Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This one I never finished, though, and I've always wanted to-- 400,000+ words and I *stopped.*  Why?  Lots of reasons.  But here's my second take on something I loved very much, with a lot of plotholes fixed and a lot of additions (some very small, some very large.)  I guess you could call this my "inevitable changes, no takebacks" fic.  In this case, though, the majority of the viewpoint is from Kuroba Kaito's world, and it very much focusses on What Happens Next And Why.  Hope you enjoy it; many of the chapters have been combined and/or split apart to at least *attempt* to bring them to manageable sizes (meaning "anywhere so far from 8.2K words to 17K words.  No more 27,000-word-chapters, I promise!)  Posting will, hopefully, be on the 10th, 20th & 30th of each month (updated.)

Hope y'all like it; for the love of all the gods, let me know what you think, okay?  Reviews are love! Thanks.

Also:  Poor Heiji puts up with a lot, doesn't he?  He gets to swear almost as much as Nakamori-keibu, though.  Oh, and if you've been wondering, 'Hei' was just my little joke; in Chinese it means "dark", and in Japanese it means "flat."  ^__^

And now, on with the show!

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wind· fall (w nd fôl ): 1. A sudden, unexpected piece of good fortune or personal gain. 2. Something, such as a ripened fruit, that has been blown down by the wind. (Miriam-Webster Dictionary)

"How do you do that?"

"Hm?" The young man in the scruffy jeans and t-shirt looked up from what he was doing; a small girl stood a few feet away on the sidewalk, dark eyes staring in fascination. He looked down at the four almond-sized pebbles that he had been juggling absentmindedly. "What, this?" The stones moved steadily in flight, tumbling over and over perfectly from hand to hand.

"Uh huh." Her gaze never wavered as she hopped up onto the park bench beside him. "How do you keep them moving like that? Don't you ever drop them?" Around and around the pebbles went in a circle, changing in pattern every few seconds. The clever hands seemed to move almost without volition, as if they possessed a life of their own.

"Nahhh; I've been juggling for a long time-- I could do this in my sleep." With a nearly-invisible flick of a wrist he added a fifth pebble; another flick, and the pebble was replaced mid-flight by a very small pine-cone. "'Course, you get better when you practice a lot." The teenager chuckled; "I'm always snitching things from my friends and juggling them-- you know, like their house-keys, cellphones, shoes, their lunch, books… that sort of thing."

"Oh. I thought stealing stuff was wrong, though… doesn't that make them mad at you?" The little girl regarded him solemnly, her wide eyes seeming almost hypnotized by the constantly-moving circle of stones.

"Sometimes. But I always give everything back."

"Oh. That's okay, then."

For a few minutes neither spoke; the only sounds were the nearby rush of city traffic, the shouts and screams of playing children and the squawks of the small crowd of pigeons that the child had been feeding. The whirr of the objects orbiting through the air was nearly silent; with a look of studious absent-mindedness, the brown-haired young man added a small, paper-wrapped something to the circle, replacing one of the stones. He juggled for a few more moments, molding the pattern from a circle into an arch, a figure-eight, a double curve; "Hold out your hand, okay? Palm up."

Hesitantly the girl held a small, grubby hand out; the pebbles-and-pinecone set plonked into their manipulator's hands with an air of finality, but the last item dropped lightly into hers, and she blinked down at the piece of candy. "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers; my Kaasan said so," she informed him in a conversational tone, poking at it rather wistfully with one finger.

He nodded approvingly, the afternoon's sunlight filtering down on both their faces and making his blue eyes flash. "Well, I don't want you getting into trouble with your mom; she's right." Tugging a handkerchief that had seen better days from his pocket, the young man dropped it lightly over her hand; "Three-Two-One!" and he pulled it away with a flourish. The candy had vanished.

"Awwwww…" The little girl looked crestfallen.

"Hey, no problem-- we can fix that." He reached out the hand not holding the handkerchief. "My name's… well, you can call me Hei. Hei-san. What's your name, kid?"

Hanging back for a moment, the child seemed to consider the matter; after a second or so she seemed to come to the conclusion that he was safe, smiling up at the teenager. "I'm Ayumi." Solemnly she shook, her small hand disappearing in his; she had seen people in movies shake hands. He grinned back at her cheerfully, stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket; when he let go of the handshake, the piece of candy lay back on the girl's palm.

"There. Now we know each other's names, so I can give you this, right?"

She giggled, peeling off the wrapper and popping the sweet into her mouth. "Guess so." She sat for a few moments, examining his face with a brown-eyed, candid gaze. "I knew somebody else named Hei-san once… he used to work at my school," she announced, swinging her legs. "He was funny- he used to do magic tricks for us too sometimes, when we were on the playground. But he went away after…" Ayumi's voice trailed off as her face grew troubled, her eyes shadowing a little.

The young man studied her for a moment, his own face betraying very little. Then he nodded. "A funny man, huh? Well, I'm pretty funny myself." He stretched a bit, long legs sprawled before him and skinny-wristed arms above his head. "So what're you doing here at the park, Ayumi-san?"

The adult-sounding honorific made her perk up, and she giggled again. "Just playing. Me and my friends like to meet here. I got here first today, though-- they're slow, 'cause three of them are boys. Boys are always slow," Ayumi announced with all the loftiness of a growing eight-year-old girl. "'Course, you're a grownup; maybe boys get better at stuff like that when they grow up," she added generously.

The teenager calling himself Hei-san laughed at that, shaking his head; he leaned further back comfortably, stretching. "Not sure about that. My friend Aoko'd tell you you're wrong; she says I'm always late when we go places." He frowned, thinking about it. "Come to think of it, she's probably right."

Ayumi merely nodded, accepting this at face value. Her dark eyes scanned the spaces between the trees as she surveyed the park, watching for her friends. They were really late this time; annoyed, the little girl muttered something half-beneath her breath that made the young man beside her arch one eyebrow at her, though his eyes twinkled in amusement; "I don't think you're supposed to know words like that, Ayumi-kun, much less call your friends those sorts of names. Where'd you learn 'em, huh?"

She turned innocent eyes on him. "From some boys in the video arcade we go to; they were mad because their friends were late. I heard them call their friends those names-- I don't know what the words mean, though… Kaasan says it's good to learn new stuff; what do they mean?"

"Uh..." Hei-san blinked, his usual cheerful expression nonplussed; then he copped out utterly, floundering for an excuse. "Um, I don't know-- I mean, not exactly-- errr…"

She crossed her arms, not buying this in the least, and regarded him severely with what her friends would have recognized as the Ayumi Death Glare. "Hmph. If nobody'll tell me stuff, how can I ever learn?" The little girl stuck out her bottom lip and sulked for a moment. "That's what Conan-kun does, too… he talks about interesting stuff just enough to make you want to ask questions, and then he won't answer them." Her lip stuck a little further out as she chewed on it.

Hei-san eyed her, suddenly intensely curious; he shoved back a tumble of dark brown hair from his forehead. "So what d'you do then? I mean, when he won't tell you things?"

Ayumi scowled ferociously. "I bug him and bug him and bug him until he gives. Or I cry at him; he really HATES that… he gets all red and stammers." She cocked her head to one side uncertainly, looking up at the teenager. "I guess I could try and cry at you… Should I?"

"Uh, nonono, don't do that--" His eyes bugged out slightly. For the first time a thread of nervousness crept into the young man's voice; what had he gotten himself into? Good intentions and the road to Hell and all that, he reminded himself. Right. "Instead, why don't I-- well, uh--" His gaze lit on the pebbles he was still holding, and he seized on the potential change of topic gratefully. "Why don't I teach you how to juggle?"

"Really?" The little girl's face lit up like fireworks; "I don't think even CONAN knows how to juggle! Will you teach me? Please?"

"Um, sure… I've got to go in a little bit, but I guess I can help you learn the basics." Hei-san wiped at his forehead, wondering how to handle this. He stared down at the hopeful face that beamed up at his; it wouldn't be the first time he had ever taught somebody else a trick of sorts, but they were usually a little older than Ayumi-kun….. "Before I teach you, though, you have to promise me something, okay? Don't tell anybody who taught you. And don't teach them anything I teach you without permission from me."

The little girl's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "Why not?" She took two of the pebbles from his open hand, turning them over in her small fingers.

"Well, see, I'm a magician-- I do magic shows for people sometimes, and if the other magicians heard that I was teaching you how to juggle they just might think I was telling you some of the secrets of our tricks too. We don't ever do that, not without getting the other person to swear that they'll keep them secret. So don't tell, okay?" Truthfully he wasn't quite sure just why he didn't want her telling (other than the obvious)-- maybe it had to do with a certain runty little detective she hung around with, maybe not. It just sounded like a good idea.

The child thought about it seriously; she seemed to be a bright little thing, but Hei-san already knew that pretty well. "O… kay, I guess, but... okay. I promise.”

I think I'm getting in a little deeper than I'd planned. Hei-san hunched his shoulders a bit; how had that just happened? “Okay-- let's start off with two pebbles….. Now, hold your hands out like this--" Dim memories of his father's voice saying, 'That's right, straight in front of you just like that; toss it up now so you can gauge the height you'll need' flickered through his mind, making him smile. So Conan-kun doesn't know how to do this, hm? Right; let's show the little twerp something new.

"Now, toss the one in your right hand straight up--"

* * *

"Hey, Ayumi-kun? Where'd you learn to do that?" Conan stared, puzzled, as the little girl fumblingly juggled two small stones; she was clumsy and unpracticed but was visibly improving.

She frowned, concentrating; several yards away Genta and Mitsuhiko paused to stare with simultaneous exclamations of "Cool!"

Rin smiled from beside her on the park bench, tilting her head to one side. "I didn't know you knew how to juggle, Ayumi-kun," she observed, dark eyes curious. "Who taught you?"

Ayumi giggled, working hard at keeping the stones in the air. "Not gonna teeeell you…"

"Really? Why not?" Conan left his skateboard upside down on the ground, the small screwdrivers he had been using on it laying haphazardly about in the grass.

"'Cause I promised."

Rin and Conan blinked at one another in puzzlement and then sat back on the bench, legs dangling, to watch their young friend practice.

* * *

"Hey, pretty good, kid!"

The voice came from behind a tree to her left. Ayumi jumped slightly, peering at the tree; nobody there. Frowning, she almost missed her catch but managed somehow to keep the pebbles she was attempting to juggle moving more or less correctly.

"Keep that up and you can add a third rock pretty soon, so long as you keep practicing."

Now the voice seemed to be coming from the trash-can beside the bench. Ayumi's eyes widened a little, but she kept juggling. "Hei-san?" she asked the air tentatively. It sounded like him…..

"Over here!"

"…and over here!"

"and over here!"

Scowling ferociously, Ayumi caught her pebbles and knotted her small hands into fists around them. Uncertainly she stared in turn at two other trees and a large rock; no Hei-san in sight. "Where ARE you?"

"Find me!" Now the teasing voice sounded as if it were coming from the branches of the nearest tree. Hesitantly the little girl slid off the park bench, thinking hard. She remembered hearing about this from TV-- it was called ventral-, ventril-, ventaril… something, it was one of those interesting English words that were so hard to say. People could sort of put their voices somewhere else, so they sounded like they were anywhere but where they were. So… if Hei-san *wasn't* where his voice was coming from, then he *wasn't* behind those trees or up in the branches or hiding behind the trashcan or under the rock…

With surprising methodicalness for a gradeschooler Ayumi scanned her surroundings, mentally checking off hiding places. Where was he? "All those places where your voice was are in front of me…" she said slowly, "so-- that means you're--"

A finger tapped her on top of her head, making her jump; the girl snatched at it, barely missing, and Hei-san laughed as he leaned over from where he had been standing behind her. "Gotcha!"

This time his voice seemed to come from the right place; Ayumi wrinkled her nose, impressed. "That was really neat. Can you teach me how to do that too?" She smiled to herself, picturing some of the tricks she could play if she could put her voice in Conan's lunchtray or Rin's backpack.

Hei-san plunked himself down on the bench beside her; today he was wearing a school uniform. Somehow, though, he looked just as scruffy as he had the week before, when she had seen him in his ripped jeans and t-shirt. "I could try," he said somewhat doubtfully; "It's a lot harder than juggling, though. You sort of have to juggle your voice, and that takes a lot of diaphragm control."

"What's a dia-- diaf--

He pointed to his midsection. "It's something you use to make your voice stronger or pitched differently. Hm; maybe if you start by learning how to imitate voices you'll strengthen yours enough. Could work, and there are exercises you can do, too."

Ayumi perked up. "That sounds like fun. Can you teach me how to do that? Please, Hei-san?" She kicked her feet in excitement where they dangled off the bench; one small sandal dropped to the ground but she ignored its loss.

Those big brown eyes… aw, man… Like most people who are fond of kids, the young man succumbed with barely a struggle. "I guess… How DID I end up being your tutor, anyway?"

She shrugged, scrabbling around in her pockets; several pigeons had landed nearby, and she tossed them a broken cookie that she had been saving for later. "You just did. And anyway," she pointed out, dusting her hands off, "aren't adults supposed to teach kids stuff?"

The young man beside her considered the matter solemnly, leaning back and tilting his face up to the afternoon sunlight; he seemed to find it not in the least unusual to be holding a serious conversation with an eight-year-old. "Guess you're right. And I started learning magic tricks and juggling and other things when I was even younger than you, so…" He clasped his hands backwards before him, cracking his knuckles and flexing his long, nimble fingers. "Are you waiting for your friends again?"

"Uh-huh; they're late… again. Genta-kun had to stay after class because he got into a squabble with Mitsuhiko-kun, and Rin-kun got caught passing notes to Conan-kun again." Her face fell a little. "Rin-kun… Conan-kun's waiting for her. He doesn't play with me as much as he used to-- he just wants to play with Rin. They talk an awful lot." She was silent, fiddling a little with the stones; the young man beside her watched sympathetically. After a moment she continued, a somewhat doleful and confused note in her young voice. "She-- I like Rin-kun, she's my friend, but she's… funny. Sometimes she says things and does things kind of like Conan does, like she knows more than the rest of us. She's awfully smart…"

Ayumi's voice dropped into silence; for a few long seconds the small clearing held only the sounds of traffic and the calling of birds. Hei-san nodded as though he understood, rumpling his dark brown hair back from his forehead with one careless hand. "Well, Rin and Conan are both… a bit different from most other kids, y'know?"

The little girl glanced up, tossing a pebble (the speckled one, her favorite) from hand to hand. "I know. I don't know how she's different, but I know. Rin-kun… When she came here--" Ayumi hesitated, wrinkling her brow. "I wish Ran-neechan was still here," she said abruptly.

"Why?"

"Because….." Ayumi bit her lip, turning her juggling stones over and over on one palm with a finger. "Just because. Because-- because I want to see her and Rin-kun at the same time. 'Cause… never mind."

The teenager sat silently, watching. His face was calm, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking. "Hei-san? How do you know Conan and Rin? And Ran-neechan?"

"Oh… I know all sorts of people. I come to this park a lot."

It didn't occur to Ayumi that his second statement might have absolutely nothing to do with his first; she accepted the explanation without comment. The child sighed; shaking her head as if to rattle uncomfortable thoughts out of it, she looked down and carefully positioned her stones to juggle. Hei-san eyed her for a moment, then moved the small hands a little closer to her waist. "You don't want to hold 'em too far out; it's easier to lose your control if you do." Ayumi nodded, tossing the first pebble into the air.

She concentrated hard on not messing up in front of her teacher, biting her lower lip in concentration; the stones began to circle with a little more regularity and precision. "…Hei-san? Who taught you all this stuff?"

He clasped his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out before him as he leaned back in what she was coming to see as his favorite position. Dark blue eyes stared off a little distantly into the leaves overhead. "My oyaji, my tousan-- he was a magician, a really great one. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, he was the best, and he taught me all sorts of secrets and tricks…" Hei-san laughed a little sadly. "I didn't learn a few of 'em until just recently, though; there were a couple of things he never told me-- I had to find out about some of his more important magic tricks the hard way…" He sighed, a rueful look on his thin face; beside him the little girl continued to send her pebbles around and around, one following after the other. The soft thud of the stones against her palms seemed to counterpoint his thoughts as he continued softly.

"He was a good man-- he loved me and kaasan a whole lot, and he loved magic too; I think he taught me tricks just so he could share that love with me, you know? --it was almost like a conversation between us when he was teaching me a new one. There's just something about making everybody laugh or surprising them by doing impossible things… it's a fantastic feeling, and I guess he wanted me to know that feeling too."

Ayumi's juggling faltered at the sadness in his voice; she allowed the stones to drop to the ground. "Doesn't he do magic anymore?"

Hei-san shook his head, his eyes darkening. "No… he died when I was a little older than you."

"Oh." The little girl stared, her eyes large; to his surprise they filled with tears. "I-- I'm sorry, Hei-san."

He smiled down at her again, his expression controlled. "It's okay, Ayumi-chan; he's been gone a long time now. I still miss him… I always will. But it's okay." Attempting to lighten the mood the teenager reached out and plucked something out of the air, presenting it to Ayumi with a flourish. "Here; this ought to make us both feel a little better!"

It was a white rose, perfect and fresh; the petals seemed to gleam with their own inner light in the dark green tree-shadows. Ayumi exclaimed over the flower in delight, all sadness forgotten. "Oooo, pretty! Is it really for me? Thank you!" She stroked the petals, cradling the bloom carefully in her small hands. "But why would it make you feel better too?"

His eyes twinkled. "'Cause it always makes a guy feel good to give flowers to a pretty girl. I give roses to my-- I mean, to Aoko all the time." He laughed wryly. "Keeps her on her toes, and I don't think she hits me with her mop quite as hard as she could because of 'em."

"Aoko? Who's that? Why would she hit you with a mop? That's not very nice." Ayumi buried her face in the flower, breathing in the sweetness; she looked up at him after a moment, pollen dusting the end of her nose.

Geez, she's a cute kid, isn't she? Makes me wish I had a little sister; being an only child isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Oh, just a girl I know. She has a really awful temper, but she's sort of nice anyway. I've known her since I was about your age." His sharp gaze had been scanning between the trees; it suddenly fixed on several small figures heading towards the bench. "Gotta go now, Ayumi-chan. Tell you what," he said to her downcast face, "you practice copying people's voices, okay? Just think hard about how they sound and try and imitate them-- oh, and never ask them if you sound right, because nobody ever really sounds like they think they do. Ask somebody else."

Watching the children meandering towards them, Hei-san suddenly got a rather gleeful smirk on his face. "In fact… why don't you work on imitating Conan's voice? That'd be a good start." Mentally he rubbed his hands together. Let's see how you handle THAT, Chibi-tantei.

"Okay-- but when'll I see you again?" She gathered up her pebbles and stuffed them in one pocket, eyes hopeful.

Hei-san stood, stretching. "Well….. since we keep meeting like this, we ought to make that official. You come here most afternoons, right?"

"Uh huh." It didn't occur to Ayumi to ask her friend how he knew this, although later she would wonder.

"So why don't I meet you here every Friday? You head over a little early and I'll teach you what I can." He grinned down at her lopsidedly. "Bet I can make a magician out of you yet….." The teenager held out a hand. "You don't tell anybody who's teaching you and I'll keep on with the teaching, okay? And remember, you have to never, never tell anybody else how the tricks I teach you are done, right? That's part of learning magic; we keep our secrets. Fair deal?"

Eyes sparkling, Ayumi shook hands with Hei-san for the second time since meeting him. "Okay!"

"That does it, then--- you are now a Magician's Apprentice. Better get going now, your friends are coming. Seeya later, 'Yumi-chan!" He chuckled as she waved and scampered off through the trees, snatching up her fallen sandal en route but not bothering to put it on. Hei-san's laughter had a certain note of wonder in it, as if his own actions surprised him; he rumpled his hair with one hand, scratching at his head in slight puzzlement.

Why am I doing this, anyway? She's a cute kid, but I've mostly been keeping tabs on her to make sure she hadn't had her psyche scarred for life by that Ojiwa bastard-- I hadn't intended to take her under my wing like this at all.

But--

..… but he really didn't have anybody else to share his magic with; never had, not since his dad had died. No matter how many times he performed in small school displays, no matter how many times he did tricks to amuse himself (or befuddle certain less appreciative audiences, ones in uniforms), their attention stopped at viewing; nobody seemed to want to learn how to do his tricks themselves. It was a lack he had thought about ruefully a time or two before and tried to remedy, but somehow things just never worked out. And while it wasn't really a big deal (or so he told himself), sometimes that lack made him feel maybe the least little bit… lonely.

Oh well….. might be fun, teaching somebody who actually wants to learn.

Teaching this little girl who'd had such a chunk of trauma dumped on her head might be good for her; and, if he had to admit it, it appealed to the broad streak of Crazy that ran through Hei-san's personality like a river-- it was just such a ridiculous thing to be doing, and therefore it ought to be done. 'Yumi-chan, despite her friends, seemed like she was looking for another friend too; and as the magician had learned, loneliness had no boundaries.

And if you want to be practical about it, this might be one way to keep tabs on a certain somebody ELSE as well…

As he slipped away through the lengthening shadows he paused for a second, watching his small friend as she joined the others; one child moved more sedately than the others, more deliberately and less randomly. Hey, Conan-kun; glad to see you're feeling well enough to play with your friends. I wonder, do you really enjoy being a little kid all over again or is it all just that, an act ? And I wonder how I'd handle it…? Gahh; bet I'd totally freak out.

Look at him; he seems… happy. Happier than he was without 'Rin', that's for sure. Good for you, Kudo. Man, you'd be way embarrassed if you knew I was watching you climb on the Monkey Bars, though.

Better get going; got places to be, people to avoid being arrested by, gems to steal… I don't really think that that ruby down at the Metro Museum's gonna be the Pandora Gem, but I'd feel like an absolute idiot if I didn't check it out and it DID turn out to be the right one. Besides, I don't want to disappoint Nakamori-keibu, do I? He chuckled to himself, flexing his fingers; he could almost feel his other self sliding into place with all the ease of a garment being donned (a cloak perhaps, or a top hat…)

Smiling to himself, Hei-san left the park; he had a busy evening ahead.

* * *

"Kaasan?"

"Hmmm? What?" The woman sat at her computer in the family room, quick fingers flying across the keys as she checked her email. Her daughter watched for a few minutes more before speaking, toeing the carpet in her bare feet and pajamas.

"Can I grow stuff on my balcony?"

The question was unusual enough to catch her mother's attention; she quirked one eyebrow towards her child. "I suppose so… we get enough light. Why? Did you want a plant, 'Yumi-chan?"

"Uh huh; I want a rosebush! Please, Kaasan? Can I have one?" The child reached across her mother, playing with the mouse and making the pointer spiral all over the screen. She wiggled impatiently. "Pleeeeeease? I'll take care of it-- I'll water it and, and bring you flowers, and keep bugs away, and--"

"Well…" She blinked. A rosebush…? Hmph; who can understand how kids think these days, anyway? At least her daughter wasn't asking for another video game. And it was a good sign (wasn't it?) for Ayumi to be so interested in other things beside that detective club she spent so much time playing with, especially after what had happened not that long ago-- The mother's mind shied away from the whole incident, trying not to consider the 'what ifs' that had haunted her sleep for weeks afterwards. "I don't see why not; we can pick one out tomorrow--what color of rose would you like, koneko?"

The little girl bounced in place happily; the mouse-pointer made delighted loops across the monitor. "White!"

* * *

And as sirens wailed and police inspectors cursed his ancestry, a thief chuckled to himself as he soared on the winds above the city with a glittering jewel clutched in one gloved hand, hefting it absentmindedly and wondering how it would juggle. He'd have to find several more of matching size and weight… temporarily, of course.

* * *

A day later...

One of the best things about being occasionally chased across creation, thought Hei-san sleepily to himself, is that you find out all the good places to hide in.

He stretched his lanky body full-length, soaking up the sun like a lazy cat; the rays glittered down at him in late-afternoon brilliance, making the clay tiles beneath him beautifully warm. The heat soaked into his muscles and soothed the bruises and abuse of the previous night's escapades as the young man blink sleepily, his eyes half-lidded.

Take rooftops, for instance; nobody ever thinks about rooftops much. Tile, gravel, tar-paper, shingle, slab, metal (yaaawwwn)… so many different kinds. And you have to learn what to listen for when you run across 'em, like those tiny little squeaky creaking noises that come right before the damned things collapse-- you don't get a lot of warnings. And then there's the pigeon poop to watch out for and the occasional couple making out on balconies, hidden skylights, all those damned bits of pipe sticking out and the lines of wash… Rooftops are complicated. But spots like this, now-- once you find a good one, they make great places to just kick back and relax.

He yawned and stretched again, careful not to shift too much sideways; a quarter meter either way would put him rolling off the peak and down a sharply-slanted decline to drop like a stone seven stories towards the concrete below.

…so long as you're not afraid of heights, that is.

Hands clasped beneath his head, Hei-san lay relaxed and boneless; the aches and pains of his nocturnal occupation slowly seeped away into the embracing heat and his eyes slid closed against the light.

Man… Good workout last night, but I thought Nakamori-keibu was gonna blow a gasket when I tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He really needs to lighten up or he's gonna have a heart attack before he catches me. Not that he's ever GOING to catch me, but it's the principle of the thing; I'd hate to see Keibu-sama really get hurt. Aoko'd be all alone then. The full moon's light had looked so bright, filtering down through the ruby he'd taken; the gem had glittered and shone like the prize it was, there in his hands afterwards, and his heart had sung with the intoxication and pure glee of chase and target and mine mine mine all mine...

It hadn't been the one, though. Not the one he wanted, needed -- no. Again, no. But the heist had still been good; he could give the ruby back now.

Another yawn...

zzzzzz …

…Mmph?

A flutter of wings nearby jerked him back from the edges of sleep as something with sharp, delicate claws landed lightly on his ankle; he blinked drowsily at the dove perching just above his shoe. She cooed back, tilting her head to one side inquisitively; was it just him, or did she look sort of reproachful?

Hi, Pichu; did you come looking for me? Yeah, yeah, I know… can't afford to fall asleep here, can I? Gentle fingers stroked the dove's head, and she nudged them firmly to indicate that a round of scritchies would be a perfectly acceptable reward for waking her master up. Get your butt in gear, Thief Boy. You can goof off later-- no jobs tonight, just homework and a well-earned bed. Whoever said that there's no rest for the wicked was really, really out of line, not to mention a bit harsh; we wicked types work as hard as anybody else.

A moment's careful movements had him perched in the shadow of a chimney-stack, his back against the warm bricks; the reasons for his visit to this particular rooftop (well, aside from it being a nice place to nap) lay glittering in his now plastic-gloved palm. Hei-san sighed a little, spilling the gemstones from one hand to the other in a glittering arc of sapphire and emerald. Stupid things… just a bunch of flashy rocks, pretty as they are. Worth a good chunk of yen, too-- and absolutely worthless to me. The one I want is probably in somebody's vault somewhere or hanging from a rich socialite's neck; wonder if I'll ever actually find it?

It wasn't that he was planning to quit any time soon, hell no-- not unless he found what he was looking for. It was just that it got a bit discouraging sometimes, that was all, looking for the proverbial bejeweled needle in the stupendously valuable haystack…

Oh well; everybody needs a hobby, right?

Gently Hei-san slid the stones into a prepared zip-lock baggie; they lay glinting incongruously bright within the plastic, and he took a second to scrawl a certain characteristic signature-caricature on the bag with a marker. Whimsically doodling little 'XXX' kiss-marks all over the surface, he added a solicitous comment that perhaps it would benefit Nakamori to begin drinking decaf (THAT ought to make his blood pressure rise, he thought with a smirk) and then clipped the baggie to a strong, fine strand of nylon fishing twine.

Five minutes later he crouched on the peak's very end, smiling happily down at his handiwork; the bag hung several stories below from a flagpole, softly tapping against an office-window he knew to be Nakamori's. Coiling up the thin steel cable he had used to loop the line over the pole, he stuffed it into his jacket's inner pocket and chuckled. Wonder how long it'll take for the tapping to get on his nerves? Tsk, tsk, tsk-- here you are worrying about his health, and you deliberately give him something new to stress over. Bad thief, no biscuit! But I think he'd be disappointed if I didn't find some way to jerk his chain…

...and besides: it's just like I was thinking a few minutes ago, right? Everybody needs a hobby. Mine is pissing off detectives, and Nakamori-keibu's is practicing for the stroke I hope he never has.

Moving with a precision and native grace that would have astonished any of his schoolmates (who were far more familiar with seeing him jump around like a cricket with its assets on fire, dodging Aoko's broom), he catfooted it lightly along the roof-edge and began the careful trip back to a certain storage-room window three stories down. As Hei-san slid in through the window, his mind continued mulling over the consideration of hobbies, especially his hobbies. He'd developed a new one a few months back, and he'd be damned if he could figure out how he had managed to get himself into such a fix; since when, wondered the teenager, had he become so brain-damaged as to consider taking on a little girl as an apprentice? An actual apprentice, not just somebody to teach juggling to?

He hadn't planned it…

It had just sort of happened.

She was pretty good for her age, though; in the three months that they had been meeting at the park she had progressed from a shaky two-stone juggle to three stones and three different patterns. And he was teaching the little conniver sleight-of-hand, too-- just beginner moves, but everybody had to start somewhere. Must be those big brown eyes, I guess; I always was a sucker for cute kids. Aoko was an awfully cute little girl despite growing up into a mop-wielding maniac, and she manages to get me to do stuff all the time.

With a rueful grimace at his own gullibility, the young man latched the door behind him, slipping smoothly through the hallways and staircases to the fourth floor. He was just barely in time to see the door click shut about twenty feet away as a familiar figure entered, hefting her backpack behind her; Hei-san smirked to himself, pleased at the perfect timing. Bingo.

A minute or two's wait to add validity ("I was right behind you, baka-- didn't you hear me yelling to hold the elevator?"), and the persona of 'Hei-san' was left behind as Kuroba Kaito opened Chief Inspector Nakamori's office door, an inquisitive and slightly impatient look on his face. "Hey, Aoko-kun--? There you are-- Jeeze, can't you wait up for a guy? I said I'd meet you down in the lobby--"

(And from the corner of his eye he could see Aoko's dad slowly turning his head to stare at the small baggie that was steadily swinging in the light breeze to brush against his window, the Kid-caricature plain to be seen.

Tap… tap-tap… tap…

As Aoko began to reply-- fairly calmly for her, discounting the fact that she was searching for something to throw-- Kaito braced himself for impact and wondered if Edogawa Conan ever had this sort of day.

* * *

Edogawa Conan was going to be having his own brand of difficulties soon enough, if he didn't watch out. A certain brown-eyed little girl (currently perched high in a rather large tree) would see to that.

Two voices, barely audible, filtered up through the flutter of leaves from below:

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I mean, it's not too late to change your mind--" The boy sounded more than a little doubtful.

"No," said the small girl firmly, scuffing at the grass with the toe of one shoe. "I want to get it over with. He's your friend-- mine too-- and there're too many secrets around here anyway." A trace of humor crept into her voice as she cocked her head to one side; "Besides, don't you want to see his face when we tell him--?"

A reluctant snicker. "Yeeeeah... Okay, I'll admit that part sounds good." The boy she had been addressing seemed to perk up a little, a small, slightly wicked smile beginning to creep onto his face as he shoved his glasses back up his nose with one finger. "Maybe this can be a sort of payback for all those times he called me 'Kudo' in public." They both laughed.

Ten feet or so above them the leaves rustled very, very slightly. I wish they'd get on with it; I'm getting BOOOORED, thought Ayumi, peering down at her quarries. She frowned to herself, puzzled; 'Kudo'? The girl sat comfortably in the angle of three tree-branches, well hidden from sight; the crook of the limbs made a natural cup that obscured viewing. She had always been good at climbing, and this particular tree had been her favorite ever since she had first clambered up the rough bark the previous summer; but she had never stayed up in it for quite so long before, and never for such an odd purpose: to spy on her friends.

That thought made the child wince-- it sounded so much better to think of it as 'detectiving' or 'being on a stakeout' or something like that. But…

Conan and Rin-kun were her friends. And yet there she was, sitting in a tree and hiding as well as she could, trying to hear what they were saying. Ayumi felt her face redden at the very thought; if somebody had done this to her and she had found out, she was pretty sure she would have cried.

Maybe I had better get down, she thought unhappily, shifting slightly. She was well hidden, she knew that, but it would be so easy to knock a bit of bark down on her friends below… and then it wouldn't even be her fault if they looked up and caught her.

But they'd be mad. Really mad, maybe.

...even though she was doing this because of Conan's Ran-neechan. Sort of.

I wish she was here. I wish-- Ayumi bit her lip.

I wish--

*

It had all started the day before, when she and the others had gone to Conan-kun's to pick him and Rin up. It was Sunday afternoon, and they were all heading for the library; there was a Book Fair being held and everyone had a certain amount of pocket-money to spend. Even Genta had put aside a small stash of yen for manga, and Mitsuhiko was so excited he could hardly string a full sentence together; he kept bouncing as they walked.

Haibara-kun was with them too, an unusually animated expression on her usually rather quiet face; if there was one thing the blonde girl loved, it was books. Ayumi had watched her pick them out at stores before, and it had baffled her badly; what in the world was 'physics'? She could hardly read the titles. Haibara-kun seemed to like books about it, though, and she was always looking at the newspapers too, just like Conan. She liked magazines as well, but they were all grown-up style magazines, not the sort of stuff Ayumi wanted to look at. Boooring…

Conan-kun had run back to his room to dig out a backpack or bag or something to carry things in; he always seemed to think of stuff like that. But Ayumi had remembered to bring along Pocky-sticks, so she was doing pretty good too; snacks were practical (a word she liked.) The small girl had plopped down on the couch, waiting; the boys were both watching Rin-kun play a game on the computer (exclamations of "No, go left, go LEFT!!", "Watch out for the frog, Rin-kun-- Noooo!!" and digitized engine-sounds indicated a car-race or something of the sort) and Haibara-kun was flipping through one of the computer's manuals. Boooring; Ayumi had found herself yawning.

A sound from the office-area had caught her attention; Conan was… dialing the phone? She squirmed in impatience-- they needed to get going, and everybody was just goofing off--

His voice carried just enough for her to hear:

"Hattori? It's me… Yeah, I got your email-- good thing you sent me your cell number. Listen, are you gonna be in town long?" A pause while the unseen other end of the conversation answered; puzzled, Ayumi craned her head around the corner as she listened. Conan was sounding funny again, more like a grownup than a kid--

"Good. Can you meet me this evening? Got something to tell you about, something important… It's about Ran. She's, well, something's happened to her, sort of… no, no, she's not-- Look, will you settle down? No, I can't tell you over the phone, I gotta go in a minute, the kids are waiting for me." The office chair squeaked as a small body hopped up into it, settling against the cushions. "… yeah….. right. Hey-- you remember that park we met at last month, the one with the square fountain? Yeah, the one at the corner of Fuji and-- can you meet me there about an hour before sundown?… I don't know, five o'clock or something like that. Okay?"

Around the corner Ayumi sat up a little straighter; this didn't sound boring, it sounded serious. Was there something wrong with Ran? Her stomach bottomed out with dismay; Mouri Ran was special-- she was an adult, but she paid attention to little kids. She listened to you when you wanted to talk, and she was nice and just beautiful and besides: she was Conan-kun's favorite person in the entire world. Anybody could see that.

Or at least she had been, until she went away.

The little girl's face wrinkled in worry. Ran-kun was in trouble-- he had said that something had happened to her --and Conan wasn't going to TELL them about it? Why not? She was their friend too!

Usually he kept things from his friends because he was afraid they'd get hurt (as if he was bigger and stronger than they were. He wasn't even as tall as Ayumi; really, Conan-kun was sort of a shrimp, wasn't he?) The little girl snorted to herself indignantly, listening harder than ever, one hand fingering her favorite juggling stones in her pocket absent-mindedly.

"…No, don't bring Kazuha-- I don't know, maybe she can go shopping or something?… I don't know, she's your girlfr-- okay, okay, don't have a heart attack! Look, I've got to go. Uh, what's that? Ran--?"

Ayumi held her breath, listening; her friend's voice carried faintly but clearly, and there was a strange, sad-but-happy sound to it. "No, she… no. And yes, sort of. She won't be there, not exactly… and at the same time, she will. Hey, you're the Great Detective of the West, right? Figure it out."

A burst of static and a squeak of springs made Ayumi peer carefully around the corner; Conan-kun was leaning back in the office chair and holding the receiver well away from his ear, half-wincing, half-laughing. His glasses were off, laying loose on the desk in front of him; she wondered how well he could see without them. As the tirade on the other end ground down he brought the receiver back to a more normal position, grinning. "Finished? Good….. Hey, do you talk to your mom with that mouth?… Uh huh; right. And don't worry, you'll understand when you see us-- yeah, 'us.' I've got somebody I want you to meet." The boy's smile faltered a little as he laughed a little sadly, a little wryly; he slid his glasses back into place with the air of someone putting on armor. "But… you might as well plan on never seeing Ran again, though… or at least probably not for a very long time."

… plan on never seeing Ran again …

The words had hit Ayumi like a blow; she sat stock-still, shocked, her mouth hanging open.

"Why aren't I freaking out? Uhh-- never mind, I'll explain when you get here, okay? --Tough, you're strong, you can take it. Jaa ne." The clicked as he hung up. "That ought to teach him to call me 'Kudo' in public," Conan remarked softly to nobody in particular with satisfaction.

Silence, then the thud of two small feet hitting the carpet and the creak of the office chair spinning.

When Conan came around the corner he found Genta and Mitsuhiko commiserating with Rin regarding her terrible scoring rates in computer games; he looked around, a frown on his face. "Where's Ayumi-kun?"

Genta jerked his head towards the hallway, eyes never leaving the screen as he reached for the mouse. "Bathroom, maybe?… she just went by. Rin-kun, did you know you can use the right-click to go faster?"

The brown-haired young girl studied the mouse for a moment; one eyebrow crooked up as she shook her head. "I'm really not that good with racing games… I like things like Street Fighter or Twin Dragon Fists a lot more," she confessed, handing it over and sliding down from the seat; Genta eagerly hopped up into her place, resetting the game as Conan chuckled.

He pushed his glasses back up his nose with one finger, leaning back against the wall beside Rin; their shoulders brushed and she shot him an amused glance as he cocked his head sideways to look at her. "Why are all the girls I know violent types?" he asked.

"Takes one to know one," she retorted, dark eyes sparkling.

Mitsuhiko scowled at the two of them. "Haibara-kun's not violent--" (seated next to the window, Ai closed her book and shot Conan a slightly amused glance) "and Ayumi-kun isn't either." He paused, his thin face considering; it fell a little as he continued doubtfully; "--except that she's been learning that karate stuff, and…" The freckled boy's words trailed off as a few unwanted conclusions built themselves in his mind. Meeting Conan's amused gaze, he nodded dolefully; "Why are all the girls we know so mean?"

The closing of a door made them all turn a little; Mitsuhiko shut up abruptly as Ayumi wandered up to lean on the wall beside Rin, her small face a little troubled. "What's wrong, Ayumi-chan?" asked the other girl, noting her expression and the slight pallor that accompanied it; "Are you feeling okay?" She reached up to lay a hand across her friend's forehead. "You don't feel sick, do you?"

The gradeschooler shook her head, leaning down to pick up her backpack. "I'm okay. Are we going yet?" Ayumi marched past the other kids to pause at the door heading outside impatiently; "Come ON! All the good stuff'll be gone!" She sounded almost normal, but as she turned to clatter down the stairs her eyes would not meet Rin's.

Or Conan's.

* * *

The bus-ride to the library sale had been too long for Ayumi; all the while the others had chattered and laughed and counted their money, she had watched silently, thinking hard. Thinking about Ran-neechan… and Rin-kun… and things that she had heard, and had seen over the past few months; things her young mind had put aside at the time but now seized greedily on, things she would really rather not remember:

(A screech of brakes, and there was Sonoko-kun hanging half out of the taxi-window. "Raaaaan-chan! He took off! I watched him-he drove away in a hurry and he looked absolutely WIRED-- he acted like a maniac! and I got a taxi as quick as I could but I lost the jerk, and then I saw your mom's car and-- I-I mean RIN-kun, of course… and that's your obaa-san, not your mom… h-heh; silly me! Guess it's just habit, what with you looking so much like Ran and all.")

That had been strange, really strange. And later, when they had found Conan at last, she had been puzzled all over again to hear Mouri-tantei calling the little girl by his daughter's name ("Ran, get out of here! You're just going to trip over something and get hurt and Eri'll have my skin for it.") Ayumi hadn't paid much attention at the time, but now...

Now, sitting on the bus, she clasped her arms around her backpack and rested her chin on the top. Rin-kun was talking to Conan again-they were sitting side by side, just like they always did. And Conan-kun looked… well, he looked happy. More than usual. Ayumi tried to puzzle it out; it wasn't that he didn't look happy other times, but somehow there had always been something hiding behind his eyes most of the time, almost like a headache-- or maybe some other kind of pain. And now, ever since Rin-kun had come, it had gone away. Mostly, at least.

Ever since Rin-kun had come, and Ran-kun had disappeared. And in the back of her mind (a mind still young enough to believe in magic and in things that seemed like magic), the first real suspicions of what might have happened came together.

('plan on never seeing Ran again,' he had said.)

She had to know; it made her heart hurt. Conan-kun wouldn't tell her, she was sure of that, and neither would Rin-kun, because--

--because--

Never mind. She was just going to have to find out on her own.

Ayumi bit her lip, secretly fingering the cherished radio-badge in her pocket; it looked like she was going to have to do this one by herself, because if she told Mitsuhiko or Genta what she was thinking they'd blab it all over the place. Boys were like that.

She sighed; Sometimes it's HARD being a detective.

* * *

"Yo, Kudo--!"

The voice yanked Ayumi's wandering attention back to the scene below with an abrupt jerk. A tall figure, rangy and long-limbed and wearing a sports cap was striding towards the figures below; Heiji-san. Ayumi shrank a little further down into her protective cup of branches. She didn't know the teenager well; they had only met a few times, and she had always hung back from him a bit. She liked his smile and his funny way of talking, and his green eyes were pretty in his dark face; he was nice, she knew that-- but he was an adult, and so…

(WHY was he always calling Conan-kun 'Kudo'? That was just silly; everyone knew that Kudo was Ran-neechan's boyfriend, and he wasn't around right now… just like Ran wasn't there either.)

She could see the top of the young man's head from her perch; he always wore that white hat, and the little girl wondered (quite seriously) if he slept in it. Maybe he had a bald spot on top of his head like Inspector Magure-san did? But Magure-san was old and Heiji-san wasn't. Oh well, grownups didn't make much sense anyway--

They were talking now; she shifted slightly, peeking between the limbs with one eye. Rin-kun had pulled back a little and was standing off to one side in the shadows of the trees, looking more than a little shy; was Conan-kun going to introduce her to Heiji-san? They got along awfully well, almost like the older boy was Conan's big brother. But what did he have to do with Ran-kun?

Settling herself even deeper in the cup of branches, Ayumi listened guiltily…

*

“Oh, come on, Hattori, seriously--” Conan rolled his eyes in exasperation. "WHY do you keep calling me that in public? C'mon, repeat after me: 'Conan.' Do it: Cooooo-Nan. Can you say 'Conan'? Sure you can…"

Heiji growled at him. "You been watching reruns of those American kiddy shows, yeah? Losing it, Kudo; it was bound to happen sooner or later." The boy merely peered up at him innocently through his bangs. Behind him a giggle sounded from beneath the trees, and the Osaka youth frowned. "Uh, Ku-ummmm… C-c-co- Heh… Err, who's the kid?"

Conan met his frown with a scowl of his own. "Say my name first."

"Cut the crap, Kudo-- who's the rugrat?"

Nothing but scowling silence; the gradeschooler folded his arms and glared stubbornly.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud--"

Stonewall. The giggle was now full-fledged laughter, muffled (not too well) behind a hand; Conan's lips twitched slightly as he fought back a grin of his own. “Dooo it, Hattori, or not one word.”

"Okay, OKAY! C-Conan! There! Conan-han! Edogawa Conan, Child Genius! You happy now?" Heiji waved his arms in the air over his head. "Don't see why it matters so frikkin' much-- not like it's your real name, anyway--" He snorted, but the sound had as much reluctant laughter in it as indignation.

(Above them both, leaves rustled in agitation.)

The boy smirked up at him. "Just had to hear you finally say it, that's all."

Now Heiji rolled his eyes. "Was there actually a reason for my bein' here, Kudo, or didja just call me up to yank my chain? Lucky I was able to make it at all; if my Oton hadn't had a meeting I'd be back home, bored out've my skull." The Kansai native raised one expressive eyebrow, motioning towards the little girl a half-dozen yards away or so with a thumb. "You said you got somebody to introduce me to-- her? Does she have something to do with a case? And what's all this about Neechan, anyway? Gotta say, you sounded sort of weird on the phone-- weirder than usual, I mean, which's sayin' a lot." He frowned, crossing his arms; "This have anything to do with that drug dealer mess you told me about a few months ago?" he demanded, a faint line of worry showing on his forehead under the brim of his cap.

Conan glanced involuntarily over his shoulder; there was a certain air of wanting-to-bolt about him and he visibly braced himself as if to deliver bad news. "Well… no, not exactly. Not at all, really. I mean, they both happened at about the same time, but. Just before--" The boy's voice trailed off; he scuffled his sneaker-toes in the grass underfoot, looking down.

A slightly impatient throat-clearing noise came from behind him: "Shinichi, get on with it."

Heiji's eyes widened. "She knows who you are?" he hissed, eyebrows climbing towards his hatbrim. "Are you nuts?"

Conan snorted, crossing his arms in unconscious mimicry and shooting an amused glance up at the Detective of the West. "Like her saying that out loud in a quiet park is any worse than you calling me Kudo in public places? Anyway, yeah, she knows." He laughed near-silently, lowering his voice. "She knows everything there is to know about me, about the whole mess-- and from a pretty personal viewpoint, too." He sighed, half-turning to look over his shoulder. "Right. Rin--?"

The little girl walked up, her tennishoed feet making very little noise on the soft grass; she stopped a few feet behind Conan, hanging back a little uncertainly as she smiled up at the Kansai detective. He stared down, a faint look of puzzlement creasing his dark face; "Um. Hi?"

The boy he insisted on calling 'Kudo' stepped back slightly, turning his head to smile a little at the child beside him as Heiji's expression grew even more perplexed. "Hattori Heiji, meet Himitsu Rin."

"Uhhhhh…" The young man hesitated, kneeling on the grass to shake the offered hand. "Hajimemashite, Rin…" He blinked, taking in the brown hair, the dark eyes, the expression of shy amusement. "Do I-- know you from somewhere, itohan?"

"Yuroshiku, Heiji-kun… you could say that, yes." Laughter twinkled in her gaze; she reached up to tug gently at the omamori hanging around his neck. "I know what's in this, for one thing-- Do you still have that note that Kazuha-kun pinned on the back?"

He sat back on his heels, totally baffled. "Now, how the-- I mean, how do you know about that?" A slight blush stained his dark cheeks. "Kudo! You been telling stupid tales about me? I'll drop-kick you into the nearest canal if you have, I swear--"

Another tug on the cord around his neck interrupted him. "You'd better not… I'm still pretty good at karate, no matter what I look like now, and I'm getting better." She tilted her head a little to one side, regarding his startled face teasingly. "I ought to be mad at you, you know, keeping the truth about Conan from me all this time-- maybe I should tell Kazuha on you….."

A wordless splutter from the boy beside her indicated that this was a bad idea and she shrugged her small shoulders, completely at ease now that the two males had been so totally discomfited. "Well?" She stepped back, holding her arms out to either side and turning in place as if displaying a new set of clothes. "What do you think?" She beamed up at the young man, who suddenly swayed in place as if someone had shoved him from behind; he slowly rose to his feet, eyes bugging out in utter shock. "How do I look?"

“Don't say 'short,'” muttered Conan from one corner of his mouth.

Heiji opened his mouth; a faint croaking noise issued, but nothing intelligible came out.

"Apparently the penny just dropped," remarked the Detective of the East dryly. He reached up to tug on his fellow detective's shirt-tail. "C'mon, Osakajin-- let's go sit over by the fountain; you look like you're going to fall over, and if you do we're just going to have to leave you. You're too big for us to carry."

Mutely the young man allowed himself to be towed along out of the clearing towards the fountain several hundred feet away; his eyes never moved from Rin's face, and if anything they got wider as she grinned up at him. "Don't take it so hard, Heiji-kun; it's okay, really it is."

Heiji swallowed hard, still trying to speak; "Urk?"

Surveying the shocked face above his, Conan allowed a smile of absolute, pure contentment to slowly spread across his own features; he suddenly seemed much more cheerful as he pulled the tall figure along docilely behind him. "You know, Rin? This was a good idea, after all."

“Told you so.”

"Urk? B-but--"

"C'mon, genius."

* * *

Well, THAT hadn't made any sense at all.

Ayumi frowned severely to herself, craning her head around a branch as the trio walked off into the distance. She hadn't been able to make out everything they had said-- distance and the rustle of leaves had blocked the softer speech-and now she couldn't hear them anymore. But she had head enough to make her worry. And wonder.

Don't be silly, she scolded herself, hanging half-out of the cup of branches; her legs were cramped from sitting still for so long in one position. People don't-- don't REALLY do stuff like you were thinking… That only happens in fairy tales and on TV. People don't… change… like that. Not really. You're not a baby anymore, you know that sort of stuff isn't real.

But--

Conan always says 'There's only one truth.' He says to look at the evidence, see what's really there, not what people want you to see or even what YOU want to see. He says that most of the things people miss are because they don't bother to look, or because they already think they know what they'll see.

("Raaaaan-chan!" shouted Sonoko-kun in her memory--)

("Ran, get out of here!" snapped Mouri-tantei--)

(“Well? What do you think? How do I look? …Don't take it so hard, Heiji-kun-it's okay, really it is--")

It was a long time before the gradeschooler even thought of climbing down, not until the shadows from the trees had filled the clearing, not until the sun had nearly set and the three by the fountain had long since left together. Not until the secrets that had suddenly become so important to her had snarled and tangled themselves into such a knot that only talking to someone who Ayumi knew would really listen would help.

I-- want to tell 'Kaasan, but if I do she'll tell Mouri-tantei and HE'll laugh at me, I know he will. Or she'll tell Eri-san and I don't know her very well yet, though she's awfully nice. If I tell Mitsuhiko-kun or Genta-kun they'll tell Conan; boys can't keep secrets at all; Sonoko-kun says they can't keep their traps buttoned. And Agasa-san is nice, but... And Ai-kun might be okay to tell, but sometimes she's really hard to talk to.

So--?

Hei-san. I need to talk to Hei-san. He listens.

Still thinking hard, she began to clamber down from her perch. As Ayumi's feet automatically found the next foothold and the next, another question began to circle like a shark through her mind, fin showing ominously:

Why did they say all that stuff about Conan's name not really being his? THAT doesn't make sense either.

* * *

A little earlier, and just out of earshot:

Hattori Heiji STARED at the small girl seated so comfortably on the fountain's rim, toes dangling in the water. "You… did… WHAT?!?"

She winced. "Don't yell, Heiji-kun! My ears may be smaller, but I can hear just fine, I promise you. And you heard me right, or you wouldn't be reacting like this. I took one of the same pills that made Shinichi into Conan." Rin glanced up, a half-smile on her small face; the object of her contemplation had walked away for a few moments, giving her a little space to tell her story in. "How else could I keep them both?" she pointed out, leaning over to trail one finger across the water's moving surface.

Spray glistened on her companion's dark skin, beaded on his black hair where it stuck out from under the cap. "Ran… Okay, right, Rin… " The Osakajin still seemed nearly incapable of speech as he plunked down on the concrete beside her. "But--- but why?" He seemed honestly bewildered and more than a little distressed.

She sighed, leaning back and pulling up her legs to rest bare feet on the fountain's rim; clasping her knees, Rin met his eyes with her own candid gaze. "Heiji-kun… if you knew, really knew that Kazuha was in trouble and the only way you could help her was to do something like this-- would you do it?"

He was silent for a long moment; she could see the wonder and shock still churning in his eyes, knocking down his defenses and making him consider things the Osakajin would normally have brushed aside. "If… it was the only way….. um. Yeah. I-- guess I would." Heiji immediately flushed at his own words, looking up and beginning to open his mouth again.

With a giggle she beat him to it; "Don't worry, I won't tell on you-- but do you see?" Looking away, she continued in a much softer tone. "Conan… Shinichi told me everything, and when the chance came I had to take it… I couldn't afford to wait. Maybe we could've done things differently, maybe not; but right then and there I just-- it--” For a moment her own words failed her, and Rin made a frustrated noise under her breath. “This is hard. I... Heiji-kun, he was hurting and afraid and he thought I was going to-- and I wouldn't have, but-- I kept feeling like all I had was just that minute, a blink of an eye to change things.” She blew out a breath, pushing her hair back from her forehead in an agitated gesture. “I told him later that it was like a subway train: the chance arrived, it was there for just a moment, and then it was gone. If I didn't hop on board then, we'd never manage to stay together. Or if we did in some different way, maybe it wouldn't have worked."

Her own cheeks burned a little as she watched the boy on the other side of the fountain through the veil of falling water; his dark blue gaze flashed across at her for a second, then was gone as he turned away. Even from where she sat she could tell he was feeling guilty again, and Rin sighed; that was something they still had to work on now and then. But that's okay; someday he'll figure out that this is really what I wanted, and that it wasn't such a sacrifice after all. When you want something enough, it's worth more than what you pay for it… and that's what people call a bargain, isn't it?

"Was it… worth it, Ran? Nngh, sorry, I keep-- Rin?" asked the young man beside her quietly, his words echoing her thoughts. "I mean, you were nearly eighteen-- you had your whole life in front of you-- Hell, you'd be graduating high school this year!"

"I know."

He groaned, his face darkening as he turned sharply to glare at the boy on the other side of the water; Conan was perched on the rim as well, legs swinging as he stared off across the park. His face was in profile, looking absurdly young….. but there was nothing young about his expression in that moment; Heiji had never seen such a strange combination of profound guilt, relief and resignation. The teenager's own anger faded a little at the sight, shading more into dismay and a strange sort of horrified awe as he twisted back around to stare back at the child beside him, nearly falling into the fountain as he waved his arms in the air.

"Don't you at least regret it? I mean-- God, Ran--you're a freakin' little girl! It's one thing to have it happen to you like HE did, but to do it deliberately, maybe for good--" Words failed him again; the Osaka detective simply sat and goggled at her, green eyes huge. "This is… it's just. Gaaahhh..." Heiji swallowed hard.

Ran looked away again, down at the water; a young green maple leaf floated there like a tiny boat, its surface misted and glittering. With one chilly toe she reached out and nudged it, sending it drifting over to bump into another. The two small leaves clung together, companions in misfortune; Ran smiled at the possibly-too-obvious analogy and pulled her foot back up.

"Of course I regret it. I miss being big-- I miss all sorts of things. I miss my school, my friends, basic stuff like being able to reach a counter without climbing on something or getting to wear my old clothes or sleep in a bed that's not so big I practically get lost in it." She took a deep breath, still watching the leaves drifting through the fountain's spray. "I miss hearing my old voice when I talk, being able to look adults right in the face, being-- being the age where people look at you and see a person, not just a kid."

"I… miss Mouri Ran. I'll never be her again, because I had to sort of leave her behind-- even when Shinichi and I grow up again, I'll be Rin, not Ran. Ran can't really exist anymore, except in my memories… and when I dream." Now she blushed a little for some reason, still looking away. "I have to learn how to be somebody else, and sometimes I'm not ready for that-- sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I wonder what in the world I was thinking."

"…but Heiji-kun? Never for very long."

She paused, still staring at the water with a curious little smile on her face; Heiji swallowed hard. The eyes are the same… the eyes, and that smile of hers; that's how she always looked when she talked about Kudo.

"I do regret having to do what I did; I'm not exactly a saint, you know, ask Shinichi! And I'm not a martyr either; I, um, know what I did was really impulsive, and I'm not the only person who's having the pay the consequences of what I chose. But…"

The pause stretched out for a long moment. "But?" he prompted, half afraid of what he would hear.

"You see," Rin said softly, "there's a big difference between regretting having to do something and actually regretting that you did it. I've figured that out. I regret that I had to do what I did, but I don't regret having done it." She turned her head, steadily looking past the flow of water at the boy beyond; as if he had heard her, Conan glanced up, and the guilty look slid away as he smiled.

She smiled back, like hands taking hold.

"It's not so bad a bargain. Besides," she added whimsically, turning to grin up at Heiji, little-girl charming as she slid down from the fountain's rim, "this way I get ten extra years before I really have to grow up, right?"

Heiji shook his head. "Somebody call Peter Pan," he muttered.

Rin gave him a Look; she hadn't lost that skill in transition, and Heiji waved a hand in apology. Pushing his hat back from his forehead, he sighed; he supposed he felt a little better about the whole situation now-- it was hard to stay upset in the face of Rin's I-can-handle-it attitude. "Thing is," he remarked, "I guess it's hitting me this way because, well, because I knew you before you changed. Never knew Kudo-- didn't even meet him 'til after he'd become a runt. Hell, I've only seen him adult-sized a couple of times! But you, though… I remember how you were." The Osakajin shook his head.

The girl ducked her head, smiling just a little sadly. "Think of it as just… being in storage for a while, sort of," she suggested; the Western Detective just shook his head again in bafflement.

"So… what if your tensai-chibi figures out a cure?" Heiji just had to ask; I-can-handle-it attitude or not, she had to hope for a cure; Kudo damn sure wanted one bad.

Rin tilted her head a little to one side; “Heiji-kun, don't ever let Ai hear you call her that; she has a lot of syringes and I'm not sure what she keeps in them, or where she hides them... And if she does work out a cure, we'll pick up where we left off, of course, or at least as much as we can depending on how long it's been… though, you know? I think I'd miss this just a little."

Now he gave her a Look. Ran-- Rin-- you're weird.

Movement made him glance behind the girl; Conan walked up to stand behind her, and for a second Heiji had a strange, almost dizzying image flash through his mind: Kudo Shinichi, not Conan, looming protectively over the small figure of the girl-child with Mouri Ran's eyes. He blinked and wondered if maybe his hat was on too tight today... and the image faded (it had been especially disconcerting considering that Conan was actually slightly shorter than Rin). "Well," the Detective of the West said, not quite looking the boy in the face, "Guess it'd be kind of stupid've me to yell at anybody about this 'cept maybe your tensai-chibi” (he shot Rin a Bring-It grin) “and it sounds like she's kinda paying her dues already."

He didn't miss the sigh of relief that the boy gave, or the lessening of tension in the narrow, tight shoulders. Some of the pain in the dark blue eyes (not all, but some of it, at least) seemed to lessen, and he offered a faint half-smile to the other detective. "Yeah."

Contemplating the two small figures before him, an unholy light began to gleam in Heiji's eyes; his grin broadened and he started to snicker. Conan scowled up at his friend. "Okay, now what's so funny?"

"Heh heh….. all those protests about how you two felt 'bout each other, all those red, red faces…"

The two glanced sidelong at one another, turning a little pink-- but only a little, and if anything, scootching a bit closer to each other; Rin raised her chin rather belligerently, eyes snapping. "So…?"

Totally unrepentant, Hattori Heiji snickered down at them both. "You make a really cute couple. When's the wedding?"

She blinked; "Ask us again in ten years."

Then Rin looked at Conan; Conan looked back at Rin. "Would you like to kick him in the ankle or shall I?" she inquired politely.

The boy smiled into her eyes. "Be my guest."

"Oww! Rin!"

* * * * *

NOTE:  Much of the first few chapters will be seen through a child's eyes (Ayumi's) and so will be a lot gentler than what happens later; the 'graphic depictions of violence' warning is there for a reason, but 'graphic' doesn't have to mean 'gratuitous.'  Just thought I'd say.

Chapter Text

Keep it quiet (go slow);
Circulate the Need To Know…
Stamp the date upon your file
(Masquerade, but well worth while.)
Wrapped in the warmth of you,
Wrapped up in your smile;
Wrapped in the folds of your attention…

(Jethro Tull, "Under Wraps")

The week had been rather difficult for Ayumi, all told. It's hard to keep a secret inside when you're only eight, and it's even more difficult when the secret concerns the people you see every day.

I need to talk to Hei-san…

Time crept by, day following day at a snail's pace; she waited and wondered and went to school, played with her friends….. and watched Conan and Rin like a small, fledgling hawk. Ayumi was a worrier by nature-- she had seen things that few children of her age had seen (oddly enough, the criminals were more frightening to her than the occasional corpse) and tended to think about matters in a fashion that was a little more in-depth than most of her contemporaries were capable of. The shojo member of the Shonen Tantei had learned by trial and error over the past year to deal with what she had seen and experienced; and Ayumi had become remarkably good at coping.

But… she was still only eight, and it was hard.

So as the days slipped by from Monday towards Friday, she gathered her questions and her courage, keeping both locked inside; it was enough to give an adult an ulcer, much less a child. And if occasionally her eyes held a wistfulness when she watched her friends, no-one seemed to pay much attention. Conan-kun had been watching her a little oddly lately-- she had seen that; his eyes seemed a little sharper, a little more like they got when he was being a detective… But no-one else seemed to notice.

(Except, perhaps, Haibara Ai. The diminutive blonde had been eying her schoolmate speculatively during occasional moments; something was going on behind those blue-grey eyes of hers that made Ayumi just a little nervous. But she'd acted the same, if maybe a little gentler and more patient than usual. Now and then, though, that thoughtful gaze would switch from Ayumi to Conan and Rin… and she would become even more silent than before.)

But at last the week was over; she slipped away from school with a promise to meet her friends in the usual place (they were planning to stop by the arcade on the way there, so they'd be a little late) and hotfooted it as quickly as possible towards the park.

* * *

"'Yumi-chan? Are you sure you can do this?" The brown-haired young man tilted his head to one side, eyes dancing as he regarded the little girl sitting on the other branch a foot or so away.

She nodded her head firmly, swinging her feet; they were maybe four meters above the park's grass, and it didn't bother her a bit-- Ayumi had always liked high places. "Mmhmm… I've been practicing LOTS. Here, pick one." She held out a small, slightly grimy handful of five-yen pieces. Silently her teacher selected one from the pile and held it up, and with extreme solemness the girl marked the coin with a rather bedraggled drawing of a smiley-face, using a black marker she had pulled from her pocket. "Okay? Now I need it back."

Grinning internally, Hei-san dropped the coin into his apprentice's left hand on top of the pile of change; she displayed it proudly for a moment, then picked it from her palm with her right hand's fingers, shoving the small heap of five-yens back into her left pocket; she carefully placed her closed right fist on top of the pocket and looked up to make sure her friend was watching. "Now I'm gonna make it go and join its friends; it misses them," she told him seriously; "See? It wants back inside." Keeping as straight a face as possible, she danced her fist back and forth on across the cloth of her denim shorts-pocket before tapping it a few times. "Now it's mysteriously vanishing… see? Taaaa-daaaaaaaaaah!" Ayumi held her empty hands up, palm out; the coin had indeed disappeared.

She beamed at Hei-san, dark eyes gleeful. “Well? Where is it?"

He scratched at his head, feigning puzzlement. "Huhhhh… I dunno-- did you drop it?" Craning his head, he peered past the child towards the grass below. "No, I didn't see it fall-- I know, you've got it between your fingers!" His eyes widened theatrically as his student splayed her hands out, showing a distinct lack of coinage. "Not there-- well… you did say you were sending it to join its friends, but it beats me how you could do that. It can't be in your pocket, can it?"

Giggling, Ayumi pulled the five-yen pieces back out; the smiley-face-marked coin lay grinning lopsidedly on top of the pile. Hei-san applauded loudly, whistling. "Magic! Very cool, 'Yumi-chan." He grinned at her. "Take a bow now, like I showed you; a good magician always acknowledges his or her audience."

Nodding seriously, the child carefully rose to her feet; she balanced on her respective branch and bowed with great gravity towards her friend, then sat back down. "Did I do good?"

The teenager nodded appreciatively. "Very good; just right." He cocked his head to one side. "Did you ever get that 'floating chopstick' trick to work for you?"

Ayumi pulled a face. "Allllmost… I still can't do it as good as you can, though; your fingers are bigger." A leaf fell past her nose, drifting downwards towards the ground; she leaned over a little to watch it land, fidgeting a little. "I'll keep practicing, though. Can you show me a new trick today, Hei-san?" She raised large, hopeful brown eyes to his face and he chuckled.

"Well…"

"Pleeease? Just a little one?" she wheedled.

Hei-san ran one hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more than usual. As if he needed to be asked twice to do magic… "Okay, just a little one, then. Hold your hands out, palms down-- Now, close your eyes and think really hard about… peacocks." He placed his hands palm-up a few inches below hers.

The child's eyes opened, nearly popping out. "PEACOCKS?!? You're gonna make a PEACOCK appear?"

Her teacher nodded calmly, poker-face well in place; only the gleam of humor in his dark blue eyes gave him away. "Yup. Eyes closed, and think really hard about them, now…" His apprentice blinked at him dubiously, then closed her eyes tight and concentrated, scrunching up her face. Once she had shut her eyes he grinned in approval and shifted slightly on his branch; now, where was--? Oh, right… Back of the jacket. Damn feathers always tickle when I let 'em hide in the front… wake up, Toge, it's showtime! C'mon, down the sleeve you go...

A second or two later Ayumi's eyes flew back open at the feeling of wings fluttering against her palms "IT'S A… aww--- it's NOT a peacock!" The speckled, cream-colored dove perched on Hei-san's fingers and cooed soothingly at the child; it tilted its head to one side much like its master had done a moment before, and the magician shrugged.

"You weren't concentrating hard enough… all I could manage was a dove. Or maybe that was me who wasn't concentrating? You were doing fine. Oh well; peacocks are too noisy, anyway. Doves are quieter and a lot brighter too, you know." At his gentle prompting the bird pigeon-toed its way up Ayumi's arm to perch among her brown hair on top of her head; she wriggled as it pecked at her hairband. “Toge was one of the first doves I raised on my own; he hatched when I was six, and my oyaji let me take care of him. Kind of an old bird as doves go, but I think he has a few years left in him. He's one of my favorites.”

Hei-san watched in satisfaction as his young student reached up a finger for the dove to hop onto; the kid didn't seem to be the least bit afraid of birds, which was good. A magician who was afraid of doves might as well be afraid of pulling rabbits from hats, and... hmm; sooner or later he'd have to see about giving her one or two doves of her own, if her mom would allow it. The teenager reached across one finger to stroke the bird's neck; Toge cooed, tugging at the frayed cuff of his somewhat scruffy shirt with his beak.

He'd come to the conclusion lately that it really was fun, having a little sister; he'd been missing out.

As she stroked the bird's soft breast-feathers Hei-san glanced at her sideways while seeming to look out over the park. It hadn't escaped his notice that she seemed more than a little downcast when they met that day-- the whole "show me what you've learned this week" bit had been specifically to cheer her up. To a certain extent it had worked; Ayumi-chan had displayed her new trick (one of a half-dozen or so he had managed to teach her over the past few months) with alacrity… but he could still see shadows under her brown eyes and a faint pallor to her cheeks. Something was bugging the kid, and he didn't think that it was one of the occasional nightmares that she had mentioned having.

"Ayumi?" he asked; she was still petting the dove, who had nestled himself comfortably down into her lap. "Is something wrong? You're awfully quiet today."

The little girl hesitated; all the smiles that her new accomplishment and the appearance of the "peacock" had produced seeped away, leaving her looking a little lost. "I… sort of." Her chin dropped, and she stared back down at the dove again; it cooed blissfully as she scratched one small finger in the good place just below its skull. "There's something I want to ask you about, but… um." Her words crawled to a halt and she bit her lip.

Hei-san blinked out at the park, still watching her from the corner of his eye. "But what? C'mon, 'Yumi-chan-- ask away. What's the problem?"

"..."

He waited; hurrying this kid was a BAD idea, he had found. She was stubborn as a mule (as no doubt The Shrimp and her other friends could tell anyone.) Speaking of which… he suddenly had a feeling. "Ahhh, 'Yumi-chan? Does this have anything to do with your friend Conan?"

The girl's jaw dropped; "H-how—-? Hei-san, how did you know?"

The magician laughed wryly, cracking his knuckles as he stretched. "Conan-kun… is, well, a rather unusual kid; if anything strange or problematic is going on, it probably has to do with him. Just a guess, but I'm right, aren't I?"

She nodded gloomily, considering what he had just said. "Prob-lem-atic… that's a good word. It means full of problems, right?" Ayumi stared down at the ground below her feet; one tennishoe drooped a little, half off her foot. She kicked experimentally and the shoe fell off, dropping to land with the softest of thuds on the grass.

Hei-san could recognize evasion when he saw it; he was pretty good at it himself, after all. Contemplating the child's action, he shrugged and kicked one of his own shoes off (it made a rather larger thud as it landed next to hers.) "S'pose you start by telling me what's bothering you, hm? Don't worry if it doesn't seem to make sense… There's a lot of things about The Shri-- I mean, about Conan-kun that don't seem to make sense when you really look at them close-up."

…and MAN, is that putting it mildly…

The girl still stared at the ground, face troubled.

Her teacher sighed, trying to think back to how his father had gotten him to talk about things that bothered him; oddly enough, though, it was the image of his mother kneeling before the gradeschooler he had once been and talking soothingly that came to mind. He cleared his throat gently, remembering; Don't scare or push her, she's like a baby bird herself. "'Yumi? I promise I won't laugh at you, no matter what you say; I won't just pretend it's not real because you're a kid-- hey, I listen to you, don't I? If I didn't, you wouldn't be trying to tell me this, right?"

Still there was only silence. Hei-san sighed internally; having a little sister was fun, but it took a helluva lot more patience than he had expected as well… and maybe this was too hard for the kid. "If you don't want to talk about it, then we won't. But if you want to, I'm here, y'know?"

Mumble, mumble… "What?" Her words had been, apparently, in Ayumi-Speak or something like that-- he hadn't understood a bit of it.

"…don'twanttogetthemintrouble…"

"Ayumi-chan, I can honestly swear to you that I'm the last person to go playing tattletail." He snorted internally at the idea. Glass houses, throwing stones and all that tripe… Once you decide to be a 'villain' (even if you're not an actual Bad Guy), you sort of lose the right to rat on anybody else-- unless it's something really wrong, like that Ojiwa bastard a while back. Union Rules, probably.

"But…"

Hei-san decided to let the subject drop; if his little apprentice felt that uncomfortable about it, then-- "Never mind. If you feel like talking, I'm right here, though. Wanna climb down and work on some two-person juggling? I told you we'd start on it today if you wanted to--"

Her words came in a rush then, half tripping one over the other in their hurry. "No! No, I want to talk about it, I just don't want to-- I mean, I'm not sure if-- See, it's not really Conan-kun I need to ask you about, except for sort of, mostly it's Rin-kun and I'm not really absolutely positively sure about her, butshegotcalled RAN insteadof RIN… andIthinkthatjustmaybe… she's… exceptthat'sSILLY andIknowIshouldaskher ButIdon't want toaskheraboutitand--"

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down, kid." Hei-san stared down at the girl, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. Uh oh… and I did ask for this, didn't I? Yeah, I did. Now, the question is, do I pull Kudo and his girlfriend's fat out of the fire for them or let 'Yumi-chan ask questions they don't want to hear? "Go a little slower, okay? Tell me what's bothering you."

And it all came pouring out: Her newest friend Himitsu Rin, the strangeness in her eyes, Mouri Ran's disappearance, the likeness between the two, the suspicions and the questions and the mistakes people had made-- "…and, and I know people don't-- they aren't really supposed to be able to change from grownups to kids, but-- but Hei-san? Conan-kun says there's only one truth, and I-I think I know what it is. I don't know HOW it could be true… but I think it is. I really, really do. Hei-san? What would you do?"

Gooood question. She was staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes; dammit, she trusted him, she wasn't an idiot (people tended to forget that young did not mean stupid), she was just a little kid…

…unlike a certain pair who really (all things considered) should be perfectly capable of looking out for their own vertically-challenged selves. The magician sighed, wondering how the hell he had ended up in this position. "'Yumi-chan? WHY don't you want to ask Rin-kun about it? Are you afraid she'll laugh at you, or maybe stop being friends with you? Is that it?"

Nod, nod; the tearful brown eyes never left his… and not once, not even for a second did she seem to have the faintest doubt that he believed her. That kind of faith was a little staggering.

"Hmm…" Hei-san edged out a little further along his branch; without really thinking about it he lay back in his favorite position, hands behind his head, stretched out like an upside-down, sunning iguana. "Okay... Ayumi-chan, I remember my dad telling me something when I was nearly your age-- I didn't really understand it at the time, but it makes sense to me now. 'Trust your friends, but deal the cards yourself.'" He blinked up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. "D'you know what that means?"

Solemnly the child shook her head; "No?" She frowned a little at his position, then gingerly leaned back on her own (fortunately broader) branch. After wriggling for a minute or two she decided that she was comfortable and relaxed; the magician watched her from the corner of his eye, marveling at the flexibility of kids (and making damn well she was within reach if she slipped.)

"It means that it's a good thing to trust the people you care for and believe in them-- be good to them, and they'll probably be good to you, all that sort of stuff-- but it also means that there's nothing wrong with making sure things go your way as well. I mean, it's like this--" and he pulled one hand from behind his head. Suddenly there was a deck of cards in the hand; Hei-san fanned them out and held them towards his apprentice. "Pick a card… Queen of Hearts, right? Right. Now, THAT was a magic trick, and since it was a trick, it's okay for me to make the cards come out like I want them to. If I was playing poker with my friends that'd be cheating because they'd be betting money or whatever, and winning just for myself wouldn't be fair. But in a trick, the magician wins and the audience wins too when the trick goes right. You understand?"

"Welll…" Ayumi blinked a little, eyes crinkled in thought as she stared at the card in her hand. "You mean… if I'm doing stuff just for me, it's not fair to cheat-- but if I'm doing it for more than just me, it's okay? I thought cheating was bad." She passed the card back and shifted a little, regaining the balance that her reach for the card had slightly thrown off.

The magician squirmed a little; the word 'cheating' was a sore spot with him. "Um, I wouldn't exactly call it cheating, not so long as nobody gets hurt; it's preparation… more like arranging the circumstances to suit yourself. Like…" He thought hard; the deck of cards disappeared into somewhere or other as he absently scratched at his head. "Well…. what if I were going to have to do something really, really difficult, like… I dunno, what's your hardest subject at school, 'Yumi-chan?"

The child made a face. "Math. Yuck! I can do it, but I don't like it."

"Okay, what if I was gonna have to take a really hard math-test? I could just go in there without studying, or not listen in class when the teacher tries to tell us about what we need to know, or do my homework… or I could study and listen and do my homework and get ready for the test, so that I'd get a better grade. The test wouldn't be any different, but how I reacted to it would be; that's not the same as cheating-- it's just good preparation. Does that help?"

Ayumi's face cleared; she shifted a little, unconsciously propping herself on one elbow as she turned to her friend. "Uh huh; that makes sense. But how will that make it easier for me to… to talk to Rin-kun?"

Still lying stretched out, Hei-san shrugged; a piece of bark crumbled beneath his movement and dropped into the grass below. "You can wait until somebody goofs and calls her Ran again, or you can stay worried and afraid to talk about it with her and Conan-kun… or you can set things up yourself, get ready, and ask her point-blank if she's really Ran or not. Isn't that better than stewing over it and getting upset all over the place?"

He sighed. "When I was a kid, one of the things I liked best about learning magic tricks was that you're sort of in control over something-- every trick belongs to you; you make the right card appear, or the rabbit pop out of the hat, or the chopstick float in the air. Kids don't have much chance for control… they don't need to, usually. But 'Yumi-chan, if this is really bothering you, I'd go for it and ask Rin-kun. After all, she's your friend, right?"

The child's eyes dropped to the shadows of the trees, ten feet or so below. "'Trust your friends,'" she quoted softly, biting her lip.

"'…but deal the cards yourself.' Right. There's nothing wrong with helping yourself, especially if it helps somebody else. Maybe Rin would feel better about talking to you? Maybe she's worried about you figuring things out too? You never can tell. And-- as for Conan…" Mentally he gritted his teeth; Dammit, Kudo-- " You're just going to have to ask him too, right? If you're worried about something, the best thing you can do is change it from a worry into something you understand."

He chuckled to himself silently and perhaps a little unkindly, propping one ankle across the other. I'll bet The Shrimp is worrying, too; there's no way he'd miss something like this. Ayumi-chan, you're coming along really well, but you still can't hide a thing you're thinking-- your face gives it all away. If it wasn't bothering you so much (and when the hell did I get so protective?) I'd suggest you let 'em worry, but I don't like you feeling bad about this any more than I would Aoko.

Oh yeah, speaking of which...

He half-frowned a little, a slight heat beginning to make itself felt around his ears and cheekbones. "Hey, Ayumi? Ah… you've heard me talk about Aoko a couple of times, right?"

His student blinked. "Uh huh; she's that girl in your class, the one that hits you with a mop sometimes."

"Chases me with a mop, chases me with a mop--" said Hei-san hurriedly (and a tad huffily); Ayumi giggled in response. "Yeah, that one. She-- well, she's got a birthday coming up… next week, in fact. Whatcha think… would she like this as a present?" He held one hand out; from apparent nothingness something appeared on his palm to lie gleaming in the afternoon sunlight: a thin silver chain with a tiny, delicate floral pendant hanging from it. The gleaming leaves and stems formed a wreath, perfect and exquisite; Ayumi's exclamation of delight (and near departure from her branch, save for a steadying hand) was all the answer he needed.

Of course, if you looked at the design carefully, you'd notice that the wreath was made up of infinitely minuscule four-leaf-clovers… The magician smiled to himself as he made it disappear again, tucking the present securely away. THAT ought to bring about an interesting reaction. I wonder what she'll do? I've never given Aoko anything even remotely like this before.

Truth to tell, he couldn't quite bring himself to define the reason that had made him pick such an item, besides the inherent joke in the four-leaf clovers (though somehow he just loved the idea of her wearing the Kid's own personal trademark; it made the lunatic bit deep inside him, the part that thought dancing along the very edge of rooftops was just fine, do absolute backflips.) Maybe… maybe it was because he had never given her a gift of this sort; maybe it was just… time.

Aaaaand maybe he was overanalyzing it; yeah. Sometimes you just had to play your cards by instinct and do what felt right. And isn't that essentially what you just told 'Yumi-chan? Practice what you preach, Thief Boy--

He glanced across at his apprentice; she had leaned back again on her branch, mirroring her teacher in pose, hands clasped behind her head. It was really very funny-- he had caught her mimicking him more and more often as the last few months had progressed. Just one more thing he had to get used to; the Kid was accustomed to a certain acclaim (well, notoriety might be a better word); but Kuroba Kaito, currently Hei-san, wasn't.

Movement off across the park caught his eye: small figures, five of them. Looks like they've got that little blonde with 'em today; something about that kid gives me the creeps and I'm not at all sure why. Oh well… back to the main topic before I leave. "Uh, Ayumi? Here comes your friends… I gotta go." He took a deep breath as the girl's face fell a little. "So... think you can do it? Ask Rin-kun about the truth, I mean?

The girl bit her lip unhappily, a determined look settling on her young face; she carefully sat up and swung her legs around to dangle in front of her, attention apparently fixed on her toes. After a long minute she nodded. "I-- think so, Hei-san. It won't be easy, but… I guess you're right. You and Conan-kun, you both say good stuff; I'm gonna listen to both of you."

Her teacher blinked, also sitting up. Of all the odd things to hear… "BOTH of us?"

She nodded again firmly, her small jaw set. "Uh huh. You said 'Trust your friends' and he said 'There's only one truth.' So… I'm going to ask Rin-kun, and I'm going to trust her to tell me the truth."

That simple statement set him aback a little, and he stared with amused respect (and a little surprise) at the girl. Ayumi-chan, you're pretty damned smart, you know that? Pretty damned smart… and now I'm beginning to wonder: What will I say to you someday if you ask ME questions and trust ME to tell you the truth?

But… she was doing what he had suggested: going on instinct, doing the right thing. Hei-san sighed, allowing a smile to cross his face. "You know what, Ayumi? I think you've made a good choice. Now….. Now you've got to figure out how you're gonna play your magic act; it's time to pick the stage and figure out the how and when for the whole thing." He scratched at his head, eyeing the determined child in front of him with a small grin. "Wish I could be there for the show, 'Yumi-chan… I'll bet you'll do it just right."

He rose to his feet, stretching a little as he began the quick climb down. Good luck on pulling this rabbit out of its hat, imoutochan; I think you'll need it.

...and so will I , when Conan-kun figures out that somebody else knows about him.

Well. I did ask for it. Heh.

* * *

It was only two days later when the how and the when came together to present the proper opportunity; Ayumi had kept watching, just as Hei-san had said to-- watching for the right opportunity, the right stage.

'Trust your friends… but deal the cards yourself.'

They were all upstairs at Mouri-tantei's place, sprawled across his couch and his floor, reading. Genta and Mitsuhiko still had a surprisingly large stockpile of decade-old manga left over from the library book sale that hadn't yet been read by the others (although Ai-kun didn't seem too interested; she was busy going through a huge stack of some American magazines called (she had told them) Popular Science.) So the lazy Sunday after Ayumi's talk had them all in one place, faces stuck in books.

Rin and Conan had commandeered the couch; the girl sat cross-legged at one end with a manga volume in her lap while the boy lay stretched lengthwise, chin propped on his elbows beside her. He had grumbled slightly at her choice ( "Fruits Basket is so a shoujo manga,") but seemed disinclined to put up much of a fuss or pick out one of his own; he seemed too comfortable. Genta and Mitsuhiko were plowing steadily through old tankoubon of Inu Yasha, and Ayumi had settled down with her own pile of Ushio to Tora.

She turned a page, concentrating; Ushio had just fought some sort of huge youkai with one horn and a body made out of snakes (she shivered, glad things like that didn't happen in the real world.) Things were going badly for the bakemono-slayer, but she knew it would turn out all right; Tora would show up and help! Ayumi really liked Tora, as big and scary as he was.

(Her mind winced, remembering Ojiwa-sensei from months past; there were scarier things than monsters in the world.)

Footsteps and the clink-clink of ice in a glass made everybody look up; Eri-san was standing in the doorway, purse over her shoulder and a tray full of glasses in her hands. "We're about to go out, so I thought I'd bring you all a little something to drink before we go-reading is thirsty work." The woman's eyes flashed in amusement as Conan hastily sat upright and scooted a few inches away from her niece. "Rin-chan, will you do the honors?"

Ayumi's friend slid off of the couch, accepting the heavy tray and steadying it against the table. "Thanks, Obaasan… will you and Ojisan be back soon?"

Her aunt shrugged, straightening her glasses. "Who knows? He--" and she indicated Mouri-tantei behind her, hunting for his shoes-- "wants to go to some sort of brand new car review; I think that Suzuki girl's family is holding it."

Rin rolled her eyes. "They are, and it's being held down by that new shopping center they built last month. I heard from Sonoko-kun that all the new cars were being showcased by girls in bikinis." The sound of Mouri's foot impacting a chair-leg as he hastily straightened acted as odd punctuation to the girl's sentence; sputtering noises of pained denial followed, but Eri-san simply rolled her eyes and sighed, looking very much like her niece in that moment.

Very much like her... Ayumi watched, feeling unsettled as the woman gently ruffled Rin's hair with one hand. "We'll be back sometime this evening. Be good." That was interesting; she had directed her last words at Conan, not Rin-kun.

As the door closed at the bottom of the stairs, there was a flurry of hands reaching for glasses; then everyone went back to their reading without a word. Conan-kun yawned, sat his glass on the floor and returned to his original position; Ayumi watched them both over the top of her manga, a small frown-line furrowing between her eyes.

Time passed; pages turned, the day waned into late afternoon, and young eyes that had been lulled into laziness closed and drowsed, books or magazines falling into laps. Time passed, punctuated by the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the couch. Time passed.

…tick, tick, tick, tick…

Ayumi slowly came back to herself, blinking sleepily from under the volume of Ushio to Tora that had fallen forward to land against the bridge of her nose. The room was quite silent, save for Genta's rather thunderous snores and a soft, surprising whistle that seemed to be coming from Ai, who lay curled in a chair in the corner. The blonde had her arms around a sheaf of her American magazines in the same fashion that another might have clutched a teddy-bear; Ayumi almost giggled aloud at the sight-- would have giggled, except--

--for the soft sound of a turning page, coming from Rin-kun. The brown-haired girl had not yet noticed that her friend was awake, apparently; she was deeply engrossed in her book. It was something she had bought at the sale, Ayumi remembered, a novel, not manga; at the time she had commented nonchalantly that it was a gift for her cousin Ran-neechan.

And maybe it had been, in a way.

Ayumi kept quite still, peeking from under her book; everyone was asleep, even Conan-- kun-she could hear his soft exhalations of breath, see the relaxed face that was now bare of glasses; Rin must have slid them off, as they lay folded shut on the cushion beside him. It was very quiet… no-one was listening…

…tick, tick, tick, tick…

She slid the book very slowly, very soundlessly away from her face; Rin-kun paid no attention. Hesitating, the girl swallowed hard. She had thought about what to ask, but not really HOW to ask it--

NOW??

Yes, now, just like Hei-san said; be brave, just like Ushio was in the manga. 'Deal the cards yourself… and trust your friends.'

That hadn't been quite how he had put it, but it would work. It sounded better, somehow.

"Ran-neechan?" she said very, very softly, voice barely audible in the still air.

The other little girl turned a page, still concentrating. "Hmm, Ayumi-chan? What is it?" She looked up absently…

…and froze, the book sliding from her nerveless fingers onto the couch. Rin's jaw dropped in shock, and Ayumi could see the dismay and the struggle to recover that passed across her face like a wave, brushing all traces of absentmindedness utterly away. "Wh-- N-no, I, I'm not-- I mean-- W-why did you… why did you call me-- that name? W-why--"

Ayumi stared unblinkingly at her friend, heart pounding painfully; she thought maybe she was shaking just a little. "Because… because you are Ran-neechan, aren't you? Aren't you?"

"A-Ayumi-kun… Don't--"

"Aren't you?" She was shaking, and she couldn't keep the trepidation out of her voice.

Silence in the room, only broken by the ticking of the clock and Rin's rapid breathing; even Genta's snores seemed muted. Rin picked up her novel, clutching it tightly enough to make her nails bite into the paper cover. "I… Ayumi-kun, I can't…" Her eyes were huge.

The moment stretched out, seeming to gather silence in the way that snow gathers on a windowsill, piling deeper and deeper by the second. "If-- if you don't want to tell me… how you got to be a kid again…" Ayumi fidgeted with the manga volume in her hands, running one nail along the pages at the top over and over; each time it made a faint zzipp! sound, loud in the stillness. "…if you can't tell me-- but, but I can keep secrets too, Rin-kun… R-Ran-neechan… and I won't ever, ever, EVER tell anybody--"

"--but I just need to know--"

…tick, tick, tick, tick…

Silence, deep as the gulf of time between childhood and adulthood.

…tick, tick, tick, tick...

"Tell her." Conan's quiet voice broke the silence into pieces, shattering it like a mirror.

Both girls stared at him. He hadn't moved, but was still lying stretched out and relaxed across the couch; only his eyes had changed. The shadows there were bleak and full of some sort of pain unfamiliar to Ayumi; she had seen it there before but had never understood what it was. "Tell her, Rin… Ran. If she managed to figure it out, she deserves to know."

His eyes flickered to Genta, Mitsuhiko, who continued to sleep the sleep of the innocent, or the ignorant. "Tell her, but-- not here." Genta's snores continued steadily, although Ai's soft breath-whistles had rather suddenly stopped; she shifted slightly, pillowing her head on her arm.

Ayumi stared, open-mouthed. Conan-kun? He sounded so… All the while she had tried to think mostly about Rin, not Conan, even though she realized that both of them were--

--were probably--

--were different. Weren't really kids, maybe. Conan-kun… Ayumi felt her heart turn over in her chest; it hurt. She was his Best Friend, he had said, but if he was really a grownup then was that the truth? What was the truth? Did grownups even have best friends? She swallowed hard, trying hard to keep tears back, but they kept trying to leak out.

She hadn't wanted to think about Conan being different.

Rin-kun was staring at the boy's face now, looking all upset and scared… but what did she have to be scared of? Ayumi? The girl's young mind refused to accept that possibility. Maybe Hei-san was wrong-- maybe she had been better off never saying anything, maybe she should just tell them 'never mind' and 'forget about it', maybe she should just--

('Trust your friends… but deal the cards yourself.')

('There's only one truth.')

Deal the cards yourself… and trust your friends.

Trust your friends.

Hei-san, I really really wish you were here! Ayumi felt something warm and wet run down one cheek; she sniffled a little, wiping her face with the back of one hand. Very quietly she slid down from her chair, the volume of manga dropping to lie unnoticed on the floor as she crossed the room to stand timidly before her friends. "R-Rin-kun? Can you tell me?" She wiped at her face again, whispering. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to get you upset. I just want to know."

Another tear ran down the angle of her jaw, splashing onto the cushion not far from Conan-kun's shoulder. His eyes flickered to the spot of dampness, then back up to the little girl's face again; at Rin's agitated intake of breath he shook his head. "Tell her, Ran; it's okay. Just… I'm sorry, Ayumi-kun. I really am."

He looked so sad. Why was he sorry? She was the one who had gotten them all upset and everything…

Ran sighed, then silently slid down from the couch and tiptoed past the sleeping boys towards the stairs, motioning for Ayumi to come with her. Looking back at Conan-kun apprehensively, the child gulped once and followed, wondering.

And as the two slipped out the front door, toeing on their shoes as they went, Ayumi could swear she heard Ai-kun speaking behind her in the quietest voice possible: "Well. I hope you know what you're doing, Kudo-kun

* * *

Many, many years later, when Yoshida Ayumi was a grown woman with children of her own, she would sometimes tell her little ones a particular fairy tale when she put them to bed. The story was full of battles and miracles, of terrible villains and transformations and sacrifices. And for a fairy tale? It was pretty good.

But that would be then.

And right now, Ayumi was still trying to make sense of everything she had just heard. And her head didn't feel big enough to hold it all.

"Rin-kun?… um, R-Ran-neechan?" ventured Ayumi at the end of the story, eyes very wide.

They were outside on the tiny scrap of grass that was hid behind the Mouri's building; the branches of one of the somewhat bedraggled ash trees edging the so-called lawn arched overhead, and a single leaf drifted down slowly to land near the two girls where they sat cross-legged on the ground.

Rin sighed. "You can still call me Rin, you know… I'm getting pretty used to it by now. And I need you to call me Rin, just in case, well, somebody's listening. " She raised one hand to rub at her aching temples; telling the truth about herself and Conan in terms that an eight-year-old could handle had been-- difficult.

If I talk much more about this, I think I'm going to fall over. Can eight-year-olds have nervous breakdowns? I bet they can. If I do, though, Tousan will bury Shinichi in an unmarked grave somewhere and Kaasan will provide the shovel; guess I'd better not.

It wasn't that Ayumi-chan was stupid-- God, no; that was the problem when you got right down to it. She was bright, too bright for comfort; there had been moments in the last few months when Rin had seen her watching them and thinking about… Well; now they knew what she had been thinking about, didn't they?

Had they really been that clumsy?

Somehow she didn't think so; or, at least, it hadn't just been them. Part of the problem was that Ayumi-chan had learned to see things a little differently; children could be surprisingly perceptive enough as it was, but for more than a year now she (and the others, of course) had been under the tutelage of someone with very exceptional insight and detective abilities-- and that sort of thing tended to rub off. In fact, Shinichi had been actively teaching the kids how to see… and now, in an ironic sort of way, those lessons were coming back to roost.

"R-Rin-kun?" the small voice ventured again, making her look up. "Rin? Are... are you mad at me for finding out?" Ayumi's eyes were huge; she fidgeted a little, huddled there on the grass twisting a twig to bits with both hands. Scraps of bark and splinters were scattered across her lap.

Ohhhh… so that's the problem. "No-- no, Ayumi-chan. No, listen to me now, okay?" Rin reached out and caught her friend by the shoulder as the child tried to draw in on herself a little. "No, I'm not mad at all… surprised, yes, but not mad, not one bit."

She gave the other girl a small shake. "You're really smart, you know," she said, allowing a little playfulness and approval to slip into her voice; "Nobody else figured it out-- well, almost nobody; there's Heiji-kun… you saw him at the park. But he's the only one so far; Conan had to tell me, even. Every time I thought he was really Shinichi he managed to change my mind one way or the other. So you did pretty good, didn't you, Ayumi-chan?" Rin smiled into her young friend's face, who wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and returned a somewhat watery grin.

The child drew her knees up, clasping them with her arms and resting her chin on her hands. "You… still call him Conan-kun? Even though you know he's really--"

Rin nodded firmly. "But he's Conan-kun now, Ayumi. No matter who he was before, that's who he is now-- just like I'm now Himitsu Rin. And even though you know the truth now… you're going to have to think of us as Rin and Conan, not-- not Ran and Shinichi."

She sighed a little, a distant look in her eyes as she reached for the maple leaf that had fallen moments before. Twirling it in her fingers she traced the edge gently; Fall was well underway-- the leaves were turning; things changed all the time, everywhere-- when you got so caught up noticing the changes in yourself, sometimes your forgot that. "What we were… well, that doesn't matter that much anymore; who we are now is what's important. Everybody grows and changes, Ayumi-chan; I guess we just did it a little more than most people." Rin smiled to herself.

Who knows? Maybe we needed this second childhood, or maybe the world needed us to have it. Shinichi, anyway-- how many of these Conan-cases could he have solved if he hadn't been kid-sized? How many of them would he have missed? And maybe he needs me. He gets so depressed; sometimes it scares me, and if I wasn't here, like this... Anyway. I am, and we'll take care of each other. We won't let either of us get lost now.

She glanced at the little girl sitting a few feet away; the child's face was still a little troubled, and no wonder-- a lot had happened to Ayumi in the last hour or so. Poor kid; from what she said, she's been worrying about this at least a little for months now, even if it really only came to a head over the past week or so. I wonder who this 'friend' of hers is that gave her such good advice?…and…

and OH. And how did he…

Oh. NO.

AAAGH.

Rin's eyes shot wide open suddenly and her breath choked in her throat as she realized: Ayumi's friend KNEW about them.

Oh no … Shinichi's going to have fits.  I think I'll have a few as well, just to keep him company.

"Rin-kun? What's wrong?" She must have made some sort of sound at the moment of realization; it took her a moment or two before she could make her frozen vocal chords work again.

Too many shocks in one day, Rin thought hazily, rubbing at her temples again; she needed a child-sized dose of aspirin and a nap, possibly with a teddy bear. And a blanket over her head. Much more of this and my head's going to explode; I don't think a blanket'll help! How on earth did Shinichi STAND worrying like this about my finding out for a whole year??

Ayumi's concerned face peered at hers; a child-small hand was placed on her forehead. "Are you getting sick? You're awfully pale… Do, um, grownup kids get sick like regular kids do?"

The former teenager shook her head a little, hard. "N-no… no, I'm alright. Er… Ayumi-chan… Ayumi. That friend of yours, the one who suggested you talk to us… Who is he?" Please, please, please be somebody trustworthy, please, please, PLEASE be somebody trustworthy--

The child's worried countenance cleared. "Oh, that's H-" and she stopped mid-word, an arrested look on her face. "I… IsortofpromisedhimIwouldn'ttell."

Nngh-!!  Rin abruptly stood up, stood completely still for a long moment, and then sat back down hard. The child beside her stared.

Don't panic-- if you panic, SHE'LL panic… little kids can smell fear, I swear. "A-Ayumi-chan… I really, REALLY need to know," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "He knows about us, about-- and from what you said, it sounds as if he knew about us even before you talked to him about us. We need to talk to him. If he tells the wrong person… Ayumi? Remember what I said about-about the, um, bad guys?"

The child scowled at her a little, tightening her clasp again on her knees. "You don't need to act like I'm a baby, you know-- you mean the ones who turned Shinichi-niisan into… Conan-kun. You said they were sort of like, like gangsters in those American movies, or maybe yakuza in the police-shows on TV, right? And they have mad scientists, like on the late movies too… You said they wear black clothes most of the time, and they hurt people they don't like: they shoot people and poison people and blow up buildings and set them on fire and-- " Ayumi ticked off the salient points of their earlier conversation on her fingers, far calmer regarding the whole matter than the former adult who sat blinking at her, mouth open.

"Rin-kun? Will they come after me because I know? I mean, if they find out I know? And if they find out I know, will they come after Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun and-- oh! And Haibara-san too, because you said that she's the one who made the-- the medicine, right? And if they find out I know, will they--"

"Ayumi-chan--"

"--chase us and will we have to hide and--"

"Ayumi-chan! No, no, no, calm down now--" (although really it seemed that Rin was the one getting upset.) "Ayumi, this isn't a TV show. If they find out, they will do all those terrible things. But… if you're very, very careful and you don't tell anybody, they won't find out, will they?"

This was the crux of the whole matter; Rin felt her palms sweating. Shinichi, I wish you were down here and not up there with the boys-- "Ayumi-chan? CAN you keep this a secret? Not just for now, or even for a year-- forever and ever? Our lives depend on it, and-- and now, so does yours. Can you?"

You trusted me for the truth, Ayumi-chan… can we trust you to keep our secret? You're only eight years old… no eight-year-old should have to keep silent about something like this, but it's way too late for recriminations. Can you keep our secret, Ayumi?

The little girl was silent, sitting still in the grass. Her small face was solemn and a little troubled as the gravity of Rin's words sank in. In that moment, staring at her from so close by, the young woman inside Himitsu Rin's diminutive form saw something she had not expected and could only barely recognize: the woman that her young friend would one day become, not yet there, not yet real… but a possibility, a probability. And when the child raised her eyes to those of her friend's, the voice she used as she slowly answered seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere many years and choices away.

"I… can keep it. I can --mostly because you and Conan need me to." She took a deep breath then, letting it out in a sigh. "I don't really understand everything you told me, but I don't want anybody to get hurt; so that's what I'll think about when I want to talk about it, okay? Not letting anybody know-- that's what'll keep people from getting hurt, right, Ran-neechan?  Rin-kun?"

And Rin believed her.  What's more… so did Ran, for reasons that she couldn't really put into words. "That's… that's right, Ayumi-kun. Thank you." And as she suddenly found herself being hugged, she also found herself (somewhat to her surprise) just as suddenly leaking tears.

Sometimes I guess you have to go with faith. She hugged her friend back, hard.

…and now, if I can get her to tell me about her friend and how in the WORLD he knows about us…

*

Behind them both, from a window one story up, the face of a young bespectacled boy drew back from where he had been listening; as he pulled the curtains gently closed behind him, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. Alright, Ayumi-kun; alright. You've trusted us… so we'll just have to trust you.

But-- about that friend of yours? We need to talk. Now .

* * *

"NO."

"Ayumi-kun? Please, Ayumi-kun?" GOD, she's stubborn...

"No."

"But… but Ayumi, this is really important--" … and I'm going to be the world's first grey-haired eight-year-old if I don't find out who the hell you've been talking to…

"No."

"Oh c'monnnnn… Rin said you understood about how much we're going to be depending on your keeping our secret-we can't just forget that some guy we've never even met knows all about us-can't you just tell us his name?" Aaaargh!! C'MON now-you don't want me to die of frustration, do you? Huh?

"NO. I promised.  A Promise Is A Promise."

"But-but-- Rin, YOU talk to her!" I have a headache; a really, really big headache. And it has friends, and I think they're all coming over to visit and hold a goddamn party in my cerebellum. Padded room, here I come...

"… Ayumi? Ayumi-chan? Please… we're not mad or anything-we're just worried and we need to know who your friend is… If he said anything about this to the wrong people, we could be in so much trouble and not even know it, and you might be as well-remember? Please, Ayumi-kun, just tell us his name ?"

"No."

...sigh...

They were on the way back to Ayumi's apartment building, threading their way between the late afternoon crowds and sidewalk traffic. Genta and Mitsuhiko had parted ways with them a block or so earlier, and Conan and Rin were doing their so-far-futile utmost to pry the name of Ayumi's juggling teacher from her lips.

So far, no way. 'A Promise Is A Promise.'

Conan stole a sideways look at the little girl, whose outthrust lower lip indicated her stubborn refusal to yield. In a kind of mirror-image way, he supposed wryly, this was reassuring; if she could keep this a secret, then their own had a better chance of staying safe than not.

Hell of a pain, though; they NEEDED to find out the damned man's name! Ayumi-kun… He could be anybody; he could be a child molester, he could be some kind of crazy would-be abductor, he could even be a member of the Black Organization-- maybe they've figured things out, maybe they know where I am, Oh God, maybe they're biding their time and plotting to kill everybody connected with me, maybe-- No; no. That's your paranoia talking, Kudo, get a grip. He wiped a droplet of sweat from the bridge of his nose as his glasses slid a little ways down; just barely avoiding a head-level elbow from a passing adult (and shooting them a bad-mood-induced dirty look), Conan stepped in a little from the curb and tried a new tactic: Bargaining and/or Outright Bribery.

"Ayumi-kun... Look. I realize you made a promise, and I know you want to keep it… but we have to talk to this guy. If you tell us his name, I swear I won't yell at him or get him in trouble or anything like that-- and I'll… uh, I'll… I'll lend you my skateboard for a week." He swallowed a pang of regret as he held up the skateboard, determinedly focusing on the problem at hand; he would never have believed Ayumi could be so damned stubborn with her friends.

--of course, THIS guy is her friend too, she says, but--

They walked on a few more yards while the girl considered his offer; after a moment or so she stuck her chin out belligerently, refusing to meet his eyes (thought she cast a wistful look or two at the skateboard). "NO. You're trying to bribe me and that's wrong, you TOLD me so-back when we found that bad guy who set fire to his house for the insurance money, remember? He bribed his neighbors to say he hadn't been home for a couple of days… Bribes are bad. That's cheating." She tilted her nose up, staring straight ahead with a miffed look on her young face; on her other side Rin stifled a snicker despite her concern.

Conan rolled his eyes. "Ayumi-kunnnnnn…. Please!… Okay, two weeks! Well?"

Now Rin rolled her eyes. "Conan--" she said warningly; she could tell that the other girl had had enough.

They were in front of her apartment building now, and the child wheeled around to face him, eyes flashing angrily. "NO. Now you just listen to me, Conan-kun!" Hands on hips, she stared him right in the eye from the second step up to the doorway, her slight natural height-advantage (Crap, I hate being short!) coupled with the step's few inches to allow her to loom just a very little. "You want me to keep your secret, right? Well, I will! And if somebody was trying to bribe me to tell all about you being a grownup kid, you'd want me to not say anything, right? Right!"

Ayumi crossed her arms and scowled horribly down at the Detective of the East; he stepped back a little, eyes wide. "So don't try and make me tell you something I shouldn't-- I promised Hei-san I wouldn't, and I-- MMMPHH!!!"

She stopped mid-sentence, hands suddenly clasped over her mouth; Conan paused, a dawning expression of horrified dismay creeping across his face like the very worst of sunrises…

"'Hei -san'?  ''HEI-SAN'? Oh no…" His whisper trailed off into a muttered string of words that made Rin thump him on the back of his head with her knuckles. "Ow!"

"Well then, don't say things like that or I'll-- I'll wash your mouth out with soap!"

Even in his agitation this made him snort briefly with laughter; he shot her an amused glance, straightening the glasses that her thump had knocked askew. "You can't-- we're the same size now, baka."

"Baka yourself; I'll tell my Kaasan and she'll do it, you know she will. In fact, she'd probably enjoy it." Rin hmmphed in triumph at his flinch of defeat.

During this little exchange Ayumi had been standing there, still as a statue; her wide eyes shifted back and forth from one to the other of her friends as if watching a ping-pong match. "I said his name… I broke my promise!" The sentence dissolved into a wordless wail as the child burst into tears, plumping down abruptly onto the steps.

"Oh, Ayumi-chan, no, no, it's okay…" Ran knelt down in front of her and hugged the little girl tightly; "You didn't mean to-- we both heard you, it just slipped out!"

Her friend's words were broken into hardly understandable pieces by her tears; "…but… (sniffle) won't be able… (gulp, sob)… keep your secret if… (sniffle, wipe eyes with back of hand)… can't even keep quiet about his name…" This was followed by a fresh outbreak, and Rin glared up at Conan as if it had entirely been his fault.

He shifted uneasily, wondering what to do, what to say; even when he had been Kudo Shinichi another person's tears had totally incapacitated him. Ran had always been able to get away with anything if she cried at him when they were kids... "Uh-uh, Ayumi-kun? I'm… sorry… It's just that we really need to talk to him. And besides," he set his jaw a little grimly, a somewhat steely look entering into his dark blue eyes and making them flash, "I'm fairly sure I know this… Hei-san." He tilted his head a little to one side. "He doesn't look a thing like Hei-san the janitor from school, does he?" He wouldn't, if he's really--

Still sniffling, Ayumi looked up and shook her head. "Nooooo… He doesn't sound like him either. But he-- you remember how Hei-san at school did magic tricks for us sometimes at Recess? He, he teaches me tricks too, and sometimes I wonder if maybe he's his son or something like that." She wiped her face again, and Rin (still kneeling) offered her a tissue from one pocket. Rin still had a lot of Mouri Ran's habits hanging on, especially the ones that had involved taking care of a certain little boy.

His son, huh? Not… likely. But when you're a kid you don't really have that much of a concept of age; older-than-you means just that: older, and that's all. Guess Hei-san the Janitor looked old enough to Ayumi for him to have a teenaged son… Dammit, dammit, dammit! If this is who I think it is and not some weird coincidence-- No, it's no coincidence; every instinct I have says it isn't. But WHY the hell is he teaching Ayumi magic tricks, of all weird things? Is this some sort of plot to spy on me or what?

Conan hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his friend. "Um, Ayumi? Is this Hei-san… nice? I mean, you said he's your friend, right?" He had damned well BETTER be nice--

She nodded vigorously. "He really is-- he taught me juggling and that coin-trick I showed you yesterday and the card-tricks I did in class the other day, and he has pet doves and, and I LIKE him, because he listens to me and tells me jokes… He's going to teach me how to do more tricks and more juggling and how to do ven-, um, ventaril-… how to throw my voice, and, and sometimes… I think he's lonely. I think he likes teaching me stuff because he doesn't have any brothers or sisters or anything."

Conan blinked, disconcerted. Lonely?

The girl hesitated a little, her hands twisting in her lap. "Sometimes… I wish I had a big brother, and he's sort of... like one? Only not." Ayumi offered him a rather watery smile for a second or two. "He's awfully messy, though; his jeans almost always have holes in them, and he doesn't brush his hair enough. He says it eats combs." This last statement was delivered in all seriousness, and Rin had to swallow hard to keep from giggling.

Her other friend stared, eyes widening. Ayumi-kun, if Hei-san is really who I think he is, you just told me more than anybody else has ever known about the Kid-- no siblings, an only child. He's late teenaged by now, possibly a bit older… middle-class household, maybe? That doesn't narrow the field by much if I was actively trying to find out his identity, but it DOES help some. Maybe I had better sit down with you and ask you a few hundred questions--

--or--

--maybe not.

If he did, he'd be asking her to betray even more confidences; and if there was one thing Conan/Shinichi understood, it was secrets. He had what he'd asked for: a name, and he could figure out the rest on his own without trying to get a friend to break her word further. Looking down now at Ayumi's tear-stained cheeks he felt like an absolute louse. You're supposed to be a detective, aren't you? So get busy and detect-- and quit being a First Class jackass about this. Ayumi-kun's your friend, and you just thwacked her right in the feelings just like Mouri used to thwack you on the head.

Conan heaved an internal sigh; an apology on a grand scale was in order… "Ayumi-kun? Um… here."

"Hmph? (sniffle) What-- OH!" Silently the boy offered his skateboard; she took it wonderingly. As he handed it over he surreptitiously clicked a small switch on the underside, shifting the available speeds down considerably so she didn't manage to put herself in the hospital right off the bat. "I- I'm sorry I made you cry. And I'm sorry I got you to say his name… even though we really needed to know it. I'll show you how to use the skateboard tomorrow if you'd like, okay?"

Ran sat back to one side out of the way, smiling a little in approval. Her eyes met his over the little girl's enthusiastic exclamations, and he could practically read the message there: That's better, Shinichi. That's much better.

He was blushing; he could feel it. She always made him blush when she looked at him like that… A small grin crept out from beneath the blush, and he began answering Ayumi's questions about the skateboard, feeling a little less shaken about the world in general.

And we'll just have to see about you, 'Hei-san'; I don't know what your game is, but whatever it is, you won't get away with it.

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

OMAKE: The Tale of Prince Ichi

Many, many years later, when Yoshida Ayumi was a grown woman with her own secrets and her own children, she would sometimes tell her little ones a particular fairy tale when she put them to bed. The story became a family favorite, long since polished by time and repetition; decades later it would be passed down from generation to generation as the Tale of Prince Ichi.

"Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a powerful and noble Prince. He was tall and handsome and intelligent, and he spent much of his time helping his subjects by solving difficult riddles and fighting the evil robbers and murderers that plague even the fairest of lands. Prince Ichi was well-known by kings and emperors far and wide, and his wisdom was sought after in many countries."

"One day Prince Ichi was out visiting a friend's castle far from his home in the company of Princess Orchid, who loved him and would someday become his bride. Princess Orchid was tall and beautiful with kind eyes and was a powerful sorceress and warrior in her own right; she was loved by the people of her country, and everyone looked forward to the day when the Prince and Princess would marry. Everyone, that is, except for the Black Knights."

"The Black Knights were evil-- they sought to rule all countries, and that which they could not conquer they destroyed. They fought the powers of goodness by killing its champions, by capturing its warriors, by attacking its citadels. And this day the Black Knights had decided that Prince Ichi was a danger to their schemes and cunning, and they would stop at nothing to end his life."

"So as Prince Ichi strolled across the grounds of his friend's castle, an attack was being plotted. A noise caught the noble Prince's attention, and the sight of two fearful monsters in the Forest of Secrets which divided their lands drew him from the Princess' side. He left, telling her that he would return soon."

"But he did not return. The day grew long-- the sun set-- and still Prince Ichi did not return. At last, worried and grieving, Princess Orchid called upon her ministers and assistants to search for her beloved Prince: the Wise Scientist Agasan; the Captain of the Guards, Takasan; and the Royal Fool (who had always been like a father to the Princess), Tanteisan. They each searched in their own way for a fortnight until at last they all returned to the Princess, weary and heartsore; Prince Ichi had well and truly vanished into thin air, and there was no finding him."

"Princess Orchid vowed that she would not rest until she had found her beloved Prince; from day to day she searched, wandering through the land accompanied by her three most loyal knights, Yumisan, Gensan and Hikosan. They protected her while she searched, kept her safe while she slept, and had many, many terrible and wonderful adventures in doing so. But neither she nor they could find any trace of Prince Ichi."

"At last they returned to the Princess' castle in her own country; and there they found a visitor: a young boy from a far and distant land (or so he claimed), with wise eyes and a strangely piercing gaze. He had arrived with nothing more than the ill-fitting clothing upon his back, but he had speedily risen in the interest of the Court by his quiet observations and obvious intelligence. He had come, he.said, because the Princess would need him; and he met her at the gate when she rode in from her fruitless searchings."

"When he held her horse for her to dismount, she was curious; when he brought her cool wine to drink and fruit to soothe her hunger, she was puzzled; and when he quietly went about the business of acting as her page, she became determined to know more of the boy."

""Who are you?" she asked, wondering."

"He shook his head. "No-one. I have no father and no mother, no home, no country; all I have is the place I stand in and the sights and sounds my senses give me. I have no past, and I don't know what future may lie before me." The boy smiled at her then, a smile as sad as it was sweet; "If you want to call me anything, then just call me your Page.""

"Princess Orchid was puzzled, but chose to accept his answer; in truth, she was so lonely by now from missing her Prince that the child's company was very welcome. "Very well then, Page; come, sit and talk with me for a while." And they sat together for a number of hours, talking together about everything and nothing. She found that his words were mostly those of a young boy, but that also they carried a strange wisdom and insight that was most unchildlike."

"And she thought of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and she wondered..."

"So the Princess returned to her rulership of her home, accompanied by her Page; time passed, and she began to become accustomed to the loss of her Prince, although she never gave up hope that he would return to her. As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, the boy Page became her close friend and confident, although his lack of years sometimes made her sad-he seemed to know too much and to have seen too much sorrow for such a young child. Her Page stayed beside her throughout the day, serving; often he seemed to know her wishes before she spoke them aloud. He listened to court matters, gave advice when asked, and made her laugh with his jokes and occasional (and often clumsy) attempts to cheer her up. His observations were useful to her, as were the questions that he asked when a matter of import came up before her; and it became apparent to all there that the Princess had found a friend in her Page."

"As the months passed and Prince Ichi did not return, the Princess was often observed looking out her window towards the Forest of Secrets into which he had disappeared, sighing sadly. At last one day her Page asked her: "Why are you sad, Orchid-Himitsu?""

""Because there is one who went away, who I miss very much. I don't know where he is, or even if he's still alive-- he promised to return to me, but…" and she fell silent, troubled."

"The boy looked up at her, and his eyes were kind. "If you miss him, don't you think he misses you too, wherever he is? And if he promised to come back to you, don't you think he'll keep his promise, no matter how difficult it is?" He sighed, turning to stare out towards the distant trees. "Sometimes we have to make the best of a difficult thing; problems can be like pieces of glass broken from a window. They can turn in the hand if clutched too tightly, cutting the skin. But… you can use a piece of glass for other things, too, to look through for a different view of things, to focus a ray from the sun…""

"The Princess took comfort from his words, and believed. And she thought again of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and again she wondered…"

"One day a wonderful thing happened: A message arrived from Prince Ichi, carried in the talons of a trained hawk who landed on Princess Orchid's windowsill. The message told that he was far, far away, in a land that was very strange to him-- he had visited it once before in the company of his parents, but that had been many years past. He promised that he would always be with the Princess in spirit, and that he would return to her when it was possible; but he was needed where he was, and his return would endanger her, for he was always pursued by enemies whenever his face was seen. He asked her to wait, as she had been waiting, to trust him and believe; and the writing on the parchment was blurred as if by tears at this point."

"She folded the message and smiled at her Page, who sat by the window and stared out at the forest. "He has promised, and he always tells the truth; I will trust him." Her Page said nothing, but seemed comforted by her happiness."

"Time passed; the Page served Princess Orchid well, accompanying her and her loyal Guardsmen about her duties across the land. He became close friends with the three Guards-indeed, Yumisan became his closest friend save for the Princess herself. Many hours were passed laughing and traveling with the Guards, and many fine adventures were had."

"Dangers abounded in these days for the Princess and her people; the evil Black Knights were everywhere, it seemed, and many times their terrors and plots were thwarted by the actions of the Guards and Orchid-Himitsu's Page. He seemed to know them well-the Princess could not help but wonder what he had seen in his short life to make him regard them with such fear and resolute defiance."

"Many long hours were spent seeking out the evil seeds planted by the Black Knights; they excelled in subverting the good to evil purposes, and they had a positive talent for finding those who were weak enough to be swayed into their service by payment in gold. For every traitor which was discovered, the Guards feared that two more existed; for every plot uncovered, her advisors kept watch thricefold against the ones which they knew still went unseen. These were fearful times indeed."

"Always, always her Page kept on guard against the Black Knights, being wounded more than once as he intervened between their danger and the safety of the innocent. Several times the Princess' life was saved by the actions of the Royal Guards and the cunning advice and stratagems of her Page; but never did they ask for a reward, not even once."

"At last the Princess took the Guardsmen aside to speak with them; they had served her well, she said. Was there nothing that they might wish for a reward? And what of her Page-did they know of anything he might want?"

"Yumisan spoke up first: Being the Princess' guard, she said, was a reward in itself. But it was true that she loved flowers, and of all things she would love to be given a rose-garden the most of all. And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman worked in her garden when she was not on duty, raising the finest white roses ever seen."

"Hikosan spoke next: the Princess' guard, he said, was a delight in itself. But he did indeed have a fondness for artisanship and the wonders of science, and he wished to learn as much in that arcane field as he might. And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman was put into the care of the Princess' Wise Scientist Agasan, to be taught and trained as his successor."

"Gensan spoke up last: the Princess' guard, he said, was an adventure in itself. But he admitted that of all things he loved good food the best, and wished that he might not only eat the things he loved whenever he chose… but would like to know how to make them as well. And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman was placed under the tutelage of the finest cooks in the land, to keep them safe and to learn their secrets."

"At last she asked them again-what of her Page? Was there nothing he desired? The three Guardsmen conferred together and came up with an answer."

"He desired a home, and a family. Sometimes he had seemed sad when he had seen the three Guardsmen visiting their mothers and fathers and siblings, for he had none and it seemed that he regretted their loss. And the Princess recalled his words: 'I have no father and no mother, no home, no country; all I have is the place I stand in and the sights and sounds my senses give me. I have no past, and I don't know what future may lie before me.'"

"Once more the Princess thought of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and once more she wondered….."

"And so, on the day which marked the one-year anniversary of her meeting with her Page, Princess Orchid brought him before the Court and declared that he was now and forevermore her adopted brother, to be one of the Royal Family from that moment forward. He was no longer her Page, but would now become a Prince in his own right. And she turned to him and asked him to give her a name, for 'Page' would not do for a Prince."

"In astonishment he stared at her, opening his mouth to answer-and catastrophe happened. Into the Court burst a contingent of the Black Knights, swords upraised and terrible! The traitors in the Princess' country had told them how to find the secret passageways through the castle, and they had traveled thus unseen to the very heart of the throneroom. Many of the lesser Guards fell, and the Princess cried out for Gensan and Hikosan to protect her advisors and ministers as she was taken away by her Page and the guard Yumisan to safety. Together the three fled towards the forest as fast as they could go, although the Princess would have stayed behind to help her people if she had been allowed."

"At last they stopped in their flight, deep within the shadows of the trees; the Page seemed to know which paths to take, and Princess Orchid and her guard followed him trustingly. "We must find help for our people and land," she cried out; "Else these Black Knights will enslave us all, leaving ruin behind them when they are finished.""

"Her Page nodded. "I know-- and there may be help to be found here, in the Forest of Secrets.  Once before I found a refuge here, and aid in a time of trouble; perhaps she who helped me will do so again." He smiled at the Princess. "Trust me, and believe.""

"For many hours they traveled, deeper and deeper into the wood, until they came to the entrance of a certain cave; by now it was darker than the darkest of shadows there below the endless trees, and the cave was noticeable only because a brilliant light shone from its opening, all red and golden. Warmth, too, emitted from the cleft in the rocks, and as the three drew nearer they saw that within the cave was a bird, burning; and the bird was a Phoenix , bound in chains."

"The Princess and her Guard approached with fear and trepidation, but the Page stepped up to the Phoenix without any signs of alarm. "Phoenix? Once before you helped me when I fled to you here, though I did not understand that I was being helped at the time. Now we are pursued by the same evil creatures that wounded me before; will you help us, and the land as well?""

"The Phoenix flickered, her fires swirling about her chains like grasping hands. She answered in the voice of a young girl: "Gladly will I help you, but my aid always comes with a price. When you came to me before, I saved your life at the cost of your identity and adulthood; you traded your years for youth and your name for that of No-one in order to be healed and to return to your Princess' side. What will you give me now, that I might aid you yet again?""

"The Princess stared at the boy, her Page who had served her so faithfully; and she wondered, as she had so many times before-and this time she asked what she had only asked but once. "Who are you?""

"He bowed his head, unanswering; but in his place the Phoenix spoke. "He cannot tell you, for I have locked his secrets within his tongue and they cannot come out. But I can speak, and I will. He is your Prince Ichi, who fought a year past with the Black Knights and was wounded near to death; fleeing within the forest he found me here and implored my help. But my aid, as I have said, comes with a price-- and the price of his healing was that he must never speak of me or of what had passed, lest he die and be foresworn; did he not promise to return to you? He did, and has kept his promise.""

"The Page was silent, but when he looked up into Princess Orchid's face she saw Prince Ichi behind the sorrow in his eyes. And she wept, knowing that her Prince had been with her all along. "But what can be done now? Can you aid us again-- destroy the Black Knights, help my people, or bring my Prince back to himself?""

"The Phoenix shook her head. "I can do none of those things-- do you not see my chains? The Black Knights bound me here long ago, and only when I break my chains myself can I act on my own. Until then I can only aid those who come to me directly and then only one time each… and they, too, must pay a price. Tell me now, Princess Orchid: What price will you pay for the help you wish?""

"The Princess brushed the tears from her eyes and stood strong and determined before the Phoenix; "Whatever is needed, that I will pay." And beside her the boy who had been Prince Ichi covered his face with his hands in sorrow while the Guardsman Yumisan looked on."

"Hours passed within the forest, moving from midnight to dawn. And as the sun rose…"

"...as the sun rose, a strange thing happened to the Forest of Secrets, and this is what it was this: Every tree, every pine and ash and maple there, each one was transformed into an armored warrior, tall and terrible and bearing the emblem of Princess Orchid upon their breasts. They thundered towards the castle, slaying every Black Knight that tried to face them down, destroying the evil that had so taken over the land as they moved forward in an unstoppable tide. Some of them paused to help the populace, putting out the fires that ravaged the land and bandaging the wounds of those who had fallen before the Black Knight's swords. Not a word was spoken by these warriors, but the anger in their eyes was a fearful thing indeed."

"At last the tide of warriors reached the castle, which had been taken entirely by the Black Knights; a fierce battle was fought between the tree-warriors and the evil invaders, and by sunset every Black Knight save for two lay dead at their hands. But when the sun began to set the warriors vanished, and the Forest of Secrets stood once again where it had been, as dark and silent as ever. But from its shadows three small figures emerged, traveling swiftly and silently towards the castle, accompanied by a fourth, taller form."

"The two remaining Black Knights took refuge in the Throne Room, holding off the guardsmen who had survived their attack with steel and sorcerous bolts of lightning; many more valiant subjects of Princess Orchid died against them, falling in battle. And as darkest night came down across the land, three small figures were seen entering the broken walls of the palace. One was a boy, well-known among the populace (who rejoiced to see their new Prince, he who had been called the Page); the other was a girl as young as he, brown of hair and with the most beautiful eyes anyone had ever seen. The third figure was another girl, golden-haired and calm of demeanor; the fourth figure, who walked behind them with wary eyes and a silent tongue was that of the Royal Guardsman, Yumisan."

"Together they entered the ruined courtyard, three children together and one adult, moving with great caution and determination among the broken walls. When at last they came to the Throne Room a great throng of the people had gathered behind them, and they began to call out to the Black Knights to come out and face them rather than hide like the cowards they were. After a little of this, the two Black Knights launched great and terrible blasts of fire from where they were bastioned, separating the four who stood foremost from the rest of the crowd and driving the others away; and the evil beings laughed to see that their opponents were nothing more than three small children and one weary Guard."

""Do not laugh," warned the boy, staring grimly at his enemies. "You live now only because I could not reach you before-- because of you I have lost everything that I ever loved, my home, my family, my very self." But in that moment the small brown-haired girl beside him took his hand, and he smiled for a moment; "Well," he said, "That's wrong; not everything."”

"He turned back to the Black Knights then and his face grew stern and most unchildlike once again. "And there is another reason why you still live: because the two here beside me have a greater claim upon your lives than I." He stepped aside then, giving place to the two young girls."

"The brown-haired girl spoke then, and her voice was strong and fierce. "For my people's sake I have given up my place among them-- now I am no-one, as homeless and nameless as the Page was when he came among us. And as he has now become a Prince of this land, I gave up this price for him as well. Will you yield to us? I will only ask you once.""

"And through it all, Yumisan the Royal Guardsman stood silent and unspeaking, watching, her hand on her swordhilt."

"The evil Black Knights howled with laughter, cold and dark as thunder and winter rain. Whyever would they yield to children? "Where are the weapons you would threaten us with?" they asked mockingly. "What will you do if we refuse? To be sure, you've killed our armies, but your warriors are gone-- you have nothing left to strike us down with!""

"At this, the last of the three children stepped forward, and her eyes were as cold as a frozen lake and as hot as the heart of the sun. Within her hand she held a feather, glowing brilliant red in the gloom of the ruined castle. "I am their weapon," she told them softly in her small girl's voice. "I am the sword at your throats, the noose around your necks, the spear at your hearts. I am the fire that burns back the darkness!" And suddenly there was no longer a girl-child there but a Phoenix, blazing with flames hotter than sunlight through a burning-glass."

"The Black Knights screamed in torment as her fiery talons grasped them; the more they screamed and struggled, the more they were engulfed by flames, until at last the screaming stopped and they were no more."

"Then, with a terrible blast of light and fury, the Phoenix dwindled to become the small golden-haired girl; she slumped to the ground, exhausted with this last great magic of hers which had gained her revenge for countless years of slavery in the Black Knight's servitude. For it was as she had told the three within her cave: Long, long ago she had been taken prison by the evil ones, the daughter of a family of wise magicians and scientists. Bewitched into the shape of a Phoenix by the blood and lives of her slaughtered family, she had been bound within the Forest of Secrets as the hidden servant of the Black Knights, there to do their bidding at their bequests. For every wish of power that they tortured out of her they would threaten to kill an innocent, against which she could not fight; therefore she had remained bound in chains for uncounted centuries, a slave in the dark."

"But even the greatest pain ends. When the Princess Orchid had offered up her woman's body and princess' name in exchange for an army of secrets to help her people, the Phoenix-child at last found the courage and strength to slip free of her chains; even the Phoenix had to pay the Phoenix' price, however, and she too gave up her form for that of innocence and helplessness, which proved not to be so helpless after all. The chains could no longer bind her-- they were too large, and she was too small-- and so she was free. With the last of her magic (bound in the single remaining Phoenix-feather) she had taken her revenge for every grief that she and so many others had suffered at the hands of the Black Knights."

"And through this all, Yumisan had watched and kept silent-- for that silence was her price, the price which would purchase the end of the Black Knights and their evil influence. Even as the last of them burned into ashes, terrible screams rang out among the remaining populace, and traitors who had hidden themselves safely among the innocent, those who had sold the country's secret weaknesses and passages among the castle for gold... they each and every one of them turned into solid black pillars of stone."

"In the end, when all was quiet and still and the people who had been driven away came back at sunrise, they found the three children resting in a sound sleep, guarded by Yumisan. The Royal Guardsman informed them that their Princess had been sent away to a far distant land to be with her Prince Ichi, for he had great need of her there; and so she would remain, for her new young adopted brother (he who had been her Page) had won the right of rulership by his deeds… and her heart cried out for her Prince."

"This grieved them greatly, for they loved their Princess Orchid; but her word was law, and the new young Prince (though only a boy) had indeed been recognized as part of the ruling line before them all the day before-- and if she gave up her crown to him, what were they to say about it?"

""But who is this?" they wondered, seeing the brown-haired young girl who had just awakened from where she lay curled at the new Prince's side. He turned to her, smiling sadly, and said "This is a maiden from my country far away who my father has sent to keep me company." And all there wondered at the strange happiness in his face."

""And this? Who is this?" they said, pointing to the golden-haired child who still slept. "She also came from my country, a cunning and well-taught artificer who will work well beside Agasan and Hikosan to guard our borders with her inventions and spells." At this the girl awoke, blinking at the rays of the rising sun; for the Phoenix had been bound too deeply inside the cave to see any light save for her own, and she had not viewed the sun for many, many years."

""Prince? How will you call yourself, by what name shall you reign over us? You never said," asked Agasan respectfully; as he was a wise man he had viewed the Page's likeness to Prince Ichi with a curious eye, but he had kept silent regarding his speculations. But now he waited for the new Prince's answer, as did all the rest of those watching.

"At that question he who had once been the Page smiled a little, considering; at last he turned to the brown-haired girl and shook his head. "I have been only a Page for so long; let another name me.""

"The girl though a while, then looked up with laughter in her eyes which many found strangely familiar. "As our Princess has gone to join her Prince Ichi, whose name means 'one', then I name you Prince Ni, whose name means 'two'." He blinked at her and looked doubtful (who had ever heard of a land ruled by someone named 'Ni'?), but accepted the name. In return she asked him for a name for herself, for she had chosen (she said) to leave her old name behind. What did he wish to call her?"

"The young Prince Ni thought to himself for a moment, then smiled down at his friend. "I think," he said softly, "that you must be named San, for as two follows one, three must certainly follow two."

"She laughed at him; "And I have followed you, have I not?""

"At this, the golden-haired girl frowned at the two beside her, crossing her arms severely. "I refuse to be called either 'Shi' or 'Yo'", she announced."

"The other two children laughed. "No, your name should be of your own choosing… but I admit that I cannot see you deciding upon any other name than Phoenix," said the young Prince, at which she conceded that he was right; after all, she had been a captive for so very many years that she had long since forgotten the name that had once been hers."

"And so the land returned to peace, ruled over by the hand of Prince Ni, whose unusual intelligence and good sense kept it safe throughout his lifetime and many generations to follow. When he came at last to adulthood, he married the beautiful Lady San (which surprised no-one at all), and-well advised by their Advisors and well guarded by their Guards-the royal couple lived long, fruitful lives, enriched by the joys of their children (whom they seemed to understand surprisingly well) and by the happiness of their people."

"And as for the Guardsman Yumisan? What she saw that night in the Forest of Secrets stayed locked forever in her heart of hearts; for that, indeed, is what a secret is: a treasure, bound in a box made all of silence. And when she saw her fellow subjects wondering about a decision that the Prince and Princess had made, or whether or not they were truly wise enough to rule, she would laugh and touch her finger to her lips, signifying silence; and then she would nod and say simply, "Trust them… and believe.""

* * * * *

NOTE:  Much of the first few chapters will be seen through a child's eyes (Ayumi's) and so will be a lot gentler than what happens later; the 'graphic depictions of violence' warning is there for a reason, but 'graphic' doesn't have to mean 'gratuitous.'  Just thought I'd say.

Chapter Text

He wasn't going to get away with it; he could tell that right now. "Aokooooo… c'mon, Aoko-"

"Stuff it." She marched him right along the hallway, one hand tight one the scruff of his jacket and the other gripping his school backpack. "If you try to steal one more thing from the kitchen, I'm going to let you have it but GOOD with something heavier than my mop. Understand?"

Kuroba Kaito swallowed the last bite of his latest pilferage quickly. Man, she can cook! "Yeah, yeah, got it. I don't know why you're so bent out of shape, though-- you made an absolute truckload of stuff for the party, there's no way you'd miss just one or two little things… OW! Quit it, Aoko!" She had shifted her grip to the hair just above his collar, and he yelped slightly as his instinctive twisting to get away yanked things painfully. "Ow! Help, police! Assault and battery! Manslaughter! Sexual harassment! Heeeeelp!!"

"OUT!"

Pushing him into the main room of the house, her eyes flashed dangerously as she glared him down. Nakamori Aoko, age 18 as of 11:07 p.m. that night, did not take her best friend's talents at food-thievery lightly-- too many incidents in the past had proven that he not only could stash an amazing amount of anything edible and tasty that he found within his grabby reach away into hiding places unknown, he WOULD if at all possible. Sometimes she wondered just how he had stolen that entire carton of eggs one Spring day when they were twelve; it had simply disappeared from the refrigerator and her father had assumed that they had been thrown out by mistake. When they showed up the next morning on her doorstep in an American-style Easter basket (ornately if amateurishly dyed and decorated), she had simply rolled her eyes and cracked the shell on one, intending to eat it.

If only he had boiled them first, he wouldn't have gotten hit with her mop after she washed the raw egg off her hands…

He fell over dramatically onto her couch in a sprawl of long, lanky limbs, his backpack sliding to the floor with a thump! "Nobody trusts me…" he moaned, throwing the back of one hand theatrically across his eyes. "I'm just a poor, helpless, starving magician, soon to be forced to eat all my doves and turn my rabbit into stir-fry-- look, see? I'm just skin and bones!"

With a pathetic groan he tossed something yellow-white in her direction, and she instinctively caught it before yelping as she flung the life-sized skeleton-hand back into the air. "KAITO! Where the hell-- Where did you get that?"

From his loose-limbed collapse on the couch he grinned angelically up at her; the rubber 'hand' bounced off the cushion beside his head. "Oh, go right ahead and swear; don't mind me."

"Kaitoooo…" A boiling-point was rapidly being reached--

The young man smirked, dark blue eyes gleaming with humor. "That novelty shop down on Yakumo-- you know, the one with the neon flamingo on the sign? Early Halloween stuff; it is only a month away or so, y'know."

She knew. The custom wasn't celebrated throughout Japan, but it might as well have been considering how he had adopted and perpetuated it through their school. Ever since he had discovered the Western holiday as a child he had positively gloried in it, choosing that day out of all the rest of the year for his wildest pranks and tricks… Previous years' pranks had included (but not been confined to) exploding topiary, peculiar 'prizes' turning up in school lunches (sometimes mobile, sometimes not), carefully choreographed school-desk dances (the desks had danced, not the students) and the appearance of random and bizarre livestock in unusual places (lockers, pockets, light-fixtures, backpacks… Aoko would remember finding a live and decidedly unhappy squid on her lunch-tray as long as she lived; she still couldn't eat the things). He hadn't quite managed to top the one he pulled in tenth grade as yet (how he had arranged for absolutely everyone in their class's undergarments to turn bright fuchsia on command she hadn't a clue), but he was always trying… and God Alone knew what he was going to come up with this year.

Aoko had a feeling it would be something- special. After all, they were graduating soon.

She gave him another glare. "You stay right here, got it? Or I swear I'll-- I'll serve nothing but fish at my party! Fish-shaped cookies, fried fish, broiled fish, fishcakes, sushi--"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Kaito said hastily, wincing. "Got it. I'll just huddle here and fend off death from starvation..." He flopped back again to lie dejectedly on the couch, his hand drooping back across his eyes as he yawned. With that peculiar grace that no-one except Kuroba Kaito seemed to possess, he stretched like a cat… and then seemed to fall almost instantly asleep, his breathing slowing, his fingers relaxing.

Aoko had seen him do this before-and she never failed to appreciate the effect, although it would take the most painful tortures imaginable to drag an admission out of her. That long-limbed body, so restless… loose and boneless now, still at last (well, for the moment.) It never lasted long. But right now the afternoon sun was slanting across his face between the window-blinds, throwing everything into sharp relief; she could see how it crept beneath the back of his hand and outlined the shape of Kaito's one visible eye (closed; he had absurdly long eyelashes for a guy) in vivid, spiky silhouette. The nervous hands were quiet for a change, the fingers narrow and strong with years of control; he had pushed his sleeves back, and Aoko could see the long muscles of his arms molded by the sunlight in smooth curves and swells.

She didn't even realize that she had been just standing there, staring, until he turned his head and blinked at her from beneath his hand. "Aoko? What is it?"

The young woman started, falling back a step. "Uh--? Um, nothing. Just thinking." She hesitated, then shrugged and turned to walk back down the hall towards the kitchen. Behind her she heard Kaito settling back down onto the couch with a sigh.

What did you think you were doing, anyway? she snarled angrily to herself. Standing there like an idiot, just watching him-- it was just Kaito, for God's sake, just the same boy she had known since she was a kid… the same boy she had laughed at, gotten in trouble with, shouted at, worried over and argued with for the bulk of her lifetime. What was WRONG with her lately, anyway?

It had to be the birthday; right, that was it. She swung into the kitchen, knocking a spoon off the counter in her haste; it clattered on the floor and she muttered beneath her breath as she stooped to pick it up. Birthdays... They were a bad idea, anyway. So you were getting older, big deal-- what was one more year? I mean, look at last year's party; it was fine and all that, but Kaito didn't even come! The water went on, heating; out came the scrubber, the work keeping time with the patter of Aoko's thoughts. Not that I care… but he said he would, and he didn't. He's SUCH an airhead sometimes; rude, thoughtless, forgetful… of course, later on he put on that fireworks display and spelled my name out down the side of a skyscraper (how?) and everybody was talking about it for days--

I guess it was a pretty good birthday, after all.

But this year... why did this year feel so different? Was it just because they were graduating, because they were both going to be considered adults? As she methodically began to wash the next sink-full of dishes, Aoko had to admit that that was a pretty big 'just', really. Was that why she was looking at Kaito so-- so differently?

Or was it him?

This had been going on for months now, this stupid change in how she was seeing him. Sometimes she almost thought he had been looking at her differently too, but-- She thunked a cup down onto the drainer to one side of the sink with more violence than was really necessary. Had he done something to make him look so-- to make those long limbs and that stupid face of his so--

Aaaaargh! Hormones. It's just hormones. @#$%!! hormones.

Aoko swore to herself as she scrubbed with a particular vengeance at the last pan, dredging up some of her father's more interesting words. I really need to stop that, it's a bad habit. Sometimes it felt so good to let off a little steam, though-- hence her mop. What had started as a silly sort of retaliation had become a habit, then an instinctual response, and then something she actually enjoyed… and, oddly enough, that was when she had first started really looking at Kaito.

If he wasn't so damned graceful, if he didn't MOVE like that… nobody else moves like that. And nobody but me gets to really see how other people move when they're being chased-- how many other girls actually take off in hot pursuit? The police term slipped into the language of her thoughts with the ease of long familiarity; as she grew older, she had found herself adopting more and more of her father's attitudes and habits (though not, she congratulated herself, his bull-headedness and tendency towards tunnel-vision.)

Most people didn't have such a physical relationship with anybody else (well, aside from the romantic kind) either; she knew how Kaito moved, how he would respond if she swung something like her mop at him, how he would dodge and duck and leap--

--how his eyes gleamed with laughter as he avoided a swing, how he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once-- she knew. Except for every once in a while, when he'd do something so fast and deliberate that she'd be left gasping. He always looked a little abashed after that, though, as if he'd broken some rule.

The young woman sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel; the kitchen was warm and rather pungent right now, scented with ginger and the pepper she had used earlier that day. The faintest of cool breezes fluttered the somewhat frayed curtains over the sink (idly Aoko noted one more time that she really needed to replace them before they fell apart), sending a single, clean note of early Autumn air into the room. It moved through the scented lukewarm stuffiness like a ray of sunlight, and she lifted her head to breathe it in.

That's how he is, really; that's part of the fascination-he's sort of like that breath of wind. Different. Stupid Kaito-he's such a bother and he gets on my nerves-- but he's not like everybody else, not at all, and I just can't help but watch him; he makes everybody around him look dull as… as dishwater.

Aoko sighed, leaning back for a second-- just a second, she told herself-- to enjoy the breeze.

*

Meanwhile, back in the main room…

…zzzzzz… zzzzz… zzzsnerkkk?

Two dark blue eyes opened from beneath the back of a hand. She's gone?… right, I can hear dishes clattering; she must be back in the kitchen. Yeah, there goes that creaky bit of the floor right next to the stove, too. Good-- now I can get to work.

With a prolonged yawn he streeeetched, scratching at his hair with one hand and feeling in his pockets with the other. Mmmmm… tape, string, wire, pressure sensors… a little of this, a bit of that… Perfect. And she'll be a little while; couldn't pick a better time for setup. Heh-- 'Trust your friends, but deal the cards yourself'. Time to deal a few cards off the bottom of the deck for a good cause. Stretching one last time, he picked up his backpack from the floor and extracted some of the larger materials as well. Timer… projector… specially-treated Rosacea Alba Suaveolens…

The next few minutes were busy ones as he attached things here, adjusted things there, hid things everywhere, darting around the room like a hummingbird on caffeine; he'd been planning Aoko's "birthday trick" for the last few months and it took more than a little preparation to set up. If everything went right, though, she'd remember this one for the rest of her life. If it went wrong… well, he'd probably regret it for the rest of his. This trick was as important to him as any of his heists.

And speaking of heists...

He'd been planning another kind of trick for days now; a bit different from his usual line of work this time, not the normal snatch of a precious gemstone or piece of elaborate jewelry… Oh no, this was a lot more intriguing; more difficult, too, in its way. As Kaito carefully ran a small, insignificant-looking line of wire along the edge of the carpet, he grinned a little to himself in anticipation, feeling the usual rush and rise of excitement deep down at the thought of his next 'acquisition'…

The local University was holding a really interesting display of Western and Eastern jewelry, from places as distant as Russian or nearby as China-- and one of them had an odd reputation behind it, complete with rumored powers of immortality. Total myth and fairytales, he was certain… but if it just happened to be the Pandora Gem, well-- he needed to know, didn't he? It wouldn't do for anybody else to get hold of it first, especially the bastards who had killed his father… Heh; MY gem. Lowlife thieves and murderers need not apply. Sometimes he could get juuuuust a little posessive about things like that.

The grand opening of the exhibit was next Friday at 10 a.m.; he (Kid, that is) really hated daylight heists as a general thing and they didn't suit his image at ALL, so he'd have to think about how to handle this one... he had a few ideas, actually. As Kaito clipped the last wire and screwed in the last bulb, he smiled a small, secret smile; convenient of the college to hold the show in a windowless building, all high-tech, modernistic architecture-- in a couple of days he'd have to head over and make a few arrangements for that little magic trick.

The thing was, he needed to strike quickly. Kaito was certain he wasn't the only person to pick up on his target's history, and the Bastards In Black were sure to be around. It wouldn't be the first time and it wouldn't be the last (unless, of course, this WAS the Pandora Gem. Then? Who knew?)

So… Daylight Heist Time, maybe? He'd have to figure out a suitably-intriguing announcement to Nakamori ASAP. Oh well… He shrugged, stuffing the last of his tools into his pockets and checking the settings of the projector unit; handy little thing, that, barely more than six inches tall and beautifully designed-- he had found it (of all places) in an online catalogue of kid's toys. He admired it one last time, glanced around, and carefully tucked it away in its place at the bottom of an empty trashcan to sit well-hidden beneath the plastic liner. Wonder if Ayumi-chan'd like this later on? Bet she'd have a blast with it.

Ayumi-chan…

And I wonder how things went for her? Poor kid, hope it wasn't too traumatic. Bet I'll know pretty soon… There's no freaking WAY the Shrimp wouldn't figure out it was me, sooner or later; better be careful and check for runty little figures in the shadows wherever I go for a while. Not that I expect being extra careful to really do much good-Kudo's way too good at what he does, Shrimp or not-- but I'd rather orchestrate our next meeting myself, just like last time when he was in the hospital. He snickered silently at the memory, flopping back onto the couch and regarding the room with a critical eye; good, it looked just the same as before. Aoko had already cleaned in there, so his little 'improvements' weren't likely to be disturbed.

A particular grin snuck out past Kaito's usual guard, white as the moon and disturbingly familiar to such people as Nakamori Senior, Hakuba, the entire Task Force, et cetera; then if softened considerably as he thought of how Aoko had just stood there, staring at him from the doorway, thinking he was asleep… Warmth seemed to thrill through the length of his spine as he recalled her eyes and how he had felt as her gaze brushed over him like the softest of feathers, familiar and strange and wonderful and frightening all at one and the same time--

Just work like you're supposed to, okay? he thought at his gizmos; please. It was almost a prayer. Just do what I designed you to do…

…and THEN we should see some fireworks.

* * *

"Ayumi-chan? What are you doing?" The little girl's mother paused on her way to the bathroom; her daughter sat at her desk, pyjama'd legs crossed Indian-fashion in the wooden chair. From the doorway Yoshida Miiri could hear the scribble of some sort of writing implement-- markers or some such thing?

"Drawing, kaasan." The child's voice was preoccupied, her head bent over her work; the tip of her tongue stuck out of one side of her mouth and her brows were crooked down. Her mother wandered up, smiling, to peer at what was so absorbing her child.

Several crumpled pages in the wastecan gave evidence that she wanted to get this drawing right; at the moment she seemed happy with what she had done-- she was adding color now, working carefully in between the lines--and her mother beheld what appeared to be a drawing of a woman. Blonde hair with a little brown mixed in, bangs cutting across the forehead at a ragged angle, the subject of her daughter's artwork seemed to have a serious look on her face (the mouth was a straight line) and was holding a... beaker? and wearing a long white jacket of some sort. A lab coat, decided Yoshida Miiri, cocking her head to one side much as her daughter so often did. The second, smaller figure in the drawing looked rather like Ayumi's usual self-image sketch, but why had the child drawn herself with her hands over her mouth? "'Yumi-chan? Is this one of your teachers?"

The little girl squinted critically at her drawing, pausing for a second. "…um… No, but she's at school with me." Back to work went the markers; scribble, scribble…

She must work there, then. Perhaps one of the higher grades' teachers? "It's a very nice drawing; you must like her very much to work so hard on this. Is it a present?"

Scribble, scritch… "Uh huh. She's one of my friends." Scribble, scritch-scratch-scribble...

Her mother chuckled; the small, dark head was bent so seriously over the desk-- she could have been a college student, absorbed in her studies or working on her thesis. "Well, don't stay up too late, 'Yumi-chan, you've got school tomorrow, remember?" Miiri tickled the back of her child's neck a little, making the little girl giggle and squirm slightly. "Oyasumi, Ayumi…" She dropped a kiss on the child's head.

"Oyasumi, Kaasan…" Scribble, scritch-scritch, scribble... The door closed behind her mother.

Ayumi sat back in her chair, frowning down at her artwork as she nibbled thoughtfully on the end of her marker. She hoped that Ai-kun would like it-- after all, the other girl would probably be upset when she heard that somebody had figured out about Rin and Conan.

Ran and Shinichi, said her mind's voice; she shook her head. Names were funny things; she still called Ai 'Haibara-san' sometimes-- her classmate was hard to get to know easily, and that had kept them all using her more formal name for a long time. Actually Ayumi had started calling her 'Ai-kun' or sometimes even 'Ai-chan' only a few months back; for some reason she had wondered if maybe her friend might like it better.

Ai was a sort of lonely person, thought Ayumi, carefully adding a few bits more with a yellow marker; she needed more friends. Maybe when she had been a grownup she hadn't ever learned how to make them; if that were so, then at least she had a chance to do it now. So Ayumi was determined to let her know that she was still her friend… even if Ai-kun had been a grownup.

A yawn interrupted the girl's work; she leaned back again and stretched, arms above her head. As she slid from her chair she blinked at the clock beside her bed-- 9:00 already? She had stayed up late! Hopefully Ai-kun would be happy with her picture; it was sort of an apology and a present and a promise all in one, and there'd been a lot that Ayumi had wanted it to say.

Folding the paper carefully, she tucked it into her school backpack and turned off the light. As she settled into the cool sheets and the warmth of her quilt, she tucked her hands behind her head (like Hei-san had on the branch the other day, she thought) and stared sleepily at the darkened ceiling. Two years before Kaasan had painted stars above her bed with glow-in-the-dark paint; it had faded a little with time, but the designs still retained enough luminosity to be visible. They had started learning about constellations at school, so while she waited for sleep to come Ayumi traced what patterns she could remember from star to star with one finger, drawing them in the air.

Stars... People make wishes on stars. I wonder if Rin-kun and Conan-kun-- Ran and Shinichi-- did that when they were little? The first time, I mean; I bet they did. I wonder why people make wishes on stars and not the moon? The moon's bigger, maybe it could make bigger wishes come true... She yawned, and her eyes began to drift closed. It was hard to hold them open when you were sleepy, anyway, so Ayumi let them close and spent a minute or two wondering why it was so much easier to be tired when it was dark than when it was light.

The covers were a little too heavy tonight, though and she blinked back up at her ceiling; her window was closed, and the room was a little too warm. Still yawning cavernously, Ayumi pushed the quilt and sheets back and slid out of bed, pattering over to her balcony-door and clicking the lock open. Kaasan didn't know she sometimes slept with the door open; she had so far managed to close it before she left the room. Sometimes it felt so good, just having a breeze blowing in... and you could hear the city below, so far away; nothing could hurt her up here, nothing could reach her balcony. Ayumi spent a few moments just standing there, looking out at the cloudy sky; no stars tonight. But it was still nice, even though she could hear the traffic blaring way, way down there: beeps and roars, screeches and dull hums and the swish of movement.

As she turned to go back to bed, she caught a sweet scent; was that--? My rosebush! It IS blooming! And it was-- two delicate half-opened buds, just wide enough to release a heady, wonderful aroma that made her dart back to the door and out onto the balcony in excitement. Cupping small hands around the blooms, the child breathed in their own breathe, vibrant and alive; Oooooh… two of them are blooming, two of them--!

Ayumi had never grown anything before except for some radishes for her mother (at school, though-- they all got to plant just a few seeds in a window box and take them home later; hers would probably have looked and tasted a lot better if she hadn't kept digging them up to see how they were doing.) Now, slipping back to bed with the scent of the roses still on her fingers, she began to wonder what else she could grow on her balcony...

Tomorrow she'd talk to her Kaasan about it. She turned on her side so that the two blooms were visible from her place on the pillow, gleaming like dim stars in the half-light/half-dark of the city. Stars again... they're prettier than the ones on my ceiling, too. AND they smell nice. Can you wish on roses the way you wish on stars?... If I could… what would I wish for?

I think I'd wish for… more white roses. And some new markers, 'cause mine are starting to get scratchy. And maybe to learn more magic tricks from Hei-san, and maybe how to really throw my voice. Or to get better at imitating other people's voices-- when I tried to imitate Mitsuhiko's, everybody laughed. I still think I sounded just like him, though… and I can do Conan's already; I sure made him jump when I did that, and Rin-kun wouldn't stop laughing. Ayumi's eyelids slid closed again. She said I did it just right, and he turned bright red... I wonder if he got embarrassed when he was Shinichi-niisan too? Rin-kun could tell me; she'd know.

She yawned, eyes completely closed now; she could still smell her flowers on the breeze.

More roses, more tricks, and... and... I don't know. Why do people always get three wishes in the fairytales? And… what if you can't think of a third wish? Do you lose it, or can you give it away…? Half-asleep, her breathing began to slow a little as she drifted. I need… to think… of another wish...

I… wish...

...wish…

Ayumi's thoughts slid away into dreams, flavored with the scent of roses and the sounds of the city night.

* * *

Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-- Kaito's thoughts bounced along happily in rhythm with the pounding music coming from the main room of Aoko's house; he loved parties.

His hands moved without much in the way of conscious direction, one grabbing plastic cups from a pack and the other scooping and flinging ice towards the containers with absolute accuracy (he hadn't dropped a cube yet.) As a cup filled, it would be tossed absentmindedly to smack down onto a tray, perfectly upright.

Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!--

The "Aoko Hits The Big 18" celebration was in full swing; her schoolmates were everywhere, sprawled over any furniture or piece of floor available, dancing, munching, talking and talking and talking (or attempting to, at least) over the blare of noise. Streamers hung from the ceiling, any number of presents had appeared back by the cake, and somehow a number of people's personal possessions (hats, jewelry, the occasional sock) had ended up hanging from the light-fixtures, tops of bookcases and other high places. When a pointed question or two had been sent Kaito's way regarding the impromptu 'decorations', he had simply grinned and spread his hands with a shrug… and with absolutely no attempt to look innocent.

Got a reputation to uphold, after all, he thought smugly, tossing the last cup towards the tray; it landed with a light clatter, and he took that tray and two others out to the main drinks table. Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-- Wonder where Aoko's gotten to? Hope she's having a good time--

Her father had vacated the house for the evening; with what was a rare show of good sense, Nakamori Senior had decided that this would be a perfect opportunity to visit a couple of friends on the other side of town overnight. While he did tend towards being a suspicious and occasionally over-protective father (when he could be bothered, that is), he wasn't stupid. So he had gruffly wished his daughter a happy birthday, issued any number of warnings, threatened immediate and painful death to anyone he found out had done anything to her whatsoever, caught a train, and left Aoko to have a good time on her own.

Now WHERE did she get to? Gotta be around here somewhere--

She wasn't in sight, but as he deftly slid the filled cups onto the table a slightly amused voice came from behind: "You make a pretty good maid, Kuroba; maybe you should take it up professionally."

Leaning nonchalantly against the angle of the nearest doorway, Hakuba Saguru smirked a little at his classmate. His blonde hair was slightly disarrayed, and he looked oddly unfamiliar out of his usual school uniform or the suits he seemed to favor when out in public. The round vowels of his upperclass British schooling contrasted strongly with his Japanese, but his diction was, as always, perfect; crossing his arms, he favored Kaito with one raised eyebrow. "Looks like you've even managed to acquire a uniform; it looks… interesting. But then, white is your color, hm?"

Kaito glanced down at the ruffled white apron he had whimsically put on over his black jeans and sweatshirt (he had found it in the kitchen); the contrast was very official-looking, and he grinned at the not-so-subtle hint the other teenager made towards his suspected 'occupation.' "Really? Thought I looked pretty good in black, myself. If I could just find a maid's cap, you know, one with all the ribbons? Oh well. Anyway, you know what they say: 'Don't quit your day job...' Good advice, huh, Saguru-chaaan?"

The familiarity of the diminutive made the other grimace in irritation; he shrugged resignedly, a faintly sarcastic gleam in his light eyes. "Save it. Considering that I don't tend to take advice from a--"

A crash and several feminine shrieks from the front door made him break off his commentary ("Thank You," muttered Kaito, rolling his eyes heavenwards); several latecomers had all tried to crowd through at once, including Aoko's close friend Keiko. She seemed to be lugging a rather clumsily-wrapped box, and when she saw Kaito she made a beeline straight towards him.

Uh oh. He tried to slip into stealth-mode and out through the crowd around the table, but Keiko was persistant and quite capable of ruthlessly trampling innocent bystanders without a second thought. As she grabbed him by his arm, she hissed out "KAITO-KUN! You've gotta help me hide this!" and he winced, eyeing the box with disfavor; it seemed to have airholes. This did NOT bode well.

"Uhhhhh…. Why?" He could hear Hakuba snickering, damn him.

The girl rolled her eyes. "BeCAUSE it's a present for Aoko-kun, and if I sit it down for long it's gonna start wailing and try and get out--" She squawked slightly as the box shifted in her hands; a muffled sound came from within, almost totally hidden by the thump of the music and the loud conversation on all sides: "Mew? Mewyow?"

Kaito stared. "You… got her a cat?? Keiko, she's gonna have your hide, you know that--"

The present was really moving now; as the girl shifted somewhat frantically for a better hold, a scrabbling, digging noise was audible from one corner. The paper around one airhole rustled sharply, and Keiko yeeped slightly as one claw hooked right through the cardboard and into her finger. "Yowwow? Mew! MROWOW WOWW!" The thing in the box seemed to have quite a vocabulary, and so far it had all consisted of swearwords.

"HERE! You take it-she won't suspect YOU--" With this complete and blatant lie, Keiko thrust the container into Kaito's arms; he yelped, grabbing it at the last moment. Behind his back Hakuba was now beginning to laugh outright, something that rarely happened; the teenager in the maid's apron shot him a dirty look over one shoulder, then turned back around to the girl. "Um, Keiko, of ALL the people here you think Aoko'd think I was innocent? Hell, all I have to do is look at her and she suspects something--"

"Not without reason…" Snicker, snicker.

"Shut up, Saguru-chan. Can't we, I dunno, hide it under the sink or something 'til she opens her presents?" The 'present' bounced a little in his hands as its contents began a no-holds-barred attempt to shred its way through the bottom; muffled cat-curses and imprecations began to fill the air, drawing curious looks from the nearer partygoers. "Ah, shit--! Little bugger's got teeth--" Kaito yanked an exploratory finger back from an airhole, examining it for damage; when he glanced back up, Keiko had hightailed it off into the crowd. "Dammit!"

Ignoring the continued laughter from behind his back, he glanced at the clock; 10:25 p.m.-- Aoko'd be opening her presents in a few minutes, anyway... Sigh. Gingerly he hefted the box; it wasn't that heavy, after all, or that big--

Raising it to head-level, he peered in through one of the airholes; a blazing sky-blue eye met his and he drew back in alarm. Blue? WHERE did Keiko get this thing? If it's a Siamese, that'd account for the vocals, but they're pretty damned expensive-- Claws tried to widen the hole, attached to distinctly white-furred toes; not a Siamese, then. Maybe the cat or Fiend From Hell or whatever-it-was had something exotic in its ancestry, though; he had heard once that every kitten in a litter could have a different father. Heh; this one's mom must've gotten creative--DAMmit, there goes the claws again! I take it back, daddy must've been a bakemono, not a Siamese--

No good could come of this, he was certain. Oh well...

Kaito wound his way through the crowd towards the heap of presents occupying a corner; carefully sliding the box beneath a table to one side (and muttering "Back, back, Foul Beast From Hell!") the teenager wiped blood from an abused digit or two off on his shirtcuff-- he just couldn't bring himself to get it all over the apron. Better take this off, anyway; I've done my duty to the party; if we run out of any more stuff, people can fend for themselves. WHERE is Aoko, anyway?

Oh-- THERE she is... That's better; she looks more like herself now. Yeah.

Earlier, when the first guests had arrived, Nakamori Aoko had been dressed up and nervous in an outfit he had never seen her wear before, a cornflower-blue dress of simple cut… and devastating effect. Apparently she had decided to go all out tonight (hell, she was entitled; it was her eighteenth, after all, informal party or not.) It wasn't that the outfit was all that revealing or anything-- no, there was just something about it… about how the fabric was cut to drape from shoulder to shoulder in soft folds, how the waist seemed to mold itself onto her and then flow gracefully around a pair of legs that (Kaito would readily admit) really looked very, very nice. Outstanding, even. Everything about her looked pretty outstanding tonight, actually.

He was a lot more used to seeing her in her school uniform, or maybe in the simple outfits she tended to wear around home-it wasn't unknown over the last year or so for her to be seen out climbing the roof in jeans as scruffy as Kaito's, fixing a leak with a bucket of roof-seal and a determined expression. Her father never seemed to have much time to do anything around the house, so most of the repairs were up to her-or Kaito, who helped out when needed. So jeans and t-shirts fit his mental image of Aoko a lot better than the elegant dress, no matter how good she looked in it-and she did look good, but-

But now-

Her hair was down, loosened from the careful way she had pinned it up earlier; it fell about her shoulders in its usual disarray, thick-locked and heavy. Sitting cross-legged with a few friends, Aoko had apparently forgotten about being stylish and all eighteen and everything; she was relaxed now, easy and comfortable on a floor cushion with her sleeves pushed up and her face flushed.

She looks… well, idiot, go ahead and think it, anyway, even if you can't say it: beautiful. Aoko looks beautiful. She looked good earlier, but this is… much nicer. He simply watched her for a moment, not really thinking anything coherent other than beautiful. As if she had heard him, she suddenly looked up and met his eyes across the room; her already pink cheeks reddened even more, and she opened her mouth as if to say--

"DRUMROLL, PLEASE!!!" A thunderous clanging noise filed the air, coming from the doorway behind Kaito; he jumped like a scalded cat ("Mwow?" said the box under the table) as three of their classmates filed into the room, banging on pots from the kitchen with wooden spoons. Kaito sagged back against the wall beside the present-pile as they marched up to Aoko and began dragging her to her feet; she protested, laughing, but one of the impromptu drummers shook his head vehemently. "PRESENT TIME!" he chorused gleefully to loud cheers from the audience and his fellow 'musicians', and Aoko, still laughing, allowed herself to be dragged to the pile of gifts. Kaito blew out a sigh of relief (or possibly disappointment; what had she been about to say, anyway?) and leaned back against the wall to watch.

The next twenty minutes or so were a frenzy of ripped wrapping paper, opened boxes and squeals of excitement or howls of laughter; people tended to give Aoko-kun interesting gifts. Privately Kaito wondered just what she was going to do with the three-foot-tall stuffed panda, but that just sort of added to the present, he guessed. CDs, books, that sort of thing-- Nice prezzies, he thought with a smile, quirking one eyebrow at the English-made scarf that Hakuba had presented her with. Dream on, 'Saguru-chan'-- you're not her type.

A small voice somewhere inside added softly: Or I hope not, anyway…

She was wearing the scarf. Of course, she was also wearing the fuzzy bedroom slippers, new bluetooth headphones and the Micky Mouse hat one of her friends had brought back from DisneylandParis. So maybe that didn't count.

A sudden sharp pain in his ankle made him give a sudden hop and yelp; WHATtheHell ??… Oh. Thudding noises and an extended, swiping furry limb equipped with surprisingly large claws indicated that Keiko's 'gift' was getting closer to freedom all the time. "Uh, Keiko? Your… present? I think it wants to have a word with you," said Kaito, picking the girl out from the crowd. She made a horrified face and violently shook her head; Aoko watched quizzically as her friend attempted to backpedal her way through their classmates with no success.

The young man grinned somewhat nastily, avoiding another swipe of claws. Ohhhhh NO way, Keiko; you brought the little monster, it's YOUR present to Aoko, and second thoughts won't get you out of this one. "Hey, Aoko-kun? Keiko's got something for you down here… she asked me to keep an eye on it for you; must be something really special..." He trailed off teasingly; Aoko gave him a suspicious look, but peered under the table anyway. The room quieted down a little as she slowly pulled out the box (which now looked somewhat worse to wear, due to the extended claw marks and gnawing around each airhole.)

"Um, Aoko? You might wanna be sort of careful..." You might want to put on battle armor...

Aoko gave him another suspicious glance (and he hadn't done a thing yet), then poked gently at a hole; the box which had previously given every indication of containing anything from Darth Vader's Personal Meanness Trainer to a chibified Fiend From The Pit was suddenly silent and still--

"Mew?"

Aoko opened the box.

"Mew? Meow? Purrr?"

"Oooohhhhh… Oh, Keiko, it's so CUTE!"

purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

It was fluffy and white and small and distinctly did not look like a Foul Demonic Beast From The Depths Of Hell. The kitten blinked cute blue eyes cutely at its new owner and yawned in a very cute manner, oozing cute-waves in all directions simultaneously. Kaito felt his eyes growing wide; Keiko looked ready to faint from relief.

No freaking way… It IS a bakemono, if it can do stuff like go from being Godzilla to HelloKitty in a split second... The teenager blinked at the ball of white fuzz in bemusement; Aoko had it tucked underneath her chin as it kneaded its paws in bliss, eyes closed. Okay, maybe I just got a bad impression; maybe it just didn't like being in the box or something? I mean, who would? It--

That was when the kitten opened its blue eyes again and stared at Kaito with what could only be called a nasty grin; the white tail lashed once or twice, and he saw the claws flex. He swallowed. Okay; guess that clears THAT up. It's a Fiend From The Pit, right enough.

Aoko was thanking Keiko (who looked understandably relieved, if a little shocked; she stroked the kitten's head gingerly and got a distinctly menacing look from beneath a fluffy paw as the kitten batted at her finger. Other people were crowding around with cries of "Kawaiiiii!", but the girl hugged her new pet a little protectively, saying it was "shy."

Yeah, right, shy as a vulture on a carcass in the desert, thought Kaito as his scratched ankle gave him a twinge. "So Aoko, what're you gonna name him? Her? It?"

I've got a few suggestions--

The girl frowned down at the fluffball that had now settled itself comfortably into her arms; it (he? she?) blinked innocent blue eyes up at her, still emitting cuteness-waves, tapping at her nose cutely with one cute paw. "I think I'll name him… her… whatever… uhm..." The roomful of people quieted a little in anticipation.

"... Spot."

"SPOT???" chorused a dozen or so voices, accompanied by puzzled looks. Giggles came from the crowd, and Kaito blinked in puzzlement. Spot?

Aoko got that slightly belligerent look of hers, usually a prelude to a mop incident. "Well, it IS a spot-- a white one; there's not another color on her. Him. Whatever." She snuggled the kitten close, turning it around and giving it a careful once-over; “...uh, him. I think.” It-- he-- purred, one eye barely slitted open to glare balefully at Kaito, who resolved to keep a careful eye on the creature...

...from a safe distance.

Oh well; better that she's snuggling a kitten-or-whatever-it-is than a few other creatures I can think of.  He could see Hakuba a dozen feet away or so, looking distinctly annoyed for some reason; he was--? Yeah, he was glaring at the kitten, who smirked back. Coolness; maybe he didn't like cats. The teenager grinned a little smugly to himself; he liked cats-- it was just that he wasn't entirely certain that the mutant hairball Aoko was currently holding was specifically a normal feline. Or even an abnormal one, for that matter... Cats did not, in his experience, tend to smirk.

Hm-- what time is it? Whoah, eleven on the dot! Prep-time; better take care of a few things here and there. He realized belatedly that he had never taken off the apron, so Kaito put it to good use by playing the maid again; gathering up soda-cans, plates and other miscellaneous trash, he dumped the whole lot into a certain wastecan and hauled it into the kitchen for emptying, as well as a few bits of necessary arrangements. A minute or two later (minus the apron), the young magician carted the wastecan back out into the room and plunked it down dead-center.

People were beginning to gather; everybody knew the drill from parties past: Aoko had been born a few minutes after eleven p.m., and that's when her 'birthday trick' would take place. Kaito chuckled softly, half-sitting on the trashcan's rim; a tap on his shoulder made him turn his head, and he was looking straight into Aoko's eyes. "What are you grinning about?" she said, a note of teasing replacing the more common annoyed sharpness of her tone; "Anybody'd think this was your birthday, not mine…."

He just shook his head, not really knowing how to explain. In a way, the chance to show off one of his more grandiose tricks was as good as a gift; how often did he get to do just that, after all? Aside from his episodes as Kid, of course-and he couldn't talk about those, not ever. Sometimes, in his heart of hearts and at his weakest moments, Kaito almost wished he would slip up somehow…. that Aoko would find out. That they could just talk about it, get over the misunderstandings and anger and all the rest-

That he could just stop lying... to somebody, at least. Just to one person.

But THAT wasn't going to happen anytime soon, sooo-- he'd just have to take the chances he was given. Or the ones he arranged... 'Trust your friends, but deal the cards yourself.' Good advice too, better than 'Don't quit your day job' any time; I don't think I'll pass it along to Hakuba, though.

The clock now said eleven-oh-six; showtime... Kaito cleared his throat, feeling the usual excitement (and just a little lunacy) bubbling up underneath everything. This was going to be special.

Slipping off the lip of the trashcan, the magician stood up straight; at the proper twist of a wrist, a set of miniature relays slid into his palm from one sleeve as he tucked it into one pocket. Raising the other hand above his head, he called out loudly: "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! LIGHTS AND YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE…" The lights and thumping music immediately cut off; it didn't escape a few people's appreciative notice that no-one had touched any buttons or switches.

As the darkened room quieted, Kaito clicked his fingers once. "Excuse me, everybody? I'd like to propose a toast to somebody we all know and occasionally run from..." (he ducked a sudden swing at his head) "…Nakamori Aoko!" Plastic cups, soda-cans and the occasional mug clinked all over the room to a chorus of cheers; from nowhere he produced a wineglass full of something bubbly. Raising it high, Kuroba Kaito turned towards the girl who was practically glowing in the dark by now from embarrassment; she had expected something like this, but…

"Happy Birthday, Aoko-kun." His voice was unexpectedly gentle, and quite a number of Kaito's classmates blinked at this in the dark. "Y'know, I wanted to get you something special for tonight, but I couldn't think of anything really right; so, I thought maybe we all ought to go somewhere special instead. Whatcha think?" She stared at him through the shadowy room, puzzled; an intrigued murmur came from the crowd and then died away in anticipation.

(Kaito pressed the first relay--) "Let's see… outside would be nice..."

Gasps filled the room as walls, ceiling and the occasional person were suddenly covered with stars. Stars everywhere, projected from an unknown source, glittering and gleaming in brilliant points of light and traceries of constellations, stars moving gently in stellar procession in every direction...

"And... we need a proper atmosphere; how about a garden?" (Sweating a little, he pressed the second set of switches; God, he hoped nothing had wilted yet.)

More gasps as everywhere, everywhere, roses began to bloom. Greenery crept out as the pure white buds seemed to open magically on top of bookcases, from around the backs of doors, along the edge of the carpet, the top of the stereo, the light fixtures, the pictures on the walls... everywhere. Their scent filled the room, cutting through the aroma of too many sweaty teenagers and a fair amount of clandestine alcohol.

The roses glowed faintly in the dark; Kaito breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure that the luminescence he had treated them with would keep on working, but apparently it had. They didn't even look wilted, either-- the tiny vials of liquid that each one was seated in had done their trick, and each rose (he hoped) would stay fresh until dawn, when all the best illusions ended.

Beside him Aoko was totally rigid with shock and astonishment; she stared around with huge eyes, taking in the starlit garden that her main room had become. He friend's heart danced with glee as he clicked the last relay. "One last thing-- gotta have the right kind of music, too..."

He had found them online, the pieces that now began to play; a mixture, really. Some of them were from various J-Pop artists Aoko liked, a few were from anime shows, a couple had come from Western groups ('Acoustic Alchemy' was one he was going to have to check into in the future, not to mention 'Battlefield Band.') All of it was liquid, beautiful… the kind of music you would want to listen to in a garden under the stars.

People were starting to dance all around them. Kaito smiled at his friend's face, feeling amazingly giddy inside. "Happy Birthday, Aoko," he said softly. She just stared at him as if she had never seen him before, then hesitantly took a step or two forward.

Somewhat to her surprise, the boy she had known all her life (and who she obviously thought was going to ask her to dance) stepped back and away. "Meet me on the roof later, huh?" he said, a silly grin filling his face--

And then he was gone, back and out through the crowd like a shadow, and Aoko found herself being clamored at by several other of her classmates to dance.

*

Outside Aoko's house, any number of her neighbors were disturbed by a wild, triumphant shout: "YEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAH!" Several reported later that they had seen a figure doing handsprings across her small yard, but it was late and the dark did tend to play tricks on people's eyes.

*

A happy Kaito is a scary, scary thing.

He had bounced his way through the rest of the party (which he knew would be lasting into the wee hours, possibly even until dawn; it was Aoko's eighteenth, after all.) Odd things had happened in his near vicinity, sometimes without his even being aware of them-- the occasional dropped drink had quite improbably landed right-side-up rather than all over people's legs; cigarettes had gone out repeatedly, unable to be relit (Kaito hated smoking), and his particular favorites kept popping up over and over on the CD player's supposedly-random selection; a rather manic-looking smileyface had also showed up among the constellations being projected all over the walls and ceiling of the main room, too.

If anybody had asked him about any of this he would have simply shrugged an innocent shrug and blinked guileless blue eyes in their direction; this, of course, would have only confirmed their suspicions and increased his reputation as a magician. (He might, however, have scratched his head and wondered later on about poltergeist activity.)

(The truth was, as with any good trick, a secret; but a serious study concerning Kuroba Kaito's body's personal magnetic fields might have shown some interesting and somewhat disturbing results.)

Of course, there were also the deliberate pranks and practical jokes--

He had let the doves go home after their first few appearances from people's clothing, drinks, et cetera… Aoko's new little hellion had suddenly leaped out of nowhere in a bird-bound trajectory (fortunately missing), and he hadn't wanted to risk the poor things anymore. Spot had perched on top of the highest bookcase for a while after that, visibly sulking and occasionally chewing on the single tailfeather he had managed to snatch; if looks could kill...

Peculiar cards found their way into the poker game going on in the kitchen-- Kaito's classmate Takeshi found himself staring bemusedly at five Aces, none of which belonged in the deck they had started out with. All of the Jacks were making rude gestures, the one and only Queen wasn't wearing much of anything at ALL and the Kings suddenly seemed to bear a striking resemblance to Jackie Chan; as one, the poker players all turned to stare accusingly at Kaito (who chuckled and stood up, cheerfully relinquishing his seat at the game to an onlooker.) As he walked out, several cards suddenly went POOF! and turned into brief bursts of blue flame; the poker players looked glumly at each other's somewhat smoky faces, then shrugged and pulled out a fresh deck. After all, they should've known better; it was Kuroba-kun.

Time passed; drinks were drank, consumables were consumed, and a Kitten From Hell finally went to sleep in the middle of the snacks table, snores occasionally interspersed with audible burps. Kaito wandered from room to room, carefully avoiding seeing a certain person (he wasn't altogether sure why, but it just seemed appropriate-- and if he could avoid the cops, he could damn well elude Aoko. Probably. Maybe.) It was really late now, or early depending on how you looked at it, since the clock had just clicked past four-thirty a.m. The young magician yawned, snagging a handful of chips that Spot had managed to miss; from his vantage point in one of the small side-rooms he could just barely see Aoko from here-- she was perched sideways on the arm of her couch in the next room. It gratified Kaito no end to see one of his luminous roses stuck rather haphazardly in her hair.

He sighed happily and plopped down on a floor-cushion, stretching and leaning back against the room's sole overstuffed chair and bumping against the occupant's leg. Said occupant made no objection; muted snores gave evidence that at least one of the partygoers had finally succumbed to either alcohol or weariness, and Kaito craned his neck around to peer up through the shadows. The lights were still down, and it was hard to make the sleeper out at first... they seemed to be blonde, though, and wearing a sort of preppy-looking sweater--

Oh. It was… It was Hakuba Saguru. Kaito felt his eyes widen and a huge grin steal across his face; this was just too, TOO good a chance to pass up-- He closed his eyes briefly, almost feeling a lump in his throat. Oyaji, wherever you are right now, thank you if you had a hand in this. I'd feel like I was betraying your memory if I let an opportunity like this one go by.

Now, let's see… Which pocket did I put that luminous stuff in?

Sometime later, a groggy Hakuba Saguru said his goodbyes to Aoko; if he had been a little more conscious he might have paid attention to the whispered comments and muffled giggles that trailed in his wake as he moved through the dimly-lit rooms. Aoko's eyes had widened as he approached, certainly; she had seemed somewhere between taken aback and nearly overcome with some strong emotion as she stammered a goodnight in reply. The weary blonde detective plodded out the door without a second thought, heading for home and a strong cup of tea.

From his vantage point on the ridge of Aoko's steeply-slanted rooftop, Kaito watched him go with an admiring smile for his own handiwork; the glowing hearts and kiss-marks he had marked the blonde's face with while he dozed really suited him somehow-they just added a certain… charm. Heh; that'll teach HIM to fall asleep anywhere near me-- next time I'll have to think of something special to do to his hair as well. Spikes, maybe? He sat back on the roof, pocketing his camera and pondering just how much Hakuba would've forked over for the negatives, had they been for sale.

"Very nice, Kaito-kun; very nice indeed." The voice came from below, sultry and rather deep for a young woman's. He sighed internally; Akako. Wondered where she was... probably pulling the wings off flies somewhere. He leaned over a bit, just enough to see off the edge of the roof. Mmph? Where-?

A footstep sounded behind him on the wood shingles (and oh, he hated hated hated how Akako could sneak up on him! That should not be possible.) Oh. Great. I'm waiting up here for Aoko, and instead I get the Wicked Witch of the West, only without the Flying Monkeys. Resignedly he twisted around a little on his narrow perch, sitting back crosslegged with his hands draped over his knees. "Ohayou, Akako-kun."

"Konbanha, Kaito-kun. It's still dark." Her white teeth gleamed in the pre-dawn shadows as she smiled at him; he grunted noncommittally in answer, and she walked a few steps daintily across the roof's narrow ridge in her high-heeled pumps to pause perhaps a little too close to her intended target. Koizumi Akako loomed over him, just a bit-- but then, Akako seemed to like looming over people.

She had looked pretty good tonight, he had to admit; her black and rather alarmingly low-cut dress clung tightly to her figure in all the right (wrong?) places, revealing what could be safely revealed and giving strong hints and nudges regarding the rest. The skirt was amazingly tight and short, and if the outfit had been any skimpier Akako would quite possibly earned the dubious distinction of wearing a Gownless Evening Strap.

And for some reason unknown even to him, she left him totally cold.  Kaito could admire, could even appreciate; but there was no attraction whatsoever-- instead, he found himself wondering just how Aoko would look in a dress like that, her hair all loose down her bare back and with a furious blush creeping across her face...

Eeep! Down, boy.

Dragging his mind back to business with some reluctance, he took a deep breath of the cool, clear air. "What can I do for you, Akako-kun?" he asked, feeling a portion of his Kid poker-face sliding into place.

The dark-haired young woman continued to smile down at him, hands on hips. "Now, just how should I answer that? So many possibilities..." (Kaito felt a bead of sweat run down his neck.) "But actually, I thought I'd just drop a word of warning or two in your ear." She sighed, glancing away and across the darkened neighborhood; very few lights were on this early--

--they might have been the only people awake in the entire world.  It made Kaito shiver.

"Warning?  About what?"  The young man tried not to sound too concerned… or ungrateful. She's been right in the past, I have to admit; that time with the Clock Tower comes to mind in particular. No idea why she keeps telling me stuff like this, not really… she creeps me the hell out when she goes all Occult and everything.

Akako shrugged slightly, managing to turn the prosaic movement into something syncopated and complex. "You might want to take a little extra care during your next few, ah, 'ventures'... This time of year usually favors those who move through the dark, but-- I have a feeling your luck just might be lacking a little something right now." She raised one fine brow critically. "We wouldn't want to see ourselves listed in the headlines under "Unmasked At Last", now, would we?"

Kaito also shrugged (much more offhandedly). "No idea what you're talking about, Akako-kun, but I'll take the warning as given. Any clues as to why my luck would be out? I haven't walked under any ladders lately, haven't broken any mirrors, and I've stayed away from black cats… up until now, that is." He shot her a sideways glance, barely managing to make it a faint smile at the last second. MAN, she's spooky when she gets like this.

Fortunately the young woman seemed to take the comparison as a compliment; she preened slightly, tossing her long hair over one bare shoulder. "Ah well... luck's an odd thing; one can only do so much with it-- I've never really trusted luck myself. But perhaps you've been lending it out lately?" The eyebrow raised a little higher at his perplexed scowl. "Some people have a surplus of luck, while others have only the tiniest motes… I've noticed that one can wish it to another's keeping, trade it, parcel it out drop by drop, even corrupt it; where have your concerns been lying, Kaito-kun?"

The young man on the roof-ridge shook his head irritably; "You ask the weirdest damned questions sometimes... What's wrong, doesn't your crystal ball tell you everything I say and do?" His question was only half-sarcastic. "Maybe you'd better go talk to all the rest of the black cats in the neighborhood, or to that little white fiend that Aoko's taken under her wing--"

The dark-haired woman actually shuddered, though her face did not change. "That is not a normal cat. A little youkai in its ancestry, perhaps, or a shapeshifter or two... and by the way, crystal balls are considered quite passé these days." She sniffed.

Koizumi Akako tilted her head to one side then a little, a faintly puzzled expression replacing her usual sultriness. "It's rather odd-- I can't quite make it out-- there's something in the way of what I'm seeing... And so very few things can cloud my perception: extreme evil, extreme good, slyness, innocence... Who have you been dealing with lately, Kaito-kun?"

Innocence... For some reason he thought briefly of Ayumi. The young magician shrugged for the third time in their conversation; it seemed to be a good way to respond to so many of Akako's questions. "Thanks for the warning; I'll make sure to look both ways when I cross the street today--"

"Not just today. This week-- not just today." Her tone held an odd note to it that made him look up; was that anxiety he heard there? Concern? Her expression hadn't changed, it was still a little puzzled, perhaps a bit annoyed... it was rather odd to see something other than seductive friendliness on those delicate features.

"All right…. Uh, and thanks again...? I'll keep my eyes open." He frowned up at her, not bothering to hide his curiosity. "Why do you even care? I mean, not to be rude, but-- frankly, Akako, you're not gonna get anywhere with me. If you haven't figured out that by now..."

"Oh, I've figured it out; I'm no idiot. And I certainly have better things to do than trouble myself over you, my dear Kaito-kun…" Her voice lingered over his name, the tones oddly caressing, oddly chilling; he shivered again. "But as to why I care--? We all have our hobbies. And perhaps..." She turned away from him, walking towards the other side of the roof.

"...perhaps I just like you best in white... Kaito-kun."

Her rich chuckle drifted to him on the early breeze, and then the sound of her footsteps stopped; when he stood up to look, she had disappeared.

* * *

The last stragglers had left, and the house beneath him had grown silent at last. The young man on the roof listened to the progress of the building's sole inhabitant (well, if you didn't count Spot, the Kitten From Hell) making her way from room to room; the soft pad of her feet would have been quite inaudible to anyone else. But a Phantom Thief has to learn all sorts of odd skills, and he knew every creak, squeak and click of Aoko's house-sounds; after all, he'd had to practice somewhere.

They had met on her rooftop before-- often, really, when they were kids. There was this pine tree next to the house that made an excellent ladder, if you were careful. So at last, just as the first gray glow of false dawn began to make everything dim and shadowy, when he heard the scrabble of feet on the balcony ledge behind him and fingers on the roof-edge, Kaito didn't bother to turn around. After the first few fumbling ascents, their childhood selves had carefully nailed a length of knotted rope trailing down from the ridge; it was an easy climb. Besides, Aoko'd have his hide if he acted even remotely like he didn't think she could make it up on her own.

She said nothing as she came up behind him, carefully making her way across the narrow ridge; the magician smiled a little to himself as her soft movements told him that she had changed from her dress. That sound was the rasp of denim against denim, and that one the faint rasp of a sock snagging on a roof-shingle; hence, jeans again. Good. Not that he didn't appreciate the dress, but...

...jeans were more Aoko to him.

She sat down carefully behind him, only a foot or so back where one of the vent-pipes made a handy backrest; uncharacteristically quiet, the dim light gave little of Aoko's expression away as Kaito turned, shifting so that his legs hung down the slant of the roof beside hers. "Thanks... for the trick and all… The roses were really nice," she said, and the note of shyness in Aoko's voice made him nervous; Aoko, shy?

That's stupid; she's never shy. But… I guess things are a little different now, aren't they? In an effort to diffuse the sharp angles of his nerves he grinned at her through the gray dawn. "Glad you liked it… Bet Saguru-chan didn't like his trick half as well--"

As expected, she broke into a scowl and her eyes flashed; a few of his spikier nerve-endings smoothed out at that. "Kaitooo... You should NOT have done that to poor Hakuba-kun!" and he reflected that if there had been a mop handy, that would've been it for him. Speaking of which-- He fumbled in one pocket for his second gift, one he had only found the previous day.

"Wanna see another trick?"

She eyed him suspiciously, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Well…."

He beamed at her, all sparkling eyes and grin. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand, palm up…. Oh, c'mon, I promise I won't give you a-- a live squid again, or anything like that. No frogs, insects, worms or any other type of wildlife."

The young woman smirked at him. "Not even a... fish?"

Kaito shuddered. "DEFINITELY not."

Aoko hesitated; then, with the slightly wary trust he was used to, she did as he requested. A moment later she blinked at the small object that lay glittering in her hand: a tiny silver pin, no more than three centimeters or so long. The craftsman had done their work well, although she couldn't imagine what had made them make a...

..."It's a mop," she said wonderingly, turning the delicate thing over in her fingers. "WHERE did you find a-- a mop pin?"

Kaito was watching her with his head tilted a little to one side, that curious little smile of his (the one he got when he was happy and couldn't bring himself to let it out) present. "Oh, in some little shop... I don't really remember. Do-- you like it?"

The girl couldn't help it; her face broke into a grin as wide as any of his. "Mm-hm..." She fastened it onto her sweatshirt with careful fingers. "Now I'll never be without my mop, so you'd better just watch it, Kaito-kun. One false move and you're DOOMED." A bubble of happiness seemed to be swelling up inside of her, despite her threatening words. The Inspector's daughter crossed her sock-clad ankles happily, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the cloudy sky overhead. "This has been the best birthday yet."

Silence then for a few minutes, the companionable silence between two people who understand that quiet can have its own lyrics and tempo-- two people who have the tune memorized and recognize the same beat. It was so very calm, so still--

--they might have been the only people awake in the entire world.  It made Kaito smile.

The sky was getting a little brighter now, and the wind was beginning to rise with the sun. Aoko's dark hair drifted back from her face, more than a little disheveled-- her careful makeup from the night before was a bit smeared, and (to Kaito's rather remarkable nose) she could probably use a quick shower.

And they still had to go to school today... oh joy; he knew he should head home. One last thing, though…

She was watching him sideways, that fiery, half-mischievous half-wary gleam in her eyes again; she always made him think of fireworks when she looked like that. Dangerous, definitely-- beautiful, absolutely... quick to dissipate and change shape, and you never knew if they were going to do what you expected them to do or blow up in your face and make you really, REALLY sorry.

That was half the challenge and a hell of a lot of the fun, if you asked Kuroba Kaito.

He smiled a little back, watching the first red-golden rays creeping past the grayness of false dawn; the thin beams of light outlined things gently, smoothing the rooftops with a touch that was as yet still cool and chaste but which would warm and become more certain with experience, quick as any safecracker's. There was just enough light to see by… The magician fished yet again in his capacious pockets. "Um, Aoko? Want to see how your pin looks on you? Here--" What he passed her was (to her evident amusement) a woman's compact mirror; what she didn't know was how often he used that sort of thing to see around corners when he was Kid. She opened it with a dubious look... and then stopped short at what lay inside.

Kaito held his breath.

The wreath of four-leaf-clovers shone molten in the early light as the sun's rays traced it like curious fingers; Aoko slowly hooked one finger beneath the chain, lifting it up so the pendant could spin gently before her eyes. "Kai… Kaito?"

He could feel the blood burning in his cheeks. C'mon, Kuroba, you're an international jewel-thief, adored by millions (well, thousands maybe) and wanted in a number of countries (considering that they don't know you're not Oyaji.) You can handle this; you're intelligent, you're clever, you're--

…she's looking at me…

...you're a hopeless romantic and utterly brain-dead, and now you're in deep trouble because you just did an irrevocable thing. You Changed the Rules.

She was looking at him, and with an oddly indecipherable expression. "Kaito? Is this really for me?"

Nod nod. He felt like an idiot. Oh jeeze, Aoko, please don't just toss it off the roof--

She was still just looking at him, as if making up her mind. Those eyes of hers, they weren't full of the usual fire... no, right now they were more like... banked coals, glimmering in the depths of a fireplace. Sparks and stars...

This was why he had risked Changing the Rules: going from the safe familiarity of Kaito-kun-and-Aoko-kun to simply Kaito and Aoko, just two more people in the world who might actually want to be with each other. That wonderful fire inside her, the same fire that made her angry and happy and fierce-- it burned a person if they got too close, sure enough; but sometimes burning was worth it.

Burning... the sun was almost half-way up; Aoko...?

She moved then, and his heart sank into his socks as she gently placed the necklace and compact in his nerveless hands and turned her back on him, shifting slightly so she faced away. "Um... Aoko? Are you-- mad at me? I just sort of thought that... I mean, I thought…" His heart fell flat in his chest when she didn't turn back. "I'm screwed, aren't I? I just messed things up royally. I... if I hurt your feelings or, or embarrassed you, I'm sorry… I… am… an idiot, I guess. I just wanted to give you… something different. Something that was… sort of special… and I guess I'm… I, uh... well, shit."

Still she faced away. But now Aoko seemed to be making some sort of sound, a sharp indrawing of breath that was somehow a little broken, a little staggered, a little unsteady… Oh man, she's not… she's not CRYING, is she? You screwed up goddamn big this time, you ass... Then her breath caught again; she choked-- and he realized she was laughing.

Laughing? At… at ME? Or-- uhhh… Kaito's synapse seemed to have fused; he simply hadn't a clue why the hell she should be laughing.

"You… you think you hurt my feelings by giving me this?" Aoko's words were as unsteady with laughter as her breathing had been a moment before. "You think you, you screwed up? Kaito--" Her voice broke for a moment, and he saw her raise one hand as if to wipe away tears. "You ARE an idiot, you know? Stupid, stupid-- idiot."

"......"  If the whole rooftop had erupted suddenly in cops screaming Kaitou Kid, Put Your Hands Up! he couldn't have moved. All he could think was I didn't? I didn't screw it up? I DIDN'T screw it up? I REALLY didn't screw it up? as she glanced back over one shoulder.

Aoko's eyes were full of that fire again, but softer now despite the redness of her cheeks. She was smiling-- no, she was still laughing a little, and with both hands she reached behind her head to lift her thick mass of hair away from her neck.

"So… stop being an idiot and put it on me, okay?"

A magician's hands were always steady; but for some reason Kaito almost couldn't get the clasp closed. He managed, though, and beneath his hands her skin was very warm; against her skin his fingers were very gentle.

And then she simply leaned back against him, still facing away but comfortable and relaxed. And he sat where he was on the very end of the ridgepole, watching the sun rise with Aoko, happier than he could ever remember being in his entire life.

* * * * *

NOTE:  Much of the first few chapters will be seen through a child's eyes (Ayumi's) and so will be a lot gentler than what happens later; the 'graphic depictions of violence' warning is there for a reason, but 'graphic' doesn't have to mean 'gratuitous.'  Just thought I'd say.

Chapter Text

Tuesday:

Inspector Nakamori Ginzo stared, outraged, at the carefully-written card that lay on his desk. It had been there when he had arrived for work, tucked neatly inside an interoffice-mail envelope (complete with the station's official mail-stamp.) And all he could think was, How the HELL did he manage to-- how-- AAAGH!!!

Lacus, palus, mare and rile, seen whole and unhidden;
Even Time will bow before the princess when she is present.
The Sun shall hide his face before her beauty
As she ascends to Heaven upon angel's wings.

          Ohayo!  Hope you like the ridde, Inspector;
I'll be seeing you soon!
                                                          KAITOU KID

A faint sploosh! marked the demise of his morning cup of coffee as his fingers contracted around the Styrofoam; the hot liquid rained down unnoticed through Nakamori's fist and onto his pants-leg as he began, softly at first, to swear.

Well, it started out softly...

Outside his office, several aids and officers paused in the hall and exchanged worried, knowing glances; a new secretary was stopped by one of her co-workers and prevented from knocking on the Inspector's door before the first echoes of his rising tirade had bounced off the walls.

… and downstairs, a certain mail-clerk who looked oddly familiar but not quite recognizable to the other workers (but hey, they were really busy in the morning, and office personnel changed all the time, you know?) chuckled to himself at the sound of Nakamori's shouts as he slipped away to his favorite window-exit. Whistling the closing theme from LUPIN III, the young man headed out-- he didn't want to be late for school, after all.

It'd be nice to have at least one quiet, normal day; someone ought to.

* * *

Wednesday:

It was a the middle of the week, and the usual river of kids were streaming in through Teitan Elementary's gates like so many backpack-laden lemmings, most of them chattering at the top of their lungs. Genta and Mitsuhiko were deeply involved in a philosophical discussion:

"JACKIE CHAN!"

"BRUCE LEE!"

"JACKIE CHAN, you baka! He's a lot better than any old--"

"NO he's not! Bruce Lee could knock him into--"

"He could not! JACKIE CHAN'S the best!"

"No way! BRUCE LEE!!!"

…and so forth. They had Opinions.

Rin, walking a little ways back behind the two philosophers with Conan, Ai and Ayumi, rolled her eyes. "Are they ever going to stop arguing about that?" she wondered. "They've been going on and on about it every morning since this weekend..."

Conan shook his head. "That's what we get for going through my video collection. I wonder if they have any idea how old those movies are? Not that they'd care." He winced; the debate was just now reaching Stage Two, in which specific details were posed as logical, reasonable arguments;

"You don't know what you're talking about! In Shaolin Wooden Men he threw this--"

"Stuuuupid! In Return of the Dragon , Bruce Lee went up against this bunch of--"

"--baka! When Jackie was in Snake In Eagle's Shadow he did this cat sort of stuff, and he was just--"

"--and then he did these flying kicks, and the bad guys were--"

"--but they got squashed because he's so COOL, and then he--"

"--so he kicked all his enemies' butts BIG time in The Chinese Connection with these nunchakus--"

Ayumi shrugged, shimmying her backpack more comfortably into place between her shoulderblades. "Boys can be awfully dumb." Conan opened his mouth, looking indignant; then he sighed, realizing just how effectively he was outnumbered (since Genta and Mitsuhiko were currently acting as object lessons in Ayumi's theory on male intellectual levels.)

Thanks, guys... The boy shoved his glasses back into place from where they had slid down his nose; he glanced up at the sky and frowned just a little. Clouds were beginning to slowly make their way across the heavens, clumping and gathering like bales of dirty wool. So much for Recess. He chuckled a little wryly to himself at the thought of playground-time meaning so much to somebody who should've been out looking at universities and cram schools (if things had been normal, which of course they were not), but you took what you could get.

He squinted at the aforementioned clouds; they didn't look too bad... not bad enough to make him change his after-school plans, anyway. And rain would actually make things work out even better, so long as it didn't fall too heavily.

Conan had things to do after school today. So long as a certain thief cooperated.

Memories of the tail-end of his discussion with Ayumi from a few days before ran through his mind, interspersed with calculations and decisions...

"Ayumi? I know you meet this 'Hei-san' on Friday afternoons-- don't look at me like that, I'd be a pretty poor detective if I hadn't figured out you had a good reason for meeting us at the park every Friday and not just walking there with us-- Are you supposed to meet with him this Friday too?"

"I…. no, he said he was gonna be sort of busy; he said that if I wanted to practice, we could meet next Wednesday afternoon instead... But I can't; 'cause Kaasan's going to pick me up from school to go to the dentist. I forgot all about that--!"

"Ayumi-kun… listen. Could I meet him for you? It's okay-- he needs to know that I know about him, right? And no, I don't think he'll be mad at all; I promise I'll make sure he knows you told me his name by accident. Please?... I won't go unless you say I can. But-- please?"

"…okay. But you HAVE to make sure he knows I didn't- didn't tell on him on purpose."

"I promise. Um… One more thing (sigh); can I-- borrow your umbrella, Ayumi-kun? The red one?"

"My WHAT?" His friend had stared at Conan for a few seconds before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

The boy grinned to himself, a small, cocky grin that Ran would have recognized and worried over; that should work... He could feel the small weight of the little girl's umbrella in his backpack-- it was an old one from when she was much smaller, kept for sentimental reasons; Ayumi had been teased about it more than once, but defiantly still used it on rainy days. His grin faded considerably as he thought about just why she had giggled when he had asked to borrow it… he was going to look pretty damned stupid with a kiddy umbrella of that type--

The things I do for my friends… Trading the rest of the grin for a momentary fit of the sulks, Conan/Shinichi sent an entirely mental one-finger-salute in Kaitou Kid's direction; This had better be worth the trouble, dammit. And if you ARE planning on making problems for me or Ran or Ayumi, I'm going to put a sleeping dart right between your--

"Conan-kun?"

--eyes. "Hm? What?" Ayumi was tugging on his elbow.

She looked a little worried; as they entered the main building, she leaned over to whisper. "Does-- have you talked to Haibara-san yet? About me finding out, I mean--?"

He glanced back involuntarily at the blonde girl, who had dropped a little ways behind them; the calm, rather expressionless face of the former scientist was looking a little paler than usual today-- not exactly a surprise, all things considered. "Yeah… I did. Last night." It had not, admittedly, been pretty; for once, Ai had lost the composure she had managed to keep after her first realization up at the Mouris' and had actually shouted at him angrily (although, thinking back, he had to admit that the anger had held a strong note of panic as well.) The worst thing about the whole conversation was that he had no excuse, not really-- he HAD been clumsy, too many mistakes had been made, and someone who should never had been able to figure things out had done a remarkably fine job of doing just that.

(...with help from her goddamn juggling-teacher. Maybe I will dart Kid if I get the chance. --no, no, bad detective; stop that.)

Conan knew Ai liked Ayumi-kun; the somewhat chilly young woman/young girl had managed to thaw more than a bit around the edges here and there, mostly due to Ayumi's determined air of friendship. Sometimes she didn't seem to quite know how to handle the little girl's puppy-like playfulness (he hadn't missed the way 'Haibara-san' had been gradually becoming 'Ai-kun'), which led him to believe that she had quite possibly never had any friends as a child.

Well, that had changed, at least.

Ayumi-kun was still looking troubled; as they changed their shoes for school-scuffs, she ducked her head mournfully and asked, "Is she... mad at me?" Beside her, Rin glanced up and met Conan's eyes with her own.

The boy shuffled into his own scuffs; from the corner of his eye he could see the blonde's stiff back heading down the hall towards their classroom. "Not mad, no-- she's just a little insecure." He hesitated, keeping his voice down (although that was hardly necessary, considering that Genta and Mitsuhiko had moved into Stage Three of the Great Debate at this point: quoting lines from their new favorite movies.) "You have to understand… she's been through a lot, Ayumi-kun. She lost her home, people she cared about, everything she knew-all because of… well, you know who." Conan gave her a warning look.

"But… you did too," she pointed out, her small face creasing in confusion. "You had to go and live with Ran-neechan--" and she glanced at Rin, a quick flicker of widened eyes, "--and you couldn't go to school with your friends anymore, or even wear your own clothes--"

At that he laughed. "Not exactly… remember that sort of stupid-looking jacket I wore a lot at first? The blue one? That was mine when I was a kid the first time around," he explained. "It fit me again-- I got it from my old house, so that's what I wore. I guess it sort of made me feel a little more like myself, you know?" He could hear Rin repressing a gurgle of laughter.

Ayumi blinked, then wrinkled her nose. "It was really dorky, actually… so's your bow-tie, but we all got used to that." she informed him straightforwardly. The other girl lost the battle against her laughter at this point.

"I know, I know," he sighed, picking up his backpack. Over Rin's giggling he did his somewhat red-faced best to change the subject. "Now, about Ai--?" They walked into the classroom; Haibara was over to one side of the class, listening silently as the teacher spoke to her with a slightly harassed expression (Conan shuddered at the thought of having to deal with the former scientist as a student; sometimes just having her as a classmate was no picnic.) "She wants to talk to you, I think."

The child hesitated; then, the look that Conan had become so familiar with over the past year settled in, raising her chin and squaring her jaw. "That's good, because I want to talk to her too. She's my friend… and I have a present for her anyway; I'll do it at Recess." Catching up the strap of her backpack in one hand, she smiled at them both a little tentatively, a little unsure.

"Conankun? Rin-kun? Is it-- easier or harder, being a kid again? I mean, was it easier the first time? I always thought that grownups were so much smarter than little kids... and you are really, really smart, but you still worry about stuff and get things wrong sometimes, sooooo... Is it easier? or harder?" She tilted her head inquisitively, dark eyes curious.

Conan looked at Rin-- Rin looked at Conan; then they both looked at Ayumi and shrugged. Rin was the first to speak. "Easier…? In some ways, a few things are easier; like… well, schoolwork is, I guess... and you don't have to pay for things much anymore; that's kind of nice. People do treat you differently when you're a kid;” she nibbled her lip meditatively for a moment. “You know, I never thought that much about it before, but when you're small they either pay a lot of attention to you or none at all--"

Ayumi looked puzzled; she hadn't noticed, actually. Her friend went on as they sat down in their desks, her eyes reflective: "It's easier in some ways because you don't worry about certain things that are important when you're older-what people think of you, for instance… the older you get, the more that matters. It's kind of funny, but you don't realize how much it matters until you don't have to care about it any more.”

The boy settling into the desk beside her paused as he slid his backpack off. "You always were a clotheshorse, you and Sonoko; get you two anywhere near a store and the best thing a guy could do was run for his life--"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Complain, complain, complain; we only dragged you along a few times… and we hardly ever made you try on stuff. Later on, after you, um, started wearing a smaller size… I guess it happened a little more often then, maybe--"

Conan slid his pack into place on the back of his chair with a whump and a mock-sulky look. "--'More often'…? Try every time you went and you'll get it right. It was twice as bad, too… at least before I never had to go with you when you bought underwear--"

"…..eep!"

Blushing, Rin attempted to thwack him on the top of the head with her knuckles; laughing, he dodged, then leaned back with his hands linked behind his head. "You're still a clotheshorse… I saw all that stuff you and Sonoko brought home last weekend; I think she's enjoying dressing you up, just like a living doll. 'Try this on, Ran-chan, you'll look so cute!'"

Rin's blush deepened a little; she flicked back a strand of hair from her face and her smile forced a reluctant giggle out from hiding. That shopping trip had been a bit excessive, and she had rather enjoyed trying everything on and then displaying each outfit in an impromptu living room fashion-show later, much to Sonoko's delight. "Well, we both saw you watching me from the hallway when I was showing off my new clothes to Okaasan; you didn't seem too put-upon then."

Now HE blushed, muttering something indistinct; a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey!"

They each jumped a little; Ayumi was frowning severely at them both from her seat, hands on her hips. "If you two're going to do boyfriend-girlfriend talk like a pair of grownups I'm going to go to take a nap, 'cause it's booooring." She leaned her head on one elbow, closed her eyes and made mock-snoring noises. Her classmates eyed her with surprise, then shrugged a small shrug at each other.

Ayumi cracked open one eye, giggling a little at their expressions. "You told me about the 'easier' stuff; is being a kid again harder too?"

This time Conan answered, running one hand through his hair as his blush faded. "Harder… I don't even know where to start. You can't use your own name-- you have to get used to a new one. You can't wear your old clothes, have to get used to being half as tall as you were and a lot lighter and weaker… You have to learn all sorts of new rules, too, the ones you missed recognizing the first time around: that grownups really don't pay much attention, that you're more likely to be disbelieved than believed just for being a kid, that anybody below elbow-level is suddenly a second-class citizen--" (Ayumi opened her mouth to ask what that was, then decided to ask later.) "But… the worst bit..." he hesitated, and both of the listeners eyed him with varying degrees of concern as Conan's eyes darkened with Kudo Shinichi's remembered terror and regret.

--the worst-- Waking up and realizing what had happened to me, being lost that way and not knowing if there would EVER be a way home-- Waiting for Them to come and find me, waiting to die all over again, this time with company and for good--

"Conan…" Rin's eyes were very gentle as she touched his sleeve with one small hand; for the barest second another face seemed to take the place of her child's countenance: older, the image of a young woman who was now nothing more than the ghost of shared memories. Her expression was concerned as well, and the look in both pairs of eyes helped immeasurably as he pushed away the old pain of loss.

The boy sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind, Ayumi; sometime later, maybe." Or never; how about never? That sort of thing wasn't for a child to hear-- not the loneliness, not the absolute fear he had had to deal with for so many months upon waking each morning: that somehow he had slipped up, that the Black Organization had found him and would kill everyone connected to both one Kudo Shinichi and Edogawa Conan.

No, none of that was for Ayumi's ears; he had nightmares enough for them both. Besides, he added quietly in his mind, It's better now. No, the Black Org hasn't gone away, yes, I'm still a kid, and no, they haven't paid yet for all the evil they've done. Yet. But I'm not alone anymore, selfish as I am to be happy about that. It's not so bad now.

He forced a grin, waving away Ayumi's worried look; the kid had enough to think about right now anyway. "The absolute worst? Well..." There was a pregnant pause as both girls waited; he shrugged once, rather nonchalantly. "There are the school lunches… and having to deal with the Video Twins back there, too, that can be a pain--" He stuck a thumb in the direction of Genta and Mitsuhiko, who were only now noisily plopping down into their desks.

The two boys (having caught the last sentence) looked indignant, breaking off the Great Kung-Fu Debate to swivel their stares towards Conan. Each one opened his mouth in rebuttal:

"Huh? Just because we--"

"Hey! We're--"

…but a "Hmph!" from Ayumi-kun stopped them both in their tracks. "I don't know why you're arguing so much, anyway; Jet Li's MUCH cooler than Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee." She tossed her head a little and grinned at a startled Conan and Rin, then turned towards their somewhat harried-looking teacher; case closed.

Mitsuhiko and Genta each hesitated; then, as one, they shrugged in either agreement or surrender and fell silent as their day officially began.

*

Sitting a little to one side, Ai spared the rest of her small collection of friends a silent glance as the teacher began to speak; her usually calm gaze rested for a long moment on Ayumi's profile as the child bent over her paper, analyzing and calculating. If anyone had been observing closely, though, they just might have thought they had seen the faintest shadow of fear in that quiet, measuring look--

--Of course they would have been wrong; and Ai would have been the first to tell them so, too. In detail.

*

When it rained during Recess, the children tended to do one of two things: they either loitered beneath the school walkways and overhangs bordering the playground or they took their chances in the weather out of sheer unspent energy and a grim determination not to waste precious non-class time in anything other than play.

Ai tended to read.

She had a favorite spot: a small alcove to one side of the main walkway, a one-person space shaped by the angles between two cement supports and the building's wall. Light rain drummed softly on the roof overhead, its clean scent mixing with the usual smells of playground, wet sidewalks and dead leaves from the trees nearby; normally it would have been soothing.

Normally... The small -scientist frowned in exasperation, attempting to ignore both the shrill chatter of voices and the proximity of the raindrops (not to mention the nagging, incessant unease that crept around the edges of her thoughts, using phrases like Ayumi-Knows or I-Have-To-Do-Something and I-Should-Leave) that kept prodding her attention away from her book.

No good; she couldn't keep her mind on the pages in front of her. Closing the copy of The Origins of Order that she had managed to hide between the gutted covers of Ryo's Big Jungle Adventure, Haibara Ai leaned back with an annoyed sigh to watch her classmates play in the early Autumn rain.

They moved so chaotically, in random dashes through the thin patter of drops, skids and splashes of activity, without apparent motive or pattern like shattered Morse code; but she had learned differently over the past year, was learning more so every day: their patterns had meaning. Ai ran one finger across the cheerful false cover of her book ( False, just like me, her thoughts whispered clearly) and quoted something beneath her breath from the contents within: "'Whenever a collection of chemicals contains enough different kinds of molecules, a metabolism will crystallize.'" The small figures out there in the rain-they were the chemicals and her class was the metabolism, she supposed. Or maybe that was too narrow a definition; Life, that was the metabolism of course… this younger generational subset that she had so unwillingly joined.

Idly she wondered if she would live long enough to see it mature.

A slight shuffling noise on the other side of the right-hand cement support made her grimace in irritation; wonderful. Mitsuhiko-kun, probably, or (if she were lucky) Kudo. Or Rin-- she was finding life somewhat easier to bear since the inclusion of the third adult in their own admittedly peculiar 'subset'; it helped a little, having one more person around who could think at a level beyond Ryo's Big Jungle Adventure.

"Haibara-san?"

NOT Rin or Kudo, then; Ayumi. She noted that the more familiar 'Ai-kun' had shifted back to 'Haibara-san' with faint, somewhat sour amusement; doubtless the child would keep her distance now. The tentative friendship between them was over, then; but that was as it should be, of course… she had more important things to think about than friendship with a preadolescent gradeschooler, no matter how much it had eased things occasionally over the past months.

And no matter how much the child reminded the former Miyano Shiho of her sister at times... Nonsense, all of it; pure useless sentiment.

Wasn't it?

"I've got a present for you."

What…?

THAT wasn't how she had expected this to go-- reserve, yes, uncertainty and even a little fear, yes… but a present? What in the world--? She sat forward a little, craning her head around the cement support as curiously as any… well, as anyone with a good, solid streak of scientific interest; she had not nearly thought "as any child". Of course not.

Ayumi-kun leaning back against the buttress, one arm hugging her notebook to her chest and the other clutching a slightly wrinkled piece of paper; mutely she held it out to the blonde girl, who took it and stared in confusion.

The picture was… of herself, apparently; done in markers or some such, it held a crude rendition of a lab-coated, adult Haibara Ai with a flask in hand. Not too bad a drawing, really, for someone who has never seen me like this; am I supposed to put it up on my refrigerator or something? The other figure was clearly Ayumi; but why was she…?

"It's a… I think you call it a contract," said the little girl quietly. "See-that's you, the way you used to be--" One small and slightly grubby finger tapped the white-coated flask-toting shape as the child twisted around a little. "The other one's me, and I've got my mouth covered up to show I WON'T TELL ANYBODY." The emphasis on the last three words came out iron-clad and determined, accompanied by a scowl that would have done credit to the most cantankerous University professor.

A… contract. A contract? But-- what is the word of a child worth? The gradeschooler who had once been Miyano Shiho felt memories, painful ones, welling up from the cold black depths of her past:

(Two girls, sisters, clinging to each other in the aftermath of their parents' deaths. They knew someone had been arranged to take care of them, but right then that didn't matter. And they had sworn (hadn't they?) to do just that--to take care of each other no matter what; it was all either of them had left.)

Still staring at the drawing, Ai felt her fingers tighten on the paper. Such small, weak fingers. She could do so little with them, felt so futile at times, so damned helpless-- needed so much more than she was willing to allow herself to accept, even the comfort of a little girl's friendship; even that should have been beyond what she should allow herself to take. She hadn't been able to keep her promise to her sister, had she?

"Ai-chan?" So we're back to 'Ai-chan' now… she thought curiously; her eyes seemed to be burning a little, and she rubbed at them in irritation. Why? And why should she be offering this to me? Ai had to know.

"Ayumi-kun? A… contract? Why?"

The little girl fidgeted just a bit, both hands clutching her notebook even tighter now. "Because... you need it to feel better. You like stuff down on paper lots better than just things people say; I guess that's why you read all the time instead of talking." (Ai blinked at this rather interesting insight.) "So I made a contract. I was listening to my Kaasan on the phone and she was talking about contracts at work and so I asked her and she told me about them."

See?" Ayumi pointed at the paper again, her eyes growing a little impatient at the other's apparent obtuseness. "This is you, all grown up-- and this is me, NOT TALKING TO ANYBODY about you being all grown up. And now..." She pulled herself up to her knees, fishing around inside her notebook for something; a green marker came out, and with great care the child wrote her name at the bottom of the page.

"Now you sign it. That'll make it a real contract." She held out the marker.

But… but…

Moments later Haibara Ai stared down at her own neat calligraphy, a scientist's careful notation without even the faintest tinge of the gradeschooler about it. She was rather bemused to see that she had actually written 'HAIBARA AI / MIYANO SHIHO', just as if the first name wasn't as false as her appearance.

Just as if she were both persons, not just the latter masquerading beneath the mask of the former. Am I? Someday I'll be publishing papers under that name. If I live.

...but… I...

Ayumi nodded, a look of relief on that absurdly young face (had she ever looked that young, the first time around?) The little girl folded the paper and tucked it carefully inside Ai's own book like a bookmark. "Good. You keep that; now you know I won't tell anybody, 'cause you've got a contract. It's sort of like a pinky-swear, only better, right, because our names are on it? Right!" She nodded firmly, pleased. "And now you don't have to worry anymore, and we can stay friends."

The child looked so much like Shiho's sister just then.

"C'mon!"

...and, still more than two-thirds stunned, she found herself being tugged to her feet and out into the light rain. "Ai-kun's 'IT'!" bellowed Genta from where he sprawled half on top of Mitsuhiko, half in the mud; shrieking, the rest of her classmates took off in all directions like charged electrons. She stood there, water dripping from her bangs, not quite sure of what to do or why she suddenly felt so shaky inside; and a few feet away Ayumi turned back to look at her with an unexpectedly sympathetic grin.

"It's okay, Ai-chan; you can play now."

Behind her she could hear Conan and Rin's surprised murmurs; no doubt they were wondering why she was standing out there like a fool, getting wet. Well, she was wondering too; but somehow (just this once) she didn't care. Besides, acting like one more molecule among many was good camouflage, correct?

Of course it was; her heart seemed to lighten oddly and Haibara Ai set off after the nearest of her classmates at a dead run (and a very accurate trajectory, to boot.) Later, Conan would swear he had heard her laughing.

*

Wednesday afternoon now; school was out, the rain was still falling softly, and the river of children was streaming homeward. It was an odd river, composed mostly of bubbles: tall bubbles, short bubbles, printed bubbles, plain bubbles, plastic or oiled silk or nylon, ribbed and seamed and bobbing like floats in a current. A watcher from above would have eventually identified the bubbles as umbrellas.

One bubble-- that is, one umbrella pulled aside from a cluster of similarly small ones, heading northwards down a sidestreet; a second umbrella (dark blue, with a flower motif) accompanied it for a few minutes, then hurried back to the straggling clump that was still making its way downstream. Rain drizzled quietly from above, and all the afternoon air was gray and soft.

The umbrella was a small one, carried by an equally small, slight figure; tennishoes splashed through the rain and dead leaves at the margin of the park, sending thin arcs of spray to scatter across the ground from the soaked laces as they swung. The footsteps were solid, sturdy and light on the sodden grass; they seemed to know exactly where they were going.

And up a certain tree, halfway across the park...

... sixteen… seventeen… eighteen, whups, almost lost 'em… nineteen… twenty… twenty-one…

Hei-san was playing with cards again. This wasn't exactly unusual; he shuffled, dealt, flipped, fanned, and generally used, abused and did improbable things to and with decks of cards during at least a quarter of his waking hours without really thinking about it-- cards were part of a magician's stock-in-trade, as much a tool as a prime indicator of the magician's state of mind. When he was annoyed, he shuffled them back and forth from hand to hand at a rapid speed; when he was happy, he tended to make full poker-hands (good ones, too) pop up in odd places among his friends' belongings.

Right now Hei-san was plotting; and so he was building a house of cards, delicately balanced on the palm of one hand. Up a tree, too, ten feet or so into the air. In the rain.

Sometimes he just amazed himself, really.

Gotta hand it to you, Thief Boy, when you get in heist-mode you're pretty good. Detailed, precise, covering all the bases… and too damned smug about it, better watch that… twenty-four…. twenty-five… twenty-six, twenty-seven, watch it… twenty-eight... damn, I'm good… twenty-nine (wonder where 'Yumi-chan is?)... thirty...

He places the next card down delicately, adjusting his angle to block the wind; a slight movement of color caught his attention from the corner of his eye-- there was an umbrella crossing the park. Hei-san grinned to himself, recognizing the pattern.

Bingo. Wonder what Aoko would say if I told her I was meeting Another Woman? One who tends to use a bright red HelloKitty umbrella when it rains... I kinda suspect she'd question my taste and then let me have it but good with the business end of her mop.

The umbrella was approaching; he had left his at home today, preferring to fend off the light rain with his nylon jacket-hood. As the short little legs beneath the red dome arrived beneath his tree, he called out cheerfully, "Yo, 'Yumi-chan! Didn't think you'd make it there for a bit--" Carefully he balanced the last card on top of his creation (… aaand thirty-two!), leaning against the water-slick treetrunk. "Got something to show you here; whatcha think? Look up!" Proudly he held it out in front of him, peering over the top with a large grin.

The umbrella tilted back just a bit… and then hesitated, wavering.

"I'd be glad to, but-do you really want me to 'look up' right now?" said a rather dry young voice.

…ohSHIT!!!

---aaaaaaand he was UP the tree another three or four meters without the faintest sensation or memory of climbing; cards were still falling in all directions like a tricolor snowstorm, and somehow that red HelloKitty umbrella had just managed to become the most threatening thing in his immediate existence. @#$#$%!!!

The red umbrella seemed to be snickering.

Hei-san couldn't seem to catch his breath-- he found himself firmly ensconced in a thick spray of autumn-red leaves, dripping and chilly but most of all giving good coverage. Camoflage was suddenly a WONDERFUL concept, and he tugged his hood down as far as it would go.

"DAMN you, Kudo, what the hell're you trying to do? Give me a heart attack??" The angry words were out of his mouth before he could think.

The red umbrella was STILL snickering; it visibly shook. "Sorry about that… couldn't resist." The amused voice didn't sound sorry at all.

Shakily Hei-san nodded to himself, still trying to gather the tattered remnants of his composure; he supposed he would have done the same (numerous instances with Nakamori sprang to mind, for instance; I always knew those would come back to haunt me...) With his heartbeat thudding like a metronome he peered downwards through the leaves, wondering if he was high enough for his features to be indistinguishable; probably, what with the rain and his hood and all. Probably. Hopefully. Aaaaaaagh...

"So-- have you become a closet HelloKitty fan, or did you just mug Ayumi for her umbrella?" he snapped out, still angry, his pulse sounding in his ears. "I can't believe she'd just say 'Hey, Conan-kun, want to pretend to be me and go meet with my juggling instructor?'" He mimicked the little girl's voice flawlessly, and the red umbrella shifted as if the small fists holding the shaft had tightened.

Goddammit, I knew this was only a matter of time, but shit! I wanted to set the meeting up between us, I wanted to be the one in control-- Kudo's just too fucking unpredictable!! Too quick on the uptake, too hard to outsmart... and now he's got me up a tree. Just flipping GREAT.

"For your information, she didn't just say anything-- not willingly, anyway. The name 'Hei-san' slipped out accidentally, and…"

"…and you figured things out from there." He tried not to sound like he was sulking. Way to GO, Kaito. You should have used a different name, you blithering, brainless moron; then he wouldn't have made the connection. But nooo, you just had to go and use 'Hei-san' all over again, just because you sort of missed being the character (he WAS fun, except for having to clean all the time) and because you thought 'Yumi-chan might feel better about a familiar-sounding name--

"Well? Here I am, no hang-glider, no bag of tricks-- aren't you planning on shooting me with one of those little anesthetic needles of yours?" Heart still beating hard, he shifted slightly and eyed the branches of the next tree over. He was pretty sure he could make it if he was careful, and there was a nice tall pine beyond that, and then he--

A snort from below; then one hand reached out from the umbrella, dangling something on a strap from a finger. "Not today… truce." The face of the dartgun-watch glinted in the pewter-grey light, droplets beading on the glass.

--he should be able to outrun those stumpy little legs without much trouble, assuming the Shrimp hadn't managed to station cops all around the park's perimeter-- What? WHAT did he just say? Did I just hear Kudo use the word ' truce'? Riiiight… next thing I know, Nakamori-san's gonna wish me Good Luck on my next heist. Kudo does NOT make truces with wanted felons. The thief was silent, staring down; the HelloKitty face on the umbrella seemed to grin mockingly up at him.

… goddamned thing looks JUST like Spot, the Kitten From Hell; never noticed that before… He shuddered, vowing silently to avoid all HelloKitty products in the future (even the Choco Pie Cookies.) "Did-you just say 'truce'? Why?"

Silence from below. Then, reluctantly: "Because… I owe you one. I'm not happy about it, but I pay my debts." The red umbrella tilted back a little, making the HelloKitty face leer lopsidedly. "You're not in any danger from me today-- no darts, no cops, no surveillance. I just want to talk." The hand tossed the watch down onto the grass, where it lay shining dully among the cards and dead leaves.

The magician shifted uncomfortably; for some reason, talk was NOT a comforting word. Still... no darts, no cops, no surveillance? Just-- talking? That didn't sound too bad; of course, he'd feel a lot better if he hadn't been trapped up a tree with a sort of simulacrum Kitten From Hell standing down below...

"Talk, hm? And just what would you like to talk about today, Conan-kun?" He carefully adjusted the placement of his feet a little, settling into the crook of two branches in a way that would allow for quick movements if necessary. "You're not still mad about my showing up in your hospital room, are you? Glad to see you're feeling better, by the way... oh, and if you want to look up, go right ahead." Unless the Shrimp had a telescope or a pair of binoculars on him, he shouldn't have a problem... he hoped.

But he still found himself holding his breath as he watched the boy tilt the umbrella slowly back and turn those sharp, sharp eyes his way.

The expression on that innocent little-boy countenance was as bland and unrevealing as his own Poker Face, giving away nothing; the eyes, though-- something was bugging Kudo, and doing a good job of it too. Hmm... He never could manage to leave well enough alone; so he decided to prod a little. "You're being awfully quiet for somebody who came here to talk; and why should I hang around to listen, anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you usually trying to catch me?"

With an annoyed grunt, the faux gradeschooler shrugged his narrow shoulders. "You seem to have plenty to say; and you know the old saw about giving somebody enough rope..." At the irritated rustle of leaves from high above, a small smirk seemed to struggle onto the childish face, banishing the grimness that had accompanied the admission of 'owing Hei-san one.' The boy pulled his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders against the damp. "As for catching you…. Much as that'd make my day, this is more important. Don't get me wrong-- I still have you on my own personal 'Most Wanted' list, but... not today."

Hei-san felt the slightest edge of his own hair-trigger nerves slacking off, just a bit; if there was one thing he was pretty sure of, it was Kudo's almost masochistic tendency towards honesty. All that 'Only One Truth', etc., etc... Rrrgh. That's one of the hard things about being one of the Good Guys twenty-four-seven: you have to keep your nose so utterly squeaky-clean. I think it'd cramp my style eventually… not that being a thief who returns his thefts is exactly a bed of roses, and all the lying got old really fast, but...)

Well. Miracle of miracles, Kudo seemed to be actually willing to chat for a bit. So let's make the most of it! A small smirk began to make its way onto his face, and with the slightly insane mercurialness so typical of the famed Kaitou Kid, the young thief suddenly decided to get… playful.

"Fine! Let's talk, then!" His voice took on an alarmingly cheery note, causing the boy below him to blink. "So-- nice weather we're having, isn't it? Seen any good soccer games lately? How's the schoolwork-- read any good kiddy books since I quit the Janitorial field? Speaking of which, who took my place? Better tell 'em there's a leak in the bathroom over by the main office; I tried to fix the bugger, but the toilets just kept--"

"What are your intentions towards Ayumi?"

Whoooo…. Sounding a bit CRANKY there, aren't we, Kudo? Matter of fact, you sound like a suspicious father. He muffled a snicker and attemped a serious answer…

… to no avail. He just couldn't pass this up.

"Well, y'know, I HAD intended to just teach her a few tricks, but since she's coming along so nicely I figured she'd make a great little Phantom Thief one of these days; all magicians are supposed to have Lovely Assistants, aren't they? We'll start small, just the occasional easy break-in and robbery-- she can follow right behind me, I can make her a cute little mini-glider, maybe with a HelloKitty motif? --and then when she gets a bit older we'll move up to AAAWWWWK!!!"

bwaWHACKKK!!!

The pinecone hit the treetrunk beside him at a rapid velocity, splintering into a hundred soggy, sharp wooden pieces; they rained all over the place and covered the bug-eyed thief with a scatter of turpentine-scented shrapnel. "OKAY, OKAY! Jeeze, can't you take a joke?" Hei-san irately brushed scraps of wood from his face, wondering if he would ever be able to pry his other hand from its grip on the bark. "Just kidding... Man, some people need to unclench a little... and I thought you said 'truce'!"

The figure below him shrugged again. "I said I wouldn't shoot you with my watch-darts-- I didn't say anything about my shoes, did I? So: one more time. What are your intentions towards Ayumi?"

The thief sighed, pulling his hood a little further down. "Chill out, Kudo. I don't mean her any harm at all-- hell, I saved her life once already, or have you conveniently forgotten that little fact? She's in no danger from me whatsoever." He laughed a little, picking another splinter of pinecone from his collar. "I didn't even mean to keep in contact with her; I just kept an eye out for a bit, sort of making sure she wasn't too traumatized by that bastard Ojiwa... She's a good kid; I liked her-- she's pretty damned brave, and I guess I sort of decided to watch over her for a little while longer. Only, she talked to me one day here in the park, and one thing led to another... and the next thing I knew I was giving her lessons every week." Hei-san sulked a little, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wet branches with a scowl.

"She's a pretty persuasive kid, you know? I guess you probably do. Smart, too... and no, I am NOT teaching her to steal! Give me a break, Kudo, what the hell do you think I am? Some kind of--"

"I don't know what you are," said the boy flatly, staring up at him with a hard, dark blue stare. "You're no older than I am-- my real age, I mean-- You steal things and return them, make a big flash and fuss about it, help the occasional person out without apparent rhyme or reason, and now you're teaching one of my friends magic tricks..."

Then he dropped his glare towards the grass (which Hei-san half expected to start withering.) "And you know about me… and you've never breathed a word, have you? You could have, but you haven't. Why not?"

The low voice had absolutely nothing childish about it at that moment, despite its timbre, just a sort of weary curiosity; Kudo really wanted to know. "Why haven't you leaked it to the tabloids or something, just to keep me busy? They'd love it-- 'Gradeschooler Actually Missing Detective Teen!' --wouldn't that just look great on Page One of some cheesy newspaper somewhere?" He gritted his teeth. "Mouri would totally lose it over something like that..."

Despite the almost joking words, there was very little humor to be heard; but there was a strange something, a something that the young thief began to realize might actually be… fear.

Ah; NOW I see why he wanted this confrontation-- it must've been driving him crazy, knowing that I know and wondering why I haven't done anything about it. I'm supposed to be the bad guy, after all, aren't I? It's not surprising, really, that he'd be on the defensive. Self-flattery aside and all that, he knew it wasn't Kaitou Kid that the boy below him was afraid of: it was exposure, of himself and Mouri Ran and whoever else was mixed up in his bizarre little enigma. Hei-san had never been able to find out exactly what had happened to put Kudo in such a weird situation (or to allow his girlfriend to follow him, which was even stranger), but there was no way in hell the teenager had gotten this way voluntarily. No doubt about that one, at least.

Staring down from his perch, he could still remember the shock of finding out...

*

A little bird had told him, really.

It was right after the whole 'Magician's Club' mess-- he had been a little shaken by that one, having been not only involved in a murder mystery firsthand but also close enough to see the boy go about his business. 'Gradeschooler'... yeah, right. Something was seriously warped about that kid; his body language was all wrong, even when he was trying his hardest-- just a little too stiff, just a little too contrived. Oh, he was good enough to fool just about everyone else, but not good enough to fool somebody whose very life and freedom depended on being able to mimic the voices and identities of others.

Kaito couldn't figure it out; this WAS a kid, not a midget or a dwarf-- his proportions, weight and development were a kid's. It was just Edogawa's intellect and attitude that weren't... natural, along with the body language. And he'd been in disguise himself, which had made the study even more interesting and amusing: a disguised thief studying a person who seemed to be wearing the ultimate mask... He didn't know what or who that mask concealed as yet but he knew it was there, knew something was there, even though his common sense kept trying to whap him on the back of the head and yell 'Hello! Little kid, right?'

Wrong. Kaito knew it. The details just weren't clear yet.

So: after all the fuss was over and the players were back at their home bases, he had sent his own private little 'secret agent' out to keep tabs on the boy. He'd trained one of his doves only a few months earlier to carry a tiny radio on one leg, something he could use (and did use, later on) to eavesdrop on Nakamori at critical moments. It had been fun, the testing period-- he'd set the bird to following various people (the 'lure' for the bird to follow had been a centimeter-wide sticker of red paper, which had been child's play to attach to one of his targets' shoulders. Even Conan's; it had helped that the kid was so short-- a brush against a stranger on a crowded sidewalk had produced excellent results.)

It was amazing just what you learned about people when they thought no-one was listening in. Nakamori's excruciating podcast tastes, Hakuba's irritating habit of talking to himself, Aoko's tendency to sing softly when walking alone...

Most of the eavesdropping sessions had been about 80% boring (there was nothing interesting about hearing a person walking on the sidewalk, for instance, and when his 'secret agent' perched among a cluster of pigeons the multiple cooing just about drove Kaito nuts) and 20% informative. He could only hear what was going on from locations where his dove could get near, like window-ledges or outside; anywhere else, well… a bird would look sort of conspicuous perching on the Police Inspector's desk, he supposed.

He had been lying on the Mouri's own rooftop (and wouldn't THAT blow a few gaskets if they knew!), watching as little Conan-kun came home from playing with his friends on a Sunday afternoon; his 'keeper', Ran, was inside, and the thief with the radio receiver had heaved an irritated sigh, expecting his quarry to head upstairs as well. Maybe he had overreacted-- maybe the boy was just that, a boy and not some kind of mutant genius.

And then the kid had gotten this sort of hesitant, almost guilty look on his face; he had turned to look at a payphone across the street, and...

Two or three minutes later, Kaito's own eyes were half popping out of his head as through his mini-binocs he watched the seven-year-old in the phone booth speak into the receiver via some sort of gadget that looked like a bowtie; the voice that his dove's microphone picked up from its perch on the phonebooth's roof was NOT that of a child.

And oh... it was familiar.

"Ran? Hey, Ran-kun? It's me, Shinichi... Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a few weeks since I called…. I know-- I wish I could. Yeah. Still caught up in this idiot case-- just thought I'd-- No, I wish I could drop by, but I'm not in town, I'm calling from, uh, Hokkaido--"

Kaito's jaw had dropped; so had his stomach, straight into his shoes. What. Wait, WHAT?! He… KNEW that voice, from the thing with the Clock Tower. He knew it-- it'd had top-billing rights in the occasional everything's-gone-fucking-wrong bad dream since then...

The kid's expressions had flickered and changed while Kaito'd watched; it was a weird, weird thing to see-- almost like looking at a moving double exposure, the face of someone very different superimposed over those young-boy features. He hadn't talked for long; the conversation had been full of awkward pauses and falterings, places where the gaps of silence said a lot more than they left out. And what they'd seemed to say was loneliness, accompanied by equal portions of regret and desperation. When the boy had at last stretched upwards to replace the receiver, the depression in his eyes had belied the face it lived behind.

That face... God, no WONDER he'd been confused about the kid's abilities. Kudo Shinichi's voice-- Kudo Shinichi's words, his detective abilities and genius... all rolled up tight and hidden inside the mask of Edogawa Conan.

Kaito should have been incredulous, disbelieving; he was not. He knew the truth when it smacked him crosseyed, which THIS had damned well just done. Numbly he watched the little boy cross the street, watched that look of tired sorrow deepen and grow black for just a second as the kid paused at the entrance; then, the small shoulders had squared, the chin had come up, and a very bright young first-grader named Conan had gone bouncing up the stairs to his somewhat dysfunctional little 'family'.

Way bizarre.

He had done a lot more snooping around after that; what he had found had been… odd. Apparently Edogawa Conan had just appeared one night--he hadn't arrived on any flights, and there was no record of him at any Japanese hospital, insurance agency or school (three of the best places to begin a record trace, Kaito had learned.) The kid had just sprung up out of nowhere, POOF! It was almost as odd as the records which also sprang up out of nowhere a month or so later that actuall did provide him a background. Kaito could recognize a first-rate forger's work when he saw one, and somebody had spent some major yen on covering the kid's back. Who?

So many questions... and not enough answers, never enough answers. But one thing was certain: Like it or not, believe it or not, a fact was a fact. Conan was Shinichi and Shinichi was Conan. Never mind how he had gotten that way-- hopefully SOMEday Kaito'd find that one out-- No, the big question was this:

What the HELL was he doing living at his girlfriend's house?

*

"So… Why?" The boy's voice was almost tired, as if he had repeatedly asked himself the same question over and over again; all things considered, he probably had.

"Why…?" Hei-san stared down through the misty drizzle. What do I tell him, anyway? I'm the villain; villains aren't allowed to just say 'Well, I didn't tell anyone about you because I'd feel like a total louse if I did, and it wouldn't be fair.' Nope; villains are supposed to be unprincipled and all that crap. Villains are supposed to be merciless and self-centered (and TOTALLY stereotyped)-- that's the secret of being a successful villain: you don't give a damn about anybody else's secrets...

Apparently I totally suck at villainry. Villainology. Villainishness. Secrets; that's the key, isn't it? That's the lock that needs picking here.

Hei-san swallowed hard, still staring downwards. He could do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way would consist of tossing some sarcastic villain-ish comment at the kid-- at Kudo-- without giving a damn about the guy's obvious feelings.

The hard way... would be hard.

Aw, hell. Who am I trying to fool? Like I ever took the easy way around anything? Have to admit, though-- I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I'd be, well, doing THIS. Hei-san almost smiled to himself at the idea, then cleared his throat gently. "Kudo?" A faint lift of the head was all the indication he got that he had been heard; the thief chose to take it as an affirmative. "Let me ask you a question before I answer that, okay?" The boy was still, waiting.

"Have you ever heard the old saying about the end justifying the means?"

Nothing for a moment; then a dark blue stare was directed up at him. "It's a fallacy. Murderers use that excuse all the time." The young voice was very cold, cold enough to freeze the air between them.

Hei-san laughed beneath his breath. "Oddly enough, I agree with you." The thief listened to the surprised silence below for a second or two before continuing.

"If I believed-- really believed-- that the end justifies the means, then maybe I would have told somebody about you, just to get you out of the way." He sighed, feeling his own burden of secrets forming a lump in his throat. "If… all I cared about was my safety, my own ends... then I would've done it. But if there's one thing I understand, it's secrets; and the end doesn't always justify the means."

He swallowed again, hearing the gulp against the soft patter of the rain all around him. It was getting a little easier to talk now; Hei-san wasn't sure if that was bad or good.

"Years ago, somebody I cared for very much was murdered by people who believed that lie; it didn't matter to them what they did, who they killed, the lives they shattered... None of it mattered one fat damn to them, all they wanted was to get what they were after. Well, they didn't get it then..."

"... and they won't get it now, not if I have my way." The last half of the sentence was whispered in a voice as cold as Conan's had been a few seconds before.

The words seemed almost to echo amidst the soft drip of rain.

Below, the small figure was quiet for a few seconds; overhead, Hei-san took a moment to bring his emotions back under control. That second of outburst had startled him rather badly; he usually managed to clamp down on that sort of thing. Sometimes I get caught up in the game of being Kid-- it's fun, as terrifying and dangerous as it can be at times, the lunatic in me loves every second of it-- But behind everything I can never forget why I do what I do. Can't let myself ever forget that, or it all means nothing.

It can't just mean nothing, or I'm no better than They are.

"Ah. Your father."

He nearly fell out of his tree, doing a sudden double take. "Wh---??"

"The original Kaitou Kid; he was your father, wasn't he?" The words were very quiet; a trace of what might have been sympathy was wound through them, as fine and thin as a red silk thread.

At the sudden agitated shower of leaves and drops from overhead, Conan shook his head impatiently. "Give me a break; I do have a brain, and the facts add up. Kaitou Kid went missing almost a decade ago after an upsurge of activity, which probably means he had been after a particular target-- the 'end' his murderers were also trying for, correct? Then, eight years later, you showed up on the scene. I'd say that makes you out for revenge for the loss of your father." The voice was still rather cool, but far less icy than it had been.

"Revenge. Right." The young man in the tree stared blankly out over the park. "It'd be nice if it were that simple. I don't just want to find the target-- I want to destroy it. It's… complicated." Then he growled, scrabbling one hand through his hair; more droplets rained down over the boy, who ignored them. "But you know what, Kudo? You want to know the main reason why I do what I do?" It felt oddly good to finally talk about it to somebody, even an enemy (if that's what Kudo was; again, something that was less clear than before--)

"It's not because they took my dad away from me… and yeah, you're right, he was the original. It's not because one day almost ten years ago a little boy came home from school and found out he'd never see his father again; it's not even because a good man died-- and he WAS a good man, no matter what he did for a living... Revenge? Well, maybe that's why I started out doing what I do, but… now..." Hei-san ground his teeth, the words coming harder as anger flamed up inside, the anger that never quite went away.

"Now... the bastards that began this whole thing… if I let them get away with what they've done, I'm no better than they are. My father wasn't their only victim. And if you know anything at all about me, you know I don't let people get hurt if I can help it."

Conan-- Kudo-- nodded. "I know. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Hei-san spared a slightly startled glance for the boy below him, then nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, well... I've got my standards too." He sighed, wiping drops of what might be either rain or sweat from his face; after a moment he laughed a little wryly. "Y'know, I've just told you things nobody else has ever heard before; if you wanted to find out who I was, you could probably do it with some heavy fieldwork. So if I really was the villain I'm supposed to be, this is where the blackmail threats would start-- right, 'Conan-kun'?"

And you know what? I could really make you sweat, Kudo; I really could. I could wring you out and hang you up to dry, if I wanted to… you've got more than just you to protect now--

And I admit, it's tempting, if only because you're the only person to ever beat me at my game. But I won't. I don't do that sort of shit. I wonder if you know how lucky you really are, though...

I really do suck at being a villain.

He became aware of the gulf of tense silence below him and shook his head ruefully. "Time for you to give me a break, Kudo-- didn't I just say that nobody gets hurt? Quit worrying; I'm not going to rat on you OR your cute little girlfriend. So chill out."

Hei-san was aware of a deep breath being released from below; he studiously ignored it, considering that a wisecrack right now would probably be risking another pinecone (just as carefully placed as the last one had been, too-- he wasn't stupid enough to think that Kudo had missed what he had aimed for.) He spent a moment or two settling his own breathing; this hadn't exactly been the sort of conversation he had envisioned when he had planned their little confrontation... What was that old saying about 'the best-laid plans of mice and men'?

Should've been more something like 'the best-laid plots of Phantom Thieves and Detectives...' Hell if I ever thought we'd be having a fairly reasonable conversation with each other, even if one of us is up a tree and the other one's under a HelloKitty umbrella.

A faint grin began to creep across his face, dispelling the tension that had been residing there for far too long. Must be 'Yumi-chan's influence on me; seems like I'm back to the level of playing "Cops and Robbers" all over again. "Now, back to the main point of today's discussion group…" he prompted the silent form below him. "We've covered MY end of this little topic, but what about you? Planning to drop by the park next Friday with a few squad-cars, helicopters, police battalions and armored tanks?" He smirked down through the leaves like a Cheshire Cat (size XL.)

The boy below him raised an eyebrow. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you? The answer's 'No,' though I'll be damned if I can say why."

"Tsk, tsk… little boys shouldn't swear, they'll get their mouths washed out." The look he received in answer spoke entire volumes. Hei-san chuckled and leaned forward a bit, propping his chin up and wiping away a trickle of water that had seeped past his hood. "I'll tell you why, Kudo, and you can make of it whatever you feel like. We've got something in common: a little girl neither of us wants to see get hurt or upset. And you--" he waved a hand at the boy, sprinkling him with droplets again, "you owe me one, as you pointed out yourself. Who opened that storage room you were in? Who yanked 'Yumi-chan out of the way? Who--"

A highly annoyed snort from below made him stop, as Hei-san's common-sense circuits cut in. Better not point those little details out too much, or he'll get even more angry than he is. Don't wanna give him an ulcer, or a reason to kick another pine-cone my way. "Anyway, this isn't really about Ayumi completely, is it? It's a territory thing, an ego thing if you like-- you want to see how many blocks you can set up in front of me and I want to see how many I can leap over."

He laughed at the boy's face; pure outrage made Kudo look like someone had kicked him hard from behind.

"Well, I'm flexible-- you'd be amazed-- but only so far. I'll keep your secret, but as for Ayumi-chan--? Don't ask me to stop teaching her; it'd break her heart, and besides…" Hei-san laughed a little, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "…I'd miss her too. Even Phantom Thieves need the occasional friend."

We both have double lives, Kudo, but you have company in yours. It's sort of a tradeoff: I get time to be my normal self at school and all that, but I'm pretty much on my own here except for Jii. You, on the other hand, have to be Conan all the time, but you've got Rin-kun and a few other people who know who you really are. I don't want to give up my little apprentice, and I won't give ground to you, dammit!

Now, the question is: Is this a stalemate, or can we work this out?

Silence again; they seemed to be doing a lot of that. The sky was beginning to lighten somewhat as the thin rain lessened from a drizzle to a barely-there mist. Already the shadows were starting to lengthen towards late afternoon, but Hei-san realized with an internal start that they had been talking for a fairly short time, really. Heh; feels like it's been freaking hours. The boy below him was beginning edge over from surly into thoughtful, and the thief felt a distinct sense of relief. A truly pissed-off Kudo would not be good for his health.

"So…" he prompted--

"So…" said Conan at precisely the same time--

They stared at each other, nonplussed; then Hei-san grinned down from his perch. "'Women and children first'…"

The boy snorted, but eyed him with a certain gleam of amusement. "One more question--" (the thief above him opened his mouth) "--and if you say whatever smartass comment you've got on the tip of your tongue, I'll send another pinecone after you--" (The thief closed his mouth.) "Good. Okay: WHY should I trust you not to involve Ayumi? If you do get caught, what happens to her then? Or had you thought of that?"

The thief sighed, a little of the humor that had crept back into his face leaking away. "Yes, I had thought of it, I have a brain too, Kudo-- it's why I'm using 'Hei-san' as my name, really. IF I get caught, and please note that I say 'IF'-- 'Yumi-chan doesn't know me as Kaitou Kid; all she knows is 'Hei-san', and that's how I plan on things staying; it'd take something just shy of an Act of God to make that change. Believe me, Kudo, I will not get her into trouble. She's a sweet kid and I like her-- you don't need to worry on her account." He studied the figure below him. "One more thing: Ayumi trusts me; maybe you should trust her judgment, hm? After all," he added rather pointedly, a slightly wicked light in his own eyes, "I'm trusting YOU on her advice..."

(Well, that wasn't quite true-- he had been watching Kudo for some time now and thought he had a pretty good grasp of the guy's character. But a little embellishment didn't hurt in this case.)

Hesitation; Hei-san could see it in the narrow shoulders below him, the indecisive frown and the way the boy's fists tightened on the shaft of the umbrella. If I wanted to, I could just stop showing up on Friday afternoons… if I wanted to, and if I really thought 'Yumi might be in any danger from meeting with me, I would. But I don't want to, and I honestly don't see a problem-- IF the Shrimp here'll hold off calling in the entire Metro Police Force down on me. It's a real risk, but--

Hmmm. What about...

"Look-- I realize I'm probably being stupid, but-- I'll tell you what: Let's make this park a sort of 'neutral ground', okay? You don't want to upset Ayumi-chan, and neither do I, so-- I won't bring Kid business into the park… and Kudo Shinichi can stay separate from Edogawa Conan, as far as I'm concerned. What do you think? A secret kept, for a secret kept. Fair trade?"

The small figure under the HelloKitty umbrella looked up, raising both eyebrows this time. For a second Hei-san thought he would refuse... And then he nodded, a wry and unchildlike smile crossing the young face. "I said 'truce' earlier, and… I guess that can stand-- for the moment, at least, and only when you're not in… 'active' mode? For Ayumi-kun's sake, if nothing else--"

Hei-san blew out a relieved breath. "Suites me. When I'm here, I'll just be 'Hei-san'-- aaand you'll just be Conan-kun, her friend, who'll stay safely on the other side of the park, okay? And no funny business with the darts or those little radios, either. OR binoculars."

The boy rolled his eyes, then nodded. "No funny business, fine." Then he glared up at the thief with a sharp look. "But steal ONE thing while you're here and all bets are off."

The young man in the tree looked hurt. "I do not steal during off-hours, Kudo; it's against the Phantom Thief Union Rules."

Conan made a dismissive little noise, tugging his glasses off and attempting to wipe the drop-spotted lenses on his shirt tail. He shivered; although the majority of the rain had stopped, the fine mist that had replaced it tended to creep inside clothing with ease, making everything a little too cool and damp. "Okay… so Kaitou Kid never enters the park or Ayumi's life; if you can do that… the truce can stand. Here, at least--" and he aimed a sudden, startling grin as wicked as any of Kid's up at the figure in the tree above him, who jumped slightly. "Anywhere else that you show up, though? That's a different matter entirely."

Hei-san blinked down at him, slightly unnerved by that grin, and then showed his own teeth. “Wouldn't have it any other way, 'Conan-kun.' And I'll keep quiet about your past here or elsewhere; fair enough."

That'll work-I get to keep my little apprentice, and Kudo can stop worrying about whether or not I'm gonna blow his house down around his and his girlfriend's preadolescent ears. Heh; if he's like this now, how bad is he going to be when he hits puberty all over again? Horrible thought… "Got any more questions? It's getting late and I need to head out-- without any watchers, of course..."

The boy below him gave him an entirely too innocent smile. "Of course." He shoved his glasses back up his nose with one finger. "Ah-- there IS one more thing I'd like to ask, purely out of curiosity… if you don't mind?"

Hei-san gave him a slightly suspicious look; Kudo was being polite, and that made him nervous. "What?"

"WHY do you keep using my voice?" The question was almost plaintive.

The thief in the tree blinked. "Huh?-- Oh. Right." Now, how do I put this? I could just tell him that I decided to mimic his 'Kudo' voice to put Ayumi at her ease… Nah, screw it. You don't start off a truce with a lie. "Um, don't quite know how to tell you this, but… apparently we sort of sound alike. I noticed it during the Clock Tower incident, back when you were, er..." Hei-san's voice trailed off as he searched for the proper adjective; the scowl he was getting suggested that short jokes would NOT be welcome. "…taller?" He grinned down through the leaves at the boy, who raised one eyebrow and chuckled.

Conan closed his umbrella with a snap! and a rustle of nylon; the mist had finally stopped. "Guess I'll be on my way, then. I'll keep my end of the bargain and expect you to keep yours as well-- you won't have to worry about my watching you leave or tracing your location, nothing like that. Fair enough?" The boy shook raindrops from his hair as he stooped to pick up his wristwatch from the ground; they glinted in the dim rays of the sun that were just beginning to break through the clouds overhead.

Hei-san nodded. "Works for me. I'd shake your hand but I'd really rather keep my anonymity just now, since I don't have my hat and monocle and it's daylight; wouldn't want to give you an unfair advantage..." The boy shrugged, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth; as he turned to walk away, he chuckled again. "What's so funny?" demanded the thief above him, beginning to plan his descent.

Conan glanced back over his shoulder. "Just the bit about our voices being alike-- it's kind of funny, but we look pretty much alike too, or we would, if I hadn't dropped ten years." He propped the closed umbrella on his opposite shoulder.

The thief in the branches froze. "And… you would know this how?" he asked carefully, heart full of dread...

The boy-- the detective-- smirked, still looking back; his eyes gleamed with amusement in the late light of afternoon. "Let's just say that most little kids tend to have excellent eyesight... and those leaves didn't really cover as much as you probably thought they did."

Hei-san's mouth dropped open. Oooooshit.

"Should've kept your hood pulled down better, too…"

And with that Edogawa Conan walked away across the rain-wet grass, whistling.

It was quite a while-- nearly an hour, in fact-- before the thief in the tree behind him was able to climb down without shaking.

* * * * *

NOTE:  Much of the first few chapters will be seen through a child's eyes (Ayumi's) and so will be a lot gentler than what happens later; the 'graphic depictions of violence' warning is there for a reason, but 'graphic' doesn't have to mean 'gratuitous.'  Just thought I'd say.

Chapter Text

Thursday afternoon...

Slouched at his desk, Inspector Nakamori Ginzo frowned down at a building plan and chewed irritably on his moustache. This had not been his week, not at all; in fact, as weeks went, he was beginning to think it qualified for the Grand National 'Bite Me' Award. As his eyes traced possible entrances and exits on the blueprints, he mentally chalked off a list of private and personal grievances:

One: The current Kaitou Kid riddle was being a pain in the ass (so what else was new?) and he'd been staring at it for far too many hours.

Two: He had been up too late, scratching his head over said riddle, and his eyes were gritty with the lack of sleep.

Three: This building was ALSO going to be a pain: asinine modernistic architecture, full of angles and weird little alcoves-- posting guards was going to be a nightmare.

Four: He was in the process of quitting smoking. That alone was cause enough for the entire Kaitou Kid Task Force to start shaking in their uniformed shoes.

He growled, rubbing at his temples with one hand and wondering if Aoko would really notice if he snuck just one cigarette--? Nahh, scratch that; his daughter had a nose like a bloodhound, she'd catch the scent on his jacket even if he took it off. hell, she'd figure it out even if he stripped butt-naked and smoked a half a cig in the men's john! WHY had he picked this week of all weeks to quit?

Rrrrrrrgh!!! The Inspector tried desperately to think of something else.

For instance... Let's see-- I can post two men by the back left entrance on the inside, two outside, two more in charge of general surveillance, a handful around the perimeter outside, a couple-- no, better make that a half-dozen-- in the courtyard between the east and west wings... Looks like their usual security's just your basic college rent-a-stooge roaming unarmed types-- they're practically screaming 'Target Here!' for Kid.

Three-story building, only one opening onto the roof... skylights over the main exhibit hall, open courtyard with a fountain and some sort of ornamental walkway from the third-floor east to the west overhead... huh. And as for the target...

It had taken some major mental elbow-grease, but Nakamori was pretty certain he had at least sorted out the basic facts of the riddle. The exhibit opening on the following day at the local University was just the sort of thing Kid liked: lots of entrances and exits, and lots of nice, shiny jewels to scoop up. Lots of choices, lots of ways to improvise. It was one of the international 'traveling exhibits', moving from college to college; historical things, for the most part. This one just happened to be a multi-cultural jewelry exhibition.

The date...that made me sweat a little. Too many choices, until you looked at it sideways.

'Lacus, palus, mare and rille, seen entire and unhidden'... Kid's heist-notes tended to have a very, very short fuse; it had to be close, very close, no more than a day or three out max. The first four words had been easy enough for the the trained brains down in Research, they were names for some of the features of the moon: so-called lakes, swamps, seas and canals. No such thing, of course, but that's what they looked like if you squinted hard, supposedly. 'Seen entire and unhidden' had caused the Inspector to dredge up a few of his special cursewords that he saved for just the right occasion, but then he'd glanced over at his calendar and noticed that the full moon would fall on Friday, and...

As that goddam lunatic would say, 'Bingo,' mused Nakamori, doodling little circles on the sides of his notepad in ballpoint. It'd been just that easy for once.

'Even Time will bow before the Princess when she is present'...

Time, time… he always indicates when he'll strike. I've missed that in the past, but practice makes perfect-- and he loves to use obvious things. There's a clock right over where the main exhibit cases will be, and I doubt he'll show up in the daylight. So: when does a clock look like it's bowing?

Nakamori grinned; it was not a very nice grin. When both its hands are hanging down. Six-thirty p.m.

And as for the 'Princess'… that part was, again, almost too easy. The jeweled crème-de-la-crème of the whole show was an icy, sparkling thing of diamonds and silver: a nineteenth-century tiara that had once belonged to a princess of Belgium. It would rest in all its glory in a spotlighted, specially-made revolving case right below the clock.

What could be more obvious? Again: easy. That was bothering Nakamori more than a little; it wasn't a word normally associated with the Phantom Thief, his heists, his riddles, his goddamn maniacal grin or anything else related to the bastard. Never, ever, ever. 'Easy' usually translated into 'trick,' and that could lead to anything from the Inspector's pants briefly catching on fire to a shower of genuine Ariolimax californicus californicus raining down on the squad's heads (that had been horrible.)

As for the rest of the riddle...

'The Sun shall hide his face when confronted by her beauty

As she ascends to Heaven upon angels' wings.'

Sunset-- he had checked the time, and it was listed as six-twenty-eight p.m. Which, granted, was off by a minute or so, but… hell; it made sense, or as much sense as Kid's riddles ever made.  (That two-minute gap disturbed him, though, he had to admit it.)

He gnawed on his moustache again; that last line, though… angels' wings? What angels? So much for 'easy.' It wasn't Christmastime, so that reference was out… he had looked at every possible tag-end of info on the hall and there was nothing even remotely connected with angels there, no statuary, pictures, stained-glass images, nothing. No slang phrases associated with a certain door, no college professor's nicknamed 'angel' or any variations thereof (although that line of investigation had produced some amusing results; he wondered if the Dean of Agricultural Studies was aware that his students called him 'Weevil' behind his back.) Nothing to do with angels...

And that bothered him. Kid never put anything in his riddles without a reason-- even that goddamned 'April Fool' greeting with the Black Pearl case had indicated that the whole thing was a feint, not that he had realized it at the time.

Rrrrgh; need a SMOKE! And his triple-damned nicotine patches were itching, to make matters worse. The Inspector was about three seconds away from shredding the blueprints in front of him (the second set that day), when a polite knock on his office door made him jump. He looked up with a scowl on his face and a faint, evil hope in his heart that whoever-it-was was somebody he could bark at.

No such luck; it was just his lunch being delivered. The faded-looking office aide edged in the door, tray in hand and a look of trepidation on her face. The news that the Inspector was attempting to break his smoking habit had circulated with all the speed of a thundering herd of wildebeest, sending various office personnel off on day-long errands just in case their paths might have to cross. Nakamori had a reputation already, and this little addition to his usual temper was like pouring salt on a wound.

The aide carefully placed the tray on the corner of the disgruntled man's desk with all the air of a lowly Second Wife presenting her firstborn child for her husband's approval; at Nakamori's grunt, she edged thankfully out of the office--

"What's this?"

--almost out of the office, that is. The aide swallowed nervously. "Ummm, Sir? It's your-- your lunch?"

"No, THIS." He pointed at a small white envelope to one side of the Inspector's boxed tonkatsu; she hadn't noticed it-- it had been tucked away beneath the lidded container, half-hidden by the paper napkins. The aide indicated her ignorance with a sort of combination terrified-grimace-and-headshake, and then at his grumbling "Oh, never mind!" scurried out of the office, the door swinging shut behind her with a distinctly relieved click.

He turned the offending piece of paper over in his hands; it was small, not even a real envelope, just a folded bit of paper that had been taped shut. Something small, flat and brightly-colored fell out when he tore it open, accompanied by a thin slip of paper...

Chew on this, Keibu-- it'll help stop the cravings. Best of luck quitting smoking!
                                                                                                                    --1412

???  Nakamori turned the object over and read the label: TENSAI LABS -- NICOTINE GUM. The wrappings peeled easily away in his slightly shaky fingers to reveal what indeed looked to be a pack of chewing gum of some sort; a faint, sweetish scent met his nostrils.

RRRRGHHH!!! @#$#@@%!!! If I ever get my hands on him I swear I'll-- hrrm; nicotine gum?  His eyes widened; the pack of gum suddenly looked very appealing.

Wonder if it really works? Suspiciously the Inspector unwrapped a stick. No puncture marks, no apparent booby traps or odd stains (and poison was emphatically NOT the Kid's style anyway.) He sniffed it with care; no smells of atomic-level hotsauce or anything else of the sort, just spearmint. Wondering if desperation had finally snuffed out his remaining gray cells, Nakamori slipped it into his mouth and bit down.

He fully expected the worst; but for once, on this day of all days, it didn't happen. Hrm; minty. Not too bad.

Nicotine gum… Obviously there's no possibility I could be even remotely grateful to Kid for anything whatsoever, and obviously any contacts from him have to be reported per procedure and all that crap, right? The head of the Kaitou Kid Special Taskforce closed his eyes as a lovely, lovely gum-induced chemical rush swept sweetly through his bloodstream, slowly clearing the fog from his thoughts and at least a little of the homicidal adrenaline from his nerves. Yeah, guess I'll have to report this... sooner or later. Later sounds good. Got more important things to think about anyway. The Inspector carefully tucked the precious pack of gum away in his inner lapel pocket.

Nakamori Ginzo leaned back in his chair and stretched wearily; the springs beneath the leather seat squeaked as he tilted his head backwards to rest on his clasped hands, allowing his eyes to drift shut in exhaustion. The last day or so had been a combination of the usual irritation and outrage generated by a Kid "calling card" and the general excitement and mostly unacknowledged glee produced by the same. Not that he wanted Kid to attempt a theft (hell, no!)-- the bastard was too goddamned good at what he did for that-- but Kid's capture was the Inspector's chief goal in life, after all.

His capture, though… not his death. And that little thought brought him back to something that he had been considering for several weeks now, ever since that hideous mess that his mind persisted in thinking of as the Dog-Collar Heist.

That had NOT been a normal Kid encounter, no, not at all…

* * *

It had been such a stupid target-- some brainless English aristocrat several centuries past had been rich enough and bone-numbingly moronic enough to ornament his favorite hunting-dog's collar with an impressive array of large stones. None had been anything incredibly valuable, just an assortment of beryl and rather low-grade topaz for the most part, but for some reason Kid had been interested. The usual riddle had been delivered, Nakamori had sweated it through (he'd only been able to work out the target and date of attempt that time), and then he'd spent the next two days camped out in the bushes outside the collar owner's overly-ostentatious mansion, scratching at insect bites and chain-smoking one cigarette after another.

Kid had shown up as promised and snatched the goods (the Inspector winced as he recalled that once more his men (and himself) just hadn't been quick enough) and had been merrily dodging the usual scream-and-leap attacks from his uniformed foes as he charged for the nearest wall, obviously intending a quick vault-over and exit--

--when a flurry of SHOTS had rung out. Nakamori's head had jerked around so fast he had nearly gotten whiplash looking for the shot's source; his men all knew not to shoot, so who the flaming hell had had the gall to ignore HIS orders? He'd snarled and staggered to his feet (a leap of his own had sent him nosediving into a bush), wheeling around and yelling himself blue in the face--

--and his men were suddenly falling , they were falling or throwing themselves down around him with shouts and screams--

Kid had dropped and rolled before the first volley's echoes had even begun to fade; for half a second or so Nakamori had almost thought he would be arresting a corpse (he'd found himself to be annoyingly relieved to see that the thief was still alive and apparently unhurt.) Rising to his feet, the familiar white-clad figure had looked upwards towards the roof, and the Inspector had involuntarily followed his line of sight.

Two figures were silhouetted against the sky, lying in true sniper pose at the edge of the roof; Nakamori had drawn a sharp breath at the gleam and jerk of a weapon as another report rang out, then another-- He had shouted something inarticulate as Kid had suddenly slammed himself sideways, smashing the Inspector once again face downwards into the dirt.

He had screamed with rage-- his men were being hit -- goddammit, he needed to get UP!

For the space of a few seconds there had been nothing but echoing gunfire and shouts and the cold roughness of dirt and grass against his face (and that weight against his back, a human weight that had acted as a living shield; he'd had to acknowledge that later.) Then a cry from the rooftop and a final echoing scatter of shots had led to silence, and the weight had suddenly been gone.

Spitting out blades of grass and crumbs of earth, the infuriated Inspector had risen to his knees; he was hurting--one shoulder was numb, and he had a gash across his forehead where he had struck something hard and sharp. He hadn't been so battered, however, that he had missed the fact that someone had just tried to gun Kid down, Someone who was emphatically NOT a member of the police force. And they apparently didn't give a damn about who else they hit--

No, that was wrong, it was wrong and he knew it deep in his bones; they had been trying to hit the police as well, himself especially. Clean sweep; they want Kid and the person who knows the most about him dead, the Inspector had thought almost clinically above his rage and shock. This was emphatically NOT part of the usual routine.

Kid was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, his head hanging down; for once he wasn't cracking jokes or making flippant remarks. Nakamori had choked as the mansion's floodlights clearly revealed the black singe-mark scorched across the length of one sleeve; the bullet had just barely, barely missed the thief's arm, traveling almost delicately across the cloth and just past his collar to impact in the stone wall. If the lunatic hadn't been so goddamned fast, he would have been a very well-dressed corpse.

And he had knocked Nakamori out of the way.

Then Kaitou Kid had looked up, and the Inspector had found himself meeting that piercing, mostly-hidden gaze. The shouts and outcries all around them had seemed to recede into the background, and he had heard the Phantom Thief's whisper as if it had been right beside his ear:

"Nakamori-keibu-- there are bigger and more dangerous fish in the sea than me, and you'll be seeing them again. I'd watch out if I were you; no one here was supposed to leave this place alive tonight."

For the barest flash of a second they had continued to stare at each other through the dark and the shouts and the glass of a monocle's lens--

--and then Kid had been moving, streaking past the cops (who had been converging on the figures on the rooftop anyway.) Thirty seconds later he was so far gone that he might not have ever been there at all, except for the two dead snipers (one by a policeman's bullet, one by his own gun), three wounded cops, one missing jeweled dog-collar, and one severely shaken Inspector Nakamori Ginzo.

Two days later the collar had been returned, safely fastened around the neck of a stuffed toy dog (along with a box of chocolates marked 'For The Wounded') and delivered to Nakamori's own home doorstep by an anonymous hand. There had been one other thing: a small note tucked beneath the collar, folded into the shape of an origami shark. The note had contained only nine words but they had been quite enough to make the Inspector sit in his living room for the next hour or so, smoking cigarette after cigarette, mind working furiously...

They're after you too now.  Watch your back.
                                                       --KID

* * *

That had been when he had started really thinking about things. Not the normal things associated with Kid either--the game had changed, and new players had entered in. Or had they been there all along? And if they had, why did they suddenly show their hands so-- so goddamn blatently now, after so many heists?

Just who had he pissed off lately, that they should want him as well as Kid dead?

Nakamori knew he had a tendency towards tunnel-vision; sometimes it was even useful, allowing him to narrow down his search on a crime or criminal to a level of accuracy that some of his more easygoing colleagues envied. He was no Sherlock Holmes or Sleeping Kogoro (he had met the man, and frankly he thought he was a blithering moron) but you didn't make the rank of Inspector by being a total incompetent, either. Nakamori had an excellent record of captures and successful cases; it wasn't as if catching Kaitou Kid was his only occupation... just his favorite, in a masochistic kind of way. Maybe that was why his consistent escapes rankled so much. But he'd be damned if he let some gun-toting bastards take down his personal pet target.

So: why the sudden visible presence of a third party and the attempted murder? Several possibilities had sprung to mind, the first being that Kid had fallen afoul of a business partner or two-- kaitous, as a rare-but-documented class of thief, had often worked in the past for the highest bidder. But… he always returned what he stole (for whatever insane reason of his own), so that was probably out. Another possibility was that a past theft had yanked a gem-owner's chain so badly that they had decided to gun him down in revenge, but that theory had its own problems; the annoyed party would have to know where he would strike next...

If they didn't have access to his notes (and Nakamori was fairly certain that they hadn't gotten hold of the dog-collar one-- it had somehow managed to find its way inside his personal, desk-delivered newspaper two days before the heist), then there had to be a link between the gems.

That damned dog-collar...

It hadn't been particularly valuable at all; a lot of Kid's past thefts hadn't. The gems stolen had ranged across the gamut from amber to diamond and everything in between, with the only obvious link being that they were gems. A little thought and any number of chain-smoked cigarettes produced Link Number Two: they were, without exception, old. Every one of them had been an antique-no new gems, nothing freshly cut. The Black Star, the Green Dream, the Golden Eye ( why did famous gems all have such stupid names?)-- every one of them was a historical treasure of one level or other, even that idiot dog-collar.

But there were a lot of famous, historical gems; why weren't they all targets? Opportunity? No, Kid tended to make his own opportunities if they weren't available. So... he needed the next link. And for some reason, he had this dim little tag-end of memory kicking him in his mental posterior about thatf-- hadn't he assigned somebody to check out the gems and correlations between their histories a few months back?

He needed a motive, too (not for Kid but for the ones with the guns)-- those snipers had been well-hidden and organized, and one of them had taken his own life when escape had proved impossible. What kind of incentive made THAT option attractive over the prospects of being arrested but at the very least upright?

Too many questions...

...and if the next heist ended in a bloodbath, Nakamori had just better hope that he went down with his men before the guilt killed him. Of course, considering Kid's little message, that was a possibility.

Most of all, though, the Inspector needed the next link. So he started looking.

Nakamori loved the Internet; he flat-out loved it. He didn't USE it himself, not beyond the local office LAN for his emails and so on, but he could set a handful of the data-and-research crew downstairs a topic and they'd come back to him in a few hours or so with a chunk of accurate, verifiable info that he could print out, stare at, doodle on, and draw diagrams around (he was big on writing down his thoughts, even if nobody else could read his handwriting.) Sitting at his desk, he chewed on his moustache and began to go over the Kid-related research topics he had assigned. Sure enough, there it was...

One of the brighter geeks down in Research had popped out a sort of 'biography' of every target Kid had gone after during his career, listing the histories and past owners of the gems as well as any common points. At the time he had read through it, wincing at the occasional painful memory, and then shuttled the file away into his own personal database. Beyond that, he hadn't given it another thought.

Well, apparently someone else had. The file had been hacked, he was sure of it… because, staring at the words on the screen before him, he had suddenly had an-- well, you could hardly call it an 'idea' as such; more of a line of conjecture or a suspicion, really. There was this faint memory nagging at him from when he had read the file before about all the annoying, stupid legends that gems seemed to collect...

Legends. Myths. Fabled properties.

Nakamori growled to himself just under his breath, and wished violently for a cigarette. He popped another stick of gum from its wrapper and reached for the phone on his desk. Tap-tap-tappa-tap…. Beep.

"Research? Nakamori here..."

*

Less than an hour later the Inspector stared at the results on his desk; they had been in the report all along-- he just hadn't looked at them the right way, and (more to the point) he hadn't read far enough into the file. There before his eyes lay a rather peculiar graph, compiled by somebody down in Research who had apparently had a little time on their hands and a speck of imagination.

It charted the so-called 'magical' properties of Kid's targets. AND it was so damned bizarre that Nakamori was absolutely certain that it had never been done before… or at least not in any official capacity.

Legends and myths, goddamned myths and legends... Every one of them, every gem stolen from about a year before he disappeared and since he reappeared. Every fricking one has some stupid-ass story associated with it. Never mind the occasional painting or baseball, he's mostly stolen gems, and...

Legends. Legends that this gem can heal wounds, that gem can bring the dead to life, and the other gem can extend your youth indefinitely. Total bullshit, of course; no chunk of shiny rock can do shit like that. Of course, whether or not the legends were true didn't actually matter when you got right down to it; catching a perp depended on understanding what THEY thought was real, not what YOU did. If they believed that God only allowed them to wear bright red socks on Tuesdays, then you went looking for people wearing bright red socks on Tuesdays whether or not it was logical.

Nakamori rubbed at his temples; his head hurt.

Something else occurred to him then, and with a slowly sinking heart he tapped away on his keyboard to check it... DAMN. I was right. That's why they targeted me, isn't it? Everybody knows that Kid steals gems, but-- Aww, SHIT. The file had been stored in his personal drive. Wonderful; the file properties listed his name as the owner and originator.

The Inspector stared at the tiny bit of data that had apparently sent two snipers out with his name inscribed on their hit-list alongside Kid's. Goddamn. Hit the jackpot, didn't I? This one little fact, listed under his name and in his files, had made him a threat to Somebody somewhere, someone so terrifying that one of the assassins had actually killed himself rather than be taken prisoner and interrogated. That thought led to ugly considerations regarding just why they had been afraid to be taken into police custody... Like it or not, the reasons weren't exactly numerous, and Nakamori felt sweat beginning to bead on the back of his neck. If he couldn't trust his own fellow cops, if the sniper had been afraid that someone within the department would get to him, then-- Wait, no. That still felt wrong; there was something missing, he needed a prisoner to interrogate, dammit!

Nakamori stared at the file; the facts stared him right back in the face.

There was a certain thing about identifying links: you could predict a trend. If the file actually HAD been hacked (and he was more certain of it now than ever), then whoever-the-hell-they-were could possibly predict Kid's next target even without a note-- after all, the thief had been working almost exclusively in Japan since his reappearance, and there were only so many unusual gems with rumored mysterious properties on display…

Frowning, he turned his attention back to his previous notes, flipping through the growing pile of paper on his desk. Tomorrow's target-- what about it, did it have any myths associated with it?

One more call down to research had that little line of inquiry being followed up... he would see the results today before he headed home or somebody would find their ass in a sling. There was no way in hell Nakamori was going into the situation on the following day unprepared...

Just hope that goddamned Kid is prepared too-- I'd rather see the bastard get away than end up in the morgue. The Inspector popped another stick of nicotine gum into his mouth and chewed, wishing with every bit of his frustrated heart that he hadn't flushed all his cigarettes down the john. This was turning into a very, VERY long day...

* * *

Halfway across town, other people were making their preparations for the heist as well.

"You want to be a hero with the axe about to fall,
You'd buy it for the love and for the glory, for it all--"

Kuroba Kaito sang the English lyrics half beneath his breath as he approached the University building; he had run across a little-known American group called Cats Laughing on the internet (weird bunch of folks-- they were all authors of one sort or another), and their songs tended to stick in a person's head.

"You want to dress in black and lose your heart beyond recall,
Hunt a dream through rain and thunder on your honor, for it all--"

He grinned to himself, kicking at a pebble as he walked; the stone ricocheted off a nearby pole back into his path, and he veered slightly so as to pick on it again-- he'd been moving that little bit of rock steadily along for the last two blocks, just for fun. Those lyrics... It should be 'white', not black-- got a heist tomorrow!! Kaito gave the pebble a particularly intricate little kick the next time, shooting it along to ping off of two poles and a Do Not Park sign; it plopped down neatly into the center of a tiny sidewalk flowerbed, scarcely disturbing a leaf as it landed.

Heist, heist, heist… His thoughts danced in anticipation; this was always how he was just before a job: full of anticipation, nerves on edge in a way that was half-uncomfortable, half-thrilling… Kaito knew it was mostly adrenaline, a chemical high that made his muscles tighten and his thoughts turn predatory.

He loved it-- Kaito absolutely LOVED it; it was such a freaking rush. He shivered deep inside.

Somewhere far away in the back of his mind the young thief knew that what he was doing was-- how did it go? Oh right: reprehensible, illegal, immoral and just plain wrong… but when he had his plans worked up and his goal targeted, somehow Kuroba Kaito seemed to recede into the background behind Kaitou Kid-- and that was how it had to be, really. Doubts and misgivings would only screw him up and get him killed, especially now.

Oh yeah, especially now, since the Boys in Black had finally made their move. That had been unexpected... Kaito's grin faded as he recalled the last time, all the shooting and commotion and the smells of gunpowder and blood--

Bastards. They HURT people that time, almost killed some of 'em. Nakamori… no doubt about it, they were aiming for him as well as for me. I don't know why; he must've found out something that makes him a threat. I just hope he'll pay attention to that warning I sent him, and he probably will; no matter how much he slips up in some things, he's not fool enough to disregard the facts.

The attack had shaken him badly; for days afterwards he had seethed inside, sick at heart that somebody had gotten hurt during one of his heists-- hell, both of the snipers had died. He hadn't really wanted that (had he? A small, darker part of him wasn't at all sure), but what was done was done. What really bothered him the most was the poor cops who had gone down with bullets in their bodies; none of the had been killed, but if he'd had his way none of them would've gotten hurt in the first place. And Nakamori--

He still remembered seeing the flash on the rooftop as the rifle-barrel had shifted slightly to the left; in that frozen, fleeting second he had known they weren't aiming for him, and all he could think of was NOT AOKO'S DAD--!!

All humor gone now, he sighed and scratched irritably at the back of his head, being careful not to upset his wig (this on-campus persona had dark auburn hair, freckles, a fair skin and brown eyes; the contacts were a bit itchy too, though the wire-framed glasses were okay. 'Takinada Minato' tended towards sweatshirts and faded jeans and stood a good five centimeters taller than one Kuroba Kaito, high-school student.) This next heist could very well be as much of a problem as the last, and he knew it. But at least Nakamori was prepared this time.

There was nothing Kaito could really do but keep his eyes open, really.

As he reached the building that housed the jewelry exhibit, the exhilaration began to bubble back up inside him; there was something so-- so-- hell, he needed a word here: exciting? thrilling? No, not quite right, but something like that-- about planning a heist. Walking around, going about his business like a good little innocent bystander… and all the while knowing that tonight this would happen here, and that would happen over there...

And nobody else but him knew. Not yet, in any case... and oh, wouldn't that change soon.

If he couldn't find a word, someday he'd have to make one up, just to fit the feeling of anticipation-nervousness-confidence-fear-euphoria that came with simply being Kaitou Kid, several hours before pulling a job. And, of course, there was that newly added flavor of terror as well, brought about by snipers' bullets... He had to keep that in mind as well; it was too damned easy to get cocky.

Oh well.

He shrugged to himself, shifting the strap of the nylon camera-bag on his shoulder-- it kept getting tangled with his backpack-- and slipping his camera out. It was an older model, one that had belonged to his dad; a pretty good piece of equipment, really, just the sort of thing a guy with a Photo Journalism major might be using, nothing flashy or unaffordable… it never hurt to have the right props. It never hurt to have a specially-designed camera that took photos from no less than four apertures at one time, either: straight ahead as usual, but also straight up and to either side as well. You just had to load the film very carefully, aim correctly, and keep your thumbs out of the pictures.

Minato shoved his glasses up his nose, stepping back a bit to get a proper picture of the building for what he would have assured any askers was a somewhat boring assignment that he really didn't want to be doing anyway, not when he could be out taking pictures of something more interesting. But a grade was a grade, right? So Minato-san snapped one or two pictures, then plunked up the steps into the cool interior.

Glass cases in the main room and in the left-hand wing, all filled with the fine gleam and glitter of polished stone and metal-- European, Asian, you name it. Not a bad exhibit at all; 'ethnicity' was big this year, so a lot of unusual cultural groups were being covered by this display from all over the world. Minato edged his way through the moderate crowds, taking the occasional picture and scribbling down notes on the exhibit flyer he had picked up on the way in. Nobody paid him much attention, which was fine with him; he just wanted to take his pics and go do something more interesting.

Besides, he had already seen it all before... at about four a.m. that morning, to be precise, when he had entered the building via one of the overhead skylights to prepare any number of exciting little surprises. But he hadn't been Minato then, now had he?

Nope.

Minato wandered over to the main prize of the exhibit, which sparkled importantly on its glass-enclosed pedestal: The Rose Tiara, a fanciful nineteenth-century piece of gaudiness that had once graced the coiffure of a Belgian princess before the First World War. It was a pretty thing, as such things went; the leaves and flowers were shaped out of silver and heavily encrusted with diamonds, all centering and surrounding a single, several-karat stone in the center. Pretty, if distinctly gaudy…

Now what would make the best shot? Minato surveyed his angles, frowning just a little. He drew back a step or two, raising the camera...

c-c-c-click! Minato grinned to himself; his camera sounded like it was working perfectly today.

Fifteen minutes later the young student had enough pictures to satisfy even the toughest professor (not to mention a lovely, well-lit compendium of how the cases were placed.) He even had a couple of excellent shots of Nakamori, staring nervously up at the clock over the main display. Two hours and seventeen minutes to go... The exhibit would officially close for the day at six p.m., but doubtless the guards would be there 'round the clock. Poor guys-- he hoped somebody would bring them lunch from someplace other than the college cafeteria; the food there was really terrible .

Taking a final picture of the artfully-laid-out arrangement of cases (and a couple of rather crooked views of the central skylight overhead, plus the east and west exit-doors) Minato spared a glance for the neglected right-hand wing of the exhibit hall. Not many people in there this afternoon, but it wasn't really a very exciting exhibit, was it? And it had been going on for the past two weeks, too-- if you were really motivated by astronomy you might find the collection of tektites, meteorites and other natural space debris exciting, but it wasn't as downright sparkly as the gems that took up the bulk of the building's first-floor space.

Nope, not much to see there, and there weren't many guards, either. Nice skylight overhead, though... in fact, it matched the one in the left-hand wing exactly.

Carefully stowing his camera away with a satisfied air and a pat, Minato wandered over past several watchful policemen into the part of the exhibit which held the older, less flashy gems: a set of Victorian mourning jewelry all done in jet, a fine display of Navajo turquoise, the dowry of an East Indian princess...

He smiled at that last, admiring the way the light gleamed off the central pendant; it was a nice bit of work, an emerald set in silver, shaped like a teardrop. Maybe it wasn't the clearest stone in the world (there was, to his discerning eye, a definite haze to the center) but the Akuti's Eye, as it was called, was kind of pretty, wasn't it? You could just imagine it hanging in the center of its original owner's forehead. She had supposedly been a foreign noblewoman of some kind according to the stories; her green-eyed, exotic beauty had attracted the attention of the local Maharaja, and eventually she had ended up as his wife. The pendant had reputedly come with her from her home somewhere or other, and there were all sorts of rumors about it... like, for instance, the one that said that it could heal all ills and even make a man live forever...

Not that these rumors were easy to find; in fact, they weren't even online anywhere. But if you knew who to talk to, well-- it was amazing just what you could find out. And being able to sneak into certain private libraries didn't hurt, either.

But you know, people depend too much on computers nowadays; it wouldn't kill them to crack open the occasional book when they do their research, now would it? For instance, if they had taken the trouble to check things out really carefully they might have discovered that 'Akuti' means 'Princess' in Hindustani'. Minato smirked at that, then paused and cocked his head to one side; huh. Whoever had set up the exhibit hadn't been very careful, had they? He could see a slight stain underneath the pendant, marring the whiteness of the velvet backing. How tacky; what were they trying to do, make it look like he was stealing from second-class exhibits? Didn't they CARE about appearances?

Muttering under his breath about clumsy, cack-handed museum personnel (after all, a photographer wants only the best shots, right?), Minato shrugged and headed for the exit. On the way, the occasional surreptitious glance showed him nothing unusual-looking at all about the overhead lights, which was, of course, just as it should be. Nope; nothing unusual or noticeable there at all! No fingerprints, no funny wires, no odd attachments, no teeny little heat-sensitive explosive cartridges. Nothing interesting to see here, move along, move along...

Minato grinned slightly, adjusting the set of his glasses as he thudded down the outside steps. There was a nice little ramen place just off campus, close enough to get a bite to eat at before things got moving-- he'd have to make it fast, since he still had to lay out his photos (and wasn't it nice that they were self-developing, just like the old Kodak ones? Oyaji had really known his stuff.) Under his breath, the young man hummed the chorus to the song he had been singing earlier while the words ran through his mind:

"For it all, for it all, what you're aching for--
Where the magic's real and you're like a fire in the sky,
Where the deal calls for a sacrifice, and you know you cannot die--
For the edge the best ones live on, for it all."

He hurried his pace a little, thinking about ramen noodles, emeralds and the best magic trick of all.

* * *

...and then it was Friday.

It had been a quiet day for most of Beika. There had been eleven auto accidents (no fatalities, though several major injuries), one hit-and-run, three armed robberies (two foiled on the spot, one with a security guard hospitalized and no leads as yet), and someone's pet cat had decided to take a nap on a subway track and the trains were being held up while Animal Services sent somebody down to remove the sleeping feline before it became rail pizza. Inspector Nakamori Ginzo had spent the day alternately snapping at all and sundry and stewing in his particular recipe for Pre-Heist Ancipation, which required generous measurements of both nervous tension, deeply-hidden glee and at least one borrowed cigarette. His daughter Aoko had passed her school hours in a state of annoyance with That Stupid Baka/Kaito, who was being particularly difficult; Hakuba Saguru had spent his own being as pissed off as his severe self-control would allow, as he had learned of the current heist-note far too late to be allowed any presence whatsoever (and WHY had this one only been sent to Nakamori? That was, in his opionion, very odd.)

And Kuroba Kaito?

He'd smiled. A lot. All day. But otherwise, he'd been very, very calm.

The sun was getting ready to call it a day and head home itself, and a little girl propped her chin in her hands and her elbows on her balcony rail; half-drowsy with the long, bright hours behind her, Ayumi idly watched as the streetlights below flickered and came on. Her roses were really doing well; already there were new buds at the tips of the branches, and the fragrance of the blooms that had opened over the last few days was strong enough to overcome the city-scents of exhaust and warm asphalt.

She yawned; behind her the bedroom door creaked open. "Ayumi-chan? I'm leaving now… Are you sure you don't mind my going off this weekend?" Her mother sounded worried, and the child turned to enter the room, sliding the door shut behind her. "If there was any way I could get out of this trip, I would, but my office doesn't have anyone else they can send--"

Ayumi shook her head with another yawn. "It's okay, Kaasan… will you bring me back something nice?" Her mother laughed, nodding resignedly with a roll of her eyes. "Is Rita-kun here yet? and can I stay up late to watch that movie I asked you about, pleeeeease? said that if I cleaned my room yesterday, you'd let me--"

Her mother held up a hasty hand to forestall her daughter's entreaties. "Yes, I said so, and yes, I've told Rita you can stay up; but you have to go right to bed afterwards, okay?" Rita-kun was the teenaged daughter of an American family living three doors down; she often stayed with Ayumi when her mother's business took her out of town. The easy-going young woman got along well with the child, quite often allowing her to stay up a bit later than the usual with nothing said.

The little girl nodded, hugging her mother around the waist; "I promise. Have a good time, Kaasan, and bring me a GOOD present, please?"

Her mother chuckled and leaned down to drop a kiss on top of her daughter's head; she tickled the little girl's neck, making her jump. "And what would you call a 'good' present, 'Yumi-chan? Maybe some chocolate, or a new book?" The child squirmed, giggling and trying to tickle her mother back; the taller woman laughed again, her own giggles sounding remarkably like her daughter's as she attempted to evade the small fingers.

"Nooooo… Can you bring me-- something about magic?" The child dodged backwards, still laughing; her mother paused with one eyebrow quirking up at the odd request.

"Magic? You mean-- oh, like that coin-trick you showed me?" Her daughter had apparently learned it from one of her friends; Yoshida Miiri had been suitably impressed (and actually a little surprised at her child's ingenuity.) "I suppose I could see if there are any magic shops around the Convention Center… and if I can't find you a kit or something, maybe I can find you a book on beginner's tricks. How does that sound?"

The little girl beamed at her. "Bingo!"

Her mother cocked her head to one side, slightly surprised and amused. "'Bingo' Where on earth did you get THAT expression? From school?"

Her daughter just giggled again, hopping up on her bed and laying back with her hands clasped behind her dark head. "Can't tell you…. It's a secret," she teased, propping one ankle up on her opposite knee in a most unladylike fashion. "Have fun, Kaasan… Oyasumi!"

"Oyasumi, 'Yumi-chan." The woman left the room, picking up her light suitcase from the hall as she went.

From the living room the little girl could hear Rita discussing the weekend's schedule with her mother; the door opened and closed. Ayumi yawned a third time, reaching around under her pillow to pull out a slightly dog-eared library book; rolling onto her stomach she propped herself up and began to read half-aloud: "'The Disappearing Knot Trick-Step one...'"

When Kaasan came back, she planned to surprise her--that'd be fun! And maybe she'd even be able to surprise Hei-san too...

"'First, you'll need a length of cotton rope and a handkerchief...'" As she turned the page, the brightly-colored clock beside her bed ticked quietly on. The time was 6:15 p.m.

* * *

Several kilometers west, a young woman worked on her homework at the kitchen table; now and then she would stop to think about a question, and when she did her fingers would occasionally wander up to the silver pendant hanging around her neck. The delicate leaves and stems were soothing to trace, and if she occasionally drifted off into other thoughts than Economics, she had reason.

She stretched a little, leaning back in her chair; Aoko had been hard at work for the past hour or so, and she was nearly done. Economics... WHY would anybody want to be an economist, anyway? Boring job. From where she sat she could see Kaito's house out the window-partially obscured, of course, by the white fuzzball that currently occupied the window's narrow ledge above the sink.

"Spot? Get down from there-- you know you're not supposed to be in the kitchen..." The kitten merely blinked at her and began to wash a paw with the supreme indifference native to Felis Domesticus. With a sigh, Aoko stood up and reached for her pet, who adroitly avoided her fingers and leaped sproing-poing- pounce! onto her scatter of papers, knocking her pencil off the table. The pencil became the next cat-toy, batted across the floor as the laughing girl tried to catch her kitten. Scooping up the errant feline as well as her writing implement, Aoko plopped down cross-legged onto the floor to stroke Spot's soft fur with a gentle hand.

"Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…." She smiled to herself, glancing up at the window again; from here she could see Kaito's rooftop, and it reminded her of another rooftop the previous week.

Kaito had purred like that too, almost, even though he had done nothing really but sit there beside her with a goofy grin on his face. The memory warmed Aoko both on her cheekbones and deep inside.

For a few moments more they sat there, the girl and her cat; then Aoko sighed, rising to her feet to finish her homework. Dinner soon; she was getting hungry. Spot jumped from her arms to the floor, glancing meaningfully towards the cabinet where the kitty-crunchies were stored, then giving what some might have construed as a sigh (that is, if cats sighed.) He waved his tail impatiently, then turned his attention to sharpening his claws on a table-leg.

The clock over the kitchen table read 6:18 p.m.

* * *

Nakamori checked his watch, checked the watch of the officer behind him, and then checked the clock hanging overhead for the umpteenth time that evening; still a few minutes to go. @#$%!! Chomping angrily on another stick of gum (he'd already sent an office clerk out to buy several dozen packs that day), the Inspector began to go down his mental checklist: Guards in place, cameras ready, exits sealed...

His watch read 6:20 p.m.

* * *

Halfway across the city, Edogawa Conan paused, frowning, as he typed in a last command on his keyboard. Leaning over the back of his chair and resting her chin on his shoulder, the little girl behind him made an indignant little noise. "Shinichi, are you-- you are. You're hacking again! I thought you said you were going to stop that--"

He shot her an embarrassed and slightly contrite look (but only slightly) over one shoulder, sliding his glasses off and tossing them onto the desk beside the mousepad. "I know, I know, but… this is about Kid, and-- well, look--" Rin peered at the screen, her scowl gradually changing to astonished dismay.

"... Shinichi? Is this… really Inspector Nakamori's personal notes--? If you get caught, you're going to be in SO much trouble--" Fascinated, she scrolled down the text.

The boy in the chair shook his head. "See this?" One finger tapped at the screen, indicating three lines; at first glance they made very little sense. "If this is what I think it is, he's the one in a lot of trouble. Rin--" and his eyes darkened, "--from what I can tell, I'm not the first person to hack into this file. Somebody else got here first."

Himitsu Rin blinked, then leaned a little forward to read: "'Lacus, palus, mare and rille, seen entire and unhidden'..."

The tiny numerals at the right-hand corner of the monitor read 6:23 p.m.

* * *

And in a quiet little alcove two roofs over from the building where the display was being held...

The jacket went on, buttoned carefully over the blue shirt; pockets were checked for various paraphernalia and equipment, then settled into place with a shake of the shoulders.

Crimson tie. Cardgun. Smoke-bombs. Flash-grenades. And so many, many other things, identifiable and not.

White gloves, almost ghostly in the dim light of sunset, made sure that the glider-pack on the shoulder was working correctly; a thin, billowing cloak of tightly-woven, chemically-treated silk was adjusted almost reverently to its wearer's satisfaction.

Top hat, monocle and four-leaf-clover charm; a Poker Face slid into place with an almost audible snap. The shadows seemed to gather close around, wrapping its wearer in a friendly, familiar embrace, cool and sweet with the promise of the evening...

Showtime.

* * * * *

NOTE:  Much of the first few chapters will be seen through a child's eyes (Ayumi's) and so will be a lot gentler than what happens later; the 'graphic depictions of violence' warning is there for a reason, but 'graphic' doesn't have to mean 'gratuitous.'  Just thought I'd say.

Chapter Text

Friday, 6:29pm and counting...

It's the waiting that's the hardest, really.

Think of things from a cop's perspective-- oh, not from the viewpoint of anybody as elevated or important as an Inspector or anything like that; no, consider how things look when you're a lowly rookie fresh on your very first Kaitou Kid watch.

All the others have been telling you stories, priming you-- and although you know that a lot of the stuff you've heard is total bullshit (nobody can walk through walls or turn to smoke; he doesn't have fangs and glowing eyes; and if they think you'll believe that pile of crap about him flying off on a broom that one time, they need their heads examined), you're beginning to worry as the minutes tick by...

...and the sun begins to set, and the scheduled time gets closer and closer (what the hell kind of absolute nutcase TELLS you when he's coming to steal something? That's just wrong.)

... and the Inspector gets more and more antsy. You'd almost think the guy was waiting for a date, the way he gets to pacing and checking every clock or watch within sight. He's nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and it makes your hands sweat and your fists clench.

The exhibit's closed now, and it's just about time. One of the things the guys told you at the bar last night was that the Kid is never late; he's always there when those stupid riddles say he'll be, laughing like a maniac. The laughter, now, that's what they say unnerves you, makes you lose it and charge the bastard-- anything to stop the laughter. Criminals aren't supposed to laugh; they're supposed to get caught in the act and then do their damnedest to get away, NOT grin at you, grab what they came for and then disappear in a puff of smoke.

(He can't really do that, can he? And now the sweat is running down the back of your neck.)

It's time.

And...

...suddenly the freaking lights go out ("Ahh, SHIT!!" the Inspector mutters) and then you hear the laughter--

*

From Nakamori's point of view, the whole evening started out bad and went downhill from there. He had once heard a visiting American investigator describe a total fiasco as a "goat-rope" (apparently derived from the attempt to drag more than one goat to market, all tied to the same length of rope and heading in every possible direction at one and the same time); for some reason the expression had stuck in his mind as a valid description for that crystal-clear moment when you realize that absolutely everything is going up the tubes...

Sure enough, this was a goat-rope.

To begin with, everybody's nerves had been on edge; they all knew that the Phantom Thief would be there on time, but there was just this little problem: he might be the man beside you. Or the noise behind you. Or that guy you had just talked with ten minutes before. Or he might be hiding six inches away, right there yet somehow unseen...

DAMN him!! If he was a regular criminal he'd be locked in a cell by now-- Hell, the biggest question here is whether or not he ought to be jailed or packed off to a rubber room! What kind of lunatic wears a white suit and a cape to steal in? It was an old line of conjecture, one that Nakamori had used to entertain himself with for years, his own personal worry-stone. Why DID Kid wear white? Sometimes he wondered privately if, the first time the bastard had stolen anything, all his black gear had been at the cleaners.

Whatever. So there they were, jittery and tired of waiting. The transfer-out rate of the Kaitou Kid Taskforce tended to be on the high side.

Six-twenty-eight p.m. The sun was setting, and the shadows had already crept past the skylight overhead. The Inspector scowled at the brilliant overhead lighting; the room was fully illuminated, so--

Why the hell does it feel like it's getting--

BANG!

He yelped; all around him people instinctively flinched and ducked their heads. There was a split-second of a pause, and then--

BANG!BANG!BANG-BANG!!BANG-BANG-BANG!!!

--as the fluorescent lightbulbs overhead EXPLODED into thousands upon thousands of splinters, raining in all directions amid the outcries of the squadmembers below.

--DARK in here?   Slipping on shards of glass, Nakamori snarled an animalistic snarl and switched on the flashlight he had stowed in one pocket. All across the room lights came on as his men gathered their wits and shook the glass from their clothing. "Anyone hurt?" the Inspector called out sharply; he relaxed slightly at the shaky negative replies as he swung the beam of his flashlight upwards towards the clock behind the main display case.

Six-thirty p.m. exactly... The hands of the clock seemed to pay homage to the glittering tiara in the case as the beams of multiple flashlights glared off every facet; they bowed.

The dim afterglow of sunset filtering in through the skylights should've been some help; as men all around him cursed, yelped and slid in the unseen minefield of broken glass, he caught himself on the shoulder of the officer beside him (who seemed to be muttering a continual litany of "crapcrapcrap--") and glared wildly up at the ceiling...

...and the sheets of total blackness where there should have been glass and evening sky...

The laughter came then, and the cool, amused and-above-all-familiar voice above the crunch of glass and the angry, nervous clamor:

"Good evening, gentlemen, Nakamori-keibu! So glad you could join me..."  The Inspector wheeled about--

Kaitou Kid was standing behind him, balanced as securely as a cat on top of the glass display case; below his feet, the Rose Tiara sparkled almost mockingly as pure white flashed in a multiplicity of tiny reflections, scattering miniature rainbows through the glare of flashlight-beams and shadows. The rainbows glittered across his white cloak, sparkling it with stars as he bowed; "I appreciate your keeping such a close watch on my prize-- we wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?"  The Phantom Thief chuckled softly, the sound somehow carrying over the surrounding chaos.

"GET HIM!"

A large number of squadmembers charged, slipped and skidded forward through the welter of glass in a less than successful version of the usual 'Dogpile-On-The-Bandit' routine; Nakamori hung back for a change, fumbling with something in his pocket as the white figure seemed to drop down and disappear…

…only to pop back up like a jack-in-the-box from behind the pillar.  With a sweep of one white-clad arm he simultaneously knocked over the tall case on top of the scrambling heap of uniformed bodies and snatched something very glittery out of mid-air as it tumbled towards the floor--

--the Rose Tiara. With another laugh the thief vaulted over a body or two, nimbly evading the hands that clutched at him from the floor as he darted towards the left-hand wing where the rest of the jewels were. Alarms were now echoing throughout the building, adding to the general madhouse-effect of darkness, flashing lights, and broken glass; with a roar, Nakamori shoved his way forwards and drew back his arm.

"EAT THIS, you SONOFABITCH!" The small oval object hurtled from his fist in a lovely trajectory straight towards the figure in white--

--who simply yanked off his top hat, catching the projectile neatly and lobbing it back in an arc that any Jai Alai player would be proud of. The small object went flying through the air towards the Inspector, who cursed again and ducked as it impacted on a nearby pedestal, releasing a cloud of something horribly pungent (and, fortunately, localized) that made the nearest unfortunate squadmembers cough and choke, wiping furiously at their eyes.

The Phantom Thief paused for half a second, clapping his hat back onto his head. "Diluted teargas? Tsk, tsk, TSK, Inspector; how unsportsmanlike of you. But if you're going to start bringing out your toys--" and several round silvery spheres suddenly seemed to materialize in his hands, "--I suppose it's only fair for me to show you a few of mine, ne?"

Nakamori winced internally as he caught his balance. Uh oh… Beside him he heard the squadmember he had fallen against (the newest rookie, he noted absently) moan "We are SO screwed."

Someone to the Inspector's left slid on the glass and went down; their flashlight went skittering across the floor in a spin that flashed light-dark-light-dark-light-dark across the room in a surreal strobelight effect--

flash: A white-gloved hand sent the silver spheres dancing across the tops of the glass cases.

flash: Tiny explosions went off, blam!-blamblam!!-blam! where they impacted (More fucking glass-- SHITshitshit! thought Nakamori.) Display cases all over the darkened room shed their transparent shells like so many hatching eggs, the fragments seeming to move in jerky stop-motion.

flash: And through it all, the white figure spun and whirled, laughing and laughing and goddamn laughing-- he moved like a cat on rollerskates, dodging the hands that reached for him as he dove into the maelstrom of shattering and falling razory shards without fear. He seemed to dance through the glittering, flashing darkness without apparent effort, his cloak swirling and obscuring exactly what he was doing--

With a yowl like a scalded cat, Nakamori leaped after him in a sort of sliding run. He knew he had cut his hands at some point (and a tiny portion of his brain wondered just why Kid was doing so much property damage this time) though the pain had yet to register-- they were slippery where he grabbed at a pedestal for balance-- but as chunks and sliding plates crunched and shifted dangerously underfoot, he lunged between two cascades of glass and grabbed at a flutter of white, yanking hard.

He might as well have grasped at smoke. The tantalizing flicker of the thief's cloak slid out of his grip like so much vapor, and as the spinning flashlight came to a halt he realized that his quarry was more than ten feet away and moving rapidly towards--

Goddammit, I was RIGHT! RRRRGH! -- towards the only item in the room with a peculiar history of rumored magical powers and mysterious origins: a green pendent of some sort; his pet researcher had dug up the dirt on it the night before. I knew it, I KNEW it! and now I'VE GOT THE BASTARD!

Nakamori was no idiot; there had been times enough in the past when a hunch had played through beautifully, when that little itch deep inside had been the hammer that nailed a perp… so he hadn't ignored his suspicions this time either. As the Phantom Thief reached out to pluck his prize from the gleaming, dangerous pile of glass shards, a sudden alien sound burst forth against the alarms' clamor:

SSSSSSSSSSSSS ...

Near-invisible in the broken light, a gaseous cloud spewed forth from beneath the velvet where the jewel had lain; Kid yelped slightly, jerking back and clapping one hand over his nose and mouth. Advancing (but not too quickly), the Inspector laughed triumphantly even as he scrambled for footing on the slippery floor. "What's wrong? Where're all those smart-ass remarks? Got a little problem, huh? --WHAT?!?"

The Phantom Thief was standing upright in the swirling gas, unaffected. And even from where he stood, Nakamori could feel his own eyes begin to water and his skin burn...

"Tear gas again? Was there a sale somewhere that I missed?  You really ARE getting playful, though, aren't you, Nakamori-keibu?  Eyedrops, skin treatments, a little chemical alteration of one's clothing... Beauty treatments are entirely affordable these days, you should try them. Amazing what they can do to keep one in continued good health..." Through the stinging haze he could see that the thief had pulled his cloak up across his face; he seemed to be having no trouble with the gas, and soft laughter rang through the cloudy darkness. "You don't really think I'd use so many gas-grenades myself without having a defense close at hand, do you? Try again." He fanned the mist away; the green pendent disappeared somewhere within the shadows and swirl of whiteness as Kid dodged a flailing squadmember (the rookie, again, that one was a keeper.) By then, though, the rest of the Task Force had caught up with their leader and were piling into the room with many curses over the maze of broken glass.

A gleam of white teeth crossed the shadowy face below the monocle as the Phantom Thief took in the oncoming crowd of Tokyo's Finest, all swearing, slipping and yelping as the occasional shard took exception to their presence. “Tsk; just like a pack of dogs, all after one bone.” He turned back to the Inspector and bowed mockingly. "Allow me to congratulate you on your foresight; you're beginning to understand, aren't you?" As Nakamori growled and began to move menacingly forward he held up one white finger and shook his head warningly. "Ah-ah-ahhh... don't; you should know better by now that laying hands on me is NOT a good idea. And as for your new understanding… have you ever heard the old saying that 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?'"

That made him pause; a sudden sharp memory of men falling around him in a fusillade of gunfire halted the Inspector in his tracks. The enraged man waved an arm at his advancing army and snarled out, "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

The top-hatted figure before him shrugged, his cloak drifting around him as he slowly began to walk forward; barely ten feet separated them now, but he seemed unconcerned. "Just that you had better be a little more careful now. One never knows just who may be watching... and I'm not the only one chasing after mysterious gems. You've figured out something, I think, and you've drawn a third party's attention." At Nakamori's start of astonishment Kid nodded, his monocle flashing; he took another step and then another . "I see you understand-- and neither of us wants a firefight like the last time, do we? You should be glad that I'm on the side of the angels."

The cool voice warmed with amusement during the last phrase, and the Inspector felt his jaw drop. Side of the angels? "What the HELL are you talking abou--"

But the thief was moving, taking off from his slow pace forward into a sudden charge (how the #$%@!!was he keeping from sliding all over the place like the rest of them?) towards the oncoming squad; with a "HUP!" he did something intricate and acrobatic, seeming to spring sideways and ricochet off of a pedestal upwards. Suddenly the air was entirely too full of Phantom Thief as he vaulted up onto the shoulders of the nearest uniformed body--

"S'cuse me! Coming through! Lady with a baby! Schnell, macht platzen!! Gangway!!!"

--and he was, basically, bouncing from shoulder ("AACK!!") to head ("OW!!") to pedestal (crunch!) to back ("DAMMIT!!"), trompling his way across and over the too-tightly packed crowd of squadmembers before they could do a thing. Cape streaming behind him, he was suddenly back in the central display room, scattering another handful of his damned silver spheres across the floor this time as he went, a large one this time--

BAMMM!!! BAMM-BANG-BAMMBAMMBAMM!!! BANG!BANG!BANGBANGBANGBANG--

Glass flew everywhere; it was total chaos, and there just wasn't enough light to see by. Nakamori swore as Kid's laughter seemed to make the shards around him dance. "Son of a bitch, you--" The Inspector began to vent a stream of invective that scorched the air blue; from his perch atop the pedestal that had once housed the Rose Tiara, the Phantom Thief cocked his head to one side and listened with interest.

He shook his head again. "Such language-- and you've got me pegged all wrong, too; the side of the angels, remember?" Kid's monocle gleamed like a spotlight. "What's wrong, Inspector?  Don't you believe in angels?  No--? Then allow me..."

...to enlighten you..."

A white-gloved hand whipped up and out towards the skylight above the shattered jewelry cases; something shaped for all the world like a hand-sized Frisbee ricocheted off the glass, popped into a sphere and dropped towards the floor--

LIGHT!

Nakamori and his Task Force yelped, shading their eyes as brilliance suddenly flared into life; their dark-accustomed eyes were blinded, and suddenly the air was full of the sound of even MORE breaking glass and what seemed like thousands of wings, flapping and flapping and flapping-- Hands clapped over his eyes, the Inspector felt feathers brush against him as something went by his head with a swoosh; the room seemed to be full of flight as well as light.

And heat , too... you couldn't exactly ignore the heat. The blazing ball of fire that had smashed the skylight dropped to the floor, waves of fiery warmth emitting from it; with a ratcheting click-click-click-SSSSSHHHHH, the overhead sprinklers suddenly popped into action, adding a heavy spray of cold water to the misery.

The Inspector cursed again. As if we needed something else...

"Oyasumi, Nakamori-keibu! Keep away from the cigarettes!" Through streaming, watering eyes the Inspector could dimly make out a white blur heading into the opposite room, dodging between two gray bulks that were undoubtedly some of the meteorites on display. And the clues came together inside his head, too late, and he groaned. 'The wings of angels-- the astronomy exhibit in the building's right-hand wing-- astronomy... the heavens... angels... The Angels' Wing-- AAAAAHHHGHH!

I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!

But it really was too late. He saw one blurry white arm reach upwards, heard the distinctive KPOW! of that goddamn card-gun and a sudden, noisy sound of even MORE breaking glass (Oh, GODdammit) as the blacked-out skylight overhead gave way. Kid was well to one side, balancing on top of another rock or something (he seemed to have a talent for not being where the glass landed); as the dim late-sunset light suddenly filled the room, something-a rope? a rope ladder?-- dropped down with the glass, and Kid was moving, up and…

...and gone, a clean getaway out onto the roof. Nakamori was practically frothing at the mouth by now; pushing his way through the last clump of soggy, struggling uniforms, he half-ran-half-fell past cases of rocks and models of the Solar System towards the rear exit. #$#$!! I AM NOT LETTING HIM GET AWAY THIS TIME--- Dimly aware that his men were beginning to make their way into the room behind him, the Inspector grabbed the knob, yanked and staggered out into the courtyard between the two wings of the building--

And that was the moment that all hell truly broke loose.

*

Got 'em, got 'em, GOOOOOOT 'em! Kaitou Kid crowed internally as he pulled himself up onto the roof amid a cloud of escaping doves; he tugged his hat down a little tighter onto his head and slid the control that would activate his hanglider from his sleeve into his palm.  Below him he could hear Nakamori-keibu's steady stream of invective dopple past as the angry man charged towards the back door.  Too slow as usual, so sorry! But you're getting smarter, aren't you?  Good; dangerous for you, but good. He spared half a second to mime a salute in his opponent's general direction, then turned to peer over the edge of the roof.

A gust of wind tugged at his hat as he leaned over a bit to see a dozen or so of the taskforce milling confusedly below in the courtyard, about twice what he would have expected but still, not bad; he glanced up at the cloudy sky, nodding in approval-- for once there were no helicopters. They must've expected me to leave on foot and added some extra staff tonight; this building doesn't look high enough for a good takeoff, does it?  Pity they didn't consider the updraft from the fans at the campus engineering plant only a couple hundred meters away--  He had watched the local birds making use of the mammoth currents of warm air the last time he had been on campus; they were easily strong enough to lift his glider way, way up beyond gunshot-range. And speaking of which… Where was the trouble he had been expecting? No snipers, no black-clad villains in the bushes, no mysterious figures with night-vision goggles--

Kid sighed; all that extra property damage he had caused, and it hadn't even been necessary!  He had figured that making it difficult to move around would keep the majority of the squadmembers inside the building and safe from extraneous gunfire if the shit hit the fan again, and anybody outside'd be picked up by the sentries that Nakamori'd surely set... but it looked like he'd been paranoid; nobody was moving around down below but cops, cops and more cops.

Sure hope nobody got cut too badly; at least that first little 'bang!' of mine made 'em all duck so the splinters from the lights didn't land in their faces.  The sound of a door opening below heralded the Inspector's arrival into the courtyard; Kid grinned, shook his head, and reached for his hanglider control.  Have a nice evening, Nakamori-keibu; we'll have to do this again sometime sooooohhWHATthehell--

One of the cops below him had just pulled a gun and was drawing a bead on the Inspector.

Most Japanese cops didn't even carry guns, just detectives and higher. WHAT was-- Oh, SHIT!  Before he even realized what he was doing, Kid found himself pulling the trigger on his own card-gun; the scream below him carried quite well as the gunman found himself with a reinforced Nine of Clubs embedded in the back of his hand. Nakamori had frozen where he stood, and now MORE uniformed figures were pulling out guns and turning towards him--

And the door to the museum clicked shut behind him, swinging into place with a sound that said 'I'm locked!' Or, possibly, 'You're doomed!'

It was a story-and-a-half drop from the roof; Kid made it easily, landing hard on the shoulders of the nearest gunman as the first shots were fired.  Nakamori was already diving for a nearby piece of statuary for cover; the courtyard was only dimly lit, and as the Phantom Thief punched the struggling figure beneath him hard in the gut he could see several of the squadmembers beginning to attack the shooters--

Good, he thought distantly as he avoided a swing; they're not all assassins, there must've been a few real cops out here too.  He yanked a fistful of his cape out of his opponent's grasp, then sent a hard elbow straight into the other's nose; it shattered with an audible crunch, and the man went down with a gurgling cry.

Just as well-hand-to-hand combat's not exactly one of my strong points, no matter how I make it seem. Now WHERE's-- Aagh!  Several shots pinged off the wall behind him; Kid yelped, diving for cover behind a chunk of something large and solid.

If the scene inside the museum had been bad, this was worse; all over the courtyard he could see the flash of gunfire, could hear cursing and outcries and the fumbling thuds of bodies as they struggled with one another. Several figures lay on the ground, and there was no way to tell who was who.  It was a madhouse and the stink of cordite was everywhere, carried by the rising wind.

Dammit-- this was between Them and me-- Why can't they just chase me and leave everybody else out of it?  The thief groaned to himself, sinking down more securely behind the piece of Modern Art that was currently keeping him from getting his head blown off.  Gloved fingers ran lightly across his pockets and the other concealed compartments on his person as he considered what to do next--

--only to hear a horrifyingly familiar clickCLICK! sound right beside his head. "Don't even think of moving," hissed Inspector Nakamori Ginzo from the other side of his gun.

“........” said the thief, momentarily speechless.

They had both, apparently, chosen the same refuge, like a rabbit and a weasel both diving for the same bolt-hole under the attack of a hawk. The Inspector's furious eyes stared past the barrel of his firearm into the Phantom Thief's shadowy face; they were so close that Kid could see his own monocled reflection in the man's pupils.

His white-clad fingers closed beneath his cloak on what felt like a regular, non-heat-emitting flash-grenade… and hesitated. If he set it off, he'd get away-- but Nakamori would be blinded, easy prey for the unknown assassins who were still firing across the courtyard.

Can't do that; can't let Aoko's dad get offed, no way, no how.  Gotta think of something else--

'Something Else' presented itself in the next second as a volley of shots ricocheted off the marble just above their heads, making them both duck as stone chips showered everywhere. "Motherf--" snarled the Inspector; "Goddammit!"  hissed the thief. Both dropped belly-down, lying nearly nose-to-nose on the grass behind the statue.

Wonderful. Just freaking WONDERFUL. Bullets flying, enemies all over the place, and I'm stuck back here with somebody who wants nothing more in the whole wide world than to get me into handcuffs.  WHY me? Aren't I a good little thief?  He rolled his eyes, wincing as another shower of marble-chips rattled down around them.  Oh joy; and now I've got to get the Inspector to see reason before we BOTH get our heads blown off.

*

It was very dark behind the chunk of statuary where the two targets had taken refuge.  Nakamori fumbled with his gun and tried to line it back up with his quarry, who rolled his eyes and snapped out, "Will you STOP that?  We've got a hell of a lot more important things to think about right now than whether or not you catch me or I get away!"  The Inspector ignored him; Kid muttered something uncomplimentary beneath his breath and reached across to thump the man right between his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "Hello ! Are you hearing me, Nakamori-keibu? There are bullets flying, cops are getting hurt, and you're STILL trying to catch me? Look around, you idiot!"

The outraged man tried to swat at him, swearing vociferously, but the thief caught his fist in a tight, white-gloved grasp. "Pay attention, Inspector!  We're in trouble, or haven't you noticed?  Your men are going down!"

THAT finally caught his attention.  Breathing hard, the Inspector pulled himself up a little to peer past the base of the statue.  Several meters away, a number of officers from the Task Force were staging a holding action at the museum door (they had finally gotten it back open again), but he could see at least one figure on the ground at their feet. Across the clearing several more bodies lay prone, and it was impossible to tell whether or not they were friend or foe in the darkness.  Another pair of shots echoed off the marble, causing the man to drop back to his face again.

"Satisfied?  Good. Now why don't we both try to get out of this ALIVE before we go back to playing Cops And Robbers?"

The Phantom Thief's sardonic words made Nakamori snarl, but the Inspector nodded angrily.  "FINE," he bit out, the words coming hard.  "So, got any bright ideas how to stop your friends?  They're after you, aren't they?"  He checked his pockets for ammo clips, wondering if he had enough; bullets weren't usually necessary equipment on a Kid watch…  At least the sonofabitch doesn't usually try to damage anybody-- he could if he wanted to, that damned cardgun of his'd be enough, but…  As he palmed a full clip the Inspector jerked his chin towards the figures in the courtyard, who had apparently grouped together behind some sort of statuary display; the occasional fireflash and report showed that they hadn't given up yet. "Well, aren't they?"

The shadowy figure nodded grimly, his monocle flashing. "Correct-- except now they want you dead as well, Nakamori-keibu.  I believe the phrase from the gangster movies is 'You know too much,' hm? I'm not sure what you've done to draw their interest, but--"

The Inspector jerked his head sideways, eyes full of thunder. "I do.  Looks like I figured something out about your little heists that nobody's caught before.  You're going after gems with weird backgrounds-- they all have legends about 'em, they're supposed to heal you or make you immortal or crap like that--"  A distant rumble of thunder punctuated his words; there was a storm coming.

The white figure went very still; Nakamori could practically hear him thinking. "And you wrote that down some place, didn't you? And someone saw it…"  The words were very soft, filled with some emotion other than his usual amusement or sarcasm; it was odd, hearing that cool voice sounding almost…

…almost shaken. Regretful.

It was hard to tell in the dark and the noise, even harder when half of you still wanted nothing better than to handcuff the bastard (He's so goddamn close, I could finally, finally... rrrrrgh! Somebody up there hates me!) and be done with it-- but-- well. Never mind. (Grow up, Ginzo, you got more important things to think about right now.  Gotta take care of your men; you can catch Kid later.)

"Yeah," he growled, fighting back the extreme ulcer-creating irritation that having to actually speak civilly with Kid was causing.  "Think they hacked my files, and if they did, then I'm on their hit list… right after YOU."

And I'll be damned if I let ANYBODY take you out before I do, thief. You're MY target!!  Goddammit, I haven't worked and sweated and been laughed at all these years to see you dead on the ground--  Nakamori left the words unsaid, but the sheer animosity glaring from his eyes spoke volumes enough that white teeth flashed in a reluctant smile in the shadowy face opposite his.

"Let's just worry about getting out of this situation alive, shall we?  We can both worry about the future later."  The voice was calm and amused again, as precise and easy as ever and with all traces of shakiness gone.

Nakamori opened his mouth to argue, but a short burst of gunfire from the courtyard made him abruptly abandon his dreams of catching Kid for more immediate concerns, survival being first and foremost.  He gave a short, annoyed grunt, then jerked one thumb over his shoulder towards the chaos beyond their refuge.  "Rmph.  Fine.  They've got us pinned down-- can't tell the bad guys from the good guys-- we need a way out of here--"  He eyed the dim figure with distaste, wincing as a shot buried itself in the wall above his head.  "Any ideas?"

Carefully his erstwhile ally raised a cautious head, peering between two struts of carved marble; something went BDOW!! at entirely too close a range, and he ducked with a yelp that was neither amused nor calm.  One white finger delicately traced the smoking hole that had just appeared in the top hat, and Nakamori felt his eyebrows rising in spite of himself at the muttered stream of curses that followed.  Hrmph; interesting turn of phrase he's got there-- I'll have to remember a few of those for later.

The monocled face turned in his direction, and he tried for the umpteenth time to see the features beneath the top hat's brim; no good.  It was just too damned dark and getting darker, too-- the clouds overhead obscured any moonlight that might've helped otherwise. The thief seemed to be considering some plan of action, though; he hesitated, then shrugged fatalistically.  Slowly the white-draped figure drew his legs in beneath him, showing remarkable flexibility; he twisted a little, gathering himself up in a very flat crouch (that hole in the crown of his hat was warning enough that visibility meant sudden death.) "Nakamori-keibu?  Do you see those bushes to our left?"

The Inspector turned his head awkwardly, trying to see over his own shoulder at a difficult angle.  The bushes were thick and dark and apparently uninhabited-- he couldn't see any attackers or allies in them; what was the problem?  "Yeah, so?"  He turned back--

WHAM!!

Nakamori Ginzo never saw the fist that knocked him cross-eyed, sprawling stunned on the dark ground.

* * *

DAMN, he's got a hard jaw!!  Kid rubbed his abused knuckles against his other palm, eyeing the stunned figure before him.  He'd never actually had to hit Nakamori before; he supposed he should feel guilty about it, but for now the thief needed the man limp and cooperative.

And he only had a few seconds...

Careful fingers ran across the various grenades in a hidden pocket; Let's see… No, not that one, or that one... One of those, yeah, and-- nope; ah, there we are.  And-- why not?  One of those too, AND those, AND those as well...  Let's give those damned killers out there a really GOOD magic show.  Drawing a handful of objects out, he took a good hold on Nakamori's collar and considered his targets…

Ladies and Gentlemen, assassins of all ages... let's hear it for KAITOU KID'S MAGIC ACT EXTRAORDINAIRE!  BANZAI!

*flick-flick-flickflickflick*  The objects went flying in carefully-aimed trajectories--

BOOOOOOOOOMMM!flash!! BIDOW-BAM!BamBAMBam!! BIDOOOWWW!bangbangPOP!bangbang!ShiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOWWWWM!!!

Lights, smoke, huge flashes as brilliant as the sun-- the courtyard was suddenly full of a deafening, blinding, utterly sense-deadening display; brilliant fireworks and sonic screams vied with streaming clouds of pink smoke for attention, and everything was overwhelmed by an enormous BWAWHOOOOOOMMMM!!! that rattled teeth and sent staggering figures to the ground as confetti and water rained down...

Water?  Where's the water coming from--?  Ooops... wasn't there some sort of fountain in the middle?  I-- think maybe I blew it up. OH well, can't make an omelet without detonating a few eggs!  Keeping his eyes firmly shut, the Phantom Thief threw several more flash-grenades in a hard overhand volley for good measure before yanking his stunned burden across the ground towards the bushes.  Whoof-- heavy!  Lay off the donuts--

Nakamori was beginning to stir groggily; he hoped the man was listening. "In you go, and STAY PUT , Nakamori-keibu!!  For your daughter's sake… please?  There are already too many orphans in this world."  He stuffed the man into the shrubbery without hesitation, then took off like a bat out of hell for the nearest opening beyond the building walls.

Keep-your-head-down, keep-your-head-down, keep-your-head-down-- The thief's thoughts kept time with his hasty steps, as shouts and random gunfire erupted behind him.  Whipping around a corner, Kid dove for what looked to be an alcove beneath a staircase (nice and shadowy, just duck and pretend you're not here); a quick reach into one pocket pulled out a thin, matt-black swath of plastic sheeting; scrunching his body into the smallest possible ball, he draped it across himself, edged back into a corner below the cement stairs-and hoped like hell that nothing was showing.

I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm REALLY not here…

Crunch, crunch, crunch--- those were footsteps, heading his way... crunch, crunch, crunch, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH--

Oh fuuuuuck.  I'm totally screwed.

Two figures were heading straight for him-- he could see them through the tiniest gap between folds of blackness.  SHITshitshit what've I got for a weapon, where's my cardgun-- Huh?

The two uniformed officers were hunkering down into the shadows, pressing themselves as far back as they could into hiding-- they were actually up against him and they weren't freaking noticing...  Kid held his breath and thought very, very quiet thoughts.

The two cops kept very still; as thunder rumbled again overhead (louder this time), several other uniformed figures thudded past, yelling at each other or into radios and calling for backup and ambulances and--

--and if he didn't get out of there soon he really would be totally screwed.  Maybe he could bop one of his uninvited guests on the head and steal a uniform?  But it didn't look like they were real cops, or they wouldn't be hiding; that meant that they were--

"Now what?" hissed one of the crouching villains; behind him a slow, rather nasty grin was beginning to spread across the Phantom Thief's face.  Now, where's that new little toy of mine?  If I can just get to it--

"Now we get the hell out of here. Nothin' for us to do here anymore-- we failed, and if we don't want to find our brains splattered all over the place we better make it back to base."  The larger of the two had a raspy, odd accent, as if his throat had been damaged sometime in the past.  Kid frowned; he was too big-- the other one's uniform would fit him better.  Slowly one hand crept towards a pocket containing a tiny little gadget he had just finished making, so new he hadn't even tested it yet; it worked on the same principles as that handy little dartgun-watch the Shrimp had, and it--

"Shit… that Nakamori's got more lives than a cat."  The thinner man spat, growling; Kid paused, suddenly alert. "You think he knows anything about the mole?" A faint lightning-flash in the distance made the two men jerk slightly; they pressed back further into their hiding place.

Mole? Mole-- a 'mole' is a secret operative, somebody you plant in a person's environment to catch them offguard...

Oh. NO.  All thoughts of a prospective clothing change vanished; he held VERY still, listening hard.

"Hell no-- if they were clumsy, the bastard would've figured 'em out by now.  They'll get the son of a bitch tomorrow when he comes in for work."  The heavyset 'cop' wiped at something running down the side of his face.  "Goddammit.  Shitheads nicked me with somethin', I dunno what-- let's get going, okay?"  Faint spattering noises were beginning beyond their hiding place as the first drops of rain fell; a chill wind swirled beneath the stairs, and the two men shivered.

"Yeah."  The smaller of the two put a hand behind him on what probably felt like a plastic bag of something relatively firm, maybe garbage or some such; he shoved himself up and out, staggering a little as he gained his footing.  His larger companion followed, still wiping at his face; and in less than a moment they were gone.

Behind them, two widened eyes peered through a narrow slit of an opening.

Well, shit. NOW what do I do?

* * *

There had been a fist… he was sure of that much… and then there had been stars and flashing lights and a lot of noise, and for some reason there had been bushes.

Nakamori spat a leaf from his mouth, vainly trying to drag himself from the clutches of what felt at first like some sort of horrible torture device; it eventually turned into a hedge as he crawled himself out on all fours. As consciousness and memory slowly came online, he began to feel a little strange… and through the red film that was covering his vision he wondered hazily: could a person actually spontaneously combust from sheer fury?

It looked like he was going to find out. The Inspector stumbled to his feet, one hand against his rapidly-swelling jaw. All around him uniformed bodies were pelting past, calling out orders and helping fallen comrades to their feet; he half-tripped over a groaning figure, slipped in a puddle of water (why the hell was it so WET, anyway?) and sat down heavily on the edge of what had once been a fountain to take stock of the situation.

Ten minutes later he still sat on the edge of the former fountain (which now was mostly rubble plus one intact ornamental dolphin), the taste of defeat bitter as ashes in his mouth. Ambulances were on their way, backup was coming to help clean up the mess, and things were far less confused... but their quarry was gone, his target was gone, and all but two of the assassins had vanished. Once his men had seen their commander upright and walking (his brief disappearance had caused more panic than he would have supposed), they had rallied back in the courtyard to report the Kaitou Kid Taskforce's status--

Seven wounded… two dead.

There was nothing in the world Nakamori Ginzo would like to do right then than pin the blame on a certain Phantom Thief, but he knew better. His men had bled and died as much because the unknown force of assassins were after him as they were after Kid.

If Kaitou Kid was to blame… then so was Nakamori; and that was the cold, bitter truth.

Seven wounded… two dead.

He had lost men before; it was part of the risk of taking the badge, everybody knew that. You went to work expecting a normal day, but you were always aware as a cop that someday your badge might be returned to your husband or wife as a memento of the dead-- that somewhere out there was a bullet with your name written on it, just waiting for a personal meeting.  Yeah, you knew; and if you had men serving under you, you also knew that they stood the same chances of falling in the line of duty that you did.  But the knowledge never made it any easier at all, not the smallest iota. Knowing that you were a target too didn't make your hands feel any the less bloody.

Bloody...  The Inspector absently smoothed the bedraggled handkerchief he had bound around the long cuts he had finally noticed on his palms.  The blood staining the makeshift bandage was his, but it might as well be that of his men.

Seven wounded… two dead.  He couldn't seem to let the idea go; as Nakamori stared down at the puddles of water around his shoes, he wondered how everything had gone so very wrong.

Rain was beginning to spatter down around him, hard to see in the erratic light. GOD, he wanted a cigarette...

It *would* be nice and comforting to blame Kid, wouldn't it?  But in the depths of his soul the Inspector knew that, no matter what peculiar drive made Kid steal and return his targets, it had nothing to do with either Nakamori's death or that of any other policeman.  He had spent nearly twenty years wondering about the thief's motives, but he had long ago stopped worrying about his intentions; it was pretty damned clear that he was only interested in stealing.

So… who the hell were the assassins?  Why--

"Uh, Inspector?  Sir?  Sir?"  The shout made him look up; one of his men was pelting across the courtyard towards him, splashing through the thin sheets of water that still pooled here and there.  "We've got a sighting-- Kid was just seen scaling a wall two buildings west of here--"

Nakamori was up and moving before he even realized it.  "WHERE?" He caught the young cop's shoulder in a crushing grip, never noticing either the man's wince or the thin trickle of blood that began to seep from beneath his own bandages.  "WHERE?  We've got to--"

The man cut in hurriedly, his tired young face showing strain (Nakamori noted that it was the rookie again-- good, they had a survivor there) as he wiped damp hair back from his forehead.  "This way, sir."  Calling to several of his men to fall in behind, the Inspector took off at a dead run behind the younger officer.

You're not getting away this time, not again-- you owe me some answers you sonnovabitch, and I'm gonna collect if I have to drag them out of you with my own two hands!

Hands burning, lungs heaving, the Keibu ran.

* * *

Almost-- there--

With a final stretch and a bunching of muscles, the Phantom Thief heaved his bruised and aching self over the edge of the roof.  Panting, he sank down onto the tiles and attempted to catch his breath; the long evening was finally taking its toll.  Man, whoever did the stucco-work on this building ripped off the college but good; the damned stuff was crumbling every place I touched!  Stupid shoddy workmanship… it didn't help that it's beginning to rain, either.  He groaned as excited voices came from below, several of them.  Crap, I thought they'd probably see me-- I was pretty exposed here.  Oh well, at least the assassins have hightailed it by now and there're no 'copters yet; all I need to do is angle over to the electrical plant updrafts and I'm away scot-free.

He spared a dark glance for the cops milling on the ground, wondering how many more were lying in pools of blood back in the courtyard...

Stop it.   You can't help them by freaking out, and you did your best to warn Nakamori there'd be trouble-- hell, you did what you could to keep everybody inside!  If you hadn't made such an unholy mess with all that glass, they'd've ALL been pouring out that door after you, right into a hail of bullets.

He would think about it later; he would have to.  Now, he had to get away.

A gloved hand tapped the button that brought the hanglider into action… and he was off, running lightly across the rooftop as the struts sprang into place.  One step up-- a leap out, a quick gut-wrenching, exhilarating fall through blessedly open, free space-- and the cool, sweet air of evening was carrying him off and away from the stink of cordite and the angry cries behind him, straight towards the massive updrafts that would send him Home Sweet Home--

* * *

Several stories below, a lone figure crouched in the wet bushes and raised something long and deadly to his shoulder. He aimed-

There was a sound: several of them, dull and distant like the thuds you got when you dropped books onto a wooden floor.

High above, the white figure convulsed in mid-air, trying to clutch simultaneously at his left side and shoulder; dark blotches bloomed against white fabric as the hanglider bearing him wavered, tilted, began to nosedive--

--and then suddenly took off hard and fast like a paper airplane in a strong wind as it hit the engineering plant's hot-air currents, arcing up and up and UP--

The lone figure watched until the hanglider had disappeared into the night, cursing under his breath; then he limped away into the darkness and cold, light rain, just one more shadow among shadows.

* * *

"Merow? Meeeeerow ROWyow?"

"Yowwwl! Meeow?"

"…Mrmph."

She wasn't responding.

The small white kitten gave his Person an annoyed stare from cool, rather frosty blue eyes; didn't she know that she was supposed to answer his demands immediately?  He needed a lap, and he needed it Right Now. A cat had his standards, after all. But no, there she lay like a lump on the couch, open book still in hand as she had been holding it when she fell asleep. Tsk; how very lax...

Humans these days... his mom had warned him, but no, he had decided to be a Housecat--

His dinner-dish lay licked clean on the kitchen floor, and his Person's own plate was now sitting in the sink; across the room the interesting thing humans called a 'television' talked quietly to itself, flickering from one bright picture to another.  When the girl had fallen asleep on the couch he had at *least* expected that she would leave room for the Housecat In Residence (himself) to repose, but the silly human seemed to think that she was entitled to the entire piece of furniture. Most inconsiderate.

Still… she WAS rather new at her job; Spot supposed that a bit of prompting now and then was appropriate. He recalled his mother telling him quite pointedly that one's Person had to be trained with the utmost diligence in order to produce quick responses to one's commands-- humans were fairly intelligent, but to create good habits a little reinforcement was occasionally necessary.

A grumble of thunder barked its way across the darkened sky outside the window; irritated, Spot glanced over one fluffy white shoulder.  The air was growing a little chill, the rain was coming down in torrents now, and he needed a LAP.

Mrmph.

Carefully the feline made his way along the back of the couch, small paws soundless and delicate, and stopped to consider his options, tail curled with the tip resting on his toes. Hmmmm… if he walked on her face, she should wake up. Or maybe he should settle himself on her chest and start kneading?  THAT usually did the trick-- there was nothing like the application of four of a cat's five pointy ends to bring one's Person out of a sound sleep.

Unwinding from his pose, the kitten streeeeeetched once, paws extended and back arched; he started to step down, but paused; his Person was making odd noises in her sleep...

Oh; she was dreaming.  So humans did that too?  How weird.  Spot cocked his head to one side, peering interestedly down; it was rather cute, the way her hands and feet were twitching… maybe she was dreaming she was chasing somebody?  No, the noises were beginning to sound a little distressed; she must be having a nightmare.

"--Kaito--?  Noooo..."  Poor thing; bad dreams were the worst.

The cat's ears flicked back, then forward as he considered his Person's discomfort.  If she was upset, she wouldn't be still, and if she wouldn't be still, he couldn't curl up on her comfortably.  Something Needed To Be Done.  Spot hesitated... What would be appropriate in this situation?  Face-walking seemed a rather crude solution, and sitting on her head would probably only exacerbate the problem.  Perhaps he should bring her his catnip mousey?  A bit extreme, quite a grandiose and generous gesture on his part, but it might just work.

A couple of quick leaps plus a momentary pause for a quick resettling of his tail-fur, and the kitten carefully stepped down from the back of the couch onto his Person's stomach, dropping the mousey directly onto her chest.  She was still twitching and murmuring, but one hand crept up to clutch at the toy as she shifted slightly under his minuscule weight; Spot blinked as the girl's other hand slid down from beneath her head, and he suddenly found himself being hugged close.

The feline squirmed slightly, his tiny claws beginning to unsheathe; how undignified, being held like a-- a catnip mousey!

But...

She was calming now, and it wasn't too uncomfortable, snuggled against his Person like this… Her fingers were smoothing his fur automatically, and she was nice and warm...

...warm...

...purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Spot shivered once, then relaxed; his claws resheathed as his Person's nightmare-induced whimpers dwindled into silence.

Blue eyes slid closed; cat and human slept as the minutes ticked by into hours.  For the most part, they both lay still, their mutual warmth comforting each other; but every now and then the girl would twitch slightly, as bad dreams did their best to intrude.

Outside the rain beat on the windows, running down the glass panes like tears.

* * *

PAIN

The whole universe was nothing but pain-- pain and dark and cold and...

...falling?

No, not falling-- he had fallen, but now he was not-falling, not-moving, cold and he HURT and he HURT and oh, he HURT--

Kid-- Kaito-- had no idea where he was, no idea at all.  The last thing he recalled was... a sound?  Sounds?  Dull, thudding noises, sort of thwup-thwup! things?  And-- oh yeah, somebody was hitting him and it had HURT--

He tried to reach for the hurt, shifting slightly in what he was beginning to recognize as cold wetness (dim memories of water falling from overhead-- an exploding fountain? a sprinkler system? --flickered and were gone.)  He was... lying face-down, so if he rolled onto his s--

PAIN Oh God, that hurts

For a long moment he teetered, poised on a fulcrum that would tip either back into black unconsciousness or forward into nerve-screaming awareness; then, as the surge of agony receded a little he managed to keep his grip on the moment, though only barely. Memory began to seep in...

...the heist.  All that shooting, and I-- oh yeah, I threw Nakamori into a bush-- Uh... I was-- on a roof, and I took off, and... those sounds... oh damn.  Damn.  Gunshots.  They GOT me.

How bad?  And where in hell was he, anyway?  Had Nakamori-

No.  No, he wasn't in prison, and he wasn't dead-- he didn't think you would hurt this much if you were dead (Kaito sincerely hoped not, anyway.)  Okay, think think think, Kaito.  Make the brain work.  What can you tell, besides the facts that you're alive and you hurt?

Cold... wet... dark.  And now that he was able to think (if very, very foggily), he could tell that he was curled up into a ball on something very rough, puddled with the rain that was falling insistently down on him.  He shifted slightly, unable to stifle the moan of agony that his movement caused... a rooftop?  It was so goddamn dark--

No, not totally dark.  There was something bright on the edge of his vision, something bright, something white and brilliant orange-- familiar?

…I know those colors, I know them together in that pattern-- it's something I see when I fly.  Landmark, sort of, but up high... Dammit; can't THINK.  WHY can't I think?  Feel so… weak, like I'm sick… and I hurt so much I can't even tell where it's coming from, it feels like it's everywhere--

No, no, no panic.  THINK.  White letters, orange background-- neon!  That's it!  It's a neon sign, on the-- uhhhh, the APA Hotel!  The one downtown, near the Ichikawa hospital! But it's almost level... I'm-- up high, somewhere.  Somewhere cold.  REALLY cold, and really, really windy...

Slowly, slowly he began to take stock of what hurt and what did not.  His right side-- it felt bruised and scraped, but it wasn't too bad; it was his left one that hardly bore touching, that screamed at him every time his right hand tried to explore the damage.  In the dark and the rain it was hard to tell, but eventually he came to the conclusion that he had been shot at least twice, once in the upper left shoulder and once somewhere around his ribs on the same side. The lower of the two wounds seemed to be the lesser-- it was difficult to be sure, but he thought the bullet had either bounced off or maybe just skimmed the surface.  His shoulder, though...

That little bit of exploration sent him back into blackness for an unknown time, as his fingers scrabbled against both the entrance and exit wounds bracketing the outer arch of his shoulder.  The red lights exploding behind his clenched eyes and the wet warmth on his fingers was enough to make him moan again and curl up a little tighter into himself.

Very, very gradually his mind began to work again, and awareness of his situation edged over from the misery of his wounds to an urgent need to know where he was and if he needed to move.  Whether or not that was possible, well-- that was secondary at the moment.

Okay.  He was on a rooftop, somewhere near Ichigawa ED--  That profile over there, that was the Fujima Showcase building, and that was the Tokyo Tower way off in the distance almost straight west.  The rooftop beneath him was a graveled one, and there were only a few this high in the area (he had to be up at least twenty stories or more-- HOW the hell had he gotten that high with two bleeding gunshots and apparently a total lack of consciousness?!?)  Got it. I'm on top of that office building over near the Edo -- I think.

HOW did I get up here?  …even for me, this should've been impossible...

Never mind, you idiot. You're here-- guess it's really true, the gods DO look after drunkards and fools, and I qualify as the latter for sure. He shifted painfully, trying to ignore the fact that he was shivering in the onslaught of rain.  Aaagh, hurts!!  Can't think straight-- gotta get someplace safe, someplace I can get some medical attention without ending up in jail, not many options...  Can't go to a hospital, they report all gunshot wounds to the police, doubt they'd believe me if I said I was cleaning my gun and it went off.  Besides, I'm too young to own one.  Jii's still in Okinawa checking up on that ruby necklace, Mom won't be back from Aunt Makoto's 'til Wednesday--

Wonder how much blood I've lost?  Must be why I feel so fuzzy-headed...  There had to be someplace he could go; he was too goddamned far from home to make it back, it was clear.  He needed help.

Help. Yeah, right. Good joke, that one.  Who could HE turn to for help?  The only people who knew about him were Jii-- and the Shrimp.  And he'd die on the rooftop in the rain before he gave himself up to Kudo, because that road only led to discovery and the slamming of a prison cell door.  Kudo played by the rules, and--

--and he needed someone who either didn't care about the rules, or... or… dammit, he couldn't think.  He REALLY needed help.

Blearily Kaito turned his head; even in the rain-wet darkness he could see the spreading blotch that blackened most of the left upper half of his torso and streaked his arm; if he didn't find help soon, he was going to bleed to death right there.

Logistics, then.  Gotta go to wherever I can, whoever I can, whoever's nearest.  Akako-- no, too far away, though she might not tell.  Hakuba's worse than Kudo.  Aoko… no.  Oh God... what'll happen tomorrow, when I don't show up for school?  Wonder if Nakamori saw me get shot?

Aoko... wish you were here.  Glad you're not-- you don't need to be mixed up with this, don't need to choose between me and your dad.  No...

This hurts so much.  Never thought being shot would hurt so much.  Never had an injury this bad before.  Half of me just wants to curl up and make it all go away… but if I do that, I'll go away with it.

Think of something else.  Why is this rooftop so-- so familiar, anyway?  Why do I kn-- oh, right; I've landed here a time or two 'cause 'Yumi-chan's place is close by, I use her balcony as a landmark because it's nearly as high as this and it's only a couple of blocks away from the river--

--only a couple of blocks away-- from here--

...I can't .  I can't do that.  Can't involve her, she's an innocent little girl and she doesn't deserve this.  Not 'Yumi-chan... though... NO.  I'd rather die on this fucking roof than screw up her life like that, she doesn't have anything to do with thieves or murdered fathers or goddamn guys in black--  Don't be a selfish bastard, Kaito; you have no right to even THINK about doing something like this to her.  You'd be better off trying to find a phone and calling Kudo--or Aoko-- or--

Oh GOD , Aoko!  Nakamori!  Those guys I overheard-- whattimeisit?  Ah, shit, what TIME is it?  They're gonna be waiting for him, they've got somebody in his office and they'll KILL him as soon as he comes in for work--

Panic ran around and around inside the thief's brain like a rat in a cage, frantic and biting itself in its hurry; he moaned involuntarily as his shivers increased, and he fought to bring himself up to his knees.  Clutching at his useless arm, the wounded thief swayed dizzily and nearly fell over again. I've got to get down from here, I've got to find a phone, if I call Aoko she'll believe me, I've got to reach her or her dad or--

Cellphone, right-- where did I stash it...  Fumbling, numbed fingers searched frantically until a tag-end of memory sent them gingerly towards the jacket pocket just above the wound on his left.  Please, don't let it have been hit--  In his hurry he pulled the pocket nearly inside-out... only to have his hopes shattered into pieces, just like the broken fragments of the cell-phone that tumbled onto the puddled roof.  It must've been right where the bullet hit, might've even been what made it skid sideways.

What'll I do now?  Too many orphans in this world-- Gotta get DOWN from here, find a phone that works.  Grimly the young thief began the painful struggle to stand.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later found him leaning very shakily on a small roof-entrance, shielded from the downpour by the overhang.  But the door hadn't apparently been opened in months, and even the best lockpick on the planet couldn't pick a stubborn, rusty lock with one only one working hand and fingers too cold and numb to hold a pick straight.  He had used the last of his concussion grenades; there was no way in, and the only other way off the rooftop was straight down.

Or (if he could manage to stay conscious) straight out, borne on the wings of his glider.  There were two holes in the fabric from the bullets, but if it had carried him this far--

The question was, of course, WHERE was he to go?

Terror and desperation had lent him a second wind, a momentary burst of strength; but already Kaito could feel it fading back into the weakness of blood-loss and too much pain.  He had to think of something *fast* before he ran completely out of steam; if he died, so did Nakamori.

And those bastards in black would win again just like they had with his father.

He leaned against the cold brick wall, feeling his knees tremble, feeling the rain stealing the warmth from his flesh like the thief it was.  I… can't do that, not to Aoko-- she lost her mom when she was so small, to lose her dad like this... and I wouldn't even be around to help.  GodDAMN it, Kaito, that's even more selfish than calling Ayumi--

--no, I--

'Yumi-chan...

He had run out of choices.

--forgive me. I'm sorry, imouto-chan; I don't know what else I can do.  If it was just me, maybe I'd just let myself die here on this rooftop like the idiot I am... but I don't have that right.  Can't let Nakamori and Aoko pay for my mistakes.

Fumbling, he pulled out a number of handkerchiefs from one pocket, all knotted together; as the rain began to slacken a little he gritted his teeth, fought back a wave of dizziness and began to bind his useless arm to his body in preparation for flight.

* * *

*tap-tap-tap*

"Um, Shinichi?"

Hesitantly the little girl that had once been Mouri Ran poked her head around the corner into the boy's bedroom; she frowned, a little worried.  He's not here either.  He didn't go out-- not in this downpour, did he?  The rain was beating fitfully at the windows in uneven gusts; thunder grumbled overhead, and she could hear the faint murmur of her parent's voices as they sat together and planned a trip for the following week to the hot springs resort that she, Conan and her father had visited the previous year.  Eri had commented earlier that week that, since their first honeymoon had been rather brief (they had both been in college), they should have a second one where they both had a better idea of what to do.  She had smiled rather wryly at that and her husband had turned a rather spectacular shade of crimson (although he hadn't seemed to be able to stop grinning.)

I couldn't be happier for them; it's a second chance for their marriage, a second chance to do things right this time.  Funny... they're sort of picking up where they left off, aren't they?  I mean, they even have a little girl again...  The teenager-turned-child spared a smile of her own for that-- and for the hot spring, too; her cheeks reddened as well as she recalled that little trip.

Well, the next time we go I won't be dragging Shinichi in with me...  This time I'd be the one dying of embarrassment!  And... maybe if we go in, um, seven or eight years, we'll have a better idea of-- wait.  Better not finish that thought.  Or not right now, anyway.  More than a little pink, she tiptoed past the living room, still on the hunt for the boy.  Let's see-- he's not in his room, not on the computer, not watching TV, not snitching a snack from the 'fridge, not in the bathroom... oh.  He's brooding about that Kid riddle, isn't he?  And I know where he'd go to brood in this weather...

Slipping on her shoes, the little girl quietly opened the door to the outside stairs and snuck out.  Sure enough, a small figure was huddled halfway down the steps, chin propped on his hands as he watched the rain pouring down a few meters away.

Without comment Rin joined him, shivering a little as she took her place on the step beside the boy; it was rather chilly out this late, and while the rain couldn't quite reach them, the dampness in the air could.  The stairs were dark; he hadn't bothered to turn on the overhead light, and the only illumination that reached them was cast by the rain-blurred streetlights beyond the entrance.

They both sat for a time, listening silently to the drumming of the rain.

Softly, as if afraid her words would disturb the weather, the girl spoke without looking at the boy beside her.  "I was worried about you.  Are you okay?"

Silence; then: "If I had known about the riddle before this--"

"--you would've figured it out and been there, I know."  They had both listened in quietly on the police radio up in Conan's room (a recent gift from Agasa that even Mouri didn't know about yet) to the aftermath of the raid a couple of hours past; the site was still being cleaned up and catalogued, the ambulances had come and gone... and Kudo Shinichi had missed it all.

Rin understood.  He had been understandably furious when he found out about the riddle (too late, far too late to do anything)-- he had fumed and growled about it for nearly an hour, then gone silent with frustration and a deepening black depression.  That last was always a bad sign; it led all too often to the kind of brooding that would put him into a horrible mood for days.  When she had been Ran-neechan and he had been Conan-kun, this would occasionally happen (mostly when something reminded him of what he had lost; she had always put it down to homesickness, not understanding.)  When it had, Ran had nearly torn her hair out trying to find a distraction to bring her young charge out of the mopes-- anything, short of strangling him.  Conan was, to put it bluntly, a monumental pain when he was depressed.

Like now.

"What could you have done?  What would you have done?" she asked him quietly, practically. "Maybe you could have caught him, maybe not-- but from what he told you in the park he has some sort of reason behind what he's doing.  It's not just for the theft, right?"

He stared out at the rain, eyes dark.  "It's still a crime.  What he does… they're still the acts of a criminal, even if he has a reason, a justification behind it.  It's just that I'm beginning to wonder: what would I have done if I'd been the one to have my father killed?  Maybe not the same thing, but..."

Rin bit her lip, thinking hard.  "If it had been me..." she said slowly-- "If it had been me, I don't know what I would've done-- whatever felt right at the time, I guess."  She shifted on the cold stairs, leaning a little against the small form beside her.  "Maybe what he did was the only thing he could do... or the only option he thought he had, anyway."  She half-smiled, turning her head a little towards him.  "It's a bit like when you pretended to be Conan, isn't it, Shinichi?  You did what you thought you had to."

"Mmph."   Silence.

Outside in the dark, the rain's drumming shifted tempo as a gust of wind blew the drops aslant; it was interesting, Rin supposed-- if you listened without considering what was causing the sound, the cars passing and the beating of water made a sort of music, a fugue of weather and traffic-noises.  Soothing, really; maybe that was why Shinichi had picked the stairs for his brooding.  Or maybe not; most likely he had just sought out a place as dark and unprepossessing as his thoughts.  Sometimes, she thought with an edge of exasperation, he really could be a pain...

Well, she supposed he had reason.  But he was too hard to live with when he got like this, hard on himself, too, so...  Oh well. Of course, it was raining-- but so what?  She wouldn't melt...  He might get annoyed, but... some things were worth a little annoyance.

Behind Rin's eyes, Mouri Ran smiled to herself.  Go for it, Ran-chan.

"Shinichi?"  Suddenly she jumped to her feet, snatching up the boy's hand and tugging at it with a sharp, concerned look on her rounded features.  "Come on, I just thought of something important--"

"Huh? What--" She was pulling him down the stairs-he barely made it to his feet, a puzzled look replacing the depressed blankness.

"Never mind-- I'll show you in a minute!  Come on!!  Hurry--"  Already she was at the bottom of the stairs.  Taking a deep breath, she charged out into the downpour and wind, towing the sputtering boy behind her.  He yelped slightly as the cold water hit him, but her excitement and apparent worry was catching; as she turned and pelted down the wet, empty sidewalk, he splashed along behind her as fast as his short legs would carry him.

They ran down the wet, neon-lit sidewalks until they were out of breath, skidding around corners and splashing through puddles that rose above their ankles; by the time they had reached the tiny park three blocks from the Mouri residence, they could not have been wetter if they had just climbed from a river.  Fighting for air (and inhaling water half the time), the boy leaned against a tree-trunk and attempted to talk; his eyes were large with alarm.  "Wh-(gasp) wha-(pant)-- what's the (gasp) problem? Ran, what--"

Rin shoved her soggy hair back from her face; tendrils straggled across her nose, were twined around her neck in dripping tentacular masses and she thought she might have swallowed some of it in their hurry.  Leaning over with her hands against her knees, she coughed for breath for a few moments, then plopped down onto a park bench with a wet splat!  "It-- it's--" She paused, still breathing deeply.

"What?"  The boy's brows were drawn together; he shoved his glasses back up onto his nose, then swore briefly and pulled them off (they were worse than useless in the rain.)

"It's... nothing."

She beamed at him happily, water running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

"WHAT?"

"Uh huh.  Nothing at all.  You needed to stop brooding, so..."  Rin ducked her head, peering at the puddled ground; she seemed absorbed in watching the raindrops splash down, but one corner of her mouth was curled up and a dimple was showing.

There was a long silence while the boy simply gawked at her in disbelief; only the sound of the rain coming down was audible, a muted waterfall of soft noise coming from everywhere around them.  At last, shaking his head, Conan sat down on the bench beside her, squelch.  "You did this… dragged me out here, got me soaking wet, made me worry… to cheer me up?  All this--" and he gestured wordlessly at the rain and the darkened park.

Rin shrugged, her mouth twitching suspiciously.  "Well… I didn't arrange for the bad weather, but-- Shinichi, you're horrible company when you sulk, worse than my dad, and you're harder on yourself than anybody else...  When I was bigger, I used to take 'Conan-kun' to the park to make him feel better, right?  And before that, we used to argue.  So--"  The twitch became a little grin.  "--I decided to do both things this time."

He sputtered; beside him, Rin blinked rain-wet lashes and tried to look innocent.  "Did it work?" she inquired, tucking a sodden clump of hair behind one ear.

Conan hesitated, still rather indignant; after a moment a slow smile of his own began to spread reluctantly across his face.  "I... guess."

One eyebrow quirked up as she chuckled at him in satisfaction.  "Hah! It did. I thought it would.  When you get like that, you're your own worst enemy, so I gave you something else to think about."  She shot him a sideways glance that held just a tinge of warning behind the amusement.  "Honestly, Shinichi?  Much more gloom-and-doom and I would've started practicing katas on you."

"Oh."

"AND," she continued blithely, "if I ended up beating you up, you wouldn't be in any condition to try and find out what happened tonight, would you?  Or to find out why Kid only sent a heist-notice to Nakamori and not the papers or the news or anywhere else?  OR to help to recover whatever he stole-- you know Inspector Nakamori probably didn't manage to stop him."

The boy blinked at her, water running down his face. "...good point.  But Ran?"

"Hm?"  She swung her feet, watching as the rain fell all around them; another shiver rippled through her and she wrapped her thin arms around her shoulders.  "Brrrrr... what?"

"Did we HAVE to get so wet?  We could have grabbed an umbrella."

The little girl giggled.  "Ayumi's, maybe? I never knew you liked HelloKitty so much--"

He aimed a swat at her, which she ducked with ease.  After a moment he snickered, shoving his rainslicked hair back from his forehead. "Wish you could've seen how fast Kid moved when he realized it was me, Ran.  That was hysterical."

The little girl's forehead wrinkled; "I thought you were looking away--?"

"I was, but I could hear him go up the tree.  Never would've believed anybody could climb that fast..."  He snickered again.  "You suppose we should head back now?  Your mom and dad may be wondering where we are."

With a shrug the brown-haired girl beside him slid off the bench, landing in the mud; she showed no signs of caring. "I guess... Shinichi? Do you really think Kid told you the truth-- about Ayumi, I mean?"

He glanced up from where he was tying his shoe, the wet laces sliding limply from his small fingers.  "Oddly enough, yeah.  He was sort of dancing around telling me everything else, especially his motives... but that?  Yeah.  I really think he doesn't want to involve her in any Kid business; matter of fact, he promised not to."  The boy straightened; the brooding look was still there a little but it had lessened considerably.  "I got the impression that Kid doesn't make promises lightly; it'd take a lot for him to break this one..."  He scratched his wet hair, looking rather perplexed; "I'll be damned if I know why I'm trusting him, but I am, I guess.  Maybe it's because he doesn't seem to like to lie?  I mean, even his riddles tell the truth if you look at them hard enough."

"Good."

He eyed her a little sideways; Kudo Shinichi knew that look, the one where Ran's eyes flashed and her jaw was set.  If Kid broke his word, he'd better damn well have an excellent reason for it or he'd be finding out just why Mouri Ran had been the Karate champion for her school.  And come to think of it, she had a bit of a bone to pick with him anyway, one that concerned a certain impersonation that was done of her during the Black Pearl incident...  "Ready?"  Without a second thought he reached for her hand.  It was warm in his despite the cold of the continuing rain; kicking at puddles, they splashed out of the park onto the sidewalks towards home.

Rin glanced at him mischievously as she shivered again.  "You know, I bet we look awfully cute, walking together hand in hand like this...  Two little kids, maybe brother and sister..."

Conan shot her a wry glance, feeling his ears burn slightly.  "Trust me, Ra-uhh, Rin; if I ever start feeling 'brotherly' towards you, I'll move in with Agasa."

Her jaw dropped, and a sudden blush stole across the heart-shaped face.  "Shinichi! I-- um, I mean..."  Her cheeks shaded to scarlet, and she looked both gratified and embarrassed.

"Gotcha," he teased her, his eyes lighting up with amusement.  The last of the boy's sulkiness vanished in a sudden surge of warmth, strong and heady as the wine he wouldn't be allowed to drink for another decade.  "Hey, Rin-kun?  There's something I've been wondering about..."

She was still blushing; as the rain began to slacken a little, one eyebrow crept up.  "W-what?"

Conan's smile broadened; she looked more like her old self than ever when she was flustered.  "Well... when you were Ran, you were ticklish... but how about now, as Rin?"

Her outraged squawk and abrupt halt was his answer.  "You are, huh? Really? Just HOW ticklish are you?"

"Aack!  Shinichi, stop!  SHINICHI!!-- nononoNOEEEEEEP!!!"

Laughing like idiots, dodging puddles and each other, their chase lasted all the way home.

Chapter Text

The auditorium filled with children and adults of all ages applauded wildly, cheering with all their might as Ayumi The Astounding triumphantly held up a card for all eyes to see. Her sequined dress glittered brilliantly under the stage lights, and in the front row her parents, Mitsuhiko, Genta, Mouri-tantei, Agasa-san and Ai all goggled at her with total astonishment. "As you can see, it's the ACE OF DIAMONDS!"

"Fantastic!"
"How does she DO that?"
"I can't believe my eyes!"

The cheering reached thunderous proportions.

(From the third row Conan and Rin and two people who looked like Shinichi-niisan and Ran-neechan-waved, laughing. Conan began throwing popcorn at the back of Ai's head, and Rin elbowed him in the ribs disapprovingly; when this failed to have any result, she dropped a piece of ice down his neck from her soda. Curiously enough, both he and Shinichi-niisan jumped at the same time.)

Ayumi The Astounding ignored the ruckus in the audience, bowing gracefully (her teacher had taught her that magicians ALWAYS bowed, even the girl ones-- they never curtseyed.) She removed the shiny black silk top hat that she had been wearing, smiling happily. "For my next trick I will pull a Hei-san from out of my hat... Okay, everybody: Start thinking hard about Hei-sans... Concentrate, please..."

(Conan and Shinichi-niisan blinked at each other, puzzled; identical delighted grins crept across their faces after a second and they fell onto each other's shoulders, howling with laughter. Rin heaved an exaggerated sigh of aggravation and dumped her popcorn over both of their heads as Ran-neechan cheered her on.)

The hat suddenly became rather heavy; looking puzzled, Ayumi The Astounding reached in. "There's something in here already? Um..."  Beneath her fingers were feathers, warm and fluffy-- she jerked her hand back as an alarmingly large, beaky head rose from out of the hat with a piercing squawk. Dropping the hat onto the stage, Ayumi The Astounding backed away with as much dignity as possible, and turned to address her audience:

"Eeep..… A-as you can see, Hei-san can't be here today; you must not have concentrated hard enough! So instead… we've got, um, peacocks, I think..."

The bird somehow managed to pull itself out, tail and all; it postured and preened, stealing the spotlight from the young magician as a second and then a third arrived, all emerging from the depths of the top hat. Their shrieks and wing-flapping began to fill the air, drowning out the alarmed murmurs and hesitant clapping from the audience. Ayumi The Astounding scowled; this was going ALL wrong! She ran forward, waving her wand:

"Shoo! SHOO! Go away, peacocks!"

The three large birds took off in a rush of wind and feathers, screaming like sirens as they circled the auditorium; everybody ducked (even the popcorn-bedecked quartet in the third row, although they seemed to be near-hysterical with laughter by now) as the heavy wings beat over their heads-- flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP--

She ducked as they dove back towards the stage, but they just kept coming: -flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP--

*

...and Ayumi awoke abruptly, sitting upright among her tumbled bedcovers with a tiny "yeep!!"

THAT had been weird; Ayumi knuckled the sleep from her eyes and blinked around at her silent room, dark and shadowy save for the dim glow of the lights from her balcony door. The dream had been so… real; she could almost hear the peacocks shrieking, could nearly hear the flap of their wings...

…flap... FLAP-flap... FLAPflap-FLAP…

That wasn't a dream. There was something making a noise; Ayumi shut her eyes quickly and froze, fighting a sudden and terrified urge to fling her covers over head until it went away. Fleeting thoughts of the Monster In The Closet that she had fervently believed in several years before flashed through her mind before an eight-year-old's modicum of common sense battled them down.

There's NO SUCH THING as monsters, there's NO SUCH THING as monsters... The noise sounds like something on the balcony--

Oooooooo....

There's NO SUCH THING as monsters...

Ayumi really, really wished her kaasan hadn't gone out of town. Her tousan had been gone for a month now-- his work sent him off to train people in new offices for weeks at a time, and right now she would have given almost anything to hear him coming through the front door with his suitcases and his "Tadaima! Where's my little Ayumi-koneko?"

It was raining; a muted growl of thunder so low it was scarcely audible rattled the glass in the sliding door. A shush of softly falling rain whispered to itself from the overhang, and some tiny voice in the back of Ayumi's scared young mind wondered if her roses were getting all nice and watered (was rainwater better for roses than regular water? She'd have to find out.)

That noise sounds like... it doesn't sound like monster noises... it sounds like, like cloth flapping. Did something blow onto my balcony? Or is it really wings? Maybe there's a big bird out there, an owl or something-- maybe it's, maybe it's a BAT or, or--

I won't know if I stay here under the covers. Conan would laugh at me-- no, he wouldn't laugh, but he'd go and look and see what it was-- and Rita-kun's in there asleep on the couch and if I yell she'll come running right away... Maybe I could just peek around through the glass?

Feeling very brave (and wishing strongly that she was Somewhere Else Right Now), Ayumi slid silently down from beneath her covers onto the floor; sneaking across her room, she slowly peered around the edge of the doorjamb and through the glass of her balcony door---

... FLAP-flap... flap... FLAP-flap...

Something WAS out there, something white. It was crouched over by her rosebush, and it seemed to be waving at her-- Sheer terror overwhelmed the little girl's vision and intellect for a second or two as she drew in breath to cry out; then, as her eyes told her that the 'waving' was actually a piece of cloth blowing in the wind (hence the flapping sound), she choked off her scream and stared...

The whatever-it-was seemed to be… wearing a top hat.

Monsters did not, in Ayumi's experience, wear top hats. Therefore, this was not a monster. And... also... she remembered somebody, once upon a time, who had worn a white top hat like that and had been on her balcony too.

...she remembered...

He had been standing on the railing, balancing so easily against the wind; Ayumi had been at least two-thirds asleep when she padded out onto the balcony in her pajamas, and the movie she had just seen had been figuring in her dreams. "Dracula-san?" she had asked the caped figure sleepily without even the slightest touch of fear; he had dropped lightly down, a little smile on his shadowy face as he told her No, he was just tired from flying so far. It had made sense to her at the time in the way that dreams did; of course he was tired, anybody would get tired if they flew too far so late at night...

And then the police helicopter had arrived, and the blast of noise and light had driven away the last vestiges of dream-feeling. He had left (the lightest touch of lips to the back of her hand, the soft voice murmuring 'Goodnight, little miss' just before he flew away like a white dove into the darkness), and when the police had arrived at their apartment door with questions and paperwork she had found out her oddly gentle visitor's name:

Kaitou Kid, the Phantom Thief.

It had been very exciting the next morning when she went to school and told her friends; Conan's face had turned very red.

And later on--

There had been a moment, months back, when she almost thought she had met him again; just for a second or two, when strong arms had grabbed her from behind and taken her away from terror into safety... It had been Ojiwa-sensei, of course, who had been so scary and awful and she had been *sure* she was going to be killed--

--but the gentle, quick hands had caught her up and whisked her away, and the gentle voice (familiar, she was SURE it was familiar!) had told her to stay put and then--

--then she had been rescued by the police. And she hadn't really known what to say when they asked her just who had gotten her away safely... Later on, when Mouri-tantei told them that he had seen Hei-san the janitor scoop her up, she had simply nodded; of course, that's who it had to be, didn't it?

Didn't it?

But… now...

Yushida Ayumi was learning a lot about assumptions, even if she didn't know the word yet. She was learning that leaping to them often meant falling on your face, and that sometimes it was much smarter to just say nothing and listen. After all, that was how she had found out about Rin and Conan, wasn't it?

She remained kneeling on the rug by the door, staring at the white figure crouched in the corner. It seemed to be awfully wet; the continuing flap-FLAP of what she now thought was a cloak sounded heavy with rain even through the glass.

If he was wet, he was probably cold, wasn't he? Nobody should have to be cold and outside in the rain at night, like a stray cat or dog. Very slowly she climbed to her feet. If he was wet and cold, he'd need a towel... she still had one on the back of her chair from where Rita-kun had been helping her dry her hair after her bath. Picking it up and wondering if this was really a good idea, Ayumi slowly slid open the door to her balcony.

…flap-flap... FLAPflapflap...

The white figure hadn't moved at all. There was little light on the balcony, but the city-glow reflected down from the lowering clouds; she could see well enough. It WAS him, or at least it looked like it was… but if this was Kaitou Kid, why was he visiting her again? And why did he seem to be asleep on her balcony, all curled up into a little ball? Was he tired from flying again? Maybe he was asleep-- she needed to see his face. Biting her lip, Ayumi stepped forward; without any conscious thought on her part her hand drifted up towards the brim of the top hat to pull it off...

Only to be stopped by a wet, white-gloved hand that whipped up and caught her wrist tightly; the little girl squeaked in terror, and the hard grip immediately slackened. The hat tipped back and a monocle flashed mirror-like as a pale, weary face raised itself from its droop to smile weakly into her own:

"'Yumi-chan? Don't be scared-- it's just me."

That voice. The child wondered, just for a moment, if she was still asleep.

His whisper was barely a thread, so tired that it was scarcely recognizable over the rain that fell on them both... but it struck the child like a strong, sudden gust of wind. It flipped all her ideas around, turned her world sideways and backwards with realization and left her standing very, very still and shocked before him, mouth open. Nearly a minute passed before she could manage to stammer out her question to the shivering figure that waited so very quietly:

"Hei-san? HEI-SAN? W-why are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid?"

He smiled at her again, releasing her wrist and slumping back against the wall beside her rosebush; the rain-wet petals seemed like pale ghosts of the whiteness of his cloak. "Well," he half-whispered, his voice so low and wavery that she had to strain to hear it, "It's… sort of a long story. 'Yumi-chan? Can you-- help me up, please? I need to get out of this rain."

She hung back a little, so bewildered she didn't know quite what she should be doing; drops blew against her face and her feet were beginning to get wet. "Um… I can go get Rita-kun, she could help too--"

He seemed to wince; rain dripped steadily off the brim of the white hat, ran in a small stream as the strange figure that her friend Hei-san had suddenly become bowed his head. "No-- nobody else--" The tired voice trailed off weakly as he shivered and seemed to slump in on himself. "Got to get inside... so cold..."

He tried to straighten a little, bracing one hand against the wall. As it slid across the white stucco the wet glove left a dark, smeary blotch behind it, and Ayumi saw that the fabric was blotted with large stains. There wasn't enough light to really see colors, but she thought they might be red. "Hei-san?...are you hurt?" The child reached out involuntarily but her friend shifted back very slightly, a grimace of pain crossing the little that she could see of his face.

He nodded. "That's why I want to get inside," Hei-san told her matter-of-factly, his voice even fainter than before. "My shoulder and left side-- 'Yumi-chan? Can we-- just get out of this rain… and then talk about that? Please?"

He sounded so tired.

It took a lot of work to get him inside-- he was so heavy, and she was so small; and every movement seemed to hurt him a lot. During the whole difficult, halting progress Hei-san kept his white cloak wrapped around his left arm and side-well, it HAD been white; it wasn't anymore. Dark stains had bloomed across the pale cloth even before they moved, and by the time he sank down on the rug just inside Ayumi's door they had grown considerably and the rainwater that dripped from his limp form was red.

Outside the rain was beginning to slacken; it was already a lot lighter than it had been, as if the downpour had only existed to bring her strange visitor to her. Strong gusts of wind were beginning to chase the clouds across the sky, wailing fitfully through the balcony rails.

The little girl bit her lip as she stared at her friend and teacher in the dim light; there were so many questions, so many impossibilities right there in front of her-- Ayumi's young mind tried to cope with them and failed. It was just too much to think about… So, with the practicality that was a strong part of her character, she simply put them aside to deal with later. Hei-san was wet and he was hurt (she was soaked through too, but she'd worry about that in a minute); he needed to get dry and to feel better. Those were the important things right now.

The towel she had carried lay forgotten in a sodden mass on the balcony outside; as the child quietly closed the door, she considered what needed to be done. When she got soaked, the first thing her mom did was make her change clothes; but she didn't have anything that would fit him-- Oh, wait, maybe she did…

Kneeling beside the still figure, she whispered, "I'll be right back." He did not stir; she wasn't certain if he had even heard her.

The warmth and dry air of the hallway gave her something of a shock as she slipped out of the door, shutting it behind her. From the living room she could hear Rita-kun's quiet snores above the low mutter of the television, and she hesitated for a second; if she woke Rita-kun up... but Hei-san had asked her not to, so she didn't.

Her father's bath-robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door; that (and the armful of towels supplied by their tiny laundry-room) made up her burden as she staggered back into her bedroom, as well as the small first-aid kit from beneath the sink. Hei-san had not moved at all, from what she could tell; he still lay half-curled on his right side, his face resting against one outflung arm.

'First things first'-- her mother always said that; Ayumi swallowed hard and gently reached out to remove the white top hat. It was completely soaked, the silk oddly heavy in her fingers; peering inside, she saw that it seemed to have things hidden inside it (there were a number of pockets and interesting compartments) that she would've liked to look at.

Maybe later. Little-girl hands pulled the monocle gingerly free, laying it on top of the hat. NOW what? She frowned; if he'd wake up, it would be a lot easier... "Hei-san? Hei-san, can you wake up a little? Please…? Hei-san…?"

Nothing. His breathing was fast and sort of sharp, like somebody having a bad dream. She'd have to do what she could on her own.

Carefully Ayumi pulled the white cloak away from his side; the mass of wet fabric stuck to him in several places, but she was determined and finally got it all away. That was when she drew back, appalled-- she knew that he was hurt, but... there was so much blood all over the place; he looked awful, and it was icky. She was going to get it all over herself!

Never mind; he needed to be fixed up. And she was soaking wet anyway... A moment's exploration showed her how the cloak was fastened at the shoulders; she couldn't get it off the one he was lying on, but she unfastened it from his wounded side and folded it back. The top of his jacket was awfully messy-- Ayumi could see that it was torn in several places, the ones with the most dark stains; as she tried to pull it free Hei-san jerked beneath her gentle tugging and moaned, making her pull back in alarm: she was hurting him!

"Hei-san? Hei-san, please wake up--- please?"

Still nothing, and the stains were larger and darker now. It was on her rug, too, and-- Well, if he wouldn't let her take his jacket off, she would just have to fix him up with it on. His arm seemed to be tied to the rest of him somehow, and the knots were too tight for her small fingers to open. Frowning ferociously, the girl set to work.

Several towels later, Ayumi sat back on her heels and wiped her messy hands absently on her damp pajamas. She had tried to remember the stuff Conan had told them once about how to take care of hurt people-- if they were bleeding, you were supposed to put bandages on the hurts all nice and tight, so the pressure kept the blood from coming out; that made sense. But she couldn't really see where he was hurt; Hei-san's jacket was in the way. So she'd piled the towels on over and behind where he seemed to be needing them. But… she was supposed to make them tight, wasn't she? Pushing on the towels seemed to be a bad idea-- Hei-san'd sounded bad when she did that, so she'd thought maybe if she piled something on the towels, something to hold them in place-- wouldn't that help?

It seemed to be working; the child tilted her head to one side and surveyed her friend. He was still awfully pale, but the stuffed animals she had piled on top of him were keeping the towels where they should be, and she had put an awful lot of tape to hold them in place as well as on the towels. Gently she draped her father's bathrobe on top of everything; it was warm and should help keep him dry.

And maybe she could get Hei-san to wake up now? Thinking hard, Ayumi's eyes wandered back to the door onto her balcony. The sodden towel was still lying out there, flapping a little in the wind (the rain had mostly stopped by now); that might help--

* * *

--he had been sitting there in the rain for a couple of hours, he guessed, though he really didn't care. Somehow he didn't seem to feel it falling all soft and cold down on him, not really-- he could nearly ignore it, could almost retreat away from it and everything else if he tried… and maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe if he just let himself go all numb he wouldn't have to think about what they had told him about his oyaji... about the accident. It couldn't be true, anyway-- Oyaji was the *greatest* magician in the world, he wouldn't go and die in some stupid stupid accident onstage, he couldn't! So he'd just sit out here on the steps in the rain until somebody came and told him it was all a mistake, that his oyaji hadn't really died at all--

The door behind him opened, then closed. Maybe--? He looked up hopefully, water sliding down his young face to mingle with his tears.

No. It was just Aoko-kun, her own face all swollen and blotchy with crying. She didn't say anything at all, just sat down beside him on the wet steps without a word. Stupid girl. Why had SHE been crying? She still had a father-- her tousan hadn't just--

--just died --

He must've made a sound without realizing it, since suddenly he felt his hand being gripped tightly by strong, thin fingers; Aoko-kun had hold of it and was squeezing it tightly, almost as if she wanted to hurt him. But in a weird way it sort of felt good; the hard clasp was realer than anything else had in the last few hours, realer than the misery that he had been wrapped in, realer than the rain or his mother's weeping...

...and somehow it helped to pull him back through the numb agony of his own grief, back into the world. Kaito was abruptly conscious of how cold he was, how wet the steps beneath him were… of the hushed voices inside the house behind him, the way the girl beside him was staring at him, her eyes so large and dark and sad--

Aoko-kun was crying too. Or maybe that was just the rain.

"Kaito? Let's go inside, okay? Your kaasan, she needs you--"

His kaasan... He could feel things now, and they hurt; the whole WORLD was full of hurt... but his kaasan was hurting too. The numbness would have been more comforting, but it was even lonelier than sitting outside in the rain. If you had to be miserable, maybe it was better to be miserable in company...

* * *

...but there was something on his face, cold and wet, not rain-- and a little girl's voice, whispering: "-san? Hei-san? PLEASE wake up-- Hei-san, if you don't wake up soon I'm gonna *have* to go get Rita-kun... Hei-san?" His eyes flickered open. Aoko?

No... not Aoko... and he wasn't a little boy sitting in the rain. Memory came back in a rush, accompanied by dizzying pain and a feeling of panic; he attempted to move--

…and after the lights dancing in front of his eyes had cleared a bit, decided that he was just fine where he was. Kaito blinked in the half-darkness, trying to work out just exactly where that might be. The sight of the child kneeling beside him helped; he noted rather foggily that she seemed to be holding a wet towel in her hands, hence the cold dampness on his face. Let's… hear it for logic; yay, I figured it out. Now… where am I, and why do I feel so horrible--?

I remember. Ayumi's. She got me in off the balcony, and-- that's all. Guess I passed out. Not so cold now, though, and-- where's my hat? Where's my-- oh. Oogh. A weak flicker of amusement rose from somewhere inside him at the sight of the sodden white hat and monocle that lay beside him on the floor. Heh... Nakamori's been trying to unmask me for years, but a little girl beat him to it.

He shifted very, very slightly; fabric slid down from his chest, a covering of some kind... and unless he was hallucinating (not quite something Kaito was entirely prepared to rule out) there seemed to be several colorful things attached to him here and there beneath it, fairly light but staying in place. After a moment his rather blurry vision recognized them as… stuffed animals? "Ummm... Ayumi-chan? WHY do I have stuffed animals all over me?" he whispered, trying to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. As the little girl came more clearly into focus, the thief's eyes widened and he winced. There were dark stains on the child's pale blue pajamas, and her hands were blotched here and there with what he was certain was his blood.

God, Ayumi... If there had been any other way, I would never have gotten you mixed up in this.

"I'm using them to hold your bandages on," she whispered back; one hand scratched absentmindedly at some of the stains on the other. "I couldn't get your jacket off, so I put towels on you where you were hurt. Did it work?"

He took stock of the situation, raising to one elbow slowly and carefully; it was hard to see in the dimness of the room, but he thought the majority of the bleeding had stopped. "Think so... thanks, 'Yumi-chan; you did good." He tried to smile at the child, his mind beginning to work a little more clearly now that he was out of the cold and rain.

As his eyes adjusted to the low level of light, he realized with a slight sense of panic that Ayumi had picked up his hat and was looking inside, her face curious and absorbed; small fingers dipped into a pocket and brought out a small matt-silver metal ovoid. "Hei-san? What's this?"

Aaaak! "A-Ayumi-chan? Please put that back… carefully, okay?" He drew a deep breath, trying to sit up; no good, she'd have to help him-- his shoulder was useless at this point. "That's a… it's called a sonic grenade, and it's dangerous. Could you, ah, please put my hat down? Thank you…" Kaito closed his eyes briefly as another wave of dizziness swept over him. "I promise I'll explain everything in a minute, but-- can you help me sit up first?"

Between the two of them they managed to get him scooted back a little, propped up in the alcove between the wall and the end of the little girl's bed beside her toy-cupboard; the young thief blinked at a Yaiba action figure beside his head, wondering if it should look so fuzzy. Must be the blood-loss. Poor Ayumi's rug was pretty messy by now-he wondered how they could fix it. Maybe Aoko would know how to get blood-stains out...

Aoko. Aoko's dad. Nakamori. The mole.  Morning. Each thought hit with the force of a hammer-blow, and he bit back a yelp.

WHAT TIME WAS IT?!?

It was still dark outside, but how long had he been on that rooftop unconscious? How long had he been on Ayumi's balcony? "'Yumi-chan? W-what time is it?"

The little girl kneeling beside him squinted across the room at a clock beside her bed. "It's... two fourty-seven…" She rubbed at her eyes and yawned a little. "I've never been up this late before. Hei-san?"

He was beginning to gently pry the mass of stuffed animals, towels and tape from his still-wet jacket, hissing to himself in pain. "… what?"

"WHY are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid? You said you'd explain... I thought at first you really were him, but--"

This… this is gonna be even harder than talking to the Shrimp was. He took a deep, steadying breath, not really sure how to handle that but absolutely certain that it was going to have to wait. “Ayumi… I said I'd tell you and I will… but there's one more thing I have to do first." A sharp stab from his side made him shut his eyes briefly in pain, and when they opened the expression in their depths was bleak and resolute. "Do you have a phone I could use?"

* * *

*beedeedeedeedeeeep*

*beedeedeedeedeeeep*

"Mmph. Whmph?" A sleep-fogged eye appeared from the depths of a pillow and a couch-throw, accompanied by the irritable "Meww?" of a drowsy kitten. The eye blinked, first at the time shown on the clock across the room, then at the cellphone on the couch's end-table.

*beedeedeedeedeeeep*

*beedeedeedeedeeeep*

"Rrrgh. 'lright, 'm getting it--" A hand emerged, fumbling for the cellphone; the half-awake voice muttered unintelligible epithets as several books and a scattering of papers were knocked off onto the floor.

*beedeedeedeedeeeep*

*beedeedeed--- "Moshi moshi… this had better be good… whoever you are, do you know what TIME it--"

"Aoko?"

The tiny voice on the other end of the receiver sounded… odd. As alertness began to seep back into the young woman's voice, she recalled sleepily that her father had only come in only an hour or so before. He never answered the phone at night-- Aoko always did, waking him up if necessary; once Nakamori was asleep, he tended to stay asleep through nearly everything save for his daughter's rather extreme methods of breaking his slumber.

She frowned at the phone. "Kaito?… is that you? You sound--" She wasn't quite sure how he sounded, but it was... wrong, somehow. And why on earth was he calling her at nearly three a.m., anyway?

A deep breath from the other end of the line; he almost sounded as if he had been running or something. "It's me. Aoko, listen-- please, just listen to me for a minute-- this is really, really important--"

She pushed a tangle of hair back from her eyes, grumbling slightly despite the distant alarm signals that were beginning to go off in the depths of her mind. "It had better be important, you baka-- it's three in the morning! Where ARE you? Are you at home?" As soon as she had asked, she wondered why; of course he'd be at home, they both had school the next day...

Silence for a second or so. "…Never mind that. Aoko-- your dad, did he get home okay?" She could still make out his breathing over the line, and a line of worry began to form between Aoko's brows; was he sick?

"Home… he came home a little more than an hour ago; he looked exhausted, but he was okay, I guess-- Kaito? Kaito, is something wrong?"

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. Unconsciously the young woman's fingers began to twist the couch-throw between them, wrapping it tightly in her fist. "...Yeah, something's wrong, but-- I don't-- Aoko, I can't tell you everything right now. But listen, you have to--"

"Kaito? What do you mean you can't 'tell me everything right now'? If this is one of your tricks--" She was beginning to get a little angry, although the worry was still there. A soft thump! announced the arrival of Spot on the couch beside her; the kitten nudged his fluffy way into her lap, blue eyes blinking up questioningly at hers. "Merrow?" She scratched the feline's ears absently, frowning.

"Aoko? Can you... I know this sounds weird, but-- can you just trust me? Please? This really is important-- a lot depends on it." Kaito's distant voice had a desperate quality now that she had never heard in it before; the incipient anger melted away under growing concern, and the kitten in her lap gave a faint yowl of protest as her fingers tightened a little too much.

"Aoko? Are you still there?"

"I… yes. Okay-- just tell me. What's so important?"

"It's your tousan. You've got to keep him from going in to work tomorrow; tell him anything, do anything, just-- tell him you got an, I don't know, an anonymous call that-- that somebody was planning to ambush him or something--" His words were clipped and harsh, almost strangled by the importance of the point he was trying to get across.

Aoko's eyes widened; suddenly the Inspector's daughter was very awake. "Kaito, wait, what-- how do you-- WHY?? Do you want to talk to him? Let me go get him up--"

The voice became even more desperate, and she heard him give a faint gasp as if something was hurting him. "NO! He-- he won't believe me the way he'll believe you. Just… please, just stop him from going in, Aoko… please… I'm not lying or trying to trick you-- if he goes in, he'll die. That's the truth, Aoko--" His words cut off as he drew in his breath sharply; in the background the young woman could hear a soft, low-pitched murmur of concern in what sounded like a child's voice, and she heard Kaito say something that ended in 'Ayumi-chan'.

'Ayumi-chan'? Who's Ayumi? "Kaito? Kaito, are you okay--? You don't sound..." She found herself clutching at the phone and leaning forward; Spot gave a plaintive yowp and jumped back onto the floor, tail lashing irately.

"I-- Aoko, I can't-- Just tell him, okay? Tell him, and do anything, everything to keep him from going in. Don't let him go to work. Call his office and have them check it out-- the bomb squad, whatever-- Somebody's gonna be waiting for him. Please, Aoko? Just-- please?"

Her own breathing was coming harder now; mental images of possible reasons behind the desperation on the other end of the peculiar conversation were beginning to bubble up, and they weren't helping to calm her nerves at all. "Alright... alright. I'll think of something. But-- Kaito? You'd better have a really good explanation for this later-- and where ARE you, anyway? If you're at home I can come over right now--"

"No, 'm not at home. --Aoko? One more thing-- I'm... sorry, Aoko."

"'Sorry?' What for?" The sadness in his voice made her own tone soften a little. "What do you have to be sorry for? Kaito--"

"… I just… am. Lots of stuff I should've told you… but I didn't want you to be involved… too dangerous, and it wouldn't be fair to you. So much I wanted to tell you… and now I don't know what's gonna happen. 'm sorry, Aoko. I wish... never mind."

"...Kaito?"

"Won't be at school tomorrow, I'm pretty sure about THAT, anyway--" She could hear a faint laugh over the phone. "Don't tell Hakuba about this, 'kay? And... don't tell your father who the call came in from-- that's really important. If there's any way at all… of salvaging this whole stupid situation... Aoko?"

"Kaito? Where are you--? I think I'd better get over there, you don't sound okay--"

"Aoko? I really am sorry. Did it because… seemed like the right thing to do… at the time. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't… not important. Just… I'm sorry, you know? Wanted to tell you, because I don't know what'll happen next. Gotta go now--"

"KAITO! Don't you dare--"

The line went dead.

* * *

The phone slid from weakened fingers to thump softly onto the floor, and a very weary young thief allowed closed his eyes and allowed his head to droop back against the wall behind him.

Did it . Now at least Nakamori has a fighting chance-- he'll listen to Aoko, hopefully at least. And she won't stop at just telling him; if she really thinks he's in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to keep her dad safe.

The room was very quiet now; the only sounds were those of his breathing and that of the wind outside the glass doors as it blew the rainclouds into tatters, revealing fitful glimpses of the full moon riding midway down the sky.

I almost told her, didn't I? I wanted to... wanted to tell her about what I've been doing, what my life's been turning into while everybody else is thinking about what they want to do after graduation. I already know what I'm going to be doing, whether I want to do it or not-- those bastards that killed my father killed any other future I might've had as well.

Wanted to tell her. Hate lies, and I have to tell so many, so many... So tired of lies.

So tired.

He shivered, his good hand going to his wounded shoulder and then down to his side. The bleeding did seem to have stopped… in the morning maybe he could figure out a way to contact Jii, or even his mom-- He couldn't stay at Ayumi's indefinitely.

Ayumi--? Kaito opened his eyes hastily; he had almost forgotten that the child was there. She sat scarcely a foot away, her knees drawn up and her arms clasped across them, sleepy eyes fixed on his face. “'Yumi-chan?"

The child came fully awake with a slight start. "Uhh?" She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

Running one hand across his forehead, the thief tried hard to think. "Ayumi? You said-something about a 'Rita-kun?'" Moments later he had a better idea of the situation: a rather hard-sleeping babysitter was konked out on the couch in the living room, Ayumi's parents were both away on business trips, and she had no school the next day-- it was a Teacher's Work Day or some such. He did, though, but he sort of suspected that was a moot point right now...

Hope Aoko can think of something to tell Hakuba-- But that was the least of his worries, wasn't it?

Rita-kun, the neighbor girl who was looking after Ayumi, had classes; she planned on stopping in at lunchtime to check on her charge, but the little girl had been given strict instructions to stay in the apartment during the hours she was away. That solved a few problems, he guessed-- at least he wouldn't be dodging a suspicious babysitter during the day.

God, he was so thirsty. He remembered reading somewhere that people who lost a lot of blood tended to suffer from dehydration. "'Yumi? Could you get me a glass of water? Very, very quietly-- we don't want to wake up your friend in the living room…" The little girl nodded, then climbed to her feet. "And… why don't you change into some new pajamas? I think those got a little… messy. Maybe you'd better put the phone away too." His heart sank to the soles of his feet at the sight of the blotches and smears on the innocent surface of her flannel PJs; the incongruity of the sight was hard to bear, as was the guilt it brought forth.

Can't think about that right now; I can beat myself over the head with it later. The little girl nodded drowsily, scooping up the cellphone and pulling another set of clothing from a drawer before she padded softly out of the room; he heard a bathroom door close quietly behind her somewhere in the hall and hoped desperately that Rita-kun, however nice a person she probably was, didn't wake up. He did NOT feel up to dealing with a hysterical babysitter just then.

Think I'll just sit back here for a moment and catch my breath. So tired... His eyes closed as some of the nervous energy and adrenaline that had kept him going seeped away. Now that he had accomplished the most important thing on his mind, a little of the pain from his wounds lessened as muscles relaxed and taut nerves loosened.

I'll just rest for a bit, just 'til Ayumi comes back-- Weary eyes slid closed as his breathing calmed and deepened...

* * *

Ayumi buttoned the bottom button on her pajama shirt with freshly-washed hands; it was good to be wearing dry, clean stuff. But-- her wet clothes were sticky and stiff with stains and she couldn't leave them in the bathroom… With a scowl the little girl scooped up the offending garments, intending to carry them back into her bedroom. Maybe Hei-san could figure out what to do. She would've woken Rita-kun up, but...

As she took the glass of water from the sink and turned to go, a faint *BREEEEP* came from one corner of the bathroom; she had left the family cellphone on the counter and tossed a towel on top of it-- no wonder it sounded so muffled. "Um, moshi moshi?" The child tried to sound grown-up, wondering who would call at such a funny hour.

"H-hello... who is this?" A young woman's voice seemed to be on the other end of the line, sounding rather uncertain. "I was trying to reach Kuroba Kaito... is he there?"

Ayumi hesitated, a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach. 'Kaito'? Like in 'Kaitou Kid'? It almost sounded the same, so-- "Um... Are you his friend?" Her eyes brightened a little. "Are you the one he just called a minute ago?"

"Yes! Is he there? Can I talk to him--?"  Whoever-it-was sounded terribly relieved. "Wait-- before you take the phone to him, can you tell me where this is? I mean, where are you both?"

"We're at my home. I live in an apartment-- he got hurt, so he came here because… I guess because he needed to call you." The little girl thought hard, remembering a certain necklace that Hei-san had shown her a few days earlier. "Are… you Aoko?" she asked slowly; "Did you just have a birthday? and..." Ayumi fought back a giggle, which escaped a little anyway. "… and do you chase him with a mop sometimes?"

"Um... Yes, that's me... Is this 'Ayumi-chan'? Wait, wait-- you said he got HURT?!?"

"Uh huh. He's resting right now--" (she had seen Hei-san's head beginning to nod as she slipped from her bedroom) "--but you can talk to him in the morning if you want. I don't have school tomorrow; the teachers have a Work Day, so I'll be here." At a distant snore from the living room down the hall, the child closed the bathroom door with her foot and added softly, "I can't talk much more; I don't want to wake up Rita-kun, 'cause Hei-san asked me not to."

"Hei-san? Who's Hei-san? And why doesn't he want you to… Ayumi?"

The child yawned. "I think he's Kaito. That's who called you, right? Only I call him Hei-san. But he's him… I think." She yawned again.

And she did think they were the same, somehow. In the depths of her sleepy mind, three figures seemed to merge together easily, seamlessly, into one: Hei-san who had saved her from Ojiwa-sensei, Hei-san her friend and teacher, and the gentle-voiced visitor that had landed on her balcony so many months past. After all, he was a magician, wasn't he? In the end, it was a simple thing.

However, it didn't seem to be so easy for Aoko-san; Ayumi could practically hear the young woman on the other end of the conversation thinking very, very hard. "I... all right. I have to take care of something in the morning, but-- I'll be over as soon as I'm done, okay? What's your address?"

The little girl hesitated for a moment (her mother had told her not to tell that to strangers)-- but this was Hei-san's friend, and he was here already... so it was probably all right. As Aoko-san wrote down the address to her apartment, Ayumi felt a strong wash of gratitude run through her; she was good at lots of things, she knew, and Conan and Rin both had told her she was smart... but she was still glad to know a grownup was coming to take care of her wounded teacher. There was so much going on that she didn't understand...

"Ayumi? Are you still there?"

"Oh! Uh huh, sorry, I was just thinking about stuff. What?"

"How… badly is Kaito hurt? What happened to him, did he say? And WHY doesn't he want you to wake up-who did you say? Rita-kun? Who's she?"

"She lives down the hall; my mom and dad are out of town, so she's staying here. He-- I'm not sure how hurt he is. He got blood all over his clothes but I think he's finally stopped bleeding now, and he looks like he feels better but--"

Aoko had just made an indecipherable noise through the phoneline. "What?"

"--nothing... Just, just keep going... How did he get there without Rita-kun knowing?"

"He flew onto my balcony, I think. That's how he got here last time, anyway-- if it WAS him, and I think it was."

"....."

"Aoko-san? Are you there?"

"Ayumi? Listen, okay? I want you to answer me very carefully: HOW does he fly?"  The young woman's voice sounded rather strange.

Adults asked the weirdest things; why on earth would that matter? Ayumi blew out her breath in a sigh, then answered. "I only saw him fly one time, but he was on a white kite-thingie. He was getting away from the police helicopters then, and he flew away like he was a bird-- only he looked more like a paper airplane." She giggled again, remembering.

The other end of the phone was silent.

"Aoko-san? Can I ask you something before you go?"

"I... yes... go ahead." She sounded even funnier now, almost like she was trying not to cry or start yelling.

"Why do you call him Kaito? He said I could call him Hei-san..."

From the other end of the conversation she could hear a very deep breath being taken. "That's a very, very good question, Ayumi-kun. When I get there, I hope he'll be able to answer it for both of us. I'd like VERY much to come right over right now, but... but there's something important I have to take care of first."  The voice calmed a little, becoming firmer. "You go back and tell Kaito-- tell Hei-san that I'll be coming in the morning, all right? And tell him he had better not go anywhere, or I'll-- well, just tell him that if he disappears I'll put my mop where the sun doesn't shine, okay?"

The little girl frowned. "Where's that?"

"He knows… Good night, Ayumi-kun. And thank you."

"Aoko-san?"

"What?" The young woman still sounded very upset.

"How did you know my phone number? I didn't hear Hei-san-- Kaito-- tell you... I don't think he knows it either."

"My phone has an auto-redial feature. Goodnight, Ayumi-kun."

"Good night." The little girl blinked at the satisfaction in the answer as the connection cut off. Aoko sounded awfully nice but she *also* sounded like she had a bad temper. But then, Hei-san probably already knew that, if she chased him around with mops.

Padding softly down the hall, she peeked in on her babysitter; Rita-kun was still snoring away on the couch-- when she slept, she really slept.

As she slipped back into her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her, Ayumi looked at her guest, thinking about noise; good, Hei-san wasn't snoring. If he was going to sleep at the foot of her bed, at least he'd be quiet. His head jerked back up as she knelt beside him, holding out the glass of water; her stained pajamas dropped unnoticed onto the carpet beside him, rolled into a neat wad. "Hei-san? Kaito? Here you are... drink this." Gratefully he took the glass of water from her hand, swallowing it down in huge gulps. "Do you feel better now?" She leaned forward, pressing the back of one hand against his forehead like her mother always did. "You feel sort of warmer now-- you were awfully cold when you came in--"

The empty glass suddenly slipped from nerveless fingers as he stared at her, eyes wide. "Ayumi--? W-WHAT did you just call me?"

She thought. "Um... Kaito? That's what Aoko-san called you. She said she wants to ask you about why you have both names when she comes here in the morning… and she told me to tell you that if you disappear, she'll put her mop where the sun doesn't shine. Where IS that, anyway?" The child cocked her head to one side curiously as she picked up the glass. "She wouldn't tell me."

"Uhh..." Hei-san seemed almost to deflate, his face nearly as white as his clothing. Closing his eyes he asked her carefully: "She… Ayumi.  Ayumi.  When did you talk to Aoko?"

"When I was in the bathroom just now; she called back. She said her phone has an auto-redial feature,” Ayumi explained, not quite sure what that was but willing to offer it as an explanation.

"Oh.” He considered this for a moment. “And-- she'll be here in the morning?"

"Uh huh, after she does some important stuff, she said. And you can't disappear, or she'll put her mop where--"

"Yeah, yeah, I got that bit." Hei-san groaned softly, putting a gloved hand over his face for a moment; as he shifted slightly on the rug he dropped the hand to the floor to steady himself-- and something gleaming and silvery fell out of his sleeve. His eyes were still closed; curiously Ayumi reached down to pick it up.

It was a piece of jewelry, a big one, shaped like a teardrop; and in the broken moonlight that was beginning to flood in from the balcony door as the stormclouds blew away she could see that the glittering stone mounted in the center was green. It sparkled in the moonlight like a rainbow, almost as if many more colors than just green were in the stone, and Ayumi let it slide back and forth so that the colors could spill across her skin.

"Hei-san? What's this?" She held it up; as his eyes blinked open she noticed some sort of sticky stuff on the back of the piece of jewelry and wiped it away with a thumb. Yuck!

He jerked slightly, reaching out hurriedly to take it back. "Oh, great, now I'm aiding and-- and abetting in the corruption of minors… 'Yumi-chan, that's something you shouldn't touch--" Carefully he wiped it clean with the glove on his good hand, afterward tugging it off with his teeth and dropping it into his lap. The pendent glimmered brilliantly between his fingers as he turned it this way and that way, a faint smile crossing his face.

"Pretty thing, isn't it? There are… a lot of pretty gems in the world, though… and I'm just after one.  Just one.  You'd think that after all this time I'd be able to… to find it, but…"  He sighed, hand drooping to rest palm-up beside the glove.  Moonlight glimmered off of the gem's green surface, casting tiny glints of multicolored light across his lap.

Hei-san's eyes drifted closed again. Beside him the little girl sat very still, listening.  "Hei-san... Kaito?" she said softly, and he nodded; his voice was very soft, almost dream-like as he spoke.

"My father-- that's what he called himself too, a kaitou before me; it's almost the same, we're... almost the same.  He looked for it first, and They got him when… when he wouldn't do what they said.  I've been looking too."  Hei-san sighed, a painful sound that rasped through his lungs.  "So many different gems… the Golden Eye, the Blue Birthday… the Black Star… the Savannah Marquis, that stupid dog-collar, the Sultan's Luck, the Green Dream... and all the ones my father checked before me.  So many, and there're so many left, too."  He tilted his palm back and forth, eyes still closed, letting the pendant slide as if he were about to juggle it.

"So much work to get them, and then… when they aren't the right one… I always give 'em back.  Always.  'Cause they're never the Pandora Gem… never."

Ayumi's forehead wrinkled at the sadness in her friend's voice.  It was so strange, just sitting here in the fleeting shadows and the light of the full moon that was peering so brightly through the clouds outside now-- just listening to Hei-san's half-understood words.  And the gem lying in his hand... it was so pretty.  So bright--

--really bright--

"Hei-san?  Kaito?"

"Hm?  What?"  His eyes stayed closed; he almost seemed to be falling back asleep.

"Why's it glowing?"

At that, they did open.  "Why's what glowing--?  Wh--"

He caught his breath hard, staring down at his palm.  Then, seemingly without volition, the fingers of his right hand curled around the teardrop-shaped piece of jewelry lying there and he raised it up to hold it high in the full moon's light.

It glimmered like foxfire, casting a brilliant, scarlet-tinged rainbow through the greenness and over the faces of the little girl and the young man; tiny droplets of color danced everywhere in the light of the full moon.

And he whispered, "I found it.  I found it…"

Chapter Text

Something was very wrong.

Deep within a room in which sunlight never entered, a clock ticked discreetly. It was an excellent clock, certainly, all gilt and porcelain face with delicately fashioned hands and the most finely-crafted works, keeping very exact time; but it was useless.

The room's sole inhabitant had all the time in the world.

… tick… tick… tick… tick… tick… tick…

A second sound broke the stillness: a sort of elongated ssssshh as the room's owner drew on his cigar; the tip glowed like a jewel, simmering to brilliance and then fading a little grayer as ash formed. Fragrant wreaths of smoke floated invisibly in the shadowy air like serpents.

(Something was)

The room's inhabitant liked to come here to think. It was soothing, the dark; you could forget so much that irritated you if you couldn't see it-- and there was so much that was irritating about today's world, in his considered opinion. There were too many fools, for one thing… Oh, not that he had anything against the human herd's tendency towards lowest-common-denominator thinking-- it made them all that much easier to drive where he wanted them, really. Toss the right bait in front of them, dangle a handful of grain or a bit of rich pasture where they could see it and they took off through the gate of their own accord, never noticing that their path led them straight to the slaughterhouse.

No, it was the ones that decided to think for themselves that truly annoyed him in the long run. As if their weak little half-witted schemes and plans weren't blatantly obvious to one with the right kind of vision...

(Something was)

He blew a half-disgusted, half-amused cloud of smoke into the air, one eyebrow invisibly cocked as he shook his head in mocking resignation. Well, there would always be fools and there would always be those who would feed off of them; cattle and tigers, so to speak. Natural selection: that was the way the world went, wasn't it?

He had learned that long, long ago.

… tick… tick… tick… tick… tick… tick…

He glanced down at the shriveled, dead thing on the carpet and sighed; he supposed it needed to be dealt with. A fingertip pressed a button on the underside of his desk, and he went back to his meditations on what fed and what lived to be food. After a few moments a discreet buzz woke him from his reverie as the phone at his elbow signaled his attention; with a faint shrug, the room's owner picked it up and spoke one word: “Discretion.”

When two silent figures had entered and removed the corpse from his office, the man sat back, smoking, brows drawn down; his amusement had leaked away like wine from a cracked jug. As he drew on his cigar again prior to rising from the upholstered leather chair, he reflected darkly to himself that there seemed to be other beasts about beside cattle and tigers.

(Something was very, very wrong.)

* * *

It was, considered Kaitou Kid, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire, somewhat inevitable that he would end up hiding in someone's dark closet eventually. He had, after all, hidden in elevator shafts, on roofs, inside display cases, beneath floors, within (and suspended from) ceilings, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum. Therefore the chances that he should end up sooner or later in a stuffy, dark closet actually were rather high when you thought about it.

Not that he was in the dark, or at least not totally. Oh no... not completely. First off, the closet-door was open a couple of inches, letting in the cool moonlight; secondly, he had a rather avant-garde form of nightlight with him.

The young thief cupped his hands around the tiny, glowing ember that lay burning coolly on his palm, fascinated by how he could extinguish its light simply by blocking out the rays of the moon that had nearly disappeared behind the distant buildings. One finger in the way of the pale beams, and the crystalline red glow simply winked out; move the finger out of the way and it was back, like magic... It was an odd light; there was something in it which had the quality of heat, and even though it emitted not even the faintest warmth Kaitou felt that if he held it long enough it would, somehow, begin to burn him.

He supposed that was... understandable.

The young thief shifted a little, painfully; his shoulder was so goddamned stiff now, the muscles around his wound aching with every heartbeat. As for the wound itself-- well, never mind that; if he kept his mind off it enough, he might even forget how much it hurt (or at least that's what he'd told himself, lying there in the dark and trying to sleep. It hadn't worked.) His side was bad too; it was hard to take a breath without the deep score aching dreadfully, but it wasn't like he had a choice.

Sooo…. it was better to lie there and play with his new little acquisition than think about gunshot wounds and the inevitable explanations of the morning, really. And besides, the Pandora Gem was a great distraction.

I ought to hate you, you know, he thought at the glittering thing, almost as if it could hear him; it shone back noncommittally. My father died because of you-- my life got twisted into an unbelievable shape because of you. I ought to loathe every little shiny, gaudy scrap of whatever you're made of (I'm pretty damned sure you're not an emerald), I really should... and instead I'm sitting here playing with you like you're the coolest thing to come along since vitamin-enriched coffee. Why? Aside from the fact that I can't quite believe I finally, FINALLY managed to find you, that is...

He balanced the pendent on his knee, allowing the light to play across one door of the closet; for a minute or two Kaito amused himself by making hand-shadows dance across the surface (his dog-shadow was pretty good, his snarling lion was decent and he could do a pretty convincing pterodactyl too, but he needed both hands for that last one.) Heh; bet I'm the first to ever use you for this...  Somewhat dizzily Kaito wondered if he was becoming a bit feverish.

Ayumi had finally gone back to bed. The little girl had been too sleepy for explanations by the time her teacher managed to think clearly enough to formulate sentences (the discovery that his latest prize was actually honest-to-God really the thing he had been looking for had, basically, fried his synapses) and had accepted that he would tell both Aoko and her at the same time the next day.

Personally, every time he thought of that his left eyebrow would begin to twitch like a metronome; so he tried not to think of it too much.

... Aoko...

And that hadn't been working well either.

The closet was a bit on the small side for a wounded man (he couldn't really lie down, and his young apprentice seemed to have entirely too many shoes for real comfort) but it was definitely better than hiding under the bed. Kaito had briefly considered the possibility of bunking down in Ayumi's parents' bedroom, but had decided that any odd noises should come from inhabited rooms only-- and in his current condition he was a little clumsy. If Rita-kun heard him knock over something in a room where no-one was supposed to be, the jig would, quite disastrously, be up.

The moon was setting; there were probably only about ten minutes or so of its light left, so Kaito stopped with the hand-shadows. There was something else he wanted to check before the rays faded... Fishing in a small pocket inside his jacket he pulled out an old-fashioned jeweler's loupe, the kind one screwed into one eye; a year or so of snatching gems had given him a certain fascination for the things, and he had begun learning about their qualities not long after his dénouement as Kid. Holding the piece of jewelry between two fingertips with the moon behind it, he leaned close.

Veeeeery interesting... Some odd refractive qualities in this little monster, almost as if it's cracked; and I can't quite see all the way through the thing at the center, the glow's just too strong. Funny-- there're little dark flecks here and there, and WHAT the hell?!?   A sudden brown cloudiness had hazed across the gem, appearing from the brilliant center and spreading outward… and he smelled...

...roses?

Right; heh, roses. A gem that smells of flowers? I don't think so. Must be 'Yumi-chan's rose-bush on the balcony… but what's this blurring-- eeehhhw, there's something coming out of the back.  A tiny blob had appeared on the reverse of the gem (its enclosing silver fixture was merely a loop-setting, rather than a complete enclosure, though there were markings that showed that a back had once been there) seemingly out of nowhere. In the uncertain light it appeared somewhat gooey, and it reminded its examiner of nothing so much as a bit of tree-sap. He frowned a little, rubbing the stuff between his two fingers and wondering at the way it seemed to vanish into his skin so easily.

It tingled.

Okay, that's odd, I admit it; the stories about the Pandora Gem don't say anything about it oozing sticky little boogers all over the place.  The young thief drew back, regarding the stone with disfavor. I remember, the velvet beneath it was stained in the display; I wonder if this is something it does all the time, or does it have to do with the moon? Moonlight from the overhead skylight would have touched it for a few hours... Ah, damn, speaking of the moon, it's almost gone; better sit up a little more--

AAAGH!! @#$%!! shoulder--

His unthinking movements had set off fireworks in his shoulder and side again; a wave of pure misery shivered its way through his body, leaving Kaito sick and shaking in its wake. GOD, that hurts! Aoko, I know you're gonna feel like murdering me when you show up, but I hope I can persuade you to bandage me up before you turn me into a corpse; Ayumi meant well, but towels, tape and stuffed animals aren't really much help. Good thing the bullets didn't hit any lower on my shoulder, or I probably would've bled to death on that rooftop. The considerable dose of aspirin that he had downed before he sent his young friend back to bed was helping, as was the warmth of the little girl's room and the bathrobe that he had wrapped around himself; on the other hand, his clothes were still uncomfortably damp and his wounds still needed cleaning that the pounding rain had not been able to supply.

Better get some sleep, I guess... It's what, about four a.m. or so? Can't quite see the clock from here. 'Yumi-chan said that her friend Rita would be leaving for school around seven-ish… She'll probably be up in about two hours. A little sleep would be good, assuming I don't roll over or something of the sort. The young thief carefully eased himself back, settling in a more comfortable position as his breath came sharply. Y'know… in the movies, the hero-- Aaagh!-- gets all shot up and… manages to toss it off with, with just the occasional-- aaaow!-- wince or grimace; you never think about blood loss, or how nauseous pain makes you. You don't picture Schw-- SHIT, that hurts!-- Schwarzenegger or Chan or Lee with a splitting headache or… stiff muscles... Man, I'll never hear anybody say 'It's just a flesh-wound' the same way, that's for certain... rrrrgh...

Moving slowly and deliberately, he settled onto his right side; feeling had been coming back into his left arm over the past hour as the aspirin's effects set in, and he flexed the digits of his hand cautiously.  Aaaaah... I don't think I'll do that much for a while; never knew you needed your shoulder-muscles to flex you fingers.

From across the room he could hear Ayumi's steady, light breathing; the child slept the sleep of the innocent, a mere lump beneath the bedcovers from his vantage point. What a little trooper she was; smart, good in a crisis, loyal… and unfortunately tenacious when she got hold of an idea sometimes-- she still wanted to know 'where the sun doesn't shine' was...

His eyes closed. Aoko--

Kaito could see her so clearly in his mind, could see how she had looked that morning in school (was it really less than a day ago that things had still been what passed for 'normal' for him?  Get real, Kuroba; you and 'normal' parted ways a long time ago. Hell, you not only parted ways, you started a feud and occasionally take pot-shots at each other in passing. You wouldn't know normal if it bit you on the ass.)  She had been wearing the pendent he gave her beneath the collar of her uniform...

…and chasing him around the classroom.

He smiled slowly to himself, remembering:

SWOOSH! The mop's swing had barely missed his head, causing Kuroba Kaito to grin in appreciation; he always liked a good workout to begin his day, and Aoko seemed to be in fine form this morning. It hadn't even taken much to set her off, either; just a silly comment about how she seemed to be filling out her uniform much better these days… The familiar glare had begun to smolder in her eyes, and he could almost swear that little lightnings had crackled there as she pulled her mop from seemingly empty space--

SWOOSH-SWISH!

Oooo, good one; she got in a double swing there, Kaito-- better get your butt in gear and stop admiring her technique, not to mention her legs--

As he ducked a fairly emphatic jab-and-swat and reposted with a sideways bounce from an empty desktop, the teenager overheard a scrap of conversation from the back of the room. One eyebrow arched slightly as he strained to listen while pelting past:

"…No way! Look at 'em go, she hasn't yet managed to-- 500 yen says you can't do it--"

"Really? You're on! HEY, KUROBA-KUN? HAVE YOU KISSED HER YET?"

Bwuh? He skidded to a sudden stop at the yell, his mind tripping over itself. Uh--

WHAMMM!!

He wobbled in mid-run and fell over with a thud onto a hapless tangle of desk and classmate, his ears ringing from the impact of Aoko's mop. In the background he could hear a smug voice proclaim: "There, toldja I could make her hit him. So fork over my 500 yen… Arigato, nice doing business with you."

DAMN. She actually landed one... wheeeeow, that girl's got a strong right arm. Now, who the *hell* was making bets--?

Slowly he clambered to his feet, ignoring the muffled protests beneath him ("Kuroba, could you please get yourself off me? That's my hand you're standing on--OW! Watch the feet--") as his gaze swept the classroom. Ahh, right-- Yamada-kun, you're dead meat. Gonna make sure something really special shows up in your lunch today; maybe I should just inflict you with severe diarrhea or something like that, I think I still have those castor-oil capsules in my locker...

Across the room Hinagi Yamada caught his eye and immediately attempted to look innocent; however, his apparent incipient sainthood faded away as his gaze drifted past his classmate's shoulder, and Kaito also turned to look. Nakamori Aoko glowered; from where she stood, her glare seemed quite capable of turning her target to stone or possibly inflicting a fiery death. She had soldiered her mop across one shoulder; as she slowly, slowly approached her prey at a steady stalk, the unfortunate Yamada-kun opened and shut his mouth like a landed fish, frantically looking for a way out.

Kaito grinned and crossed his arms; it looked like his castor-oil capsules wouldn't be needed after all.

"For your information, he hasn't-- I mean, he-- That's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS-- Oooooh!!" Her words suddenly stammered to a stop as Aoko's face reddened. Behind her back, her former target's grin grew even wider; that ought to fan the flames quite a bit. Nothing made a person angrier than saying something that they hadn't intended to.

As Aoko dropped the mop from her shoulder into her hands and assumed an all-too-familiar pose of attack, her new quarry seemed to shrink. "Um, Aoko-kun-- D-don't get carried away, okay? Just a harmless little question-- didn't mean anything by it, what you two do together is, uhh, is… uh... AAGH!!!" Yamada-kun yelped in terror as the mop came down quite suddenly, barely missing his own head. "HELP!" He took off at a frantic run, dashing towards the exit. Catcalls and cheers followed him, ending abruptly as he skidded full-tilt into their teacher as she entered the door.

"AAAAHH!"

CRASH!

Papers fluttered everywhere, accompanied by muffled imprecations. By the time things were under control and apologies had been made, Kaito was leaning back nonchalantly in his desk, hands behind his head. As Aoko slid into hers with a scarlet face and a faint, smug grin, another classmate leaned over towards her usual target and prison-whispered:

"Hey, Kuroba-kun? Why HAVEN'T you kissed her yet? I mean, we all kinda got a clue at the party that you two were--"

Kaito chuckled very softly, clasping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "'Cause she'd beat me into a bloody pulp if I pushed things, that's why. Besides…" and he cracked one eye open, watching the Inspector's daughter surreptitiously; she was still blushing, but he saw her fingers come up to fleetingly touch the silver pendent hanging around her neck; "… besides, haven't you heard the saying that 'All things come to those who wait'?" He chuckled again.

From across the room, Hakuba Saguru glowered.

* * *

As his breathing gradually slowed in prelude to sleep, the Phantom Thief hidden in the closet smiled a little painfully to himself. All things come to those who wait... That included the bad things as well as the good, he supposed. In a couple of hours he'd be spilling his secrets to one Nakamori Aoko in the sort of situation that usually only happened during his worst nightmares.

But he couldn't say that he hadn't really wanted to tell her now and then, not really; sometimes the nightmares had turned around into dreams, good ones, the sort that made Kaito replay them wistfully when he woke up. He guessed it all depended on how she took it; if she managed to forgive him all the lies and misdirections somehow, then…

But if she didn't... oh, if she didn't...

The pain that crossed the young thief's face had very little to do with the Kaitou Kid and a lot to do with Kuroba Kaito. If she hates me-- I-- Ah, hell. If she hates me, and she just may, I think I'll wish I had died in that shootout.

She hates Kid, and she hates what he makes her father do. But she… cares for me. I think... I guess it all depends on which is stronger, doesn't it? God, Aoko... What reason have I given you to not hate me, anyway? Ten years or so of friendship, and-- and the something-more that it's turned into lately? We haven't even had time for it to really grow, not yet, even if it can-- even if I could allow it to. The Inspector's daughter and an international criminal… yeah, right, great future THAT little relationship would have. Ever notice that 'fat chance' means the same as 'slim chance'?  He sighed; on the other side of the room Ayumi shifted in her sleep and murmured a little, causing his eyes to blink back open.

Let's face it, Kuroba: this just might be the last time you see her. Yesterday was probably the last 'normal' day you'll ever have, the last time you had the chance to sleep in your own bed or go to school… the last chance to be who you've been. When you swore to avenge Oyaji you said you'd do anything to make Them pay; well, it looks like it's time to ante up. What'll you do if she--

--No. Don't think she'd do that-- she wouldn't call her dad or the rest of the cops, not right away, no matter how mad she gets. I think she'd give me time to run--

…and… then what?  He stared bleakly out into the darkness of the closet.

I know Jii'll help me… and Kaasan... I'll have to explain to her too, though I doubt I'll have to tell her much. I mean, there's no freaking way she hasn't figured things out, at least a little; probably a lot, to tell the truth. But I might as well plan on kissing my old life a big, fat goodbye right now. That's what seeing Aoko will be in a few hours-- a chance to say goodbye.

And that's all. Unless she understands and forgives me, which isn't very likely.

Why should she, after all?  Because I gave her a stupid necklace?  Because I've been picking on her and playing tricks on her and basically acting like a total idiot around her for years?  Because… because I've been running from her so goddamn fast all this time and really, really just wanted her to CATCH me?-- I--

Shit. Where'd that thought come from?

Kaito winced in pain as the muscles in his neck tensed, pulling at his wounded shoulder. A jab of misery shot through him, and he gritted his teeth.

You swore you'd give anything and everything to make Oyaji's murderers pay; right. Time to keep your promise. If being Kid costs you any chance to ever be Kuroba Kaito again, you'll just have to deal with it, close that door and lock it behind you. Bet it'll hurt a hell of a lot more than a gunshot, though.

Aoko... should've kissed you while I had the chance.

His eyes closed again, tightly; something wanted to leak out, and he couldn't let it. With his hand closed tightly around the silver-and-gemstone bauble resting on his palm like a promise, the young thief curled up to drift in restless sleep for a few hours. It was all the peace he was likely to get.

* * *

**click-click-bzzz** "--and it's six-thirty aye-em on the dot here in beautiful downtown Tokyo under partly cloudy skies. Let's start the half hour off with a string of hits from one of America 's greatest Country-Western singers, Merl Haggard: 'My Problems Got Problems', followed by 'Misery And Gin' and 'I Always Get Lucky With You'. Wake up out there and smell the coffee, mina-san--"

**CLICK**

A hairy-knuckled, groping hand managed to shut the horribly perky-voiced alarm off after only three tries, which was actually pretty good on the average. Nakamori Ginzo HATED American Country-Western music with a deep and abiding passion, which was, of course, why he had his alarm clock set on Tokyo's only CW station. He figured that, if nothing else, the sheer annoyance factor would get him out of bed in order to shut the goddamned @#$%!! thing up.

This method was occasionally rather hard on alarm clocks, understandably; Nakamori really wasn't much of a Morning Person.

Blearily the Inspector rolled over to stare at the ceiling above his bed, the night's events beginning to flood back into his sleep-fogged brain like a bad dream. He scratched at his jawline, the stubble rasping under his nails as he yawned and began the slow, grudging process of Getting Ready For Work.

Rrrrghh. Want a SMOKE, dammit.

Bathroom ablutions completed, he managed somehow to get dressed on autopilot as gray thoughts of thieves, bullets, hacked computer files and far too much paperwork stomped across his mind in random disorder, scattering any attempts at coherency like panicked sheep. As he fumbled beneath the edge of his bed with sock-clad toes for his shoes, he sniffed experimentally: well, at least something was going right-- he could smell breakfast and, more importantly, coffee.

Coffee. Need coffee. Need caffeine-- Need uurgh? Uhh? Shoes? Where're my shoes? That was odd--

No shoes? No shoes. Probably got stolen by goddamned Kid, for all I know. Shoes. Must've left 'em downstairs.  He tended to take them up with him to his bedroom after removing them at the door, but no-one was perfect and he HAD stumbled in at some ungodly hour, he didn't really remember or care when...  Shuffling like a Night of the Living Dead castmember, Nakamori made his groggy way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Coffee. Breakfast. Aoko? Right, left her sleeping on the couch with that kitten of hers. Should be getting ready for school 'bout now… Coffee...

He had reached the point of half-past-the-first-cup and was well into his breakfast when it registered that the figure who sat quietly drinking her own cup of coffee on the couch was indeed his daughter Aoko, who by all rights should be almost out the door by now. Bleary eyes managed to focus on this fact and channel it towards the more awake parts of the brain. "Urgh? Aoko? You sick or something?"

"No." Turning a page of whatever she was reading, the Inspector's daughter calmly took another sip. "Just staying home today; I have some things I need to take care of." She was already dressed, not in her usual school uniform but in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt; some part of her father's slowly waking grey matter wondered why she seemed to have oil-stains on her hands-- it wasn't really like Aoko to be messy.

It wasn't like her to miss a day of school, either; wasn't he supposed to call in about that sort of thing? Another deep swallow of coffee made things a little clearer; he was. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth--

"I already called in and left a message for the office at school that I wouldn't be in; they'll call your office later and confirm it." She sounded remarkably awake, if maybe a little stressed (but then, this was Aoko, after all. She wouldn't be his daughter if she wasn't stressed.)

About then her previous comment caught up with him. Things to take care of?  Huh... "Uhh… Aoko? What things?"

"Just… things." She turned a page again, a slightly strained look of concentration on her face; one rather wild lock of hair fell down into her eyes. "We had a kind of unusual phone call last night..."

"Rmph?  Who from?" He shoveled another bite into his mouth, wondering what she was talking about.

"…I'm-- not exactly sure. They wanted to warn you that somebody'd be waiting to kill you at work today." She turned another page quietly, her eyes on the words before her.

"MMPHH!!"

He choked, trying not to spray breakfast in every direction. "WHMPH DMPH YUPH TLPH MPH RITF AWMPH?!?" Swallowing hard, Nakamori took a huge gulp of his coffee (it was too hot, but somehow that got lost in the moment) and swiveled around to stare at his daughter; he was suddenly quite wide awake, all traces of fog vanishing in a split second. "--Why the HELL didn't you wake me up? AOKO!! Thought I'd taught you better than that--"

At his tone the girl glanced up... and he finally got a proper look at her face.

"…Aoko?"

Inspector Nakamori Ginzo had never been a particularly sentimental man; he was gruff and a bit thick-hided and he knew it. But he could recognize trauma when he saw it, and he was seeing it now in his daughter's face. There had been a young officer killed in the department the previous month during a random drug-bust; what he was looking at now reminded him of how that officer's partner had looked during the funeral.

"Aoko--?" He stood up, chopsticks in one hand and coffee cup in the other, sloshing a little. "What--" But she was looking away from him now, the shadowed, reddened eyes shutting everything inside.  A small part of Nakamori noted that her face was sort of-- what was the word? drawn, as if she had been stretched out too thinly to bear and might be about to snap. "Aoko, what're you-- Wait; just… tell me what they said, okay?" He tried to gentle his voice a bit for her sake.

She drew a deep breath before speaking, closing the notebook that lay in her lap; distantly her father noticed that it was one of his personal dossiers on criminals, and in particular on Kaitou Kid. "They said," she answered him distinctly and calmly, "that if you went in to work this morning… you'd die. They said that there was someone waiting to ambush you-- someone in your office, I think." Aoko closed her eyes, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. "You can't go in."

Rising like the Wrath of God from his chair, Nakamori's moustache bristled as he growled out, "The hell I can't-- Who was it ?" At her silent headshake his brows drew down. "Anonymous? Goddammit, like I NEED something else to make this week worse-- You sure you don't know who it was?"

She was silent for a moment, then glanced fleetingly back at him in a flash of blank, dark eyes. "I… no. No, I-- don't think I recognized them at all." Her words seemed to carry an odd silence with them, like the echo you get after a cry of pain.

Leaving his dishes where they lay, the Inspector scooped up his keys and wallet and started for the door. "Shit.  Just… shit. Never mind--" He headed towards the door, stepping to one side to toe his shoes on...

...which weren't there. His shoes weren't there.   In irritation he thumped back up the stairs for another pair.

*

Downstairs his daughter waited, a thin crease showing between her eyebrows as she listened to her father's progress above. She might have seemed quite relaxed, quite at ease, if you didn't notice the way that her hands were shaking as they opened the notebook once more. She began to read the Inspector's terse account of a heist six months earlier, her thoughts sweeping back in time…

("Kaito? What's with you--you're slower than usual. What's the matter, you-- Ouch! What'd you do to yourself?" The Inspector's daughter had drawn her breath in sharply at the sight of her friend's wrist as his sleeve caught on the edge of the desk and slid up a bit. The skin was mottled black and blue with bruises, but the young man just glanced up with his usual wry grin.

"Nothing worth mentioning-- just took a few steps too many on the stairs and whammed myself but good when I fell. Happens to the best of us--" He shrugged, then blinked innocently up at her. "--or the worst."

She scowled, thumping down into her desk. "Can't trust you to take care of yourself for a minute, can I? You'd better put some ice on that before it swells."

"Jeeze, Aoko, it's just a bruise or two…" He had rolled his eyes at her concern, which had swiftly begun to escalate into annoyance as he gave her a charming smile that flickered around the edges with teasing. "Sweet of you to be so worried though; wanna kiss it and make it all better?"

The resulting mop-chase had been perhaps a hair slower than usual, but not by much.)

And now she stared blankly down at the report, reading the words through a haze of exhaustion. There was a brief mention of a quick scuffle on the way down some stairs, ending when the Phantom Thief made his getaway with the goods by literally running across the heads and shoulders of his pursuers BACK up the way they had all come. Nakamori had broken the point of his pencil when describing that bit.

She could understand his reaction.

It's funny; I feel sort of numb, I guess…  It was a little of like the time she had had to have her appendix out when she was nine; she remembered how it had felt, going under the anesthetic… all nice and fuzzy-edged, wrapped in a cloud of not-caring, not-upsetness, not-feeling.

Kaito had brought her flowers at the hospital. Of course, he had pulled them out of nowhere, making them appear in a puff of smoke... The magic trick had broken through the not-feelingness, just like the sharp edges of pain kept trying to right now. And she did feel, really-- it just seemed a little distant, a little removed by grey, muted walls of shock and realization. You could only have hysterics for so long, after all, before you got so tired that they stopped out of sheer lack of energy.

You didn't tell me, Kaito-- you've always told me everything and you didn't tell me when you started this. I thought we were-- friends, at least. More, maybe. But you didn't tell me. WHY?  Under the numbness there was an odd sort of ache, a dull burning...

When she had hung up the phone the night before, she had been so full of confusion and bewildered betrayal that she had been fairly useless for quite a while; HOW could Kaito be-- him?  Really him?  It just wasn't possible, was it?

Apparently it was. She turned a page, feeling the numbness receding a little more as the heat beneath it grew-- it was helping with the exhaustion, burning it away like fog. But… every time she would try to work out the reasons behind what Kaito seemed to have done (and there had to be reasons, didn't there? There just had to be) her feelings would swell, overwhelming rational thought with pain and a sharp-edged twist like her heart was going to split in two.  Aoko blinked at the writing as the letters blurred a little; she wasn't going to cry again, she wasn't... she had done enough of that a few hours earlier.

She had felt like a total idiot.

But Nakamori Aoko was not an idiot, and neither was Kuroba Kaito; he had to know by now that she was coming, and that she would expect ANSWERS, lots of them.  Her fingers clenched on the paper between them, tearing it slightly as the burning beneath the pain grew a little more, banishing the cold shock a bit at a time the way a fire burns away ice.

Kuroba Kaito going to answer her questions whether he liked it or not. That, at least, was certain. And until he did she would try to forget the little, nagging voice that kept whispering about him being hurt. If he was hurt, he probably deserved it.

Her father was thudding back down the stairs now, a peculiar look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, and she cut him off for the second time that morning. "I hid them."

"Huh?"

"Your shoes-- every single pair of them." She shrugged, a faint but humorless smile crossing her face as the last of the numbness receded in a thin, grey tide from her thoughts. "It seemed like a good idea; you can't go to work without shoes, can you? And I knew you'd want to. You just can't, though. I'm sorry." Staring up at her father's slowly-reddening face, she casually added, "And I hid a few other things too..."

"...like what?"

"Oh... both our phones... the sparkplugs from the car... that sort of thing." She glanced back up at him again, her smile fading into a stubborn, stony glare the Inspector knew only too well. "You can't go in. I won't let you."

Glaring back down again at his daughter in growing outrage, Nakamori sputtered incoherently and set off in fruitless search of the missing items. His daughter watched him go, thinking of the horrified response his coworkers had given her when she had called in-- had the bomb-squad found anything? They had to have searched his office by now... I want to know how you knew, Kaito-- I want to know how you found out about people trying to kill Tousan. I want to know EVERYTHING, and I want to know why you didn't tell me in the first place.

I want to know why you didn't trust me.

Oh, right; now she recognized the burning in the depths of her heart: it was anger. Good, anger was familiar, anger was something Aoko could cope with; she could deal with it a lot better than she could with pain.

* * *

In the depths of a little girl's closet, one dark blue eye flickered open and winced a little with confusion and a jolt of agony. Without moving, Kuroba Kaito allowed memory to slowly filter back into his brain...

Mrmphgl... Awake. OW-- shoulder HURTS, side HURTS.

Not at home-- wherewhat?  Uhhh... oh. Oh yeah . I remember now... good news and bad news. Good news: Found the Pandora Gem, go me! Bad news: Aoko knows, so I'm utterly screwed. Doomsday, basically-- gonna have to tell her everything and she'll hate me forever

Just freaking wonderful; should've stayed asleep. Feel awful anyway, so stiff I can hardly move. Where's 'Yumi-chan?

He could hear the soft rustling of cloth, a slight sliding sound… then footsteps, small and lightweight.  The closet door slid open a bare inch. "Hei-san?" whispered a tiny mouse-voice; he could see a single sleepy eye peering through the crack.  "Are you okay?"  A shaft of light fell through the opening to lie like a band of fire across the wounded thief's face and he winced again, putting one finger to his lips and nodding a fraction. The little girl blinked at her guest, then nodded back and slid the door closed again; her footsteps pattered across the floor towards the door and out into the hall as she chirped, "Rita-kun, I'm uuuup! Ohayou! You better get ready for school... is breakfast ready? I'm hungry, Rita-kun!"

Noises in the background seemed to indicate that Rita-kun had rejoined the world of the conscious and was groggily being rousted from her couch. Kaito swallowed and tried to edge a little further back among the shoes and dust-bunnies, hoping desperately that 'Yumi-chan could steer her away from the closet.

He needn't have worried; the little girl chattered her way through breakfast at a fast rate, and Rita-kun left for her classes without a hitch, promising to stop back by during lunch. In the closet the teenager sighed in relief as the door latched securely behind the cheerful young woman with the American accent; she sounded nice and all, but he doubted that she would accept a Phantom Thief as part of her charge's usual closet décor.

Wonder how long it'll take Aoko to get here?  God, I hope she kept her dad from going in-- Nakamori, you may be an idiot sometimes but you're HER dad, and there are enough people without fathers in the world.  'Sides, you're sort of my pet cop; I've known you since I was 'Yumi's age.  Wonder what you'd think of that?

Lying supine on the dusty floor with his head resting on a child-sized pair of tennishoes, he sighed and morosely considered the situation.  He hurt like hell (though it didn't seem to be quite as bad as it had been the night before-- oddly enough any fever seemed to have burned itself out), the only clothes he had were a bloodstained white suit, he wasn't really fit to travel, he was missing school (Kaito wondered what Hakuba would have to say about that; probably something pointed and British… 'Tally ho', maybe?), and last but not least he was going to have to Explain to Aoko-kun.

Life sure bit sometimes, didn't it?

Of course, on the plus side, he was alive; Nakamori was alive (he hoped); he hadn't been arrested, at least not yet; and he actually had the Pandora Gem.  And shouldn't I be smashing that to bits about now, like I swore I would?  Opening his good hand he peered at it a little muzzily (apparently he had slept with it clutched tight, like a rather expensive security blanket); the stone and metal fittings were cold against his palm, faintly sticky with whatever had been oozing out the night before.  Maybe I'd better wait 'til Aoko actually sees it-- a good show needs good props, and if this is the last time I ever see her I want to make sure she really understands why I did what I did. I owe her that.

Not that I expect it to help...  She's a good person, an honest person, the daughter of a cop; I'm a thief, no matter how you look at it.  The best thing I can do for her is disappear from her life completely… if I can. If I can bear to.  Shit.  He sighed as the leaden depression from the night before settled back into place, slipping the gem into his pocket again; his skin tingled where he had touched it and he found himself unconsciously flexing the fingers of his left arm where it lay taped against his waist. Funny-- it really didn't seem to hurt as much as he would expect it to--

The sound of soft footsteps and something being placed on the tiles preceded the sliding back of the closet door; Kaito flinched at the brilliance of the early sunlight pouring in from the balcony door as his young apprentice plopped herself down crosslegged on the floor opposite him. "I got you some breakfast," she informed him, settling herself beside the tray she had brought and holding out a plastic cup decorated with the cast of Sailor Moon.

Slowly the young thief managed to sit up, grimacing as his movements made cloth that was currently stuck to his wounds tug and pull painfully; he was weaker than he liked, but he managed a faint smile as he took the cup in his good hand. The warmth of the liquid inside felt good against his skin; gratefully he took a swallow, smiling a little as he realized that it was warm milk sweetened with something: honey?  Snagging a dish from the tray, he somewhat awkwardly took a bite; apparently Ayumi's idea of breakfast for Phantom Thieves had a lot to do with toast and some sort of oddly-colored breakfast cereal with marshmallows in it-- well, good. He could probably use the sugar. Besides, he liked marshmallows.

For several minutes the sunlit room was filled with the sounds of crunching and slurping; Kaito would have found the whole thing to be fairly surreal if he hadn't been so hungry-- he felt like someone had hollowed out his stomach and replaced it with a black hole. I'm amazed I can eat, what with almost Certain Doom hanging over my head, but I guess the body doesn't care about stuff like that.  All it wants to do is heal.  And it was hard not to cheer up (at least a little) with such a charming breakfast companion...

The marshmallows helped too.

Ayumi drank the last of her own milk (Kaito eyed the small white kitten-face beaming cheerfully from her red plastic cup and shuddered), wiped her mouth with one sleeve and smiled up at her guest.  "You look like you're feeling better, Hei-san; does it still hurt?"  She cocked her rather tousled head to one side, regarding him critically.  "You're still awfully pale, though… and you never told me how you got hurt.  Did you..." The little girl hesitated; he could practically see the wheels turning inside her head. "If you're-- are you REALLY Kaitou Kid?  Mitsuhiko-kun says you're a really great thief… but... the police are always trying to catch you, I know that.  Did you--" Her eyes suddenly grew round; "Did you get shot?"

Ooooboy.  Maybe I should have a sudden relapse? I don't know to explain this to an adult, much less a little innocent like 'Yumi-chan…  Swallowing another gulp from his own cup with a throat that suddenly felt a little too tight, Kaito hesitated. "Well-- um, I--"

BZZZZZZZTT!!  The door-buzzer from the apartment building's main entrance went off; they both jumped, and Ayumi scrambled to her feet to run to the intercom in the front room, leaving one very nervous Phantom Thief behind her.  He tensed, feeling jagged lines of pain crawling down his skin as his muscles tightened; Aoko? Oh man...

He swallowed hard, his last bite of toast sticking in his throat.  Kuroba Kaito, it's dawn; present yourself for the Firing Squad. Or would you prefer hara-kiri? No?  With a sinking heart he listened to the distant murmur of a familiar, transmitted voice and Ayumi's response.  She'll be up in a minute, huh?  Great.  Ready… Aim... FIRE! and down he goes...

I should be so lucky.

Ayumi padded back into the room. T he child was still wearing her flannel pajamas; a small frown found its way onto her face, and she put her hands onto her hips as she surveyed him. "You look like you're afraid you're going to get yelled at. Won't Aoko-san help fix you where you're hurt?  She's your friend, isn't she?"

Kaito nodded, leaning back against the closet wall; he had managed to prop himself up in a more-or-less sitting position, but he still felt shaky and weak. "Don't your friends yell at you sometimes?"

She nodded, still frowning; pushing her hair back from her face, she wandered over to her dresser and began pulling clothes out. "A little, maybe... when they're worried, mostly. Conan yells sometimes when he tries to stop us from doing something that he thinks'll get us hurt." She rolled her eyes, looking remarkably exasperated. "He can be such a GROWNUP sometimes."

Kaito couldn't help himself-- a snicker snuck out, and Ayumi stuck her bottom lip out at him. "Well, he can-- sometimes he acts like he knows everything and we don't know anything at all, but I remember lots of times he got stuck or did something silly that got him in trouble.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“...Mmmm... Like when he got hit on the head at that castle place, or the time he got shot in the stomach, or--"

The young thief felt his eyebrows going up; this sounded interesting.  "Really? Hey, did he ever--"

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!!

Reflex kicked in; AAACK!! Policeman's knock-- Ohshitohshitohshit!! What'll I d-- Oh. Oh right.  Aoko had inherited her father's knock; he had known that, of course, but... And as Ayumi scooted back into the living room to let her in, somehow the knowledge that he wasn't about to be arrested just didn't help all that much.

Not at all, actually.

There were the sounds of a door opening and closing; a tentative voice greeted the little girl politely. Kaito sat quite still, staring down at the dregs in the bottom of his Sailor Moon cup. A questioning murmur-- and then two sets of footsteps came down the hall...

Chapter Text

I spoke to you in cautious tones; you answered me with no pretense
And yet I feel I said too much --my silence is my self-defense.
For every time I've held a rose it seems I've only felt the thorns;
And so it goes, and so it goes, and so will you soon, I suppose…
But if my silence makes you leave then that will be my worst mistake;
So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break.

(Billy Joel, 'And So It Goes')

Everything starts somewhere, somewhen.

Later on, when she had a moment to really sit down and think about it, Aoko would remember the instant when she had rounded the doorway and seen Kaito sitting there, so obviously a world away from the boy she had grown up with; and she would think, That's when it started. That's when it all changed.

Of course, if you really went back a bit to the absolute root of things, it had all actually begun with the phonecall the night before-- but somehow, she supposed, things could have come out differently at that point. She might have hung up on him, or not believed what she heard, or been so sleepy that she simply dropped back off and forgotten everything in the way that you forgot dreams... No; it was when she walked through a little girl's bedroom door and simply froze, staring, that began things, in much the way that a minute-hand on a clock begins a new hour when it ticks past the final second of the old.

The taxi ride over had brought her anger down to a fine, even simmer rather than a boil; metaphorically, she was sharpening her claws. In the background of her mind the young woman did her best to ignore the little niggle of worry that kept poking at her (words like hurt and bleeding seemed to have developed a lot of importance); just in case, in her backpack she had brought along the rather sizeable first-aid kit that she kept in the kitchen. Just in case.

She wished she could have included her mop as well, but explaining that to the taxi driver might have been awkward. Oh well, maybe this 'Ayumi-chan' (whoever she was) would have one she could borrow.

'Ayumi-chan' turned out to be a bright-looking little girl of eight or so, wearing flannel pajamas and an inquisitive look; she bobbed in a polite schoolgirl's bow as she let her guest in, smiling. "Hajimemashite, Aoko-san; my name's Yushida Ayumi." She closed the door behind them both.

Aoko attempted a smile of her own; her face felt oddly tight. "Um, yoroshiku, Ayumi-I'm Nakamori Aoko." She glanced swiftly around what seemed to be a fairly normal apartment-- there didn't seem to be any wounded felons perched anywhere on the furniture. "Kaito--?"

The child nodded. "I guess you're worried about him, aren't you? I'm glad you came over, Aoko-san, 'cause think he's still hurting an awful lot even though he isn't saying so." As she led the way down the hall towards what was probably a bedroom, the little girl glanced back over one shoulder and added seriously "Boys are like that-- they either whine a lot and act like babies when they get hurt or they don't tell you ANYTHING about it."

Nodding silently, the young woman followed. She supposed that this was true.

When they reached the door, Ayumi simply walked in, saying "Hei-san? She's here…" Aoko hesitated, feeling a very peculiar mixture of emotions: reluctance, anger, curiosity… and hope-- hope that maybe, somehow, it wasn't all true and he wasn't really... Shaking her head as if dislodging a stinging fly, Nakamori Aoko stepped in through the doorway.

"Hello, Aoko." He was sitting inside a closet, face pale and somewhat smeared here and there with grime; incongruously he seemed to be clutching a Sailor Moon mug loosely in one hand. As she quietly approached, she could hear the little girl behind her hop up onto the bed and settle down with a shuffle of pillows.

Slowly and a little numbly the Inspector's daughter took in all the details: the rather dirty white suit, the silky cloak (mostly hidden by what seemed to be a bathrobe draped over his shoulders), the clumsy arrangement of bandages and tape, the top hat and monocle on the closet floor, the calm poker-face that looked suddenly so alien (and yet so very, very familiar-- how had she missed it? How the hell had she missed it?) on the features before her.

Hope died swiftly.

"See?" said the child at her back. "He looks like he hurts; can you fix him? I tried to last night, but I couldn't get his jacket off. I'll go get the medicine kit from the bathroom--"

"Don't bother; I've got one with me," said the dark-haired young woman absently, pushing her hair back from her face with rather unsteady hands. She dropped her backpack onto the floor, noting distantly that it seemed peculiarly heavy; it made an odd sort of thump as it settled. "How badly are you hurt?" The question was addressed to Kaito, who blinked.

"Ah-- two gunshot wounds, one through the shoulder and the other along the ribs. I'm pretty sure the bullets aren't still in, but my shirt and coat are pretty well stuck to me." He blinked again, some of his composure slipping. "Why are you…? You're going to bandage me just like that? Without my even asking?"

She shrugged, turning away. "Ayumi-kun? Could you please bring me a couple of washcloths and towels, some scissors and a really big bowl of hot water from the sink?" Aoko's voice was quite calm and rather cool. The child nodded at her, then slid back down from the bed and bounced through the door towards the kitchen.

* * *

"See, Hei-san? I TOLD you she'd help…" The cheerful voice carried down the hall, interspersed with the opening and closing of drawers and the sounds of a tap being turned on. Kaito sighed, closing his eyes and allowing his head to drop back against the wall for a second.

Wish it was that simple, 'Yumi-chan… I really, really do.

The rustling of cloth made his eyes snap back open; Aoko was kneeling before him, staring intently and expressionlessly into his face. Kaito's immediate instinct was to shrink back, but the faint jerk of movement he made caused his face to whiten and an involuntary gasp to slip out. "So-- aren't you going to ask?" he said faintly, wiping at his forehead with his good hand.

"Ask what?" Her voice was so quiet, not like her usual shouts and caterwaulings when she was angry. And she WAS angry, he could practically feel it radiating like steam from her skin. "Ask you why you're Kaitou Kid? Ask you why you rob people?" The words lost a little of their calmness as they sped up. "Ask you why you never told me about this? Ask you why you never TRUSTED me? Little things like that? Are those the questions you think I should ask, Kaito?"

Her dark eyes glittered as she glared at him, fire beginning to rage in hot coals just below the surface. "No… no, I don't think I'm going to ask you any of those questions. Want to know why not?"

He shifted again nervously, ignoring the jolt of pain from his wounds and staring her straight in the face; he couldn't back down now. "Okay… Why not?"

"Because you are going to tell me everything right now. And I do mean EVERYTHING. Or else."

Kaito winced again from the fierceness in her voice-- she didn't sound cold now, not in the least; and he didn't think the 'or else' she was referring to had anything to do with calling the cops. "Do you hate me for this, Aoko?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his own voice steady and not to burst out with what he really wanted to say: Please don't say yes, don't hate me, don't--

She closed her eyes and sat back on her heels; a tremor seemed to flicker its way through her as she spoke between gritted teeth. "I-- hate Kaitou Kid; I'm not sure how I feel about you yet."

--please don't say yes, please don't-- Oh.

And as Ayumi came back into the room with a pile of terrycloth and other items, he supposed that that would just have to do for the moment.

* * *

The basin of hot tap-water sloshed slightly as Yushida Ayumi sat it down onto the floor beside her two guests; with utter disregard for the small puddle, the girl plopped down crosslegged next to them. Still clutching her stack of washcloths and towels, she gingerly offered Aoko the scissors. "I got the really sharp ones from my Kaasan's sewing stuff; are you going to have to cut his shirt off?" She cocked her head to one side, watching in interest and concern as the young woman carefully slid her father's bathrobe from Hei-san's shoulders. "That's what they do on all the police shows on TV when somebody gets shot..."

Aoko nodded, glancing at her with a slightly strained smile of thanks as she snipped away at tape and bandages. "Yes I am, and he's going to have to just sit still and quiet for a few minutes while I do it. Right, Kaito?"

She fixed Ayumi's teacher with a glare; he swallowed, slumping a little as she slid one of the scissor-blades inside his left shirt and coat sleeves. "First you want me to tell you everything, then you-- OW! Watch it!-- want me to shut up… Agh!! Aoko owowOW--!!" He hissed in pain as a tug from the young woman peeled back the sleeves, showing long runnels of stains down the length of his arm.

Hei-san clenched his eyes shut as he braced himself against the closet door-frame, biting his lip hard; he looked awfully pale, and Ayumi wondered briefly if it was more because his friend had been yelling at him than because he was hurting (they had tried to be quiet, she could tell that, but she had been able to hear them all the way down the hall. Aoko-san's voice was sort of loud.) The child's forehead wrinkled as her teacher gritted his teeth; the stains on his jacket and shirt looked a lot bigger and worse than they had in the dark the night before, as bad as Conan-kun's had when he had gotten shot.

She darted a look at Aoko-san's face and her eyes widened a little at the set, almost scary look she found there. Aoko-san looked like she was the one who was hurting. "He'll be okay, won't he?" The words slipped out before she knew it, and she bit her own lip.

The young woman carefully eased the tattered remnants of Hei-san's jacket away from his shoulder, ignoring his stifled exclamation and placing a soaked washcloth across the stained shirt beneath; holding it in place, she nodded grimly. "He'll be fine, I think-- I'm not a doctor, but I think I just need to get all this off him and clean the wounds." A half-smile crossed her face for a second, making her look much prettier than the scary look had. "My tousan, he got shot once in the leg when I was twelve, and he was a much worse baby about having his bandages changed. I had to do it for him, because if he started bleeding you'd think he was dying--" She seemed to start slightly then, stopping in mid-sentence with a confused look on her face. Her hands continued what they were doing, however, as they carefully snipped away at the dark blue cloth glued to Hei-san's ribs.

"I-- remember that. I came over one time when you were changing them upstairs, and--" The young man paused to bite back what wad probably an interesting swearword; "--and it sounded like you were killing him. Thought he-- Ow, DAMMIT, Aoko! Leave me a little hide, will you?-- I thought he had maybe complained about--- aaaAAGH!-- about your cooking one time too many." Beads of sweat were gathering along Hei-san's forehead; Ayumi shivered in sympathy.

"I'm a GOOD cook, and you very well know it-- and stop swearing, Kaito, or I'll--"

"--you'll what?" He laughed; it seemed a little strange to the gradeschooler's ears. "Shoot me? Been there, done that, got the--"

"Bullet holes, right. I can see that." She peeled off another strip of cloth from his side, baring flushed and angrily-scored skin as Ayumi's teacher gasped in pain. "Idiot. Keep it up and I will give you something to complain about--"

The little girl hesitated, then scooted up a little and reached out to touch Aoko's shoulder; the young woman paused, a soaked and reddened cloth in her hand. "What is it, Ayumi?"

"Um…" She didn't want to be rude, but-- "Aoko-san? Could you PLEASE not yell at Hei-- I mean, at Kaito-san, just for a little while? If you keep yelling at him he can't tell us about why he's Kaitou Kid. And…" she smiled tentatively at her two guests. "… he promised me last night he'd tell me, and you said he had to tell you, and he could tell both of us while you bandage him so he doesn't have to think about being bandaged." She sat back again, looking hopeful. "And then you can yell at him later, okay?"

The young woman stared at her for a second or two; then one side of her mouth twitched slightly. "That… sounds like a good arrangement to me. Well, Kaito-kun?" Aoko-san's voice sounded sort of dangerous, as if she were a bomb that just might go off any second. Apparently Hei-san thought so too, since he swallowed hard and nodded.

"Fine, okay. Ah, 'Yumi-chan? Sorry 'bout the swearing…"

She giggled. "That's okay. Can I play with your hat while you're talking?" She wriggled a little, impatiently, as the young woman beside her applied another soaked cloth.

"Not the-- Nngh!! --hat, no; it's got a few gadgets in it that're too dangerous. But-- oh; here… can you reach around behind me, under my jacket on the right? Not the smaller compartments, though, just the big one right by the seam; it's safe." He craned his head sideways to watch as the little girl scooted around to search; small hands discovered a series of pockets in the coat's cloth, pulling out something that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight…

"OOOOOH!"

Ayumi squealed in delight at what, actually, DID seem to be diamonds-- real diamonds, all shaped into flowers and set into a crown. She had never seen anything like it in her life, and she immediately bounced to her feet and to the mirror on her dresser to try it on.

Behind her she heard Aoko-san drop her washcloth with a wet splat! onto the carpet. "Are you crazy?" hissed the young woman furiously. "You stole that, didn't you? You actually went and stole it and now you're letting a little girl try it on-- Kaito, what the HELL do you think you're doing? It's stolen property-- she'll get her fingerprints all over it and--"

"That's right," said Hei-san flatly. "It's stolen property, I stole it, and I'm a thief. That's what I do, Aoko-- I steal things. And it'll get returned later, just like everything else I've stolen… well, except for the baseball, but I had a good reason for that one. Dammit, Aoko, I'm not an amateur! D'you really think I'd return it with any prints on it? If I was THAT stupid your dad would've caught me ages ago!" He laughed, and Ayumi paused in adjusting the sparkling piece of jewelry; there was that funny note in his laughter again, almost a sort of bitterness, a terrible sadness…

How could a person sound so sad when they were laughing?

But Conan sounded that way sometimes too; Ayumi guessed it had to do with keeping secrets inside.

They were yelling at each other again, their voices growing sharper and louder. "Maybe you should've been caught; then you wouldn't have blood all over the place and a couple of holes in your--"

"Oh right, instead I'd be in a cell someplace awaiting trial; what a wonderful way to finish up high school. 'Kuroba Kaito, Student Most Likely To End Up On Interpol's Most-Wanted List-- Oh Wait, He's Already There'. Do you suppose I could graduate college with a major in Prison Escapes 101? Hey, maybe I could teach classes--" There was that unhappy laughter again, ending in a pained gasp. "--shit, this hurts--"

"--and whose fault is that? And quit swearing! If you'd just tried to think with your brain instead of--"

Okay, that was enough; they were acting like total babies now. Smoothing her hair into place, the little girl turned back around and glared at them both. "STOPPITTT!!!"

Caught in the act, the so-called adults froze in place with their mouths open, angry words cut off in mid-tirade. Ayumi stomped one foot (which made her new hair ornament slide sideways, but she didn't care about that); "You said you wouldn't yell at him--" that was for Aoko-san; "--and you said you'd tell us why you steal stuff." She crossed her arms and loomed over them with every centimeter of her small height. "Instead you're BOTH ACTING LIKE BAKAS and nobody's explaining anything!" Angry tears started up at the corner or her eyes; she wiped them away impatiently, stomping her foot again.

Guiltily the pair before her glanced at each other before dropping their eyes; Aoko-san drew a deep breath and studied the floor as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Ayumi… I'm just-- this is sort of a shock for me, and…" Her voice trailed into silence as she picked up the soggy washcloth she had dropped, dabbing at the splatters.

Hei-san picked up where she had left off, continuing the sentence with the ease of long familiarity. "…and we're both used to squabbling with each other; it's easier than-- well, practically anything, including explanations." He darted a somewhat sheepish glance at the young woman beside him. "Um, and I'm sorry too… to both of you." A small grin crept out of hiding. "I never claimed to be very bright-- just clever. Well, and good-looking, and stylish, andooOWW!"

Aoko-san had removed another wet cloth from his shoulder, pulling the last of shreds of tattered shirt-material away and finally baring the full extent of the damage. "NNGH. Warn a guy when you're going to-- aagh!!--" He clamped his mouth shut, the color draining from his skin; the fingers that sponged his shoulder so gently trembled a little as scarlet began to ooze from the wound again.

"I'm sorry too." Ayumi could barely hear the young woman's words as she stared at the wound; it looked horrible, all ragged and sort of torn-- she had always thought bullets just made holes in people, not great big rips. In the past year or so she had seen a few people with bullet-holes in them, but never without their shirts-- and the left side of Hei-san's shirt was now a pile of cut-up cloth lying on the floor.

Oooooooh… She gulped. It had to hurt an awful, awful lot. "Do… do you need the medicine kit now?" The gradeschooler tried to keep her voice from quavering; Aoko-san nodded absently, wringing out the last washcloth and rinsing it in the water (now an ugly red, full of floating bits of shirt-material and other stuff that Ayumi didn't want to think about.)

"If you could get me some fresh clothes and some more warm water, that'd be good too--" Thankfully the little girl scooped up the bowl (sloshing it again) and headed to the bathroom closet for more towels; behind her she could hear her two guests' voices saying something that might have been apologies. At least it sounded like apologies… and anyway, they weren't yelling. That was good.

That was a start.

* * *

The silence that fell between Kaito and Aoko was an awkward one; but, the young thief thought to himself, it was a damn sight better than all that shouting. Easier on the nerves, too.

He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall tiredly back against the closet doorframe; "Note to self: Never, ever get shot again," he muttered as his shoulder gave a particularly vicious throb. The washcloth that had so gently sponged away the dried blood was cool by now, and as hot pain bloomed again where the bullet had struck he swallowed another incipient swearword and did his best to ignore it.

Aoko carefully placed the last clean cloth across the wound, and it occurred to him that this was probably the most physical contact that they had had since they were kids. It's not quite the sort of contact I've had in mind lately, but I guess it'll have to do, won't it? Baka; keep your thoughts on the present and not on daydreams.

(But somewhere in the back of his mind a small, gleeful voice wondered when the last time she had seen him without a shirt had been, even partially; probably not since two summers past, when they had gone swimming at the local pool. He wondered what she was thinking of, seeing him now; all those roof-hops and the hang-gliding had added quite a bit of muscle tone.)

"Kaito?" Her voice was a lot quieter than usual; she almost sounded like a nice, normal girl and not the usual mop-wielding valkyrie that he knew and loved--

(Hm, he mused, that last word had an echo to it, didn't it? Interesting. 'Course, it's not like the thought hasn't crossed my mind before…) "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

He snorted involuntarily. "My therapist says it's all a phase and should pass soon," he muttered, but the joke was halfhearted at best. Kaito opened his eyes again and blinked up at Aoko wearily. "Fine, just… spiffy." A tired note of sarcasm warred with his attempt at cheerfulness. "Why, don't I look it?"

She sat back on her heels, still clutching the now-scarlet washcloth; droplets of red had spattered her sweatshirt here and there, darkening her cuffs and spotting the denim of her jeans. "Actually, no; you're pale as a ghost and I don't know what you're going to do about missing school... You can't go in like this tomorrow." Aoko scowled a little, the familiar expression settling on her face in a way that was almost as reassuring as a smile. "And don't tell me your mom called in for you--"

Oh, right… better take care of that right now. "What –ow! --time is it, anyway?" He shifted painfully, sitting a little more upright. At that angle he could just make out Ayumi's bedside clock. "Almost nine-thirty… later than I thought. Do you have your cellphone on you?" In answer she passed it over silently, her scowl deepening in puzzlement.

Flashing a tired-but-still-very-Kaito (or Kid) grin her way, he flipped it open. "Wanna see a magic trick?" At that, she crossed her arms, the scowl beginning to turn dangerous; Hey, you wouldn't hit a wounded man, would you? he thought hopefully (and possibly inaccurately, all things considered.) Clearing his throat as he dialed their school's office-number, he adjusted this and that and concentrated…

bzzztbzzztbzz-- "Ekoda High School, Administration."

"Ah, konnichiwa-- this is Kuroba Chikage… my son Kaito's a student with you there, but I'm afraid he won't be coming in today." Grinning as he spoke in flawless imitation of his mother's voice, the young thief watched Aoko's jaw drop and her eyebrows climb; in the bedroom's doorway, Ayumi buried her face in the pile of towels she was carrying to muffle her giggles.

"Ah, Kuroba-san! We tried to reach you earlier-- is your son ill?" The office clerk on the other end of the line sounded bored but dutiful; faintly he could catch the shuffling sounds of paper. No doubt this call was tidying up a loose end for them; well, good, no reason he couldn't make someone's day a little easier.

"Unfortunately he is-- just something passing, I'm sure, though if he gets worse I'll take him into a clinic for a checkup. Will you be needing me to drop a note by, or will this call do?" Kaito conscientiously added on a few details regarding his student ID number and class schedule, making certain to flavor everything with just the right note of tired concern. Aoko was staring openly by now, eyes nearly popping at the feminine tones and diction; she shook her head hard, fighting back what looked suspiciously like a very unwilling laugh.

"The call will do for now, but if you could either send a note with him when he comes in or possibly drop one by later--? Arigato, Kuroba-san, we'll check him off as 'excused.'"

"Thank you for your help." Kaito smirked and hit the 'end' button on the cellphone, handing it back; Aoko took it in one rather limp hand, her eyes still wide and startled. "Well?" he demanded of his audience, feeling somewhat better than he had all morning; "How'd you like the trick?"

If you could just see your face, Aoko…

Slowly the Inspector's daughter took the bundle of terrycloth from the still-giggling Ayumi's arms, settling back crosslegged again. "Is that… have you done that sort of thing to trick my father before--? I've heard him complaining about-- about Kid misleading his men on the radio--" Ayumi scurried back out towards the bathroom to get the bowl of water, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Yup." Kaito chuckled, wiping away a trickle of sweat from his hairline with his good arm. "It's a lot more efficient than running from them or having to do something more dangerous to get 'em off my trail… Aoko? Your dad-- he's okay, isn't he? You DID keep him from going in this morning--?" A slight thread of worry dampened his satisfaction at the ruse he had just pulled, but her nod reassured him; with a relieved sigh, he allowed his head to fall back again. "Good. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."

Ayumi skidded at a comically fast hop across the floor, arms full; a small wave from the bowl she was carrying slopped over the rim, spattering her teacher with a healthy splash of warm water. "Hey, 'Yumi-chan, I wasn't expecting a bath--" he protested as droplets ran down the bare skin of his neck and dripped from his hair. “Never mind, I'll bet I need one.”

The child sat the basin down with an apologetic giggle, settling beside her other guest in unconscious crosslegged mimicry. She regarded them both, her head cocked slightly to one side with the diamond crown she still wore slanting just a touch askew. "Hei-san? NOW are you going to explain? Oh, and you need your medicine kit, right, Aoko-san?" The backpack containing the kit was just within reach of her short arms, and she leaned far over to pull it by one strap. "It's-- heavy--" With a sharp tug it slid across the floor, and she unzipped it-- and froze--

"Meeee(yawn)owww? Yow?… YOWwow?"

Oh NO. Somebody Up There really, really hates me. "Aoko? WHY did you bring your kitten with you? I'd have understood it if you brought your mop, but... a kitten?" Kaito's own eyebrows were climbing into his hairline now; an ecstatic Ayumi was enthusiastically hauling the white furball out of the backpack, and he wondered if he should warn her--

"Mew?"

"Aww! He's so CUUUTE! He looks just like HelloKitty!" The little girl hugged the Kitten From Hell with all her might; it made a sort of muffled squeak, and Kaito suppressed a shudder of horror.

"...purrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

--Nahhh. No need to warn her, apparently; small children did not appear to be on the fiend's list of acceptable chew-toys, unlike himself and the majority of the known world. One evil, crystalline blue eye glared balefully at Kaito from over Ayumi's flannel-clad shoulder as a pink nose twitched distastefully in his direction. "Um, Aoko? The kitten-- why? Ah, hello? Hellooo, Aoko? Earth to Aoko, come in Nakamari-dono--" He waved his good hand in front of her eyes.

The Inspector's daughter jumped slightly, seeming to shake herself out of a daze. "I… could have sworn that I left him at home-- I had to get him out of my backpack twice, but he-- I zipped it shut, I know I did! How in the world--" Slowly she reached out a hand and smoothed it across her kitten's fluffy head; it purred even harder, eyes closing in bliss. "Oh well... Ayumi? This is Spot. Spot, meet Ayumi--"

The little girl allowed the kitten to slip down and curl up in her lap, a look of delight on her pink-cheeked face. "Hajimemashite, Spot-chan! Ooooh, look, he likes to cuddle." Thoroughly absorbed, the child in the flannel pajamas and diamond tiara bent over her new friend and stroked the soft white fur. Kaito had to grin at the total and utter incongruity of the sight, and he caught a matching grin on Aoko's face before she reached to snap open the first aid kit.

His smile faded, however, at what lay within...

Bandages, tape, hydrogen peroxide, swabs, ointments... ow. Ow, ow, ow. He gritted his teeth.

"Why don't you start explaining?" suggested Aoko, pulling out a strip of tape in a businesslike manner; a hint of her previous strain and anger showed on her face for a moment and quivered in her voice. "Or… would you rather I bandage you first?" A certain sharp-edged note behind the words suggested that this option would not prove comfortable at all.

Man, talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place… "Fine, okay." He sighed, watching as she began unwrapping pads of gauze, and the butterflies in his stomach (who had been taking a momentary smoke-break) started their aerial ballet once more. "But first... Aoko? One thing before I start; it's sort of important that you understand this."

She tensed, raising her eyes to his; the paper around the gauze ripped between her fingers. "What?"

Kaito met her gaze evenly. "I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing. You've known me most of my life, Aoko; do you really think I'd do this sort of thing without a good reason? Really?" He stared her down; the young woman flushed angrily, her lips tightening into a thin line. "I mean, think about it: did I ever, ever do anything really dishonest or criminal while we were growing up? I'm not much of a role model--" (and he shot a slightly guilty sideways glance at Ayumi, who looked puzzled) "--but I'm not that bad. And if you suddenly took up burglary or carjacking or-- I don't know, mugging people in alleys or something-- I'd be pretty damned sure you had a good reason behind it."

Aoko's lower lip stuck out, making her look remarkably like Ayumi in a snit. "So what's your point?" she growled, tearing off a few more strips of tape and lining them up along the edge of the first aid kit.

The young thief shrugged his good shoulder, then bit off a curse as the movement pulled at muscles that emphatically did not want to move. "Just... listen to me before you make any judgments, okay?" He offered her a rather lopsided smile. "Aoko, I won't deny that being Kid's been a blast a lot of the time, and there's parts of it I've really enjoyed-- but, you know, I had to learn how to break the law and do things that you're always told are bad. Lying to people, stealing... getting away with things." Kaito laughed briefly; then the humor in his face slid away into a kind of wistfulness. "Sometimes it would've been so easy to fail, to just let your dad or Hakuba or that Kudo guy catch me-- to just give up. And sometimes I was so tired that that sounded pretty damned tempting, even though I'd end up in jail and my mom'd be in trouble since I'm still at home and all. But--" He hesitated.

"But what, Hei-san?" They both jumped-each had forgotten about Ayumi; the little girl still sat crosslegged beside them, stroking the kitten that snoozed in fuzzy slumber across her lap. Her clear eyes were fixed on his face, full of questions and curiosity... and empty of judgment. To her, he was Hei-san first before he was anything else-- and she trusted Hei-san.

"Um… but, well..." Kaito looked a little uncertain. "I guess I'd better start at the beginning."

The child rolled her eyes and heaved a theatrical sigh. "That's what we've been TELLING you to do." She and Aoko shared an exasperated look between them, then fixed their eyes unblinkingly on the wounded thief; he gulped.

"And I'll need you to lean forward a little-- the bandages will have to go around and back of your shoulder a bit." The young woman slid over to sit directly beside Kaito, bringing the kit with her. "You can talk while I work."

"Um. Right." He looked away as she began to unscrew the lid of the hydrogen peroxide. "Let's see... uh, maybe we could start with a little history lesson?-- OW! Jeeze, that's cold!!"

The Inspector's daughter had just poured a little of the liquid onto the wound; she carefully swabbed the long blaze across his ribs with a soaked cottonball. "Hold still and talk."

"..." Kaito sighed.

"Okay, it's like this-- and 'Yumi-chan? If you don't understand something, just ask, okay?-- The thing is, there've been phantom thieves, 'kaitou', around for a long time. Back when the British came in and took over in the 1800's they really started showing up in written history, but they've been around one way or another for centuries." He leaned forward a little more, gritting his teeth as careful hands dabbed at the damage just above his shoulderblade.

"If-- aaaaowch!-- if you wanted to embarrass some high-and-mighty rich type, especially somebody in charge, you might think of hiring a thief that was good enough to not only sneak onto their property and steal something valuable BUT was also good enough to do it really, really publicly-- y'know, so the high-and-mighty guy'd lose face. And to make matters even worse, you could get the thief to return what they stole in some way that smacked the owner right in the nose, as in 'Your security sucks almost as much as you do.' That was the sort of thing a kaitou did. And if they could be seen doing either the theft or the return, that was even better."

He was silent for a moment, thinking hard. Stealing a glance at Aoko's face, he wondered a little at her closed, absorbed expression and the way her fingers moved so gently against his bare skin. Despite all his protests her touch was so light, almost delicate... and, Kaito thought to himself with a nervous internal grin, if things weren't hurting so much it'd really feel sort of… ummm... well, never mind that or he'd loose his train of thought entirely.

Lately she had been doing things like that to him a lot.

Uh… where was I? Oh yeah. History-- nice safe topic. Pay attention, class…

"A phantom thief didn't just steal valuables; they stole prestige, security, public opinion... A lot of merchants hired kaitou to discredit their rivals. I mean, if you had a cargo you wanted shipped to another port, you'd steer away from somebody who had just had their family jewels-- ah, I mean, a family heirloom stolen from their own treasury." Kaito swallowed hard as ointment was slowly squeezed from a tube onto the worst part of the wound and tried to ignore the sensation.

"I… uh... Anyway, kaitou never really died out-- there are still a few around; most of the modern ones deal in computer hacking and commercial espionage. There's nothing like seeing a product that you were just hyping to your stockholders show up on the market under somebody else's logo, two weeks before production… and if you stole that product's design from someone else first, then you're just the sort of target that the modern kaitou love best. Hackers, data pirates, that sort of thing; the more visible ones in Japan stem from the kaitou." Ayumi was looking more than a little puzzled by now, but she said nothing.

Aoko soaked another cottonball and moved lower, blotting at the painful gash across his ribs. "Lean forward a little-good. And quit stalling." There was a growl of impatience in her voice. "How does all of this relate to you?" The Inspector's daughter snipped a piece of gauze in half with the scissors; the little girl beside her scooped up the tag-end and began to dangle it in front of Spot, who lazily swiped at it with a paw for a second or two before losing interest.

Kaito swallowed again; this was the Big Part.

"Well... there've always been a few traditional kaitou around, the sort you could hire to steal things besides computer files..."

She quirked an eyebrow in his direction; the eye beneath it glittered, sharp as any stiletto and twice as dangerous. "Things like jewels?"

"Right."

"...and...?" Her hands smoothed a piece of tape in place.

"My dad was one."

Her hands went very still; Aoko's face visibly paled. "Your-- your dad was a…? But he--!!"

Ayumi made an inquiring noise, pushing the tiara up from where it had been doing a slow slide towards her nose. "You said your dad died when you were a little older than me, didn't you? I remember..." The young voice was subdued. Carefully she removed her headgear; tiny rainbows refracted across Spot's fur and her own troubled face and covering them both with diminutive rainbows as the diamonds threw back the light from the balcony. "It made you sad to talk about it. But you said he was a magician, not a thief… didn't you?" Her small hands stroked the light-dappled kitten, who yawned and went back to his nap.

Kaito nodded, then wished he hadn't as the tape on his skin pulled. He was quite strongly aware that Aoko still had her hands resting on him, one each to either side of where he had been bandaged; they were very warm. The young woman seemed to be almost frozen in place, and he turned to look back at her. "Aoko?"

She whispered: "…I… liked your dad a lot. He was there when mine-- when mine was out chasing criminals. He used to do tricks for me, and make me laugh..." Fierce eyes glared into his as her fingers tightened a little, and he let out a grunt of protest. "How could he have been a thief? He was a good man!" she demanded, her voice cracking.

From scarcely a foot and a half away Kaito's dark blue eyes stared directly back at hers, full of memories and old sorrow. "That's right, he was. A very good man… Remember that, okay, Aoko? Remember that while you listen to the rest of it."

"B-but he-- Kaito, how COULD he have been-- he, he was always so--"

"Just LISTEN."

She shut up. In the lap of the little girl beside her, Spot cracked open one watchful eye.

"I don't know much about the family history, just the little scraps I've found in my oyaji's notes since I started all this; I don't think he wanted to talk about it for some reason. But as far as I can tell he was trained by his father, and planned on starting my training when I was ten." Kaito shrugged a painful, one-shouldered shrug as he scratched at his head with his good hand. "I mean, he'd already taught me a lot of stuff-- d'you remember how I got your back door open all those times you locked yourself out? I could pick a fairly simple lock by the time I was six. And there was all that stuff on disguises, on how to watch people and what to look for when you wanted to imitate somebody, their voices and appearance... A lot of it's natural ability, but some of what I use was taught to me by my oyaji, plain and simple." A wry smile flickered in his eyes and he shook his head. "I even found out a bit about my mom's family-- seems they had a couple of interesting characters in the woodwork way back as well, or maybe not all that way back… kind of weird, isn't it?"

"But... stealing is wrong, isn't it? Hei-san? I learned that when I was really little." Ayumi's words were tinged with confusion and more than a little dismay; she pulled Spot up into a hug, her small arms tightening around the kitten and producing a rather surprised "Mrrrrmph!" sound.

Kaito cocked an eyebrow at her in amusement. "So's hiding in trees and eavesdropping on people, especially your friends... but that didn't keep somebody from doing it, now did it?" To Aoko's astonishment the little girl blushed deeply and squirmed a little; the feline in her lap let out a protesting "YOWwow!" and scrambled free, bounding halfway across the bedroom floor to disappear beneath Ayumi's bed.

The child stuck her lower lip out. "That's not nearly as bad as stealing stuff… Stealing stuff can get you put in jail. And besides," (she glared up at her teacher) "detectives catch thiefs, um, I mean 'thieves', and I do detective stuff. And what about Conan-kun? He could catch you..."

Aoko blinked at Ayumi in puzzlement as she picked up the tape and scissors again. "'Detective stuff'? And who's Conan-kun?"

Kaito chuckled, flinching slightly as ointment was applied to the long gash across his ribs. "Ayumi-Tantei here belongs to a sort of detective-club; pretty bright little bunch of kids, too, if you ask me. Conan-kun… he's one of them, the smartest; your dad's met him before, maybe--? He lives with Mouri Kogoro, that private detective that makes the news now and then. You know, the one who supposedly solves crimes in a trance?" He met Ayumi's eyes with a quick warning look and she nodded, silently agreeing that the less said about Conan the better.

A long strip of gauze was laid carefully in place. "Right... and yes, Ayumi, stealing IS wrong, no matter why you do it." The young woman glared at her patient. "Just because your grandfather did it and your father did it doesn't make it right-- OR intelligent."

A flicker of anger showed briefly in Kaito's eyes. "Fine. Yes, it's wrong; if you steal stuff for yourself, you hurt people… And maybe that's why my dad specialized in jobs where he was hired by people who had already been stolen from; they paid him to get their stuff back. He liked going after businessmen who'd screwed their employees or the public over, too-- that was pretty profitable, and he wrote down a lot of details about both kinds of jobs in his journals." He sighed, a line appearing between his brows. "...And okay, so maybe he didn't do that every time-- he had to make a living somehow, and no matter how famous he was, most stage gigs just don't pay that wonderfully." Kaito gave Aoko a faint, crooked grin; "Even Phantom Thieves have house payments."

She snorted (sounding remarkably like her father just for a second) as she applied the last strip of tape. "So... what went wrong?"

The grin faded and the young thief's eyes went rather bleak. "One of the main differences between a traditional kaitou and an ordinary thief is that a kaitou's usually hired by someone else to steal, though not always-- and he did well enough to be more than a bit picky about his clients and targets. As far as I can tell from what I've learned, he was approached by some sort of-- organization? --that offered him a contract regarding finding a particular jewel. Not just any jewel, though… a very special one: the Pandora Gem."

Ayumi's eyes widened, astonished. "The one you--" but Kaito held up a finger to his lips; bouncing a little in her excitement, the child subsided and allowed him to continue.

"Problem was, they were lacking in a little information regarding the whereabouts of their target; not only did they not know where it was, they didn't know what it looked like either. It was supposed to be a gem inside another gem, and the only way you knew you had the right one was to hold it up under the rays of the full moon-- and it would glow." There was a faraway look in the young man's face for a moment; he shot Aoko another grin as she busied herself with cleaning up the debris around them. "There was something about a comet too, but that wasn't very clear. Sounds like a bunch of pipe dreams, doesn't it? Wait'll you hear what else the Pandora Gem was supposed to do."

(From beneath the bed a pair of blue eyes peered out; narrowing, they began to track the movements of Aoko's hands as she picked up scraps of cloth and wiped up droplets...)

Kaito paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing; he carefully flexed just the slightest bit, wiggling the fingers of his left hand. "Stiff-- but they're working," he muttered. His eyes softened as he watched Aoko's hands scooping up the tattered remnants of his shirt; the majority of his jacket and the right side of his shirt were still intact and hanging on him, but he'd need some new clothes before he went anywhere.

(The blue eyes focused tightly on the girl's movements as soft white paws carried the feline beneath the bed closer and closer, readying for the attack...)

Aoko tidied up a last tattered scrap of bloodstained shirt, then absentmindedly wiped at the floor beneath it with her cloth. "Get on with it, would you? So what was this mythical gem supposed to be able to do that made them want it so badly?"

(Almost there... White hindquarters waggled in preparation for a pounce--)

"Oh, nothing much..." The young thief made a fist and rotated his forearm, grimacing. "Just make you immortal, that's all."

Aoko nearly dropped the cloth she was wiping with; her dark brows drew down, and she opened her mouth-- and a furry mass of feline predatory instinct leaped out from beneath the bed to clasp pink-padded paws around her wrist. She yelped involuntarily, then caught up her pet and hugged it close; Spot purred complacently, throwing a narrow-eyed 'Get Lost' look at the only other male in the room, who rolled his eyes and continued with his tale as Ayumi giggled.

"I know, I know; sounds like a bunch of bullsh-- uhm, a bunch of craziness to me, too… but these guys believed it, or whoever was in charge did at any rate. So they hired my dad to keep stealing particular gems and testing them until he stole the right one." Kaito sighed, the bleakness returning to his eyes.

"It probably sounded like a dream come true at first-- they gave him some basic info on what to look for, but beyond that they apparently didn't care what he did with any gems that weren't the right one; they paid him a fee for each theft, even if what he stole turned out to be normal."

"So he went through a largish handful of targets, stealing them, checking 'em out and returning them in some pretty interesting ways;" the bleak look faded a little into professional appreciation as he chuckled softly. "I wish you could read his notes on the one he sent back in the middle of a fast-food delivery of Beef Chow Mein. The poor owner almost choked on it. And then there was the note in the fortune cookie..."

(Curled in Aoko's lap, Spot made what sounded distinctly like an appreciative snort; the young thief blinked at him, then dismissed the noise as coincidental. Cats, after all, did not snort.)

Turning serious again, Kaito tugged at the remains of his jacket and shirt, carefully easing them off. "Guess these aren't much use anymore, are they? ...Anyway, after a while Oyaji started wondering about his 'employers' and decided to do a bit of detective work on them; it turned out that they were a bunch of murdering scumbags that'd do damn near anything to get what they wanted, and they weren't big on leaving witnesses alive afterwards. Think of one of the Yakuza gangs, only with a little more organization and secrecy; that's who had hired him. So…"

The fingers of his right hand tightened on the bundle of cloth in his lap for a second before he began rummaging through pockets both normal and hidden in the garment. "…so he told 'em the deal was off, that he wasn't interested in working for murderers. Being a thief is one thing, but a killer, that's something else entirely; he had standards, and so do I." Kaito placed a handful of random objects from various compartments on the floor; the Inspector's daughter frowned down at them (fighting back a strong desire to reach out and touch)-- small metal spheres, matt-black ovoids, bits of wire, a tiny toolkit, lockpicks, a very peculiar-looking sort of gun, springs, sensors, mini-binoculars, unrecognizable bits of machinery, a box of Pocky...

Tearing her eyes away from the magpie-hoard, Aoko made a snort of her own, but the sound had a preoccupied note to it. "What happened next?" asked Ayumi from her place beside her, reaching out to stroke Spot; the kitten yawned in disinterest and licked a paw. "This is like a fairy tale, like the ones we hear at school about ninjas or that Western hero-- 'Robbing Hood'? --something like that… except--"

"--except that it's real… and this 'Robin Hood' was my father. And he didn't rob from the rich and give to the poor, and he didn't escape from the Sheriff of Nottingham's men; instead, they killed him." Kaito's voice was a little harsh; silence, sad and somewhat bitter, hung around the words after he had spoken them. Carefully he scooped his small hoard of dangerous toys into the closet, pushing them back as far as he could manage and then sitting against the wall again with a sigh.

"I'm-- I'm sorry, Hei-san! I didn't mean to hurt you--" The little girl's eyes had filled with tears; she bit her lip, ashamed.

Kuroba Kaito just shook his head, attempting a smile. "S'okay, Ayumi-chan; I didn't mean to be so abrupt just then, either. It's just that… this was my dad. I loved him a lot… and he died." He sighed again. "Anyway, he told 'em to take a long walk off a short dock; trouble was, they didn't take much to the idea of somebody knowing what they were looking for but not working for them-- like I said, they weren't much in favor of witnesses or loose ends. And then, to make matters even worse, my dad decided that maybe it'd be a good thing for him to find the Pandora Gem before his former employers did; I mean, who wants an immortal Bad Guy running around? Especially one that you knew YOU could've stopped, if you got to the target first? So he--"

"Wait, wait, I'm confused here…" Aoko was still frowning; she held up a hand, then took Kaito's armload of useless cloth away as Spot jumped neatly from her lap to the floor and wandered off in the direction of the hallway. "I thought you said-- Kaito, your dad didn't believe that the gem would make a person immortal, did he? I mean, not really?"

A one-shouldered, painful shrug was her answer as the young man slowly tried to raise his left arm up a little. "Hard to-- ow! --say, really; his notes are kinda erratic. From what I could-- rrrgh! --tell, he was working on the principle that it never hurts to make certain that your enemy's at a disadvantage… and by then, they were enemies." He grunted slightly, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his face as he struggled to fold and extend his arm; beneath the strain of his mild exertions a redness began to bloom beneath the tape on his shoulder, and Aoko forgot herself enough to curse.

"Um, Aoko--? What was that about 'stop swearing'?" Kaito heard Ayumi muffle a distinct giggle.

"Oh, BE quiet and keep still for a bit 'til the bleeding stops." Muttering rude words to herself, the young woman got to her feet. "Ayumi-kun? Where can I throw this away?" The child hopped up, tugging at her to follow.

Kaito made a restless movement that ended in another involuntary "Ow!" He slowly drew his legs up beneath him, wondering if it would be a good idea to try and stand. "Errr, Aoko? Unless you're planning on turning me in to your dad right away, throwing a bunch of blood-stained clothing out where it can be seen would be a very bad thing..."

Unidentifiable shuffling noises, the occasional Mrrow? and the sound of cabinets closing were his only answer, but as the young woman reentered the room she gave him a somewhat irritated look. "I buried them under a bunch of old newspapers and the kitchen-scraps from the last day or so; if that's not good enough you'll have to do it yourself." Absentmindedly wiping her hands on her jeans, Aoko leaned against the doorjamb with Ayumi beside her. "Now," she prompted; "what happened next?"

The young thief sighed, a shadow of old sadness and new pain crossing his face as he slowly began the attempt to climb to his feet; without shame, he allowed his friend to assist him as stiffened muscles protested. "You know what happened next, Aoko-- you were there, remember? All those years ago, when I came home from school that day and found out I didn't have a father anymore..."

*

Standing quietly beside the doorway, Ayumi tried not to squirm in impatience; why was it taking Hei-san (somehow she just couldn't get herself to think of him as 'Kaito-san'; maybe she should try thinking of him as 'Kid'? Kid-san? or Kid-kun, maybe? No, that sounded… sort of weird) so long to explain? At this rate it'd be lunch-time, and Rita-kun would be coming home before he told them about why in the world he was Kaitou Kid--

It was taking forever. And she found herself considering the reasons why that might be so; when she didn't want to tell something to somebody (like her mom or her dad) she tended to put stuff off by talking about other things first. Maybe that was it; maybe he didn't want to talk about it, so he was talking and talking and TALKING about history and phantom thieves and his dad as much as possible.

Why?

Because he's… worried? scared? Maybe he thinks we won't like him anymore if he explains that part? He's hurting now, talking about his dad dying, but he'd rather hurt and talk about that than explain the rest. I guess he really *does* think we won't like him when he tells us the truth; is it gonna be THAT bad?

He had paused for a minute or so as the young woman helped him to his feet; Hei-san was awfully pale, and his forehead was dotted with beads of sweat. "I-- think -- maybe I'll-- wait a little while before I-- ngghh!! -- try to do anything drastic -- like walking..." The words were forced out between clenched teeth, and Ayumi could see how much the simple act of rising had cost him; it hurt her to watch. Aoko-san's face was nearly as pale, and despite the muttered string of angry comments she was making, her hands were very careful as she eased Hei-san gently onto the small chair in front of the desk. From the doorway Spot watched critically, pink nose twitching.

"Hei-san? Do you want me to get you some more aspirin?" It was all she could think of doing to help-- and she just had to do something. Hei-san looked up at the offer and nodded gratefully, wiping at his face; he was really beginning to look tired now. Explaining was hard work, apparently. "Okay! Don't tell any more stuff 'til I come back, please..." Ayumi spun around and dashed down the hall towards the bathroom, where she filled up her toothbrush-glass and appropriated the aspirin from the cabinet.

When she returned to the room, Hei-san had shifted a little; he was leaning back against the wall with his bad arm resting in his lap. "Don't you need a sling for that?" she asked, pulling memories of Mitsuhiko's favorite Western films filled with cowboys, shootouts and bar-room bandaging from her mind. "John Wayne-san always wears a sling in the movies when he gets shot in the shoulder..."

Hei-san gave a little snort of laughter, gulping down the pills and following them with the water. "Yeah, but later; right now I need to move it around a little so it doesn't stiffen up any further." He gave her a rather crooked grin. "'Sides, if I was John Wayne I wouldn't have ended up on your balcony with a couple of holes through me; instead, I'd've-- oh, I dunno, shot all the villain's guns out of their hands or somethin', I guess… That sound 'bout right, little lady?" As he spoke his accent went through a series of very peculiar changes, sliding deeper and slower until the words came out in a strong American cowboy-drawl that made Ayumi's eyes pop wide open. At the same time Hei-san ran his hand across his bangs, shoving the messy strands over to one side straight across his forehead; her teacher's face seemed to rearrange itself magically until it was sleepy-eyed and somehow older looking: straight-lipped, lined and sardonic and he was speaking from one corner of his mouth and he--

"…you look..." She hopped up and down in excitement. "You look LIKE JOHN WAYNE! Well-- allllmost, 'cept that you're younger and you're not wearing a cowboy hat and you need a handkerchief around your neck and another shirt and--"

He grinned, a familiar sparkle of mischief back in his rather tired eyes as the likeness and accent dropped away like a mask. "I need a whole new outfit, don't I?" Glancing ruefully down at the cut-away remains of his blue shirt and the dirty white pants he shrugged. "Guess if I went outside like this I'd make a whole new fashion statement." He chuckled, striking a distinct Runway Model pose (or as much of one as he could manage with the bandages and all.)

"What, like 'I am blind and my seeing-eye-dog is dead'?" suggested Aoko-san rather sarcastically as she sank down onto Ayumi's bed.

Ayumi blinked, not understanding; apparently Hei-san did, though, since his pose swiftly wilted into dejection. "Maybe you could get him some stuff?" the little girl suggested, frowning. "Or maybe my tousan's things would fit--"

"NO." Both Hei-san and Aoko spoke at the same time, hastily and with some force; they paused to stare at each other for a second before the young woman continued, a frown-line appearing between her brows. "I mean-- I can run home or--"

"--you could head over to my house and pick me up a change of clothes. Please? You've had a key to my back-door for ages, and my mom's not home…" Hei-san looked wistfully at his friend. "I don't usually wear this outfit for more than a few hours at a time, and I really feel conspicuous right now. D'you think that maybe you could--?"

He was stalling again; Ayumi could tell. But he was right, too… he did need something else to wear. "And… Rita-kun'll be here pretty soon-she comes home at eleven for lunch and it's almost ten-thirty now…" said the child doubtfully. She plopped down on the bed and scooped up her pillow, hugging it for reassurance. "I don't know what she'll do-I'm not really s'posed to have any visitors over while she's gone." She hugged the pillow a little tighter, scowling into the fabric; beside her the bed dented slightly as Aoko's kitten leaped up, circled once or twice, then curled up neatly into a cat-shaped curl of fur.

The two adults in the room looked a little panicky. "How long will she be here?" asked Hei-san slowly, his thin fingers picking nervously at the tape on his side. "You think maybe-- Aoko? Could you go get those clothes and come back later? Yeah, yeah, I know--" and he held up his hand to forestall her outburst; "--I promised to explain, and I'm not finished. But... one part of it you need to hear about after dark, you really do; you'll see what I mean. Besides…" and he gave her a rather painful grin, "I could really do with a nap about now. Tired… didn't get more than a couple of hours of sleep last night." He fought back a yawn, adding, "And don't you want to see how things went with your dad? How DID you keep him from going to work, anyway?"

Aoko crossed her arms, looking a trifle smug. "I managed. It's hard to drive to work when you can't find any of your shoes, the spark-plugs to your car, or any of the phones... He finally ended up bullying one of our neighbors into lending him some shoes and driving him in, but by that time the rest of his department had evacuated the building and had a bomb-crew checking his office." She shrugged, but Ayumi could see a lot of worry in the movement; she did want to know how her father was doing, even if she didn't want to admit it. Not for the first time the child considered that grownups were really very, very strange.

If she's worried, why doesn't she just say so? I would.

Hei-san was laughing now; he broke off, coughing a little and hugging his ribs. "You stole his shoes?!? Oh man--!! Aoko, if you ever wanna go into the Phantom Thief racket, just say the word--!"

The girl cut him off, snapping "As IF… !" with a growl of temper; but there was a slight little smile on her face as she stood up. "Ayumi? Do you think you'll be able to keep Rita-kun from seeing Kaito? I mean, could you… maybe tell her you're, um..." She looked helplessly at her friend. "Kaito? Help me here-- I don't want her to have to lie--"

Hei-san shook his head, still snickering. "Hey, no problem. Just tell her you're practicing a magic trick to show her later and you don't want her to see 'til you've got it right." He chuckled again. "I can even teach you a new one if you want, and you can work on it while I rest."

His apprentice fixed him with an expectant look, sliding down off the bed (and, incidentally, waking up Spot; the kitten shot her a disgruntled look and tucked his head back beneath his tail with a mrmphh.) Ayumi loved learning new tricks. "Can you teach me how to make doves appear, like POOF! out of nowhere?" she inquired hopefully.

"Uh-- maybe not quite yet. But I can teach you how to do a new card trick… it's called 'Aces Up'. Will that do?" He squinted at her and yawned again, looking more than a little exhausted past the cheerfulness. "Y'know, 'Yumi-chan, I thought for sure you'd want peacocks, not doves…? How come?"

The little girl winced, remembering her dream from the night before. "Doves are nicer," she said firmly.

* * *

He looks… tired. How much of that is real and how much is just another way to put off the rest of the explanation? Aoko scowled down at her hands, absently scratching at a spot of dried blood that she had missed on her wrist. Kaito's blood. He did lose quite a bit-- I guess maybe we can put it off for a little while longer... After all, he's not going anywhere.

And that's a problem too. He can't stay in Ayumi's closet forever; somehow I've got to get him away from here before this Rita-kun or somebody else finds him. And-- then what? ...Since when did I suddenly decide that I was going to help him hide? I'm a police inspector's daughter, and he IS Kaitou Kid...

...but he's also Kaito. I hate Kid , but--

--but-- I-- don't hate Kaito. I--

--I-- Dammit. This is giving me a headache; I don't know what to d--

"Aoko?"

--huh?

"Um, Aoko-kun? This is headquarters, calling all Aokos... Tune in, Tokyo? What's wrong?" She hadn't realized she was standing there staring, but apparently she had been; a bloodsmeared finger tapped her briefly on the forehead and she swatted at it reflexively, startled.

"N-nothing." Aoko blinked, then frowned down at the quizzical eyes staring up into hers. "I guess I need to get going-- and Kaito? Don't even think about leaving, okay? You'd better be here when I get back, or--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know… you'll put your mop 'where the sun doesn't shine.'" He snickered as she had the grace to blush. "'S okay; I'm not going anywhere, even if I could. Right now I doubt I could make it a block without help, and I kind of expect I'd attract the wrong kind of attention." Her friend glanced ruefully down at his bare chest, the fingers of his good hand picking idly at the edges of the tape.

He really was quite a mess; Kaito's eternally-unruly mop of hair stuck up even further than usual, waving at the world; there were streaks of grime down the side of his face and a slightly scraped bruise darkening one cheekbone. The pale skin of his bare chest showed the occasional abrasion here and there, and Aoko could see lighter lines and marks that might be scar-tissue at one place or another. How many times had he been hurt in the past? How many times more would he get hurt, if he kept on-doing what he was doing--?

She wondered if he cared; probably not. What was a bruise or two when your entire world had just gone into cardiac arrest?

And it had. Maybe that was why she wasn't pressing him so hard to get done with the explanation and all, despite the fact that she was just about to explode from impatience; there had been moments while he was telling about his father when the agony of memory had shone through so clearly...

And no matter who else he was, he was still Kaito; and she didn't like seeing him hurting.

"Er… Aoko? You're staring again..."

Those dark blue eyes were peering worriedly into hers now; she shook herself out of her reverie with a shrug. "Never mind. Ayumi? Those wash-cloths and towels I used-- maybe I'd better take them with me and wash them… can you gather up anything with bloodstains?" The little girl nodded, slipping out the door towards the bathroom.

As if this had been a signal the young man in the chair slumped forward a little onto the desk, eyes closing. He propped his chin on his good arm, a tangled lock of hair falling half over one eye. "'Yumi-chan... I never meant to get her so involved, y'know? If there had been any other way…" His voice was very soft, fading a little now with fatigue. "That wasn't something I planned on at all-- 'course, I didn't plan on getting shot either."

She studied him silently, seeing the lines that weariness had begun to etch onto his face. "Lots of things don't go like we plan them to," she answered as softly. "If somebody had asked me yesterday what I would do if I found out who Kid was, I would've said-- well, you know what I would've said." Her gaze traced the line of Kaito's bent shoulders, lingering on the way the muscles seemed to flow in smooth curves down the length of his bared back.

For a single curiously intense second she flashed back in thought to the sensation of how his skin had felt beneath her fingers when she had bandaged him. It had been warm, almost too warm, and unconsciously she found herself rubbing her fingertips together as he opened his eyes to turn his head her way. "And what'll you say now, Aoko?" For once there was no humor in his voice… just tiredness.

"I-- don't know. Nothing yet, I guess... not until I hear what you have to tell me this evening. But Kaito?"

"Hmm?" He blinked up at her.

"It'd better be good."

At that he closed his eyes again, making a small sound in his throat that might have been a laugh. "'Good,' huh? Kinda depends on what you think of as 'good.' But I'm not sorry I did it." He sighed. "I'm sorry things turned out like they did, though… I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Oh really?" Anger lent an edge to her words; she could hear it. "And just how DID you want me to find out?"

He sighed again, and this time the noise held as much amusement in it as anything else. "Wanted to tell you-- I mean, deliberately, not by accident or anything like that. Isn't that stupid? You have no idea how many times I thought about it."

"But..." She paused, leaning against the doorway as uncertainty chased itself through her mind. "Kaito, what if I had told my dad or something?" The words what if I had gotten you arrested? hung in the air, heard but unspoken. "What would you have done then?"

He shrugged, one-shouldered; his eyes were still closed. "Gone to jail, I guess. Justice would have triumphed, your dad would've gotten a medal or something, Kaitou Kid would have been locked up-- for a little while, anyway-- and the bad guys who killed my dad would have won." Aoko opened her mouth to retort, and then realized that there was nothing she could really say to that. Behind her she could hear Ayumi rummaging around in the bathroom clothes hamper.

"Aoko?" Kaito's voice held a sleepy note. "Have you got that pin I gave you on you? Y'know, the little mop-pin?"

"Ummm…." Slightly red-faced, she rummaged around in one pocket (for some reason she didn't like leaving it at home) and brought the pin out. "Right here. Why?"

He barely opened one eye, a faint gleam of mischief showing through the lashes. "Hit me with it, would you? Somehow it just doesn't seem right, your being pissed off at me and not smacking me with a mop--"

"You had better be glad you're wounded," she growled, crossing her arms. "Otherwise you WOULD be getting smacked, and with something a lot bigger than a pin."

At that he raised his head. "'Yumi-chan? Aoko's threatening meeee..." he called out plaintively; the little girl came into the bedroom from behind Aoko, carrying a plastic bag full of clothing.

She stopped short at his woeful expression, a thunderous frown crossing her face. As Aoko took the bag from her, she shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. "You're teasing her, aren't you?" scolded Ayumi; "If you tease her, you probably WILL get hit with a mop. But-- um, Aoko-san? Can you wait 'til he feels better to hit him? You can yell at him later on, after he's finished explaining… but if you hit him now you'll just have to put more bandages on him, and I think we're almost out of tape, and I know we're out of towels 'cause I got the last one out of the closet earlier--"

Aoko couldn't help herself; a giggle escaped, and she shook her head as well. "I can wait," she assured the child, who looked satisfied. "I'll just hit him twice as hard when I do." Kaito sighed deeply a final time, assumed an air of martyrdom and closed his eyes again.

* * *

A key rattled in the Yoshida apartment door; from her room, Ayumi heard it open and shut. "Ayumi-kun?"

"In here, Rita-kuuuuun!" The bedroom door opened and the little girl stuck her head out; behind her the faintest rustle of movement faded into stillness. "Don't come in--"

Books were placed on the kitchen counter, and the young American woman's voice filtered down the hallway. "Oh? Why not?" The refrigerator door opened as lunch items were considered and rejected. "And what do you want for lunch?" The question was followed immediately by a sneeze.

"'Cause I'm practicing a magic trick to show you later and I don't want you to see me 'til I got it right. So don't come in, okay? Promise? A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, please..." Ayumi had just discovered peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, which she considered to be high culinary art.

Kitchen cabinets opened and closed; there was the rattle of glassware and the sound of liquid being poured into first one glass, then into a second. "No problem…" came the slightly preoccupied voice. "Can you show me the trick after we eat?" Another sneeze, accompanied by a sniffle.

Ayumi glanced over her shoulder, then drooped slightly. "Um. No... I need more practice first." She slipped out of the door, carefully closing it behind her and pattering down the hall. "It's kind of hard to do--"

The American student smiled at her from behind the counter. "Then you practice hard, okay? You can show me when we eat dinner." She spread a little more jelly on the sandwich she was making, adding another dollop for good measure. "Where'd you learn all this new stuff, anyway? Your mom told me you were learning to juggle too...?"

The child shook her head mysteriously. "It's a secret. Can't tell you--" She wandered over to the pantry, opening it and pulling out a box of senbei crackers. "You sound like you've got a cold, Rita-kun. Are you feeling alright?"

Rita sniffled again and rubbed at her eyes. "I guess so… Sleepy, though; I took some cold tablets last night and this morning, and I keep wanting to doze off." She smiled down at her charge, accepting a proffered cracker. "Thanks for asking, 'Yumi; I'll be okay in a day or so. You might have to shake me if you need to wake me up, though." Munching, the young woman turned back to the counter. Behind her, Yoshida Ayumi got a thoughtful look on her face and peered once more into the pantry.

"Rita-kun? What do kittens eat?"

The young woman threw her a slightly baffled look over her shoulder as she spread peanut-butter heavily across a slice of bread. "Uh, cat-food, I guess... why? Is that part of the trick?"

"No, silly. And I mean besides cat-food..."

Rita-kun shrugged a rather mystified shrug. Little kids-- who could tell what they were thinking? She knew the Yoshidas didn't have a cat. Small children often had imaginary friends or pets, though; maybe Ayumi had picked up the idea somewhere? "Well, I guess they'd eat all sorts of things. Maybe they'd even like sandwiches."

The child pulled out another handful of cookies. "Peanut butter ones?"

"Um, probably not. Cheese, maybe, or tunafish-- no, not sushi! Tunafish salad, Ayumi-kun..." Sniffle, sniffle; she sneezed again.

The little girl considered the idea. "Oh. Yuck; I don't like tunafish salad."

Rita-kun shrugged again, chuckling. "Well then, don't feed it to your kitten." That had to be it: the little girl had developed an imaginary pet. Oh well, she thought to herself in amusement; At least it'll be cheap to feed! And no litterbox, either.

"But I don't HAVE a kitten, Rita-kun!" The child stared at her, baffling the young woman even further.

"...Oh. So-- why did you ask me what they'd eat?"

Shrug, shrug.

Rita paused, wondered… and then turned back to making lunch. Little kids-- who could tell what they were thinking?

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the closet...

Rrrgh; o-- kay. That's ENOUGH movement for a while... Ow. Ow freaking OW. Stupid bulletwounds. Or, as Nakamori'd say, goddamn bulletwounds... why do they have to hurt so much? It had taken just about every ounce of strength and determination Kaito owned to climb from the desk-chair, stagger the few steps across Ayumi's room and make his way back to a sitting position inside the little girl's closet. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to keep the American girl out, but accidents happened; it would make him feel a lot more secure if he could make sure they didn't happen to him.

So: back into the closet he went. He supposed there was a joke somewhere there.

As he settled painfully down amidst the shoes and dustbunnies, something moved at the very corner of his vision. Startled, Kaito's head jerked up as two baleful blue eyes gleamed at him from the shadows near his feet; a querulous "MerRowww??" and a faint hiss of displeasure announced that his hiding place had been sub-let.

Great. Keep quiet, cat, or you're toast. Furry white toast, but toast all the same. Their gazes met, blue staring narrow-eyed into blue; Kaito gritted his teeth and refused to back down as his small fluffy rival yawned in apparent derision, stretching a little. You just keep to your end of the closet and I'll keep to mine, okay? Aoko'll be back in a few hours--

--oh damn. And she left you with me and she didn't provide anything like a litterbox. Great, just great; sure hope you can hold it, cat. Spot yawned again and seemed to grin nastily.

It wasn't that Kaito disliked cats; quite the contrary, even though the presence of his doves made his house a great favorite with the local feline population. But this little monster-- well, he could recognize rivalry when he saw it, and apparently Spot had it in for him but good--

Still staring the blue eyes down, the young thief considered a joke somebody had told him about cats once. "You know what the difference is between cats and dogs?" they had said. "We take care of dogs, feed them and love them and take 'em to the vet, and they think: 'Hey wow, these humans treat me great; they must be gods!' But with cats, well, we take care of cats, feed them and love them and take them to the vet, and they think: 'Hey wow, these humans treat me great; I must be a god!'"'

The cool, disdainful gaze boring into his seemed to agree with the latter part of the joke.

Kaito considered for a second; then a slow grin as nasty as the cat's began to creep across his face. "Hey Spot," he said softly, fixing the blue eyes with his own; "Y'know what? 'Yumi-chan doesn't know a thing about kittens. She's never had a pet of her own-- said so herself. And I'll bet that if I told her that cute little kittens just LOOOOVE baths she'd have you under the sprayer-hose in the bathroom quicker than you can say 'meow.'"

It was not his imagination; the kitten flinched, crouching a little.

"…Well, Spot? You get my drift? Just sit there nice and tight and quiet… and we'll get along just fine. Matter of fact," he said, warming to the idea, "if you don't rock the boat I'll make sure there's some tuna in it for you."

And that wasn't his imagination either-- the kitten had perked up, looking distinctly interested. Guess I've finally lost it; I'm having a conversation with a cat. But-- oh Hell, whatever works… "So-- we got a deal? Behave yourself, keep it quiet, and I'll make it worth your while. Well?" Kaito tilted his head a little to one side, surveying the kitten; Spot almost seemed to scowl for a second...

...and then, with a rather contrived (and exaggerated) expression of supreme indifference, the kitten curled up into a ball and (at least to all appearances) went to sleep.

Kaito blinked. Guess that's as good an answer as I'm gonna get. He breathed a sigh of relief and resolved privately to never, ever mention the previous conversation to anybody.

Leaning back against the wall, the young thief tried to settle a little more comfortably; a huge yawn split his face. The aspirin he had taken were starting to kick in and so long as he made no abrupt moves things weren't too bad... and he was tired. Kaito's eyes began to lid closed...

...shouldn't really nap, I suppose-that Rita girl's still here. But 'Yumi-chan'll keep her out... Could really use a couple hours've sleep...

He yawned, shivering just a little in his shirtless state. Should've gotten that bathrobe back, but I think Aoko took it to wash. No big deal, not that cold... 'S funny, though-- my shoulder's tingling, not a hurt-tingle, just a sort of itch. Side too. Feels... sort of like when your foot falls asleep and then gets feeling back later.

Awfully tired. Tired of hurting… tired of talking. Shoulder feels better, all tingly... wonder why? Kinda nice, though; never mind.

Yaaaaaaaaaawn... His head sank down onto his chest.

Doesn't hurt, so's okay. Sleepy... j'st gonna doze off f'r a few minutes... zzzzzz...

...zzzzzzzzz...

...zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

* * *

An undefined time later Kaito blinked, his eyes opening to the darkness of the stuffy closet. Mrmph? Where--? Oh, right. Dozed off. What woke me? A cheerful young woman's voice bidding farewell gave him the answer as what sounded like the front door closed. Ah; Rita-kun just left. Didn't sleep long then; guess lunch is over--

At the thought of lunch his stomach growled loudly; cursing under his breath, the young thief swallowed hard and wondered if ninjas ever had that sort of problem. It'd be pretty damned embarrassing to be nabbed out of your hidey-hole by somebody just because your stomach growled so loud they heard you… Good thing Rita-kun's gone; I doubt she'd really feel too happy about my joining her and 'Yumi-chan for lunch.

Growl, growl... grumble, rumble, gurgle... Ahhh, shutup. Stupid stomach.

He could hear clunks, rustles and clatters from down the hall; the slosh of liquid followed the opening of what was probably the 'fridge door. That pattering noise, that was Ayumi coming down the hall...

"Hei-san? Do you like peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches?" The closet door slid open to reveal a slightly smeared little girl, carefully carrying two glasses and a napkin-wrapped object-- no, TWO napkin-wrapped objects that smelled wonderful.

He drew in a deep, happy breath. "'Yumi-chan? Right now I'd eat 'em if they had rat-poison inside; you're a lifesaver!"

She giggled, then plopped down on the floor beside him and watched as he wolfed the first sandwich down. "You look like you're feeling better; did you take a nap?"

He swallowed a huge bite, following it with a gulp of soda from the glass. "Yup. Still sleepy, though… Guess I'll doze a little longer; Aoko won't be back for a little while; she needs to check on her dad as well as take care of getting my stuff for me." Kaito yawned and took another bite, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand; reprovingly his young friend passed him the napkin that had wrapped the sandwiches, and he used it with a somewhat guilty look. "Um, sorry, I'm sort of making a pig out of myself…" He began on the second sandwich.

"That's okay." The child beside him took a long swallow from her own glass. "Oh-- I almost forgot; I'll be right back." Without warning she sat the drink down and hopped up, padding out the door and back towards the kitchen; a moment later she scooted back into the bedroom carrying what looked to be a third sandwich, this time on a plate.

Hrm? Oooo, another sandwich! Looks like cheese this time…. Yeah-- don't mind if I do, 'Yumi-chan, thanks-- He began to reach for the sandwich…

But the little girl paused, looking around the room and calling softly: "Spot-chan? Spooooot--"

… oh. It's for the cat. Hey, how come HE rates a plate? All I got was a napkin. As the kitten wandered out from the closet and began to scarf up the sandwich, Kaito could swear it was smirking around its whiskers.

One-upped by a kitten. Great. He shrugged and attempted to ignore the munching sounds. "Um, 'Yumi-chan? When will Rita-kun be coming back? I might better call Aoko and let her know--"

The child wiped her mouth with her own napkin. "She said she'd be at the library all this afternoon, then she'd come and bring dinner-- we're gonna have take-out yakitori, mmmm! --at, ummmm, five o'clock I think, and then she's going back to the library for a while." Another gulp, then she put down the glass and scuffled around in one pocket, producing a well-thumbed deck of cards. "Hei-san? Can you teach me that trick now? Then I can practice it while you take a nap."

Her hopeful gaze was fixed on his, and he chuckled as he put down his own glass. "Sure. Okay, this one's almost a self-working trick-- you remember, I told you about those? You need to start out with all four Aces pulled, one on the top of the deck and the other three on the bottom--"

*

"Think you got it? Good. So… show me!" Kaito grinned at his young apprentice, fighting back another yawn.

The little girl fumbled the deck slightly but managed a creditable riffle, carefully keeping certain cards in place. "Okay…. I'm gonna start dealing the cards out, and you tell me when to stop." Starting from the top she began stacking the cards face-down on the floor; Kaito watched critically, calling out "Stop" three times. Ayumi squared off the remaining cards and placed them in a fourth stack, grinning slightly...

(and Kaito knew that grin. He wondered just how Kudo was going to feel the first time he recognized Kid's confident Poker-Face on Ayumi's young features.)

"Well?" He was grinning too. "Ante up!"

With a confident toss of her head and a flourish, Ayumi the Astounding flipped each stack of cards over in turn-to reveal an Ace sitting serenely on top of each stack. "Taaaa-daaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!"

Kaito applauded enthusiastically by slapping his one good hand against the floor. "Smooth, Ayumi-chan! I couldn't see the Bottom Charge you used just then at all. Very smooth. Now," and he crooked one eyebrow in the giggling little girl's direction as she scooped up the cards and squared the deck, "d'you think you can do that 'Pick A Card, Any Card' trick I showed you last week? I bet if you t--"

**BZZZZZZZTT!!**

The door-buzzer went off like the Trump of Doom, making them both jerk their heads up in shock. Ayumi's eyes bugged out as cards scattered in all directions, and Spot hightailed it hastily for his corner of the closet. And as for Kaito--

--don't be the cops, don't be the cops-- No, no, there's no reason the cops should show up, idiot; Aoko wouldn't tell 'em without hearing me out this evening, she SAID so, so it's not the cops unless somebody saw you land on the balcony last night... He found himself somehow buried deep in the depths of Ayumi's closet with no memory whatsoever of moving (although the muscles in his wounded side and arm said otherwise), snugged up as tightly as possible against the wall. With his good hand Kaito reached swiftly up to yank several articles of clothing down over him, considering rather wildly that if being buried under little-girl sweaters and jumper-sets would save his bacon then Hey, it was worth the indignity. "'Yumi-chan? Go see who it is--" he whispered sharply, tugging the door shut. Through the crack he could see his young apprentice gulp hard and scramble to her feet, pelting out of the room.

Distantly he could hear her voice over the pounding of his own heart. "W-who IS it?!?"

"Ayumi-kun?" Even through the distortion of the speaker Kaito could recognize the clear young voice. "It's me, Conan-- can I come up?"

"Uhhhh... just a minute..." Frantically the little girl ran back down the hall to stick her head around the doorway. "HEI-SAN!!" she hissed, eyes wide. "What'll I do?!? I forgot-- Conan and Rin and Mitsuhiko and Genta, they're all coming-- I forgot!!" She danced in place in agitation. "Hei-san?!? What'll I do?!?"

Deep in the closet, the Phantom Thief closed his eyes. Oh shit. I'm TOAST. And from the speaker he could hear the insistent, slightly worried (and now slightly suspicious) voice:

"Ayumi? Ayumi-kun? Is there something wrong?"

"Ayumi?"

Chapter Text

"So he has it."

The speaker sat once more in near-darkness, although this time the shadows were unleavened by the glow of any cigar. A leaded-glass lamp on a table on the other side of the room lent a dull, golden glare across a few feet of carpet, scarcely enough to allow the nervous man standing within its glare to see his feet.

"Yessir," he answered in a subdued tone. "He-- our agents reported that the target had been taken along with that tiara--"

The shadowed man waved this away, the movements of his hand nothing more than bare traceries of black on black. "Not important. The Eye is what matters." There was a faint, sibilant rustle of cloth as he shifted invisibly in his chair, accompanied by the clink of a glass. "I assume that none of our agents were taken?"

The other man was quick to answer. "Not alive, sir. Their bodies, though--"

"See to them. No loose ends."

The other nodded, grateful to escape that line of questioning. He wiped sweat away from his forehead, all too aware of how visible he had to be in the lamp's tawny glow. "Yessir."

The smooth voice spoke again, and this time there was a coldness about it, chilling and dangerous. "…Were any of the Elect among the dead?"

A pause; the man by the lamp closed his eyes in dread, thinking bitterly that the gods seemed to be feeling playful today. "Yessir. Suo-san; he-- took a head shot in the firefight. His body is with the others, but I can assure you we--" His voice faltered, falling silent against the hollowness in the room.

For a long moment there was nothing: not a movement, not a breath. Then the shadowed man turned a little, eyes reflecting back the lamplight like a cat's; coppery-golden in the dark, they were as emotionless and intent as any tiger's. "Be sure that you do," he said softly, and then turned away back to the darkness.

The other man shivered. "Y-yessir." His own eyes slid hopefully towards a distant, near-invisible line of silvery light that indicated the room's exit. "Shall I go take care of it now?" Please, some near-forgotten part of him prayed, don't look at me again.

--and oh Kami-sama, don't let him touch me--

He was fortunate; the eyes remained fixed on some point in the blackness. "Go on. And--"

The man was halfway to the door, but he paused immediately; "Yessir?" Just let me go--

"Send in Jiro-san to me, will you?" The words were smooth again, although the coldness still lingered and the edges were perhaps a trifle sharper than before. "I have work for him. And let it be known that he'll be taking his brother's place, effective immediately."

"Jiro-san-- uh, yessir. Of course, sir." The man quickly left the room, briefly allowing a wash of illumination in through the door before it shut behind him and he stumbled out into the corridor outside. Once there, he leaned against the wall until his heart stopped crashing, and then quickly continued on his way down the hall.

Inside the blackened room there was only the sound of breathing; then the shadowed man whispered softly to himself, a litany of words in a tongue that bore no resemblance to modern Japanese. The words seemed to echo; one after another they hung in the air and then faded into silence.

The last word to be spoken was 'Suo.' Then he took a deep hissing breath and whispered to himself again in the tones of a quotation; had there been anyone else there who understood, they might have heard:

"...'Thou shalt either be killed and attain heaven or conquer and enjoy the earth, O my son, so rise thou up...' Suo, you fool..."

The room answered him back with darkness.

* * *

The bus pulled away from the curb behind the young woman with a pneumatic chuff of hydraulics. Nakamori Aoko smoothed her rather unruly hair back a little, glancing up and down the sidewalk a bit guiltily as she hefted the bag she was carrying. Of course, there she was out on a school day, without a uniform AND without the official presence of a parent or whatever; no wonder she felt like a delinquent.

The bus trip had passed in a daze; it was a wonder that she had gotten off at the right stop, what with all the thoughts swirling in her head. Worries about her father battled it out with the simple, bewildering shock of her best friend's revelations that morning… and the result of it all looked like it was going to be a headache of monumental proportions, once Aoko had time to sit down and allow herself to feel it.

For the moment, though...

Just keep moving, she thought fiercely; Just keep on going and you'll do fine. If you stop and let yourself THINK too hard, that's when you'll lose it-- and right now, you can't afford that. Besides, if you lose it you won't be able to hear the rest of what Kaito has to say. That was a pretty good incentive, really; she hadn't been joking when she had told him that he'd better have a damned good explanation for what he had been doing.

And it's not like he couldn't have told me; I mean, we've been friends for-- how long? Ever since we met in front of the Clock Tower when we were kids. And lately we've been... well, he should have told me. What did he think I'd do? Scream for my father without giving him a chance to explain? Aoko felt a slow flush of anger kindle through her as the unlocked her front door; the lack of trust had hurt, no matter how well she had hidden it.

Kaito, if you don't have a really, really good reason for this... I'll... I don't know what I'll do. I really don't know. The anger tried to fade away into pain, but she managed to hold onto it; anger was good, anger was familiar. Anger made her feel stronger... as if she was a little more in control of things that she had been, a little more aware. As if she hadn't missed what had been right in front of her eyes.

Calling out "Tadaima!" more from reflex than anything else (it was pretty unlikely her father was home), the Inspector's daughter slipped off her shoes and stomped towards the kitchen with her bundle of bloodstained laundry.

I'd better get these washing first…. Let's see: cold water for blood, right; better pretreat them-- Sloshing generous amounts of stain-removers around, she spent a few minutes scrubbing at the load of washcloths, towels, child's pajamas and the small rug that she had collected from Ayumi's; muttered curses heaped on Kaito's head kept time to the work (and kept her anger at a manageable level, for that matter), and she finally dumped the whole lot into the washer with a sigh of relief.

How many times in the past had she had to deal with bloodstains on her father's clothes? Too many. As Aoko dropped the top on the washer, she wondered briefly what he would say about her washing Kaitou Kid's laundry in the same machine as his... Probably something unprintable. Certainly something obscene.

And-why was she thinking about stupid things like that, anyway? Why wasn't she working on how she was going to explain that the boy she had grown up with-- the boy he had allowed to play with his daughter, who'd eaten at his table, the boy he had watched grow up beside her… was the criminal he had been trying to catch over the past two years or so?

She WAS going to tell her father...

...wasn't she? Wasn't she?

Aaaargh! Never mind; now she really was getting a headache. Maybe a cup of tea and something to eat would make her feel a little better--

**BRRRRP**
**BRRRRP**

The horrible buzzing of her cell-phone nearly made her jump out of her skin. Leaning back against the washer, Aoko pulled it from a pocket and tapped it on with slightly shaky hands. "Moshi moshi--? Oh-- Hello, Tousan..."

...Speak of the devil and up he jumps...

Her father's voice sounded even tireder than she felt; apparently his staff had managed to keep him from entering his office (much to his blasphemously-expressed displeasure-- he had probably made up a few new words just for the occasion) while the Bomb Squad took yet another good, hard look. No bombs yet; but they were still checking, the paperwork was mounting up, he was safely ensconced in a secure room offsite and was currently doing his best to elevate his blood pressure beyond the boiling point.

It hadn't helped that the door on Nakamori's office had been found unlocked. It had very definitely been locked prior to the campus heist, and the hall security cameras in that area had been disabled not long after the heist's beginning by an expert hand-- replacement footage showing empty corridors had been manually slotted in. Someone had been waiting for him, and without the warning that had kept him out Aoko's father would've most likely have gone in to work and never come home.

(like Kaito's tousan had, her mind whispered.)

All told, Nakamori Senior sounded pretty much like his daughter had expected he would; she felt a vast wave of relief wash through her, almost strong enough to make her feel a little faint. He was okay. And now he was asking about--

"Me? I'm fine, Tousan-- no, I don't want to stay at a safe house, I'm okay here 'til you get home...? Oh-- I guess that-- makes sense." It didn't look like he'd be home that evening; his stay in the safehouse his superiors had placed him in had been extended. Aoko bit her lip, a cold trickle of fear beginning to walk its way up her spine. Maybe she could stay with Keiko-kun or something? Or--

Well, that would work...

"Tousan? I could stay over at Kaito's-- he's at home sick right now so I won't be alone… and besides, he needs somebody to, to take care of him since his mom's out of town... Would that be okay?" Aoko pushed an unruly lock of hair out of her eyes, wondering if she had lost her mind completely. Let's see, a translation of the question I just asked would be "Hey Tousan, can I stay at Kaitou Kid's secret hideout tonight? He's been shot by the bad guys so I don't think I'll have to worry about him being much of a threat, not that I couldn't handle him since he's also Kaito-kun..."

Apparently it was alright with her dad; he actually approved of Kaito (a little, anyway), something she couldn't allow herself to think too hard about just now without having hysterics. Fighting back the bubble of slightly manic laughter that kept trying to take over, Aoko spent a minute or two scribbling down contact numbers and addresses of where he would be staying. Just before hanging up, she commented that maybe he get somebody to stop by the house-- she'd leave a couple of pairs of his shoes on the front porch for him as well as some clothes.

I won't apologize. I'm worried about him, I'm scared for him, but I won't apologize for keeping him from going in right away this morning like a complete moron and getting killed. Not quite, anyway.

Her dad didn't quite apologize for being a stubborn idiot, but his gruff mutter of thanks for the shoes-and-clothes idea went a long ways towards the general concept (well, probably as close as his daughter was going to see him get, anyway; he wasn't very good at apologies either.) Aoko sighed as she flicked the cellphone shut, feeling a little forlorn; it wasn't that she had actually expected her dad to come home, not after a death-threat and all.

...but still...

It was the whole stupid, stupid secrets thing again. As she poked around the kitchen looking for something that vaguely resembled lunch, the things she had heard that morning simmered in the back of her mind like a pot that kept trying to boil over. WHY hadn't he told her? I mean, she thought angrily as she slammed a cabinet shut (it looked like it was going to be a leftovers day; she needed to go shopping), if there's anybody that knows a lot about Kaitou Kid, it's me. I've been hearing about him since I was in Elementary school! I even SAW him then once-- Kaito's dad, I guess; I was-- what? Seven? Kaito and I had only met a month or so earlier, so I couldn't have been very old.

Unseeingly she stared at the microwave as leftover rice and a day-old container of takeout Chinese reheated, remembering...

She had gotten in trouble for doing something stupid at school-- there had been this other girl who was sort of a bully and Aoko had called her a rude name (even then her father's influence was showing up.) The teacher had been less than pleased; her father had been even less pleased to be called up for an evening Teacher-Parent conference.

It had been short and to the point; the teacher had been stern, Nakamori had been disgruntled, and Aoko-chan had sulked on her seat in the corner of the office until it was over.

They had been leaving when her dad got the message on his radio: the Phantom Thief had been spotted near the Tokyo Civic Center, less than two blocks away. Little Aoko hadn't been afraid-- after all, she was with her tousan and HE was a cop; if there were bad guys around, he could shoot them for her. And besides, she thought, bouncing excitedly in the backseat of the squadcar, whenever she got to see her dad working she always learned some new words!

Of course, they tended to get her into even more trouble at school, but oh well.

It was somewhat anticlimactic to arrive just as the Phantom Thief was leaving; they just hadn't been quick enough. Aoko had craned her head against the glass, staring in astonishment at the white blur racing across the rooftop across the street. There were uniformed figures behind it, lots of them, and they were all waaaay up high-- her dad was shouting all sorts of stuff from the front seat, leaning out the window and calling the Kid names she had never heard before. There was no chance the thief could escape, was there? They were so far up and there were so many cops after him--

Of course, if you're running FROM all the cops, then there aren't any in front of you to block your exit, are there?

Aoko's jaw had dropped as she watched the swift white figure fling itself off the edge of the roof-- she'd screeched and hidden her face behind her hands, peeking out between her fingers and unable to look away as he fell and fell and fell--

--and then a miracle had happened: a white something, like wings maybe, had burst out of nowhere on the falling thief. His plummet had changed in angle and become a steep swoop, then level flight, and then an arc that carried him RIGHT overhead from across the street. Aoko had rolled her window down by now, and as she'd stuck her head out and peered wide-eyed up she had, briefly, seen a laughing blur of a face below the shadow of his top-hat less than three meters above their car...

Her father had actually managed to propel himself out of the window with one foot on the windowsill and the other on the roof in a vain attempt to reach his favorite quarry-- not that it had done him any good whatsoever. Later on, when Aoko-chan had helped him with his copious band-aids and Merthiolate, she had asked him: Why did he want to catch Kaitou Kid so much?

That was when he had explained it to her. Kaitou Kid was a thief; thieves stole things-- and stealing was bad, she knew that, right? So all those nights when he couldn't come home to her, all those nights when she had to stay with the next-door-neighbors or the babysitter down the street… he'd been trying to catch Kaitou Kid. The Kid was why he hadn't been at her school recital; the Kid was the reason behind his not taking her to the carnival a few weeks before. The Kid stole free time from him, and that stole time together with his daughter away from Aoko-chan.

And that was when she'd begun to hate Kaitou Kid.

BEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Aoko jumped; Oh, right, the microwave-- She had been worlds away, remembering… and she'd told Kaito all about it the next day, too; he had been properly impressed. And now, all these years later, she wondered what he thought of the memory. If only he had been there to see his father swoop like a white bird through the dusk, past streetlights and signs and powerlines; Aoko had actually felt the wind of his passing on her young face.

And here she was again, dealing with Kaitou Kid. Only... now it was her best friend that was involved and she was so damned confused about the whole thing she could scream.

Aaaargh. Lunch; lunch would help, DOING things would help. She could go over and feed Kaito's doves, pick up his clothes and then...

The young woman bit back an "ouch!" as the hot dishes from the microwave burned her fingers; dammit, she kept getting distracted--

...and then?

Sliding into a chair at her kitchen table, Aoko took a large bite of leftover chow mein and wondered uneasily what secrets she would learn next.

* * *

Today, Kuroba Kaito reflected, was not a good day to be a Phantom Thief.

There he lay at the very back of Ayumi-chan's closet among the shoes and dustbunnies, hoping rather frantically that he looked as much like a heap of fallen kiddie-clothing as he thought he did. He couldn't properly pull himself up into a ball, not with his wounded shoulder; he couldn't properly disguise himself-- everything was either at home or among the heap of miscellaneous items that he had pulled into the closet with him. Besides, what could he disguise himself as? A shoe-rack?

Outside the closet he could hear the frantic rustle of 'Yumi-chan as she threw on clothes; she had still been padding around in her pajamas when her visitors arrived (the ones that were currently bellowing "Hurry up, Ayumi-kun! We got a copy of Shanghai Noon to watch, and Genta-kun needs the bathroom!" outside her apartment door-- apparently Mitsuhiko, Rin and the impatient Genta had been right behind Conan.) The little girl yelled back for them to wait, that'd she be just a moment-and then out the door she went, slamming it behind her.

Whew. Now if they'd just stay in the living room and NOT come looking for anything in the closet... Nothing in here but a bunch of shoes, clothes, coathangers, a shoe-rack that's making much too personal contact with my backside and one Phantom Thief in somewhat damaged condition. Oh,and a snoozing kitten. Spot had decided that this was a good time for a bath and a nap; a quick once-over of his paws and face and he had curled up to sleep the sleep of the Amazingly Cute.

As he listened to the front door opening and the complaints/hellos/chatterings of the incoming kids, Kaito's thoughts kept ricocheting for some reason to something he had heard from a fellow classmate, an exchange student from India named Rukma Pratibha, regarding a thing she called 'karma.' Supposedly you earned what you got, or you got what you earned, or something like that...? It wasn't quite identical to the Budhist concept, and hell if he knew what HE had been doing in a past life to warrant being trapped in a little girl's closet by a handful of gradeschoolers and a demonically-intelligent miniature detective. It had to have been something pretty damned drastic, though, especially since another factor had just been added by the sound of Genta-kun's activities in the bathroom:

He needed a turn in there soon himself. Real soon. REAL soon.

How long was Shanghai Noon, anyway? A couple of hours? Kaito groaned silently and began to try and think about something other than bathrooms and running water and--

"Hey, Genta-kun! Hurry up, okay? I'm next and Mitsuhiko's behind me. What'd you do, fall in?" That was Conan. Well, of course it was.

Kaito fidgeted, rather desperately trying to concentrate on something else-- magic tricks, his wounds, heists, schoolwork, the Pandora Gem, doves, Aoko, anything. It was going to be a long, long two hours... and he didn't even get to watch the movie, dammit!

*

Two very long hours later… and then another hour after that…

"Rewind it again, rewind it again! Let's watch the shootout one more time--! That was so COOL! Didja see how the sunlight was shining through all those bullet-holes in his clothes?!?" Kaito would never have figured Genta and Rin (RIN-kun, for God's sake!) to be such Western fans. The cheering level in the other room had reached stadium proportions at certain points, although Conan had had to do some fast talking during a few parts of the movie ("Conan-kun? What's a-- a bordello? It looks kinda like a bath-house, but not exactly--.")

That had been funny; not so funny was the fact that if Kaito didn't manage to reach a bathroom pretty soon he was fairly certain he was going to die. Now THAT would be an ignominious end for a Phantom Thief, wouldn't it? Death by kidney failure... And his shoulder was throbbing; and Spot was snoring slightly, the little rat.

**creeeeaaakkkk**

!!!

Kaito went on the alert; that had been Ayumi-chan's door. Who the--?? Let's see, from the voices in the living room I can make out…. Ayumi… Mitsuhiko, and that was Rin… and… Genta...

Oh. Oh no.

Well, of COURSE it had to be Conan, didn't it? The thief sank down as far as possible beneath his admittedly-pathetic camouflage of Ayumi-sized jumpers and blouses and waited, wondering what the rules were about taking out loans on your karma.

* * *

Something wasn't right; Edogawa Conan could smell it, both figuratively and mentally. Something, somewhere, was... well, he hated to use the old cliché of 'fishy,' but it fit just now. Something stank of misdirection.

He had noticed it as soon as Ayumi-chan let them in: a whiff of disinfectant and a peculiar dampness in the air, an unfamiliarity in a place that he had become very familiar with over the past year and a half or so. The dampness he could put off to the recent rain, if this had been a house (roofs leak, after all) but it was an apartment building, and then there was that faint smell of some sort of-- what was it? Merthiolate? Hydrogen Peroxide? Maybe, or something similar...

Ayumi had been a bit nervous, hadn't she? Her eyes had kept straying down the hall towards her room, no matter how interested she was in the movie.

And then there was the bathroom. There had been pale drops of dried pinkish-brown on the floor where something stained had been wrung out in the sink and had splashed. The garbage-can was normal enough for the most part, but there was a used-up spool of first-aid tape sitting right in the top layer as well as two clean tag-ends of what looked to be gauze bandage fabric... and the disinfectant-smell was stronger in here, much stronger than out in the hall...

Someone had gotten hurt.

One of the reasons that Kudo Shinichi/Edogawa Conan had managed his rather phenomenal level of deductive success had been his willingness to follow clues to their conclusions without pulling back from the unthinkable. Most people, when working things out, had a limit beyond which they did subconsciously did not tend to venture; it was hard for your average mind to get past ideas like "He's too nice to be a murderer" or "She wouldn't hurt a fly" or "Why would THEY do something like THAT?" He had specialized, both before and after his 'reduction' in thinking what other people did not want to think.

But right now... Right now, he was the one who just did NOT want to follow the clues through to their logical conclusion. He had heard the rumors from the stationhouse via a phone call to Mouri-kun; someone had seen Kaitou Kid possibly take a bullet during the previous evening's escapade at the University Museum. Of course, the little spatters and the medical debris could have come from Ayumi's American babysitter or even her mother; it could have been from something as innocent as a bad papercut or an unfortunate slice on a knife at dinnertime... if it hadn't been for the threads.

They had been lying on the hallway carpet where they had been trodden into the fibers by someone's shoe: long, fine silvery threads from some very white and silky garment; their pallor must have been extreme before they had gotten the reddish-brown bloodstains that clotted half of their length. The ends were unfrayed, showing that they had been cut apart rather than snagged, probably by scissors; and tangled with them was a single dark blue cotton thread.

Silvery white cloth with a silky finish, stained with blood; dark blue cotton, equally stained. Conan really didn't want to think about what he was thinking about... but the part of his brain that never quite relaxed kept putting two and two together and getting an injured 1412.

In Ayumi-kun's apartment. After the thief had SWORN not to involve her in his… nocturnal pursuits.

If anyone had been standing close enough to hear, they would have wondered about the low growling sound coming from the little boy who slowly opened the door to Ayumi's bedroom. Conan's face was like stone as he glared around the room, wondering where to begin.

He couldn't really blame Ayumi-chan-- it had had to have been hard, dividing your loyalties that much... and that was just one more bit of fuel on the fire that he currently felt like roasting Kid over. As his eyes were busy scanning the room, the detective's mind kept gnawing at one particular question: WHY would the thief break his word? Okay, admittedly the word 'thief' might have something to do with it, since the very act of theft required Kaitou Kid to be a specialist in deception; but somehow Conan was certain that his adversary tended to keep his promises when he made them... So WHY, then? He quietly stepped towards Ayumi's bed, his fuming beginning to cool a little as reason asserted itself past what felt oddly like betrayal.

Two possibilities came to mind (and why was there something that looked for all the world like white cat-fur all over Ayumi's bed?) First: the thief had done a really superb job of pulling the wool over Conan's eyes and had never told the truth at all… The thought was galling, but it was possible. Second: something drastic had happened, something that put either the Phantom Thief's life or that of an innocent in jeopardy. It wouldn't just be an injury, even a gunshot-wound, he thought absently, peering beneath his friend's bed and sweeping a hand across the floor (more cat hair?) Unless he was REALLY in trouble he'd be a lot more likely to head back to wherever he goes when he's not 'active'-- I mean, the guy can't live in a vacuum, he's got to have some sort of safe haven. Maybe he even has a double identity of some sort. Weird thought; he looked about my age, my real one… does he go to school somewhere, maybe even to my old high school? Does he have a family, and do they know what he does at night? Do they care? His father-- he died, I got that right when I guessed it. Is his mother still alive? The boy sighed, wandering over to the sliding glass door that opened onto Ayumi's balcony. So many questions…

Conan stared moodily down at a spot in the carpet halfway between the bed and the door that might have been blood; the damp smell he had noticed was strong. Listen to me, I almost sound like I'm defending him. That's… stupid, like a cat defending a rat. The problem is, this rat seems to have a fairly strong moral code. He needed to look a little further... Ah.

The boy stopped abruptly, frowning suddenly down at his sock-clad feet (he had kicked his scuffs off at the doorway to allow for quiet movement.) Hrm; somebody was careless... Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I was hoping I was wrong, sort of, though I can't think why. The carpet underfoot was damp, very damp-- and the drier bits were stiff, as if they had been water-soaked and then allowed to dry without being blotted up. Of course, Ayumi-kun could have just left her window open last night-- no, there it is... A smear of something reddish-brown about the length of his hand stood out in stark detail on the door-jamb at roughly shoulder height to an adult.

Not something Ayumi left, then… Goddammit, Kid, WHY did you do this? Conan's eyes narrowed as he turned to regard the room with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. You had to have a good reason, but-- you SWORE you wouldn't get her involved, and if you came here for refuge you sure as hell have. Whatever made you break your promise better have been worth a jail-cell, because like it or not, you're--

Wait. What was that? There had been the barest scrape of a sound.

Unerringly Conan's gaze swung towards the closet. He took a step forward, his young face settling into grim lines as he brought his watch up and flicked the cover open, cocking the trigger-- and then hesitated.

Shit. If I catch him here and now, I'll have to explain to the kids. Ayumi'll be heartbroken, I'll have to call the cops and her involvement will come out. Wonderful, just wonderful. So what the hell DO I do? I guess I could pop him with a dart and keep him unconscious 'til later, but they don't really last that long. Three or four darts? Or I could just leave him alone and then catch him when he leaves; he can't stay here forever.

There it was again, a sort of faint rustling noise. And it was DEFINITELY coming from the closet; it cut off abruptly, the silence seeming as loud as thunder in contrast.

I need to know for sure, though. I don't think he'll hurt me, even knowing that I'm not a real kid. So: just one look.

He closed his watch and reached for the closet door...

*

ShitShitShit. I am so totally screwed you could use me to mount shelves on at this point.

Kaito could practically FEEL the Shrimp's eyes boring holes through the closet door; he was busted, he knew it, he knew it, he knew it... and it was all Spot's fault. The goddamn Fiend in Feline Form had woken up from his nap, yawned once, and then streeeeeeeeetched... making just enough noise to be heard. And right now the little monster was calmly washing a paw!

Maybe if he just sat very, very still...

Oh, hell. Footsteps, just outside the closet door-- small ones, Conan-sized. A faint rattling sound, as if-- yup. He was well and truly fucked. And now the small fingers were tightening on the latch; Kaito could hear them...

Any defenses available? Nope; he was more or less sprawled on top of his remaining arsenal of smoke grenades, sonic bombs, card-gun, et cetera; and besides, they wouldn't exactly do him much good in his current condition. Lastly he'd be damned if he'd scare the crap out of poor 'Yumi-chan like that (this was gonna be hard enough on the poor girl as it was.) So: he was doomed. Aoko would kill him when she found out.

Kaito closed his eyes silently in defiance and despair, resigning himself unhappily to an anesthetic dart and a protracted stay in the hoosegow (at least, until he managed to escape); somehow the whole situation just didn't seem quite real. In his mind the young thief found himself composing a note...

'Dear Mom: I'm really sorry you're getting this letter from jail, but please let me explain. You know that "little secret" of Dad's that you somehow never got around to telling me about? The one about his "night job"? The one where he wore a frikkin' CAPE?!? Well, guess what I found by accident one day a while back? Seems we have a secret room under the house, just full of all sorts of interesting stuff...'

The closet door clicked softly and began to slide back on its track--

"Conan-kun?" Rin's bright young voice made him jump. "We need to get going-- if we don't make it home before Kaasan gets there she might decide to cook and you KNOW what that's like--"

The door stopped moving with a sudden, brutal jerk; it had opened scarcely a centimeter. From beyond it came a single anguished exclamation and hurrying steps. "Urk!  Okay, okay! Hey, guys, Ayumi? We've gotta go--"

Oh. Wow.

Kaito felt his eyes pop open very, VERY wide in shock. Jeeze, did Somebody up there suddenly declare this 'Be Nice To Kaito' Day? Or maybe I got that loan on my karma I was wondering about?  Ayumi's door snicked quietly shut; the sounds of the Detective Boys (and Girls) getting ready to leave filled all the available airspace for a few minutes, until their final farewells and the closing of the outer door signaled their departure. Hopefully, anyway.

The young thief let the breath hiss out from his lungs, not really surprised to find that he had been holding it; no wonder he felt a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was relief-- he had fully expected one of those damned little anesthetic-darts at the very least, or maybe some sort of angry accusation... but nope. You got off easy this time, Thief Boy; but don't count on it lasting. He knew, or almost knew that you were there; two seconds more and he would've been sure. One hand came slowly up to clasp his wounded arm as he shivered. And… he left because Rin's mom was going to COOK?!? God, how bad can she be?  He blinked, then glared at the innocent-looking ball of fluff that was currently attempting to wash its ears down by his feet. Maybe I should try feeding some of it to YOU, you little--

"Hei-san? Hei-san, they're gone--"

Ayyyumi-chan! Bathroom! NOW! As the door to the closet slid open and Kaito blinked in the room's light, he began struggling up from his makeshift hiding-place. Ayumi eeped slightly as he seemed to burst (well, as much as a person could burst at a slow crawl) from the fallen clothes and heaped shoes; Spot shot past her in the sort of cartoon-character dead run that kittens all seem to have, even Kittens From Hell. "Um, 'Yumi-chan? Could you please help me up? There's something I really need to take care of RIGHT this minute--"

It took some doing, but with his small apprentice's help and a great deal of desperation, Kaito made it into the bathroom and shut the door behind him... just barely in time.

* * *

The letter-box by the door read KUROBA; Aoko had seen it a million times before, and she always noticed absentmindedly that the paint could use a little touching up here and there. Japan's snows had done far more damage than the mild sun or pounding rain, making the black coating crack around the letters; it had been painted white before, and the paler surface beneath showed through.

As analogies go, it's a little too obvious, thought the Inspector's daughter irritably as she inserted the key. Mentally she cursed her overactive imagination; what was she going to be doing next, reading fortunes in tea leaves? Looking for omens in the flight of birds?

The door creaked as she opened it; vaguely she recalled Kaito's mother commenting that he needed to oil the hinges. It didn't look like he would be able to do much around the house for a while--

--and why on earth was she thinking about things like that, anyway? More distractions; lunch hadn't really helped much. Slamming the door behind her with a little more force than was really necessary, Aoko grumbled to herself as she entered the silent, darkened house.

Kaito's home was easily as familiar to her as her own, almost more so, since she had spent so much time there since she was a kid. Funny, though… now that she knew what she knew (and just what DO I know, really? He hasn't told me everything yet--) Aoko found herself looking around uneasily, as if the prosaic, well-known rooms had suddenly transformed into Terra Incognito. That notebook there on the kitchen counter-- had Kaito used it to write down notes for a heist? The scatter of screws and the small screwdriver on the breakfast table-- what had they come from? The Phantom Thief that her father stalked tended towards all sorts of mechanical devices; had they all been created by Kaito's father… or had he...

He's always been good with electronics and gadgets, always.

Aoko shivered slightly; the house was too quiet, almost dead silent without the comforting presence of Kaito or his mom. In fact, all she could really hear was the sound of his doves cooing on the back porch. I should probably take care of feeding his doves-- It wasn't like she didn't know how; she had been around them for ages and knew where everything was kept.

Let's see... Millet-and-sunflower-seed mix, grit with the extra crushed eggshells, those vitamin drops Kaito was using last month for their water; I don't see any, maybe he ran out-- As the girl rummaged through the cabinet just inside the back door, the cooing on the porch outside increased in both volume and intensity; the doves could hear her and knew what she was doing. There, that ought to be it… A few moments later found her filling the last of the dove's water-bottles in the kitchen sink, carefully rinsing the drip-tubes to make sure no algae had decided to grow there. Doves got sick easily-- you had to be careful about keeping their equipment as clean as possible, which wasn't exactly that simple considering some of their habits.

Scratchy little claws alighted suddenly on top of the young woman's head, announcing the presence of one of the more aggressive birds; the larger ones ate first and finished first as well. Two more followed, landing on either shoulder, and Aoko laughed despite herself; their feet tickled. They cooed in her ears, demanding her attention; the boldest walked down her arm to perch on her wrist, looking for treats and scratches.

"You're as bad as he is," she whispered, working her fingers gently beneath the neck-feathers at the back of the dove's head; it closed its ruby-red eyes, leaning hard against the scratch and letting out little hisses and chortling noises of contentment. "Always wanting somebody to pay attention."

…and you're all in white too… and you can fly… and Kaito... the Kaitou...

Aoko's fingers slowly stilled; the bird opened one eye and let out an impatient oooooWooot! sound, but she paid no attention as her gaze came to rest on something she had seen a thousand times before-- and, maybe, had never really seen at all.

Kaito kept a lot of the odds and ends of his magic tricks (the ones that involved doves, anyways) in a box on the back porch; it was a small wooden crate filled with beaten-up hats, the occasional stained handkerchief, a couple of harnesses that had never quite worked out, several bottles of feather dye and clip-on false tails from the infamous Bright Purple Parrot incident... and something small and metallic that glinted up at her from beneath a moth-eaten hatbrim. Curiously she picked it up, turning the device over and over in her fingers. It was very small, no more than couple of centimeters long, with a tiny lens and some sort of antenna; it seemed to be attached to a strap of some sort-- maybe to go on a bird's leg? And there was a bit that looked like a microphone...

Abruptly she dropped it back into the heap of oddments and backed away a step or two, trying to ignore the fact that the beaten-up top-hat it landed beside had once been white.  She didn't want to know, she just didn't want to know, she didn't, she didn't--

--but if she didn't, then what the hell was she doing? Aoko sat down rather hard on the steps; the birds fluttered away from her to join the rest of their flock. I could have called Tousan--

--except that I just COULDN'T. I couldn't, not like that, not without giving Kaito a chance to explain. I promised. And not in front of that little girl... I've never really seen Kaito around little kids before; neither of us have had much experience with younger kids but she thinks the world of him, I could see it in her eyes. And he treated her like a little sister.

She rested her head in both hands, pillowing her elbows on her knees. It was all so damned confusing; everything, everything had flipped over and turned around, upside down and backwards and-- The day before she had been Aoko and he had been Kaito and they had been somewhere between being best friends and a couple of some sort… maybe… and now they were--

--what?

--something else? Did she have to lose what they had been, just to add this on? Right, she hated Kid-- had hated him when she was younger, and then when he came back all those years later and took her father back away from her again… she hated him; that was going to be tough to let go of. Even now, knowing that Kaito was… that she had SEEN him with the top hat and the monocle and those wounds, with that silky white cape and the rest of the outfit… and there were all those little gadgets and that weird-looking gun thing and--

Three more of Kaito's doves apparently decided that she had been still long enough to make an acceptable perch; with a rush and flutter they landed on her bent shoulders and settled themselves, cooing as Aoko let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. Resting there with her eyes closed and her head down on her knees, it was suddenly very easy for Aoko to picture her friend working on the devices she'd seen; he'd have that intent look on his face, like the one he always got when he was studying a new trick or figuring out a practical joke.

(There had been a time or two in the last few months when she had even caught him looking at her with that expression, as if she were some mystery that he had to interpret and solve… It had made her quiver somewhere deep inside, that look; something, some part of her that Aoko had barely been aware of had raised its head from the depths and had looked back in silent answer.)

...and now here she sat in Kaito's stupid dove-cote (if you could call it that; he kept the door to the outside open so they could fly in and out freely) with stupid bloodstains on her clothes, birds perching on her shoulders and a really STUPIDLY bewildering secret hammering inside her aching head. She rubbed at her temples, grimacing; I wish I had somebody to talk to about this, it'd make everything a lot clearer if I could just--

**BRRRRP**
**BRRRRP**

--if I could just get a cellphone that DOESN'T MAKE ME LEVITATE WHEN IT GOES OFF. Right; that'd help. Doves fluttered away again as the young woman pulled the offending object out of her pocket with a somewhat hunted feeling (did Kaito feel like that every time he saw a cop, she wondered) and tapped a button. "Moshi moshi--"

"Nakamori-kun? I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I--"

It took a moment for the voice to register. Of all people... "Hakuba-kun? Um… aren't you in school?" She felt slightly stupid; of course he was at school, it was only early afternoon-- he'd be between classes. Unconsciously her eyes strayed to the tiny device lying a few feet away in the crate of odds and ends, and Aoko saw her own hand go out involuntarily and tug the dirty white top-hat over to cover it.

Now why had she just done that?

Never mind-- "I heard about your father being involved in an altercation last night-- and there were problems at his office this morning? Are you both all right?"  Her classmate's British-accented voice held just the right amount of concern… it always did. Hakuba Sugaru was always nice to her, always polite; he liked Aoko and made no bones about showing it. Privately she had wondered a time or two just how much his show of restrained charm had to do with his obvious rivalry with Kaito, but--

Wait a minute. Several facts suddenly clicked together; now she really DID feel stupid. Kaito and Hakuba... Oh. Hakuba and all those little references to the Phantom Thief that he was constantly making, trying to annoy his classmate with-- she had always thought he was just digging at Kaito's apparent admiration of the thief, not trying to...

Aoko felt sick; her stomach lurched with realization as she nearly dropped the phone. Several more doves fluttered around her, coming to rest on the steps and on her shoulders and arms again as she stared at the device in her hand; their cooing almost drowned out the insistent, nagging voice calling her name-- "Nakamori-kun? Nakamori? Aoko-kun, are you still there?"

"Uhhh-- r-right, I'm fine. I didn't know anybody else had heard about that… Hakuba-kun? How did YOU know?" The inspector's daughter fought to steady her voice; the bird perching on her left shoulder reacted to the tension in her words with ruffled feathers and an undovelike BRRRRRTTT! sort of noise right in her ear, an avian raspberry; she ignored it and moved the phone to her other ear.

"I-- ah well, I have my sources… my father's contacts down at the station, that sort of thing; and I was worried. Where are you staying? You shouldn't be alone, you know--" The voice on the other end of the line sounded slightly confused about the background sounds but doggedly refused to be sidetracked. There was a slight nasal sound to Hakuba's tone, though, a sniffling, almost as if her classmate had developed a cold. "If you're in need of help, I'd be glad to send a taxi over for you..." The gentle request for her whereabouts was so carefully phrased as to sound helpful-- which it probably was, really; Hakuba-kun DID seem to like her, and subterfuge wasn't his strong point. He sniffled again, waiting.

"No, no… I'm fine. I'm-- staying with a friend and his mom--"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Aoko could have bitten her tongue to get them back; HER mom, HER mom, I should have said HER mom!!! Dammit, dammit, dammit-- and now I'm sounding like my dad again, too--

The note of surprise in the voice was slightly jarring; she wondered if Hakuba-kun knew that his voice got more British when he got suspicious... "--You are? That's, ahh-- that's good, of course. I'm glad to hear it." He was going to ask her, she just knew it. For some reason Aoko felt her cheeks began to burn, which was ridiculous of course and why should she be getting embarrassed? Hakuba-kun cleared his throat uncomfortably before going on. "Nakamori-kun? In case someone needs to reach you --who are you staying with? That is… their number? I could pass it along to our teachers if you'd like." Sniffle, sniffle; he sneezed once.

"Um, that's very-- very nice of you, Hakuba-kun. I'm staying with… Kaito-kun's mom. You know that his house is right by mine, don't you?" She hoped desperately that this sounded like this was a reasonable argument; from the abrupt silence on the other end of the line it didn't seem like her classmate thought so at all, so she rushed on: "He's sick-- throwing up and fever and everything, and my dad didn't want me to go out much if I could help it so I'm… staying here. In his house." Feeling herself grow beet-red, she added "with his MOM" with perhaps a little too much emphasis. And then she fidgeted.

"Oh."

The British were absolute masters at expressing disfavor with a single word, weren't they? She might as well have said, 'I'm going to be sleeping in a cardboard box in a back alley with a bunch of slugs' for all the approval that came across. Usually he was so polite... A bit of her earlier irritation broke through Aoko's tension, barbing her tongue just a little and making her add, "After all, I know him better than anybody else, don't I? I'll be fine here-- and besides, he's a pain when he's sick; his poor mom shouldn't have to handle him the whole time, should she?"

"...I suppose not; I can't imagine a worse patient, myself. Throwing up, is he?" There was something in his voice now, a hint of guarded suspicion and interest that made her nerves even edgier than before. "No bruises or anything like that?"

Her hands were beginning to sweat onto the cellphone, leaving damp patches; the plastic was slick against her palms as she replied with as much innocence as she could muster, "Bruises? Noooo… I mean, unless he's fallen out of bed in the last few hours." That sounded more than a little lame; with the haste of someone unused to lying, Aoko immediately hurried to extemporize. "I, um, think he got a few scratches from my kitten-- Spot, you remember?  My birthday gift?" A few really BIG scratches, she thought rather wildly...

"The kitten. Yes."

Was it her imagination, or did he actually sound-- surly? "What's wrong, Hakuba-kun? Don't you like cats?"

There was a long hesitation on the other end of the phoneline; then the half-Brit's voice came back reluctantly, a distinctly uncomfortable tone to his words. "Ah, actually I'm allergic. Badly allergic. VERY badly, in fact."  From discreetly off-mike she could hear him blowing his nose again, and Aoko pictured the fair-haired, pale-skinned Hakuba-san with puffy eyes and a red, running nose and...

It was a good thing just then that a number of doves decided to break out in a birdish sort of argument; their warbles and indignant cries pretty much muffled any giggles that escaped from behind the young woman's hands as her classmate continued on: "In any case, never mind; one can always take allergy medicines, after all... I don't suppose that Kuroba-kun is allergic as well, is he?" If it had been anyone else, Aoko might have said that he sounded hopeful. He sneezed again, twice, sharp as gunshots over the phone.

"No, he's not; in fact," she answered almost cheerfully (it was rather a relief to be able to say at least ONE true thing) "the last time I saw Spot he was taking a nap in the same room with Kaito-kun."

"Ah."

One of Kaito's doves landed on her wrist with a flourish of wings; it cooed approvingly at her, then leaned over and poked at the cellphone determinedly with a rose-pink beak. Peck, peck, peck... "Hakuba-kun? I've got to go-- I'm feeding his doves and they're getting a little out of hand--"

Peck, peck, peck-- "Right, right; he shouldn't make you do things like that since you're a guest, but I suppose he-- well, never mind. When will you be back at school? And Kuroba-kun too, of course?"  A crackle of static almost obscured the last few words, but the annoyance filtered through (as did more sniffles.)

"I don't honestly know. When this thing with my dad's cleared up, I guess." The Inspector's daughter wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead; her eyes lit up slightly as inspiration struck, and she added hastily, "…but I'll be picking up my homework from Keiko-kun; you know we have all the same classes together." There, that took care of that little incipient offer of help. "And as for Kaito-kun, when he stops throwing up, I guess."

A polite but noncommittal noise and another sneeze was all she received in answer; as Hakuba Sugaru expressed his best wishes for her and her father's (and Kaito's, rather grudgingly) best health and then hung up, Aoko considered the thought that he had sounded unnervingly suspicious. Maybe she was just being paranoid... or maybe not. She knew he had tried to catch the Phantom Thief, everyone did.

Kaito especially.

"Aaaargh!"

Stuffing her phone back into a pocket, the Inspector's daughter stood up so suddenly that the doves that had been gradually settling around her comforting human presence (they were used to their magician-slash-keeper, after all) exploded into a cloud of wings and white feathers. She slipped back through the door, shutting it forcefully behind her as if closing the lid of Pandora's box before anything ELSE could escape.

Kaito? When I see you again in a few hours, you had better really, really have a good story ready to tell… or we're both going to be sorry. And I don't know which of us will be the sorriest, you or me.

* * *

"Okay, let's go through 'em again..." murmured Kaito to himself, shifting painfully where he sat on the floor of Ayumi's room with his back against the wall beside her closet. The little girl had gotten a bit drowsy after lunch-- after all, she hadn't had much more sleep than he'd had-- and had finally agreed to settle down for a couch-type nap with Spot until Rita-kun showed back up with dinner. In the meantime, her teacher was taking inventory of his assets.

Twelve sonic grenades… Seven flashbomb-smoke combos, nine smoke-only types, two heat/light emitters... Hang on, didn't I have a half-dozen or so of-- oh yeah, there they are: Nakamori Specials. Wonder when I'll get the chance to test 'em out?  He fingered the small, black discs; they were something new that he and Jii had worked on together, tiny little mechanisms with remarkably powerful acoustic circuitry built into them, not to mention speakers. All he had to do was toss a smoke-grenade or something else equally confusing into a room, scatter a few of those around, pinch the neat little transmitter-button he had built to slip into the knot of his tie and start laughing...

...and his laughter would begin booming out at timed, three-second-overlapping intervals from every one of the 'Special' units. He'd fill a room full of cops with maddening, echoing noise and be out the nearest exit before Nakamori could even begin to foam at the mouth.

Can't imagine why they find my laugh so annoying but I'm not gonna complain, Kaito snickered to himself, fanning the discs out between the fingers of his good hand like coins in a magic trick. Okay now, back to business. What's left? Well, there's the card-gun of course… got a pretty fair chunk of ammo for that; good. Hmmm… three types of mini-explosives, the capsule kind... two containers of flashpowder, two-- no, three-- incendiary clips... ?? Now where did I put those sleep-grenades?  He was edgy enough that rest, at least for a little while, wasn't possible. What he was doing was the Kaitou Kid equivalent of playing solitaire or reading a magazine: just something to do to pass the time until Aoko came back.

Okay, that's the stock stuff. What about my newest little toy?  The thief picked up something he had been working on so recently that it hadn't even been tried, just like the Nakamori Specials; it didn't look like much, just a flat white oval of matte-finished metal with a depression in the top and an aperture at one end, smooth and simple in design. The other end was fitted with a small retractable lanyard for his wrist; it looked remarkably harmless. However, all it took was one quick pressure on the top to fire a tiny soluble dart out capable of inducing nearly instantaneous sleep. Kaito hefted it, grinning to himself as he aimed it at an imaginary target about three feet off the ground and mock-fired: Take that, Kudo! Kick pinecones at ME, will you? Nighty-night; bedtime for little Conan-kun...

Of course, he thought (stifling a yawn of his own), if he didn't get his butt in gear and OUT of Ayumi's bedroom as well as on with the business of healing up, he wasn't going to be using any of his gadgets any time soon. And then there was Aoko to think about and whether or not she was going to tell her father about her little discovery--

It was too much to think about; what with bullet-holes, assassins, budget-sized detectives, the Pandora Gem AND the rest of his explanation looming over his near future, it was enough to drive any Phantom Thief into gibbering mania. So Kaito, in his own mercurial way, was dealing with the entire massive pile of problems by ignoring them and concentrating on the present. Hence the inventory; there was no telling what he'd be doing after the rest of the explanation, so he might as well know what cards he had to play. And it was so much easier to win when you knew just what Aces you had hidden up your sleeve.

Wonder what Aoko'd think of all this? She saw me fish them out of my jacket, but I was taking 'em out in handfuls and I didn't empty my hat-compartments at all until she had left. Didn't want to alarm her, anyway; it's one thing to know about me being Kid, but it's something else entirely to see the things I use to baffle and trick her own father with. This is hard enough without that.

He sighed, slipping the little stun-gun into his pocket; as small and unobtrusive as it was (the ovoid was scarcely half the length of his palm), it was the best defense he had with him, short of his wits. And I sure as hell hope they're well-designed enough to get me through the rest of this evening, Kaito thought wryly, good humor fading. If they're not, then all I can really hope for is to contact Jii and ask Aoko to give me a day's head-start before she sets her dad on my trail.

Kaito scrabbled the fingers of his free hand through his hair, making it stand on end; every time his thoughts circled around to the Great Aoko Debate his head began to ache. She had to be going through a lot of confusion right now-- the Inspector's daughter had taken the morning's half of the explanation pretty calmly (for Aoko) but the matter wasn't settled yet, not by a long shot. No way, not even close; she still had to hear HIS part in the whole bizarre mess.

And won't that be fun to tell? he thought, staring unseeingly at a sonic grenade. So far I've kept everything nice and abstract-- history's a safe sort of subject, no matter how weird it gets. But tonight I'm gonna have to tell her about how I've been tricking her dad and giving him grief… and she's probably going to want my head on a platter. Or stuffed and mounted on a plaque, maybe; she could give it to Nakamori as a Christmas present-- he'd be freaking thrilled beyond words.

Attempting to shake off morbid visions of his own stunned face à la taxidermy, the young thief scooped his motley arsenal up somewhat awkwardly into his hat; small as the items were, there was no way he could fit them all into its compartments, so he settled for simply using the headgear as a container for everything except the card-gun. That he slipped into his free pants-pocket, making quite sure that the safety was on first. Some of the tension eased up as he sat back; for some reason he felt a lot better with a bit of armament handy. Maybe that little near face-to-face encounter with the Shrimp had shaken him up more than he'd realized.

Kaito yawned again, a really bone-rattling yawn that made the muscles in his shoulder twinge; his body kept trying to take over and drag him back down into sleep. Another little nap wouldn't be such a bad idea... Nothing to do, really, until Aoko came back anyway, was there? Easing himself carefully (and painfully, producing a number of muttered swearwords that would have impressed even Nakamori) down onto the carpet, he attempted to curl into something approaching a comfortable position.

Might as well rest while I have the chance... His father's monocle lay on the carpet beside his hat, like a charm one might use to ward away bad dreams. As his eyes lidded closed, Kaito's good hand slid around to the small inner pocket on the left side of his pants and the lump there. Without taking it out, his fingertips lightly traced the shape of the thing inside: a small pendent, nothing special really, unless you knew what you were looking at.

You've got one last chance to shine, Pandora; and then it's curtains for you. Not sure what Aoko'll make of you, but you're my best hope to get her to believe me. Funny… the thing that my father died for may also be the thing that'll keep my ass out of jail-- and if I'm really lucky (and she's really reasonable), it just may give me another chance, too, with Aoko. I think you'd like that, Oyaji; I really do.

The gem seemed oddly warm through the cloth; as Kaito relaxed at last and sank down into sleep, he caught the faintest scent of roses before drifting off.

* * *

It was a little while later when Spot came padding down the hall to Ayumi's room; the kitten paused in the doorway in the manner of cats throughout history, not quite in the room nor quite out of it. Blue feline eyes surveyed the sleeping thief coolly for a few moments; then the kitten stepped soundlessly forward, circling the figure that (for once, thought Spot) lay so quiet and relaxed.

Humans, in his opinion, needed to be taught how to take things easier. If they weren't so stressed out over so many things, they'd certainly be better company… and of course, they could then devote more of their time to important things like petting him or providing a good place for him to curl up. That little human-kitten on the couch, for instance-- she had been so twitchy with dreams that she had woken Spot up; decorum was not to be expected from something so obviously untrained, but still, a cat had his standards.

He surveyed the sleeping human somewhat critically; rivalry was all well and good until the supply of comfortable spots to curl up ran low. Spot didn't like the human, obviously; first off, he was another male, and secondly, he was courting Spot's person-- even a shut-eyed, week-old litter-runt could see that little fact, though he hadn't done anything really obvious about it. Apparently he was as slow as he was blind; couldn't he tell that Spot's person was interested and was waiting for him to make a move?

Humans; they were so weird. His mother had told him so, but had he listened? Oh well--

The kitten circled the somnolent form one more time, sniffing briefly at the bandages and wrinkling a cute pink nose at the smells of blood, cordite and antiseptic. It didn't look like the sleeper was planning on any unseemly movements; he was totally boneless, almost as artistically relaxed as a feline in his repose. So-- Stepping carefully, Spot made his way to fit into the curve of the young male's body, echoing the human's position as he lay down. The sleeping thief did not wake, but merely curled a little tighter, and the cat's whiskers twitched in satisfaction; fine. So the male was good for something, anyway; he made an acceptable backrest.

Moments later there was no other sound in the room besides two sets of breathing, deepening in sleep.

* * *

"NO, Tousan, I will NOT stay here," said Nakamori Aoko with what she was beginning to consider to be saint-like patience. "Look, you said yourself that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to stay with Kaito-kun-- he's sick, he needs someone around to make sure he doesn't flush himself down the toilet or something, and…" she made something of a show of looking around the Spartan room, "… I don't think I'd really be much of a help, do you? I'd just get in the way."

Her father glared; his mustache bristled irritably as he opened his mouth to refute what she had said… and then he abruptly closed it as the sense of her statement penetrated his skull. The safe-house he had been placed at wasn't much, just a bare room with a bed, a nightstand, one desk and a phone in a building that was currently masquerading as a down-at-the-heels hotel. From a couple of folding chairs, two other officers near the door eyed the ongoing argument with barely-concealed grins; the Inspector's daughter was a well-known sight around the station house, and watching her match tempers with her father was always a treat.

Especially when she won.

"Still think you ought to at least have an officer assigned," he grumbled, the bristling dying down a bit as he gave a snort that was by no means totally defeated. It was bad enough, he thought, that he was stuck here in such a dump without even a TV; he was damned if he was going to spend the whole damned time worrying about his daughter--

--who snorted in exasperation, exactly as he would have but an octave up. "Oh, RIGHT. That'd make me stand out like a sore thumb; I might as well paint "Cop's Daughter, Take Me Hostage" on my back and sell tickets for the chance to get me," she retorted sarcastically. At the further droop of her father's mustache Aoko's eyes softened a bit, and she shook her head, leaning against the end of the bed across from where he sat at the tiny desk. "It'll be fine, Tousan; I'll stay out of sight as much as possible and I promise I'll check in with you several times a day, okay?" She smiled a little, rather thinly. "Besides, if I stayed, where would you put me?"

She had a point. The bare little room hardly even had a bathroom, just a tiny closet with a commode and shower-hose. Behind Nakamori's back one of the officers by the door made a surreptitious point-mark in the air as his partner swallowed a grin. Aoko did her best to ignore the byplay, still smiling down at her father; she handed him the plastic bag she had been clutching as she straightened up. "Here; I was nice enough to bring your shoes and some more clothes to you instead of leaving them on the doorstep like I said I would. Now, you promise to be careful, please?" His daughter hesitated for a second, the anxious look in her eyes dimming the usual fire there. "I know you've been in awful situations before, but… don't take any chances, please, Tousan? Whoever those people were that shot at you, they--"

"I know, I know," he growled, angry and frustrated. He jerked his chin towards the two cops by the door; "You think those two'll let me do anything useful? Hell, no-- I'm just supposed to sit here on my thumbs and wait for some bright boy down at the stationhouse to decide it's safe for me to come back out--"

The two officers looked slightly sheepish. "Sorry sir," mumbled one; the other merely shrugged. They were stolid sorts, the kind that Nakamori's threats and thunderings were unlikely to budge; the Inspector's daughter viewed them with an approving eye.

"If he tries to leave, steal his shoes," she told them with a rather sharp grin that was startlingly like her father's. "And if THAT doesn't make him stay put, take his pants; that ought to do it." The two men blinked, then nodded slowly with appreciative gleams in their eyes as they glanced at each other; the guys down at the stationhouse would just love hearing about this later...

Nakamori groaned in annoyance; this time the sound had defeat in it. "Fine, fine; everybody's plotting against me. Next thing you know, that goddamned Kid'll be stopping by with donuts or something." His daughter flushed abruptly, her eyes dropping to the floor; Nakamori didn't notice as she rose to leave. "Aoko?" he said a little plaintively as she headed towards the door.

"Uhh-- what?" Now why was she looking so flustered, anyway?

"I, uh, know I was quitting smoking… but… with all this going on-- and those two over there both smoke--" Nakamori did his best to look pathetic and needy; it wasn't difficult, given the subject. He was out of nicotine gum, the patches were a thing of the past, and the other cops refused to let him have any of their cigarettes due to Not Wishing To Be Hit By Nakamori-keibu's Daughter's Mop, Sir, Sorry. "I, er, don't suppose I could get you to pick me up a couple of packs of--"

"No." She glared; he winced.

"Just ONE pack?" he wheedled; "Look, Aoko--" Goddamn it, I should've stuck with the frikkin' pipe!!  He had dropped it in favor of cigarettes a couple of months earlier.

"NO." And she turned to stare down at the seated cops. "And YOU two can't smoke either, not here in the room… or else ."

"Uhh-- yes'm." The two officers looked at each other nervously, not daring to question what the 'or else' was. You didn't ask that sort of thing of a Nakamori in case you found out; it was seldom pretty and almost always unique.

One of the officers rose to escort the Inspector's daughter out to her taxi; she frowned over her shoulder at her father. "Call me on my cell if you need anything, okay?" Her face softened at his rather despondent look, and she took a moment to rummage around in her backpack. "Here-- I brought you some things to read; they're old copies, you can throw them out when you're done. And I'll call you later tonight, okay, Tousan? STAY SAFE."

Grumble, grumble; Nakamori took the proffered stack of paperbacks without paying any attention to what they were. As the door closed behind his daughter and her escort's back, the Inspector slumped back into his desk-chair with a muttered curse at all assassins and Phantom Thieves alike. The other officer made a peculiar noise, a sort of muffled snort, and Nakamori glanced at him irritably. "What?"

"Uh, n-nothing, sir…" The man seemed to be struggling to hold back a laugh; the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force followed his eyes, his gaze dropping to the books his daughter had given him.

Oh no... He groaned as he read the titles: Tsuki Ni Hoero… Fruits Basket… Utena… Full Moon Wo Sagashite… InuYasha… Count Cain… Kimi Dake No Devil... "Shojo manga. Wonderful. My daughter hates me. @#$%&!!!" Nakamori slumped even further in his uncomfortable chair and tried to ignore the muffled sputterings of the other officer. He raised his head and glared a patented Death Glare at the man; "Listen: you tell ONE PERSON about this and I'll make your life a living hell, I promise you. Got that?"

The other man fought back a snicker that would have ended his career (if not his life) right there. "Perfectly, sir." There was silence in the room while Nakamori peered suspiciously at the volumes as if expecting them to bite him; after a moment he grunted.

"Tripe, pure tripe-- but there's nothing else to do. Pick one--" he held the books out to the other man, who flinched back; Nakamori glared at him, his expression rather evil. "Oh, go ahead… in fact," he added, showing all his teeth in a sharklike smile, "I insist ."

The man swallowed, gingerly accepting a copy of Full Moon Wo Sagashite. His partner was not going to like this...

In fact, when he returned to the room after escorting the Inspector's daughter to her taxi, he burst into guffaws of laughter at the sight of two seasoned officers with their noses stuck in volumes of Girl's Stories. However, his jocularity only lasted up until the point when Nakamori shoved the copy of Utena into his hands and snarled "Shut up and read, moron.”

* * *

Five o'clock came and went, along with Rita-kun, who brought with her bags of take-out and a treat for them both of chocolate ice-cream; Kaito remained curled up oblivious to everything on the little girl's bedroom floor, deeply asleep and unaware of Rita-kun's arrival and eventual departure. As the young woman scooped her books into her backpack, she glanced down the hall inquisitively towards her charge's closed bedroom door. "Ayumi-chan? Are you ever going to show me that magic trick? You were practicing it earlier in your room--"

The child swallowed a hasty bite of noodles, eyes growing wide in alarm. "Uhhh-not yet; I still need more practice." She wiped at her mouth and looked imploringly up at the American; "Don't open my door yet, okay? Please?"

The teenager shrugged, an indulgent smile crossing her face as she hefted her backpack. "Okay, but I expect to be astounded and mystified or I get my money back, right?" She picked up her purse as the little girl giggled. "I'll be back at about nine-thirty, okay? Keep the door locked, don't let anybody in, and call me right away if there's any problem-- okay?" She paused by the door, looking slightly guilty. "I don't really feel too happy about leaving you all alone like this… but I told your mom about my study group at the library and she said it would be all right; are you sure you don't mind, Ayumi-chan? You could come with me--"

Ayumi shook her head firmly, still clutching her chopsticks; she slid down from her chair and stood on tiptoe to put her bowl in the sink. "Uh uh; I'll be okay--- and besides, I've got homework to do for school too."

"You could bring it with you and do it at the library along with us--" wheedled the young woman; she chuckled. "That way you could make sure we behave; older students are terribly noisy, you know. The librarian yells at us all the time." She unlocked the door, waiting in the doorway for the child to make up her mind.

The gradeschooler bit her lip, then shook her head again. At any other time she would have jumped at the chance-- she loved going to the library with its countless shelves of books on every subject imaginable, especially since she had gotten interested in magic tricks (there were books there on the subject that she couldn't even read yet!), but not tonight. Not with her friend and teacher asleep on her rug, all curled up with Spot... Oh; that reminded her of something-- "Noooo; that's okay. I'll be fine. But, um, Rita-kun? Do you know if my mom left her camera or took it with her?"

The young woman blinked, stepping out into the hallway. "I-- oh, right; yes, she left it on the counter by the phone. Guess she decided at the last minute not to take it with her. Why? Do you want me to take a picture of you later on, when you perform your trick for me?"

Ayumi's eyes lit up gleefully at the excuse (and a really good idea, too.) "Bingo!"

*

Ten minutes later, after Rita-kun had gone on her way...

**FLASH!**

Click-whirrrrr ... zzsshhhhhk.

Ayumi tiptoed out of her room, closing the door behind her and peering at the still-dark Kodak photo as it slowly developed. Her kaasan used the old camera for her work, but she didn't think that she'd mind Ayumi using just one shot...

...and didn't Hei-san look cuuute, all curled up around Spot like that? It really was a good picture; he had his top-hat and that eyeglass thing (what did he call it? a monocle?) sitting in front of him as well, and his sleeping face could be seen quite clearly. The gradeschooler giggled to herself and then headed down the hall to put the camera away, clutching what was probably the world's most incriminating photo in one small hand.

* * *

"Conan-kun?" Rin's voice carried clearly as she leaned out of the front window of her father's office; it was nearly dark, and the boy fiddling with his skateboard on the sidewalk below squinted against the setting sun's rays as he looked up. "Where are you going?"

He hesitated before answering, and Rin frowned down at him; she knew that slightly shifty-eyed look, both from his time as Shinichi and as Conan-- it was one thing that definitely had not altered in the least. "You're going somewhere I'd be unhappy to find out about, to do something I wouldn't want you to do, right?" she answered herself somewhat fatalistically. "Fine; I'll be right down."

"Uhh-- but--!" He was talking to a closing window; with a sigh, Edogawa Conan resigned himself to waiting, wondering all the while just when Rin/Ran had become so stubborn.

Oh well…

It wasn't a long wait; she was still shrugging a light jacket on over her jeans and t-shirt as she pattered down the stairs. "So where are we going?" she asked, fixing him with a Look that he recognized from any number of instances when he had tried to pull one over on her as Conan or Shinichi. "And don't think you're going to leave me behind-- remember the LAST time you slipped off without me to check something out?"

He winced, dropping the skateboard to the sidewalk. "I kind of doubt I'll run into a maniac who wants to shut me up in a file cabinet this time," he muttered, but a rueful grin made his lips twitch as she put her hands on her hips and gave him a warning glare. Rin looked awfully cute when she got mad; he couldn't help but smile reluctantly as the young girl/woman shook her head at his obtuseness.

She stuck her tongue out at him, annoyance forgotten as he laughed back. Really, they weren't fooling anybody...

"So where are we going?" She climbed onto the skateboard behind him, clutching him gingerly around the waist; Conan braced himself, folding his own hands over hers for security (well, it made a good excuse, anyway.) As the turbines beneath the board started she squeaked slightly and held on tighter.

"Surveillance" was all he answered as they took off in a rattle of wheels and pavement.

A little later the skateboard slowed to a halt through the lengthening shadows. "-and my dad is STILL trying to be overprotective; it's kind of funny, in a way," finished Rin, letting go of Conan's waist a little reluctantly; her face was a bit pink but her eyes sparkled from enjoyment of the ride. It was one of the things she actively loved about becoming child-sized again: riding on the skateboard; Rin was still trying to talk Professor Agasa into trying some sort of powered rollerblades, a concept which made Conan flinch and Agasa hurriedly change the subject when she brought it up. "You'd think he wouldn't keep forgetting just who I really am, but even when I beat him this afternoon at cards he kept scowling and saying it was dumb luck-- that no 'little kid' could beat his game." She rolled her eyes, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her small frame against the cool evening wind. "I had to beat him twice more before he'd take that back, and he should know better; I've always been luckier than him at cards."

Conan gave her a sympathetic look as they walked on, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Just wait 'til you see how MY mom reacts; did I tell you she and dad'll be coming for a visit next month? Dad finally turned in that Night Baron draft he was working on, and I think he's trying to hide from his publishers for a few weeks before they start bugging him for the first rewrite…" He started down the block, keeping in the shadows. "What were you playing, anyway? Poker? Heh; thought so... He really should have known better. But... I wouldn't remind him too often; why would you want to give up that advantage? You know he tries to cheat-- badly, but still--"

Rin pushed her windblown hair back out of her face with a rueful look that anyone familiar with Mouri Ran would have recognized. "At least your mom isn't buying you cute little outfits with fuzzy-animal motifs on them; I never thought Mom'd go so-- so SOPPY on me! I don't remember her being like that when I was small the first time around."

As they rounded a corner, Conan chuckled. "Maybe she needs another kid," he suggested whimsically; beside him, Rin blanched, made a horrified 'Eeep!' and he danced sideways as she mock-kicked at him. "Hey! Just joking, just joking-- your dad would have a heart attack if that happened--"

"--and so would I," she said darkly. "One child in the family's enough right now, thanks very much."

He snorted in agreement, then caught her hand up and pulled her over to a small wall beside a very tall apartment building. "Boost me up, will you? I'll pull you up from the top--"

Doubtfully Rin made a stirrup of her hands; one eyebrow went up as she regarded the apartment building. "I-- why are we staking out Ayumi's building? Is there something I should know?"

He grunted slightly as he hoisted one short leg over the stucco retaining wall, straddling the top and reaching a hand down to help her up. "Tell you in a minute; we need to get out of sight first--"

Settling in as comfortably as possible among the ornamental bushes on the other side of the raised embankment, the diminutive detective kept a sharp eye on the building's front entrance as he explained. "You remember that little talk I had with a certain Phantom Thief in the park the other day, the one where he swore he'd keep Ayumi-kun out of his, err, activities? Apparently he had a change of plans..."

Swiftly he explained what he had suspected, seen, and concluded; as he talked, part of him noted clinically that Rin's/Ran's-breathing was speeding up, that her face was darkening, and that she was starting to get the same sort of look in her eyes that she had had just prior to beating the crap out of that murderer they had run across back when she lost her memory. A small, gleeful part of him decided that if they ended up confronting Kid he would turn Ran loose on him; the thief wouldn't stand a chance, so long as he stayed within kick or punch-range, as Rin-kun tended to be just a wee tiny bit protective of Ayumi.

(And now she was muttering some things under her breath that he would never have suspected her of picking up from her father... That was his Ran, all right; calm, practical, and ready to turn anybody who threatened her friends into karate-chopped sushi in a heartbeat. Go Ran! he cheered privately, fighting to keep his face straight.) "… Anyway, if Kid comes out, I want to follow him; I got a decent look at his face in the park, so I should be able to recognize him. And THIS time," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the entranceway, "we're not under any kind of truce; we're outside the park. All bets are off."

"Good," said the small girl beside him fiercely, her eyes angry. There was a determined jut to her chin that spoke volumes to Conan/Shinichi, warning him that any attempt to divert her from her course would NOT be well received. He was just lucky this time that she wasn't after him.

So they settled down to wait.

The street lights had been on for no more than a quarter-hour when a young woman a bit older their own prior-Apotoxin age showed up, arriving in a taxi. She was a fairly slight person with thick, unruly dark hair, wearing a somewhat harried expression along with her jeans, backpack and sweatshirt-- nobody unusual, she might have lived anywhere in the building. What WAS unusual was the way that she walked straight to the visitor's buzzer, pushed the button… and was answered quite clearly by one Yushida Ayumi in apartment number B1073...

So he has an accomplice. Not too surprising-- if he's hurt, he'll need help getting wherever he's going.  Conan's eyes narrowed as he watched the young woman enter the building; she looked relatively harmless… but then, so did Rin. And so did he, for that matter, but any number of people in prison could tell you otherwise.

Beside him Rin's soft voice whispered, "She's visiting Ayumi? Why? Do you know her-- is she that girl who's looking after Ayumi 'til her parents get back?"

He scowled for a moment, mind working furiously as it sorted through Ayumi-kun's file in his mental database. "No, she's not Rita-kun; I've met her a couple of times before. I don't know this girl… but…" For some reason the young woman's face evoked a dim, faint memory, one associated with… mistaken identity? and rain, and Sonoko, of all people? He tried to grasp it, but it was like attempting to catch smoke. Damn.

Rin was watching her too; there was a peculiar look on her face, a highly puzzled look… she seemed to be trying to remember something as well. "I... she looks sort of-- familiar?"

"Really? Think: where from? She has to be somebody we both saw… with Sonoko, maybe?" Conan's voice was low and a little sharp as he watched the young woman close the heavy glass lobby-doors behind her. "School? A store somewhere, or in a crowd?"

She bit her lip, indecision fighting its way across her face. "I don't-- I really don't know. She just... I've seen her before, that's all." Frustrated, Conan sat back among the shrubbery; she brushed his cheek with her fingertips, looking apologetic and a little downcast. "Sorry…"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter; if she's an accomplice, we'll figure out who she is sooner or later." Conan's glasses flashed in the dim illumination of the streetlights and building security-lights as he looked back at the girl beside him. "You do realize that we may know who Kid is before the night's over, don't you?" At Rin's widened eyes he smiled a distinctly predatory smile that looked very Shinichi-ish on his young face, turning towards the building again.

The girl shivered a little, hugging her knees to her chest. "That girl, though... I wonder who she is? A partner, a relative-- a girlfriend, maybe?" She followed his gaze, her head lifting as she stared up towards Ayumi's balcony high, high above.

One of Conan's eyebrows went up as he turned his head to look back at her, a speculative look in the dark blue eyes behind his glasses. "Kind of hard to imagine the Phantom Thief having a girlfriend, but he does have a sort of cheering section of female fans..." At Rin's annoyed snort, he snickered. "Well, he does, though I've no idea why. Why would anybody cheer on a thief?"

At that she smiled rather wryly, a woman's smile on a little-girl face that understood only too well why people would applaud an extraordinary, very confident young man, no matter what he was doing. "Everybody likes a show, and he's awfully good at that sort of thing, isn't he? He's famous, he does outrageous things with a lot of flashiness and… well, he outwits people and-- oh, don't look like that; I know, I know, he outwitted YOU too."

A disgruntled mutter that ended in "...should've put that pinecone upside his head--" was his reply; Rin rolled her eyes and continued. "Oh well; nothing to do but wait for them to come out now. Hope they're not too long--"

Grumble, grumble; Conan-kun tended to hold grudges.

Rin eyed him, a spark of mischief in her smile as it widened. "Just think about arresting him; that ought to make you feel better," she suggested. Then her smile faded and she hugged her knees a little tighter. "Ayumi-kun, though..."

"I know." His voice was very quiet.

"Why would she hide him? I know he's her friend, but aren't WE her friends too? I thought she trusted us--"

Conan stared up at the building before them, looking frustrated. "She does, but…" He was silent then, shaking his head.

The girl beside him sighed, leaning back against a bush; a leaf drifted down to perch on top of her head like a kitsune's charm. "I guess we'll have to figure that part out when we come to it; in the meantime, I know what we can do while we wait--" she murmured, dimpling with the same Ran-look that he had known most of his life. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she pulled out a small, oblong packet from her jacket-pocket and fanned its contents out, smiling innocently at him. "Care for a game of Poker?"

From behind Conan's eyes Kudo Shinichi snorted with laughter, accepting the deck. "Only if I deal," he answered firmly, beginning to shuffle.

Chapter Text

"Shhh---" cautioned Ayumi with a finger to her lips as she let Aoko in, closing the door very quietly behind them; "Hei-san's asleep."

As Aoko gently slid her backpack off, she paused; one eyebrow went up in annoyance, but she followed quietly as the little girl tiptoed down the hall to push her bedroom door open. It was a good thing she did, too, because the sight that lay before her made it worth her while.

Kaito lay curled up on the carpet in the dimly-lit room, his head pillowed on his good arm; his breathing was slow and even in sleep, causing one untidy lock of hair to flutter where it fell in front of his nose. Aoko slowly knelt beside him, brushing the shaggy strands back; his forehead was rather warm but the skin beneath her fingers felt smooth and dry, not damp with fever.

Those absurdly long eyelashes of his-- really, it was unfair how they threw spiky shadows across his cheekbones, unfair how they defined the shape of his eyes even in sleep. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Aoko drew one finger down from his forehead and traced it along Kaito's jawline, tangling for a moment in another lock of hair; he did not stir.

"Doesn't he look cute? Should we wake him up?" stage-whispered the child behind her.

"No." She stood, moving back towards the door; "Let him sleep a little longer-- we can wait for a bit.  Ayumi-kun? I washed your rug and towels and things; let's go get them from my backpack, okay?"

"Hmmm? Oh, okay." The little girl peered over the young woman's shoulder, then looked around the room. "I wonder where Spot-chan is? He was taking a nap with Hei-san a little while ago..."

As she closed the door quietly behind her, Aoko snorted softly. "I wish I could have seen that." The cat in question mewed imperatively from under the couch in the living room, making Ayumi go bounding in to scoop him up for a hug; Spot endured this with a grunt before squirming to get down, and the child smiled up at her guest, one hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind her usual hairband.

"I can show you-- I took a picture.  Want to see?" From her pocket she pulled out a slightly creased photo, offering it eagerly. "Look, he's all curled up with your kitten…"

Aoko DID look, and her eyes grew wide.  A more damning picture would have been hard to take, given the circumstances; Let's see, there's the hat and the monocle, white pants, the butt of his card-gun sticking out of one pocket...  My father'd just LOVE to see this.  "Ayumi-kun?" she asked quietly, a leaden weight settling in the pit of her stomach, "Can I keep this? Please?"  The child considered for a second, then nodded and the Inspector's daughter slipped it into her jeans pocket, feeling as if the photo was glowing right through the fabric.

Two thoughts were warring in her mind; 'I should give this to Tousan kept banging against 'Kaito needs to destroy this', causing her head to hurt all over again. She realized uneasily that the explanation she was going to hear (and she WAS going to hear it; if Kaito didn't wake up soon, she'd just have to take matters into her own hands) was probably not going to make anything easier.

Maybe she had better start things without Ayumi being there; if Kaito had anything to tell her that would upset the child... "Ayumi? I'm going to let him sleep for about fifteen more minutes and then wake him up; in the meantime, why don't you show me those magic tricks you said he taught you?" She smiled encouragingly down at the little girl, who practically bounced in place with delight.

"Okay!... um, can I practice for a few minutes first?"

A moment later, Aoko was easing open the bedroom door again; from the living room a muttered litany of "This card goes on the bottom, and then THIS one goes here… no, it's the other way around, I think..." kept time to her footsteps as she crossed the carpet and knelt back beside the sleeping thief again.

The name 'Kaito' was actually on her lips, she had actually drawn breath to speak… when she paused for a second and really took a good look at him.

How had she missed the ways that he had changed over the last year or so? Had he always looked like this, all lean and strong even bandaged up and sleeping? Kaito had shed the tattered remnants of his shirt by now, and the light from the hallway gave his skin a faint sheen as if he had been gilded. Long, smooth muscles ran beneath the skin of his shoulders, and as his chest rose and fell with breath Aoko's eyes lingered on the strength evident in his good arm, in the grace of his sleeping form.

It's just normal, physical attraction, she told herself firmly, resisting the temptation to stroke his shoulder with a fingertip and see if his skin was as smooth as she remembered it to be. So you're just noticing that Kaito's a good-looking guy; so what? He's still Kaito. And you're not JUST noticing it now-- you've been thinking about that sort of thing for a while, and I'll bet lots of other girls at school have noticed, too.  If that was supposed to be a comforting thought, she decided that she was missing the point somewhere. She didn't LIKE the notion that other women had been looking at her friend, at her Kaito.

'MY Kaito'? Did I really just think that? I did, didn't I?  Aoko blushed but did not turn away; instead, her gaze traveled along the planes of his face, following the sweep of jawbone down into his strong neck and the chest that had broadened out so over the last year. It's not exactly a new thought either, not at all.  It wasn't unwelcome, either; in fact, the idea of Kaito getting attached to someone else was so-- so alien in a weird sort of way as to be far more unsettling. It just didn't seem natural, not at all.

I think I'd hit him with something harder than a mop. And then... I don't know what I'd do then. Join a Buddhist convent or something.

Kaito sighed in his sleep, turning just a bit more onto his back; a wince ran across his familiar face as he did so, and Aoko held her breath. But he didn't wake up; for a moment his brows drew down in what looked like pain, but then the sharply-defined features relaxed again and the young woman watching him slowly exhaled. She was breathing in the same rhythm; was that a deliberate thing on her part, or had her body simply adapted to what made it the most content? Maybe she should listen to herself more often.

He looked so tired. And that lock of hair was still in his eyes. Gently Aoko reached down and flicked it aside, wondering if she should wake him up after all.

And then he shifted again, stirring so slightly that if she had not been watching his every breath she would not have noticed; and his eyes slowly opened as he looked straight at her.

Dark blue eyes, familiar eyes, Kaito's eyes; eyes she had known for so long and had seen so many, many times that she knew their color far better than she knew her own. And they crinkled, smiling up at her, glad to see her as he awoke.

"…mmphgl... Aoko…?" He yawned, the yawn turning into a stretch; the stretch turned into an "OWowww--!" as he used muscles that would have preferred not to be used, and involuntarily he grimaced in pain. "…Fell asleep, didn't I?"  He rubbed his eyes, still lying down. "What time is it?"

She remained kneeling by his side, wondering if her face was still pink. Probably; but the room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the hall-lighting and the dim glow coming in from the balcony. Of course, a Phantom Thief would almost certainly be quite good at seeing in the dark, wouldn't he?

Never mind. Sometimes I think too much.  "I don't know-- maybe a bit after six or so. How do you feel?"

Kaito stretched (and winced) again, but remained lying on the floor rather than getting up. "Not too bad, I guess. Aoko?"

"What?"

"Why were you just sitting here in the dark, staring at me?"

Oh; now she WAS blushing. The Inspector's daughter could feel the heat in her face, and tried to cover it up with a mask of her usual irritability. "Baka-- I wasn't staring at you, I was waiting for you to wake up." She snorted in affront; "I've got better things to do than just sit here looking at you..." Aoko's voice trailed off as he smiled at her, not his usual grin but a slower kind of smile that made something inside her flutter just a bit. She glared, trying to cover that up as well. "What?"

The smile widened. "Oooookay, you haven't been sitting here staring at me-- so I'll lie here and stare at you."  It was hard to tell in the shadowy room if Kaito was blushing or not, and anyway Aoko was too busy trying to keep from looking too stupid (what with her jaw dropping and all.) For once she was speechless, and the thief beside her took advantage of the silence as he continued on blithely. "Besides, I don't know how long I'll be seeing anybody without looking through prison bars, do I? So I'd better do my looking now."

His smile tipped past the mark into the familiar grin, but that flutter inside Aoko didn't seem to have noticed. "Do you really think I'm going to tell my tousan?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

Kaito yawned again. "I don't know.  Are you?" His voice was as casual as always, but she could hear the tension behind the words.  "Y'should, you know; he's a cop, you're a cop's daughter-- it's the main reason I never told you anything about this."  Slowly he pushed himself up with his good arm to a sitting position; "I didn't want you to have to choose--"

"Choose?"

Sadness in the dark blue eyes, just for a second before he turned to look away towards the balcony; it put his face in profile. "Between loyalties. Between me and your father. Y'see… I always figured that I'd come out second, and that was how it ought to be, really; I know that what I do is illegal and immoral and all that. But making the choice-- that'd hurt you, and I didn't want you to have to hurt. So I didn't tell you, and you didn't know, and you didn't have to choose, and you didn't have to hurt. And I-- maybe I wouldn't have to hurt as much as I figured I would if you did." Kaito sighed; the small sound carried something so heavy with it that it made Aoko's heart ache. But when he turned back towards her, there was a crooked little smile on his lips. "How's the saying go? 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it'?"

Oh. So that was why.

Irrationally the whole idea of his trying to keep her ignorant for her own sake made her angry; Aoko told herself fiercely that the pricking in her eyes came from fury, not tears. "Kaito, you-- you moron! I can choose for myself, you know-- what right do you have to make up my mind for me?!?" She was leaning forward now, close enough to see her reflection in his startled eyes. "I make my OWN decisions, nobody else! And who said I had to choose anybody, anyway, baka? I could just keep my mouth shut if I wanted to--"

"--Aoko, you couldn't keep your mouth shut if somebody used a wall-stapler on it," he interrupted, laughing but beginning to get angry himself. "And anyway, you know you'll choose your dad's side, he's your dad; why wouldn't you?" A faint note of pain was strung through that sentence like a piece of thin wire; but Kaito continued on as if it hadn't been there, sitting up a little straighter. "If you had half a brain you'd--"

"If I had half a brain I'd be using it to HIT YOU OVER THE HEAD with!" she snapped, leaning even further forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Ooooooh, he drives me CRAZY sometimes!! "You are without a doubt the most idiotic, asinine, reckless piece of--"

Now he was snapping back; his face was filled with an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance. "--like you can talk, Aoko? Who came charging over here this morning without even wondering if it'd get you into trouble?  If you had just left well enough alone last night instead of sticking your nose in where it doesn't--"

"Don't tell ME where to stick my--"

"You're ALWAYS getting into other people's--"

And Kaito lost his balance as he leaned even further forward, falling over with a yelp to land with his good hand against Aoko's shoulder. They both froze; face to startled face, scarcely more than a hand's length apart, their breaths mingled together; the Inspector's daughter swallowed, her widened eyes staring straight into Kaito's. Suddenly anger became transmitted into another, entirely different impulse, one that she had thought about any number of times lately but never had courage enough to act upon, not quite...

But…

…there was no time like the present... and all she had to do was lean forward, just a little bit...

"Why don't you kiss him?"

The small voice was cheerful, highly interested-and coming from directly behind Aoko's head (rather than from inside it like she had thought at first.) She yelped involuntarily and fell over backwards herself, Kaito tumbling forward to sprawl with a curse half into her lap as Ayumi looked on curiously from her bedroom doorway. She surveyed the two, a little puzzled but willing enough to cheer them on. "That's what people on TV do when they get that close together--"

They both backpedaled rather frantically, both figuratively and literally; Kaito sort of rolled sideways out of Aoko's lap as she scrambled to her feet. Ayumi flicked on the overhead light; the temperature in the room seemed suddenly to be a bit too warm for both adults concerned as they sputtered simultaneously:

"Um-- we were just-- we-- I mean--"

"H-heh, uh, 'Yumi-chan, we weren't--"

The child shook her head, hands on hips; "Hei-san, most people yell at each other and then they kiss and make up," she informed him rather loftily, explaining The Facts Of Life As Seen By Yoshida Ayumi. "That's what my Kaasan and Tousan do, anyway. You two just yelled at each other again, so why don't you--?"

"Umm..."

"Errrr..."

Ayumi rolled her eyes, apparently giving up on her friends as total idiots. "Never mind; you can figure it out later. Aoko-san, would you like something to drink?" The young woman nodded dumbly. "Okay-- Hei-san, I've got some ramen for you, so I'll heat it up in the microwave and be right back in a minute. Then you can change clothes and eat, and THEN you can tell us the rest of the stuff about you being Kaitou Kid, 'cause we've been waiting ALL DAY LONG." With that the little girl headed back down the hall, having organized the world to her satisfaction.

For a long moment the two studied their toes; Aoko was still quite red-faced, while Kaito seemed to have a noticeable twitch at the corner of his mouth. After several remarkably stretched-out seconds had passed, they both spoke up at about the same time:

"Um… I'm sorry--"

The simultaneous apology brought both heads up, Kaito's from where he sat cross-legged on the carpet and Aoko's from where she stood before him. Two pairs of eyes met, looked away-- and then looked back; this time they remained rather shyly in eye-contact, each smiling just a little.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," said the young woman quietly; a reluctant tremor of laughter flickered through the words as she continued, "but you always know which buttons to push to get me mad. You always have…"

He half-grinned a little ruefully, ducking his head a bit. "Yeah, well, I shouldn't have lost my temper so fast." Kaito scratched his head, looking embarrassed (but not entirely unhappy with the turn that the conversation had taken.) "I'm sorry too." Rummaging sounds and the electronic bip!bip! of a microwave announced that Ayumi had things under control in the kitchen; Kaito's eyes strayed towards the doorway and he chuckled. "'You can figure it out later'... She's really something, isn't she? 'Ayumi the Astounding'--"

Aoko laughed back, and the sound seemed to clear the awkwardness from the air; the things that weren't being said (like 'Were you really going to kiss me?', for instance) were maybe a little louder than before, but neither minded. And the silence that followed was a lot more comfortable than it had been too; as Kaito sat back against the carpet and dropped his gaze with a sigh, Aoko's own eyes lingered a bit wistfully on his bowed head.

Her thoughts were chaotic. I can't believe I almost--

--but--

--this would be an awful time for that sort of thing, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?

--it would, but--

--maybe later--

--yes, I really did just think that. She swallowed, feeling her pulse beating in her throat. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, and neither was the memory of Kaito falling against her. Aoko wondered silently where her common sense had gone, and then decided that, all of a sudden, she really just didn't care; she had better things to worry about.

*

Wow. That was… interesting. Never thought Aoko would do something-- or ALMOST do something-- like THAT, not for a minute. She always surprises me, always; and I'm a tough guy to surprise. Must get it from her dad. Sure glad he wasn't here, or somebody'd be having a funeral-- me, probably. Why am I thinking about her dad? Would much rather think about how she looked just then, just before Ayumi walked in... Whoooooooboy... Still sitting cross-legged on the carpet, Kaito kept his head a little bowed as a slow, silly grin crept across his face. Something in between his brain and his stomach seemed to be doing flipflops; maybe it was his heart. Or his hormones, possibly. Both? Now's not the time, though, so snap out of it, Kuroba.

But maybe later...

Wow.

* * *

A little later...

With a certain amount of moaning and groaning as well as any number of bitten-off swearwords, Kaito had been assisted into a clean change of clothes. That is, he had been helped to his feet and a red-faced Aoko had turned her back on him after ushering Ayumi out of the room while he changed; modesty or not, if he started to fall over she planned on being there to grab his arm. Kaito had thanked her with great dignity and then commented that if she were planning on sneaking a peek he'd appreciate a warning first so that he could present his better side for viewing.

At that point Ayumi offered to find Aoko a mop; the young woman declined and asked Kaito rather sarcastically why she'd want to peek at his backside anyway...

One pair of jeans, some clean underwear and a sweatshirt made the world a much nicer place, as far as Kaito was concerned (the sweatshirt had required surgery, the removal of an entire sleeve and several safety-pins but it worked, and a jacket thrown over his shoulders would hide the damage.) Noodles were eaten, broth was slurped, and Ayumi had just handed over a round of mugs containing her favorite hot-milk-and-honey plus a saucer for Spot, which he polished off quickly before settling down with a distinctly covetous eye towards Kaito's share. Aoko had been rather quiet while Ayumi chattered on, talking about the movie she had seen earlier, about her friends, about the tricks that she would show Aoko-san later on. The little girl seemed to sense the tension and shyness between her two adult guests, even if she wasn't certain about the source; once, looking up at Aoko, she had leaned over and whispered, "Hei-san was being a baka earlier, wasn't he? I think he's nervous."

Aoko had stifled a laugh; she had to agree. The young thief was stretching out his dinner of leftovers as long as possible, paying great attention to each bite; he glanced up, caught her eye and looked slightly chagrined: busted.

You could only take so long to eat ramen, though, and at last Kaito sat back with a sigh; he ran his good hand through his hair, a preoccupied look in his usually cheerful eyes. "Okay…. How in the world do I begin? This is gonna be a little hard to explain--" He shot a look at his audience; three pairs of eyes (two human and one feline) were fixed on him unwinkingly, and the thief hesitated for a moment. "I don't suppose you'd prefer to see a magic trick instead, would you?" he asked hopefully; "Aoko?... No, huh? 'Yumi-chan, save me, please?… no; guess not." He sighed, moving the tray with its empty ramen bowl from his lap and sitting it on the floor. "No sympathy for a wounded man, is there--? Okay, okay!!" Kaito mock-defended his face as Aoko's fists clenched.

From behind his raised hand he peered at her, and for just one bare second there was no humor at all in the dark blue eyes as he added, "Just remember: You asked for this..."

And I hope you can understand, Aoko; God, how I hope you can understand... Kaito felt his stomach knot with nerves; how many times, he asked himself, had he dreamed of telling the young woman opposite him what he was going to tell her tonight? Granted, the setting in his fantasies had NOT usually included gunshot wounds or a little girl's bedroom, but still…

I've wanted her to know; not telling Aoko's been like-- like cheating myself. Like stealing from both of us. He swallowed hard.

Okay, on with the show. Think of it as a different kind of heist, then-- instead of her trust, you're here to steal her MIStrust away and destroy it, just like the Pandora Gem. Ayumi's not a problem, but Aoko... Hell of a hard trick to play; she's gonna have to do half the work herself.  Collecting his thoughts, he swallowed hard and then plunged into explaining how Kuroba Kaito had become Kaitou Kid.

"Y'see, it was like this... All those years ago, when my dad died?  I never knew that he'd been murdered-- yeah, I know what we were all told, Aoko.  And I never liked the explanation I'd been given, but when you're a kid you don't have much choice about that sort of thing-- the grownups all said he'd died in an accident, and that was that. So-- time passed, and I grew older, and then one day this guy in a white suit started showing up in the news--"

It was the first time he had ever admired an actual modern-day criminal, for any reason; it was easy to fanboy out over infamous tricksters/magicians from the past like Nezumi Kozo or the Black Rose, but this was different-- this Phantom Thief that baffled and evaded the police did so with such aplomb and flair that you couldn't help but pay attention. And the fact that he was using what were obviously magic tricks only made the whole thing more interesting-- how could Kaito help but be fascinated?  They weren't THAT elaborate, but they were being used with very good effect and showmanship… and Kaito, with his father's training and the reinforcement of an unknown heritage behind him, appreciated good showmanship right down to the marrow of his bones.

"Aoko?  Do you remember, I even made a sort of card-gun like his? 'Course, it just shot regular playing cards, not the ones I use now--"

"That reminds me…" The young woman pulled her backpack over to her and rummaged in it for a moment, pulling out a small rubber-banded stack of somethings. "I, um, found these when I was getting your clothes for you."

Kaito accepted what looked like an ordinary deck of cards, if a bit thicker than most; only the most careful inspection would reveal the thin layer of aluminum sandwiched inside each one.  His eyebrows rose as a thought occurred to him; he was normally very careful about leaving any traces of his 'night job' around in case the worst should happen and his house should end up being searched, but- "Aoko?" he asked carefully; "Just WHERE did you find these?"

She was blushing a little, though obviously trying to keep her face straight. "In your underwear drawer," she muttered, then glared at him as he sputtered indignantly. "Well, you asked me to pick up some clothes for you, didn't you?"

He fought back his own flush of embarrassment. "Yeah, guess I did." And then he grinned again, a very Kaito-ish grin with an added twist of mischief behind it. "At least now you know whether I wear boxers or briefs-- and you didn't even have to flip MY skirt to find out!"

"Kaito!"

Once more the young thief ducked a mock (or not-so-mock) swing. Ayumi looked extremely puzzled; "Boxers? Briefs?  And Hei-san, when do you wear a skirt?  I've never seen you in one.  Why would you--?" Kaito's apprentice petted Spot, who was rather smugly curled up in her lap.

Both Aoko and the young magician blinked at her.  "Disguises,” he said promptly, and then laughed. “But that's-- um, complicated, and let's leave it for later.  Anyway," Kaito said hastily, diving back into the relative safety of Explaining, "I got interested in what was going on, partly because he was doing magic tricks and partly…" He hesitated, glancing aside somewhat shiftily, "partly because I could see how he did everything. It was so easy; it was almost as though I had it built into me, being able to figure out strategies and deceptions and subterfuge..." A strange look composed of a mixture of bafflement and what could almost be pride flickered across his face.  "When I read the newspaper reports, it was like I was reading extra stuff that nobody else could see-- or like somebody was whispering in my ear, telling me exactly how the tricks were done." He shifted uneasily, wincing as his shoulder and side twinged. "It bothered me just a bit, when I thought about it. But then I--"

--Then he had gone home one day and stopped in the hall to look at his father's portrait. And all it had taken was his hand in the right place and just the right push, and Kuroba Kaito had fallen forward-- out of his old life and into his new one, whether he liked it or not.  Later on, the biggest problem of all had been that he HAD liked it, liked it in a way that seemed to spring from a level so deep and personal that sometimes Kaito seemed to be the false persona and the Kaitou the real one.  That balanced out eventually but oh...

It had been so very, very easy to fall...

"When I saw all that stuff in the hidden room-- and Aoko, you just wouldn't believe it; there's a freaking CAR in there!-- I started to understand things from when I was a kid. My oyaji... Y'know, every kid with a good dad thinks he can do anything, but mine could do anything-- unlock any door, climb onto the roof without a ladder, make doves and rabbits and whatever pop out of nowhere, disappear without a trace, know what you were thinking before you said or did it... My oyaji was magic. He really could do anything." A trace of pain crept into Kaito's voice, which had grown very soft. "And-- he was a thief. I'm not an idiot; on the other side of that portrait is another one, of Kaitou Kid, wearing the same outfit that I found hanging in a closet in that room, the same cloak I found there too... and he had left me a recording; even though the stupid tape broke before I could hear everything on it, what I heard was enough to make me understand a little."  He was silent for a second.  “Enough.”

"And you didn't tell me."  Her voice was low; he started slightly, glancing up and then away as though her quiet gaze hurt him.

"I couldn't-- the next heist was that night, and I had to be there--"  There was a strange abstraction in Kaito's eyes that stopped Aoko's retort on her lips; he looked almost haunted.  "When I realized that, it was so weird...  I didn't even THINK about what I did; I just got dressed in Oyaji's old suit and cape, in his top-hat and monocle.  I put on the whole outfit like I had been doing it all my life, like it had been waiting for me."  He gave a short laugh, one with an edge to it. "I guess it had."

He had watched his hands in the mirror, tying the tie; had watched himself slip on his father's shoes. He had watched himself click the cape into place, holster the card-gun that was so much heavier and more businesslike than the little toy he had built for himself; he had watched himself slip on the ghostly white gloves.  And all the while, as he fixed the monocle into place and loaded his pockets down with this and that from the boxes of smoke-bombs and other paraphernalia, he had been running on automatic because the whole damned routine was so familiar that he hadn't had to think about what he was doing at all.  It hadn't been until he was settling the hang-glider rig into place on his shoulders that the unreality of what he was doing caught up with him-- and by then it was far too late.  Dead men's shoes, once filled, do not come off.

And it had been so very, very easy to fly.

"Jii nearly had conniptions when he saw me; he thought I was Oyaji.  When he realized who I really was he nearly left-- he didn't want to tell me the truth. But by then I was pretty sure..."

At that point Kaito looked up, straight into Aoko's face, and she was startled by what she saw in his eyes: Pain, raw and unadulterated.  Just pain, and a remote kind of loneliness that she had never seen there before, not even when his father had died.  "Aoko, I don't even know how to tell you how that felt, asking Jii to tell me the truth: Was my dad Kaitou Kid?  And then hearing him say 'Yes'..."  The sound he made next had to be a laugh, because there wasn't really anything else it could be.  "He was a good man; but he was a thief.  He loved me, and he stole for a living.  How do you handle that sort of realization?"

The Inspector's daughter was silent; beside her, Ayumi watched them both, her brow furrowed.

"When he said that...when he told me..." Kaito's voice had grown thick; he stopped for a moment, swallowed, and continued on.

"When he told me the truth, it was like… have you ever seen a gyroscope?"  Ayumi opened her mouth, but Kaito cut her question off with a gesture.  "It's this little spinning thing, 'Yumi-chan; you can do tricks with it, balance several of 'em on top of each other like tops, juggle them, make 'em walk across a tightrope-- the point is, though, that a gyroscope can flip over or turn and suddenly be spinning in a totally different way than before without falling down or stopping; it's balanced, but it adapts.  That's what it felt like: like somebody turned me inside out and set me going again, like I was the same but different.  Really different-- different purpose, different identity… different life.  I felt it, that change...  There's always been this little bit inside me, this little part that--” (Kaito hesitated) “—that sees the world in a way that maybe some people would think of as, as crazy.  But then, it just... got focused, got... to be more a part of me, not separate anymore, more the way I saw everything.  Not crazy; just a different kind of sane.  After all--" and he made that sound again, the not-laugh, "--after all, how many people have a legend just waiting for them to step into and take over?"

Ayumi spoke up then, her small voice a little unsure; she hugged the kitten in her lap for reassurance.  "Were you scared?"

Kaito sighed. "I didn't have time to be scared, 'Yumi; I made up my mind right then, up on that rooftop... and that was that.  So, no... not scared; just determined.  And y'know, thinking about it, I can't even really say that I 'made up my mind'-- it was more like, like there wasn't anything else I COULD choose.  Even though it hurt… what else could I do but stand with my oyaji?"

And he gave Aoko a rather hollow smile.  "Just like you will, I guess." She said nothing, but stared back at him with a measured, steady gaze.

"And after that… after that I started looking for targets-- things I could steal.  Not for money, not for keeps, but to make Oyaji's murderers think he was still here, that they'd failed to kill him."  He laughed, and the laughter this time was more genuine than before. "I had the damnedest time at first, making myself even think about taking other people's property, but I knew I was gonna give it back-- and besides, once I actually got into the heists it was like it was second nature, like... like flying; I still don't really understand why that was so easy to do right from the start, but the glider was... right for me.  Second nature, again.  And as for the heists, it's a funny thing, but you get really focused when you're going after a prize, you know?" Kaito chuckled, the sound turning into a cough.  He cleared his throat and continued.

"The whole idea was to draw those bast-- uh, sorry, 'Yumi-chan-- those guys out that killed my dad.  Remember what I said this morning, about Oyaji being hired to find the Pandora Gem?  I figured that as soon as they saw Kaitou Kid back in business they'd come running; well, it took a little longer than just a few heists..."

He had loved it. He had LOVED it, right from the start, hardcore, even when he came home exhausted and bruised or worse; there had been other gunshots, though they'd never taken him down. The night-time surveillance trips, the casing of this location or that, the disguises and props and gadgets-- Kaito had taken to the whole unbelievable lifestyle like a duck to water, like an artist to his paints. He had always been happiest performing and fooling the public eye but this-- oh, this made everything he had done before look like water beside wine, and the wine went straight to his head and made him drunk with a curious kind of joy.  Pitting your wits against the world is a very addictive drug; pitting your wits and WINNING--

--well, nothing came close. Nothing at all... except, sometimes, the hastily-smothered thought of telling a certain friend of his about the whole confused, wonderful, horrible, unbelievable thing.  Except that he couldn't, because her dad was doing his best to lock him in a jail-cell and throw away the key. He just couldn't.

But oh, how he wanted to.

And in the meantime the heists went on, becoming progressively more intricate, more engrossing, more addictive; he became more and more kaitou without becoming any less Kaito.  And his father's shoes fit him better with every step he took into the world of the Phantom Thief.

Kaito gave Aoko a lopsided sort of smile; he tucked his good hand into his pocket, toying unconsciously with something inside it. "So now you know why I kept falling asleep in class; half of my nights were spent down in my dad's old room, and a lot of the time I had left was used for checking out new targets."

"--'Targets.' You mean things to steal."  Her sharp voice did not give an inch; beside her, Ayumi looked distressed.  Even Spot glanced up briefly before settling back to wash a fluffy white paw.  "Didn't it ever bother you that you were taking other people's stuff?"

The young thief facing her scowled; he fished the whatever-it-was that he had been fiddling with out of his pocket, clasping it lightly in his palm; it glittered a bit before his fingers closed over it. "Sure it did-- but I gave 'em back, every time but once… and that time it was a baseball, and it went where it should have gone in the first place: to the rightful owner.  Give me a freakin' break, Aoko!  You know my mom, you knew my dad-- they taught me right from wrong, just like you were taught when you were a kid."  His chin came up defiantly.  "I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it was what I had to do.  I wanted to find Oyaji's killers, and if the only way to do it was to be a criminal, then full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes!" He coughed again, draining his cup of milk; Ayumi reached across (unsettling Spot, who jumped down with a cat-curse) and took the empty cup.  Her small face was a little confused and she looked like she wanted to ask a question; Kaito quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "What's up, 'Yumi-chan?"

"If… what you do is bad," she asked slowly, staring at the carpet, "does that make you a bad guy?"

Silence hung in the room.

At last Kaito reached out and gently tipped Ayumi's chin up with one finger, meeting her gaze with his. "I don't know," he answered quietly; Aoko looked on, listening.  "When you grow up you're supposed to be able to figure out all the answers, but I just don't know, Ayumi.  The only thing I can tell you is this: What I'm doing has a good reason behind it.  If I can draw out my oyaji's killers and get them caught, it… well, it won't make the things I've done go away, but even if I go to jail someday it'll be worth it.  Oyaji should never have died, and those black-hearted bastards-- sorry again-- monsters shouldn't get away with his murder.  Or anyone else's."

She seemed to cheer up a little at this. "You can swear if it makes you feel better, you know," she told him earnestly; "My tousan swears when he gets mad."

His mouth twitched despite the somberness in his eyes. "Thanks, but I'll try not to." He shrugged a one-shouldered shrug, grimacing impatiently against the pain of the movement. "That's something else that comes with growing up, y'know: you find out that sometimes you have to let bad things happen to you to make good things happen later. It's sort of like getting a shot; you have to go through somebody sticking a needle in your arm so's you won't get sick later. Me, I've made myself into the sort of person who really should be arrested so that somebody a lot worse than me can pay for what they did; maybe that does make me into one of the bad guys, but not as bad as they are. Besides," he said, and his eyes darkened even more, "Oyaji wasn't the only person they got; the more I learn about them, the more rotten they seem to be."  He shifted, suddenly and painfully.  “They-- like fires.”

Through all of this, Aoko sat silent and very still. Once more Kaito's gaze flickered up to her face and then away, almost in pain.  He drew a deep, somewhat shaky breath; "'Yumi-chan? You got any more of that milk stuff?"  The child nodded, piling all three empty cups on her teacher's lunch-tray and scrambling away out the door; her light footsteps diminished as they moved towards the kitchen.

The silence between the two still seated on the bedroom floor stretched as if time had become elastic, wrapping them around in an embrace. Kaito picked at the bandages around his ribs, still looking away. "Kaito?" asked the girl softly, not moving; "Why won't you look at me?"

For a moment it seemed that he would not reply; when he did, his voice was so low that she had to strain to hear it.  "...Because... I don't want to see your face when you choose your father," was the almost inaudible reply.  "I know you will, you know you will, and it's the right thing to do-- but it's the wrong thing for me.  I HAVE to keep on doing what I'm doing... and so do you."  Kaito's fist tightened around the small, glittering thing in his hand as if he could shatter it between his fingers.  "I'm not martyr material, Aoko; I won't lie to you about that-- I've been lying to you long enough.  If-- when you tell your dad, I'll run; Jii'll help."  He drew a deep, almost ragged breath, and something else glittered on the back of his hand, something that had fallen there a second before.  “And I'll keep on doing what I have to do; it'll just...be harder.  Hell of a situation, isn't it? Hell of a world..." The last few words were breathed more than spoken, but they hung in the air as if they had been shouted.

Most of the time he had enjoyed what he was doing, so much that (quite appropriately) it should have been illegal.  It was fun-- intellectually, physically and emotionally; when he was on a job his muscles and skills were stretched and honed and his mind and heart rode a roller-coaster that ran the gamut from terror to delight.  It allowed him to release the slightly-worrying streak of crazy that lived deep inside him in ways that were, to put it mildly, perfectly in keeping with the person he'd allowed himself to become.  It provided an outlet for the hate that seethed inside like a living thing whenever he remembered that his father had died in pain, and it did it in a way that did not eat Kaito alive.  Also, It was fun outwitting Nakamori; he viewed the Inspector with a mischievous, affectionate respect and more than once had to stop himself from saying the wrong thing the next day when in his 'civilian' persona.  It wouldn't do for the Keibu to get nudged in the ribs and teased about that slip onto his ass that he'd made the night before while chasing the Phantom Thief, especially if said Thief was the only one who knew about it...

But no matter how much fun the whole dangerous, exciting, insane role of Kid was, Kaito never quite forgot just why he was doing what he did.  After all, every time he walked into his father's old workroom he passed through not only a reminder of Kaitou Kid, infamous Phantom Thief, but also of the man behind the legend, the man who had loved him and taught him how to laugh, how to see life through a magician's eyes.

When Ayumi came back into the room, she could have cut the heavy stillness there with a spoon, much less a knife; it was that thick. Kaito had scooted back a little until he could rest against the wall beside the closet, his knees drawn up and his arm resting across them.  There was a strained, rather bleak air about him that sat oddly on his usually cheerful features; it made Ayumi stop in her tracks, look at him carefully, place the tray that she was carrying on her bedside table and duck back out into the bathroom. Moments later she returned, holding out a bottle of painkillers with a troubled expression to her friend. "Hei-san?"

He looked up, accepting them with a look of gratitude that probably owed as much to the break in his train of thought as to the prospect of relieving his aches.  "Thanks, 'Yumi-chan; you're a godsend, you know that?"

She handed around the mugs of warmed milk, placing another saucer on the floor for Spot.  "I wish… I wish I could make you feel better inside too, Hei-san; aspirin doesn't help there, does it?"  She sat down then, this time right beside him; unconsciously she mirrored his pose, drawing her knees up and resting her elbows there.  Her voice was small and fierce, the sadness still there but beginning to be overcome with anger at the things her friend and teacher had had to go through.

Ayumi may have only been eight years old, but she knew right from wrong-- and good from evil, too, courtesy of her friend Conan-kun; most children simply didn't have the background to understand such concepts, but she wasn't most children and had seen far, far more than the norm.  She wasn't stupid, and she was beginning to recognize that sometimes good was a much more difficult thing to make happen than right.

Not that she cared, or even worried about it; what Yoshida Ayumi understood at that moment was that she was on Hei-san's side, and that was enough.  Case closed, end of story; Ayumi was like that.

She took a big swallow of her milk; her eyes were stormy. "If I could," she muttered, "I'd make those men that killed your tousan pay for it; I'd make them go to jail and-and break up rocks or something FOREVER.  Or whatever they make people in jail do.  I'd put them where they couldn't hurt anybody else ever, ever again… and I'd make them sorry."  She sniffed a little, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.

"So would I.  That's what I'm trying to do, you know." His voice was very gentle.  "My dad taught me when I was just a tad younger than you about keeping up a good Poker Face-- you remember, 'Yumi-chan?  I mentioned it a couple of weeks ago when I was teaching you to-- uh..."  His voice trailed off as he glanced up somewhat guiltily at Aoko, but she said nothing; the young woman simply sat quietly, staring into the depths of her mug as if looking for oracles there.

"--when you taught me how to play Poker; I remember."  The child cocked her head a little sideways as she looked up at him.  "Why?"

He barely smiled. "Well, that's part of it, sort of-- when I'm Kid, I'm playing my cards; when I'm Kaito, I'm wearing my Poker Face.  And someday, if I just keep playing… I may win the game."

"And is that what I see every day?  Just your Poker Face?"  For the first time in a little while Aoko spoke, her voice so low that he could hardly hear it.  She still stared down into her cup, but the hurt in her words was unmistakable.  "Who gets to see your true face, Kaito?  Or did you just put that away and-- and put on a mask of lies instead when you decided to be a thief?"  Her voice thickened, full of anger and what sounded like grief.  "When I told my dad the next day that somebody had called me the night before and warned me, I told him that I didn't know who had called; was that the truth, Kaito?  Was it?!? "  The last few words were flung at him with all the pain of betrayal behind them.

Something rattled on the floor as Kaito dropped it abruptly.

Before she realized what was happening, Aoko found that she had been caught by one shoulder in a grip so tight that it would later leave finger-sized bruises.  Kaito had leaned forward in a pose startlingly reminiscent of his earlier position-- but the look in his eyes, that was different though no less emotional.  "I swear to you, Aoko," he ground out between his teeth, "I swear to you that I've lied to you as little as possible, you of all people.  Hell, you've probably seen more of the truth lying right under your nose than anybody else, including my kaasan!  Yeah, I haven't told you what was really happening when it had anything to do with Kid, but I've always been as-- as much ME with you as possible."  His breath was coming short and fast as if he had been running; she held hers, staring back into his eyes.

Those eyes held so much; anger, pain, and not much humor at all now (not now, not like this.)  And as he released her shoulder and sat back, Nakamori Aoko watched numbly, her thoughts in turmoil.  "Really?" she whispered.  "And-- has it all been worth it, Kaito?  Look at you--" and she gestured at his wounded side and shoulder.  "You've been evading the police and running across rooftops and God knows what for more than a year now. What has it gotten you?"

"This," the thief said softly.  He scooped up the something that he had dropped a moment before and held it out on his palm like an offering, glancing at the glass doors of the balcony.  "'Yumi-chan?  Could you turn off the light, please?"  The little girl (who had huddled wide-eyed and mute for the last moment or two beside him) scrambled to her feet, understanding dawning as she flicked off the switch.

Aoko blinked at the sudden gloom.  "What--?" And then: "Oh. Ohhhh--"

It still wasn't very late as yet, but Autumn moonrise in Tokyo comes fairly early in the evening, and they were high enough that the soft, silver rays were scarcely blocked by any buildings at all.  Radiance spilled from Kaito's cupped palm as he lifted it high enough to intersect the moon's rays, radiance from the stone-and-metal firefly he held; it reflected from the eyes of three human beings and one feline one, from the monocle that lay on the floor, from the faint wet trails on three of the faces.  If a peacock's feathers could have been set ablaze without their being consumed they would have shone so; if all the sorrows and hopes in the world could have been gathered up and polished and set in silver, they would have glowed so.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the Pandora Gem," said Kuroba Kaito quietly; his eyes were fixed on the thing he held as if making sure that it couldn't get away. Hesitantly Aoko put out a hand; he nodded.  "Go ahead, it won't hurt you.  It's not hot; it just looks like it ought to be."

Slowly she took the glittering ember from him, her fingertips almost flinching back from the electric pulse of light; green, red and a curious golden tinge dyed her face in kaleidoscope patterns as she turned it this way and that wonderingly.  "This… is what they killed your father for? This?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"  She turned it over, absentmindedly rubbing at a small brown smear on one thumb. "Who, Kaito?"

He swallowed, watching her hands. "I don't know yet-- not exactly; I won't know 'til I catch them; a name or two, that's all.  But they've been after me for a while now, and I plan on making damned sure they understand that I've finally found what we've both been looking for."  He hesitated, setting his jaw grimly.  "When I can, that is..."

Ayumi reached for the stone.  "Can I see it?  Please?"  She had been itching to hold it again ever since the first moment that the light had bloomed between Kaito's fingers the night before. "Pleeeeease?" A little warily Aoko handed it over, and the child held it up between her eyes and the glow of the moon.  "It's so pretty…. and it's warm.  And…" she blinked, one eyebrow going up in an expression she had clearly borrowed from her teacher, "… it smells like roses?"

Kaito shook his head.  "Yeah, I smelled that earlier, but I think that's coming from your bushes out on the balcony; whoever heard of a stone that smells good?  As for it being warm, I have been holding it for a while--"

A white, fluffy paw well-equipped with extraordinarily long claws suddenly reached up from Ayumi's lap and batted at the Gem; the child yelped, raising it higher.  "Spot-chan! This isn't a kitty-toy!"  The feline ignored her protests and swatted at it again, resulting in a shallow scratch across the child's wrist.  "OW! Spot-chan, behave!"  The Kitten From Hell made an impatient sort of noise and ducked under her arm, bolting for the space beneath the bed as Ayumi nearly dropped the pendant.

Carefully Kaito took it back; he stared down at it with a strange little smile, then placed it squarely on the floor between them a few inches from his cup.  "So I finally got what I've been looking for; time to keep my promise, the one I made to myself when I first found out what this whole mess was really about."  He tugged the card-gun from his pocket, checking the safety and then turning it around and gripping it by the broad barrel.  "Aoko? Ayumi? I want you both to watch-- I want somebody to see this happen with me..."

And with that, he raised the gun high in his good hand; his eyes glittered fiercely--

--and he brought it down butt-first, directly onto the Pandora Gem as hard as he possibly could.

**WHAAAM!!!**

Bits of gemstone flew across the room, showering everything and everyone--

**tinkle-tinkle-clatterclatter-ploop!!**

--and there was silence.

* * *

Far away, across the city in a darkened room, a man raised his head in sudden shock; light glinted off his copper-colored eyes.

Halfway across the East Sea a woman on a luxury liner blinked, caught her breath and gripped the railing so tightly that her knuckles went white, while several others standing beside her caught their breath in an echo which flickered all the way around the globe.

Grouped here and there across Japan and throughout the world, a number of people with hard, secretive faces looked up as a cold wind blew softly through what passed for their souls.

And not too many kilometers away, a black-trenchcoated man standing quietly in the shadows of an alley with a good view of the Kuroba house suddenly shuddered hard as if someone had walked across his grave...

* * *

Spot popped his flat white head from beneath Ayumi's bed, surveying the scatter of interesting glassy bits that now covered the room with feline approval; good-- somebody wanted to play! He reached out a paw and dabbed it at a large piece; it seemed to be a sort of shell, not very thick and as green as his mother's eyes. A prodding claw made it slide enticingly, so he prodded it again, glancing slyly at the humans in the room to see who would play back.

They weren't doing much, were they?  Not even HIS Person, who simply sat as still as if someone had grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. She was staring at the other male in the room, the one who had so amply provided a backrest earlier; maybe he felt like playing?  But no, if anything the male looked even limper than the other two.  He had been excitingly lively before, all full of energy and emotion despite the wounds that Spot could smell; in fact, the kitten had actually found him quite interesting (if perhaps a bit noisy.)  And he had turned his courting up a notch, too, which Spot didn't entirely approve of but which was probably inevitable. After all, Spot had chosen an EXCELLENT female as his Person, hadn't he?  The feline twitched his whiskers as he peered up at the girl again; for a human she really wasn't bad.

His whiskers twitched a second time, accompanied by his pink nose as he sniffed at his green plaything; how very peculiar.  It smelled like something sweet, something tasty... come to think of it, so did something else in the room.  Abandoning the idea (temporarily at least) of play, the Kitten From Hell fixed sharp blue eyes on a small cup most of the way across the room and waited for his chance to come.

*

There.  There.  I did it, I actually DID it...  Oyaji, wherever you are, did you see?  Did you??  I DID IT!!  Kaito rubbed at his eyes with his good hand; they seemed to be stinging. I destroyed it at last, just like I said I would.

Then he looked up, directly at Aoko; the girl was white-faced, staring at the spot in the carpet where the Pandora Gem had been moments before. Now all that was left was a somewhat-damaged antique silver setting, a room-wide scattering of bits of gemstone, and a dent in the butt of his card-gun.  I really did it.  Finally, finally, finally...  His eyes weren't stinging anymore, mostly because of the two silent tears that had slipped out and run down his cheeks.  Well, fine; he didn't give a damn if he was seen by Hakuba, Nakamori and the entire staff of Tokyo's Finest-- it didn't matter in the least, because it was freaking DONE.

Kuroba Kaito picked up his cup of milk and drank deeply; it tasted wonderful, and he blinked a little dazedly at Aoko as he gestured with the cup at her.  "Wanna toast the end of an era, Aoko?  You just saw me keep my promise-- and now NOBODY'S gonna spill any more blood over the Pandora Gem, ever again."  He actually laughed, maybe a little hysterically; "You always said I was as stubborn as a pig, didn't you?  Well, let's hear it for pigs!  Especially ones that fly..."

The corner of her mouth twitched despite her apparent shock. "You're babbling, Kaito. Anyway, I can't make a toast, I already drank all mine."

"So?  Here!"  He passed her the cup; there was still about half of it left. The young woman gravely accepted it, raised the cup and nodded in his direction before she drank.  "'Yumi-chan?  You too!"  Kaito's eyes were suspiciously overbright as he took the near-empty cup and passed it to the child.

I did it, Oyaji.  I kept my promise.  It's done; not over, not yet, not by a LONG shot-- but the Gem's gone forever.

*

Ayumi was still a little dismayed by what she had just seen done; true, she had realized what Hei-san was up to when he'd placed the Gem on the floor, but still... it had been so pretty.  But she accepted the cup, lifted it high (just like she had seen in those American James Bond movies) and said importantly "To Hei-san!" before drinking.  It tasted really good, too; she'd have to make some more before she went to bed. "So now what?" she inquired, setting the cup down; it rattled slightly as it was placed on the carpet beside her.

"Uhh?"

"NOW what?" she repeated, feeling a bit tired.  It really had been an awfully long, long day...  From the corner of her eye the child saw Spot creeping out from under her bed; the feline made his way across the room via a wandering trail behind her bedside table and across the doorway, finally taking his place beside her.  He sniffed at the near-empty cup, his whiskers fanned forward in interest.

Hei-san seemed to be having a hard time with the idea of "Now What" for some reason; he looked like somebody had just hit him in the back of the head with a board. And Aoko-san looked almost as silly; the young woman was yawning, her pretty face looking almost stupefied with drowsiness. Grownups, decided Ayumi, should take naps; they'd probably feel a lot better if they did. It was catching, too; seeing Aoko-san yawn made her yawn as well.

"I--" (yawn) "I'll think about that tomorrow..." said Hei-san, still smiling (though it was a very funny-looking smile. And she had seen his tears only a couple of minutes before.) "Tired-- really, really tired all of a sudden. S'funny; had lots of energy a little while ago. Aoko? Gotta ask you something, though--"

The young woman blinked at him with somewhat sleepy eyes. "Mmmm?  What?"

"You-- ARE gonna tell your dad... aren't you?"

THAT seemed to wake her up; she sat up straight, looking intently at Hei-san and taking a deep breath before replying. Hei-san seemed to be holding HIS breath as he listened; and his Poker Face had slammed down into place like a mask despite his sudden yawns.

"Yes. I am going to tell my dad, Kaito..."

Hei-san seemed to slump a little into himself, almost losing his Poker Face; "I knew you would; I knew it.  You have to, you're his daughter--" he half-whispered, closing his eyes.

"...when you're finished."

"…w-what?!?"

Her eyebrows went up.  "You heard me; yes, I'll tell him-- but not until you've done what you need to do."  She yawned again, reaching down to pick up one of the glittering bits of gemstone lying about.  In the dim, unlit room it sparkled but did not glow, reflecting back the moon's rays like a piece of ordinary green glass.  "Sooner or later you're going to have to explain all this to him," she said conversationally, only the faintest quiver of nerves in her voice.  "--And that's going to be pretty awful; I don't know what he'll do or say.  But until then, until you finish what you've started..." and she looked up at Hei-san with the most peculiar expression in her eyes, "until then-- I won't tell.  But don't try to push me out of this; my father's involved as well now, so you're going to let me help.  After all," Aoko added softly, "I knew your dad too.  And-- and he was a good man."

A pause then, filled with a truly amazing amount of silence.

What occurred next was something that took Ayumi a few years and a few traumas of her own to understand, but she highly approved of it when it happened anyway.

*

She's not going to…. Instead, she's going to… Aoko's gonna…  He couldn't seem to take it in.  As Aoko finished what she had been saying, Kaito shook his head dazedly (why the hell was he so goddamned woozy all of a sudden?) and tried to understand that somehow, in some way, the Inspector's daughter was managing to choose both her father AND him.  It didn't seem possible; but Aoko was pretty damned impossible herself, wasn't she?

"Really?" he heard his own voice ask, very small and sort of wondering.

"Yes, really, you baka," she answered back, a strange little sparkle in her eyes.  She seemed to be considering something...

Kaito was dizzy-either from relief or the odd wave of sleepiness that was suddenly sweeping through him, he didn't know- maybe he was just hyperventilating. "Aoko," he whispered, "I could kiss you for this..."

And he could almost swear he heard her smile.

"Really?" she asked in a voice that was absolutely full of something very, very-- and then his eyes shot WIDE open as two hands caught him none-too-gently on his good shoulder and behind his head and pulled him forward into what was undoubtedly a kiss.

"Mmph? MMPH!!..."

After the first split-second of shock, Kaito did his best to cooperate.  And somewhere in the foggy unimportance that everything else in the world had suddenly become he heard a little girl's voice say, "Now THAT'S how they do it on TV!" in tones of distinct satisfaction.

...But Aoko's hands were holding him tightly and Aoko's lips were on his and she was awfully warm against his body and very soft; the world had just become an extremely physical place and that was just fine with him.  This, uh-- can't believe this is AOKO... glad it's Aoko...

It occurred to Kaito briefly as the kiss went on to the point where they had to pull back just a bit to catch their breaths that maybe this had been just a touch clumsy (it wasn't like either of them had had any chances to practice, what with one thing and another); so maybe they had better try again a few times until they got it right, right?

Right. And Aoko didn't seem to have a problem with that idea either ( When did she get so--?  Not that I'm complaining (!) but I always thought she was SHY about this sort of thing… Not shy... I wish I had two good hands right now...)  From somewhere Kaito heard a giggle--

--and then he was sitting bolt-upright, pressed against the wall with his fingers still tangled in Aoko's hair and feeling heat run through his body in the same way a person usually felt chills, only this felt really GOOD.  She was nearly knee-to-knee with him, so close he could hear her rapid breathing; and the curve of her smile made him swallow hard and take a few deep breaths of his own.

“...Aoko?  That was really very, um..." he heard his voice saying over the thundering of his pulse, from somewhere rather far off.  Once more he heard Ayumi's giggle and he wondered if they had just corrupted a minor. Somehow he didn't think so.

Ooookay; calm down, Thief Boy-- it was just a kiss, right?  Just a kiss, that's all, and you're in front of an eight-year old so that's all it's gonna BE, too, so just… settle.  Good advice, if only his heart and hormones would listen, which just wasn't happening.  Ooooh… if kissing Aoko's like this, then...?  STOP speculating.  That'll only lead to trouble you don't need and can't handle just now.

But still... Kaito felt what was undeniably a goofy smile spreading across his face.  Whoever said that "A kiss is just a kiss" was never kissed by Aoko.  Yeehah.

The young woman who now sat herself down crosslegged beside him was still Nakamori Aoko, still the same old mop-wielding Amazon whom he had known and skirt-flipped most of his life-- everything that she had ever been was still there. It was just that, staring straight at her right now in mingled shock and gratitude, Kaito wondered just where his brains had been not to notice all the REST of Aoko-- that is, besides the obvious (and she had an awfully nice obvious, didn't she?)  For one thing, she was a damned good kisser for somebody so inexperienced.  Must be natural aptitude, he mused giddily, wondering if his ears were as red as they felt.  He wouldn't be surprised at this point if you could rub them together and start a fire…

And I guess I didn't do too badly either, did I? I sure as hell did my best!  Inside his head he high-fived himself in purely masculine glee.  Way to go, Kaito!  A face-cracking yawn suddenly caught him by surprise; why was he so damned sleepy, anyway?  Aoko was too, and even Ayumi; the little girl looked ready to drop off--

--and speaking of dropping off... Kaito turned his head as he felt something heavy come to rest against his shoulder; Aoko had slumped over sideways, her eyes drifting closed.  "Just a little nap," she murmured; "We need to get t'your house, but just a little nap first..."

"Mmmm," he agreed, allowing his own eyes to droop shut.  It wasn't like he could help it; they felt like somebody had weighted them with sandbags.  "Just a little nap-- and then we gotta go, 'kay, Aoko?"

"Mmph..."

Somewhere in the back of the thief's mind a tiny voice was wondering about the sudden onset of drowsiness; it was almost like being drugged… but… he was too sleepy to care; and besides, they had a little while before they had to leave, didn't they?  And Aoko's not gonna turn me in right away, and she's… and she kissed me... Take THAT, Hakuba, you English twit... (yawwwwwwn)  S'okay to take just a little tiny nap, 'Yumi-chan'll watch over us.  Aoko… she feels so warm... feels good; yeah, comfortable like this.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwn--

The last thing Kaito was aware of before sleep drew him and Aoko both down into its embrace was a dim view of Spot, finishing off the dregs of milk in his cup. And then everything was blotted out by insistent blackness, enveloping and irresistible.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzz**

They slept.

*

Yoshida Ayumi fought back a yawn so wide and overpowering that it made her face ache; the gradeschooler climbed slowly to her feet.  She felt funny-a bit like she did when she took cold medicine or like that time the dentist gave her sleeping-gas, all fuzzy-headed and ready to curl up into a little ball of sleep.  And Hei-san was sleeping, and so was Aoko-san, and even Spot had just climbed into his owner's lap and settled himself in for a snooze...

But Rita-kun would be home in about an hour, so she heaved herself from the depths of drowsiness and reached over to shake her teacher by his good arm. "Hei-san? Hei-san, wake up!" No response; she shook him harder. "Hei-san? Um, Kaito?  Kaito?  PLEASE wake up!  Hei-san?!?"

STILL no response; he simply slid a little further over, leaning heavily against the young woman beside him.  Exasperated, Ayumi tried the same treatment with Aoko-san; still nothing!  "You've GOTTA wake up," she muttered, peering worriedly at them both; maybe if she got some water and--  A trip to the bathroom for her toothbrush-glass had Ayumi carefully splashing cold water into both adults' faces, but all they did was mutter irritably and sort of push her away without actually waking up.  The child bit her lip as she knelt before them, wondering what to do; it didn't help that she was awfully sleepy too and getting more so all the time--  What in the world was she going to do?  She couldn't keep Rita-kun out of her room forever...

Think! ThinkThinkThink... think like Conan-kun or like Rin-kun, and think like Hei-san too!  Detectives find things and magicians hide them; Conan-kun says that the best way to find something is to look for stuff that stands out of the ordinary, but Hei-san says that the best hiding place is right in plain sight.

So I've got to find a way to hide them without moving them-- they're too big and they won't wake up.  What plain-sight-looking thing can I do or make that'll hide them?  I wish I could just drape a blanket over them, but--

THAT'S IT!  The girl bounced to her feet, charging down the hall towards the laundry-room and stifling another huge yawn as she went.

* * *

"Ayumi-chan? (atchoo!!) I'm (sniffle) home..."  The Yoshida's apartment door closed behind the young American girl as she slid her backpack off; it was just past nine-thirty, and her cold had descended upon Rita-kun with all fours, claws out.

**cough, cough, hack, bleagh, sniffle**

"Ayumi?"  With a silent groan the congested student headed down the hallway, looking for her charge.  "Ayumi-chan?  Ohh--"  The child lay curled up like a dark-haired puppy on the carpet beside a contraption that stretched most of the length of her room, composed of several chairs, sheets, two blankets and the fold-up clothes-drying rack that normally lived in the laundry room. Rita-kun smiled despite her stuffy head; she had seen this before a few times-- it was an Ayumi-Fort.  The child tended to build them when she was bored, and all adults were Strictly Forbidden To Trespass for fear of Ayumi-chan's wrath.  She usually holed up inside them with her favorite books or toys, spending hours amusing herself; Rita-kun had been informed by the Yoshidas that Ayumi-Forts were allowed within reason (which meant that she couldn't fill up her entire room or extend the construction out into the hall.)

Awwwww... The young woman gently woke the child up, or attempted to; only sleepy mumbles and near-complete limpness were the result.  The kid must have really worn herself out today-- oh well, good; the way I feel right now, the LAST thing I want to do is to have to keep her busy.  Bedtime for Ayumi-chan, and then bed-time for Rita too. Couch-time, anyway…  The little girl was like a rag-doll; it was easy enough to get her out of her everyday stuff and into a loose nightgown without really waking her up. "C'mon, Ayumi-chan, upsy-daisy and into bed we go--"

The gradeschooler let loose an ear-to-ear yawn that must have nearly dislocated her jaw as she burrowed down among her sheets and blankets.  "Oyasumi… Rita-kun…."

The American chuckled, suppressing a sneeze by turning it into a series of sniffles.  "Oyasumi, 'Yumi-chan. Sweet dreams, kid."  She turned off all the room's lights, leaving it lit only by the rays of the moon and the city-glow filtering in through the balcony.

But as she began to close the bedroom door, she paused as her young charge muttered another sleepy goodnight; apparently Ayumi was dreaming that somebody else was in the room. 'Hei-san and Aoko-san?'  Wonder who they are?  Must be some of those little friends of hers...

Oh well, never mind.

Rita-kun sniffled her way down the hall, off to her date with a large dose of cold-medicine, a box of tissues, and some very deep sleep in the embrace of the Yoshida's comfortable couch.  Behind her, the moon's light glittered on bits of something shining on the carpet; the moon, though, said nothing, keeping her secrets to herself.

Chapter Text

Kuroba Kaito was dreaming-- that is, he thought he was Kuroba Kaito. Or maybe he was the Kid; sometimes it was hard to tell.

He seemed to be standing somewhere dark: the high banks of a narrow, deep little stream, he thought, but it was sort of funny, wasn't it? The water (was it water?) looked milky-white in the silver glow of the moon that hung overhead, full and ripe as a summer peach. Opaque waves washed cream-colored froth against the shore, and the air was filled with the heady scent of wild roses.

Weird dream.

He looked across the water at the bronze-skinned, green-eyed woman who sat negligently on a stone, bare feet dangling just above the pearly current; she smiled at him, tucking one strand of her dark hair back. An earring shaped like a crescent moon flashed brilliantly at him as she nodded, one professional acknowledging another (professional what?  He wasn't at all sure.)  The woman held an empty cup in her hand-- high-grade silver, the thief part of him judged critically-- and offered it to him with a quirk of one elegant brow. "Would you like a drink?"

"That'd be nice, but it's empty, isn't it?" He tried to sound casual, but it was hard with Aoko scowling jealously at her from beside him.  'Yumi-chan was there too, looking around wonderingly with Spot clutched in her arms.  What the hell were THEY doing in his dream?

Yeah; weird.

The green-eyed woman laughed merrily, as if he had said something terribly amusing; she reminded him slightly of Akako, which was not a reassuring thought. "Oh no; this is one cup that's never empty--" and sure enough, there was milky-white liquid sloshing around in it, full right up to the brim.  A drink actually sounded sort of good; his mouth was dry, so he nodded politely and reached out.

But she held it back teasingly.  "Are you sure you want to drink?" she asked a little mockingly; at his slightly affronted look (and the annoyed snort beside him) she laughed again.  She had a very musical laugh, chiming like the little wavelets at his feet. "Oh well, never mind-besides, it's much too late anyway..."

And she was right; he could taste it on his lips, sweet as wild roses with all the thorns removed… but bitter, too, like blood and tears and loss--

*

--and now he was awake, just like that; like stepping out of a hot shower into cold, cold air.  Kaito shivered once, violently, and bit back a curse at the abrupt pain the movement woke in his shoulder.  Damn, that HURTS! And it itches, too--  He twisted a little, trying to settle it into a more comfortable position… and suddenly froze, realizing that he seemed to be sitting in a rather peculiar sort of tent, unless he was still dreaming...

Carefully using his good arm to reposition Aoko's sleeping body, the thief eased her onto the floor as he crawled rather awkwardly past what looked for all the world like chairlegs, the kind you'd find around a kitchen table.  Huh... feeling an awful lot better, even if my stupid shoulder hurts like hell; lots more energy now.  Lots more.  In fact, as Kaito pushed through a fold of draped material, it occurred to him that he was actually feeling sort of-- well, he wasn't sure HOW to term it: peculiar? off-balance? weirdly okay? That'd fit-- he felt oddly light-headed without being dizzy; almost preternaturally clear-headed, in fact. And while he still hurt like the bloody blue blazes where he had been wounded, it didn't compare in the least to how it had just a few hours before. He'd felt like the bottom of somebody's dumpster then in comparison. Why this, then?

Never mind, baka; count your blessings and quit worrying about it. What, you want to be feeling WORSE? With a mental snort at his own stupidity he stuck his head out and took a look around.

Clever, clever Ayumi; girl, you have got a BRAIN kicking around in your little skull, don't you?  Her teacher crawled out just far enough to get a good look at the sheet-tent she had obviously built, admiring his apprentice's resourcefulness.  Ayumi herself was currently a lump beneath her bedcovers, breathing deeply and evenly; as the thief pulled himself up to his feet on her desk-chair, Kaito wondered what time it was-- and felt his eyes grow wide as her bedside clock flashed their numbers his way.

Eeeegh-- ten thirty-seven!!  Rita-kun's here and we should've been gone a LONG time ago-- Shit; okay, Kuroba, what's the plan?  Hm; if Rita-kun's out there doing her homework or something, I just may have to try out my little anesthetic darts-- and if she's asleep, I might want to anyway, just for insurance's sake. Cautiously he made his way to the door, leaning heavily against the wall as he went; a few seconds of listening told him that the coast was apparently clear, unless Rita-kun had learned to do her homework while snoring.

Good. Okay, now, quick and quiet--

Slipping his new 'toy' from his pocket where he had stashed it after his clothing change, he eased the door open and edged into the hallway, footfalls utterly silent on the carpet. Five steps, six, seven... From the entrance to the Yoshida's living room he could see the American girl's tousled hair on her pillow, one arm resting on top of her head. Perfect; couldn't have lined it up better if I had tried... now, let's see: press here, and the little cross-hairs pop up…  A tiny set of intersecting white wires rose soundlessly into place; annnd aim… aaand press again--

**thwip!**

The tiny dart struck home in the girl's wrist, dissolving almost instantly; Rita-kun made the faintest of twitches as the anesthetic slipped into her bloodstream before her breathing leveled out, as deep and smooth and even as Ayumi-chan's had been.

Great! G'nite, Rita-kun; sweet dreams…  Kaito carefully popped the crosshairs back in and pocketed what he had just decided to call his 'Peacemaker.'  Okay, better get Aoko up.  I shouldn't wake 'Yumi-chan, though; could leave her a note, I guess...  Moving with care but a little less worry (now that the babysitter was out of the way) the young thief made his shaky way back into the child's bedroom.

"Rise and shine, Aoko-- C'mon, up!  Wakey, wakey--"  Aoko had always been one of the hardest people to rouse that Kaito had ever seen; this time was no exception.  The young woman blinked at him blearily, snarled something that was (fortunately for his delicate virgin ears) unintelligible and curled tightly back in on herself.  It took several more shakes and a few low-voiced threats of tickling before she seemed to come to her senses enough to raise her head, peer around bemusedly at her 'tent'-- and then curl back up, muttering something about 'camping.'

'Camping'?  Oh, wonderful; and the anesthetic dart wasn't going to last forever.  Time for drastic measures.  Hmmmmm... wonder if she'd kill me if I--  A slow grin grew on Kaito's face as he leaned in close, her breath tickling his face...

What the hell; it'll be worth it.

As kisses (stolen, even) went, it wasn't bad; being that Aoko wasn't quite awake it was a little one-sided-- but he didn't mind.  And it was really terribly interesting how he could tell the very second that Aoko woke completely up by the way she was suddenly kissing him back, even if she pulled away in astonishment two seconds later--

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured into her half-dazed eyes; they caught fire, partly from embarrassment and partly from-- well, from Aoko (that was just how she reacted), and Kaito chuckled softly as he ducked an instinctive swing at his head.  Good thing there's not a mop around.

She tasted like roses, for some reason.

Five minutes later had her on her feet and ready to go, if a tad on the groggy side. A note explaining their absence had been folded up and tucked in Ayumi's hand,and a sleeping Spot had been carefully placed in Aoko's backpack (he had curled up in Kaito's discarded white pants and cape without a mew of complaint, much to their mutual relief.)  Aoko seemed to have caught her share of her companion's urgency once her heavy sleepiness had finally slipped off; draping Kaito's arm across her shoulder, she had managed a creditably silent sneak across the apartment, though Rita-kun's sleeping presence had had her wide-eyed and apprehensive.

As the outer door clicked quietly closed behind them both, Kaito heaved a huge sigh of relief; God, I'm OUT of there and I'm alive and unarrested and Aoko hasn't thrown me to the dogs or something.  Can't believe it.  One more day in that closet and I'd've been stark raving bonkers.  Of course, according to certain parties (particularly ones with British ancestry and a tendency towards blondness) he was already well on the way to bonkers, but their opinion didn't count. He was just *fine* with bonkers.

I feel great; I feel GREAT!  Well, except for the bullet-holes, that is-- and even they just don't hurt like I thought they would this morning.  I'm out, I'm free, and I'm going home!  And Aoko's right here and I've kissed her and I'm not a pathetic heap of bruises and contusions on the ground-- come to think of it, SHE kissed ME first!  And the Pandora Gem's smashed to smithereens and as soon as I'm healed up I am gonna grind those black-suited bastards' NOSES in it!

The world, just then, was a wonderful place.

He leaned heavily on Aoko as they made their way to the elevator, thankful for the late hour; 'nobody around' equaled 'no witnesses', and that was a good thing.  A quick call on Aoko's cellphone had a taxi on the way; he grimaced at the thought of the cost-and then realized that he had literally left his wallet in his other pants; a Phantom Thief does NOT usually have a reason to carry cash around...  "Uhhh, I hate to tell you this, but-- I don't have a yen on me.  Aoko? would you mind--?"

She snorted, fishing around in one of the side pockets of her backpack for her wallet.  "It's okay; Tousan gave me some extra in case I needed it.  Besides," and she gave him a slightly ironic smile, "this makes me feel a little better about-- well, about your sense of honesty.  It's kind of nice to know that you don't steal anything other than your targets."

"Hey!" he protested as the elevator doors closed.  "I do NOT steal people's cash!  And while I admit I've taken a couple of things that weren't gems-- you know, like that baseball and that crappy painting-- I gave 'em all back, except for the baseball.  And that had extenuating circumstances."  Kaito sighed as he propped himself in the corner, watching the numbers change above the elevator door.  "I'm not quite without resources, though; one thing dad did before he died was set up a few investments under false names that more or less took care of themselves.  Jii's been handling the checks and sending the money to Mom all these years, but a fair chunk of it's been feeding an account that he knew I'd need someday."

She watched him, her eyes growing a little melancholy at the mention of his father.  "It sounds like he expected that he was going to--"

"He did," Kaito said shortly; the elevator dinged as the doors slid open to reveal the deserted lobby.  He accepted her support without shame, wobbling a little as the last of his burst of waking adrenaline began to fade.  "C'mon, let's wait outside.  I need some air."

The hour was approaching eleven by now; only the occasional car passed by in this part of town and the two apparently had the area to themselves.  As they settled against a low retaining wall backed by an ornamental flowerbed, Kaito heard a rustling sound behind him and glanced back; birds?  Probably. Heh-- he was getting paranoid, jumping at shadows and expecting black-suited killers at every turn. If he wasn't careful, his nerves would be the death of him…

"Kaito?" Aoko was watching him again, her gaze just this side of worried.  "How do you feel? We're going to need to change your bandages, you know--" (he winced) "--whether you like it or not.  You LOOK a lot better than I'd expect you to, really."

He assumed an innocent air.  "Clean living-- we Phantom Thieves swear by it." The young man shifted, glancing over his shoulder again as the bushes behind him rustled almost violently. "Noisy birds tonight; must have a nest in there…"

Aoko swiveled around to peer into the bushes briefly; "Mmhm.  Um, Kaito?  Can I ask you something?"  Her eyes were very intent when they fixed back on his. "If… what if I had decided to call my dad when you told me the truth?  About being Kid, I mean?"  She drew a deep breath, leaning back; an excited chirp (quickly shushed) came from the foliage behind her.  "What WOULD you have done?"

Her companion was silent, one hand carefully scratching at the itchy bandages beneath his shirt.  "I don't know.  Called Jii, I guess-- not that he could've done much, since he's out of town.  And then I guess I'd either try to get away or wait for the cops to pick me up; don't know how far I'd get on my own since I'm not in the greatest of shape at the moment, what with the bullets and all."  It was his turn to take a deep breath now, hitching himself up so that he could sit on the low wall comfortably.  Kaito leaned forward, resting his chin in his good hand. "But you didn't call him, so it's a moot point, ne?"

"I could have, though... If I had, would you have been sorry about calling me?"

"No, you baka," and he actually laughed a little.  "THAT'S one thing I'm clear on-- If I hadn't called you, your dad would've gone into Police HQ this morning and gotten himself shot or blown up or-- I dunno; killed somehow.  Those bastards in black are gunning for him, Aoko, just like they're gunning for me; he's GOT to watch his back!  And if I hadn't called, he'd have died... and I couldn't let that happen, not to you or to anyone."  Kaito looked out across the street-lit concrete and asphalt, watching as a scrap of paper blew past them like a crumpled, diminutive ghost.  "They've killed enough fathers.  I would've done almost anything to keep 'Yumi-chan out of this whole mess, but… not that. Not that.  And I like your dad, I really do; I always have."

"I know. Why?  He's always trying to catch you--"

"--AND failing spectacularly-- "

She scowled, punching him lightly in his good shoulder; Kaito grunted, grimacing slightly.  "Yeah, but he keeps trying, and one of these days he's going to DO it… and then..."

The thief beside her closed his eyes, an odd little smile quirking his lips.  "Yeah-- 'and then?'  You see why it's so weird?  If he DOES ever catch me-- which isn't likely-- he'll have the living shit shocked out of him when he sees who I am.  I mean, he's known me at least as long as you have... and what will YOU do if he catches me, hm?"  He turned his head towards her but did not reopen his eyes.  "I know you said you're gonna hold off on telling him, but--"

"--then you had just better not get caught, okay?" she interrupted him fiercely, eyes snapping.  "That way everybody wins.  Anyway, right now you've got to heal up."  She reached out, gently laying a hand across his forehead.  "No fever… that's good, but when we get to your place I want to take a look at your wounds, so don't try to wiggle out of it."

He opened his eyes and grinned at her.  "Hah-- you just want me to take off my shirt again..." he teased. As the young woman sputtered he added with a wise nod, "It's all that old hentai manga you read; I saw the titles.  That Count Cain series was about as pervy as they got."

She whacked him on his good shoulder rather hard; he OOFed and rocked back slightly, wincing as he nearly tumbled off the wall onto the bushes.  "Owowow!  Dammit, Aoko, quit with the assault and battery, willya?  I'm a wounded man!"

"Then YOU quit! You started it!"  But she reached out and rubbed the offended shoulder as if it had been her own, as if offering an apology.  "I didn't really hurt you, did I? I keep forgetting how badly you were shot-- you look so much better now, and then you go and make a stupid remark like that…"

Undaunted (if a little bruised) he chuckled.  "Well, what am I s'posed to think?  You keep taking my clothes off me-- bet you were ogling me while I was asleep this evening too..."  At her sudden furious sunset of a blush he laughed harder than ever, a slightly startled note in his voice.  "You WERE?" he crowed.  "Aoko!   If you had just said something a while ago I could have provided you with a bunch of nicely-posed photos...  There's even one of me with a dove perched on my--"

This time the blow she swung at him as she scrambled to her feet was even harder; he managed to duck it, but muttered a curse as he grabbed at his bandaged shoulder.  "--head.  My mom took it when I was nine months old; I'm lying on a blanket.  Okay, okay...  Agh, this damned thing HURTS."  He scratched irritably at the bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt again.  Behind him one section of the foliage shook briefly; a sound that fell somewhere between a chirp and a muffled squawk emerged but went fortunately unnoticed by the pair sitting on the wall.

"Besides," added the thief rather philosophically, "if I gave you pics of me I'd expect you to pay me back in kind… and then I'd REALLY get a mop upside the head--"

**WHAM!**

It wasn't really a hard blow, quite light in fact; Nakamori Aoko pulled it at the last second, but it was just enough of a hit directly on top of his head to make Kaito wobble and finally fall over backwards directly onto a rather thick bush.  The bush went 'aaack', very quietly, the sound hidden in the crunching of branches as the wounded thief struggled to get out of its leafy embrace.  His usual agility impaired by his wounds and by weakness, he thrashed for a moment or two while the young woman watched critically.  Finally: "Well, don't just STAND there, help me out! Dammit, Aoko--!"

She blinked at him, smiling innocently.  "Did you hear something?" she inquired of the night air, looking up at the sky.  "It almost sounded like somebody wanted to apologize to me...?"

"@#$%!!"

"The taxi should be here in a minute, too..."

**whimper**

"...okay.  I'm sorry.  Really, honestly, truly, from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my nigh-endless regard for you.  Now could you PLEASE get me out of here before I end up with Tetanus or something?"  The bush beneath Kaito made a sort of strangled grunt as he was carefully hoisted from its branches and pulled back up onto the wall, where he tried to catch his breath, hugging himself around his bandages a bit.  "You could have a little mercy, y'know...  I did save your father's life, not that Nakamori'd treat me any better if he found me..."

"Like father, like daughter," responded his assailant promptly-- and then she froze as the hand that was carefully picking leaf-litter and twigs from his jacket paused at the feel of dampness.  "I-- you've started bleeding again, and it's my fault!  Kaito--"

He shook his head, his breath hitching a little.  "Never mind, it's okay, really.  It'll probably do it a time or two more before it closes up, anyway-- besides, it doesn't hurt that much."  The young thief ran the fingers of his good hand through his hair, dislodging a shower of debris.  "Truth to tell, I'm kind of surprised at how little it hurts... Did your dad recover this fast from that shot he took?"

As a taxi pulled up to the curb, the Inspector's daughter shook her head and frowned.  "No... In fact, he couldn't even wiggle his toes without making a real fuss about it for about three or four days."  She helped him up from the wall; behind him the bushes settled back with a sigh.  "Must be that 'clean living' you mentioned."

He snorted, leaning heavily on her shoulder. "Either that or a thick head."

An address was given, the taxi door closed, and they were gone.

*

"@#$%#!!  &#@!!  That utter, complete %#$@!!" muttered the small figure that pulled itself out from beneath the crushed bush, twigs sticking out from collars, cuffs, hair and wherever else they had semi-permanently entangled themselves.  A scratched cheek was cupped in a hand, and a set of glasses were picked up from the ground.

"Thanks..."  Conan absentmindedly slid them back on, shaking his head.  "...and you get onto ME for swearing..."

"Well, how was I to know he was going to sit on me, for heaven's sake?!  I almost shot him with a tranq-dart, but I couldn't get a good aim… and by the way, why aren't we rushing off after them both on the skateboard?"  Ran pulled a particularly well-entrenched branch from her long hair, wincing.  "Shouldn't we be in-- I don't know, hot pursuit or something?"

The boy pulled himself up onto the wall so recently vacated by their quarries. "Nope," he said, with a very sneaky, very 'I-have-you-now' sort of smile. "Want to know why?"

Rin's look spoke volumes as he pulled her up to join him; the young woman in small girl's clothing reached up and pulled a leaf from behind his ear. "Why?"

"Because he gave his address to the taxi-driver, that's why.  And now we know where Kaitou Kid lives."  Edogawa Conan sighed a contented sigh of deep satisfaction.

Her eyes grew large. "Oh. OH."  She reached across and tugged another leaf free from Conan's hair, speculation written on her face as she thought over what they had seen and heard from their rather peculiar vantage point.  At that moment she looked more like her old self than usual-- Ran had had the same habit of staring into space while she thought.  "So what do we know BESIDES that so far, then?"

The boy beside her ticked off the points on his fingers.  "One: He was injured, and with more than one bullet-wound.  Two: His accomplice is named Nakamori Aoko-- and if she's who she seems to be, she's the daughter of the police inspector that heads up the taskforce in charge of catching him.  Three: She just found out his secret, and I do mean just.  Four: He has a second accomplice named Jii.  And five..."  The young detective paused, a shadow passing over his face.

"'Five'?" prompted Rin.

He looked at her, and there was no mistaking the puzzlement and hesitation in his dark blue eyes.  "Five: He risked-- and paid with-- disclosure to that young woman in order to save her father's life."  Conan scowled in frustration, the last vestiges of his smile fading as his hands tightened into small fists.  "WHY can't he just be a nice, uncomplicated villain, dammit?"  One of the fists pounded on the concrete between them.  "I gave him a break when we talked at the park, mostly because he seemed as stuck between a rock and a hard place as we are, and also because… well, because I trust my instincts.  And my instincts said that, just this once, the world would be a better place with him free than with him caught."

"And now?"  Her low voice was non-committal, but there was an underlying edge of anger behind it. Belatedly the boy recalled that Rin still held a distinct grudge against the thief for endangering Ayumi…  Whups. Kid better watch out for his head.  When Ran gets that tone in her voice--

He tried to collect his thoughts and to think past his emotions.  "Now-- we need more information.  You and I both read Nakamori's notes, and we both know about the shootout the other night; who's gunning for the two of them?  In the park, he told me enough that I know his father was murdered and that he's after his killer…"

A hand on his made Conan look up; Rin slid off the wall tugging at him impatiently.  "Let's go, then; you want more information, don't you?  I want to see what kind of place a Phantom Thief lives in--"

As he reached behind him for the skateboard (well-hidden in the bushes), a smile twitched at the corner of Conan's mouth; he looked over his glasses at the girl who was nearly hopping from one foot to the other as she waited.  "You really want to get this guy, don't you, Ran? I never thought you'd be so revenge-minded--"

She paused, looking confused. "Revenge? What has this got to do with revenge? I just want to make sure he doesn't get Ayumi in trouble-- oh; you mean that thing with the Black Pearl? When he knocked me out and took my place?" Rin blinked, then cocked one eyebrow at him. "It seems like such a long time ago; I almost forgot about that, but I guess if I wanted to I could add it onto my agenda…"

Conan felt the hair on the back of his neck fairly stand up. Errk; I almost feel sorry for Kid now-- Hurriedly he changed the subject. "Uh, by the way, aren't your parents going to throw a few fits about our being out this late? I mean, it's been hours."

She climbed onto the board behind him, small hands clasped securely around his waist.  "No, because we're not here; we're at Agasa-hakase's house tonight."  Rin sounded rather pleased with herself; at his own raised eyebrows she continued cheerfully.  "When I saw you from the window I figured we'd be busy for a while-- I've been on 'stake-outs' with you before, remember?  --and I didn't want to worry them; so I called the Professor on the way down the stairs, and he agreed to let us in whenever we make it home.  Mom and dad just think we're working on some research."

As the night-time cells of his solar-driven skateboard started up the motor, the boy grunted.  "I guess we are, at that. You know, I keep thinking there was something that Kid said when he was talking to that girl, something I missed-- something important."  They began to move, and he scowled to himself as his hair blew back from his face.  "It's driving me nuts…  I just KNOW he said something that I didn't catch--"

Conan felt the arms around his waist hug him gently.  "We can think about it on the way over.  Do we have to go very far?"

Kudo Shinichi's grin-- a sharp, confident grin, one that had spelled doom for a long list of criminals-- made its way onto Conan's face. "Not nearly far enough for Kid, I'd imagine."

*

They were less than two blocks from their destination when things hit the fan.  "Shinichi..."

"Hmmm?" Okay, a left here, and then… yeah, it ought to be around this corner--  He began the curve that would become a right-hand turn.

"Shinichi.  SHINICHI! STOP!!"

**skreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeechWHAMMM!**

Unable to brake properly, the board continued on to hit the curb and pitch both passengers into a tumbling roll on somebody's lawn; behind a brick wall less than a dozen feet away, a dog began barking hysterically.  "What? WHAT??  Ran, are you okay?  What--"  Conan sat up, somewhat wild-eyed with his hair over his face and his glasses dangling by one earpiece.

The little girl sat very, very still on the grass, shocked into immobility; at the horrified look of comprehension on her face, Conan scrambled forward, his hands instinctively coming to rest on her shoulders.  "What is it? Ran--??"

"I remembered…" she whispered; "I don't know why, but all of a sudden I remembered!  I know what it was you didn't catch..."  Her eyes were huge as she stared at him.  "Don't you remember, Shinichi?!?  It was when he was talking about the people that tried to kill Nakamori-san-- he said, 'Those bastards in black are gunning for him'--  Shinichi?  'In BLACK '--!"

... black ... oh God...

His jaw dropped in shock and horror; for one long, long moment icewater seemed to have replaced his blood as realization flooded through Kudo Shinichi's mind and body, chilling him to the bone.  Facts that had not fit before, speculations and late-night ponderings were suddenly shuffled like a magician's deck of cards--

…he's been fighting the same enemy that WE have...  They're after him, and oh shit just being here is so goddamn dangerous-- what if they're watching, what if they see us, see Ran--

ohgod. No. I've got to get her away--

--and when he came back to himself and the world, he realized that he was still clutching the small shoulders of the girl opposite him and that she was staring him mutely in the face, her eyes full of apprehension.  "It's them, isn't it?" she whispered.

"I--" He couldn't go on; cold fingers seemed to be tightening around his heart and his pulse drummed in his ears.

"It… could be a coincidence, I guess," said Rin's soft voice, very subdued; but the ice inside Shinichi's bones replied otherwise.

"We need to go home-- if it's them, then there's no WAY I'm taking you anywhere near--"  He scrambled to his feet, grabbing at the skateboard with shaky hands. It looked a little worse for wear, but seemed to still work.  "Come on," he hissed, looking around swiftly in near-panic; "We need to--"

Rin shook her head violently, quickly putting a finger against his lips as she glanced at the house they were beside; figures were moving behind the blinds, drawn by the sounds outside.  The girl pointed silently at the skateboard and made a sort of slashing gesture with the side of one hand, signifying 'no board = less noise'; drawing a hard breath her companion nodded, and they gathered themselves up and headed as quietly as possible down the street.

As soon as a convenient alleyway presented itself, the small couple stepped aside into the deeper shadows.  "Fine, we're away from the houses, let's get GOING now," muttered Conan as he dropped the board to the pavement.  His thoughts raced ahead of his body, making single-minded tracks for safety… somewhere.  Ran's?  Agasa's?  Somewhere--

He had one foot on the board when Rin's hand caught his shoulder, spinning him around to face her.  "Shinichi, stop panicking!  We've got to think this out before we go running off someplace, okay?  What's WRONG with you?  You don't usually spook like this--"

The shaken face that stared at her in the shadowed alley was clearly Kudo Shinichi's, despite the glasses and the childishness of the rounded features; only Shinichi got that frantic need-to-move-right-NOW look. It filled his eyes, wiping away any resemblance to a little boy that was left (not that there was much, after the shock of realization that he'd had) with its urgency; he looked afraid and he didn't care who saw it.  "What's there to think about?" he snapped back, pulling away a little.  "We can't just ignore something like that-- don't you understand?  They may know about me, they may know about Ai, but they don't know about you yet!"  He drew a sharp breath.  "If they're watching his house they'll see us, and then they'll put two and two together--"

She caught his other shoulder and shook him by them slightly.  "Shinichi, don't you think they could do that without seeing me?  I mean, all it would take would be a watcher or two around our place to see that Mouri Ran's gone and I'm there in her place; if they really do suspect you, then they probably already know about me too."  Rin's voice was almost steady; she let go of one shoulder to reach up and touch his face in a gentle, feather-light touch, drawing a deep breath of her own.  "It's… probably too late already, don't you think?"

"No, I don't."  The dark blue eyes behind the lenses had hardened now, steadying.  "Because we're still alive.  So we're not going to take stupid risks, okay?  We're turning around right now and going home."

Rin glared back at him dropping her hands to her hips.  "Now you LISTEN to me, Kudo Shinichi!  We are NOT turning around and running, no matter how much we might want to-- or have you forgotten who else could be trouble because of this?!?"

The boy's eyes sharpened further, turning inwards as his mind darted from fact to conjecture to possibility, coming slowly to a horrifying conclusion.  "---No," he whispered; "If Ayumi-kun gets hurt...  If they connect him in any way to her, she's in danger too, now."  His fingers bit into the edges of the skateboard.

"That's right," said Himitsu Rin quietly.  "She's probably safe at the moment-- but we can't gamble on that, can we?  We have to find out everything we can--"  She regarded the boy beside her for a long moment, her eyes softening at the way he almost seemed to curl up on himself in dread; he was so afraid for her, for Ayumi, for himself...  So Rin stepped forward and did something that only happened rarely, something that they had both shied away from for the most part since her transformation: she wrapped her small arms around the boy in front of her and held him tightly, as tightly as any young woman might have held the young man she loved.  He shivered once and then clung to her, resting his head on her shoulder, his eyes slowly closed.

… Ran…

"I'm sorry...  I can't let you get hurt; they've screwed up our lives so much already and they're killers, Ran; Gin, Vodka, all the rest," he whispered; she nodded silently, accepting this.  "But I can't let Ayumi pay for Kid's stupid mistakes-- or for mine.  I should have turned him in when I found out she was meeting him."  His face tight with tension, but his hands held her gently.

Rin stroked his hair as she had done so many times when he had just been Conan-kun and she had been Ran-neechan; her eyes were closed, her expression much older than any young girl's should have been.  "You did what you thought was right; and Shinichi?  Maybe it was the right thing to do.  From what you said, he's suffered too, hasn't he? His father, and now that girl's--"

Conan raised his head, stepping a little back so that he could see Rin's face; a car going by threw headlight-beams across the alley like a passing thought.  "But… didn't you want to--"

"--see him arrested?"  She actually smiled a little, a grim little smile.  "Only if he can't help.  But it seems to me that there might be a little more common ground between all of us now than we thought there was, hm?"

"… I… yes," he growled back, desperation and a strange, almost angry wonder in the words.  "There is ."

There really wasn't much else to be said.

*

They made the rest of their way as silently as was possible, flitting through the shadows like frightened, preadolescent ghosts.  Any watchers, Conan reasoned, would be keeping an eye on the front door at the very least; therefore the main street was off-limits.  It was rather surreal to look at the largish, almost prosaic house in the everyday neighborhood and realize just who lived there-- the layout was a little weird but for the most part it looked normal, normal, normal-- and you just didn't expect normalcy, not from the residence of Kaitou Kid, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire.  Phantom Thieves weren't supposed to have lawns that could really do with cutting; Phantom Thieves weren't supposed to have next-door-neighbors who'd hung their laundry out and forgotten to take it in.  It was rather hard to know just WHAT they were supposed to have, but other than the dove-cote in the back the whole place looked very, very ordinary.

Or perhaps that was just extremely good camouflage.

Lights were on inside, so they dared not approach the house to read the name on the mailbox by the front door, even if they had wanted to-- not that it was necessary; a quick look in the trashbins at the back of the property produced a sheaf of discarded high-school homework with a name at the top of each page: Kuroba Kaito.

Kuroba Kaito.

They both stared at the characters (his handwriting was terrible) for quite a long time before Conan carefully folded the papers up and stowed them in his pocket.  Neither one of them was quite ready to say anything out loud, but as they stared up at the house an idea began to take shape in the young detective's mind...

He drew Rin back from the trashbins with him; they crept quietly along the brick fence that edged the yard, keeping to the shadows.  As they passed by one lit window the distinctive sound of a shower could be heard through the textured glass (as well as remarkably tuneless whistling) and Conan paused, feeling somewhat better and less shaken as his idea developed into a definite plan.  Plans were good; he liked plans.  And that bathroom window there...  Oh, he could use that window.

Perfect.  If THIS doesn't rattle him, nothing will.  And I think it's about time somebody yanked Kid's chain for a change.

The boy eyed the brick fence and then the level of the windowsill beyond it; they weren't that high-- he had climbed worse before, and with his companion's help it shouldn't be too much of a problem.  No dogs in the yard to cause trouble either; they would have heard them.  He turned to the girl beside him, who had leaned over to tie her shoe (and who was currently attempting to refrain from knotting her long hair in with the laces.)  "Hey, Rin?" he whispered; "Do you have a pen or a marker or something like that on you?"

* * *

Being at home after Full Disclosure was… weird ; weird with a capital "W", weird as in "Why aren't I in jail?"

But weird was a really good thing at the moment, as far as Kaito was concerned; he had no complaints with weird.  As the young thief flumphed down onto the living room couch with a sigh, his eyes closed and he felt the cushions beside him shift as Aoko sank down with a little more grace.  The backpack she had dropped begin to make muffled complaints; she leaned forward and unzipped it to allow its feline passenger's release.

Sure hope there aren't any doves inside right now; shouldn't be, though-- they're usually roosting this late at night.  Kaito could feel himself relaxing for what seemed like the first time in ages; he was home, home, home-sweet-home... and Aoko knew everything and hadn't totally freaked or beaten his brains in with the nearest blunt instrument.  THAT part still kept amazing him, no matter how many times he ran it through his head.

And since I've talked to her, I guess it's time I sat down and had a little heart-to-heart with Kaasan, too.  It's not like she doesn't know-- she HAS to, she reads the papers and even though Jii tends to shut up Big Time when I mention her, I can't imagine that she didn't know what Oyaji did some nights.  Wonder if she ever had to patch up any bullet-wounds in his hide?  If there was one thing that Kuroba Kaito had it was a healthy respect for his mother; not all his talents came from his father's side of the family.

"D'you want the first shower or should I go ahead?" he asked without opening his eyes.  This wasn't exactly the first time Aoko had stayed with him-- they knew each other's houses inside out (or at least Aoko thought she knew his; he had a surprise or two to show her later concerning that little subject.)  All the important things like where the extra towels were kept and so forth weren't a problem, so Kaito was a little nonplussed at the moment of silence following his question; he cracked one eye open cautiously.

Oh; she was blushing-- and didn't she look awfully good like that, all red-cheeked?  He chuckled to himself-- it was his newest, most favorite hobby, making Aoko blush.  Now, how to handle this?  He could either reassure her that some things hadn't changed or he could take his chances and make her blush even harder, thus risking life and limb due to her wrath.  Which option to choose?

Stupid question.  Kaito was just opening his mouth to say something about them saving on hot water by showering together (he might need help with his bandages, after all) when he realized that just maaaybe this was not the time to get thwacked over the head with a lamp or something-- he was injured enough as it was.  So, saving the remark for later, he gave her a one-shouldered shrug and said "Why don't you go first?  You'll be quicker than me; this--" and he tapped his bandages carefully, "--may take me a little time."

Some of Aoko's blush faded as she stood up, eyeing him dubiously.  "Can you manage by yourself okay?"

Oooh; what an opening... no, shouldn't say anything, should be good and behave and… and… uhhh…  OH, what the hell.  A lamp across the skull can't hurt much more than a mop-!  Kaito grinned disarmingly up at her, eyebrows rising.  "Hmm, I dunno-- I mean, if you're offering to scrub my back, I won't say no..."  And then he got ready to duck.

To his utter astonishment (and continued good health) Aoko proceeded to turn an amazing shade of scarlet, stammered something unintelligible and then turned to flee up the stairs to the bathroom with remarkable speed.  He stared after her, eyes wide… and wondered somewhat giddily just what exactly he would have done if she had said something as unlikely as 'Okay; let's go…'  Great; now HE was feeling a little warm.  Allowing his head to fall backwards onto the couch again, Kaito rested his forearm across his eyes and tried to ignore the tiny, feline sounds indicating that Spot was snickering at him from beneath the couch.

*

Aoko was done fairly quickly; she apparently had taken refuge in the guest room, if her shout of "I'm finished, it's all yours," and the slamming of a door was any indication.  Eyes still closed, Kaito grinned to himself fondly; she was still flustered.

He heaved himself carefully up from the couch, staggering more than just a little; he might be feeling better, but that didn't mean he was feeling WELL just yet-- and for that matter, how the hell was he supposed to get up all those stairs?  The downstairs bathroom didn't have a shower...  Well, he was damned if he'd yell for help; yelling for help meant admitting that he couldn't make it on his own, that he was weak, that he needed to be draped across Aoko again--

(and she'd be fresh out of her shower, wouldn't she, with her damp hair all tangled and sweet-smelling and her face still flushed as pink as any rose)

!!!  Oooh...  And I really COULD do with the help, to be truthful.  "Aoko? Um, Aoko? I hate to bother you..." (deep breath, slightly pained tone added to voice) "… but do you think you can help me up the stairs?"  The sound of a dismayed, startled exclamation came from above, just audible through the ceiling.  A door opened; the young thief chuckled softly even as he made a slightly guilty promise to himself to Be A Gentleman.

Maybe I'm going a bit overboard-- I mean, we only just now started this 'physical' aspect of things and I shouldn't overdo it, I guess; but damned if I'm not enjoying it... and I don't hear any complaints coming from Aoko 'bout it either.  Kaito leaned against the banister and tried to look pathetically grateful as steps hurried down the stairs from above.

*

Aoko HAD smelled just wonderful.  Kaito whistled aimlessly to himself as the water from the shower splashed down, making him feel roughly three thousand percent better than he had all day.

Roses; she smelled like roses.  Wonder how she managed that?  Must just be something about her-- she tasted like roses when I kissed her earlier this evening too.  Never knew she liked roses so much.

After a few minutes of thought, he had left the bandages on; after all, removing them would hurt, and he had had enough hurting for a while. Aoko had also pointed out quite helpfully that soaking them would loosen any dried blood and make their removal a lot easier, too, after he got out of the shower.  She's probably camped out in the hall with scissors, tape, gauze, antiseptic and anything else she can think of to torture me with, he thought with a mental sigh as he propped himself against the tiled wall, trying to scrub his hair with one hand.  Shampoo-foam ran into his eyes and he cursed briefly at the sting-- and then wondered how in the world something as small as a little soap in the eyes could bother him after getting a whonking huge hole in the shoulder.  Shouldn't that be taking precedence on the one-to-ten pain scale?

I really, really DO feel better, the young thief thought in wonder; a slight tinge of uneasiness was beginning to seep in around the edges when he remembered just how miserable he had felt the day before.  I'm a quick healer, always have been, but THIS fast?  It still hurts like hell, but it was damned near incapacitating only twenty-four hours ago; did I damage some nerves or something?  Water running down from the soaked bandages was an alarming red, but he didn't feel that tickling, sticky sensation that announced fresh bleeding at the moment; that was good.  Well, shit-- why worry? If it's getting better it's getting better; good.  I'm gonna have enough trouble handling things over the next few days anyway.

A strong twinge shot through Kaito's abused, damaged muscles as he carefully raised his left arm a little and worked his fingers: fist, individual fingers-to-thumb, extension, curl… all the small exercises that magicians use to limber up.  It hurt, but not nearly as much as he had expected it to.  And it helped him think, which was entirely good, because he was drawing a blank just then on how to deal with--

WhattheHELLwas THAT ?!?

He had heard a sound, he was sure of it...

Before the thought of moving had even crossed Kuroba Kaito's brain, Kaitou Kid had taken up a defensive posture in the corner of the bathroom by the door, cardgun in hand with his finger on the trigger.  His eyes were fixed steadily on the bathroom's one small window where the tiny sound had come from: a tapping, the minutest of knocking--  There was something taped to the outside of the window; rectangular and white, it looked like a note.  If it had been a ticking time-bomb it could not have been more alarming.

Slowly the phantom thief became aware of the disadvantages of his situation; first off, he was bare-ass-naked and soaking wet with shampoo-suds sliding down into his eyes; secondly, he was wounded and in his civilian locale-- one place where he did not, not, NOT want any sort of confrontations whatsoever.  So that meant he wasn't calling Aoko, no way, no how... and somebody had left a note on HIS window; now, the question was, was it for Kuroba Kaito or for Kaitou Kid?  Somehow he doubted that it was from anyone as relatively harmless as Hakuba-kun.

A horrible suspicion ran across his mind, pursued by visions of short little detectives with deceptively innocent faces.  Eeep.  Please let it have been Hakuba-kun.

It took a few minutes before he would allow himself to slide back the window; after all, there might be watchers or snipers out there-- there might be any number of deadly things just waiting to see who reached out.  But at last he gritted his teeth, flattened himself along the wall and opened the glass an inch or so-- just far enough to reach through with two fingers and tug the note inside.

The Phantom Thief's heartbeat thundered in his ears; droplets from his hair blurred the ink, but not enough-- not nearly enough.  OhhhSHIT.  I had almost rather it HAD been a sniper.  The words were written in black felt-tip marker, each character clean and precise where it crossed a piece of last week's homework. Kaito felt his stomach sink to somewhere in the vicinity of his toes as cold realization struck home:

We need to talk, Kuroba-- same terms as in the park. Contact me.-- K.S.

The young thief leaned against the wall, water droplets running down from his soaked hair and mingling with the sudden sheen of sweat that had popped up; he closed his eyes in numb shock.  He knows my name.  The Shrimp... knows my real name...

* * *

Outside the Kuroba house, the quiet, soft rumble of a skateboard's wheels diminished into the distance.

Chapter Text

There are certain things in the world that can be counted upon as dependable. For instance, if you drop a piece of buttered toast, you can pretty much bet that it'll land buttered-side-down (despite the fact that this *should* only happen about fifty percent of the time.) If you sit down in front of a TV and are desperate for entertainment, there'll be nothing on but reruns, long-winded political speeches and telemarketing infomercials. And, of course, if you wear a white outfit, sooner or later you're going to spill something on it; it's a given. White outfits attract stains in the same way that ailurophobes attract cats.

A few other certainties exist as well; a good example would be the Law of Generic Reporting. No matter how interesting the subject matter is, no matter how peculiar or utterly remarkable the facts that go into it are, if a study of a subject produces a report then the actual act of writing said report will reduce everything to mind-numbing, boring, slumber-inducing minutiae. You could produce a write-up on the immanent second coming of Christ (complete with a detailed timetable and schedule for Rapture take-offs and arrivals in Heaven) and it would still put the Pope to sleep after about eight minutes of reading. That's just how these things are.

Despite this law, however, some reports can be more interesting than others. For instance, the one being printed out on a small portable printer in a Tokyo hotel room. It was no more than two pages long, mostly composed of dates and short notations beside each one in excruciatingly exact officialese. For the most part anyone reading it (a police officer, for instance, or a private detective) would recognize it after a moment as the kind of notes one would take during a stake-out-detailed and based on times and movements. Boring, boring, boring ad infinitum.

A little closer reading, however, might take away the boredom and replace it with uneasiness-and eventual alarm...

It's amazing, really, how easily the business of death can be reduced simply to business.

10/6 -- Sunday, 12:03 a.m. - Subject 8736 arrived at home address via taxi, accompanied by lone female (8977); appeared somewhat injured, moved slower than norm and favored left arm and side, required some aid in walking. 8977 appeared uninjured. House appeared unoccupied prior to arrival (see pages 1-2); previously observed designees 8698 (female, parent of 8736) and 8713 (elderly male, relationship unknown) have not yet returned. 8736, 8977 entered house; interior lights stayed on approximately 1.75 hours, exterior remained on until dawn. No other approaches noted (some small amounts of noise in back alley around wastecans, probably strays.) Phonetaps remain unable to be placed due to security devices placed in the past by terminated 8697 (updated periodically by current subject of report as well as by 8713 in past years; possible termination of 8713 suggested.)

Note: 8736 was upright and moving without major impairment despite reported severity of injury; anomaly . Close viewing through infrared binocs was not detailed enough to show whether or not suspected physical changes were apparent. Both 8736 and 8977 will continue to be watched until an order is given to capture or terminate.

Query: Taxi-driver will be approached and pickup address obtained; should regular termination procedures be followed in driver's case? As per policy, if no answer is received by time of interview driver will be terminated via usual methods. Also: Should usual methods of surveillance be set in operation regarding residents of pickup location, or should residents be questioned and then terminated?

Surveillance of 8736 and related subjects will continue under heightened alert-status; reports will be produced at twice-daily intervals unless requested otherwise. If any termination order of main subject 8736 or related subjects (8698, 8713, 8977, etc.) is given, methods of operation will be requested prior to act. It is understood that these are considered to be actively useful subjects; unnecessary termination has been indicated as a non-option. Future capture and interrogation may yet be an option, however, pending orders.

Note: Related subject 8975 (male, parent of 8977) has not yet returned to adjoining property after 10/04 termination attempt (see report XP90822.) No onsite activity apparent since 10/6 a.m. departure of 8977.

Query: If 8975 comes in range, should the termination order currently in effect be followed? Considering 8975's past habits, said subject will not stay unlocatable for long-- termination can be carried out in a number of locations and by a number of methods, though 8975's death will be difficult if not impossible to hide for very long. Please provide preferred location, if any. Should termination methods include extreme prejudice, or is discretion preferred? Per policy, if no answer is received by time of 8975's coming in range, termination will proceed at first opportunity and by any methods at hand.

The pages slid quietly into the printer's output tray, neat and precise; the trenchcoated man waiting patiently for their arrival gathered them up, checked them briefly for accuracy, and then dropped them into the machine's fax-slot for sending. A button was pushed, and the report was on its way to its destination...

Just business as usual.

The black-clad man yawned once as the pages buzzed their way through, his bored eyes glinting with a golden, catlike luminescence in the darkened hotel room.

* * *

Oh man... Kaito dripped all over his bathroom floor as he stared, aghast, at what was written across the piece of paper he clutched in one soapy hand:

We need to talk, Kuroba-- same terms as in the park. Contact me-- K.S.

...Well, shit. Not good, not good, not good; the only thing that'd be worse right now would be if Nakamori suddenly showed up at the door with an arrest warrant in hand--

**KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!!**

Gaaaaaahhh!  The thief leaped a foot, nearly dropping the note into the toilet. "W-what?!?" he stammered, pressed against one wall of the small room with his heart pounding.

"Kaito? Are you okay? I thought I heard you sort of thudding around in there--" The rather uncertain voice did indeed belong to a Nakamori, but not the one he was worried about. --Well, not in the usual sort of way, the one involving handcuffs and jail cells and long-term stays in the hoosegow... *This* Nakamori tended to worry him in totally different (and not completely unwelcome) areas, often involving his heart.

Wiping away sweat and soap-suds, Kaito tried to collect his thoughts. Deep breath; hold it in-- let it out. Okay, no hyperventilating. "Uhh, not exactly. Be out in a minute--" With care he placed the horrific scrap of paper that had so unsettled him in the pocket of the bathrobe hanging on the doorknob and ducked back into the shower.

Right... don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. You KNEW there was a good chance this was gonna happen, especially after you got 'Yumi-chan involved. Kudo's as stubborn and tenacious as they come... and really protective of his friends; matter of fact, the really odd thing about that note was the 'same terms as in the park' bit. He *still* wants a truce? That's... weird. Great, fine, fantastic-- but weird. If it was me... He cranked up the blast of water, washing the last of the shampoo and a little of his tension away beneath the deluge; If it was me, I'd have me in jail so fast my bearings would smoke. Maybe he's afraid I'll drag Ayumi down too--? Nahh; I don't think I made THAT bad an impression. As Kaito turned off the tap, he grinned faintly at the memory of Conan's outraged face as he had quipped about setting his little apprentice up with a miniature hang-glider and taking her on heists. He had only been, well, 'Kidding,' actually, but the joke had nearly earned him a hyper-propelled pinecone in the face.

Touchy, touchy, Kudo-san. You don't really think I'd let anything happen to 'Yumi-chan, do you? Not in this lifetime.

He stepped out, reaching for a towel and absentmindedly beginning to dry off; the floor was rather wet after his impromptu early exit, but it wasn't too bad. So why's he being so, so civilized about this? There's got to be a reason--

Kaito yawned again, the tension leaching out of his shoulders as weariness replaced it. No matter how stressed he was by Kudo's stupid note, his body was taking over and insisting that he rest. And Aoko was almost definitely waiting for him outside the door with the first-aid kit… and with questions, too...

He paused in the act of awkwardly tugging on a pair of old sweatpants; what in the *world* was he going to tell her about Kudo? He couldn't explain everything-- well, he could, but… Dammit; I said I'd keep quiet about his secret, but-- this isn't a case of 'What Aoko doesn't know won't hurt me' anymore. Maybe I could explain just a little? Enough so that she'd understand he's somebody we need to watch out for, but also somebody who's on the side of the angels? Kaito shrugged himself carefully into a rather ratty bathrobe, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes…

… without noticing that he was using his left hand to do so.

The young magician carefully creaked the door open-- or he would have, if somebody hadn't been sitting with their back against it. "Mmph?" said Aoko, rubbing at her eyes and blinking up at him. Despite his tension, her friend had to smile at the sight she presented, all tousled and sleepy in an old robe and set of his mother's pajamas. "About time-- I thought you had slid down the drain or something-- Kaito? Kaito, what's wrong?" The Inspector's daughter's eyes grew wider as she stared up at him. "You look… sort of… upset? I mean, more than before..."

Damn; should've put on my Poker Face. He sighed and pulled out Kudo's note from his pocket. "This."

Aoko peered up at it as she climbed to her feet, hefting the first-aid kit as if it were a weapon; Kaito eyed the kit askance. "That's… last Thursday's science quiz? Kaito, you have the weirdest sense of priorities… oh." She frowned as he turned it over and she read the lines written crosswise on the page. "Who in the world is 'K.S.'? And WHAT terms? And why are you worrying about this now?"

"Because it just got delivered through my bathroom window," he reported glumly. At her raised eyebrows he hesitated, scratching the back of his soggy head. "It's sort of a long story--"

"Then you can tell me a quick version while I'm bandaging you and the rest after we both get some sleep," she answered with a scowl. "I mean, it can wait 'til tomorrow-- later today, whatever-- right? Good." Catching him by the elbow, she steered him firmly towards his bedroom. "THIS needs to be taken care of right now."

He blinked, stumbling a little as she dragged him down the hall towards his bed; Aoko, if you keep giving me straight lines like this, I'm not gonna be able to restrain myself. But then, you're about to bandage me up and you could HURT me if you wanted to, so I'll be good...

…Well, at least I'll *try* to be good. No promises. Heh.

A few minutes later saw him sitting down with his bathrobe pooling around his waist as the young woman carefully peeled off the sodden bandages; her fingers were very careful and gentle on his bare skin despite the occasional threat to whap him with the nearest blunt object if he didn't quit squirming. It was hard not to squirm, though, even with the best of intentions; Kaito iiiiiitched. That was an improvement over pain, he supposed, but it was driving him crazy.

At last the final strips of tape were peeled away and he braced himself as she loosened the soaked pads from his wounded shoulder; it made sense to do it first, since the droplets would run downwards and soak the new bandages on his side if she did that instead. Fine, he grumbled inside his head, bracing himself; just get it over with--

Funny; it didn't hurt nearly as much as he had thought it would, being exposed to air again; he kept his face turned away, not wanting to see the torn, reddened flesh. Aoko had paused, though; her hands were still, continuing to rest on either side of the wound-- did it look THAT bad? "Aoko? What's wrong?" What, is it infected or something? Doesn't feel like it; other than itching, it's not really too painful.

She sounded a bit odd when she answered. "Your wound… it's healing…" The sodden bandages fell to the floor in front of him with a soggy splat.

??? "Uhhhh-- isn't that sort of the idea? I mean, that's *good,* right? --Aoko?" Kaito turned his head to look up at her; she had the strangest expression on her face...  And then he looked at his shoulder.

WHAT the hell?!?

Slowly he raised his good hand to touch the wound, running hesitant, curious fingers across--

--it shouldn't LOOK like that--!!

--across red, undoubtedly painful, definitely bloodstained but also definitely unbroken skin where a ragged tear in his shoulder had been the night before. Impossibly, unbelievably, what had been a bruised, swollen perforation had closed in on itself and mended as if it were many days old rather than less than two.

No way. NO way. That's...

His eyes must have been bugging out as he regarded his own body with shock and something that was akin to horror. "Holy shit, Batman," Kaito said faintly as a wave of shakiness washed across his mind; "What…? Aoko, what--?" He couldn't seem to get the questions out as the young woman in front of him STARED, first at his shoulder, then at his face, then back at his shoulder...

"Kaito?" said the Inspector's daughter carefully, her voice rather small; "Kaito, did you… do something to make it heal like this?" Her eyes were enormous.

"Like WHAT?" he asked helplessly, swallowing hard. He ran cautious fingertips across the skin again; it hurt, but it felt sort of like-- "It's… like it happened weeks ago... Aoko, I--" He stopped to swallow again, and his voice was a little higher in pitch when he went on. "Aoko, I may be a magician, but I'm NOT-- not-- I mean, hell NO I didn't do anything!! What could I do?"

"But, but you HAD to! K-Kaito, bullet-holes don't just, just seal up like that. You HAD to have done something--!!" The young woman's fingers were still gripping his body to either side of what had been the wound, but her fingers were no longer warm; they were cold and damp, sweating, and she let go abruptly as she pulled away.

Kaito sat back a little further on the bed, his mind reeling at the sheer impossibility of the whole thing. "What the hell could I do?” he repeated, poking gingerly at his own skin with one finger; there was one place on the end of the dimpled pucker that was redder and more tender than the rest, and he wondered a little wildly if that was where it had bled when Aoko had knocked him over into the flowerbed outside Ayumi's building earlier that night. If it had been, it hadn't bled much. “Ohhh man, will you look at that… it's completely healed over." Tremulously he brought his touch around to the back where the worst damage had been-- exit wounds were always worse than entrance wounds.

And then he shivered, jerking his hands away as if burned by his own body; the flesh had joined back together there too. It hurt, but--

Oh jeeze... this is beyond weird, this is just… I don't understand. WHY am I all healed up? Mutely the young magician raised his eyes to his companion's face; she had backpedaled a few feet away by now, her hands clutching each other tightly. "Aoko? Aoko, don't freak out on me, please--?" He must have sounded pleading enough, since she nodded silently and then reached towards him again, her own fingertips barely grazing the puckered, newly healed skin.

"How--?" Bewildered, she sat down on the bed beside him; he shifted a little closer to the headboard as she stripped away the tape and gauze from his ribs, her hands trembling faintly. Kaito kept his own hands flat on the bed behind him, propping himself up; but as the last pad was peeled away, he could tell by Aoko's swiftly indrawn breath and the raw feeling on his skin that the results were the same. He dared a glance; Yep. Looks about three weeks old. Ooooookay, we're going to be hearing either the background music to a Shimizu Takashi horror film or the Twilight Zone theme or something like that any minute now--

Aoko was staring at him with an expression that shuttled back and forth between astonishment, near-fright, confusion and suspicion over and over again; she opened her mouth and then closed it, clearly not knowing quite what to say. Kaito blinked at her. "Did-- did I ever tell you about how we Phantom Thieves have amazing Psychic Healing Powers? They come with the cape and monocle..." he asked, the joke wobbling almost as badly as his voice.

Heh-- guess that steadied her a bit, he thought, watching as her shocked face shifted into immanent Death-By-Mop mode. Wish I could say the same for me. Something's happened to me and I don't know what it is, I can't even begin to guess what it is, and I don't know where to start--

--oh, and now Aoko's gonna thwack me, too-- Kaito held up a hand (his left one, he noted rather wildly) to fend her off as she reached for a book from his nightstand. "Aaack! Okay, okay-- I'll be good." She dropped the book, but looked slightly calmer; he had noticed before that blowing off a little steam tended to do that for her. The young thief shook his head, reaching up to run his hand across his ribs and marveling at the ticklish, nearly painless sensation there; he shook his head in wonder. "It's really healed, isn't it?"

She glowered at him. "It looks that way. Kaito--? You have to know SOME reason it'd heal like that-- it couldn't just-- just-- I mean, out of the blue like that-- when my dad got shot it looked awful for a long-- and your ribs and your shoulder look like--"

Even in his dumbfounded state he had to grin. "Aoko, you're babbling. Calm down, will you? I'm as staggered as you are, really; haven't a clue why the hell things've healed up like this. No, no really-- yeah, REALLY, I promise!" He moved the book out of her reach, wincing a little as he used his left arm again. "It still hurts, but… it's not bad. And it should still be bleeding when I use it; I just, I don't understand at all..."

The Inspector's daughter looked at him uncertainly from her place beside him. "But-- Kaito, are you-- Have you ever, well, done anything like this before?" At his definite headshake, her brows drew down and she scowled at his ribs, tracing her fingertips across the marks there again. "You'll have a scar-- you already HAVE a scar-- and that's what this looks like: like new scar tissue, like all the healing's been speeded up." She leaned closer, examining his shoulder now with her face nearly nose-to-collarbone. "And the muscle's all dimpled, but it, it's sort of growing back in, I think--"

He swallowed; the new skin was awfully sensitive, and her breath tickled him. "Yeah, it-- uh..." Kaito could feel a burn flooding through his face as his body paid attention. Really, really sensitive. Not that I mind, but-- He sat up a little straighter, and Aoko suddenly jerked back as she realized that she had been sort of draped across his bare chest. Her own cheeks flared, but the boy beside her noted with interest that she didn't pull back that far.

There was a small, slightly embarrassed silence; it ended when Kaito sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at his head. "I," he announced, "have had enough for tonight-- enough weirdness, enough stress, enough excitement, enough near heart-attacks. I've hit my limits and if anything else happens I'm gonna lose it, I swear. I think my brain just seized up." He cracked an eye open, looking balefully at the girl. "You?"

She slumped a bit, rubbing at her eyes with her palms. "Uh huh. We both need sleep, and I guess we can figure out what happened in the morning... Um, should I bandage you again, though? Just in case?"

In the end they decided between them that a light bandage on Kaito's shoulder wasn't a bad idea; the new muscle beneath the skin was tender enough that any pressure was painful. As she tore the last strip of tape from the dispenser, Aoko jerked slightly. "Ow!"

Kaito had been sitting very still and with his eyes closed, quite conscious (and trying not to be self-conscious about it) of how warm Aoko's hands were again now that they were no longer cold with shock; they really felt awfully nice, and that plus his recent shock was making him a little dizzy. Or maybe it was the blood-loss? At her exclamation, though, he regretfully opened his eyes. "Now what? Oh--" She had caught her finger on the little serrated metal strip at the tape-dispenser's end, the bit that you used to tear the tape; a single drop of blood beaded forth and ran down her hand as she pulled back in irritation-

-- and then both their jaws dropped…

Oh. Kaito swallowed hard.

… as they watched the tiny red cut close up before their eyes, sealing seamlessly shut.

Silence, except for two hearts beating rather erratically.

Eeep. Aoko too. Kaito's mind seemed to be swimming around in little, pointless circles as this last shock hit home with all the force of the Tokyo Tower falling onto his head, and he swallowed again. "Oookay, that's IT for the night, ladies and gentlemen; no encores, please. This show is CLOSED." Kaito simply fell over backwards where he sat, legs dangling off the side of the bed and hair in his eyes; beside him, Aoko kept staring at her finger as if expecting it to turn into something vicious.

Eyes distinctly glassy, she said in an oddly polite little voice: "Kaito? Did I-- did I just…?"

"Uh huh; you sure did. What'd it feel like?"

"…it tingled." She was still staring.

"'Tingled.' Fine." Kaito's voice was suddenly heavy and blurred with fatigue. "I have no idea why any of this is happening, I'm not going to think about it, my brain has just gone on *strike* for the next few hours and I... am now going to sleep." And with that the young thief dragged his pillow from beside him and placed it firmly over his face, shutting out the world. "Gdnht, 'hko." His voice was muffled but understandable and Aoko simply nodded, still looking blankly at her healed digit as she stood up and sort of zombie-walked towards the door.

"Right... me too. Um, good night, Kaito-- see you in the morning." The door closed behind her.

Kaito groaned softly beneath his pillow; his mind refused to make any sense of what had just happened, other than producing a kind of squeaking noise every time he tried to think. No good. Sleep, that was what was needed. Sleep was good; sleep was wonderful. You didn't have to think when you were asleep. He reached over blindly and turned off his lamp, dragging himself beneath the covers and pulling the sheet over his head, pillow and all.

Maybe if I hide under here it'll all go away for a while... I can handle Nakamori and his goon squad, assassins in black, robots, stupid British detectives with tweed fetishes and even the Shrimp, but I can NOT handle any more of this tonight. Today. Whatever. I have had it.

As unconsciousness yanked him down into its depths with welcome, gratifying speed, the magician's last bleary thought was that at least he hadn't had to explain the note... well, not yet, anyway.

* * *

In the guest-room bed, Nakamori Aoko lay with all the lights burning, staring silent and troubled at her unmarked finger until sleep swallowed her up at last like a great black mouth.

* * *

"AaaaaaaaaAAACHOO!!! sniffle…" A tousled head established itself among the tangled blankets of the Yoshida's couch. Rita Saunders rubbed her bleary eyes with one hand and then her forehead; God, she hated colds.

Bleah. My nose is running like a faucet... What time is it, anyway? Ayumi ought to be up-- Still half-submerged in the covers the American student listened for sounds of Ayumi-activity, but all was quiet. No TV noises, no sounds of refrigerator-rummaging, none of the usual clatter that came with an eight-year-old's morning routine. Now slightly worried, Rita frowned; the little girl hadn't caught her cold, had she? Maybe she had better check… Groaning, the young woman managed to drag herself out from her comfortable nest. She yawned widely, scratching at an insect-bite on one wrist and stumbled down the hall to check on her charge.

The child was sleeping deeply; a gentle hand laid against her forehead felt no fever. Maybe she was just worn out-- I'll just let her sleep as long as she needs to. If she IS getting a cold, that might fend it off. And if she acts sick when she gets up, we are NOT going to the park to play Frisbee like I said we would, no matter what. Her mom'll be on my case if I let her play outside while she's sick-- and I wouldn't do that to Ayumi anyway. Rita liked the gradeschooler quite a lot; the little girl reminded her of her own little sister at that age, all sparks and vinegar. She scratched at her light brown hair, making it stand on end as she wandered back towards the kitchen; the counter clock said that it was a little past eight. Oh well… I can make a bite of breakfast and get last night's dishes done while she snoozes.

There was a small radio by the microwave; Rita turned it to the local American music station to listen while she fixed toast and a couple of eggs. It wasn't that she disliked Japanese music-- she was a fairly rabid J-pop fan, actually, since she and her family had been in the country since she was twelve-- but it was nice to hear things in English now and then, so long as they weren't Country/Western. Keeping the volume level low, she began rummaging around the counter and shelves as lyrics from a vaguely familiar 80's band broke the morning silence:

The days grow shorter and the nights are getting long--
Seems like we're running out of time...
Every day it seems much harder telling right from wrong
--you have to read between the lines.

Rita kun knotted her bathrobe-tie a little tighter, pulling out a butter-knife. --Where's the bread? Oh, right, pantry... Mmm; cool music this morning, even if it's sort of ancient... Sort of ominous-sounding too, but hey, all those prehistoric Big Hair bands had been like that, hadn't they? Dramatic to a fault.

Keep up your courage, keep up your faith, baby--
You can make another day,
Make it worth the price we pay...

Two slices of toast and a few rather runny yolks later the young woman swallowed the last of her coffee, looked resignedly at the small collection of dirty dishes in the sink and shrugged; they weren't going to do themselves, so... She scuffled on a pair of old dishwashing gloves and went to work. In the meantime, the radio sang along:

The Good Book says it's better to give than to receive;
I do my best to do my part.
Nothing in my pocket and there's nothing up my sleeve--
I keep my magic in my heart.
Don't get discouraged, don't be afraid,
You know I'm counting on you;
You know what you've got to do.

There wasn't much to do, not really-- a few bowls, some glasses, a larger number of cups than she'd expect; nothing worth loading the dishwasher up with, that was for sure. As she up-ended a red HelloKitty mug, though, something dropped from the sticky dregs to land with a rattle in the sink--

Oh; another one of Ayumi's juggling-stones... They were showing up all over the place lately as the child got better at her hobby. With soapy plastic-gloved fingers Rita held the almond-sized stone up to the light curiously; this was one of the nicer ones, utterly crystal-clear and as shiny as a piece of ice-- in fact, ice was what it looked like.

Hmmm-- pretty little thing; quartz? Wonder where she got it? Oh well, in with the others it goes... Aiming carefully, the young American lobbed it across the kitchen into a cracked green-tea cup on the lowest counter that Ayumi had claimed as her own for storing 'things'; little kids were real packrats sometimes and the gradeschooler was no exception. There. I'll make sure she knows where it is when she wakes up.

The last chorus of the song (they were playing the extended dance mixes this morning, which was kind of nice) made a quiet, rhythmic backdrop for Rita to dry the freshly-washed dishes to. Decent backbeat and base there-- good vocals too. What was the name of that group-- 'Tramp' or something? No, 'Triumph.' They're probably all old and bald by now.  She began stacking cups back on the shelf.

Fight the Good Fight every moment,
Every minute, every day;
Fight the Good Fight every moment,
It's the only way.

As the last of the dishes went up she yawned and then sneezed once more; the American's sinuses were still so stuffed with cold that she felt like she had a bag over her head. So sleepy... Could take a nap 'til Ayumi gets up, I guess-- She peeled off the rubber gloves and dropped them into the sink, rubbing her aching temples. Still no sign of her waking up; better make the best of it and--

A wordless exclamation from down the hallway pulled the young woman back from any immanent nap-prospects; it sounded like her charge had finally woken up. "So much for that idea," she groused to herself. "Ayumi-chan? Ready for breakfast?" She made her way down the hall and stuck her head around the doorway. "Do you want cereal or something hot? I can fix toast and eggs if you-- what's wrong? Ayumi-chan?"

The little girl was sitting up in bed with her hair sticking every which way, scowling in annoyance and dismay at a scrap of creased paper. At Rita's question her eyes jerked wide open for a second and she quickly crumpled the offending object in her small fist. "N-nothing, I-- it's fine. I just... never mind. I sort of missed something..." She offered a smile to the young woman, obviously attempting to change the subject.

Rita was not to be dissuaded, cold or no cold. "Are you sure? Does this have anything to do with our going to the park later?" She eyed the child curiously. "If you don't feel good we can stay home and watch cartoons or something, you know…"

"Oh… noooo, I'm okay; I was just sorta hoping that-- that a couple more of my friends could go too. But I don't think they can..." She looked a little downcast for a second more, then sighed and stuffed the wad of paper into her pajama pocket. "I'm awfully hungry," she remarked as she climbed out of bed; "Can you make me some eggs and stuff, please? AND can I have some cereal too?" Without waiting for an answer she was out the door and down the hallway, still chattering away at a rapid clip about the proposed trip to the park.

Rita blinked once, wondering what she had just missed; ??? She sure SOUNDS okay. Oh well, whatever… With a final sneeze she followed her charge back towards the kitchen.

*

**sluuuuuurp**

Ayumi tilted her cereal bowl up and drank off the last of the milk; from behind a tissue Rita-kun rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and blew her nose. "Ayumi-chan, that is (sniffle) NOT a polite way to eat your cereal, you know--"

The child frowned. "But if I just throw it away it's wasteful," she pointed out, wiping her chin with a paper napkin. "And besides, it's good. Look, the marshmallows made it all sort of purpley-pink--"

Her American friend chuckled. "So I see…" she remarked, eyeing the stain around the little girl's mouth; rather sheepishly Ayumi wiped it away as well. "You'd better scoot and get washed up and dressed; didn't you say your friends were supposed to meet us here at ten? It's… twenty 'til ten already, so…" She reached for another tissue.

"EEP! Okay!" With that, the gradeschooler was out of her chair and down the hall before her spoon had finished rattling in her bowl. Behind her, Rita-kun blew her nose for the umpteenth time that morning and followed her down the hall, muttering something about a shower.

Back in her room, the girl pulled on a weekend sort of outfit of shorts and a t-shirt, stuffing her favorite deck of cards into one pocket and the morning's note into the other. Before it went in, though, she carefully unwadded it and read it through one more time regretfully:

OHAYO, AYUMI-CHAN-- SORRY WE FELL ASLEEP ON YOU LIKE THAT; ARIGATO FOR HIDING US SO CLEVERLY! WE'RE GOING TO GO GET A LITTLE REST AND TAKE CARE OF A FEW THINGS, BUT DON'T WORRY-- I'LL MEET YOU AT THE USUAL TIME AND PLACE, OKAY? WE CAN TALK SOME MORE THEN. JAA!

There was no signature, but three tiny little sketches followed the words-- a squiggle that looked vaguely like a mop, a cat paw-print and what was unmistakably a playing-card. Ayumi sighed in frustration; if only she hadn't fallen asleep too! "I hope Hei-san is feeling better," she whispered dolefully to the note as she smoothed it out and folded it carefully prior to tucking it away; "I wonder if Aoko-san kissed him again?" The memory of his astonished face made her giggle and feel rather smug inside; if it hadn't been for HER, after all, Aoko-san wouldn't have known where Hei-san was and then she wouldn't have been able to kiss him in the *first* place.

Ayumi felt that they rather owed her a "Thank you" or two, all things considered.

She stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror as she brushed her dark hair and adjusted her usual hairband. The child fingered her hair thoughtfully; her mom had always had it cut shortish for her, but she had really liked how Aoko-san's hair was all over her shoulders the night before. Maybe she should let it grow? She wasn't a baby anymore, and if she wanted she could change how she looked--

"OW!" A sudden, sharp little pain in her right instep made the gradeschooler jump as she shifted sideways to view her profile. Hopping, she grabbed at her bare foot and peered down; there was something small and shiny caught there, like broken bottle-glass… Oh--! I know what THIS is… and it's all over the floor. Ayumi carefully tugged the offending scrap of-- what WAS it, anyway? It was supposed to be part of a jewel, but it was shaped so funny...

She spent a hurried minute or so crawling around on her floor, gathering up little, glinting pieces of what looked remarkably like dark green glass. They were everywhere; the Pandora Gem had shattered like an almond-shell beneath a hammer, and that was what it resembled when you really looked at it. Ayumi stared down at the scant little pile of broken bits, turning over the largest one with a fingertip; twice as long as her pinky-fingernail, it was most of half of the stone, but…

… but it was hollow, and quite thin. It really did look like an almond-shell, one made of very dark green glass; puzzled, she tucked it into her pocket for later consideration and poured the rest of the bits into the corner of her sock-drawer. They'd be safe there.

A loud *BZZZZZZZTT!!* announced the arrival of the other kids downstairs; hurriedly scooping up a pair of socks and slamming the drawer shut, Ayumi hopped down the hall on one leg as she attempted to put them on AND beat Rita-kun to the intercom before somebody (Genta-kun, probably) wore the button out. As she caught her balance, it occurred to her that she was going to have to keep awfully close-mouthed about Hei-san's secret around Conan-she had promised, after all. And Conan-kun didn't HAVE to know that she had had Kaitou Kid as a visitor for the past few days, did he?  She had managed to keep him hidden while they had watched movies, after all.

It promised to be an interesting day...

Ayumi paused for a microsecond in her hopping to scoop up a handful of her juggling-stones on the way past the kitchen shelves; she could use them to practice in the park later on. Idly scratching at the place on her wrist where Spot-chan had scratched her the night before (it itched), the little girl hit the intercom-button and greeted her friends, never once noticing that not even the faintest, palest trace of the scratch remained to be seen on her unmarred skin.

* * *

Several kilometers away towards the center of the city and an hour or so earlier...

...it had been time for what Edogawa Conan, once Kudo Shinichi, had dubbed the 'Cooking With Rin' Show. He had also (in the privacy of his own mind, fortunately) dubbed it the Comedy of Errors after an evening spent watching a really badly-done version of one of Shakespeare's plays at his and Rin's former high School; Sonoko had, of course, gotten the Courtesan's part.

Right now Rin was being patient; shaking her head, she was pointing out something from a cookbook to her current student, who tapped her teeth irritably with one manicured nail-tip. At her raised and disbelieving eyebrow, the little girl/young woman shook her head even more firmly. "Mom, just trust me on this, please: you can TOO burn boiled eggs. Remember what happened last week with the smoked fish? The recipe book was right then too, wasn't it?"

Kisaki Eri looked mulish. "But--"

Her daughter sighed. "Look, if you just remember to take the pot off the burner when the timer buzzes you'll be fine, right? Just pay attention and you won't have half the mess to clean up that you usually do…"

"Not to mention the smoke or the fire-extinguisher foam either," put in Conan helpfully from where he was watching in the doorway, leaning with his arms crossed against the jamb. Eri shot him a dirty look as only a lawyer can.

"ShinEEEEEchi..." muttered Rin warningly from the side of her mouth, her pony-tail switching like that of a real horse; the former Mouri Ran had her long hair tied back (to keep it from catching fire, considering her pupil's level of skill) and was wearing an oversized apron from her previous, taller life; it hung nearly to her ankles. "You're not helping."

He rolled his eyes, fighting down a grin; she was cute when she was annoyed. "I know, I know, but I'm hungry. Can't I just--" The boy made as if to reach past them both for a box of cookies sitting on a shelf; Rin smacked the back of his hand with a spoon and a distinctly Ran-neechan look, scowling ferociously while her mother watched in bemusement. "Ow! C'mon Ran, it's getting late; we're supposed to meet everybody at Ayumi's at ten--" They had barely made it back from Professor Agasa's in time to keep Eri-san from burning the place down with her boiled-over version of 'breakfast.' Rin had taken immediate command, banishing the household's two males from the kitchen and ordering her mother around with a severity that would have done justice to a woman a half-dozen times her apparent age.

And now she raised an eyebrow, starting to look like she was boiling over herself. "Shinichi, would you rather wait a few minutes or eat what Mom cooked already?" Rin gestured with her spoon at the pot of overcooked rice and the suspiciously-mottled eggs that sat forlornly on the counter, awaiting their final fate in the trash. The boy sighed and shook his head regretfully. "Fine, then; you can wait like the rest of us. Why don't you go catch the news or something?"

Grumbling, the former teenager shuffled reluctantly around the corner, casting a longing look over his shoulder at the kitchen as he went. 'Watch the news,' huh? Not with Ojisan glued to the Sunday morning horserace; guess I could log onto the net and read the headlines there-- The computer was already up and running, due to Eri's habit of checking her email while she was still groggy and barely awake; it was sort of her version of Morning Coffee.

Small, swift fingers clicked their way across the keyboard as the boy's negligible weight made the chair squeak slightly. Mmmm… got a rash of afterhours store break-ins in the main downtown area, three carjackings in the outskirts-- they'd better look into gang initiations for those-- and a couple of assault-and-batteries in the shopping district. Vehicle theft rates are up a bit; wonder if that's due to competition between theft rings or just some new area of opportunity? Let's see what else is showing up... He scrolled through a few pages, absentmindedly shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they slid down. Here we go-- more speculations regarding the latest Kaitou Kid break-in. Boring; just the usual bunch of rehashed old case info, rumors and speculation. He grinned a small, cocky smile to himself as his fingers flew across the keys. I could tell them a few things, couldn't I?

And speaking of Kid, I wonder what he thought of my little note last night?  The grin broadened just a bit.

The news was disappointingly free from murders this morning (well, disappointing if you were Kudo Shinichi, anyway); the police seemed to have everything well in hand. There WAS one little Kid-related tidbit of a rumor that Inspector Nakamori Ginzo had gone into 'seclusion' due to a recent attempt on his life, but you never knew how much of that sort of thing was just heresay... unless, of course, you had been privy to the little discussion that he and Rin had heard the night before.

What was it he said?  The conversation ran through his mind as he clicked over to the World News section, reading it with only half of his attention. "If I hadn't called you, your dad would've gone into Police HQ this morning and gotten himself shot or blown up"..."Those bastards in black are gunning for him, Aoko, just like they're gunning for me"..."and if I hadn't called, he'd have died and I couldn't let that happen, not to you or to anyone." He sounded pretty damned sincere for somebody who Nakamori's been trying to catch since his first heist. What else was it he said? Oh, right-- "They've killed enough fathers."

I… wonder what I would have done, if that had happened to MY tousan?

The rapid patter of mouse-clicks faltered, slowed and stopped as his thoughts turned inwards, a slight frown of concentration finding its way to his face. Kuroba Kaito, what kind of person *are* you, really? So far your motives have been anything but clear; I know you're looking for revenge for your father's death, but there's more here than that...

His thoughts ran back to their conversation in the park; in his mind's eye he stared up from ground-level at the damp figure high (but not as high as Kid would have liked) above him in the branches and listened once again : "You want to know the main reason why I do what I do? It's not because they took my dad away from me… It's not because one day almost ten years ago a little boy came home from school and found out he'd never see his father again; it's not even because a good man died-- and he WAS a good man, no matter what he did for a living... Revenge? Well, maybe that's why I started out doing what I do, but now... the bastards that began this whole thing… if I let them get away with what they've done, I'm no better than they are. My father wasn't their only victim. And if you know anything at all about me, you know I don't let people get hurt if I can help it… I've got my standards too."

He shivered slightly despite the warmth of the Mouri apartment and the brilliance of the sunlight pouring in the windows; "… the bastards that began this whole thing…" If I'm going to be fair, I've got to remember that I'm not the only person who's suffered because of the Black Organization. I've got to remember that… --and he glanced longingly at the phone beside the computer-- … no matter how much I'd love to turn Kuroba in. All my instincts are yelling 'get him!', but there's a much bigger picture to consider here first-- Justice, not merely Just Desserts. Even if he IS a major pain in the ass.

The young man inside the child's body let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan, staring abstractedly at the screen before him; sometimes it was pure hell, being fair. But that, he thought wryly, is the difference between me and the bad guys; and come to think of it, it's the basic difference between Kid-- Kuroba-- and the bad guys too; he knows who I am as well, and he could have sold me down the river without a second thought. But he didn't.

Dammit, Kid, we need to TALK!

With an inner aaargh of frustration, the boy shoved his irritation to one side and pulled up a link that he would never have done before Ran-neechan had become Rin-kun (just in case) and logged into a very, very secure account under a very anonymous name to check his own, personal email. He didn't do it often (once more, just in case), but with a heist just past, Heiji'd be sure to be burning up the internet. And sure enough, there was an email waiting for him among the usual clutter and internet debris.

---------------------------------------------
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]

Hey, slacker; whenya going to get off your ass and do the writeup? Your turn.

Been short on cases here, bored to death; Okan got fed up with me mopin around (she said) and put me to work . Anything going on your end? Heard about that thing with the hotel down in Chiyoda last month, messy tho not much of a challenge, good thing you got Div One's cops trained to run asshats like that girl's boyfriend down for ya.  Nothin since then, though?

You & R okay? Been too quiet, got me worried-- you're either s bored as i am or assdeep in something I'll see in the news. KKid stuff you both down a toilet r something?

Gotta go, practice in 30. EMAIL ME next time dammit, hate texts. An getcher ass in gear and do the writeup so I can log it. Stay safe.
HH
---------------------------------------------

"Shinichi? Breakfast--" Closing the email, he abruptly became aware that the rather smoky atmosphere had been replaced by more appetizing scents. His stomach growled as he slid from his chair to land on the floor with a light thump! prior to hurrying towards the kitchen.

Finally. Hey-- looks like Eri-san's actually produced something edible! It was indeed Kisaki Eri who, a disheveled strand of hair falling into her eyes, placed the platter of only-slightly-burned bacon and cutlets on the table; Rin hovered behind her with a large bowl of rice in her hands, watching with satisfaction. About time… but I'll believe it when I taste it. That beef stew of hers looks pretty innocuous too, but all it takes is one bite and… He shuddered internally; where Ran's mother had gotten the idea that copious amounts of wasabi and Chinese Five Spice Powder actually complimented beef stew was a mystery beyond his powers to solve.

Urrrgh; never again. Thought I was going to die after I ate that… that… well, you couldn't call it FOOD. Being clubbed over the head by Gin or Vodka would've been a mercy at that point.

Breakfast wasn't bad, if not up to Mouri Ran's standards; but Mouri Ran was currently having difficulties reaching the kitchen supplies as well as the top of the stove, and you could only do so much while standing on a stool. Eri-san was just going to have to learn to manage, that was all-- and everybody else was just going to have to survive the process. As he stared resentfully up at Mouri Kogoro (whose greater reach had just enabled him to snitch the last piece of bacon from beneath Shinichi's reaching chopsticks) the boy wondered silently if Kaitou Kid had to do his own cooking.

Heh; he probably lives off stolen ramen packages or some such. Sounds almost appealing until you consider what happened the last time I tried to make ramen… He had never actually thought that you could set anything on fire in a microwave, but apparently he had been wrong. THAT had resulted in Mouri temporarily forgetting just who he actually was and bopping him on the head again, which had almost ended up with Ojisan getting a Conan-sized tennis-shoe in a place that-- well, would have definitely stimulated his memory. Hopefully, anyway. It hadn't quite come to that, but it had been close…

"Ran? Uh, Rin?" Speak of the devil-- Mouri was talking now, his mouth full; he took a gulp of his tea. "What're you doing today? Can you pick up my suits down at the cleaner's? Some of your mom's too--" He dug in one pocket for his wallet, still chewing; several coins fell out and bounced on the floor beside him but he ignored them.

Rin shrugged, swallowing before she spoke. "Okay; we're just going to the park today. That American girl that's taking care of Ayumi is meeting some friends of hers there and we're going to play Frisbee for a little while. We can stop by the cleaner's on the way home… but it'll cost you some ice-cream money." Her father looked wounded (his cheapskate side wasn't quite dead yet, though it was slowly losing ground under his wife's influence) but grudgingly added a little more to the money he was counting out. Across the table Eri-san chuckled under her breath and he sent her a glare.

"You play too much," he grumbled. "I know you're, uh, not like you used to be, but-- dammit, Ran, your mom made me vacuum yesterday. I'm a detective, not a housekeeper, and--" He scowled like a thundercloud as Eri chuckled again. His glare switched over to the boy beside his daughter as Mouri Kogoro muttered "This is all YOUR fault!" just like clockwork; everyone at the table had expected it.

His target merely shrugged the comment off. He had gotten over a lot of his guilt in the past months by watching Ran relax into her new life as Rin; she had taken to it with much greater ease and much less frustration than he had, almost embracing her second childhood. Sometimes Shinichi wondered why-- had it been that hard, being the person she was? Maybe; taking care of her father as well as his Conan-self had been quite a burden, and when you added in schoolwork and impending adulthood and the worry of just where the hell one Kudo Shinichi had vanished to… maybe she was happier like this. Bizarre thought, but possible.

As long as she's happy with it, I can handle him blaming me. I still haven't given up on Ai finding us a cure, but… being Conan's not so bad anymore. Not great, but not so bad. Not having to keep my damned secret like I did all that time makes one huge hell of a world of difference.

Rin was answering her father now, ignoring his last accusation. "Well, what am I supposed to be doing?" she asked practically, munching on a piece of toast. "I look like a little girl; if I want to keep myself and Shinichi-- AND you both, by the way-- safe and unsuspicious-looking, I have to act like a little girl too." She reached for a second piece, scattering crumbs, and smiled up at her father mischievously. "Besides, didn't Megure-keibu compliment you on what a bright little niece you had the other day? He said I must take after the Tokyo branch of the family." Shinichi bit back a grin as he noticed how Ran had cleverly omitted Megure-san's quick glance towards Eri during the comment. Mouri, on the other hand, subsided with a slightly mollified grunt.

"Kaasan, did you need me to pick up anything else while we're out? And what are YOU two doing today?" She wiped her hands on her napkin and slid down from her chair, gathering plates as she went; Shinichi stopped dawdling over his empty plate and hastily hopped down to help her.

Kisaki Eri glanced a little sideways at her husband; humor gleamed in the sharp eyes behind the glasses, making the older woman look remarkably like her small daughter for a second. "As a matter of fact, your father and I have been invited to spend the day out with some old friends of mine from college-- Ran, do you remember the Hamehotos?" One corner of her lips twitched before she hid her smile behind her cup.

The little girl beside her raised one eyebrow in a most unchildlike look of dawning understanding. "The ones with the big estate? And the golf course? And doesn't Hamehoto-san like to play Mah Jong?" She looked pointedly at her father, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "Right, those Hamehotos... Have fun, then..."

Mouri cleared his throat uneasily, flushing. "Rmmph. Errr, yes. We'll be back a little late, then-- Come on, Eri, we don't want to be late!" The detective pushed away from the table and more or less fled the room as his co-breakfasters tried not to laugh too obviously.

A little later the two shorter members of the Mouri household were pelting out the door and down the stairs in a rush; they had just enough time to make it to Ayumi's if they hurried. "Skateboard?" Rin glanced at her companion inquiringly, tucking an errant strand behind one ear. The girl was wearing one of her favorite outfits today, a shorts-and-top combo in red with touches of white; it brought out highlights in her tied-back hair and made the pink of her little-girl face seem even brighter. "If we're in a hurry--"

He chuckled. "Speed demon," he teased, then grew a little more serious. "But if you don't mind, no-- I don't want to do anything to call attention to either of us today, okay?" He settled the skateboard more securely in his backpack, glancing around. It had been easy to feel fairly safe up in the Mouri's apartment, but down here on the sidewalk...

Rin eyed him thoughtfully; he could nearly see the wheels turning inside her head. "You're still worried about… what we heard last night, aren't you? That's why you're so set on hanging around Ayumi today: you want to watch out for her."

He nodded grimly, watching the traffic as they walked. When he glanced back at her, Conan's eyes (and they were 'Conan's' out there, not 'Shinichi's') held a wariness and tightness that had been missing for the last few months… ever since he had stopped being alone in his small, time-warped world. "I-- just don't want to take any chances," he said softly, looking away again. "If they're watching him, they might be watching US. And if they killed his father..."

Rin's forehead creased; her small, heart-shaped face looked troubled as she bit her lip. "Um, Shin-- I mean Conan-kun? I've been thinking about that... Do you remember-when you talked to him in the park, did he say WHERE his father was killed?"

The boy frowned; he shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he ran through the conversation again. "No... just that they had killed him. He mentioned coming home from school and finding out that his dad had died, so it had to be daytime… Why?"

She looked even more troubled; "Because… if his dad was killed while he was being the original Kaitou Kid, then that's one thing; but if he was killed while he was-- was just being his everyday self, whatever that was, then..."

Conan stopped walking.

"...then they knew who he was. And THAT means they probably know who the most likely person to be the new Kaitou Kid is too." He stared at her, horrified; she nodded grimly.

"DAMMIT!" the boy hissed out, making a grandmotherly type passing by on the sidewalk to his left cluck her tongue at him and look offended; he paid her no attention whatsoever, but grabbed Rin's hand and set off towards Ayumi's at a bone-jarring pace. "I don't know whether we should keep the hell away from the idiot or try to contact him as soon as possible!" His fingers tightened on hers until she wiggled them in protest-- and then grabbed at his hand when he would have pulled away. "Uh, sorry. It's just--"

"I know, I know, you're worried; me too, but panicking won't get us anywhere." She sighed; "Look, Conan-kun? Let's just take it a bit at a time, okay? Today we're going to watch over Ayumi-kun, ne? We both know Kid's not going anywhere right now, not since he's hurt; and when we get back…" she smiled at him, faint but real; "When we get back, we can see if there's a Kuroba listed in the phone book, can't we?"

He blinked.

"Well, why not? If there is… or… do you think they'd have the phone-lines tapped?" Rin glanced up at the overhead power-lines as if she could see messages in the wires.

Conan ground his teeth in frustration. "It's more than possible, he replied grimly. "We may have to wait 'til Friday to talk to him-- at least we know one way of contacting him." He gave her a Shinichi-ish little smile back, all edges and intelligence. "Considering the note we left, he may try to contact us first. Who knows?"

"True."

They walked on a bit further at a slower pace, still hand-in-hand; now and then a passing adult would glance at them and smile over their preoccupied young faces and serious expressions, as well as the way that they held onto each other so closely. After a few minutes of silence, Conan's quiet voice broke the silence: "Ran"?

Not 'Rin', but 'Ran'. The girl glanced at him. "Hm?"

His voice was very quiet. "Do… you remember, when the Twin Towers building caught fire and you tied that fire hose to you, grabbed me up and jumped? When you saved our lives?"

"… yes… Why?"

The boy turned to stare back out at the busy streets again, his face in profile; the midmorning sun showed the bones of his face clearly, defining them and returning his countenance ever so slightly to what it had once been (and would one day be again.) "Dealing with anything that involves those Black Organization monsters… it's--" He paused a second, trying to find the words. "That's what this is beginning to feel like-- like jumping off of a high place, not knowing if what you're doing will save your life or kill you. What are we doing, getting mixed up in Kid's problems? I mean, why the hell are we even bothering to WARN this guy? He's a criminal! He's wanted internationally, he's involved an innocent kid in his stupid schemes, he's--"

"--he's a human being who's gotten himself into deep water, Shinichi, and you know it inside of you." Mouri Ran's voice was firmly there in Himitsu Rin's little-girl tones, there was no mistaking that. "No matter what he's done, I don't think he's a killer-- and he doesn't deserve what will happen to him if THEY get hold of him, criminal or not. Does he?"

"...No."

"Mmmhmmm; I didn't think so. And neither do you, or you wouldn't be so worried."

The rest of the walk to Ayumi's was spent in troubled silence, but neither let go of the other's hand until they had to.

* * *

"Mmmmphghble...??" A tousled dark head slowly emerged from beneath tumbled sheets.

...???... something… smells good... Blearily he opened his eyes.

OWWW; who turned up the @#$%! lights ?

Kaito moaned faintly and submerged again beneath the warm, wonderful, comfortable, sunshine-blocking covers of his bed; the world was way, WAY too bright for him just then... meeeeeeeeghh; don' wanna get up yet, mom... Everything receded back into a lovely, dark little coil of drowsing and nonthought, until something nudged at his senses again with a gentle, insistent elbow.

… mmph? His stomach growled. Rrrgh? Food? Without the aid of conscious thought one hand tugged the blanket down just enough that his nose could get a better sniff. Oooooo… food. Starving! As the caveman in the young magician's brain emerged from the depths and took charge, he yawned cavernously and crawled out sluggishly from beneath the covers.

RRRRGHH… sunlight's too bright... And the floor was awfully cold under his bare feet, too. But that wonderful, wonderful smell grabbed Kaito by the throat (well, the nose, actually) and dragged him forward as if by a leash. His mind had trudged up the scale of evolution to roughly Cro-Magnon level by the time he finished in the bathroom and made it to the stairs, rubbing his eyes against the overly-brilliant morning; as he stumbled down to ground-floor level, something kept nudging the faint remnants of intelligence still slumbering deep in his brain.

Uhhhhh… something I'm forgetting... never mind, food first... starving to death...think later...

Another huge yawn made him squint his eyes even harder as he wandered towards the kitchen, one hand hitching up his pants while the other scrabbled in his hair; he scratched at his shoulder irritably-- damned thing's itching like crazy this morning-- and blinked at the sight of Nakamori Aoko, devouring an enormous plate of scrambled eggs and fried ham in a decidedly businesslike fashion.

Right-- Aoko, yeah. Must be what I forgot. Food? As if she had read his mind she glanced up at him, chewing, and pointed with her chopsticks towards the stove; a plate lay there with a napkin covering it. Aoko, I love you. FOOD!

Conversation was both impossible and unnecessary for the next little while, as dishes clattered and stomachs were filled; at last Kaito pushed away from the table with a sigh of contentment. Aoko had graduated to sipping her tea; belatedly it occurred to her host that she seemed awfully quiet this morning...

He looked at her empty plate. Man, she put away a major chunk of groceries, didn't she? So did I. He was aware of her eyes resting on him from above the level of her cup as she raised it, and he scratched again rather self-consciously at the itchy places on his shoulder and side. He wasn't wearing a shirt-- the morning air felt good on his skin-- and he felt just the smallest bit of heat rising in the vicinity of his cheekbones at her steady regard. "What?" he asked jokingly to fill the silence; "Did I grow a second head or something overnight?"

She sat down her cup, swirling the dregs a bit. "No… you pulled off your bandages, though…"

Bandages?… oh. OH!  And that was when it hit him: He wasn't hurting-- and he had made it down the stairs on his own-- and she was right, the itching wasn't from beneath tape and gauze-- and (once more, with feeling) he wasn't hurting… he just itched.

He… just itched. No pain, no bleeding, nothing under his fingertips when he reached up wonderingly except the faint roughness and dimpling of scar-tissue, and mostly subcutaneous at that. !!!

As his stomach lurched with sudden shock, he heard Aoko say almost idly, "I burned my palm cooking a little while ago; it was funny, watching it heal up-- you could see the mark go from red to pink and back to normal without even making a blister." She held up her unmarked hand as if asking a question in class and Kaito reached across involuntarily to take it, examining the healthy skin as the night's realizations flooded back.

That's right; we both healed like-- like something out of a fantasy manga, like-- I don't know. What the hell's happened to us?!? His own hands were shaking just a bit as he let go of Aoko's wrist and she reached back to clasp them tightly; her own shook a little as well. "Kaito? Stop panicking, okay?" She gave him a slightly wobbly smile. "I've already done enough of that for both of us this morning."

Her fingers were cool in his. "Uhhh…." The young magician tried to collect his scattered thoughts, slowly allowing the rush of adrenaline and terror to subside. "Right." He sighed, letting go and slumping down a little in his chair before he looked back up with a woebegone face. "Aoko, I do NOT need stuff like this as soon as I wake up, not this early in the morning."

"It's past ten-- and at least I made breakfast and let you *eat* it first, you know," she answered quite calmly for her. One eyebrow went up as Kaito considered this before nodding. He leaned back, swallowing the remainder of his tea in one huge gulp and marveling at the sheer lack of pain as he held out his arm, flexing the fingers. He had been using it ever since he got up and not even thought about it, not even once.

"Kaito?" Aoko really WAS being awfully quiet, but there was an edge to her voice now. "I've been thinking about… about why this has happened to us, whatever it is-- and… do you ever remember healing like this before? Anytime at all?"

"Noooo…" Her friend scowled down at his empty cup, setting it soundlessly on the table. "Hell, I got scratched on the ankle by that little monster of yours at your birthday party, and I can tell you that those were still there the next day; had to put some stuff on 'em--" He leaned over, rolling up one pants-leg to check; when he straightened up, Kaito's face was almost comically wide-eyed. He looked at Aoko. "Gone. Not a trace left."

He twisted around a little then, peering at the back of his right bicep. "And no bruises from whacking into that statue the other night during the shootout…" He stared at his right palm. "No scrapes on my hand from that rooftop…" Now he tried to look over his shoulder at his upper back; "And… dammit, I can't see if that scrape's gone or not-- Aoko, do I have a big scratch just below my shoulderblade?" He craned his head a little further to the right, ducking below his own arm and trying to see--

Kaito became aware of a not-so-muffled snicker and looked up; Aoko had both her hands in front of her mouth, her eyes crinkled with laughter despite her nerves. She pointed a slightly shaky finger at him; "You look-- you look like s-somebody from a circus act--"

He blinked up at her from beneath his elbow and grinned. "Well, now you know why your dad has had so much trouble catching me-- 'Flexible' is my middle name." Straightening up, the young thief shook his head and peered again at his scarred shoulder.

She fought down another giggle and mock-glared back. "And here I always thought it would be something like 'Bakabaka'... Anyway, back to the subject. You're SURE nothing like this ever happened before? Ever, in any way at all?"

Her friend was examining the back of his right shoulderblade now with the aid of the teapot-lid, using the shiny steel as a mirror; he tilted it sideways, trying to get a better view. "Nope. Can't say I'm unhappy about it-- I mean, if something weird had to happen, healing up in record time a pretty sweet deal-- but it'd be nice to know the whys and wherefores, wouldn't it? Even us Phantom Thieves don't generally have super powers like... urk."

He had suddenly frozen in place, a blank expression on his face that slowly edged over into dawning horror. The Inspector's daughter looked at him fearfully, all humor draining away. "Kaito? Kaito, you've thought of something, haven't you? What is it?"

Kuroba Kaito tossed the teapot lid absentmindedly towards the teapot (where it landed with unerring precision, spinning into place with a tinny clatter); his eyes sought hers, full of alarm. "Aoko, WHAT have we both handled in the last day or so that had a reputation of, of weird stuff-- wild abilities and powers and all that sort of crap?"

She hesitated, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table and her chin on her palms; the young woman's dark hair fell around her face like a curtain. "The gem-- the Pandora Gem, you called it… You said there were stories about it, that it was supposed to--"

He interrupted her, standing up abruptly; his chair tipped over backwards and would have fallen if he hadn't made a quick grab at it. "--to make you immortal, invincible, all that legendary bullshit. Right." He stared down at her, his hands fisted and a slightly panicky look in his eyes. "I don't buy the immortality bit-- I bet if I got hit by a freight-train right now I'd be as dead as the next guy, but… do you think…?? I mean, could the Gem have--"

**BING-BONG**

**BING-BONG**

They both nearly jumped out of their skins with simultaneous squeaks before their brains identified the sounds as the doorbell. Eyes bugging out, Kaito was beginning to go into Full-Blown Panic Mode when it occurred to him that any bad guys would probably not ring the doorbell, and if it were the police they'd be announcing their presence with loudspeakers, helicopters overhead and Nakamori's screams of fury.

Aoko seemed to have reached the same conclusion; "You're supposed to be sick, baka, so go be sick! Here!!" She threw him the bath-robe he had left over the chair-back the day before; Kaito shrugged into it at warp-speed and dove for the couch in the main room, the one he always dozed on when he was ill. Aoko was already heading through the smaller outer room for the door, calling out "Be with you in a minute!" as she went.

Crap, crap, crap; who the hell IS it? If it's the Shrimp, I'm gonna stuff him into a trashcan head-first and take the next train to Osaka-- it's nice and quiet in Osaka. Osaka sounds like a GREAT place to visit this time of year.

**BING-BONG BING-BONG**

"Coming!" sang out Aoko, casting a worried glance at Kaito over her shoulder; he was busy arranging things to give the appearance of illness-- a scattering of wadded-up tissues across the quilt he had thrown over himself, a couple of books on the floor beside the couch, a bottle of aspirin hurriedly grabbed from a drawer and tossed onto the nearest end-table--

He gave her a nod, then sank down beneath the quilt and thought hard about being sick. Okay, let's see, nausea and a bit of fever, maybe a headache for verisimilitude. Sounds doable.

Okay, she was at the door now and out of view; settling his face into a semblance of groggy illness, Kaito rumpled the covers a bit more and curled up, listening...

The door opened. There was a moment of shocked silence on Aoko's part, ending in a startled "Uhh--- O-Ohai… yo?"

The answer came easily in familiar, smooth tones with a strong accent that came from nowhere near Japan. "Ohaiyo, Nakamori-kun; I've brought you your homework… and Kuroba-kun's too, of course."

Oh shit. Like I needed this… If this is a joke, God, it's not funny.

He could hear Aoko's voice fighting for control as she answered, "Um, that's-- that's awfully nice of you, Hakuba-kun; please, come in..."

Kaito groaned internally. Oh well; at least I won't have to fake the nausea now.

* * *

Hakuba Saguru was a suspicious sort of person. That is, he wasn't the kind of young man who caused people to become suspicious-- no, he was the kind of young man who considered everybody else to be suspicious. Well, almost everybody. In his opinion, it was the rare human being who wasn't guilty of something.

It wasn't so much that he was a dyed-in-the-wool cynic or anything (although he was, of course); it was just that his intellect was much stronger than his patience, which led to a rather dim view of the human race in general. This was bolstered by a tendency towards clinical thought, a truly profound grasp of logic and (regrettably) what some might consider a near-total lack of a sense of humor; add all of this together and you had one Hakuba Saguru, detective at large.

(He did actually have a sense of humor, of course, and was far less sure of himself than he seemed; it was just that, well... sometimes coping-mechanisms kind of took on a life of their own and then took over entirely, if you didn't really have a good reason to fight back. Hakuba was aware of this-- he just didn't really know what to do about it. And there were days when he really wished that he did.)

His half-British heritage and gaijin good looks made him a prime object of interest to his female classmates; he was well aware of this, and when he had stopped by the house belonging to Aoko's friend Keiko a smile or two had been enough to fluster the girl. His suggestion that he take Keiko's notes and homework handouts over to Nakamori-kun had been well received-- Keiko was an inveterate matchmaker and had been quite happy to nudge things along. The biggest problem had simply been to get her not to come along with him, but Hakuba had managed to dodge that issue and escape unaccompanied and relatively unscathed.

And now Nakamori Aoko was staring at him from the Kuroba house doorway, an astonished look on her rather pretty, pink-flushed face; her hair was in disarray and she was wearing a rather disreputable kitchen apron as well as a bathrobe and pajama set that looked to belong to someone slightly taller (at least five centimeters) and heavier-built (several kilos, definitely) than her; Kuroba's mother, perhaps? It was his house, after all...

Kuroba...

Now THERE was a suspicious person. Hakuba was virtually certain that his classmate was, in actuality, Kaitou Kid-- but that little certainty wasn't enough for an arrest by the police, not nearly enough. He had to be SURE, he had to actually capture him red-handed-- nothing less would do to assuage the blows that Kid had made to his pride in the past. Kid, Kuroba, one and the same; Hakuba Saguru was positive of it.

Hah; that and several hundred yen could get you a cup of coffee.

So his current plan was simply to keep his guard up, to stay aware and alert for any little mistakes the thief might make; sooner or later it would all come down to the inevitable failing of all criminal minds, complacency. No matter how good Kuroba was (and as much as it rankled him Hakuba had to admit that Kuroba WAS good, the best by far that he had run across as yet), eventually he would slip up and history would reward his patience.

Sooner or later...

Like now, perhaps?

There was, perhaps, a tiny little part of Hakuba that just barely-- barely-- hoped that the chase would not end just yet. His world held a huge amount of dull boredom to balance out the sharpness of his mind, and the puzzle and pursuit of the Phantom Thief kept him entertained beyond anything else he currently knew. When 1412 at last fell, the detective wanted the end of his career to be swift, certain, and a triumph. Sad, really, that Kid was so unwilling to cooperate, but Hakuba would persevere; it'd make the end all that much sweeter.

(though that fragment of him really didn't want the chase to end, not yet, not yet... it was just too much fun, for a given value of 'fun.')

He had listened to with great interest to the radio transmissions during Friday night's museum heist, all the while fuming internally at Nakamori's refusal to allow his personal attendance. He had tried, but the stupid man had turned down his offer of help. It always amazed the young detective that anyone so obviously incompetent could have risen to the rank of Inspector; why, the man couldn't even tell a suspect's exact height and weight upon sighting them! And he had had to call three times to even speak to Nakamori, which really was a bit too much.

The frantic, half out-of-breath announcement by some unknown police flunky that Kaitou Kid had taken a bullet or two during his escape had evoked a number of responses in Hakuba, some more unexpected than others. There was, of course, a sense of righteous satisfaction in the thought that the thief should at last be paying the piper for all of the dances he had led; there was an edge of excitement thrilling along his nerves (finally, FINALLY there'd be something provable-- it was rather hard to hide or explain away a bullet-wound, and surely the fool hadn't gotten himself killed, of course not.)

But there was also an odd, unnerving twinge somewhere in the region of his stomach that felt uncomfortably like… regret? Alarm, perhaps? Even worry?

Foolishness, of course. Not that he wanted Kuroba dead-- if he was dead, how could Hakuba catch him?

Hence the homework drop-off and the visit to the Kuroba residence, a place that he had certainly never expected to set foot in (except, possibly, during a post-arrest inspection or some such; he was virtually certain that the thief had to have some sort of lab or hideout or workroom in the building… and ohhh, how his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing it at last!) But here he was.

The sacrifices one has to make… I suppose I can deal with Kuroba's suburban bit of clutter in order to really see if he's injured or not; that policeman's transmission was pretty definite-- 1412 certainly seemed to have been hit. As he smiled into the girl's startled face he kept one hand tucked into his right pocket, fingering the items that would help seal the thief's doom.

Let's just get this show on the road, as Kuroba-kun would say, shall we?

And now he was smiling politely at Nakamori Aoko as he was ushered inside. Hmph-- not a bad place, I suppose; bigger than I would have thought. I've seen it enough times from the outside, certainly, as recently as the night of Aoko-kun's party. I suppose it's well enough. As he politely slipped out of his shoes in the genkan and into a set of house-scuffs, his attention was caught by a large portrait hanging on the wall nearby.

"Kuroba-kun's father, I suppose?" he said, one blond eyebrow going up as he paused in front of the picture. "The world-famous stage-magician and illusionist Kuroba Toichi…" The man in the picture bore a striking resemblance to his son (though, Hakuba corrected himself conscientiously, it would actually be the other way around) right down to the rumpled hair and amused, knowing smile; doves fluttered about him and popped from the hat in his hands.

It did not escape the young detective's notice that the man was wearing a white suit rather than the more traditional magician's black tuxedo. He scowled at the picture; it seemed to grin unrepentantly back.

"He died when Kaito was a kid; he was a really nice man, too." said the girl behind his back, speaking quietly. Of course Hakuba knew this detail; he knew everything available in public record about the Kuroba family, and quite a few things that were more difficult to find.

"Mmm. Where IS Kuroba, for that matter?" He glanced towards the entrance to the main room; he could hear a TV playing softly in the background and there was a corner of something that looked rather like a couch just visible through the doorway. "I'll need to let him know what he's missed at school-- oh, and I picked up something for him as well…" He smiled to himself, a small, anticipatory smile.

The young woman in the bathrobe smoothed her hair back, looking puzzled. "'Something FOR him'? You and Kaito don't usually-- I mean, well, most people wouldn't… consider you two to be friends or anything like that." There seemed to be some sort of wariness in her eyes, a dawning suspicion; surely the Inspector's daughter wasn't involved in Kuroba's sordid criminal activities? Unthinkable; she was obviously just protecting her long-time friend.

"Ah, well--" Hakuba shrugged, trying his best to look as generous as possible (although "generous" and "Kuroba" were two concepts that just did not mix well in the blond detective's mind.) "It's just a trifle to amuse a sick classmate; if he isn't interested, I'm sure I can find someone else who can use it."

Nakamori-kun still looked a little doubtful, but she answered with a tentative smile and a murmur of "I'm sure he'll like it, whatever it is." that Hakuba barely heard; his attention was on the faint rustling that he could hear from the other room.

"Ah, THERE he is; I'll just step in for a second--" and he slipped past the startled young woman into the room, heartbeat picking up in anticipation...

Don't worry, Kuroba-- this won't hurt a bit. I'll make sure your bullet-wounds get attended by the best doctors that money can buy, once you're behind bars.

*

There-- that's all the prep work I can manage, I guess. Kaito huddled back beneath the covers, quickly setting a half-full glass of water he had left on the table two days before onto the floor as he opened a book and positioned it appropriately. Okay, Thief Boy, think "sick." Think sick, sick, sick; sick, sicker, sickest. Bleaaaaagh. Throw up on his shoes if you have to; it might actually improve your day. Kaito tried to concentrate on looking flushed and pathetic (easier than pale and wan) as the sounds in the outer room indicated that company was coming.

What Hakuba Saguru and Nakamori Aoko saw when they entered the family room was this: One Kuroba Kaito, hair disheveled and even spikier than usual, sprawling beneath a blanket on the couch. The TV remote lay on the floor alongside an open book which took pride-of-place among several others of its kind and a scatter of tissues; the young magician had his head hanging half off the couch as he read, and he rolled over a little to look blearily up as his two classmates paused in the doorway. "Mmph? Thought I was--" (he yawned, rubbing at his eyes) "--imagining things; hey, Hakuba-kun?" He slumped back against an overstuffed pillow with another yawn. "Nice of you to stop by; have a seat."

Kaito's face was distinctly redder than usual; a faint sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead (courtesy of the glass of water), and his eyes were shadowed. As he waved Hakuba to a chair, he reflected that it was amazing what a little floor-dust rubbed on a person's upper cheekbones would do to make them look sickish; it didn't hurt to hang one's head over the couch for a few minutes, either, just to get that nice hectic flush in the skin. But then, improvisation WAS his specialty.

Hakuba was eyeing him with what he probably thought was a terribly good poker-face; too bad Kaito could read the detective like a book, one with everything written in oversized text. If there was one thing the blond detective was bad at it was the fine art of dissimulation-- he just didn't have the knack. "So," said Kaito settling back and scratching at his hair with a hand, "What brings you here to grace us with your presence today?"

His classmate held out a sheaf of papers. "Homework," he said briefly, a slight wrinkle beginning between his brows; clearly he had arrived expecting to find a bandaged, wounded Phantom Thief holed up and in pain in his lair, not a disheveled Kaito in a bathrobe. How very disappointing for him; Kuroba Toichi's son smiled a cheerful little smile and decided to put on a performance worthy of his famous father.

"Oh hey…. thanks LOADS," he said as he rolled his eyes and sat up. "Just what I needed, something to make me want to stay home a little longer." He yawned a third time and streeeeeetched, ignoring the sharp twinges in his shoulder as he did so-- they weren't *that* bad. "Guess I can't stay in bed forever, though... Hey, Aoko? Could we persuade you to bring us some sodas or something? Please?" he wheedled, while Hakuba looked disgruntled at his familiarity with the girl. He was looking a lot more perplexed, too-- wounded thieves weren't supposed to act like that. Aoko gave him a worried look and departed for the kitchen, her bathrobe-cord trailing behind her on the floor.

"I'd expect you wouldn't want to strain yourself, would you?" That sharp look of Hakuba's-- he always got it when he was trying to be cleverer-than-thou, trying to ferret out some little slip of the tongue. Kaito merely grinned back at him as he shoved the quilt off and swung his feet off the couch. It was so satisfying to go off-script, especially when you didn't like the lines you'd been provided.

"It's sweet of you to worry, Saguru-chan, but I'm fine-- just had some sort of bug, y'know? Headaches, a little fever, the occasional game of toss-the-cookies and the worst case of the runs in this century. You wouldn't BELIEVE how many times I had to take off for the bathroom-- and man, the smell was--"

"Spare me the details, I believe you!" snapped the detective, drawing back in distaste; he recovered himself quickly, though, his sharp eyes searching Kaito's. "You seem fairly well recovered now-- so you should be able to make use of this, shan't you?" And with that he pulled out something small and colorful from one pocket. It looked like some sort of cloth bag; as Kaito peered at it inquiringly the blond went on. "I rather thought that you might need a little amusement during your convalescence; here: Catch!!"

And with one quick movement he snapped the bag into the air, sending several objects directly towards his quarry--

--who caught them neatly with both hands and immediately sent them into a swift, spinning spiral pattern. "Hey, SWEET!! A set of new juggling balls-- I've been looking for these! They're the kind you can put those chemical glow-sticks inside, aren't they? THANKS, Hakuba-kun!" The magician gave him an altogether sincere-looking nod of gratitude through the gyrating three-ball cycle, changing their direction over and over as his hands flashed in movements almost too quick for the eye to see.

Hakuba's jaw dropped; he looked...

Awwwww… SO disappointed; poor widdle detective didn't catch the Kaitou, did he? Tough, Saguru-chan; better luck next time-- not.  Kaito decided to end things with a flourish, spreading both arms wide and allowing the triple cascade to roll one after another from his right hand to his left, following the line of his obviously unbleeding and above all unwounded shoulders and arms and then moving in three quick tosses up into the air, where he snatched them in mid-flight and made them abruptly disappear.

Kaito displayed his empty hands to his rival and grinned an unrepentant grin, just like the one on his father's portrait. "Great choice for a get-well present, Hakuba; I feel better already!"

And he bowed.

*

Hakuba didn't stay much longer after that; he kept darting such sharp, puzzled looks at Kaito that the young magician was hard put not to burst out laughing. Oh man, if looks could kill I'd be a wisp of smoke coming from a crematorium about now. He REALLY thought he had me-- the poor schmuck was so sure that when he tossed me those little toys I'd wince or yell or miss my catch and then he'd have real grounds for suspicion. The last thing he thought he'd see was a nice, healthy Kuroba-kun, juggling away with both hands. Idiot; I've known about that police-radio of his for ages-- I mean, for crying out loud, his DAD'S a cop. And I do my homework; of course he was listening in on Nakamori's troops during the heist.

It hadn't helped matters that Spot had showed up just after the juggling episode, visibly smirking as he wound his fluffy white self back and forth against the teenage detective's slack-clad legs before strolling in triumph to purr beneath the couch; good old Saguru-chan had started sneezing almost immediately.

He flopped back onto the couch among the rather battered, overstuffed pillows and laughed silently to himself at the memory of Hakuba's dismayed face as Kaito had fielded the can of soda that Aoko had tossed at his head after he had jokingly called her "mom" (she really shouldn't have put on that apron over her robe); clearly his classmate had expected him to bleed all over the place, not juggle what had been thrown at him. He chortled internally and then let the snickers escape out loud; Hah! Hey, Hakuba-kun? Looks like I got you by the--

"I wouldn't be TOO smug if I were you." Aoko shoved her dark hair irritably back from her face, leaning against the doorjamb. "I mean, obviously he's suspicious… and… and what ARE you laughing at?"

The boy lay back lazily among the couch cushions, stretching again; his joints popped audibly. "Aoko, he's been suspicious for absolute ages. Don't you remember all that fuss a while back, when he was going on about how he had gotten Kid's age, body type, etcetera, and how I fit the profile? Hakuba made a huge stink about it-- and I have to admit, the guy's no idiot." He chuckled. "He even gave me a couple of scares, but he never got close enough to lay a finger on me."

She scowled down at him, crossing her arms and kicking at the doorjamb with one foot. "If he had, you'd be in jail by now. Did you ever think of that? What would you do then, hmm? You're not going to find your dad's killers from behind bars--" Aoko glared at him with a lowering glare that was startlingly like her father's when he was in a snit; as he blinked up at her, bemused, she reached over and thumped him on the tip of the nose with one forefinger. "Pay attention!"

"Ow!" He sat up, rubbing at his face. "Jeeze," he grumbled, "Why do I always like the violent types?"

Kaito watched with interest as Aoko sort of froze in place with her mouth open; it was amazing how fast she blushed. Cute, too. At last, thought Kaito fondly, I've figured out a way to make her stop talking. I'll have to try saying something like that the next time she chases me with a mop. One part of his mind admired the way her eyes were beginning to flash and glitter while the other part prepared to duck.

To his astonishment she seemed to collect herself and calm down; no random objects came flying at his head, no glasses of water or housecleaning equipment, no nothing-- the Inspector's daughter merely stared at him coolly, eyes measuring. Uh oh; think I've pissed her off. Calm Aoko = Thinking Aoko; Thinking Aoko = Possible Bad Day For Kaito. The last time she looked at me like that I ended up explaining all about why I wear a white cape some nights. "Er… you were saying--?" he prodded hopefully.

"I was *saying* that you weren't going to catch the bad guys from inside a jail-cell. What happens if you get caught? You'll be stuck inside a prison for the rest of your life and--" But he had sat up now and was shaking his head. "Oh really? Why not?"

He stood up, rumpling his hair with one hand and scratching at the ever-present itch on his shoulder with the other. "Because I'd escape. Y'see, Aoko, you've never really seen me in action, have you? Every time you've watched Kaitou Kid you've mostly been hoping to see him fail-- you've never really paid attention to what he-- I --can actually do." The young magician gave her a crooked little smile, one that slanted after a second into a more thoughtful look. "Aoko? Are you-- well, are you really okay with all of this? If you aren't, I can stop talking about Kid around you--"

She regarded him, a curious light in her eyes. "You talk about Kid almost as if he were somebody else, not… yourself."

Kaito sighed, walking past her to look out one of the windows. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the glass as he stared out into the late morning sunlight. "Sometimes it's like that; sometimes I can plan for a heist like I was planning it for somebody else, not for me. I mean," and he turned to smile again at Aoko for a second before turning back to the window, the light transforming his shaggy dark hair into bronze, "Kuroba Kaito's just a high school student, right? Good at magic, maybe, good with jokes and all that but still just… a guy. Kid, though-- that's the funny thing; it's not as hard as you'd think, living up to the legend I'm supposed to be." He continued to smile, but there was almost a shyness in his eyes when he looked across at her again. "Sometimes I do stuff and then wonder, 'Where the hell did THAT come from?' And sometimes, it's more like-- waking up, and knowing I'm awake." He shook his head again. "Never mind; you'll see. Uh... That is, if you are okay with this...?"

When she didn't answer he continued to watch her nervously. "Aoko? --Aoookooo, if you're trying to torment me, you're doing a really good job. ARE you?" From beneath the couch Spot let out a derisive meow.

The Inspector's daughter was still watching him. "'Okay with this'-- you mean, okay with your stealing? No, I'm not. But I'm not 'okay' with my dad being shot at by these whoever-they-ares either, and I'm not too happy about their shooting you either," she grumbled. "Next time it happens you may not have some little girl's balcony to land on; instead you'll go SPLAT! in the middle of an intersection somewhere or on the side of a building, and somebody'll have to clean up the mess."

He had winced at her 'SPLAT!'; it coincided all too well with a few private thoughts of his own. But he watched her back, wondering what was going on inside her head; That's one of the reasons she's… important to me-- because she's a puzzle, something I never get tired of figuring out. I'll bet Kudo would approve. "Aoko?"

She gave him back his own faintly shy smile, but there was determination underlying it as well. "So that's why you're going to let me help you, isn't it?" The young woman walked a few steps, leaning against the opposite edge of the window with her arms still crossed.

"I-- wait, what?" Kaito's brain wasn't quite taking in what she was saying; Must have missed something somewhere, either that or her logic is escaping me. "Run that by me again. 'Help me'?"

Nakamori Aoko rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Well, you WERE planning on drawing the bad guys out again, weren't you? How were you going to do that?"

He blinked. "--with another heist, maybe. How else?" Is she suggesting what I think she is?

"Fine. So..." and she drew a deep breath, tucking her straggling hair back with one hand. "What do we do first?"

--wha--??

Kaito could hardly believe what he was hearing; all of the weirdness of the night before paled in comparison. "A-Aoko? Are you actually offering to help me out with a heist? HELLO, Aoko, attention all braincells, knock-knock-knock, anybody home? If you haven't been paying attention, that's a freaking criminal offense, you know… You're not actually serious, are you? ---you ARE. You really are. You're actually contemplating helping me steal my next target." He sort of slumped against the window-sill, sitting down backwards onto the chair that (fortunately for him) occupied the corner beside it. "Riiiiight; I think I've finally lost my mind and I'm dead certain you have. You REALLY want to help me plan a heist?"

The Inspector's daughter shrugged. "Of course I do," she stated matter-of-factly, amusement quirking one corner of her mouth. "Who else is going to keep you out of trouble?"

* * *

---------------------------------------------
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]

Fine, fine, sorry; life's been crazier than usual lately, big emphasis on crazy. And you know what scale I measure that on, so yeah. Here you go.

PRIMARY TARGET : Akuti's Eye-- Emerald pendant, 62.8-ct, silver setting, dates at best estimate to 11 ^th century AD, tentative origin Turkish, poss. Pakistani, obv. retooled multiple times, stone replaced per tooling marks at least once, current version prob. forehead/diadem pendant; private owner, undiscoverable (I tried, dammit, some very interesting blinds & layering, somebody didn't want their name on anything.) Legends re: confers healing, favor of the gods.

SECONDARY TARGET : Diamond tiara, 'Princess Marie's Rose', formerly belonged to Princess Marie of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen (Princess Marie of Belgium), crafted 1867 for her wedding to Prince Philippe, Count of Flanders. White gold & diamonds, central stone 8.3-ct white diamond, flower motif. Yes, secondary.

LOC : Musashino Art University, Sadako Sasaki Memorial Museum, multi-cultural exhibit.

(You already have my breakdown of the riddle, we chewed it to pieces pretty thoroughly; just add that to the file along with your own, okay? And the summary. Okay, now for the ratings; going with the usual 1-10 pt scale. Anybody but us ever sees this, they're going to think we're fanboys and not trying to catch the bastard, you do realize that right? Well, they'll think YOU are anyway, I'll prob be dead. Take care of R.)

LEVEL OF CRAZY : Not as high as usual; not public, definite targets, no big show for the media at ALL. Very goal-driven in this case. Diamond tiara obvious visible target, Akuti's Eye fits prior suppositions. Using your scale of Barely Crazy to Batshit Crazy, I'd cite about a 4 (Focused Crazy.)

PROP DAMAGE : Much higher than usual, particularly broken glass both from taskforce-level and above; good thing they got that kevlar-panels boot upgrade, want to bet Kid knew about that? Heat/light flashbombs, prior setups at ceiling, definite prep prior to heist, so what else is new.

PERSONNEL DAMAGE : During heist? Minor injuries, mostly due to broken glass, couple of broken fingers due to being stepped on, etc. After heist? That's where it went wrong, Hattori, you know the rule-- no-one gets hurt at Kid Heists. Seven injured, two dead due to gunmen waiting in courtyard, estimated # eight, all except for two rooftop snipers wearing “taskforce gear” camo. According to post-heist walkthrough by Nakamori's team per his files (just shut up, Hattori, like you've never hacked anything?) no-one was meant to leave museum courtyard alive. Nakamori's not stupid; he knows this wasn't Kid's doing.

WEAPONRY, ETC : Flashbombs, heat emitters, and he used the oil bladders again at shoe-level. You'd think Nakamori'd get a clue as to why the taskforce can never keep their footing... Cardgun as usual, small expl in light fixtures, larger in overhead skylights. Courtyard melee: general mix of flashbombs, small incendiaries, larger explosive/percussion grenade than usually used (i.e., goodbye fountain), number of unknown percussives, no patterns-- trying to cause as much confusion as usual is my guess. Worked, too.

ESCAPE - TECHNIQUES, EXCEPTION : Seen going up wall, missing for short period, seen airborne shortly afterwards-- used updraft from site generator plant (clever). Won't get to use that trick again, Nakamori'll watch for replication. Major exception this time: at least two witnesses reported possible long-range weaponry gunshot(s), actions of 1412 indicated possible hit(s). Did not descend, though, prob used updraft to exit area.

SUMMARY : Hattori, he's alive. Yeah, I have confirmation. Alive, mobile, definitely took at least two bullets but upright at least one day later. Stupidly lucky? What else is new? Something weird going on there, weirder than usual I mean. And now you'll want to know where confirmation came from. And I'm calling in a favor on this, okay? Let me keep that a secret for the moment-- just for now, Hattori. Not long, dammit. I have reasons.

S
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To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]

WTF? It BETTER not be for long. But, well shit. You need help, you goddam SAY so, okay?
HH
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Chapter Text

"GENTA-KUUUUUN! GET IT, GENTA-KUUUUUN!" Mitsuhiko whooped at the top of his lungs, running like crazy down the grassy length of the park's hill. A little ways beyond him Genta was thundering across the grass with his arms outstretched in pursuit of a bright yellow plastic Frisbee; the toy curved through the air in a direct trajectory for an ornamental bush next to a park bench.

Unfortunately while the Frisbee was able to take the curve as it flew down the hill, Genta-kun was not. As large and strong as he was for his age, the boy was regrettably lacking in any aerodynamic qualities whatsoever and plummeted straight ahead, arms windmilling as he attempted to slow his descent down the slope-- to no avail. At the last second, the teenage couple necking on the bench looked up, wide-eyed, and three yells split the air:

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"AAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!"

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHSHIT!"

**CRASH!**

After bodies had been picked up from the ground, profuse apologies had been administered, and one very chastened (for a little while anyway) eight-year-old boy had retrieved the Frisbee from the foliage, Rita Saunders shook her head firmly. "No, no and NO. Enough Frisbee for a while, already! Let's take a break, kids--" The young woman pointed towards several food-vender's carts at the park's edge. "How about lunch? I don't know about you lot, but I'm starving."

This met with general approval, especially from Mitsuhiko, who seemed to be in the midst of a growing-spurt. The freckled boy was already heading towards Genta's inches in height and looked likely to shoot past; Conan had been fighting down some severe twinges of envy. As the kids headed en masse towards the okinomi taiyaki cart, Rita called out after Ayumi. "Hey, Ayumi-chan?"

"Hmm?" The little girl turned, one fist clamped tightly around the money that her keeper had just passed over to her and the other shading her eyes against the sunlight.

The American girl chuckled and reached down to brush a twig out of the child's messy hair; Ayumi-chan tended to play hard. "I found one of your juggling-stones in a cup this morning; just thought I'd let you know in case you were missing one."

The child's forehead wrinkled; she squinted at the young woman, looking doubtful. "You did?" Reaching into her pocket, she dug out the handful of stones that she had scooped up earlier that morning, sorting through them with a curious finger. "Ummm… which one?"

"That one-- the clear one there. See? It was in your HelloKitty mug." The student tilted her head to one side, glancing towards the food-trucks and vendor's carts; Genta and Mitsuhiko were urging a long-suffering cook to add more mushrooms to their lunches while Conan and Rin debated the varied merits of mazesoba and yakitori.

"It was… in my mug? The red one?" At Rita-kun's nod the child frowned, thinking back across the origin of her stones. Ranging from almond to nearly walnut-sized, the motley assortment ran anywhere from several pretty pieces of agate she had bought herself while on a school field trip to the local Natural History Museum to a bit of something interesting but unidentifiable that had turned up during recess one day.  She didn't really care; they were nice to her fingers, and the different sizes and shapes helped her to develop her "juggler's hand," or so Hei-san told her. He had cautioned her against juggling only like-sized objects; that sort of showmanship, he said, was boooooring.

But she didn't remember the clear stone from anywhere. Ayumi held it up between her thumb and forefinger; the size and shape of a rather large almond, it glittered in the bright sunlight like an angel's tear, perfectly colorless and silky-smooth. Giving the mental equivalent of a shrug, the child tucked the handful back into her pocket, resolving to practice after lunch; then she followed Rita-kun towards the carts, her thoughts already turning away from stones and towards the far more appealing prospect of lunch.

*

"So far, so good," murmured Rin beneath her breath as she wiped her hands and face with a paper napkin prior to crumpling it up; beside her Conan nodded, still munching the last of his mazesoba. He took a long slurp of his soda as she continued softly, looking out over the rolling expanses of the park. "No scary guys in black trenchcoats, no mysterious abductions, no bombs, no… what?"

The boy had stopped chewing and was looking at her oddly, one eyebrow up. He swallowed. "You know… it never really occurred to me before just how often that sort of thing has happened to me since I got shrunk; how come it didn't when I was still the old me, hm?" He dusted his hands together, and Rin passed over a napkin with a distinct Wipe-Your-Face,-Conan-Kun "Ran-neechan" expression; he took it meekly and complied.

Rin rolled her eyes. "You are still the old you, Shinichi, just like I'm still the old *me*-- you're just… younger."

He snorted, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hah; right. Tell me that the next time I have to boost you up to a bookshelf or something, or some bigger kid pushes you around at Recess--"

She shot him a smug little smile. "Bigger kids don't pick on ME, not since that bully picked on Teicho-kun a couple of months ago."

This, he had to admit, was true; one of the smaller kids in their class had been being shaken down by an older, would-be Future Youth Yakuza type. It had taken several rather obvious displays during Recess of Rin's karate skills to drive the point home, but after she had demonstrated how she could put her foot through a board he had apparently gotten the message. Especially since she had had him hold one side of the board and had had Teicho-kun hold the other. As a final little touch she had then written "BULLY" on the board's surface; no matter how dense the kid might have been, that had been a fairly clear set of signals.

Much to Rin's chagrin, of course, her informal little demonstration had more kids than ever wanting to play "karate class" at Recess now; the really funny thing, though, was that most of them were boys.

The young woman in the little girl's body took a long drink from her soda, hooking one leg up underneath her as the other one swung idly from the park bench where they sat. It was mid-day, and the sunlight was pouring down as if doing its best to dispel any thoughts of evildoers in black. The whole world seemed to be full of drowsy warmth, the scent of freshly-mowed park grass (she could see the park-worker making rows across the lawn in the distance) and the smells of their lunch; it was almost a distillation of some of her childhood memories of playing in the park.

Times like this make being a kid again worth it; it's funny, but it's almost a pity that more people can't have the chance to experience this kind of thing a second time. I know Shinichi wants to change back, and so do I… of course… but--

And she smiled a little, watching the worker with his lawnmower make another turn; she stretched her leg out, musing on the dirtiness of the tennis-shoe at the end of the skinny ankle and on how that sort of thing just didn't seem to matter that much anymore. --but that won't keep me from enjoying my 'second childhood' while it lasts, however long that might be. Although I have to admit, I'm not exactly looking forward to going through puberty again. Oh well; at least this time I'll have a clue.

She stole a little sideways look at the boy beside her; he had leaned back and was watching Ayumi, eyes a little sleepy but still alert. The girl was showing off her juggling skills; she had a handful of rocks of some sort that she had picked up and was currently sending two of them around and around in a creditably even circle. Not too difficult, I guess-- not that I can juggle-- but she IS just eight, after all, and… oooh…

--and now her young friend had switched patterns, sending the stones up and down in a one-handed cascade while Mitsuhiko and Genta goggled. Will you look at that? She's getting GOOD. Go Ayumi-kun! I've got to get her to show that to Sonoko; she'll love it! The Suzuki girl was very fond of any kind of performer's trick.

It was sort of funny, when you thought of just where the child had learned her new skills-- it wasn't every gradeschooler that had a world-famous Phantom Thief as an instructor. Rin still was not quite certain how she felt about that; okay, granted, he was a criminal… but it seemed that he had good, sound reasons (if not legal or quite sane ones) behind his activities. If he could just keep things from slopping over onto Ayumi or any other innocents, then-- well, they'd just have to see, wouldn't they?

She took another pull on her drink. She knew that Shinichi was dying to catch 1412, had been dying to see him in custody ever since the Clock Tower incident; the thief's repeated escapes and outwittings irked him badly. And of course, there was the little matter of a certain impersonation of her former self...

Rin-- Ran-- still remembered how it had happened; she had just stepped outside onto the Queen Elizabeth's deck for a second, that was all, had taken a few steps over to the railing by the lifeboats to peer down into the froth and dark water below-- And then there had been a hand over her eyes from behind, and a cheerful voice saying "Guess who, Ran-kun?" She had automatically thought it to be a classmate or some such and had drawn a breath to speak, thinking hard; that breath, however, had contained something that sent her senses spinning into darkness. And as sleep had billowed up and around and over her like a black silk scarf, she had heard the same voice whisper, "Have a nice nap, Mouri-san; don't worry, you'll be fine." And that was all.

'Fine', huh?  When she met up again with Kid herself she'd teach him a thing or two about 'fine'...

Crunching on a bit of ice, Rin glanced over at the vendor carts; as the hour progressed, more customers were gradually heading over. There was a little exercise she had been doing for the last few months, one she had devised for herself to make herself a bit more useful in the cases they kept seeming to get involved in: observation. Whenever she found herself idle, she would watch the people around her and try to notice things, ones that made each person unique. Not something so simple as a face or hair color-- it was better if she could look at somebody and think 'That man has different colors of paint all over his shoes, old and new stains both; he's a house-painter' or 'Look, old burn-marks on that man's arms and I can smell the grease from here; he's a cook'. Maybe it wasn't much, but sometimes it helped. For Shinichi, that sort of thing came naturally; for her, it took a little more work.

But she was learning, and she was putting her skills to use.

It wasn't that she had been so unobservant before; Mouri Ran had been a detective's daughter and had been a part of many, many cases in the past-- she knew the procedure and the vocabulary, so to speak. But having been dropped down by nearly a meter in height and at least two social groups in status tended to change a person's perspective, and after she had gotten used to being in a crowd of what seemed to be mostly made up of legs every time she was among a group of adults, Himitsu Rin had decided that it was time to *use* her new point of view. Shinichi had been right; people just didn't pay much attention to little kids, which allowed for some rather unique opportunities for observation. And besides: it was nice to look at something that wasn't knees.

Take those women over there, for example; they're on vacation. They've got camera-bags with them, clothes so new the creases are still showing and one of them has a Tokyo Metro map sticking out of her purse; I can see airline check-tags on the camera bag, too-- if I was close enough, I could tell how long they had been traveling and from where… And that old man on the other bench, I'd bet that he's a gardener or something like that-- his shoes are sort of stained with mud, the way shoes get when you just let the mud dry on them. He's reading some sort of horticulture magazine, and I saw him looking at one of the flowerbeds sort of closely. And I'm not sure, but I *think* he's got what looks like the handle of a trowel sticking out of his jacket-pocket… but why on earth would he take one with him to a city park on a Sunday afternoon?

"Shi-- Conan-kun?" The boy beside her was finishing off his soda as well; he glanced up inquiringly. "That man over there on the park bench, the one in front of the yakitori booth-- do you think he's a gardener?"

He gave her an odd look, one quick eyebrow up. "I'd say so," he said slowly, "considering that he's got an 'AKIMOTO ESTATES LANDSCAPING STAFF' patch on the top pocket of his jacket..."

Rin deflated. "Oh. Guess I missed that bit." She deflated even further as they both watched the old man pull the handle of his 'trowel' from his jacket; it turned out to be a cell-phone. Can't win them all, I guess-- Hm?

The slight figure beside her had suddenly gone remarkably stiff, remarkably still. A faint, faint sound came from him almost imperceptibly: the sound of an indrawn breath, hard and sharp. "Conan-kun?"

He didn't answer, but his hands were balled up into white-knuckled fists and his shoulders beneath her concerned touch had gone as rigid as iron. There were prickles of sweat beading the skin on his face; what in the world? "Conan?" she asked again urgently, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Shinichi? Answer me-- what's wrong?"

Nothing; he was completely focused on something… somebody… on the park bench? But there was just the gardener-type, and he didn't exactly look too awful--

No; no, he's looking PAST them, at the yakisoba cart-- past that too. Who--? Open your eyes, Ran; you were just patting yourself on the back about your observation skills, so look and see. There are cars parked all along the street, but none of them look particularly funny-- there's a taxi pulling away, though, across on the other side. She strained her eyes, trying not to be too obvious. Hm; people on the sidewalk-- who just got out of that taxi? Oh… that man in the jacket, he's putting something in his pocket. Wallet? Probably. TWO men together and they're looking this way; maybe they're meeting somebody here? They're crossing the street now-- why are they dressed like that in this weather? Even lightweight jackets are almost too hot. And hats…? Oh; that man on the sidewalk in front of the yakisoba cart, he must be the one they're meeting, look; he's wearing a coat too...

It was about then that the penny dropped. But after all, it wasn't like Rin/Ran had ever actually seen any of the Black Organization members before, not as such.

Her first, slightly stunned thought was that if they had wanted to look more anonymous they should have been maybe the Grey Organization or the Casual Dress Organization; those black trenchcoats and jackets (one of the men was wearing what looked for all the world like a black windbreaker) just screamed 'villain'. Or, possibly, 'goth.' They looked a bit old for that, though… The elder of the three had a face like a bony fist, all sharp surfaces and creases around his eyes and mouth; he was thin as a whippet and was wearing a dark pair of wraparound shades. His companion (the one in the windbreaker) was so commonplace-looking as to be remarkable in his anonymity. But it was the third man, the one they had crossed the street to meet-- he was the one that had apparently caught Shinichi's rigid, sweating attention.

He was a large man, rather bulky in a muscular way; his shoulders looked to be nearly splitting the black jacket and the maroon shirt beneath it. It was hard to see anything in his expression behind the dark glasses and hat-brim especially since he was standing in profile, but she thought that he looked more than a little irritated.

And then he turned slightly, and Himitsu Rin shivered as a chill rippled through her small frame at the cold harshness in the blocky face. The black-clad man looked as immovable and implacable as a slab of stone, the one that that you might face in the split second before it crushed you to death as easily as a child stepping on a weed. He looks… like he could kill somebody and simply not care, like stepping on a bug. It wouldn't matter to him whether they lived or not.

Beside her the boy made a faint, edged whisper of sound, barely a breath of a word. A name -- one she had heard from him before during the retelling of a nightmare that had happened to him once upon a time at an amusement park more than a year ago:

"…Vodka..."

* * *

Hakuba Saguru, son of Senior Chief Inspector Hakuba, was not a happy young man.

I nearly had him; I know I did. How the blazes did he manage his idiotic juggling act if he had bullet-wounds on his torso? Kuroba should have been wincing every time he moved, not making asinine jokes at my expense. The blond detective grumbled to himself as he sat, hands clasped together in thought, on a bench a block and a half away from his quarry's home.

It wasn't just any bench, of course; if you sat in just the right place, you had a straight-line view to the Kuroba residence down an alley and across a neighbor's yard. A good place for surveillance; if it had a drawback, it was only that the watcher could quite easily be watched as well.

Not that Hakuba was worried. He had other things on his mind.

Stupid git. I bloody well KNOW I'm right-- he's Kaitou Kid and he took at least one bullet while leaving the scene of the crime the other night. So why didn't he show any effects? He could at least have had the decency to bleed a little…

...not that he wanted the thief to truly have suffered a debilitating injury. Or Kuroba Kaito, for that matter. Sometimes it bothered Hakuba Saguru just a little, his compartmentalization of the two facets of one being, the Phantom Thief and his classmate. That was untidy; that was an attempt by his own mind at excusing one's actions by blaming them on the other's motives, a futile attempt in every way since they were one and the same. Maybe, once he caught them-- him-- Hakuba could reconcile the impulse? Satisfy it in some way?

Once I catch him... and I learn why he does what he does... When he's caught, there will be no-one shooting at him anymore, at least. It'll be for his own good.

There was a flutter of wings above and behind the detective as Watson came in for a landing on the back of the bench. The peregrine made a soft, keening noise in the back of her throat; she (and yes, Watson was a female; Hakuba had long since become resigned to the fact that eventually every acquaintance he had was going to point out the disparity between the bird's name and gender at one point or another. He occasionally wished that he had named her 'Irene') mantled her wings briefly and then settled them into place, eyeing her owner sideways in the manner of birds. The young detective sighed, reaching up to smooth one finger across his falcon's breast-feathers.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, the way that Kuroba had seemingly shrugged off his injury (and surely, surely there had been one!) And it hadn't helped that Nakamori-kun had been right there the whole time, either; she seemed to be even less aware of the thief's iniquity than usual. The young woman had seemed remarkably casual and easy with him, hadn't she? For a moment Hakuba's tawny brows drew down as he entertained dark suspicions regarding out-of-town parents and unchaperoned activities; but then he dismissed them as unworthy of further consideration. Kuroba might be a thief, but he's not a cad.

It never occurred to him to wonder about Aoko's intentions, which showed that he was either terribly naive or simply unobservant.

The wind was picking up just a bit; it sent leaf-litter and scraps of street detritus scurrying about his feet in little whirls, driven down the sidewalk in fits and gusts. Watson mantled again, shaking her head to settle her neck-feathers into place, and Hakuba shrugged within his light jacket in much in the same way before rising disgustedly to his feet to flag a passing taxi down. As he gave a terse address to the driver, he ignored the thin-faced, gray-haired man waiting a little ways down the sidewalk at a bus-stop, other than a vague mental thought of 'nice trenchcoat' before climbing inside the vehicle. Behind him Watson took to the air to follow her master as she had done many times before.

I will find a way to catch you out, Kuroba; you can't win past me forever, not even with your luck. Eventually you'll be a section in the history books, and I'll be right there with you-- only the chapter won't be titled "Master Thieves", it'll be "Great Detectives" instead. And then I'll finally understand exactly why you do what you do, and I'll be able to move on to the next challenge.  And you?  You'll be in a place where you'll never commit another crime, and no-one will try to take you down before I can catch you. Jaw clenched, the blond stared fixedly down the alleyway one last time before the taxi sped away.

Behind him, notes were being jotted down into a small notebook by the man at the bus-stop, who had taken Hakuba's seat on the bench:

Subject 8736 has been under study again by classmate; suggest adding classmate to the list of active surveillance. Extreme caution advised due to addition's relationship with high-up police members; possible shadowing in near future? Capture of 8736 by police would be understandably high-risk to current operations and should therefore be avoided; perhaps a fatal mishap to classmate could be arranged instead of surveillance if action seems necessary? Will await further instructions.

The thin-faced man closed his notebook and slipped it quietly inside his black trenchcoat, adjusting his shades against the sunlight.

* * *

Breathe. Just breathe. He's not looking at you or Rin or any of the others, he's not looking this way at all. So just breathe.

Oh God.

Terror fought for supremacy over Conan/Shinichi's small frame as he stared, horrified, at the man who had been part of what had amounted to his death and resurrection so many months before. Vodka. He had seen that square, blunt face so many, many times in nightmares-- the *bad* ones, the ones where he came home from school to find the dead bodies of all the people he loved strewn about Mouri's office like broken dolls. In those dreams Gin and Vodka were always sitting at the table, drinking tea and waiting for him with their still-warm guns lying beside the cups; and Ran… Ran's cooling corpse was always there on the floor at their feet, her blood spattering their shoes.

(But ever since Rin had come into being, the dreams hadn't been so bad or come so often; now, when the horror reached its height he found himself more often than not being dragged from one dream into another, a dream where Rin held him close and comforted him with gentle, soothing words and a little girl's embrace while nearby his older self accepted equal comfort in Ran's arms until the nightmare at last faded away.)

Now, though, the nightmare was right there on the sidewalk less than twenty feet away and moving towards him .

Breathe. Again. Again. Good. Now get everybody the hell OUT of here. "...Rin-kun?"

At his odd tone she turned back to stare at him, her face a little pale. "Rin-kun, let's-- let's all go over by the swings, okay? ALL of us--" He slid off his bench, landing on the ground with a slight thud. "Race you?" he asked, eyes franticly urgent. Please, please, understand…

"But… oh! Okay!" She slid off the bench, moving past him to gather the others as he turned back towards the sidewalk…

(Stay away, Ran, stay safe, keep the others safe… Tell Ai to be careful if I can't-- Ohshit.)

…and Vodka, who was walking right towards him, less than ten feet away now.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His feet were like lead, the way they were in bad dreams; he tried to move, to edge sideways, to reach for his watch, to do something, anything at all to keep Vodka from pulling out a gun and--

The blank, blocky face wearing the heavy shades was bearing down on him like an iceberg, and the square hand was reaching inside the black trenchcoat and pulling out--

… that's it, he's going to shoot me and I'm dead--

--a rolled-up newspaper?!?

The black-coated man tossed it past him towards the trashcan at the end of the bench, his bland, blunt countenance betraying not the slightest iota of recollection or recognition as his glance slid over the boy's face.

And then he turned around and walked back towards his two companions, who were currently buying coffee from a vendor.

And that was all.

Conan felt more than a little faint. He sagged backwards against the bench, knees weak. He… didn't know me. He's not here to kill me or the others. We're still safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the bits of Kudo Shinichi that were still busy running around in panicked circles, he heard himself note clinically that Vodka was wearing gloves despite the warm weather; ...damn; no prints available from the newspaper then...

I can't believe he didn't recognize me. I can't believe he walked right up to me and he didn't even--

"Conan? Conan-kun?" Steps beside him then, and a small, sweat-damp hand was taking his cold one. "Come on, let's go play on the swings." Rin was right there, her eyes full of fear and concern as she pulled him away from the bench and away across the grass towards the other kids, who were already pelting at a dead run for the swingsets. Genta and Mitsuhiko were tearing off full-tilt, vying for the lead while Ayumi shrieked cheerfully along behind them.

They're okay, all of them. Ran-- Rin's okay, Rita-kun--

He looked past his shoulder, listening for gunshots even as he made sure that the American girl was actually following. As his classmates careened into the swings and dove for seats, Rin kept hold of his hand. "Are you alright?" she asked in a low voice, also glancing back across the playground. "That man… I remember, you said he was one of the two--"

A quick gesture cut her off; mechanically, the boy sat down in an empty swing on the end, his hands clutching the suspending chains in a sweating, white-knuckled grasp; Rin walked around behind him to lean against a nearby pole, watching with concern. "Yeah," he said softly, staring at the ground. "That's him. I've seen him a few times since-- hell, I even ran right into him and G-- his partner-- once, but..." Conan laughed a little painfully, still looking away; he would not raise his eyes. He didn't want her to see the fear there.

The loud sound of the swings' double-creaks and clatter mixed with the shouts and boasts of their three companions, but he kept his head down. "Ran," he whispered, "If they don't know about me, if they're not here for me, what ARE they here for?" He looked up then, his eyes tracking the distant, dark figure a few hundred yards away, watching as it joined its two companions and they slowly began to move across the grass towards a distant copse of trees.

She was silent for a second, thinking hard. "It could be for any of a number of reasons," she said slowly. "But… " and he felt both of her hands come to rest gently on his shoulders from behind. "You think you know, don't you? Why?"

**creakcreak-creakcreak** The swings were as loud as his heartbeat, pounding in both their ears. And across the park the three figures had reached the trees and had paused there. Conan's eyes stayed fixed on the three men, his expression intent and far more tense than any gradeschooler's had a right to be. "It has to do with where they've gone," he answered grimly. "Those trees-- the tallest one's the one I was under when I had my little chat with Ayumi's juggling teacher the other day. Remember?"

The men had paused now, and as far as he could tell they were surveying the area; "They… well, they could be here for another reason, couldn't they? Her voice was unsure, a little unsteady; his fear had frightened her, and Rin's small hands tightened on his shoulders until they dug in.

"Maybe," he answered softly. "But we're already pretty certain there's at least a chance Kuroba's been under watch… and lately there've been those attacks during his heists. And now we've got three of the bad guys showing up at a place he regularly frequents; want to bet they've got his school staked out too, whichever one it is?"

**creakcreak-creakcreak** The swings sang along, camouflaging their quiet voices with their rough music. They made a strange counterpoint.

Rin's fists tightened on his shoulders even more; the former Mouri Ran was not weak for her 'age', and at this rate he was going to have bruises. Not that he cared. "If they just wanted to kill him, couldn't they just-- I don't know, shoot him from a car or something? He probably walks to school or takes a bus; that'd be the easiest way to kill him, and the least conspicuous, wouldn't it?"

Silently Conan blessed his companion's involvement in all those past cases; she didn't waste time going 'but people don't DO things like that!' all over the place. She had seen too much for that sort of nonsense. "They tried to take him down the other night and it didn't work; I wonder why they've switched from surveillance to active attacks after all this time? That's the big question… They've probably been watching him pretty closely since he started up his 'career' as Kid-- why try to kill him now? What's changed things?"

The girl's hands slid around and she hugged him gently from behind in reassurance, half for herself as well as for him. "And what are they doing here now?"

**creakcreak-creakcreak** The jingle of the swings' chains seemed to fill the world; funny, the kids weren't yelling or laughing at each other any more.

Off in the distance, the trio of black figures moved slowly back towards the edge of the park again; internally Conan shivered with impatience. If the kids and Rita-kun weren't here I could tail them, but if I tried Rita'd follow; she's the token adult, she'd do her best to keep me in line or protect me if things got ugly. In a way, she's the most vulnerable of the group. Can't trail them, can't eavesdrop-- I'd have to get a sticker-mike on them to do that-- can't do a goddamned THING right now but be grateful they're not here to mow us all down...

Hey-- why's it so quiet all of a sudden?

Uh oh.

The swings were no longer creaking; instead, a gentle jangling was all that was heard as they swung empty back into place. He turned around slowly to look over one shoulder past Rin; three interested sets of eyes were fixed on his face as Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko draped themselves side-by-side on one of the support-bars separating their part of the swingsets from his. "What's up, Conan-kun?" inquired Mitsuhiko, his thin face a little suspicious.

Crap. Ayumi's the only one with even the faintest clue about the Black Org, and that's only because she knows about Ran and me. How do I explain this? He tried to stall. "I… what makes you think anything's up?"

The freckled boy rolled his eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Conan-kun, you're a TERRIBLE liar. You're all nervous and sweaty and you've been watching those guys over there--" and to both his and Rin's horror Mitsuhiko pointed openly at the distant forms of the three Black Organization members (who fortunately appeared to pay no attention) "--and when you got on the swing you didn't even start swinging, and Rin's being reeeeeeeally girlfriendly…" Genta elbowed him with a snicker; he had the grace to look a little abashed before he continued. "That's not normal, and you always say to look for the things that're not normal. So what's up, huh?"

Ayumi's gaze was following the three men's progress as they headed for the sidewalk; a furrow in her brow indicated some train of thought going on in her mind… and a sudden widening of her eyes showed that the train had reached its station, so to speak. She drew in a quick breath, opening her mouth to say something that Conan was certain he did NOT want Mitsuhiko or Genta to hear--

--Think fast, Kudo, or your secret is tomorrow's Recess gossip--

"Okay, okay," he said hurriedly. Behind him he heard a sigh and a faint mutter of "… this is what you get for training them this well, you know…" from Rin. Tell me about it, he thought wryly; this wasn't exactly the first time his young friends' intelligence had turned around and bitten him on the backside. Conan kept a wary eye on the three dark figures across the park; they were further away than ever now, probably going to flag down a taxi. Why the hell had Vodka and his cohorts been in a taxi? Where was Gin's car, anyway? For that matter, where was Gin?

Crap. Ayumi was putting her two yen's worth in now, something to be dreaded under the circumstances. The girl was resting her chin on her crossed arms, hanging half over the swingset's bar with a severe expression on her face. "Cooonan-kun... Those were the-- the bad guys you told me about a little while ago, weren't they? The ones that… um…" Her eyes grew even wider as she realized that she was treading on forbidden ground, and she hastily placed a hand over her own mouth. Genta and Mitsuhiko looked outraged, their jaws dropping in tandem. Conan sighed, shutting his own eyes as they began to sputter; any more stress and he would explode...

Hell, much more of this and Gin and Vodka won't HAVE to shoot me; I'll just be the youngest cardiac arrest in Japanese history.

Then he felt Rin's light touch on his shoulders again, her fingers barely resting there but somehow managing to convey her worry and caring. It helped-- not a lot, but enough to allow Kudo Shinichi, detective and adult, to take the place of Edogawa Conan, increasingly panicky child. "You want to know?" he demanded tersely, cutting both Genta and Mitsuhiko off in mid-complaint; "Fine. Let's go sit down and I'll tell you everything you need." Not everything I COULD tell you, but you don't need that, do you? You just need enough to keep you safe. Sorry, guys, but that's reality; regular murderers and so forth are one thing, the Black Organization is another. This isn't some movie where the little kids can win out over armed gunmen with a few cute stunts and special gadgets. I wish it was.

Across the park a taxi pulled away, bearing three black-clad emissaries of death; Conan felt limp with relief. Nobody died. Lost my chance to chase Vodka, but nobody died. He sighed, traded slightly shaky but resigned looks with Rin, and gave in to the inevitable. "C'mon."

They followed him away from the swings to something that had just been built in the park playground only a few months before, a conglomeration of brightly-colored plastic and metal tubes, panels, slides, ladders and crawlways that vaguely resembled the kind of thing some people bought for their pet hamsters to play in. When Conan had first seen the 'playhouse' (or whatever it was supposed to be) in its finished state, he had been highly dubious about the whole thing; however, he had quickly found that you could settle down in the shade beneath it and be virtually invisible behind the mass of shrieking, hurtling child-bodies that were usually clambering on, over, around and through it.

It was a great place to take a break when you were tired and a pretty good spot to watch people from, too-- if you could ignore the noise, that is. Threading his way through the usual mob of energetic kids, Conan lead his small group to the shady place in the nook beneath the main bulk of the contraption. "Alright," he said, eyeing them a little morosely, "what have you figured out so far? --Ayumi, hang on a sec, will you please?" She nodded and scooted back into the shade, looking a bit uncertain.

At this, Genta and Mitsuhiko scowled at him with the kind of thorough, thunderous disapproval that only two smitten little boys can emit; they subsided slightly when Rin smiled at them and added "Don't worry, he'll explain… or else I will." At that, they grinned at each other and settled back.

Mitsuhiko was the first to talk. "Well... When we were eating, you got all nervous when you were watching some guys that came from across the street." He shrugged and scratched at his head, his freckled face nonplussed; "I thought for a minute you were gonna take off running, you were so scared. That big guy in the black coat looked mean… is he a murderer from one of our cases?" he asked eagerly.

Genta poked him with one stubby finger. "Baka, if he was a murderer he'd be in jail. Besides, we haven't had a lot of cases lately." He sighed gustily in disappointment, picking up where his friend had left off. "Conan-kun, that was kind of weird-- you don't usually get scared. Nervous sometimes… but not scared, not even when people point guns." With that rather unusual insight, Genta-kun cocked his head a little to the side and peered questioningly at the smaller boy. "Why were you so worried about those guys? I mean, they looked kinda rough, yeah, but we've met lots scarier-looking criminals--"

Ayumi could only contain herself for so long. She shook her head vehemently. "YOU'RE being a baka, Genta-kun! We've also met lots of people who looked really nice but who were murderers or thieves or--" She skidded to an abrupt halt at the word 'thieves', flushing and looking away; Conan sighed, nodding.

"Let me put it this way, everybody-- sometimes the bad guys really DO wear black." He then spent the next twenty minutes or so giving a modified explanation of the Black Organization, doing his best to downplay the 'organization' part of the whole thing. The less they know, the less they can let slip; I mean, they're great kids but… they're still kids. I don't want them disappearing because they said the wrong thing in a public place. I can just SEE Mitsuhiko and Genta 'sneaking' through a crowd at the train station or wherever, pointing out every black trenchcoat in sight and yelling "There's one!" at the top of their lungs. All they'd have to do would be to pinpoint the wrong person and they'd end up on a Missing Child poster.

Mitsuhiko shifted impatiently, sitting crosslegged with his back against a brightly-painted support girder. "So these guys in the black outfits are… sort of like… yakuza or something? There's not just a few of them, there's a LOT of them?" he hazarded, frowning. Both his and Genta's faces were intent and more than a little puzzled; the Young Detectives had dealt with all sorts of scary people since their first case-- why should these be any different?

Rin had kept silent for the most part up until now, but at that she leaned forward, shaking her head. "Mitsuhiko-kun, do you remember that movie you saw last year? The American one about the gangsters?" She had taken the entire group to a foreign film festival, mostly to watch the new Disney flicks but also to catch a few subtitled older movies; Mitsuhiko had been very impressed with The Godfather, though the others had spent more time watching animated classics like Sleeping Beauty and Robin Hood (she had wondered at the time why Conan and Ai had so adamantly refused to watch Peter Pan; in retrospect, she could understand.)

He nodded vigorously, understanding dawning-- and the first touches of fear. Beside him, Genta scowled at the ground, his heavy brows drawing down. "So what do we do if we see some of these guys? Call the police?"

Ayumi rolled her eyes; the little girl sat behind Rin, busily (if inexpertly) braiding her friend's hair into long pigtails on either side. Despite his remaining case of nerves Conan had to fight back a grin; he hadn't seen Ran wear that particular hairstyle since she was… well, since she was in grade-school, actually… "Weren't you listening, Genta-kun? Conan-kun said that they've got spies all over the place, in the police-station and in offices and-- and everywhere. So we can't call the police if we see them-- and anyway, how will we know if it's THEM? Lots of people wear black jackets and coats and hats and stuff." She fastened off the first braid with an elastic hairband and blinked, considering. "My dad's got one; so does my mom."

With the casualness of close friends, Mitsuhiko whapped the larger boy on top of the head. "Baka. MY dad's got one too, and I know he's not one of the bad guys--"

Genta-kun whapped him back, and the discussion was momentarily tabled while the two boys scuffled like a pair of puppies beneath the playhouse. Conan sighed, rubbing his temples; he had a headache that felt almost larger than his head. "Are you two listening at all? This is SERIOUS."

Ayumi plaited a handful of Rin's long hair, concentrating. "We know, Conan-kun; really, we do." From behind Rin's head her young eyes looked at him thoughtfully. "You worry too much; we'll be careful, won't we? Genta-kun? Mitsuhiko-kun?"

The two playground warriors paused in their scuffle, fists clutching each other's clothing and dirt on their faces. "'Course we will. Aren't we always?" Mitsuhiko picked himself up from the ground, his spiky hair waving wildly at the world. "Just because we're kids doesn't mean we're stupid, you know." Genta grunted in agreement and scooted back a little to give his friend room, their disagreement instantly forgotten just like a thousand others before it had been.

*

"I wish I knew if they really understood," muttered Conan sotto voce as he and Rin trailed behind Rita-kun and the rest, wandering across the park towards their bus-stop. "And I wish I could be sure they won't do anything stupid at the first sight of a black trenchcoat." He shoved at his glasses; today they had been particularly irksome about sliding down his nose. "But most of all," he finished sourly, "I wish I knew what the hell Vodka and those other two were doing in the park."

Rin glanced at him sympathetically; her face was dusty and her hair had begun to come loose from its braids (she tended to play hard, as if trying to catch up with his one-year lead in their shared second childhood.) "Ayumi-kun's right, you know: you DO worry too much. Look, you can't watch them every minute, can you? You're just going to have to trust to their good sense..." Her voice trailed away at his somewhat dubious stare and she wrinkled her nose at him, sticking out a tongue. "Oh, come on, Shinichi-- they're NOT idiots, and they've seen enough at this point to be a little more careful than most kids. Didn't you tell me a while back that sometimes kids are brighter than adults? Self-preservation, I think you said." He still looked unconvinced, and she sighed. "Well, you've warned them; what else can you do? At least now they know what to look out for."

He sighed as well, reluctantly conceding that she was probably right. "And Ayumi-kun didn't spill our secret to the other two; thought for a minute there our gooses were cooked but good." He kicked at a pebble, sending it rolling as he glanced up; a little ways ahead the little girl in question was practicing her juggling again, occasionally dropping a stone or two (she had explained that it was a lot harder to juggle while you walked) and scooping it up before starting again. She really IS getting pretty good at that; I just wish she had a different teacher...

As if she had felt his eyes on her, Ayumi glanced up and smiled at him; catching her stones neatly in one hand and tucking them into her right pocket, she dropped back a little to wait for he and Rin. "Hey, Conan-kun? Want to see a magic trick?"

Huh? "Uh, sure…" He blinked at her a little uncertainly. She grinned at him, a little smirk that looked slightly un-Ayumi-like but oddly familiar on her face as she held up her empty hands in display. "What kind of magic trick?" This can NOT end well, considering who she's getting these tricks from... and why does that little smile look so-- so unsettling?  He had deep forebodings.

Ayumi continued to grin. "A good one. Nothing in my hands, right, Conan-kun? Nothing up my sleeves?"

"You're not *wearing* sleeves," he pointed out; beside him Rin giggled.

"That's not the point," Ayumi informed her friend loftily. Then she reached towards him, her fingers brushing his ear. "If I had sleeves, I wouldn't have anything hidden in them anyway… but YOU'VE got something hidden on you--" And she held out her right hand again; this time a slightly grubby piece of wrapped candy lay in her palm. "Look what I found in your ear!"

He did his best to be a good audience, as expected; anything else would have disappointed her. "That was in my EAR? No way! You made it appear out of thin air…" Rin giggled again, and he took the candy from his friend's hand. "Thanks, Ayumi-kun." Conan gave her a slightly lopsided smile. "Next time I'll make sure I wash my ears better when I get up."

His young friend laughed, falling in beside him as they continued walking. "You'd better-- I might find something else in there, something icky. And then Rin wouldn't want to sit by you at school because you'd have ear boogers..."

He raised an eyebrow, amused and more than a little appalled. "EAR boogers?!?" Where the hell did she come up with THAT one? Rin was convulsed with laughter by now, hugging her stomach as she walked.

Ayumi gave a pleased nod, grinning even more. "Ear boogers."

"Who taught you THAT?" He had a nasty suspicion. "Was it--?" Conan looked at her inquiringly, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The gradeschooler nodded emphatically. "Bingo!" she sang out, and he realized suddenly why her smirk had looked so familiar: she had borrowed it from her teacher.  Oh, WONDERFUL.  She'd better not learn any more of his bad habits. 

But now the grin was faltering a little, and her eyes held sympathy as well as merriment. "Are you… better now, Conan-kun? Not so scared anymore? You had me sort of worried earlier..."

The former Kudo Shinichi ducked his head, flushing a little at this. "Uh, yeah. Thanks, Ayumi-kun; thanks a lot. I do feel better-- and as long as everybody's careful about-- about keeping away from the bad guys, then--"

She nodded in understanding. "We will be. We said we would, didn't we? And we're your friends; friends tell the truth to each other..." Ayumi shot him and Rin a look that was terribly knowing for such a young girl.

And then, much to his astonishment, she reached over and snatched his glasses right off his face; popping them onto her own nose she pushed them into place with one finger, put her hands on her hips, tilted her head to one side just a little and (with a lopsided smile remarkably like his own) proclaimed in a VERY Conan-ish voice:

"...after all, there's ONLY ONE TRUTH ."

He stared, jaw dropping; Rin sat down flat on the ground right where she was, speechless and incapable of walking due to sheer hilarity. Ayumi also dissolved into a fit of giggles, and the next few minutes were filled with the laughter of several very good friends.

Kid? I'll get you for this.

* * *

Kuroba Kaito took a deep, deep breath full of as much apprehension as oxygen; in fact, if there were such things as apprehension molecules, he probably would have been in the process of suffocating due to their crowding the air in the room out.

You're a big boy now; you can do this. You can DO this. C'mon, you coward, pick up the phone and call your mom. What can she do, ground you for life?  He pictured Nakamori reading a note that read 'Sorry, Nakamori-san, I can't do any more heists; I've been sent to my room by my mother until I turn twenty-one.' He'd blow a gasket.

… and speaking of blowing a gasket...  Kaito stared at the telephone as if waiting for it to bite him.

From up the stairs Aoko's voice called down: "Did you call her yet?" She had volunteered to neaten up their bedrooms if he would take care of the breakfast dishes, which he had just finished.

"Uh… no, not yet..." He tried to think of a good reason to prevaricate further, other than avoiding being yelled at; a disapproving silence from the second floor was followed by the thumps of Aoko's footsteps on the wooden floor. She peered around the upstairs doorjamb at him, scowling, and gestured threateningly at him with the pillow that she was holding in one hand; Kaito grimaced in reply, then heaved a reluctant sigh and picked up the receiver. Might as well get this over with before Aoko decides to feed me that pillow.

A few rings later and he was talking to his Aunt Miharu-- not really an aunt per se; actually the woman was something like a second or third cousin to his mother, but they had known each other forever, so... "--I'm doing just great, Auntie; school's going fine, and I-- Uh, a girlfriend?… H-heh, well... Um, I've been awfully busy with schoolwork to-- Right, right." He rolled his eyes; he had almost forgotten just what kind of conversationalist his aunt was. A voice like a foghorn, a memory like an elephant's, and the cross-examination skills of a member of the Spanish Inquisition. But she's got a good heart, or so Kaasan says.

"No, Aunt Miharu, everything's okay here at home; I just wanted to pass along a couple of messages to Kaasan... what?… Oh; oh, that's good-- I know she likes visiting her old friends; uhhh... really? Great." Natter, natter, natter, natter, with an accompanying list of names he half-vaguely recalled from past conversations with his mother; apparently the two women had been touching base with old school buddies over the last week or so. If Auntie's doing the driving, God help all the motorists of Japan. Kaito winced; he had vivid memories of his last ride in his baasan's car. It had been enough to make a person foster a fervent belief in luck, just so that *something* was around to give you a possible chance at survival.

"Is Kaasan there--? Oh, good… Yes, I'll hold, love you too, Auntie Miharu, seeya later..." He waited, twisting and retwisting the phone-cord through the fingers of one hand. This is gonna be an interesting phone call; I've been putting this off for ages, which really was sort of stupid, I admit. But how do you deal with explaining to your mom that not only do you know about your dad's 'night job' but that you're growing up to be just LIKE him?

He fidgeted. Somewhere along the line of the wait a deck of cards appeared in his hands, and he laid off tormenting the phone cord in lieu of shuffling them back and forth, absentmindedly lining them up in a succession of winning poker hands. Full House… Royal Flush… Dead Man's Hand… Gunshot Straight… Five of a Kind… Wild Royal... C'mon, Kaasan, here I went and nerved myself up to call you and you're making me WAIT?!?  Eheh… guess I could call back later, MUCH later--

"Hello? Kaito?"  Oh well; so much for *that* idea. The tinny voice on the other end of the line sounded concerned. "Is everything alright?"

He temporized. "Yeah… Well, mostly it's alright. Sort of. Mostly sort of. Ummm… Kaasan? There's-- something we need to discuss. But first, how long were you planning to stay with Aunt Miharu?" Oh jeeze, this is NOT gonna be easy.

"Another three or four days… why?" Great; now she sounded really concerned. Way to go, Thief Boy. Screw this up and she'll be home on the next train, which you do NOT want; so talk fast.  Kaito gritted his teeth and continued.

"Do you… think you could stay for a few more? Maybe a week or so, or, uhhh… and it might be a good thing for you and Auntie to travel around a bit, you know? Go stay in some hotels out of town, see the sights, maybe go someplace you've never been before…" He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but underneath everything Kaito could feel the little bubble of fear trying to break through to the surface; he was desperately afraid that if his mother came back home she would be in trouble. It wasn't that he really thought anybody was after him in his "civilian" identity-- aside from Jii, Aoko and Ayumi (and the Shrimp AND his angry girlfriend, aaagh), who knew he was Kaitou Kid, after all?-- but ever since the night before he had had this niggling little barb of pure, unadulterated *worry* prodding him every time he thought about his mother.

She needs to stay away, just long enough for me to make sure things are safe. That's all-- it's just a precaution. I mean, while I'm Kuroba Kaito I should be safe and all that, and so should she... but… Ah, hell. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're NOT out to get you. OR your mom. And I'm the king of paranoia these days. Well, maybe the prince; Kudo might actually surpass me on the Nervous Jitters Richter Scale, which is no big surprise when you think about it.

His mom was talking again, her voice sliding into the "Commando Kaasan Interrogation Mode" that he had been dreading. "Kaito? I think you had better explain. Right now, please. I'm waiting..."

Eeergh. When she got THAT tone in her voice, it was time to lay all the cards on the table.  Deep breath. Okay, go for it.

"Kaasan?" Kaito swallowed the nervous lump that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat; it was hard to talk around it. "Kaasan, I… know. About Oyaji, I mean." There. You've started. Now finish it.

"--What… what do you mean, Kaito?"  Kuroba Chikage suddenly sounded very wary.

Her son sighed. "Kaasan, I really do know. About Oyaji, about what he used to do-- who he used to BE. And… and I know *you* know about *me* knowing. We just haven't talked about it, ever." He laughed a little desperately, hoping like hell that the pause on the other end of the line wasn't his mother having a heart attack or something of the sort. "We live in the same house-- how COULD you miss what I've been doing all this time? You're no idiot."

Silence, deep enough to bury a body in. Kaito drew a shaky breath and continued on.

"I don't know if you've talked to, to Jii lately-- you know him, though, don't you? He always clams up when I mention your name-- or if you've stayed out of things completely. Doesn't matter, really. I just… um... well... See, there's been some trouble lately, and I don't want it to slosh over onto you. It--"

"Trouble?"  His mother's obvious alarm broke through her guarded silence. "Kaito, what KIND of trouble?" An indrawn breath from the other party made him blink; he had expected her to yell, not get frightened. "You're not-- you haven't been… caught… have you?"

Her son laughed a startled laugh, feeling just a bit weak in the knees. He sat down on an overstuffed chair, hugging a pillow unconsciously to him; behind him he could hear Aoko thumping down the stairs and walking into the room, where she paused in the doorway and listened. "NO, Kaasan, I haven't-- I'm calling you from home, *not* from jail." He closed his eyes in relief, feeling somewhat better; she wasn't yelling at him! "But… Kaasan, there're these guys that've been showing up lately when I've been-- uh, busy-- and I'm pretty certain that they're the ones responsible for Oyaji's death. They wear black most of the time, and they're after this gemstone called the Pandora Gem and-- um, Kaasan? Kaasan, are you there? Hey, Kaasan?!?" From the other end of the conversation had come a distinct *CLUNK!* as if someone had dropped their phone.

Scrabbling noises brought his mother back onto the phone line. "I… I'm fine, I'm here-- Kaito. Kaito, LISTEN to me. You've got to leave-- you've got to get away, as far away as possible, and you've got to go RIGHT NOW. No arguments-- just grab some clothes and go; there's some spare cash in my jewelry box upstairs, use that for a train-ticket. I don't want you involved with--"

"Kaasan, it's too *late* for that!" He swallowed hard; she didn't sound frightened, she sounded terrified. "They're already after me, and they're after Nakamori-san too-- you know, Aoko's dad? He bit off a bit more than he could chew and now he's a target as well, and I can't leave Aoko anyway." Kaito took another deep breath, his fingers twisting the phone cord again unconsciously. Behind him he heard Aoko step quietly forward, leaning the broom in her hands against the back of the couch; her hand came down to rest very gently on top of his head in a touch so light he could scarcely feel it. Gratefully he reached up to brush her fingers briefly with his; she sat the half-full glass of ice and cold water she was holding in her other hand down on the table beside him, leaning just a little.

"But-- but Kaito, you-- Kaito, you don't know what you're getting into!!" His mother's voice was thick with anguish; was she crying? God, he hoped not. "Those men, the ones in black... Yes, I've known what you were doing; long ago your father made me promise that I wouldn't interfere when you-- when you started--" She broke off, tears clogging the words. "I always knew that when you found out you'd… follow in your father's footsteps, just like he followed in his father's; you're so much like him, Kaito, SO much like him that you wouldn't believe it. So… when you-- when you began going out at night… like he used to… I didn't say anything. I had made a promise and I had to keep it; I had to trust you, just like I trusted my husband. But Kaito--"

He listened, heart beating hard.

"Kaito, he always thought he'd be here to train you! He thought he'd be right alongside you, teaching you and-- and he's not ; yes, I have spoken to Jii now and then, and he's told me, just a little.  Just enough to know that you're everything your father ever hoped you would be-- everything that I always knew you could be."  There was a strange note in his mother's voice then, one he had never thought to hear:

Pride.

She was proud of him, of what he was doing and what he had done. She was proud that her son was the Kaitou Kid. And in that moment Kuroba Kaito felt his heart turn clean over in his chest, felt some strained, fragile place that he had been afraid to test or touch during his career as the Phantom Thief give a twinge and begin to mend.

His mother was not ashamed of him.

And that felt like…

No-one who ever had parents worthy of being loved is ever really past wanting approval from them; no-one. And hearing his mother tell him that she was *proud* of what he had done (when, secretly, he'd wondered if she would be ashamed of it) was like being given a ticket out of Purgatory. Her son felt a little dizzy, a little giddy; Do not pass Go, do not go to Jail-- you WIN!

"But… Kaito?"

He paused in his mental high-fiving of himself; her tone had changed. Uh oh.

"…You really should have told me, you know. What did you think I was going to do, send you to your room?"  His mother's chagrined reproach (and more than a little impatience) was quite clearly audible over the speaker, and behind him Kaito heard Aoko stifle a snort of amusement.

"Um, well…" he temporized, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him that she could read minds. After all, she WAS his mother; mothers did that. "I didn't want to get you mixed up in it-- I mean, I knew there was no way you could've been married to Oyaji and not known about him, but… Kaasan? I just didn't want you to worry. It seems sort of stupid now-- obviously you were going to worry whether I talked to you or not, but I guess I just didn't think about that at the time." Kaito knew his tone was becoming increasingly sheepish, but somehow this conversation had him reduced to about a twelve-year-old level. How DID she manage to do that? It had to be another of those 'mom' skills, like the mind-reading. "And besides, I didn't know how much you had been involved in Oyaji's, uh, activities..."

Across the miles he heard his mother give a familiar, somewhat exasperated sigh; it broke through her fears for a moment, making her sound much more like the woman who had raised him. Kuroba Chikage was a strong-willed person with something of a temper, though well-controlled. "Kaito, I know everything there was to know about what he did-- and if you've looked into my family's history any at all, you'll understand why it didn't bother me too much. And then there's my own past, and how your father and I met... let's just say you take after us both, shall we?  But we'll discuss that some other time."  She was silent for a second or so, leaving her son wondering (Past? What past--?) "Some of us have skeletons in our family closets… but then, some of us don't mind having them. One family's shame is another family's treasured secret… and if there's one thing I'm sure of," and he could swear that she was almost smiling on the other end of the line for a bare moment, "it's that nothing you could do would ever be something that either I or your father would be ashamed of. Your ancestors either, Kaito; Jii told me exactly why you're doing what you're doing, and… while I may worry like a mother always will, I was also a kaitou's wife for many years. I understand, even if I'm afraid for you."

That was the sort of thing that was hard to answer, especially considering the Daihatsu-sized lump that had taken up residence in his throat. Aoko was silent; leaning forward a little, she rested her chin on top of his head and listened quietly. On the table the melting ice clinked quietly in its glass.

"Now," continued his mother, clearing her throat a little shakily as the fear and worry seeped back, "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, you need to get to safety. Those men you're having problems with-- Kaito, I do know about them, and I don't want any arguments out of you here; I want you to go upstairs and take the money I just mentioned, buy a train ticket and… there's a place I'd like you to go, someone I want you to visit. A relative; you've never met him, but it's time, it's time for all sorts of things, you need to--"

"Kaasan..." Her son hesitated, chewing on his lip. "There's-- well, there's something I need to tell you. Something *else,* I mean."

"--what?"

He felt Aoko shift slightly, and her hands tightened just the tiniest bit on his shoulders; she knew what he was about to say. "Um. This is a little hard to explain, so... please bear with me. See, lots of things have happened in the last few days, and..."

There was an unnerved, stifled sort of sound on the other end of the line. "Kaito…" Great; she was getting scared again.

"Okay. Uh, how would you feel about-- about somebody outside the family knowing about me and about Oyaji?" He winced and braced himself; this was the hard part, really. Hey-- wonder who it is she wants me to visit? Thought I didn't really have any relatives, or almost… which side of the family are we talking about, anyway? I mean, both sets of grandparents have been dead for years, there's only Aunt Miharu left on her side, I don't have a single cousin that I've ever even heard of, so--?

--She's being awfully quiet, isn't she--?

...yeah; she sure is. I suspect I've just dug myself a deep, deep hole. Hope I'm tall enough to boost Aoko out of it so she can pull me up.

After a very long moment, Kuroba Chikage spoke to her son in a careful little voice that quivered with iron control. "Kaito. Kaito. One thing we do NOT do in this family is bring in outsiders, not unless we're either in debt to them for our lives or we intend to marry them. Or both. That's a cardinal rule, and… the ramifications of telling an outsider are..." She paused, obviously thinking hard. Then she continued on in tones of dread: "Who is it? No stalling, please, not this time. Who ?"

He swallowed hard; Aoko's hands clenched in his t-shirt. "Uh, it's Aoko."

Really. BIG. Silence.

His mother's voice had the most peculiar sound to it. "You… told Aoko," she said slowly, a bizarre mixture of emotions supplanting the fear that had lurked in her words before. "You told the daughter of the man in charge of the Kaitou Kid Task Force your secret? AND your father's? --Kaito, if there isn't a very, *very* good reason for this, your great-uncle is going to-- dear God, I don't know what he'll do. I--" She broke off, chopping the sentence short as if with an axe.

Uncle? I have an uncle? A GREAT-uncle? I thought all my relatives except Kaasan and Auntie Miharu were dead-- and what the HELL does my uncle (great-uncle? whatever) have to do with the family secrets?

"Kaasan? Are you okay? Look," he said a little desperately; "I sort of HAD to tell Aoko-- I mean, she found out by accident in a way, but she-- Kaasan, she-- you said something about the family not bringing in outsiders unless we're in debt to 'em, right? Look, I got hurt, and Aoko helped save me. If she hadn't helped me, I'd-- well, I'd be a lot worse off than I am now. It was... bad; and she bandaged me up, got me home safe--"

The woman on the other end of the line snapped back into the conversation as if on a rubber band. "Hurt? Kaito, what happened, are you alright? Those men, they didn't…?"

Ah, crap. " No, no," he said quickly and soothingly. "No, I'm okay. And… err, Kaasan? Has anybody on either side of the family ever-- well, ever been really good at healing fast? I mean, like supernaturally good?"

Maybe it wasn't the Gem after all; maybe it's just me, and I sort of rubbed off onto Aoko...?

Wariness and confusion warred in Kuroba Chikage's voice. "No, not that I've ever heard of. Why? And are you SURE you're all right now? I can come straight home--"

He sighed; so much for the 'rubbing off' idea; they'd have to face the little matter of whatever screwball thing the Gem had done to them sooner or later, but… preferably later. Much later. "UH-uh. Please, the last thing I want you to do is come home right now." On that he was firm; he had to be. Phantom Thieves were not allowed to scream for their mommies, no matter how appealing the idea might sound-- "Lemmee check things out around here a bit first, okay? I'm fine now, we're BOTH fine. Aoko's cool with my secret" (the hands on his shoulders tightened again and Kaito bit back a slight yelp) "--or mostly cool, anyway. You know how she looked up to Oyaji when we were kids… Don't worry about her; we can trust her." (The hands relaxed again, and he reached back up without looking to tug lightly at a strand of Aoko's wild hair that was tickling his ear.)

The silence on the other end of the conversation seemed to convey both doubt and worry; Kaito pressed on. "Kaasan, you always said to trust your instincts; and Oyaji-- he always said that it never hurt to bet on a sure thing, right? Well, this is a sure thing. She won't betray us."

Not yet. And even when she DOES tell, I can't see it as a betrayal, not at all. I don't know what'll happen, but somehow I believe it'll turn out alright. Guess I'm just stupid that way, but I really do believe that somehow it'll be okay. We just have to trust her, the way I've always trusted her since we were little kids together in front of the Clock Tower. It sounds hokey but my gut says it's okay… and so does my heart.

…and besides, well, it's too late NOW. Don't think I'll mention that to my kaasan, though. And I don't think I'll tell her about 'Yumi-chan or Kudo or Kudo's girlfriend just yet either; I'd rather not be an orphan before I have to be, thank you very much.

After that he conversation went quite a ways further into detail; Kuroba Chikage was a very intelligent woman, and by the end of it her son felt like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Aagh; Kaasan... it's a good thing Jii checks the phone lines regularly for taps, just in case; if anybody HAD been listening, they'd know everything about me, Aoko, the bad guys and their imaginary friend. I think Jii's being paranoid, but… what was I thinking earlier, that just because you're paranoid, et cetera, et cetera?

Aoko had settled a little further down by now, leaning against him from behind with her arms folded so that her chin rested half on her clasped hands and half on his shoulder. She was awfully quiet; Kaito was beginning to become wary of quiet women, so he reached back with his free hand and poked her gently. "Hey, Aoko? You falling asleep back there?" he muttered out of one side of his mouth as his mother began yet another attempt to prod him into leaving his house.

"No, silly, I'm listening," she said softly. Her voice was ever-so-slightly nervous, and Kaito sighed to himself. Great; now SHE'S scared. So long as the baddies don't know I'm Kid we have nothing to worry about. Why am I the only one who sees this?

Then again, if I'm so sure we're safe, why am I arguing so hard with my kaasan for her to stay out of town just a bit longer?

He shrugged mentally and went back to his conversation, fighting off feelings of uneasy foreboding.

At last his mother calmed enough that a compromise was reached. Kaito would contact her every morning and evening via his Aunt Miharu's cellphone, she would do a bit of traveling...

...and Jii would be on the next train home. Kaito grimaced, wondering just how Jii would react to Aoko's being in on the whole secret identity thing. He'll probably play matchmaker... which, now that I think about it, might not be such a bad thing...  Kaito felt his eyebrows rise ever so slightly, a grin trying to steal out onto his face. 'Course, we may just be a step or two ahead of him there...

...and then again, he might decide to turn tail and play chaperon instead, which would be a MAJOR bummer; you just never know with Jii.

Promising faithfully to keep in touch, be careful, stay away from men in black trenchcoats and eat his vegetables, Kaito at last ended the long conversation. The young magician sighed a long, long sigh of relief; all in all, the conversation could have gone much worse...

He had been dreading it for so long; why? Granted, it had been hard… but so was avoiding his mother's eyes every morning when she read the latest write-up on Kaitou Kid's heists in the newspaper (her little habit of reading interesting articles out loud had nearly made him bite right through a chopstick more than once.) Shaking himself mentally, her son reached over and picked up Aoko's half-full glass, finishing the contents in a single gulp. She was still sort of draped across his shoulders-- not that he minded. "Well, you heard her; guess you'll have to marry me so this relative of mine won't shove me down a well or whatever.” A snort was all he got from that, which was a little disturbing. “Aoko? You okay?"

"Mmhmm. Just… thinking. Worrying, I guess. Kaito? What if those men that shot you *do* know who you are? They'll come looking for us, won't they?" He could feel her shift restlessly behind him.

"Aokoooo… not you too. C'mon-- believe me, we're *safe!* Well, except for Kudo and company, and I'll deal with him later. Think I'll pay him a visit tonight and have a little chat-- that ought to rattle his cage a bit. Aoko, we'll be fine-- Look, if anybody tries to break in or anything I'll hold 'em at bay with bad jokes while you beat 'em to death with your mop, okay?" He laughed, trying to defuse the tension present in her face as his friend stood up, picking up her broom as she went.

She raised one eyebrow, gesturing with what she held. "Broom, not mop," she growled. "And your jokes would be enough to do them in; you wouldn't need MY help."

Better, better. That sounds more like my Aoko. And now, a few finishing touches...

Kaito chuckled, leaning over sideways until his head rested on the arm of the chair, the glass full of ice resting on his chest. "Riiiiiiight. WHO nearly choked to death on her lunch the other day at school when I told you the one about the chicken, the sheep costume, the Scotsman and the pair of pantyhose, hmm? Well? Even Hakuba-kun was laughing at THAT one… And what about the dissolving pencil trick I pulled on Keiko last Wednesday? and the joke I told your dad about the squid and Mahatma Ghandi, or the one about the monkey and the eightball? He laughed so hard he almost swallowed his mustache!"

Aoko merely stuck her tongue out at him, glowering just a bit; but the hint of a smile was hiding behind the glower like the sun behind a thundercloud.

She just needs one more little push and she'll be out of that funk of hers; I hate to see her worry... Oh, WHAT the hell. Remember the Kaitou Kid Motto: "He Who Hesitates Is Toast!" 'Sides, I could use a workout myself--

And with that the son of Kuroba Toichi carefully judged his aim, his distance, Aoko's relative position and the aerodynamic qualities of an airborne ice-cube; he calculated velocity and angle... and with great deliberation tossed one up and backwards over his and Aoko's shoulder as she turned away, depositing it neatly down the front of her shirt.

"AAACK!"

Simultaneously swearing vociferously and attempting to remove the chunk of frozen water from her bra, Aoko dove for the young thief as if jet-propelled; Kaito sprang to his feet, already ducking as Aoko's broom skimmed his skull with a swoosh! of bristles. "Too slow as usual-- c'mon, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?" He jerked to one side as the business end of the broom thwapped against the wall just past his shoulder, accompanied with a particularly pithy little observation; "Whew-- if the cat heard THAT, it'd leave your tongue alone WHOOPS!!" At her growled reply and fast attack he fell backwards into a handspring, newly-knit muscles moving effortlessly and without pain.

"Hey, Aoko--" Kaito bounced from the floor onto a sofa cushion, narrowly avoiding a swat; "--didja ever hear about the teacher, the cop and the thief that all died and went to Heaven?" He flipped over the back of the couch and then scuttled across the floor, beaming from ear to ear: it felt REALLY good to move without hurting again! "They got told by an angel that they'd each have to answer a question, and if they answered it--" he ducked a near-miss; "--they'd be allowed in. The teacher was asked 'What famous ship was sunk by an iceberg?' and she said 'The Titanic', so she was let in. The cop was asked 'How many people died on the Titanic?' and after a couple of hours scratching his head--" WHAP! Another near-miss. "--he said 'Fifteen hundred' and was allowed in too. And THEN--"

As a lamp teetered on the edge of an end-table, Kaito scooped it up and lobbed it towards Aoko, aiming carefully; she caught it automatically in one arm, setting it down and leaping after him with a growl. "--and then what? The thief screwed up, right?" She charged him, eyes on fire with furious laughter.

Just look at her. She's so pretty when she's lit up like this, like the fuse on a stick of dynamite! "--and THEN the angel looked at the thief and said 'Okay; name them all!'" He popped up on the other side of the coffee table like a rabbit from a hole, grinning like a fool.

The Inspector's daughter glared at him, panting, broom at the ready; her hair was in her eyes and her chest was going up and down in a way that was distinctly distracting. "And he got kicked out, right? Just like I said!"

Kaito laughed in triumph, wickedness gleaming in his eyes. "No, no, that's the joke; see, the thief had already picked the angel's pocket and stolen the key to the Pearly Gates, so it didn't really matter if he knew 'em or not..."

"Aaaaargh! @#$%!!"

"Temper, temper, Aoko-chaaan..."

**swing-WHACK!**

He grinned at her in encouragement as he did a little jig across the coffee table, bare feet soundless on the wood. "Try again, you're getting closer…" **WHACKAWHACKA!** "Ooh, missed me by a whisker! C'mon, you can do better than that--"

They chased each other across, around, over and through the room, clattering from wall to wall and from couch to chair to table to floor and back again, Kaito's laughting taunts mixing with the cursing of the Inspector's daughter in the way it had for so long that it was now second nature for them both. It made a peculiar, familiar kind of music, sweeping away the morning's stress and tension with its rhythm and emphasis, and they only halted at last when Aoko was speechless with exhaustion and wringing wet with sweat.

*

@#$%!! Too tired to curse him aloud (and not meaning a word of it really, now that the ice-cube had melted), Aoko gasped for breath and propped herself up with her weapon.

"WHOOOF!!!" Kaito flopped bonelessly onto the floor, hair straying into his eyes as usual. "Guess we're 'bout as healed up as we're gonna get, aren't we? Good workout." He laughed, blowing an errant strand aside where it crossed his nose. "If anybody ever decides to set up a dojo for teaching Household Fu, they'll take you on as head shishou in a heartbeat." His eyes twinkled up at hers through his shaggy bangs where she struggled to catch her breath just inside the door. "Just think... there you'd be, your adoring students all gathered at your feet while you explained the merits of mops and brooms and how to kill a man with three pieces of lint and a Dust-Buster..."

At his quip she swatted at him half-heartedly but missed as Kaito flattened beneath the broom's bristles. Aoko wiped at her forehead, winded but laughing breathlessly. "You--" (pant) "--you--" (gasp, pant) "--did that deliberately," (pant, pant) "didn't you?"

The young thief grinned at her fondly from his place on the floor, only one eye visible. "Yep. Figured you needed to blow off some steam… and it didn't do me any harm either." He spread his arms above his head, stretching like a cat and yawning; his eyes closed as his face relaxed, lines that she had barely noticed before softening at their corners. Aoko allowed her broom to slide against the end-table and joined him on the rug, her back against the couch and her legs crossed loosely. They sat so close together that his hair tickled her ankles from where his head lay just beyond her feet.

She wiped away a bead of sweat, her muscles relaxing; after the activity of a moment before, it felt so good just to sit here, watching Kaito... A pulse beat at the base of her friend's throat beneath the smooth skin; his eyes were closed, and from her vantage point directly behind his head she could see how thick and dark his hair was, springing in wild disarray. An impulse (the same one that had sent her after him with her broom? Maybe) made her reach out, and before she knew what she was doing her fingers threaded lightly through the tangled strands, smoothing them.

Kaito's eyelids quivered for a second as if they would open; but then he lay as still and relaxed as before as Aoko's hands gently, slowly stroked his hair back from his forehead. She couldn't quite say how or why she had started doing that, but somehow it seemed to be a good idea. Some things just didn't need to be over-analyzed.

Like this moment, for instance; impulses could be a good thing. They had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the boy in front of her, the boy she had known most of her life… everything to do with how his breathing seemed to catch slightly in his throat as she tucked a strand behind his ear, her finger lingering for a brief instant. Everything to do with the way he just *let* her smooth his hair back, *trusted* her touch.

It felt… good. Unsettling, but good.

Soft… his hair always looks so wild; who'd ever guess it would feel so soft? It was sweat-damp and silky, refusing to lay neatly no matter how much her fingers tried to tame it into submission; she liked that. It was a very Kaito kind of thing. She liked the way he looked right now, too, all loose-limbed and quiet (how often was he quiet with anybody else? Hardly ever), his hands lying idle and open to the light; and she liked the way he felt, as her fingertip skimmed down along the edges of his face, forehead to cheekbone to jawline and around to brush feather-soft against his lips.

A year ago I wouldn't have done this. A year ago I would have been sort of shocked to even THINK about doing this.

One hand came up then, catching hers; and he kissed her fingertips lightly, as lightly as she had touched him. It seemed only natural to return the favor… and when she did his hand turned against her lips, sliding into her hair and drawing her down to him.

The sunlight was warm on her back-- in fact, the entire world seemed warm and strangely slow, with Aoko's dark hair falling all around their faces like a curtain. The only thing that felt real for a few perfect seconds was the gentle, insistent caress of Kaito's hand in her hair and the way his mouth pressed against hers, as warm as the sunlight but much sweeter.

Kaito...

The kiss deepened for a second, two seconds, and then they both let it go; it wasn't time yet for that, not yet. But the potential hung in the air between them like a promise.

When she drew away, her movement came not as an interruption of the moment but as a natural sort of conclusion; still leaning forward with one palm on the floor and the other against Kaito's shoulder, she blinked dazedly down at him. His eyelids were still closed; the pulse still beat in his throat, harder now-- and a slow little smile curved his lips.

"What brought that on?" he asked her quietly without opening his eyes. "Whatever it was, I'd like to thank it."

Funny; she wasn't blushing at all. The heat in her face felt like something else, something akin to the sunlight and the slow, steady beat of her heart. Embarrassment had no part in it, and she smiled back unseen as she answered. "No idea. Me too, though."

He sighed, a long sigh full of any number of things-- contentment was one of them, as were a few less comfortable emotions. Lacing his hands behind his head he continued on, his eyes still closed. "Soooo… Tell me, Nakamori Aoko: Whatcha got planned for this afternoon, hmm?"

Aoko shook her head, trying to gather her scattered wits into some semblance of order. "Um. I was thinking of dropping off some more things for my dad… why? Was there something you wanted to work on?" She cocked her head a little to one side, doing her best to banish the thoughts that kept trying to intrude regarding more practice in the fine art of kissing.

Stupid hormones. Wonderful hormones. Not NOW, hormones!

"Well..." Kaito opened one eye, peering innocently through his lashes. "You said you want to help catch the bad guys, right? Right." He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself before blinking up at her with that single dark blue gaze. "Shouldn't have offered, Aoko... but. You did.  So-- how would you feel about becoming an accomplice to, let's see, usually it's breaking and entering, assault, theft, impersonating a member of law enforcement-- oh, and damage to both public and private property?"

"What?"

The thief on the floor stretched again; he cracked his knuckles behind his head and opened the other eye. There might have been a little regret in his gaze, but there was also excitement and anticipation, growing like the spark on the end of a fuse that's just been lit. "You've already said you wanted to help. How do you feel about, oh, active participation?"

“...active...?”

“Well, you didn't think I was just going to leave you behind, did you?”

Chapter Text

Inspector Nakamori Ginzo, long-time member of Tokyo's Finest, carefully closed the door to his rather seedy hotel-room behind him as soundlessly as possible. He glanced shiftily over one shoulder as he started down the staircase, carrying his shoes in one hand and a set of purloined car-keys in the other.

Try to keep ME locked away all safe and secure, will they? The hell with that. Can't do my job stuck in a safe house, can't even watch @#$%!! TV, can't get to a computer-- what're they trying to do, neuter me?  He chewed on his mustache angrily as he crept down the stairs one step at a time; the damned things creaked, and the last thing he wanted to do was alert the officer he had left snoring in his chair back in the room.

Time had finally presented Nakamori with a prime opportunity to sneak out. It was sort of like one of those word problems you got in math when you were about ten or eleven years old, the ones that you just KNEW meant that the teacher hated your guts: 'Officer A and Officer B are charged with preventing Inspector C from leaving the safe house. But Officer A has dozed off and will continue to sleep for about fifteen more minutes until inherent guilt wakes him up; and Officer B has gone down to the corner store for a newspaper. If the trip lasts its usual length, Officer B will be gone for no more than twelve minutes and no less than eight. How much time does this give Inspector C to get the @#$%! out of there before they notice he's gone?'

The Inspector grinned rather nastily. Heh heh. Long enough. It wasn't that he wanted to get his two babysitters in trouble or anything of the sort-- he just didn't want to be party to their imminent slaughter, an event with which was looming increasingly on their personal horizons if he didn't get OUT of there soon .

Nakamori did not handle boredom very well, no, not at all.

*

A little ways down the street, there was an old storefront stoop; the tiles on the two steps were cracked and dingy, and the glass behind the teenager sitting there was clouded with grime both inside and out. The boy himself matched his surroundings-- scuffed black boots, jeans that were stiff with dried sweat and other less savory things, a sweatshirt of some indeterminate color and a black jacket that only looked marginally better than everything else. His face was a match too: nothing unusual, just a worn late-teens scrap of humanity, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to pay attention to, nothing at all. The cigarette he was smoking looked startlingly clean in his hands.

Drawing tobacco-fumes deep into his lungs, the boy leaned back against the smeared glass and looked to his right...

...at the storefront two doors away where the street met a T-intersection. It was much cleaner than most around it (an odd thing since it was empty) and gave a perfectly good reflection of what was happening to the boy's left.

Slowly, carefully, one hand slid into his jacket pocket, gripping the handgun there...

*

Nakamori Ginzo was almost at the bottom of the stairs now, full of self-congratulation (and, perhaps, just the tiniest twinge of guilt.) Finding the car wouldn't be a problem; officers always parked as close to a safe-house entrance as possible to allow for quick exits in case they were found out. Let's see-- anybody around? He poked his head cautiously past the peeling paint of the wall beside him; the cracked sidewalks were only occupied by debris and litter.  About time. And there's the car-- good, they used the old Nissan; it blends in pretty well with the neighborhood. Three seconds to cross the street and I can get back to work.  With another quick scan of the area (woman with shopping bags, kid smoking, store-clerk taping a sign on a window), Nakamori was off.

His hand was on the doorhandle, he was trying to fit the obvious-looking key into the keyhole when he became aware that something was wrong, terribly wrong--

SHIT!

--there was something cold and hard poking him between the shoulderblades and a gruff voice was starting to say, "DROP THE KEYS AND PUT YOUR HANDS Uuuaaaargh!!!"

Reflex is an amazing thing. One elbow back into the diaphragm, a reaching hand there as his assailant bent over with a grunt of pain; the guy didn't drop the gun, though-- dammit, not an amateur, then-- and Nakamori swore as he kicked a pair of feet out from under his attacker and stomped hard on the man's wrist as soon as he went down (you never stomped on the fingers, if you did that you were liable to get either your suspect, yourself or a bystander shot at a level of a few centimeters off the ground.) The man squawked; the gun clattered to the ground and was swiftly toed into the gutter.  Nakamori's raised foot then found a new home on the man's sternum as he flipped him over with an angry hand. Goddamn sneaky little-- let's see who you ARE before I give you something you won't forget--

"Officer B" stared up at him pleadingly, scrabbling at the Inspector's foot with his left hand and making frantic little noises like a fish out of water. The man's eyes had nearly popped out of his skull and his nose was bleeding from his contact with the asphalt.

Ahhhhhh, CRAP. Can't stomp him, then-- busted, just like a rookie. The little shit laid an ambush for me!  Good one too, dammit.  Muttering a number of complicated epithets, the Inspector hauled his croaking co-worker back to his feet.

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open; a worried face peered down at them both as Nakamori grumblingly draped his compatriot's arm over his shoulder and began to help the stricken officer back towards the room. "Uh… sir?" called the other man, his eyes wide. "Is everything okay down there? What're you… doing down… er... never mind." He swallowed the rest of his words as the two came limping back up the wooden steps.

Glumly Nakamori closed the door behind him with a disgusted click, wondering where they had put the First Aid kit. As he lowered his unhappy fellow officer into one of the room's rickety chairs he sighed; I'll bet that goddamned Kid never has days like this.

*

Cursing silently at the lost opportunity, the boy slid his hand back out of his pocket, hiked one shoulder in a shrug and stubbed his cigarette out on the wall before dropping it and moving down the sidewalk, not too fast, not too slow. Nothing to see here, his pace seemed to say, nothing to look at. Nothing at all.

Behind him, a thin thread of smoke rose up from the tiny, glowing coal of his cigarette-butt before it, too, vanished.

* * *

"Kaito?" Nakamori Aoko leaned backwards over the railing of the guestroom balcony, looking up. "I'm ready to go, and Obunaki-keiji'll be here any minute now. Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

A tousled head appeared over the roof's edge above her; hanging upside down, her friend's face was framed by his wild hair against the early afternoon sky like a darkened sunburst. "Nahhh… You go on without me. Your dad'll be glad to see you and the stuff you're bringing-- and…" He dropped his voice a bit, giving her a slightly crooked grin. "Let's just say that being taken away in a squadcar from my front door is one of my recurring nightmares, okay? So I'll pass."

She surveyed him somewhat doubtfully. "Well, it won't be a squadcar-- you don't take squadcars to safe houses, you take cars that'll blend in. What are you doing up there, anyway?" Aoko tucked her bag of clothing, books and other Care-And-Feeding-of-Nakamori-Ginzo paraphernalia more securely beneath her arm as she peered up at her friend.

The young thief waved a notebook at her in answer. "Homework" was all he said-- but his free hand quickly mimed a distinctly monocle-like circle over one eye as he flashed her a wink with the other.

The Inspector's daughter shifted uncomfortably, feeling more than a little traitorous… and distinctly uneasy. After her initial shock at Kaito's earlier suggestion Aoko had been somewhat horrified to find herself becoming rather enthused over the entire idea of actually planning a heist. It was, Kaito had said somewhat ironically, just like he had always suspected: thieves and detectives were more often than not separated by nothing more than who signed the arrest warrant. Okay, so Aoko wasn't a cop-- she had the right mindset and it showed.  Staring up at her friend, her thoughts drifted back an hour or two…

* * *

"Right," said Kaito, thumping down an armload of well-used notebooks onto the kitchen table. "First thing you have to understand is the main difference between regular thieves and kaitou-- it's a matter of priorities."

"Priorities?" She sat down, leaning forward on one elbow to read the spine-labels of the notebooks. "'Chemistry'… 'English Language'… 'Biology'?"

Kaito snickered, straddling a chair backwards and resting his chin on his crossed arms. "Well, what do you expect? You want me to write 'Top Secret Heist Plans' instead?" He grinned a Cheshire Cat sort of grin. "Okay now-- priorities. See," and he cocked his head a little to one side, "a regular thief's Rule #1 is 'Don't get caught.' For me, though, it's 'Nobody gets hurt, including Yours Truly.' That makes my job a little more difficult, but hey-- I didn't get into this business because it was easy."

Aoko eyed him like he had just failed a test entitled 'Bright Enough To Come In Out Of the Rain.' "What?" he demanded; she rather pointedly stared at his left shoulder and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know… nobody's perfect, okay?" Hurriedly he went on. "Rule #2 for most thieves is "Get the target'-- but for me it's "See Regular Thief Rule #1."

"'Don't get caught'?"

"Bingo." Kaito beamed at her, wrapping his legs around the rungs of his chair in an improbable position; glancing down at his ankles Aoko wondered absentmindedly if a person could be triple-jointed rather than double-jointed. His voice pulled her attention back as he continued. "Rule #3 for most thieves is "Leave no traces behind"-- no clues, nothing to show who you were. Now for ME that's where things get really screwy; if a kaitou doesn't practically tap-dance on the heads of whoever he's stealing from or whoever's guarding the goods, he's not doing his job." The young thief's eyes twinkled as he pulled out a length of slightly grubby string from apparently nowhere; his thin, clever fingers knotted it into a loop and he began to thread it through all sorts of convolutions as he continued. "Kaitous, y'see, are above all flashy. We're SUPPOSED to be noticed… at least, when we want to be."

The Cat's-Cradle he was making quickly metamorphosed into a Jacob's-Ladder, which climbed itself and turned into a Seesaw and then a Cup-and-Saucer; as the young magician's nimble fingers flicked loops aside and tightened tensions, the simple strands changed shape over and over again. His friend watched, almost hypnotized by the swift movements as the Star altered and became the Butterfly, finally developing into a complicated structure that she dimly remembered being called the Setting Sun; then, with a negligent twist of a hand, the design became a simple loop that disappeared into the nothingness it had appeared from.

In the back of her mind Nakamori Aoko recalled, briefly, that it had been Kaito's father that had taught them both how to make string figures many years past.

Shaking the thought aside, she pushed her heavy tumble of hair back as she opened the notebook marked 'Biology;' Kaito shifted a little restlessly as if he was a little unsure whether or not she should be looking at his notes. "Something wrong?" asked the Inspector's daughter, glancing up.

The young man across from her shook his head. "Nahhh… it's just sort of weird, letting somebody else look at my stuff. I mean, even Jii doesn't go into my notebooks without asking me first." He scratched at his head, looking embarrassed.

On the first page a list of familiar-sounding names stared back at her; it was a detailed compendium of all past and present members of the Kaitou Kid Task force, complete with notes regarding each's physical description, height, weight, speech patterns and other physical characteristics in brief. A rather peculiar photo (peculiar in that it looked to have been taken from the ceiling at an odd angle) was stapled to the page, notes and little arrows written on it here and there.

"This 'Jii'… he's important to you, isn't he? I've met him a couple of times down at that billiards hall you like, but I thought he was just some sort of family friend. Is he related to you?" She read down through the comments, noting with amusement that he had written in a sort of point-system as to which of the Task Force members tended to keep up with Kid the longest during a chase-- and which ones ended up on the bottom of a Dogpile-the-Bandit episode.

Kaito shrugged. "Not related, no… well, as far as I know we're not related." He scratched his head. "He's never said. Jii, now, he's really something. The guy's forgotten more about being a kaitou than most of us ever learn… though he claims I'm pretty good at it. He's the one who really got me started, told me about my oyaji and all, helped me set up contacts and test out equipment and tons of other things. He helped my oyaji out all his life, and I think he worked with my grandfather too-- but Jii's sort of closemouthed about anything before Oyaji's time. Um, don't laugh when he calls me 'Young Master,' okay? I just can NOT get him to stop doing that." He craned his head a bit, peering at the notebook. "Um, Aoko? You might not be too thrilled with the next bit--"

Aoko raised one eyebrow and turned the page; the next one was about her own father, whose photo also graced the bottom portion of the paper. Kaito had thoughtfully supplied him with oni horns and jagged teeth, plus a nail-studded club. At Kaito's slightly embarrassed grunt she glanced up and stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned unrepentantly back, looking somewhat relieved. "Uh… heh heh… Sooo-- on with the lesson!… Rule #3 for me, then, is 'Make yourself conspicuous'."

"What, not 'Get the target'?" Aoko's eye had been caught by a carefully-written list of her father's favorite curses and epithets; she began to go through the lot, her eyes widening.

"No, that's Rule #4. I mean, I want the target, don't get me wrong-- but I can always try for it again later. Not getting anybody hurt, not getting caught AND drawing the bad guys out are the most important things. And Rule #5 is really important: 'Always have a Plan B', just in case. So; got that?"

The Inspector's daughter mentally pigeonholed a particularly pungent phrase into her memory (her dad had been keeping all the good ones for outside home use, apparently.) "I think so. What about choosing your target? How do you do that? Oh--" She remembered something then, and with a certain mental sigh (and a feeling of burning her bridges) she dug a slightly creased bit of plasticized cardboard out of her pocket. "Here's something you might want to add to your photo collection, by the way… Ayumi took it while you were asleep yesterday." Aoko handed the photo over and watched with anticipation for his reaction.

She was not disappointed. Kuroba Kaito, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire, froze where he sat and turned several shades ranging from pasty white to a rather interesting purple at the detailed shot of himself in a somewhat bedraggled Kid outfit, sound asleep with his face showing clearly; the monocle and white hat were quite visible, as was the fluffy white kitten he had cuddled against him.

"--eeeeeeeeghk…"

"Hmm?" Aoko smiled to herself, a strange little tingle of relief at having handed over her last Ace fluttering somewhere around the region of her stomach. "What?"

He sounded rather awestruck. "You know… if Hakuba-kun saw this he'd have to take a cold shower." Kaito swallowed hard, looking a bit ill. "--and come to think of it, so would your father, after he'd had his heart-attack." Closing his eyes he slumped over the back his chair, groaning. "'Yumi-chan... God, what IS it with everybody under four feet tall? Are they all out to get me or what?"

Aoko scowled at her friend, determinedly fighting down an urge to laugh. "You ought to be glad I gave it to you; I *could* have held onto it and not said a word, you know--" She sat back in her chair, bottom lip sticking out just a little and making her look remarkably like the aforementioned Ayumi. "If I had left it on my dad's desk it would've served you right, considering what you've put me through in these last few days," she grumbled.

Kaito looked up at her then, his eyes taking on a slightly unnerving gleam of mischief. "Y'know… you're absolutely right." He considered the picture for a moment more-- and then passed it almost calmly back (his hand barely shook); she took it suspiciously, wondering what the joke was. "Why don't you keep it for me, hm? Think of it as insurance."

She blinked at him, then down at the picture, then back up again. "Insurance?  What for?"

The Phantom Thief laughed at her once more, amusement flashing dark blue from his gaze. "Oh, not for you-- insurance for ME. If I give you something that you know you could put me away with, I know you won't use it. So I'm safe, ne?" He smirked at her outraged look. "I'm right, aren't I? --you KNOW I am. Well?"

Aoko's spluttered reply made Kaito's eyes widen; carefully he reached out and drew the 'Biology' notebook back from beneath her hands, flipping further down through the pages until he came to one that was heavily filled in. Without another word he quickly scribbled something, then closed the notebook and carefully tucked it between his body and the back of the chair, safely out of Aoko's reach.

She scowled at him again threateningly, her temper beginning to smolder despite the odd knot that his trusting her with the photo had put in her throat. "What was THAT all about?"

Kaito shrugged, looking innocent. "You used a new insult-- had to add it to your list. What, you didn't think YOU weren't included in there, did you?"

"GIVE ME THAT!"

"No… no, I don't think so..."

At this point Professor Kuroba's seminar on 'Phantom Thievery 101' had to be temporarily put on hold to allow time out for an impromptu chase around the kitchen table.

* * *

...and now she was staring up at Kaito, knowing that he was working on his next set of heist plans. A lifetime of That's-Against-the-Law was warring with the idea of actually being involved with real, dishonest-to-God theft somewhere in the pit of her stomach; the two did not sit easily with each other, and Aoko wondered uneasily how she was going to deal with it.

Later; I'm going to deal with it later.  Shouldering the strap of her bag, she opened her mouth to say something, she didn't know what--

--but Kaito beat her to it. "Aoko?" The upside-down gaze was oddly earnest, not nearly as flippant as usual; the blue of his eyes seemed a little darker than before. "You… uh, don't really have to help me with my 'homework,' you know?  If it bothers you--"

She smiled wryly. "You can tell?"

"Yeah. You look like you'd rather have dental surgery than talk about… plans." He glanced around to make sure there were no passers-by; it looked odd, since he was still dangling his head backwards off the roof. Then with startling abruptness he suddenly reached to either side, caught the edge, and flipped himself forward and down to land with the lightest of thuds beside her; Aoko stepped back a little, eyes a bit wide.

Aaack--!  Kaito-- he's moving differently now around me; why? He did that without even thinking about it, and before he wouldn't have-- is it because I know he's Kid? It's like he's dropping all sorts of masks, body-masks as well as personality-masks. I wonder how many of them he wears?  The young man had moved so fluidly, so easily; and now he leaned back onto the balcony rail without a second thought. "Look," he said gently, "When you get back, we can talk about it some more, okay? I don't want you doing anything you'll regret later--"

Aoko shook her head, irritated with herself; what was wrong with her?  "No. I said I wanted to be involved and I will be." She crossed her arms, looking rather mulish. "It-- Kaito, it's just…" and she dropped her gaze to her feet, scowling. "I've spent my whole life being on this side of the law," she half-whispered. "It's going to be hard to, to do the opposite, no matter how much I need to. I've never broken the law before, and this is..."

"I know." His voice was soft, oddly ironic, and she looked back up to meet a strange little smile. "I had to go through the same thing when I started out. You don't just knock over all the rules without your conscience twinging more than a bit, do you?"

And then he chuckled at a sudden thought, reaching out and tapping her nose lightly with a forefinger. "Hey, cheer up-- if it's any help, just think of it this way: when this is all over, you're gonna be the one who caught me. I mean, yeah, you'll tell your tousan and all that, but--"

Nakamori Aoko's eyes were troubled. "I'm not sure that's much of a help." She fiddled with the strap from her bag, twisting it and retwisting it between her fingers.

Kaito shrugged, leaning back with both elbows resting on the railing; "Heh; well, we all have our little burdens to bear. Trust me, I'm not too thrilled with the idea of just meekly handing myself over to him either, Aoko... Right now if you asked him what he wanted to do with me, he'd just have to pick whether he'd prefer to have me stuffed and mounted inside a case in his office or just served on a platter with an apple in my mouth." He snorted. "I wonder which wine you'd drink with Roast Kaitou? Red or white?"

Aoko's eyebrows went up; she started to make a rude reply when a discrete *beeeeep!* sounded behind her, making the young woman jump slightly and turn. A battered, nondescript car that fairly shrieked 'OFFICIAL UNDERCOVER VEHICLE' to her eyes was waiting at the curb, and inside she could see Obunaki-keiji (who she had known practically from infancy) waving.  She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Kaito--

--or, rather, at where Kaito had been. "See you later, Aoko," came from the rooftop as he settled himself almost soundlessly on the edge, legs dangling; how had he gotten up there so fast? "Don't let your dad run you too ragged, okay?" He smiled down at her, a quirky little grin that had as much irony in it as humor. "And don't worry so much, will you, baka?  We'll work things out later."

Later.  She was back to later again.  Well, that wasn't too bad; maybe a little breathing-space would make the war inside her stomach settle into a truce, or at least a cease-fire. Ignoring the 'baka' comment Aoko nodded, hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder and turning towards the outside stairs. As she clattered down them and hurried off across the lawn, though, she could feel the touch of his gaze lingering on her skin like a caress, sympathetic and almost gentle.

Somehow, even if it didn't solve the conflicts in her heart, it made them just a little easier to bear.

* * *

And now it was later, dark outside with the evening crickets sending out their song to shrill in the cooling air. Autumn was really showing its strength now-- the day had been warm, almost hot for October, but the nights were beginning to grow chillier as the season got a better grip.

As her escort watched from his rather dilapidated vehicle just past the gate, Aoko fumbled with her borrowed key. Inside the house the lights were on, shining warm and inviting through the windows, and she could hear the distant blare of canned laughter coming from the television in the family room.  Glancing past her shoulder, she waved Obunaki-keiji a quick goodbye and slipped in through the door.

Inside, welcoming scents wafted through the air; she sniffed appreciatively, dropping her now-empty cloth bag on a chair. Dinner?  I hope Kaito kept it simple and didn't get creative… The young magician was a fairly good cook, but every now and then he liked to get a bit experimental; as long as she lived, Aoko didn't think she would EVER forget the taste of Chocolate Miso Soup with a side-dish of Strawberry Tempura (he had gone with a dessert theme that time.)  She shuddered at the memory; it hadn't exactly been BAD as such, just… unusual. Terribly, dreadfully, tragically unusual.

Well, that was Kaito for you. Unusual…

The Inspector's daughter poked her head around the kitchen corner inquisitively; "Tadaima," she called out. Kaito was nowhere to be seen, but something aromatic was steaming in a wire basket in a pot and she could smell the sweet scents of hoisin sauce and red chili oil.  "Kaito? Where are you?"  She wandered in, picking up the lid to the pot and peering in; Mmmmmm… looks like pork buns and some dim-sum; bet his mom made them and froze a batch before she left.  Bowls of dipping-sauces sat on the counter beside the stove, explaining some of the scents; but where was Kaito?

"Mewww?" A small, fluffy ball of white fuzz wound around her ankles, nearly tripping her as wide blue eyes blinked up innocently from floor-level. Aoko scooped Spot up, hugging the kitten to her with a murmur of affection. "Did you think I had forgotten you?"  She stroked the round head, scratching the pink shell-like ears until the feline purred like a pet thunderstorm. "Where've you been all day, anyway?  Not tormenting Kaito's doves, I hope…"  Spot yawned, his tongue curling into the shape of a ladle between sharp, sharp teeth; he batted playfully at a strand of her hair as if to say 'What, me?  Hunt doves? Perish the thought-- I'm just a cute little kittycat, wouldn't hurt a fly...'  Not for the first time, Aoko found herself thinking that it might be a stupid idea to believe that you knew EVERYTHING going on inside the heads of nocturnal blue-eyed creatures in white.

She shook the thought off; where the hell was Kaito, anyway?

A noise caught her attention; speaking of doves...  Cooing and random fluttering sounds drew her through the house towards the back door; it stood half open, and through it the Inspector's daughter could see one jeans-clad leg and a dirty sock, complete with an assortment of perching doves on knee and toes. She peeked around the doorway-- "Kaito?" --and began to laugh.

He looked up at her indignantly, dislodging a cooing passenger with a flutter of wings. "Hey, they MISSED me, okay?" said the young magician rather huffily, attempting to look dignified. "What's wrong with that?" Every available portion of his body seemed to be occupied by a pair of pink bird-feet, supporting (of course) a plump, feathered body in every shade from purest white to tan or even soft gray. The kitten in Aoko's arms made an excited involuntary movement; not wanting to be a party to wholesale avicide she held on a little tighter as she tried to control her snickers.

"You were only gone for a day," she pointed out, adjusting her grip on Spot; the kitten's eyes were fixed on the white, feathery buffet in front of him and he seemed to be remarkably slippery all of a sudden. "How much can doves miss a person?  They're just-- NO!! SPOT, don't you DARE!!!"

The kitten had managed to squirm loose; with a single bound, he propelled himself from her arms into a furry claw-tipped projectile aimed straight at Kaito's flock--

"AAGH!!!"

--which exploded just short of feline impact into a shrieking, squawking cacophony of wings, panicky shapes and wind. Feathers flew everywhere; as she blindly charged down the stairs after her cat (he let out a disappointed "waaaooOWWW!!" when scooped from the fray), for a confused second or so Aoko's vision held nothing but wings.

Then it cleared; she blinked and looked wildly around, hanging on grimly to the struggling, complaining kitten. Birds still fluttered and dove about the coop like terrified little hang-gliders; she ducked and swore as one screeched past her head... but again, where the HELL was Kaito? Nowhere in sight; it was almost as if he had just dissolved into a cloud of doves...

And then she felt the lightest touch on the back of her neck and spun around with a gasp.

Kuroba Kaito was leaning against the doorjamb just behind her, arms crossed and with a little grin on his face as he took in her astonishment. "Ready for dinner?" he asked calmly, reaching across and pulling a stray feather from her hair. He passed it to Spot, who took it with a determined snap! of teeth.

"Just so long as it's not chicken," she answered a bit shakily, bemused. Magicians... Spot glared at him from her arms as she followed him back into the house.

*

A little later, Aoko was nibbling at the last of the dim-sum; she sighed with slightly overstuffed contentment.  "Oof. I think I ate too much." From the floor her kitten watched narrowly, the rather mangled dove-feather still resting between his paws.

Across from her Kaito yawned; "Shouldn't have had all that fast-food with your dad, then. You said he's doing okay?" Amused blue eyes regarded her lazily as he tilted his chair back, balancing it on two legs without effort.

The Inspector's daughter nodded, making a face. "Bored to tears-- and I think he tried to sneak out this afternoon; one of the two officers that were with him had his face all scuffed up and kept giving my dad these dirty looks when he thought nobody was looking." Aoko snorted, annoyed. "Doesn't he understand that he has to stay there for his own good?  I mean, what if somebody tries to shoot him when he goes in to work in the morning, or when he leaves?"

Kaito sighed, taking a long swallow of his drink. "Yeah, well… if I had to be stuck in a hotel room with, say, Hakuba-kun and Bunagi-kun for a few days I'd lose it too." Bunagi-kun was one of their less-liked classmates, a student with the annoying habit of tagging on a giggle to the end of every nervous sentence (of where there were far, far too many; Bunagi-kun was a babbler.) "And as for him staying safe… it's a good idea, but it's not foolproof; he's got to come out sooner or later, and those guys are patient."  He shifted his balance, steadying the chair minutely. "Your dad's pretty smart, though-- not smart enough to catch me, of course, but…" (he chuckled at Aoko's half-hearted glare) "… pretty smart all the same. When he leaves that safe house I don't think he's just gonna let himself be picked off like a nice, meek little target; he'll think of something."

Aoko watched him curiously; she took a sip from her own drink, swirling the ice-cubes around. "You like him, don't you? I mean, even now, after… being Kid all this time?"

The young thief nodded. "He usually gives me a good chase; that's really something, y'know-- I'm not exactly the world's easiest person to keep up with. Hakuba-kun, now, he's come closer to snagging me those few times he was allowed to a heist, but he's not nearly as much fun to play with. And as for Kudo… well, never mind about Kudo; he's got his own little problems."  Kaito shot her a sideways glance full of both mischief, apology, and more than a little guilt. "I know I make your dad's blood-pressure shoot through the roof, but what else am I s'posed to do?  Let him catch me?  You already know why I do what I do... and someday he'll understand too. Not," he added wryly, "that I think understanding'll keep him from doing his best to strangle me when he finds out, but so it goes."

"Mmph." The young woman drank the last of her soda, wondering how to approach what was on her mind. Her eyes fell on a familiar-looking stack of notebooks sitting on the sofa in the next room-she could just see them through the doorway. "Kaito? Did you… I mean, have you, um, thought of anything? You said earlier that you were working on…"

He grimaced. "…'plans', right.  Hate to tell you this, but it's not that easy.  Nobody has an online site you can go to marked 'Really Stealable Gems of Japan' or anything like that; I mean, I DO have a few resources most people don't have access to, but… and maybe we should just talk about something else for a while, huh?" Kaito gave her his most charming grin, only the slightest bit faded around the edges. "Sooo, ready to go back to school tomorrow?"

At that Nakamori Aoko sat her glass down, ice-cubes rattling, and leaned forward across the table to stare her friend hard in the face with her most stubborn glare. "Kaito... I am not backing down from this.  I said I'd deal with it… and I will. So QUIT it; you're not making it any better, okay?  Just quit it!  Please."

He looked away; his control on the chair he sat in wobbled just a little, and he allowed it to tilt back onto all four legs with a heavy click. "If you hadn't found out, you wouldn't be in this mess with me," the young thief said softly to the silence that settled over the room.

Aoko shook her head. "And if I hadn't found out, you'd either be in jail by now or maybe half-dead with infected gunshot wounds. IN Ayumi-chan's closet, I might add. And Tousan'd probably-- he'd, he would be dead.” He winced at that. "I'm not going to try and second-guess fate, Kaito; we make our choices and then… things happen."  The Inspector's daughter sighed, rubbing at her forehead with one hand; thinking about it made her head ache.  "If I hadn't been waiting for my dad in front of the Clock Tower all those years ago, I never would have met you, or not that soon anyway; but if you hadn't met me..."  The lump that had formed in her throat was making talking awfully hard. "… if you hadn't met me… my life would be a lot duller than it is, okay?  And I don't like dull-- you must be rubbing off onto me or something.  So please stop trying to distract me and let's just... get started?"

Kaito was uncharacteristically silent for a few seconds; it was beginning to unnerve Aoko when he got like that, it was so unlike him. When he spoke again, his voice was just barely audible. "Aoko… dammit, I don't like dragging you with me... especially if where I'm going is down, you know?" Ice clinked in his empty glass as he placed it onto the table.

Restlessly Aoko got up from her chair, carrying her dishes towards the sink; the quiet in the kitchen was suddenly much too loud. Pausing behind her friend's back she said very softly, warningly: "Listen, please-- just listen, okay, Kaito?  My dad's life is at stake here too… and you'd be surprised just how far down I'd go to make sure that he's safe.  I won't say I'll always enjoy this, or I'll always agree with you, but I will do what I said I'd do; and if that includes following you places I wouldn't have gone before this, well, then I'll just have to learn how to manage."  Her voice gentled just a bit.  "So stop trying to protect me."

THAT made him look up swiftly, an odd expression on his face; he shook his head a little dubiously. "Aoko..."  Then he paused, frowning and apparently thinking hard if the expression on his face was any indication.  At last he glanced back up at her where she stood by the sink. "Alright. All right. But..."

"… but…?" Her eyebrows rose and her knuckles tightened dangerously on the edge of her plate.

Kaito mock-ducked, a small smile coming back to his face. "… but not right now. I've got a little chore to take care of-- and some reading material for you, if you're really sure about this--?  Right, right." He stood, scooping up his own dishes and passing them over. "I was going to sort of hold off on the rest of the notebooks, but... go ahead and read them. There's stuff in there you'll need to know-- the kinds of tools I use, how I travel, contacts, research I've done in the past, that kind of thing. If you're really gonna work with me on this, you need to be informed." At her rather sour grimace, he chuckled. "'Homework,' like I said, and on the fast track. EXCEPT for the 'Biology' notebook, which is not in that stack anymore."

She stuck her tongue out at him; Kaito merely raised an amused eyebrow as stepped up beside her, placing his dishes into the sink and turning on the water. "I'll be out for a little while-- I shouldn't be too late."

The Inspector's daughter eyed him curiously; some of the tension left her shoulders as she reached for a dishcloth (it was her turn to do the dishes.) "Out? Is this-- you said something about 'visiting Kudo' earlier… Kudo?  Kudo Shinichi? I remember that name from somewhere. Some sort of detective, isn't he? And why are you making that horrible face?"

Kaito leaned back against the counter, elbows resting on the sink's edge; he let out a theatrical sigh. "'Some sort of a detective,' yeah… you could say that," he muttered, wincing slightly. He hesitated, obviously stalling; a warning throat-clearing from Aoko informed him that he had better elaborate on that little comment but quick.. "Let's just say that he's not exactly what you'd call one of Kid's more ordinary opponents. If he was free to really chase after me… I might actually be in trouble. Maybe."

"'Maybe?'" She regarded him dubiously.

Shrug, shrug; the teenager tucked his thumbs into his pockets, head down and slouching a little. "Okay, 'probably.' Er… definitely, to be really truthful.  The guy's more stubborn than your dad, persistent as a wasp, unbelievably intelligent, carries grudges like you wouldn't believe-- It's just my good luck that he always preferred to go after murderers instead of thieves." He scowled for a second before a small grin found its way back onto his face, his mercurial spirits lifting at the thought of mischief. "The last time I saw him he made me sweat a bit; now it's my turn."  He chuckled.

Eyeing him a little askance, Aoko began filling the sink with hot water; steam whisped slowly up, wreathing in the cooler air like delicate shreds of ghosts as she dunked a plate and reached towards the shelf below the quietly-ticking wall-meter for a scrubbing pad.  Watching, Kaito blinked. "Hey, be careful of the pipes back there, they--"

"OW!"  Aoko jerked her hand back with a yelp, tears rising in her eyes.

"--get really hot-- crap!  I keep telling Kaasan we need to get that fixed!" At her exclamation he caught her hand in both of his, examining the long blister that was already rising on the outside of her thumb where it had brushed against the meter's hot-water pipe. "Shit, Aoko, I'm sorry…"  Already he was reaching to turn the tap to cold so that she could soak it and relieve the pain of her burn. "Here, put your hand under the faucet; I'll get some stuff from the first-aid kit--"

"Wait… wait. Kaito? Look." Aoko was staring at her own hand, eyes wide and rather shocked… as the reddened blister seemed to flatten and absorb itself back into the skin; before their eyes the redness faded away until there was nothing left of the burn except their astonished faces and a memory of pain.

The whole thing, from the moment of injury to the point in which every trace had vanished, had taken no more than perhaps four seconds. It took considerably longer for Aoko to find her voice. "K-kaito... it happened again.  I thought maybe it was, was just a one-time thing--"  She ran a slightly shaky fingertip across the unmarred skin where the burn had been. "It's still hot," she whispered. "It's still hot from the pipe… but it doesn't hurt at all."

Her fingers were still cradled in his; almost unconsciously he followed suit, tracing the clear, scarless surface with his own touch. "Don't look at me… I've been successfully avoiding thinking about the whole freaky healing thing all day," he informed her brightly, his voice only a little unsteady. "Works just great so far!"

Aoko's shocked look turned into something of a glare, but it softened as she looked back at their linked hands; "Me too," she admitted. It had been so much easier to focus on anything else, everything else; this was just too weird.  And considering some of the 'something elses' that she'd had to focus on, that was saying something.

Her friend's fingers tightened around hers for a second as if to protect them; and then he let her go, stepping back just a bit. "Hang on a sec; I've got to know if--" Kaito rummaged around in one pocket, pulling out a deck of cards; they looked ordinary enough, but Aoko noticed just the faintest gleam along the deck's sides.

Those cards-- they're the ones from his card-gun, the ones with the sharp edges, aren't they?  What's he going to do with that-- OH.

With great care, he flicked the corner of the top card (the Jack of hearts, she noted absently) against the back of his left hand; a thin red line showed immediately as the razor-keen metal sliced through Kaito's skin, allowing a single red drop to bead up, hesitate, and roll slowly down to be absorbed by the edge of his sweatshirt.  Mutely he held it under the still-running tap; the faint trickle of blood washed away instantly… to reveal nothing; no wound at all, not a scratch or a scar.

"Well." Kaito let out a breath that held as much relief as nervousness in it. "Guess now we know-- it wasn't just a one-time thing." He turned off the tap, shaking his head as he carefully returned the deck of cards to his pocket. "I… guess, if you had to pick up something funny from a legendary mystical gem you could do a helluva lot worse than end up with speedy healing abilities. Heh; 'weirdness germs.' Wonder if neither of us'll catch cold in the winter from now on?"  The thief wiped his damp hand against his sweatshirt. "It doesn't even sting now..."

There was a trace of wonder in the words, wonder and the tiniest thread of fear, thin as a playing-card's edge.

Aoko blinked at the comment regarding colds, vague curiosities regarding certain female monthly annoyances passing through her mind. It'd be awfully nice not to have cramps any more ever again.  Or headaches. Bemusedly she tried to gather her scattered thoughts. "Uhhhh…. back to the subject. You're going to go talk to this 'Kudo?' Should I come along? I can always read this stuff," and she indicated the notebooks, "when we get back--"

Still looking down at his hand, Kaito shook his head firmly. "Not this time. Trust me, Aoko, I don't think you'd be too comfortable coming along with me, not… just yet."

Annoyed (and still a little unsettled; watching yourself heal up like something out of a science-fiction movie was enough to rock anybody's sensibilities), Aoko went back to scrubbing at the dinner dishes with perhaps more force than necessary. "Why not? If you're just going to knock on his door--"

Kaito shrugged a little, hitching a small backpack that had been lying beside his chair up onto one shoulder. "Because I'm not going to knock on his door, basically; and well, because…" and he slid one hand deftly in under the backpack's flap, tugging something out into the kitchen's light; "… because I'm not exactly going as me, y'see. --Or, okay, I am, but a different me." A fold of silky, ghostly-white fabric peeped out, as pale and glimmering as a certain Phantom Thief's cloak.

The Inspector's daughter's eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh." She tried to keep the disapproval out of her voice; it warred with curiosity, the latter beating the former by a good margin as she reached tentatively out to smooth a pinch of the fabric between her damp fingers. "So you're going to--"

"Yeah.  It's sort of necessary in this case."

Aoko's fingertips lingered on the soft folds, letting go only reluctantly. "Why?  Can't you just call him on the phone or something?  I mean, do you have to go and put on that stupid outfit and put yourself at risk-- just to talk to somebody?" She glowered at him, worry flickering behind the disapproval. "And where'd THIS come from, anyway?  I threw away the torn one--"

Kaito looked more than a little uncomfortable; he tried to cover it with nonchalance. "Yeah, well, you know us Phantom Thieves-- 'Be Prepared' and all that; I've got spares… And it is NOT a stupid outfit; it has style." He ignored her snort, continuing on as one corner of his mouth quirked back up into his characteristic grin. "As for Kudo... like I said, I've got a bone or two to pick with him; a phone call just wouldn't make the kind of impact I need to make tonight. The little brat needs to be shaken up a bit, and I prefer the hands-on approach to the long-distance version." He secured the flap of the backpack again, hefting it into place as he headed towards the door.

"'Little brat?' I thought he was about our age--"

He snickered. "Depends on how you look at him; depends on WHO'S looking at him, too." At her confused scowl Kaito shook his head, still grinning but refusing to elaborate.

Aoko followed him a little wistfully, wiping her hands on a dishrag. "Will you be very late?"

"Nahh…" He toed on his shoes beside the front door, settling the backpack more securely on; something inside clanked softly. "By the time I get there it'll be way past his bedtime." At her inquisitive look he chuckled again at some private joke. "I'll explain later, okay? And don't worry." Kaito opened the front door, glancing out at the quiet night beyond. "It's just a little visit, not a heist or anything like that. What could go wrong?"

And with that he gave her one last wave and slipped out the door, closing it behind him. For a long minute Aoko stared at the closed door as if looking for oracles in the wood or answers from the doorknob. "'What could go wrong?'" she asked herself, grumbling softly (with just the smallest hint of fear beneath the grumbles); "That's what I'm afraid you'll find out."

Be careful, Kaito. Please.

Then the Inspector's daughter turned away to immerse herself in the Phantom Thief's notebooks and wait for his return.

* * *

Outside the wind was picking up just a little as Kuroba Kaito swung down the sidewalk, whistling quietly to himself. His steps were hurried, moving lightly across the cement and asphalt of the streets as he headed for a bus-stop a block or so away. If he had been less intent on his goal he might have paid more attention to the thin-faced man who emerged out of an alleyway and approached the bus-stop at about the same time.

The two glanced at one another in the way that strangers waiting for a bus will, scarcely a flicker of a look just barely long enough to be polite yet not in any way invasive; Kaito's mind was on his 'appointment,' and as for the other prospective passenger--

--he had his own concerns as well. The thin-faced man pulled his black trenchcoat a little tighter around him against the wind, smiling slightly in an inward sort of fashion. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Mmph?" Kaito blinked at him. "Uh, yeah. Guess it is."

"Got a light?" The man had pulled out a pack of cigarettes; at the younger man's headshake he shrugged, sliding them back into his pockets and leaving his hands there. Neither said anything much after that, but the thin-faced man continued to smile to himself as if enjoying a private joke.

After a few minutes the bus arrived; Kaito hopped up the steps, then glanced behind him at the thin-faced man in the trenchcoat; he remained on the sidewalk, still smiling. "Er-- weren't you waiting for the bus?"

The man's smile widened just a bit. "Ah, no. Actually I'm waiting for a… friend. But thanks." He gave a shrug, hands still in his coat-pockets; the right one seemed to be fingering something.

"Okay, whatever. 'Night."

"Yeah," said the other man softly; "Goodnight." The bus pulled away in a cloud of fumes and a rumble. The thin-faced man relaxed his grip on the gun in his right pocket, then chuckled briefly to himself; his eyes reflected the tail-lights of the bus briefly, an eerie catlike flash of luminescence. "Goodnight, Kuroba-san. See you later."

The wind blew his words down the road, mingling them with the bus-exhaust and thinning them out until they were lost in the darkness.

Chapter Text

I walk the maze of moments and everywhere I turn to
Begins a new beginning but never finds a finish.
I walk to the horizon, and there I find another;
It all seems so surprising, but then I find that I know:
You go there (you're gone forever)
I go there (I'll lose my way)
If we stay here we're not together--
Anywhere is…

(Enya, from 'The Memory of Trees' album)

Sleep is a sea.

We float on the surface like seabirds resting on the waves, balanced against the surface-tension of water so deep that not a one of us knows what really lies beneath. Do we want to know? It's a pretty sure bet that most of us don't; human minds have this little tendency to get a touch uneasy about what lurks in the dark, and there's nothing so dark as deep water.

So we paddle around on the surface, flying clear when we can and drifting when we can't; and occasionally we look down as we pass above the shallows and can see to the bottom, and we then proudly announce that we understand what happens when a person sleeps, we understand what lies in the depths. But we haven't a clue, not really; we're just guessing to make ourselves feel a little more secure against the blackness we know lies just beneath us.

Sleep is a sea. But it has shoals, and currents, and islands...

* * *

The black sky overhead was spangled with stars; not long before, it would have been as blank and ungiving as a bottomless well, arching overhead in a gaze-swallowing expanse that made the eyes ache and turn away. But now it held glittering, silvery pinpoints of light; and if the constellations didn't quite seem to match up with the ones that a person could see when they stepped outside or took a look through their window, well… it wasn't such a big deal, not really.

This WAS a dream, after all.

"---YEEEEEEK!! LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOOW!!! Whoops--"