Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He senses a disturbance in the air behind him. There’s also a sense of foreboding as if something were about to happen; it’s this feeling that keeps him from turning around. If this Kaitō Kid has just landed on the roof behind him, he’ll know soon enough regardless of whether he turns around.

“Thanks,” he says, quietly, to Agasa. “I’ll call you back later.”

With that, Conan pockets his phone. He takes one deep breath to steel himself; he isn’t quite sure what it is that he’s preparing himself for, but he doesn’t get much time to think on this when the silence is broken and he freezes in response.

“Yo, kid,” lilts a voice—an achingly familiar voice, one that he listened to via voicemail for far longer than he would like to admit after things went awry. He’s committed that voice to memory, so there is almost no mistaking it. “What are you doing at a place like this?”

It can’t be—can it? Is it… is this Kaito? Something keeps his feet planted firmly in place, afraid to turn around and be faced with a truth he won’t know how to handle. A million thoughts rush through his head—is it really him? Is this why he broke up with him? Why is he doing this? What happened? How long has this been going on?

“You must be pretty smart if you’ve figured out my riddle,” says the voice, sounding amused and impressed. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? Why else would you be up on this rooftop at this hour? You’re like a little detective!”

“Maybe,” he replies, dumbly, still unable to turn around.

“You can turn around, chibi tantei. I don’t bite~” The voice sounds far too amused. The singsong quality in that last word is much too reminiscent of Kaito’s for his comfort. “Alas, it seems I still managed to fool you, didn’t I? I thought I made it pretty clear at the top of my note. April Fool. A joke!”

Yeah, right, this is a joke. And an unnecessarily cruel one at that. Why else would the thief sound just like Kaito? Kaito isn’t a criminal—right? The Kaito he knows—knew—whatever!

“Tell you what, because you’re just a little guy, I’ll leave you a token of goodwill. Pass this along to the good inspector, won’t you?”

There’s a flash so bright that Conan has to shield his eyes despite being turned away from the source. When the light dies down and he’s able to see again, he turns around to find a rooftop devoid of life and a single rose on the ground, a paper fluttering around on a ribbon tied tight around it. The rose is painfully reminiscent of Kaito. Slowly, he steps towards it, partly afraid that it might disappear and partly afraid just because. When he picks it up, the paper contains another notice, this time dated for April 19th on the Queens Elizabeth.

He holds the rose close, sniffing its snow white petals.

Conan finds himself in the Detective Agency later that night. He’d sat through Ran’s lecture about going out at this late hour and sent him off to bed. Little did she know, he laid there restlessly until an hour had passed and he deemed it safe to sneak downstairs to utilize the computer. From there, Conan went down a rabbit hole of articles and blog posts about the infamous Kaitō Kid.

The pictures are all mediocre at best, grainy close-ups that were far too pixelated and far away silhouettes. He would need to look the thief in the face in-person before he can say with full confidence that the man under the hat truly is Kaito.

“Why do people like him so much?” Conan murmurs, skimming through a fangirl’s blog post debating whether the shade of blue of Kaitō Kid’s button-up was azure or cobalt and why would anyone care about that?

Going off of all the information he has gathered, Conan thinks that he’s pieced one thing together: Kaito’s father was the original Kaitō Kid. At this revelation, he can’t help but chuckle at the other’s late father’s sense of humor. It begs the question, however, of why Kaito’s father originally became the Phantom Thief and why Kaito saw fit to continue on. As he switches over to another blog that apparently lists every single known Kaitō Kid heist, Conan feels another piece of the puzzle slide into place.

Dated not too long before the break up is a heist dubbed The Clocktower Heist.

Shinichi recognizes the details very clearly, having heard about the true nature of the incident afterwards—the threat of losing the Clocktower, the stolen diamonds, the fake clock face, and…

His mouth goes dry as he recalls being the one in the helicopter, stealing Megure’s gun, and aiming it at the tower.

He had only meant to use the bullets as a means of removing the fake clock face. At the time, it was supposed to be a fun helicopter ride until all police units were asked to report—he had even asked Kaito if he’d wanted to come along, initially, but was met with a resounding no on the basis that Kaito was helping out a classmate with a project. He hadn’t even known what was going on or who was trying to steal the clock’s hands.

“Did he think I was shooting at him?” he whispers. He shakes his head. Kaito’s smarter than that; it should have been obvious that he was aiming at the corners to reveal that the missing hands were actually still firmly in their place, hidden behind a hyper-realistic tapestry made to look as though the clock face were empty. With his almost perfect shot, he had set the tapestry loose, breaking the illusion. Shinichi hadn’t even thought to bring this up to Kaito at the time.

Or, perhaps, did Kaito think Shinichi was getting too close to Kaitō Kid for his comfort?

Chapter Text

Conan doesn’t know what brings him to Ekoda High, but he assumes it’s the overwhelming need to see Kaito. But he hadn’t done this even when Kaito had broken up with him over the phone. He had left the other alone.

He’d faked being sick and even brought himself to fake tears over how he simply can’t go to school today. Ran had fretted over him, but an important study group session after school had forced her to attend classes. Kogorō had promised to look after him, but the minute Ran left the old man simply grumbled and said to be back before Ran gets home if he was faking it. Conan wondered then if his acting was a little over the top, but that certainly made things easier. 

Kogorō had even said he’d told Ran to stop by the grocery for the ingredients to her favorite sick foods once the study session ended. This would surely buy Conan enough time to make it back before she could find out he was faking. He loathes to face her ire if she decided he was already on a path to delinquency at this age.

But even still he left, skateboard in hand, and straight out the front door with no trouble. He did, however, stop to change the water in the vase for that rose that Kaitō Kid had left behind. It’s been a week and somehow the petals are still pristine as they were on April 1st.

The ride to Ekoda is uneventful—no dead bodies, but he did make a brief stop to help a woman find her missing wallet; it had fallen out of her coat pocket three blocks earlier. He had made sure to wear a cap and even wore a bulky jacket to somewhat disguise himself if Kaito were to see him—assuming that Kaito is Kaitō, of course.

So here he stands, a distance away from the high school. He knew Kaito’s school got out a little before Teitan did, which he found strange, but it did work out in his favor. Now, it was a matter of finding Kaito in the crowd of students filtering out. He hopes that Kaito doesn’t have an after-school commitment of his own.

“How interesting,” someone says from behind him. Whoever this person is, their voice is feminine yet silky and rich; it piques his interest, but he can’t quite find reason in why that is. “Shouldn’t you be in school, boya?”

When he turns, he finds a teenager around his true age looking down at him, with a smug smile spread across her lips. Her hair is dark, bangs perfectly resting across her forehead, and her eyes piercing in their gaze. He marvels slightly at her features, perfectly angular and sharp in a way that demands attention; his own mother would be envious of those cheekbones and perfectly-sloped nose. There’s something about her that sets him on edge. His attention then falls to her uniform—the Ekoda High female uniform, if he’s correct; he’d seen Aoko in that same outfit many times.

“Hi, nēchan! I’m just waiting for my big brother—Kāsan let me stay home so I could surprise him,” he lies, much more easily than he’d expected. His eyes dart back to the gate where the students are still filtering out. He wonders when she had appeared behind him. “But I don’t see him, so I think I’ll just go!”

She tilts her head—perhaps it’s meant to be cute in a puppy-like manner, but he can sense that the movement was calculated and intentional. “Oh? Perhaps you could let me know his name—you see, I’ve a lot of admirers. He could be one of them.” There’s a look in her eyes as she coyly adds, “Or my classmate, perhaps?”

Something tells him not to offer that tidbit of information—not even a first name. He isn’t sure if it’s that sinister, all-knowing twinkle in her eye or the way she exudes an unnatural air. Besides, he can’t risk letting Kaito know someone claiming to be his little brother was looking for him.

Hopefully, he thinks, she isn’t actually a classmate of Kaito’s.

Then, surprisingly, she laughs, standing straight and giggling into her fingers. “I’m teasing, boya. Keep your secrets. I’m sure your big brother is eager to get home, so why don’t you run along and go find him?”

Conan only nods, slightly dumbfounded by her attitude, and looks away for no more than two seconds to survey the students once more—there! When he turns back, the young lady is gone with only the scent of jasmine left behind in her wake. He thinks he hears her titters somewhere nearby, but doesn’t bother to seek her out. Instead, he focuses all of his attention on the messy-haired brunet walking out, one hand texting away on his phone and the other with his school bag over his shoulder.

Kaito’s face is impassive. Besides him, Aoko is chattering away, looking somewhat incensed as she gestures frantically with her free hand and swings her school bag in the other.

Conan’s throat goes dry. He grips his skateboard tighter.

If Kaito really is Kaitō, how does he manage to balance it all—school, friends, the night life?

Clearly sacrifices had to be made, he thinks bitterly. Some part of him prays that he was mistaken, but even days later he can still hear Kaito’s voice speaking to him as if he were a stranger. His memory is sharp. There’s hardly any denying it, but the irrational part doesn’t wish to believe until he sees for himself that that thief is his Kaito.

He only watches for a few seconds more, slowly losing Kaito as the pair get lost in a sudden influx of students. Once he’s completely lost sight of the other, he lets his skateboard fall to the ground and steps on. The skateboard whirs to life and he’s off, silently pondering these last few minutes.

Chapter Text

Conan had managed to make it back to the detective agency before Ran returned from her grocery run that day. As he begrudgingly holds on to Ran’s hand, he remembers his too-small shoes slapping against the pavement and then up the stairs. His heart had been beating out of his chest as if he’d just fled a crime scene. But perhaps he kind of did. And then he’d changed quickly into his pajamas, trusting the old man to keep his mouth shut about Conan not actually being sick and sneaking out. That day, after seeing Kaito for the first time in months, his composure was… hardly there.

That mysteriously beautiful Ekoda student still lingers in his head even now—her words especially. But seeing him—seeing Kaito—had done something to him. He felt attacked with an onslaught of emotions—sadness and anger and happiness and relief. After all these days and nights of ruminating on phantom thieves and stupid magicians, he got to see just Kaito.

And now, days—weeks, even—later, he stands upon the deck of Queen Elizabeth with a sense of unease settling in his chest.

“Stay close to me tonight, okay?” warns Ran with her iron-clad grip on his hand. Her voice is jovial but her gaze is hard. “These kinds of events always attract the worst sort of people.”

Kogorō grumbles. He eyes the crowd like each elegantly-dressed guest had personally offended him. 

Then a shrill voice cuts through, crying out Ran’s name. “Ran, oh, Ran! You look stunning—not as stunning as me, obviously—but maybe tonight’s the night that we find you a rich husband!”

As if conjured from thin air, Sonoko appears with her perfect hair and dress. 

The two girls dissolve into their excited chatter. Ran lets go of Conan at this point. He barely manages to catch Kogorō’s mumbles about showboats and spoiled brats before his attention drifts away. It’s a lavish ship, he realizes. And there’s at least a hundred guests on board. 

How is Conan supposed to discern which one is Kaitō Kid?

But… if Kaitō is Kaito, then it should be pretty easy. And if this thief is his Kaito, then maybe… just maybe… he’ll slip up. Shinichi had memorized all of Kaito’s quirks—all those little tells of his. Maybe he can still find them.

“All right, you got me.”

The voice is smooth, teasing—but wrong. It’s too low, too pompous. It slips past Ran’s lips, wearing her face, but it’s not her. He knows it—knows this voice. Conan freezes. His pulse stutters. Even though he’d been half-expecting it, it’s still odd to hear.

“Where is Ran-nēchan?” he demands, eyes narrowing.

Kaitō Kid tilts his head, looking curious and amused. The expression on Ran’s face is unsettling because Kaitō Kid is doing it wrong. “Nēchan?” echoes the thief, before chuckling as he peels away the disguise. Suddenly before him stands the infamous white-clad thief. “My apologies. I didn’t see the resemblance, chibi tantei.”

Conan takes a deep breath. If this is Kaito, then he should know that Ran has no little brothers. But perhaps that’s the whole point—to pretend that he doesn’t know Ran.

To test this, he puts on a smile that feels too sharp. “Kudō Shinichi,” he says, his voice so deliberately slow, as he watches.

There.

The tiniest bit of tension in his shoulders. A minute widening of stance, just barely noticeable but still there.

“Do tell,” says Kaitō Kid, after a beat of silence too long to be considered casual. “Why are you bringing up such a famous detective? Is he here?”

“No.”

Conan lets the response hang in the air between them. He observes a slight droop to Kaitō—disappointment, maybe? His heart warms at the idea, but he quells it down. This isn’t the time. His reply was a lie, but Kaitō doesn’t need to—shouldn’t—be told otherwise.

“But Shinichi-niichan taught me everything I know. And Shinichi-niichan once said that most talented artists only become famous after death.”

He takes a step forward. To his amusement, Kaitō takes one back.

“Maybe,” Conan murmurs, “if I send you to the cemetery called prison, you’ll become great too.”

Conan feels as their eyes lock. Even behind the monocle, he recognizes that face. There’s deep emotion swimming in Kaito’s blue eyes. And yet…

Not an ounce of recognition.

But he supposes that’s for the best. It seems that Kaito is caught up in his own issues. Kaito broke up with him anyway. Kaito doesn’t deserve to be weighed down with Conan’s own secrets, too.

The magician’s grin hasn’t wavered even in the face of confusion. The silence between them is heavy, but footsteps echo from above as the other occupants of the ship must surely be running around. Conan wonders what the next move will be.

“I suppose I’ve heard quite a bit about that guy. The so-called Heisei Holmes or something like that, yeah?”

It might be childish of him, but it probably works to sell the image—Conan crosses his arms. “He’s better than so-called, thief!”

Kaito chuckles. He cracks his neck, stepping forward and closer to Conan as if regaining his bravado. He’s improvising.

“One of his admirers, are you?” Kaito asks, amused.

“I don’t just admire him,” Conan replies, quietly. “I know him.”

“Do you now?” Kaito looks doubtful, but quickly hides this expression with a Cheshire grin. “Maybe you can tell me something. Is it true that he disappeared? I don’t typically concern myself with detectives, but it’s strange that such a brilliant young mind like that would disappear for months…”

Conan fights to maintain eye contact. “He’s fine,” he says in quiet admission. “And he doesn’t need you worrying about him.”

The words spill out before he can contain them—his tone sharp enough that Kaito blinks in obvious surprise, clearly taken aback by the harshness in Conan’s response.

“It was just a question, Tantei-kun, but I thank you for your honesty.”

Chapter Text

Ran hums to herself as she dusts the window sill, sunlight is streaming in. The town is bustling as it always does, but it’s a rare and quiet day in the agency. Her father is off gambling again—probably betting on horses or playing slots as he loses more money than he gains on alcohol; Conan was dragged into the forest with those friends of his to hunt for beetles or something like that, she’s almost certain. Either way, the day is hers to seize—or at least, it is until Sonoko stops by.

Her humming is broken by a quiet staccato on the door.

Setting down her duster, she frowns. Ran wipes her hands on her apron, wondering to herself if a client is stopping by. How unfortunate that would be considering her father is not here to help. The knocking comes again, this time a little louder. She hurries to open the door.

“Hi, welcome,” she says, the door just barely cracked open when she does so, “how can I—oh.”

In the agency’s threshold stands Kuroba Kaito in all of his miserable glory. Immediately, a wave of anger overtakes her, but she reins it in upon noticing his less-than-stellar appearance. The usually chipper, mischievous young man has since been replaced with a more worn-out version. His usually messy hair seems unnaturally so; it’s as if he’s been running his fingers through it again and again. In his hand is a small box with a rather ornate logo that feels familiar to her.

“What do you want, Kuroba?” she asks, straightening up. Ran squares her shoulders, poised and ready like a threatened viper. Her grip on the door handle tightens. “It’s been months. You shouldn’t even be here.”

At least Kuroba has the decency to look apologetic as he extends the box towards her. “A fruit tart,” he elaborates, “for your time. I just… Mouri-cha—Mouri-san, I know this is sudden, but—”

”Sudden? Sudden? You mean like how you suddenly took my best friend’s heart and stomped all over it?” She sniffs, turning her head and crossing her arms to refuse the offering. Pastries are a superficial means of apologizing for this. Perhaps she’s being dramatic, but she truly had never seen Shinichi as off-kilter as he had been after the break-up. “You have some nerve coming here, Kuroba. I’m Shinichi’s friend before I was ever yours.”

That last part might have been too cruel—even for her. Ran catches the way Kuroba flinches at her coldness. For a moment, she feels bad. She then notices the shadows under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. His arm drops and the box thumps against his leg, but his grip remains tight. His gaze meets hers, looking more alive and determined than it had been seconds prior. “I know. I know I messed up and believe me I will do everything I can to make it up to you. But, first, I need to see Shinichi. I know he hasn’t been home. But my calls and texts won’t go through. I just really need to talk to him, Mouri-san. Please.”

She purses her lips and steps aside, gesturing for him to come in. As she closes the door behind her, Kuroba takes a seat, setting the fruit tart down on the coffee table. He looks at her, imploringly, when she finally says, “Join the club. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks myself.”

Kuroba looks ill at her response. A part of her aches when she sees his shoulders droop. “Some guy came to see me a few weeks ago looking for Shinichi. He said that no one’s seen him in months. What happened?”

Ran shrugs, taking the seat across from him. He’s talking about Hattori, she realizes. Ran mulls over what she does know. She had seen Shinichi a few weeks ago, but he had looked physically unwell and had asked that no one mention his presence. It was a sharp contrast from the confident and cocky detective she had grown up with. Before, Shinichi would not shy away from the spotlight. Even after Kuroba had ended things, Shinichi still stood tall in the face of a mystery. He was fine That night. So what happened since then…?

”Do you actually care about that?” she asks, her tone more biting than she had intended. Forgive her for being angry with him right now. It’s a lot easier to be upset with him now that the stupid magician is here in front of her. “You dump him over the phone, talking about how you rushed into things and shouldn’t see each other again, and you think you can give me a fruit tart and I’ll tell you everything there is to know?”

If asked, Ran would say that Shinichi must be unwell. She honestly worries that something in him had snapped That night at Tropical Land upon hearing about the ex-girlfriend’s motive. Shinichi had appeared… unwell when she saw him during that diplomat case. But unfortunately, if Agasa or his parents know anything about Shinichi checking into a hospital or other, then they aren’t telling her. Even if this were the case, it doesn’t seem like something Shinichi wants anyone to know—not even her, apparently…

”I screwed up. I know. If he’ll take me back, I’ll do anything I can to make it up to him,” Kuroba says, his voice quiet but resolute. “And if he won’t, I’ll still get on my knees and apologize to him a million times if it means I can see him again. I was a dumbass and a coward. And I’m sorry, Mouri-san, but I can’t tell you why I did what I did, but I owe it to him at least if he would hear me out.”

She searches his face. Ran doesn’t need to be a detective to see that he is being completely honest. With a sigh, she says, “I can’t tell you much, but…”

Chapter Text

At this point, Kaito thinks that he’s exhausted all leads. Ran knew only a little more than he was able to piece together on his own. The Tropical Land camera feeds from that night had expired before Kaito even knew his detective had gone missing. Kaito even went so far as to look at travel records and hospital stays. He doesn’t know where else to look for answers, so he half-heartedly pulls out one of his gadgets to start tinkering.

It’s a quiet night. Homework has been done. Aoko invited him to dinner, but he declined. Every door and window in his house is locked, with blinds closed to allow him enough privacy to clutter his bedroom desk with all sorts of tools and schematics that he’d pulled from his father’s hidden room.

A chime on his computer signals to him that his mother is calling him. He thought about ignoring her, but the overwhelming need to talk to someone prompts him to accept.

Wherever she is, it’s fairly lavish. The hotel she’s staying at is so clean with crisp white walls and light blue accents. It must be daytime wherever she is because sunlight is streaming in, juxtaposing Japan’s darkened skies. She’s enjoying tea with a few cakes stacked meticulously on a tiered metal tray.

“Ah, Kai-chan, how are you?” she says, opening the way for conversation. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

The dam breaks and Kaito plunges into his story. It’s been eating him alive all of these days, worrying endlessly for Shinichi. He can’t let their last phone call be the end of it. Even if Shinichi won’t take him back, Kaito needs to be able to fix this. He knows his mother and feels safe in assuming she’s already swept the room for bugs, so he doesn’t need to completely censor everything. After he finishes, her face betrays a sense of deep concern. 

“Missing?” echoes Chikage, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean Shinichi’s missing?”

Kaito’s fingers tighten around the screwdriver in his hand. He’s still trying to refine one of his gadgets, but it’s not gone very well considering his otherwise preoccupied mind. Without looking up, he replies, “He’s just missing. And I didn’t even know it. After I broke up with him, I cut off all contact. And he never once tried to see me. Then he just fell off the face of the Earth without me knowing. I talked to Mouri-chan to see if she knew anything, but she doesn’t know that much more than I do…”

His stomach flips, feeling restless like the angry sea. It felt like I would never see him again, says Ran’s voice in his head when she recalled the last time she had really seen Shinichi. The look on her face haunts him: a painfully worried, devastated visage with watery eyes. She had seemed so unsure about whether Shinichi was okay. After all, that case weeks ago where he’d appeared out of thin air and disappeared about the same. And those people in black going into his house… Clearly Shinichi has gone and gotten himself into trouble. Something wasn’t right with that—whoever those people were left virtually no trace in that house. And he’d know. He went back the other night looking for clues.

“Yukiko-chan hasn’t told me anything about that,” murmurs Chikage, frowning into her tea. “Then again, we’ve both been busy. I saw that she and Yūsaku-san were in Rome. Wouldn’t that be such a fun place to go sometime? Maybe once things calm down…”

Kaito pauses in his tinkering, blinking in amazement. “Do his parents even know he’s missing?”

Chikage stills before she lowers her cup slowly. With a shake of her head, “If you didn’t know, I doubt they would. It’s not exactly Japan’s latest news that we hear about first when we’re abroad. And you know them—they love Shinichi, but they aren’t exactly the most attentive parents when they’re running from Yūsaku’s editors.”

He hates to agree. Kaito loves Shinichi’s parents, but he recognizes how absent they can be. His own mother didn’t pick up and leave until a year ago, but even then they Skyped regularly and she’d drop in a lot more than the Kūdos ever do.

“Do you think you could let them know?” asks Kaito, finally ending his tinkering. He would do it himself, but he doesn’t know if they’d be willing to pick up the phone for him. “I’m sure they’d be able to get all the people they need looking for him. Officially, I mean.”

Chikage looks at him, eyes soft. “I’ll see if I can reach them. But… Kai-chan… if Shinichi chose to disappear, maybe he doesn’t want to be found just yet.”

“But why would he want to disappear?” Kaito counters, stressed. There’s no reasonable explanation other than his detective has gotten himself into trouble. Even Shinichi isn’t so dramatic as to worry his closest friends to the point of feeling sick. “Kāsan, I promised that no one would ever hurt him and I did—I hurt him. And now someone else has probably hurt him too.”

After a long pause, all she says is, “For what it’s worth, you were just trying to protect him, weren’t you?”

Kaito nods.

“You’re a good boy, Kai-chan. Sometimes you’re a bit foolish, but love makes you do silly things. You take after Tōichi in that regard…” She falls silent for a few seconds, a look of deep thought overtaking her features. Then, quietly, she adds, “You have my blessing to tell him everything once you find him. I trust that you’ll be able to protect him much better that way. I think you’d be surprised by his reaction.”

“What makes you say that?” Kaito asks, feeling warmed at the idea of being so much like his father. Still, he loathes the idea of confessing to Shinichi about his alter ego. “I think we both know it’s dangerous.”

“Women’s intuition,” she quips. 

Chapter Text

Conan sticks a pinky in his ear, twisting it around to make sure he’s not experiencing some sort of build up. Clogged as it may be, he’s almost positive he heard Sonoko wrong. But then Ran speaks up, her words an echo of Sonoko’s and it only confirms that the lightheadedness is not making him hear things.

“A magic lover’s gathering?” she echoes, looking at Sonoko as if she had grown two heads. “Why would you want to go to that?”

Sonoko simply claps a hand down on Ran’s shoulder. “My dear Ran,” begins the heiress, “that Kurobastard may have tainted magic for me, but Kid-sama has still managed to worm his way into my heart. He’s just sooo dreamy and I need to be able to impress him next time so he can see how perfect I am for him!” She fluffs up her hair with the other hand. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’ve been talking with someone that I know must be a very handsome man. I think he’s quite smitten with me and he’d be disappointed if I couldn’t make it.”

If only she knew, Conan thinks. Absently, he rubs his throat; it feels like he’s swallowing sandpaper no matter how much water and tea he drinks. A cold is coming and he knows it. He makes a mental reminder to inform Haibara of this upcoming development. Conan recalls the last time he was sick—the first time since becoming six-years-old again—and hides a grimace. Even as a teenager, he was somehow more susceptible to illness than his peers. But even the actual kids he attends Teitan Elementary with have not had the displeasure of being ailed with anything as terribly as he had; they got away with snotty noses and minor coughs, but Conan himself was completely out of commission once that cold hit full force.

“I don’t know,” murmurs Ran. “You said it’s this weekend? I mean, we’re free, so if Conan-kun wants to go then I don’t mind joining.”

“Who said the little brat was invited?” Sonoko scoffs, pulling her hand away from Ran to jab a finger in Conan’s direction. “He’s a bit cursed, don’t you think? Besides, I just need Ojīsama to drive us there. I’d have one of our drivers do it, but if my parents found out I wanted to go to another remote villa, they might actually lock me up and throw away the key!”

“Be nice.” Ran only rolls her eyes, having grown used to Sonoko picking at Conan. “Besides, you know I’m supposed to be watching Conan-kun. What if something happens to him while we’re away?”

At this, Conan tugs on the hem of Ran’s jacket. “Nē, Ran-nēchan, I think you should go. I’m a big boy and I have Kogorō-ojīsama and Agasa-hakase.”

Not that he needs either of the latter two to take care of himself. Although he would love nothing more than to be there to protect Ran in case things go awry, he’s rather looking forward to being on his own for once. Sure, he and Kogorō share a room, but the man is likely going to take advantage of Ran’s absence to spend the day at the horse races or playing mahjong without a care in the world. He can spend his days, alone, nursing his cold and reading Detective Samonji until his eyes feel like they might fall out. It’s the perfect weekend, if you ask him.

Although clearly unhappy with the idea, Ran sighs. She turns back to Sonoko, saying that she will come. The other girl whoops and cheers, exclaiming that she will not regret it—maybe there will be a cute guy there for Ran, too. To her credit, Ran only titters and reminds her that she still needs to ask her father for permission. But Conan doesn’t doubt that the man—although perhaps initially hesitant—will ultimately agree to have a weekend free from his daughter’s nagging and watchful eye.

Conan gives himself a mental pat on the back for his minor manipulation. As much as he wants to ensure Ran’s safety with his own hands, he does not want to be surrounded by the one thing that would remind him all too much of Kaito; it’s the same reason that he’s made the decision to avoid attending Kid heists at all costs—aside from the fact that thievery has never been one of his interests anyway. Knowing now Kaito’s secret, he has some inkling as to why he had broken up with him. But the sting of betrayal at being the one thing Kaito chose to leave behind is too strong. The fact that Kaito lied to him, leaving him out of such a secret…. It’s not something he can easily get over right now.

He doesn’t understand why Kaito is moonlighting as the thief, but he does know that he still cares too much for Kaito to rat him out to the authorities.

To his chagrin, Ran made Conan come on the drive up to the villa. She insisted that although he was unwell, she did not want him to be alone for how long it would take Kogorō to drive the girls up and back—assuming that the man went straight home, that is. Conan was too sick to care about any of the people that Ran and Sonoko are staying with for the weekend. But when the radio bulletin comes through about a murdered man and his connection to a magic lover’s gathering, he regrets not paying closer attention to see if he can sense any bad intentions amongst those at the villa. Someone was murdered and it’s likely that that person is right there in the villa.

He hardly has his wits about him as he and Kogorō speed back towards that place. He loses all sense of logic as he runs across the burning bridge. All he can think is that he needs to make sure Ran is safe.

Chapter Text

It was a little awkward when Yoshinori named Kaito’s father as the Japanese magician that he’d most admired considering the way that Ran and Sonoko tensed up at the name. And even more so when Sonoko made a spectacle of liking his alter ego. But the evening took a turn for the worst when Ran’s little charge showed up, barely conscious, outside of the villa long after having left.

Soon enough, little Edogawa Conan arises from his fever-induced slumber, clearly unwell, announcing to everyone that the Escape King was found dead in his apartment. There’s something about the sudden aura to Conan as he stands before everyone, unsteady on his feet and still sweating bullets, explaining with a serious voice unbefitting of a child that a message had been left at the scene implying that Nishiyama was only the first victim…

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Kaito is the first one out the door after Ran shakily points out the body of Hamano lying in the undisturbed bed of snow. And he’s seen Shinichi in action enough times to know what to do. Playing into his role as a medical student, he quickly ascertains that Hamano is dead, snapping at everyone not to come any closer so as to avoid contaminating the area any further.

“It’s no use, he’s already dead,” he says, grimly. Setting down Hamano’s body carefully, he closes his eyes. “We must not disturb the scene.”

“The scene?” Ara echoes, voice trembling.

“Don’t you see?” asks Conan, his voice stronger than it had been minutes ago. “The corpse is more than ten meters away from the lodge and the only footprints left are those of that man who just walked up to him.”

Although still stricken with grief for the man, Kaito can’t help but marvel at the little detective’s attitude. He can almost see Shinichi in this child and it makes him wonder just how close the two are—he’s never heard his detective ever mention Conan. But this child appears unusually precocious for his age. At least, he had seemed to be in the two previous encounters that Kaito had had with him as Kaitō Kid.

“He’s right,” Kaito cuts in, unable to tear his eyes away from the body. He doesn’t understand how Shinichi does it. The strangulation marks are obvious beneath the man’s collar. By his sides, his fists clench—if he had only realized her intentions sooner... “This is an impossible crime.”

When Ran remarks that she also wants to find a sweater—anything really to provide Conan with additional warmth—Kaito volunteers to accompany her and Tanaka. The least he can do for Shinichi is ensure Ran’s safety, after all, and keep up the pretense that he has no clue who the killer could be. But it’s kind of cute to see the little detective get stuffed and essentially buried in a sweater three times his size—a welcome distraction from the unfortunate circumstances at hand. He’s impressed at the way Conan manages to interrogate Ran, questioning the events that had occurred after he and the old man had left. To anyone else, it’s simply a child’s innocent curiosity. To Kaito, it’s the subtle manipulation to glean information.

He’s seen Shinichi do that before.

Kaito’s silent musings about Conan are broken at the shattering of glass. There’s a scream from downstairs. Kaito moves faster than anyone else, determined to keep Ran and Sonoko safe—and the little detective too, he supposes.

It’s everyone’s first instinct to surmise that the arrows had been shot by the mysterious Shadow from outside. The crossbow being found outside only solidifies that. But, being a man of illusions, Kaito knows better.

Frustrated, he pounds a fist into the snow-covered ground, cursing.

But as he watches Conan probe every other attendant, he can’t help but feel reminded even further of Shinichi. Then, he notices that the little detective isn’t with them after everyone’s agreed to head back inside. He rounds the corner back to where they had just been and watches as the kid does an impressive bit of parkour to launch himself onto the broken window, peering above its awning to gaze at the exterior wall.

Kaito plops down on his bed with a groan.

This weekend had not gone according to plan at all. Thanks to a few lucky (or, perhaps, strategic) questions from Conan to the other attendees, Kaito was able to deduce the who and the how. Because he wanted to ensure the girls’ safety, he risked arousing suspicion by solving the case himself, even going so far as to be the one to shoot the arrows to reveal the tricks used to make it appear as though someone else were attacking.

At least one of his objectives had been more or less taken care of after the whole ordeal. But his secondary objective of seeing if Ran and Sonoko had anything to offer—he knew, of course, that Sonoko was the one he was speaking with—with no bias towards him went unanswered. With all the commotion, there was hardly time to try and bring up the topic of Shinichi without completely looking suspicious.

Although…

Kaito considers exploring a new lead. Maybe the little detective can help shed some light on a few questions. Or, at the very least, Kaito hopes to maybe learn a thing or two about his detective. But, first, he needs a reason to talk to little Edogawa Conan.

With only a bit of hesitation, he finds Ran’s contact in his phone and calls her. To his surprise, she picks up swiftly, only allowing two rings in before she answers:

“Moshi, moshi. Is something wrong?”

“Sorry for calling late,” he says, avoiding her name. Kaito isn’t currently sure where they stand, but he hopes to figure it out by the end of this conversation. “I know you might not want to see me, but I was wondering if we could maybe meet up this weekend?”