Chapter Text
The heavy curtain still hides him from the audience – for now. Muffled murmurs reach his ears; the applause slowly dies down. Kaito’s white satin-shirt clings to his back – the fire act really made him sweat. One last deep breath. He glances to his right. The crew gives him the go-ahead.
They’re ready for the encore.
So is the audience.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” His voice echoes through the hall, clear and commanding. With a dramatic flourish, Kaito puts his black top hat back on, a cloud of smoke appears on stage – and he’s in the middle of it. His arms are spread wide, the top hat casting a shadow over his face. His usual showman smile – not a smirk, that was KID’s trademark – vanishes the moment he looks into the audience.
It’s empty.
Like a ghost town. Not a single seat is occupied. Kaito’s poker face slips as he glances to the side. The crew has vanished too. He frowns. In slow motion, he lets his arms drop.
The smoke around his feet thickens. Darkens. Crawls higher.
He tries to step off stage, but his legs won’t move. The fog gets heavier, denser, choking his lungs, blinding him.
He covers his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, crouches down – only making it worse. One hand on the floor, knees weak.
Shit! races through his mind. That’s not a smoke bomb, that’s—
“Fire,” says a familiar voice, one that’s slowly slipping from his memory. The deadly fog begins to clear. Kaito is still on the ground, squinting upward with effort. Everything is blurry.
A figure stands in front of him, dressed completely in white. No cape, no top hat, just a simple suit. The figure – a man – kneels before him. Kaito coughs. The man lifts his hand, as if to touch him, but then hesitates, takes his hand back.
“The trick isn’t over yet, my son.”
Kaito freezes, blinking hard to see clearly.“F-father?!”
Suddenly, unfamiliar hands grab Kaito – by the arms, his shirt, his hair – pulling him away from his father. He fights with all his strength not to lose consciousness. And sight of Toichi.
“Kaito,” Toichi says, his lips moving.
But Kaito can no longer hear what his father is trying to say.
Toichi bursts into flames — with a smile on his lips.
Kaito bolts upright with a gasp and nearly falls out of bed. His heart races, nausea rises in his chest. Sweat clings to his neck, his hair sticks to his forehead.
It takes a moment to realize:
This is not his bed.
Not his room.
Not his home.
And it takes another agonizing moment to register: he’s at Shinichi’s. The tension and fear drain from his body with that realization, and he falls back into the pillow. Grimacing as he notices how damp the fabric is.
Kaito sits at the edge of the bed. The smell of coffee reaches his nose, but he’s too drenched in sweat to face Shinichi like this, so he quickly hops in the shower and grabs one of Shinichi’s training pants afterward. His wet hair drips onto the shirt he pulls over his head as he taps through his phone, heading toward the kitchen.
Five missed calls, twelve messages.
The first three are from his mother, one from Akako, and— oh, Hakuba? Interesting. Kaito doesn’t even consider calling him back and skims through the messages instead.
Mom: 𝙺𝙸𝙳 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗?
Mom: 𝙺𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘?
Mom: 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝?
Mom: 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙹𝚒𝚒, 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎?
Mom: 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎!
The rest are similar, but Akako’s makes him pause.
Akako: 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.
Damn that witch. She could’ve warned him afterall. With a final eye-roll, he puts the phone away and enters the kitchen. Shinichi stands at the window, coffee in hand, staring out.
Kaito stops to take in the scene. He watches the detective. Tense shoulders and furrowed brows. Shinichi doesn’t look like someone basking in victory.
He looks like someone preparing for the next battle.
Kaito clears his throat. Shinichi flinches but doesn’t spill his coffee.
“Good morning,” Shinichi says after clearing his throat, clutching the cup a little tighter. He gives Kaito a once-over. “Still in pain?”
He shakes his head. “Have you been up long?”
Shinichi exhales deeply, gestures with his chin for Kaito to sit.
Oh no, Kaito thinks, here it comes.
“Coffee?” Shinichi asks, lifting the pot after Kaito sits down. His voice is gentle, his gaze almost pitying. Everything in Kaito tightens.
What’s Shinichi about to say? That he regrets the journey? That it was all a mistake? That Kaito isn’t good enough?
“Kaito,” Shinichi sets down a steaming cup in front of him. Kaito sniffs – it’s cocoa. “I can practically hear your panicked thoughts." Shinichi places his own cup down, sits across from him, and puts a hand over Kaito’s.
Kaito stares at their hands, feeling the warmth from Shinichi. “Then could you not greet me so seriously?” he tries to lighten the mood, though he’s not really in the mood for jokes.
Shinichi smiles faintly. “Sorry. Haibara was already here. Even before I had my first coffee.”
Kaito brushes his thumb across Shinichi’s hand.
Haibara showing up this early was never a good sign.
“We have a small problem,” Shinichi says. “Don’t know why, but that woman – the one in the photo with your father? She’s suddenly back in Japan.”
Kaito blinks. Nods. Furrows his brows.
“Wait, what?”
Shinichi pulls out his phone – the page is already open. The headline leaps out:
ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝔾𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝔸𝕣𝕥! 𝕃𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕪 ℝ𝕖𝕚𝕜𝕒 𝕋𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕞𝕚 𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠!
Kaito grabs the phone with both hands, brows furrowed as he reads the entire article. Twice, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
“So,” Kaito begins, proud that his poker face holds and his voice is steady, “Yuuto Kamishiro was just… the beginning?”
Shinichi looks as helpless as Kaito feels. In those blue eyes, he sees that flicker of pity again – something he usually despises.
“It seems so. I don’t think her reappearance is a coincidence.”
“Wonderful.”
“Kaito—”
He shakes his head. “I knew from the beginning that my father’s legacy wouldn’t be an easy one.” He lifts his cup to keep his hands busy. “But I’d hoped for a slightly longer break.”
“Me too. For you.” Then: “For us.”
Kaito’s ears grow warm. He leans back, eyes fixed on the tabletop. Even if Shinichi no longer looks at him with pity, he doesn’t dare look up.
Whatever’s waiting in his gaze, he’s not ready for it.
The kitchen falls silent.
Kaito’s appetite fades, and he ends up pushing the cocoa aside and getting up. “I’ll go check on Jii. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Before he can leave the table, Shinichi gently grabs his forearm. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Kaito finally looks at him.
Shinichi opens his mouth, then closes it. He says: “You don’t have to wait that long.”
With a kiss on Shinichi’s cheek, the thief slips out of the Kudo estate.