A/N:Once upon a time (aka four years ago) I wrote a story based on a prompt. Because of the nature of the story in my head, it had a sad ending, and I left it on a feeling of regret. Not just for the characters, but for myself as well. Then, and even now, I struggle with my writing. Not because I love writing any less, but because I feel inadequate. I was at a time in my life where happy endings were beyond my scope of imagination, and I believed myself incapable of ever following through on finishing this story. I am deeply sorry for that. Many of you have asked if I would ever continue this story, and I truly believed I wouldn't. Just as with everyone else's lives, mine was full of adventures (some small and some unbelievable to the girl I was four years ago). I can see a happy ending now, and I admit I considered never returning to this story, but your comments and considerations and belief in me inspired me to return to one of my regrets and finally share that happy ending with you. I can only hope you enjoy this thanks I give you all for loving "Letters to the Moon." Sincerely, thank you for loving this at a time I couldn't love it for myself.

I just wanted to... I dunno? Respond? Thank? All those people who commented on LtM after I let everyone know I was finally posting the sequel.

peeps: Yu-GONE, Dragon Queen Niji, and bluesnowflakes21

AO3 peeps: Thunder_Jake, Namjoon stop cutting onions, and MeiriLorii (Lorii_chan)

All of your comments made me smile, and y'all were so sweet. XD I hope this is as good as you hoped. Now let's give Shinichi a "Happy Birthday!"

Regret is that moment when… there are no tricks. There is no turning back, no second chances, no magic, and what-ifs turn from hope to accusations. Kaito had very few regrets, and he lived so that he may never drown in that loss again. Regret held little space in his heart, that consuming ache settling near the grief that had become far more familiar. These things never left, and Kaito could admit he was fine with that. An all-consuming purpose along with a love of life, people, and the simple magic in the world buoyed him. Come raging seas or calm waters, he knew he could hold onto those things.

Kaito did not speak of those things though. Did not turn his eyes often to the currents promising to pull him under. To never see the light in the sky again. He loved to fly, and so he did. Beyond those currents, beyond the sky, all the way to the unreachable moon. For all the dangers in the world, Kaito was safe there. He was safe there. His heart was safe there. Nothing could touch him. Hurt him. Drag him under. Drown him or silence him.

Phantom Thief KID: a playful gentleman, a witty magician, a brilliant mind, a wily thief. The ever-elusive moon. He wanted… he wanted. Sometimes he could call on simple desires or grand desires. The love of family, the eternity of a life well-spent with love and happiness. The shine of a jewel, or the thrill of the chase. Parsing the meaning behind Kaito's desires was, to him, a waste of time. Either way, he wanted.

To Shinichi,

He wanted to turn back time. This time he couldn't hold his breath and swim back to the surface. This time he drowned. He flattened trembling hands on yet another empty letter.

To Shinichi,

How could he reveal this part of him? Those currents flowing on and on beneath the surface… No smoke, no mirrors. Just the core of Kuroba Kaito, of the mysterious phantom thief. The letters were always for Shinichi, but now Kaito found he needed them just as much. Needed the magical moment that Shinichi and Kaito were within reach of each other despite the boundless space between them.

It's too late.

For what, he didn't know. Or he knew, but couldn't yet admit that. Now he knew that he had taken something from Shinichi that the young man needed. Something that could never be returned. Kaito grit his teeth and ripped the page from his notebook and stuffed it in his bag with the rest of the empty letters. He had promised Shinichi that he wouldn't be pushed away, deterred from his requited love of the great detective. He promised that, and he meant it!

Pressing back against the tree they shared for months, Kaito looked up at the starry sky through the foliage. It was a gentle night. Soothing the roiling waves beneath Kaito's skin, and he closed his eyes to it. Shinichi, whom had somehow become the love of Kaito's life, was trapped. The famous teen detective who mysteriously disappeared three years prior was none other than the ten years younger "cousin" with the same flare for solving crimes. Kaito debated the wisdom in falling in love with someone stuck in a child's body, but he could hardly help that particular infatuation.

The thief scoffed and, unbidden, the memory of Conan secured in his arms tingled along his skin. Conan was small for a nine-year-old, but full of all the energy and brilliance belonging to his older body. It hurt seeing the fear flood his beautiful eyes. Hurt seeing Shinichi rebuff him even though they both knew they shared their feelings. All for the same reasons Kaito never wanted anyone to know he and KID were one and the same. If anyone knew, he and Shinichi could lose so much more than just their lives. That would mean their purpose, their small joys, their loved ones would all be lost. Scorched away by the merciless sun that sought to tear their secrets from them. So, Shinichi and Kaito would continue to hide, continue to act from the shadows and the depths. All to protect everything that made their lies worth telling.

Kaito gazed down at the next page of his journal, blank as the next. Full of the letters to come, the truths to reveal in shaded secret, and the promises to be made. He smiled—wryly, painfully, tearfully—but it was a smile. It was a gasp for air answered. Kaito knew regret, and though he would not speak of it, it was a familiar ache in his heart settling so near his grief. He would not let the currents pull his gaze down. Kaito was meant to fly.

To Shinichi,

I have one last riddle for you.

Every aborted letter filling his backpack, every "To Shinichi," followed by empty pages, was straightened then folded by clever hands. Kaito placed the first, then the next, then the next, all neatly piled in the hidden vault of their shared tree. Until his final confession lay on top. One last riddle indeed. He smiled at the unspoken words guarded from the world.

Who am I?