DISCLAIMER: Magic Kaito is the respective creation and property of Gosho Aoyama.

AUTHOR: Melpomene-the-Tragic-Parody

MAIN CHARACTERS: Kaito Kuroba, Aoko Nakamori

CHAPTER: #1

TITLE: My Heart Will Go On

INSPIRED BY: ~ My Heart Will Go On, by Celine Dion ~

~M.K~

Aoko found herself outside the reception, staring at the night sky from behind her little corner beside the stone railing. Maybe the stress had been too stifling for her to handle with only two hours of sleep and hour-long sessions with the planner over the phone. All she knew was that she had been pacing back and forth, trying to calm her future parents-in-law about a mistake in their dinner orders while the rest of the dinner guests had broken out into a hazy amount of chatter.

One thing led to another when she had crashed into one of the waiters while caught in a frazzled haste to escape the mother of her fiance who wouldn't stop criticizing her poor choice of venue, which had led to the champagne knocked over and soaking her from her hair to her dress.

The room had finally gone silent. All eyes were on her. Heart racing, head spinning, and temper rising, Aoko did the only thing she could think of to diffuse the situation without bloodshed.

She grabbed her purse and stormed off without a word, even when her fiance chased after her. She quietly requested time alone, and the look on her face must have warned him not to interfere should he wish to survive the night. He truly was a smart lad.

She ignored her father and flew through the doors at a speed to envy a flea. It was confounding how the urgency for solitude took her to the other side of the hotel, passed curious guests and staff members without a single word or glance. Outside, she found herself near the gardens facing the mountains, faintly outlined against the night sky. Aoko was too tired to care. Here it was quiet and peaceful. No one to badger her. It was the perfect place to collect herself before she ended up strangling someone.

"Stuffy old woman," she said crossly. Without a doubt, she would hear about her conduct in the morning, followed by whispers to her fiance that she was clearly the wrong choice.

How fate had managed to set her up with such a picky mother-in-law was beyond Aoko. How did such a woman manage to raise a fine son? Aoko had grown up without her own mother to prepare her for such things, and the closest maternal figure she ever had was quite a free-spirited woman whom one would not have thought to be a mother. As if life had not been bizarre enough, she found herself wishing for that old, little fantasy of actually having that woman as her mother-in-law.

But that meant marrying a certain someone, and that was impossible.

Aoko groaned and closed her eyes, fighting the tears wanting to crop up. There was only a week left to the ceremony. If this was how she handled one dinner, how was she supposed to fair for the rest of her life? For birthdays and holidays and grandchildren? She had already been disliked for not being more traditional, but to be outright rude was bound to put question marks in the air, followed by many exclamation marks.

"Are you all right, miss?" she heard someone ask. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a uniformed young man standing behind her, one of the hotel's employees no doubt.

"Ah, yes," she replied, her voice cracking slightly. "I just needed some air. I'll be inside in a moment."

She turned back to the night sky, her heart heavy. From the silence, she could have sworn he had left, which was why she jumped when he spoke again.

"You must be cold," he said. "Would you like for me to fetch your coat?"

Aoko forced a small smile on her face. "No, thank you. Really, I won't be out long."

This time, she remained facing him and was slightly puzzled that he only bowed but remained where he was standing. There was no one else around to see them. In fact, from where they were standing, they would not be easily spotted from within the confines of the hotel windows or doors. Aoko shivered, not only from the cold but from the vague sense of foreboding.

"What's your name?" she asked, her weary mind holding onto enough sense to keep vigilant. Something was not right about him.

"Shimizu Shiro, miss," the young man replied. "You shouldn't be alone out here. It's dangerous at night."

Aoko grasped her hands over her arms. "And am I any safer with you here?"

Shimizu's expression never changed. "Honestly? No."

Aoko's heavy heart began to race. She knew how to defend herself, naturally, but her chances of running passed him weren't great with her shoes. Before she could ever plan on discarding them, the young man sighed and walked right passed her, opting to sit on the stone baluster railing and gaze up at the sky, leaving her pathway clear.

"The full moon has passed," he commented, watching at the pale orb partially hidden behind smoky clouds. "It's always beautiful to look at, but so sad. Don't you think, Nakamori-san?"

Aoko blinked. "I never told you my name."

Shimizu's smile was kind, though his eyes were distant. "This hotel is hosting your wedding. It's quite a grand honor, and it would be foolish to forget you."

Aoko's suspicions began to wane slightly, but not much. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Hmm?" Shimizu shrugged. "I don't work here."

"But you're wearing their uniform!"

His eyes gleamed mischievously. "I was cold."

The clouds passed, and the two were showered in the moonlight. It was only then that Aoko truly got a good look at the young man sitting before her. What she had mistaken for dress trousers and shoes were actually black jeans and boots. The gloves on his hands were also black instead of cream. All he wore was the upper piece of the uniform. His hair was dark, and she was so certain she had never seen him before in her life.

Until she saw the color of his eyes.

All thoughts of running back to the reception area to deal with her future in-laws vanished as his eyes finally caught hold of hers. All frustrations and fear drained from her body, leaving her numb and unable to speak.

"It can't be," she whispered, falling a few steps back in shock.

In her five and twenty years in this world, Aoko realized that this moment was fate's cruelest trick. Not her in-laws. Fate must have been waiting to throw this at her when she needed it the least, just to add a bit more pain to that kick. Because she knew those eyes. Ever since she was a child. They were engraved not only to memory but to her heart, never to be erased, though she had tried.

Bluer than sapphires. Bluer than her own, or any shade on the scale. Sharp, knavish, and glimmering with mischief, there had only been one man in her whole world to ever own that shade of blue.

"Kaito," she breathed. All her woes momentarily flew into the air. "You can't be…"

The young man smiled. The look was so generically kind that Aoko hadn't noticed that it never reached his eyes, clear of any secrets she could crack.

"Why can't I be?" he asked, dropping the false voice and letting a deeper tenor take hold. Aoko's entire body shuddered, exceptionally warm at the sound. "It's not like I was trying to hide from you. Otherwise, this would have been a different conversation."

Heat flooded Aoko's being, her heart lost in its race, and her body shivered, now oblivious to the chill in the night air. She stumbled away, shaking her head repetitively.

"No, you can't be!" she insisted, her voice high. Her sleep-deprived mind had finally caught up with her. "You can't be Kaito! You're a dream. Or I'm going mad!"

Yet, in front of her eyes, he reached up a face and tentatively removed the mask plastered over his face, like those he used to use on his night job. The very occupation that had stolen him away from her those years ago. Tears welling at the corners of her eyes at the sight of the young man sitting on the railing.

Dark hair a disheveled, untamable mess to rival her own, a chiseled, smooth face of a man capable of breaking a thousand hearts, and those blue eyes, unfathomable and mysterious as the last day she had seen him standing before her. Older than she remembered by six years, so real she wished she could reach out and touch him.

"You're not mad, Aoko," Kaito said, descending from the railing with prudent grace.

"You can't be here!" Aoko insisted, her voice quivering with emotion. "You're dead!"

She thought she witnessed a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, but it vanished before she could inspect closer.

"So, what if I am? A guy can't come and visit his best friend?" Kaito pouted. "I'm hurt."

Only standing a mere few inches away from her, Kaito reached out his hand and in a blink of an eye, a lovely white rose bloomed into existence. Soft and glowing in the moonlight, it had a simple blue ribbon tied around its stem. The air was unfathomably cold now as she tentatively reached out her hand, and with a mild gasp, accepted the rose from his hand, his gloved hand bristling against her own. It was real enough. Not a delusion. Aoko held out her other hand, and with a bit of daring, rested her fingers against his cheek.

"Your hands are icy!" Kaito complained almost immediately.

The tears finally spilled over. Torn between joy and sorrow, Aoko took that blessed opportunity to smack him in the face. He yelped in surprise.

"Or maybe you spent too much time in hell!" she snapped at him. Kaito winced and held up his hands defensively, her red palm print standing out on his cheek. "Anything below charring flames is cold to you!"

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" he asked, laughing weakly.

"Harsh? You want to know what's harsh, Kuroba Kaito?" Aoko demanded, her tone deadly quiet. He almost flinched. "Finding out my best friend, the man I was in love with, was the internationally WANTED KAITOU KID the same night he got shot to death! You bled out in my arms! My father had a field day! Your mother almost had a heart attack! And I had to plan your funeral! You burning in hell is a long way from harsh!"

She was glad he had the common decency to look bashful, poker face be damned.

"Alright. I'll give you that one," he admitted, embarrassed. Then he sighed and offered her a smirk. "Though, that drowned cat look of yours really compliments that dress. Quite a daring cut in front of the in-laws, don't you think? There's no space to flip anything."

Aoko had never blushed so hard.

"If you want to die again…" she growled at him, sniffling.

Kaito grinned. "Actually, I'm here for something far more perilous."

Aoko's heart skipped, goosebumps rising on her skin. "And that would be?"

He pulled away from her and shed the uniform jacket to reveal a plain blue shirt, similar to the one from his old costume. His scent lingered to the fabric as he draped it over her shoulders, wrapping her in a renewed sense of warmth. Then, he swept and arms back and bowed gracefully, offering her his hand.

"A dance," he replied smoothly. "One last time."

Aoko's eyes were fixed on the smooth curves of his hands. "Why?"

"Why not? Your rehearsal dinner didn't go as planned. You're embarrassed and upset," he listed off. "Why not dance? Nothing else could go wrong."

"You said it was perilous!"

Kaito pretended to grimace. "Not for you," he said. "But if it helps, I shall willingly sacrifice the comfort of my toes."

Aoko blushed, remembering the times when Kaito was alive and had tried to teach her to waltz. She had stomped on his toes far more times than she could count, and his poker face had not been enough to disguise his pain. Even the dance lessons she had taken for her wedding lacked the skill and grace she wanted.

"Idiot," she muttered weakly, hesitantly accepting his offered hand.

It was ridiculous. She had been so far from thinking of Kaito, and how here he was, pulling her close, one warm hand holding hers, and the other latched protectively to her waist. The night air was absent of music, yet he led her through such a slow, rhythmic dance that she could almost hear it.

"Why now?" Aoko gazed up at him, willing herself to etch every curve to memory. "Why didn't you come back before?"

Kaito smirked. "Earning a pass out of hell takes time. Ah!"

Aoko would never admit to stepping on his foot on purpose.

"You're going to get married, Aoko," he finally said after a moment's silence. "It should be your happiest day, and instead, you're miserable. You don't deserve that. Not after everything I put you through."

Aoko tore her sight away from him, staring up at the moon. Somehow it washed the memories of that night across her eyes, the night that she lost Kaito forever at a ball hosted by the Suzuki Corporation for another grand Kid Heist. She had been extended an invitation. She'd tried to help capture Kid and instead found herself facing a barrel of a gun. Then he was there, a gleaming white shield for such a naive maiden. Many nights, she wished she never went. Perhaps he would still be alive…

Or maybe…

Aoko frowned and gazed deeply into her best friend's sapphire eyes. How could he really be here? After a moment's hesitation, she leaned settled her ear over his heart. Their tuneless dance came to a halt when she realized, numb to the core, that he had no heartbeat. Aoko tugged her hands from his grip, placing one on his neck and the other at his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"That won't help, Aoko," Kaito said calmly, watching as the reality slowly set in her eyes. To the truth that they both knew well.

He was still dead.

"But that's not possible," Aoko whispered. Her grip on his body tightened. "I feel you here! You-you're moving! Y-You're talking to me!"

Kaito grinned cheekily. "I've learned not to underestimate the magical wonders of the world. I would say it's my finest performance yet." His head tilted forward until their foreheads were pressed together. "Perhaps one day… I'll show you. When we meet again."

Tears crept up in the corner of Aoko's eyes. That subtle aroma of mint, linen, and smoke lingered on his person. His voice was deeper. His features were older. Aoko knew in her heart that her imagination was far beyond the torturous skill of molding the Kaito she desired most in her life into reality, alive and handsome and hers to keep. It was too real to be a dream.

"Why can't you show me now?" she asked in hushed tones. "Why can't you stay?"

At the hurt in her voice, Kaito reclaimed her hands and rested them against his neck, grasping her waist and holding her so closely that his cool breath mingled with hers. Swaying them to his soundless music, he closed his eyes.

"My time has passed here," he said. "Like my father before me. Only he was strong enough to stay in the other place. I wasn't. I had to see you again."

Aoko wasn't sure if she should even ask what he meant.

"You really have grown," he continued. "You're more beautiful than I remember."

Aoko choked out a laugh. "I must be dreaming if you're calling me beautiful and not plain," she said hoarsely. "Or unimaginative. Or irresponsible. Or too western to be a suitable wife."

Kaito's eyes opened wide, his gaze sharper than a knife.

"Is that what the batty woman said?" he said flatly, an underlying irritation lining his tone. "I should give her a piece of my mind…"

"Don't you dare!" Aoko clung tightly to him, keeping him by her side before he raced into the hotel and caused havoc. He might just give her father a heart attack. "Bakaito! You'll just make a bigger mess! The last thing I need is for people to think zombies are at my rehearsal dinner!"

Kaito snorted with laughter. "Zombies? Do I look like a decaying monster to you?"

Aoko ignored his barb. "Look. I don't even know what to think anymore! I don't even think I can go through with the wedding as is! Hideyoshi-san is… well, he's…"

"A respectable officer in the police force," Kaito said knowingly. "Miyamoto Hideyoshi. Born September 3, age 27, height 188cm, weight 92kg, blood type A, social security number—"

Aoko clamped her hand over his mouth. "How do you even know these things? You're dead!"

Silence fell over them as Kaito fondly shook his head and prized her fingers away, entwining them with his own. Cool to touch, he raised her hand to his lips and gently dotted her smooth skin with delicate kisses, like he used to before the Incident. Every touch burned her with yearning, as bizarre as it was in that moment.

"Miyamoto Aoko isn't a bad name," he pondered aloud. "Kuroba Aoko would have been better."

Tears threatened to return as his words registered in her mind. Of what it would have meant to bear Kaito's name instead of her fiance's.

"Don't," she pleaded, wanting to tug her hand free but realizing that her strength had waned. "Please don't, Kaito. I can't think about that now. It's too late. Everything is too late! At this point, my chances of being 'Miyamoto Aoko' is slim."

Kaito sighed.

"Idiot," he said, grasping her waist firmly before tearing her from her depressing thoughts into a sudden, twirling dance. Aoko squealed and clutched onto his shoulders as he sat her on the stone railing, trapping her in arms away from the rest of the world.

"Kaito!" she protested.

"Do you think I came all this way to watch you give up?" he asked. "No, because you see… Nakamori Aoko never gives up. She gets angry enough to try and murder yours truly with a mop. Or even scare her own father out of his wits. She never gives up cooking, even when she's bad at it. Easily roasting meat."

The impact of her hand on his shoulder stung them both.

"Ouch!" Kaito fought a grimace. "And she knows how to hit 'em where it hurts. But the greatest part of all is that she is extraordinarily resilient. Maybe the most resilient person that I have ever known. Regardless of crossroads you'd meet or the roadblocks daring enough to stand in your way, sheer will always drove you to do anything you wanted. I grew up knowing that about you."

Aoko sniffled. "You make me sound like you."

Kaito's eyes gleamed. "No. It's exactly you. I'd know because it's what inspired me after my father died. You were there when I needed you, and now you need me to show you that no one in that room can change what you want. I know you love him, and be far from me to say it, he's a good man. He's not Hakuba, thankfully—" Aoko playfully swatted him. "—but he makes you smile. Adores you. He certainly doesn't let his bat of a mother get in the way of marrying you, so don't give up on him."

His dark hair ruffled in the chilly night air. A gentle breath escaped his lips as he felt Aoko's nimble fingers comb through the silky, disheveled mess, caressing the sides of his face in the process.

"Are you really asking me to marry another man?" she questioned.

"Yes," Kaito replied simply. "You love him, don't you? You can't marry me. Necrophilia is frowned on in most social circles."

He hissed when she tugged harshly on his hair. Somewhere in his mind, he wondered how he fell in love with such a violent woman.

"Oi, oi! What I'm trying to say is live your life, Aoko!" he said insistently. "Trust me, thinking of what could have been only takes away from what is and will be. I won't be here, but you'll see me again. But first, I want you to live your life!

"Have the career you always wanted! Go to movies, dances, travel, get a puppy." He grinned at the amusement in her eyes. "See your children. Your grandchildren. Your great-grandchildren." Aoko outright giggled. "You know what, add great-great-grandchildren to the list. I don't want you coming early and mucking up my kitchen with your bad cooking. Ouch! Geez!"

Kaito rubbed the side of his face where she had pinched him. But his grin broadened.

"Have it all. Have that mortal life with him." He reached up and brushed Aoko's damp hair back from her face. He pulled her toward him until their lips were tickled by the warmth of each others' breaths.

"Eh, I'll give him a lifetime with you. But all of eternity? I'm a thief, Aoko. Don't think I won't steal it. Every second of time. You'll have me forever."

Aoko shivered in his arms as his smooth lips softly nipped at hers before crashing into her with the force of a hurricane. Her lips were prized apart with a heady moan caused by the sudden wave of overwhelming passion that sparked from Kaito's desperate kiss. He tasted of spicy peppermint, completely enraptured with molding their lips together until Aoko thought her heart would explode.

It was electric, whatever magic this was between them. Illusion or not, from his lips to hers, she felt every feeling in his being that his poker face concealed. Joy. Sorrow. Regret. Need. Want. Love. Every ounce of it was unmistakable. The way he held her, his arms so strong and safe, the way he whispered her name when they parted for breath, the way the glistening blue of his eyes darkened when he pierced her gaze with his own…

Aoko felt her head spin, dazed with the feeling of utmost happiness.

"I love you, Nakamori Aoko," she heard him whispered. "I'll wait for you. I promise."

Aoko smiled up at him as fatigue finally settled into her body. The tension in her shoulders had eased and the weight in her chest had lightened, but at the cost of an entire week's worth of stress and sleeplessness to overwhelm her senses. The last image Aoko saw was that of the handsome phantom thief fading into the night.

Something shook at Aoko's shoulder. It was firm and brisk and utterly annoying.

"Go away," she slurred tiredly.

"Aoko! What happened? What are you doing on the ground?"

The sound of her father's voice prodded her to force her eyes apart. In a blurry daze, she recognized the dimly lit features of her father's face, worried and confused.

"Tou-san?" she asked groggily. "What are you talking about?"

Ginzo Nakamori sighed in relief when he realized his daughter had just been sleeping and not attacked in any way. "When you didn't come back, we split off to look for you," he explained, helping her to stand up. Apparently, she'd been lying on the lush grass in the middle of the garden beside the fountain. "Hideyoshi-kun gave his mother a piece of his mind for treating you like that. Good thing, too, or I would have."

"Hideyoshi-san did?" she yawned out before his words hit her.

Somewhere in the back of her weary mind, a tiny flicker of alarm shot her senses awake. That would have canceled the wedding for sure. She would know; she had inherited her father's sailor mouth.

Staring at her father, the muddled rush of memories surged to the surface.

She had been at the dinner and there had been arguments. In anger, she'd left to evade the oncoming meltdown and had found this place. She didn't remember collapsing at all. The thought of that young staff worker came to mind when she first arrived…

Followed by everything else.

Aoko's legs almost gave way beneath her. Her eyes searched desperately across the garden, but there was no one else in sight but her father. The fountain gurgled beside them, a cupid bearing a jar of water between two swans. Exhaustion must have taken over and she must have passed out.

Her heart cracked. Of course, it had only been a dream.

"Aoko? What's wrong?" Ginzo frowned at the devastation in his daughter's eyes. "If this is about Shiori-san, trust me, she won't interfere with the wedding anymore."

Aoko pressed her hands to her stiff, cold cheeks. She paused, realizing that instead of icy fingers, she discovered that her hands were warm, protected by larger, black gloves. Dumbfounded, her keen eyes traveled from her hands to her arms. Why was she wearing the hotel staff uniform jacket? Who had given this to her?

"Did you put these on me?" she asked her father.

Ginzo shook his head. "No, I found you like this. Now, if you're done gawking, we're going back inside before you get yourself sick… Aoko?"

But Ginzo was left to ponder what on earth was going on his daughter's head as she hastened to the stone railing, her eyes pealing for any hint, any sign that her heart hadn't been lying to her.

Lying at the base of the balusters was none other than a snowy white rose with a blue ribbon tied around its stem. Shivering beneath the warm jacket, Aoko lifted the flower with a delicate hand and staring wondering at the soft, white petals. Her fingers skimmed over the blue ribbon, the image of Kaito's nimble fingers sprouting it into existence before her very eyes.

A bead of a tear cropped up in the corner of her eye. Maybe it wasn't a dream, after all.

"He was here," Aoko whispered to herself, her heart hammering joyously.

Her father's calling voice was distance. The frigid night was warm and full of wonders. The moon gleamed down from above her, the only keeper to her most precious of secrets.

Live your life... Don't give up… You'll have me forever… I'll wait for you… I promise.

Each word was too precious to forget. Each one etched itself to her heart, a reminder that she had so much more to do. She looked back, one last time, at the stone baluster railing, before following her father back into the hotel.

He'd better keep his promise.

~M.K~

FURTHER NOTES:

At hand, I might be pushing it, starting a new series of one-shots, but I absolutely adore this pairing and when inspiration strikes, why fight it. The title of each chapter represents the song that inspired the overall chapter posted, so enjoy, everyone!

Reviews and criticisms are welcome.

—MELPOMENE-THE-TRAGIC-PARODY, signing out.