Disclaimer: All characters from Meitantei/Detective Conan and Magic Kaito are the intellectual properties of sir Gosho Aoyama. Any Naruto related material are the intellectual properties of Masashi Kishimoto.
Author's Notes: So... hello again people! I guess you're wondering why I decided to butcher the whole premise of DC/MK in order to fit into a pseudo-Naruto-verse but I am going to blame plot bunnies, reading too much Naruto fanfiction and watching a heckload of Shippuden (bar fillers, that is). There are some interesting concepts and plotlines that I guess... I wish to explore. Hopefully, I could do this story some justice.
PS: For those people who do watch and follow Naruto or at least have a passing interest in it, feel free to suggest which Naruto characters reflect certain DCMK characters in your opinion. Also, I hope you could tell me which hidden village and Kage you prefer as Shinichi and Kaito's hometown and leader respectively.
Other than that, I hope you guys enjoy what this story is able to offer.
Word Count: 2, 880
Arashi no Me (Eye of the Storm)
Chapter 1
The night air still bore a crisp, chilly bite to it courtesy of winter seemingly overstaying its welcome and lingering on—or as the young man preferred to put it, trespassing—well into the first fortnight of spring.
Save for a stray cloud or two that occasionally drifted past his field of vision, the sky was almost a pristine canvas of navy. The moon which normally shone brightly against the matte expanse was nowhere to be seen. Tonight, the silver disc had fully donned its veil of midnight blue, hiding the radiance it reflected and allowing innumerable scattered pinpoints of light to finally take centre stage; each one of them caught up in their own eternal and jubilant waltz with their neighbours among the heavens.
The adolescent was currently resting his body against the cool wooden roof, wilfully ignoring the shingles that were slightly digging into the bony bits of his back. Having looked up to those celestial fireflies since he'd been orphaned at much too young an age, he'd found himself no stranger to the aforementioned sensation which, with time, had barely bothered him in the least.
The rooftop, eventually, had become his place of momentary solace. The stars ended up being his stoic yet ever present companions.
Even if he knew at the back of his mind that they were nothing more than inanimate spheres of hydrogen and of helium, they never left him during those times when he cried himself to sleep. They never faltered shining even as he went through the darkest days of his young life. Instead, they seemed to have taken on a brighter incandescence. It was as if they were urging him to keep going.
And so, he did. He desperately held on to life; never letting go of it despite the venomous remarks his own village had directed at him from every which way. In spite of the all too apparent fact of the being the village pariah, he continued to move forward. He even hoped against all hope that he would find himself accepted one day and be spared from the fate he had feared the most.
Looking back at it now, perhaps he ought to thank those stars after all. They had led him to wait for something; anything that would have made those earnest desires of his to come true.
However, when he finally did happen upon the answer to his prayers, it came as a huge shock to him that it was someone, rather than something.
Kaito.
Twice, he had promised to protect this kid. Twice did he also fail to do so.
He wasn't able to bring him back home safely the day the Rokudaime had informed him he and Keijirou weren't the only surviving members of the Kudo clan. He had been so eager to finally meet people who they could call family; so excited of the prospect of not having to watch his back for once that he ended up getting himself lost in his search instead.
He ran away when Chikage-bachan thanked him for his efforts, feeling betrayed and utterly useless even as she tried to cheer him up. Even then, Kaito's mother still asked him to keep his vow before he was able to get away from earshot.
During a time when the opportunity presented itself once more for him to stay true to his word, he was unable to save his cousin's mother due to his own cowardice. He had been so terrified of losing control of the fox sealed within him that he found himself rooted in place. When his body was finally able to move by his own volition, it had been already too late.
The scene that unfolded in front of his eyes had been awfully sickening. The distinct sound of raiton jutsus crackling through the air had already affected him. However, his knees almost buckled in and gave way when he heard the blood curdling sound of flesh sizzling and hissing upon contact with lightning. A few feet away from where he had been, his aunt's battered body laid limp against the ground; her blood strewn out into a pool of scarlet; drenching the sun scorched earth beneath her.
Her eyes were already starting to glaze over when they had wandered and locked with his own; recognition evident in her pallid features. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't break away from her pleading gaze. He couldn't turn around and just leave her behind.
'I won't forgive you—' she appeared to have said in between faltering and laboured gasps for air.
Upon hearing those words, his mind started its descent into chaos. With shame and panic permeating his every thought, he began to turn away. What started to be slow, mindless footsteps quickened in pace. He would have fully broken into a sprint if he hadn't managed to hear another word she had uttered.
'—unless…'
Such a faint sound it had been. Without the enhanced hearing he possessed—of origins he grudgingly knew about—he would have missed it altogether among the sea of concerned commotion.
Abruptly, he turned around, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. Without truly thinking it through, he drew himself closer to her—less than an arm's length away. Blue depths—leaning more towards a dark azure—met indigo ones once more. Regardless of the pain that they bore, there was an unmistakable softness to them that reminded him the beginnings of a smile.
No matter how wan it was, she did smile at him. And the warm comfort that her small smile held…it bore a stark contrast to the enveloping coldness of death that was looming over her.
He couldn't understand how a person could have been so selfless. Out of all the condemning reactions from Chikage-bachan that his mind had been forming, this was how she had chosen to spend her final moments—by consoling the brown-haired youth who had abandoned her only seconds ago.
'Gomenasai,' the boy had said hoarsely, as the warm tears he had been desperately trying holding back trickled down his cheeks.
His eyes had already begun to sting but never did he break eye contact from her again. Unceremoniously, he dropped down onto both of his knees, completely disregarding any possible reactions he may have elicited from other shinobi around him. His cargo pants were soon soaking up the ever growing pool of blood. His palms fared no better.
Furiously, he wiped away the tears with the back of his hands in a mildly successful attempt to clear his blurring vision. In response, she slowly shook her head. She weakly reached out with a bloodied hand and brushed it against his tear-stained cheek. Tears intermingled with blood, leaving his face marred by the viscous liquid.
Such an effort probably would have taken most of her remaining strength. The fact only made itself apparent when she mouthed another word—her last one directed at him—without having her wavering voice coming out of those pale lips.
Promise.
The string of words that had once caused him to run away and come back all suddenly settled into place. The woman's intended meaning finally made itself known to him. Suddenly, the memories of the things he'd said and the way he'd acted when little Kaito had gone missing five years ago had resurfaced and once again reached his consciousness.
~o-O-o~
'Mou, pull yourself together will you ba-chan,' his younger self had blurted out in order to try and calm a bleary eyed and hopelessly hysterical Chikage.
It didn't matter even if his voice had been cracking and squeaking out every other word back then. It had been an imperative he'd placed on his himself to calm down the distraught woman. He couldn't bear the thought of having the closest person he'd had to a family becoming sad.
'I'll definitely find him! I'll definitely save him! I'll protect him,' he'd once exclaimed, curling his small trembling hand into a determined fist.
'I promise that as the future Kage.'
~o-O-o~
'Sense— Ba-chan,' the adolescent began to say, the word coming out being barely above a whisper, 'I promise.'
As if an understanding had been reached between the two of them, Kaito's mother gave him a weak nod; her own coagulating blood smearing against and soiling her own cheek in the process. She blinked heavy lidded eyes once more before closing them for what would've been the final time; the smile that she bore earlier on having never left her delicate features.
'Ba-chan,' he remembered himself saying her name repeatedly, as if his voice could call her back from the other side.
'Don't leave, please! For Kaito's sake, don't leave,' he begged of her; trying to force down the lump that had formed in his throat and say something more.
He half expected for a reply of some sorts—a groan of acknowledgement from her would have sufficed—but nothing came his way. Her eyes never peeled open nor did her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm again. She was lying there stoic and unmoving; her body set in its helpless, prone position by the freezing nature of death.
After some time, everything around him—the explosions, the screams of ally and foe—had died down. The silence that had then followed left him feeling inexplicably empty. Not long after, characteristic chakra signatures flared up, heralding the arrival of medic-nin to take Kaito's mother away.
Throughout all this, he couldn't stop himself from crying; his heart painfully thrashing against his tightening chest. Tears laced with blood collected at his chin until they formed large droplets that dribbled off and ultimately stained his flak vest and the white shirt beneath.
His throat had already turned raw from coughing; dry from constantly breathing in the cold spring air in ragged gasps. His vision had by now become nothing more than a fuzzy composite of muted shades and hues; the shapes of the people around him and his surroundings becoming indeterminable from each other.
He'd never been good at dealing with a family member's death if his parents' passing away had served as any indication. But hearing a relative was never going to come back was an entirely different can of worms from actually seeing your own aunt's flame snuffed out of this plane of existence firsthand.
It shook him to the core.
Grief and anguish, he realised, were far more debilitating and immobilising than the fear he'd felt earlier. The physical pain he'd been experiencing until that point in time was soon replaced by numbness.
When a hand had given his shoulder a solid squeeze, he remained still. Even if he wanted to move, his muscles had already slackened from the emotional and physical strain stemming from what had happened. When a voice belonging to a male had told him how awfully sorry he was for what happened, he remained quiet. When the brunette had been told he shouldn't be so hard on himself and unforeseen things happen in wars, he remained alarmingly unresponsive and catatonic.
Even when strong arms had picked him off his knees, the adolescent made no visible signs of protest or retaliation. He had been far too drained for that. The last thing that he remembered was being led to what must have been a stretcher before his mind had lost its battle with oblivion.
After an indeterminable amount of time, he'd woken up to find himself inside the sterile, four-walled confines of a standard hospital room.
For a moment, he had felt disorientated. He was still heavily plagued by the trap his team had been caught in, his mind still processing the fact that he was no longer out on the battlefield. The pungent smell of alcohol and bleach filled his nostrils, only adding to his confusion. He was beginning to hyperventilate and frantically look around the room when the door that had been caging him in thankfully opened and a familiar voice managed to calm his fraying nerves.
'Shinichi-kun, it's alright. I'm here,' the current Kage hushed; rushing towards the trembling boy's side.
Without any warning, Shinichi had once thrown his weakened arms around Kisaki Eri's torso, the boy swiftly but gingerly placing his head between the older woman's neck and shoulder as tears began to freely flow down his face once more. Never having had any close physical contact with the Rokudaime, Shinichi expected the brunette to flinch from the hug. Instead, her delicate arms reassuringly wrap around his shoulders.
'What happened earlier… it wasn't your fault, you know,' the boy heard their village leader say.
'But it was. I was there ba-chan! I could've rushed to her. I could've pushed her out of the way. But I… I was so bloody scared. She died…because of me,' the teenager had managed to say between intermittent sobs. His voice had only gotten worse since that tragic morning.
'Shinichi-kun, listen to me,' the Rokudaime said, her voice becoming stern; demanding the boy's attention.
'I saw how serious you're injuries were. If Tomoaki-kun hadn't arrived in time, you'd be de… you wouldn't be here. And had you attempted something, chances are, there would be no village left to defend right now. Any sensor worth their salt would've felt the Kyuubi's chakra flooding into your system.'
'Wouldn't it have been better off if I died then? No one would love an unstable monster like me—' the boy said only to choke on his words; reflexively sending himself into a coughing fit.
'Don't you dare say that Kudo Shinichi,' the woman snapped. Her arms loosened their grip; allowing the boy to regain his breath. At the same time, a slender hand patted his back; never leaving it or stopping until the hacking coughs had diminished.
'Are you willing to just leave me behind like that? Darn it Shinichi-kun! Kami-sama knows how scared I was when word of the ambush got to me. I thought I was going to lose you.' The female Kage's voice had softened and Shinichi soon heard and felt her crying alongside him, the Rokudaime's chin resting against his messy mop of brown hair; dampening it as more time had passed by.
As it was, Shinichi would've continued in his reverie if it weren't for the fact that he'd heard wood noisily making contact against wood. Seconds later, he could detect the rhythmic creaking of someone ascending the ladder leading up to the roof. Realising that his eyes had become watery from reliving past events, he hastily wiped them with the sleeve of his cardigan and hoped the darkness concealed the redness.
'Ne, ne, nii-chan,' asked a sweet, tender voice he'd come to know and love.
'Yeah Kai-chan? I'm here,' he said, glad that his own voice wasn't cracking or betraying his recently relived past.
He turned his head just enough to see the kid's head poking out of the corner of the roof, a toothy grin painting his lips. Even in the dark, his cousin's eyes glimmered much like the stars that littered the night sky. He couldn't help but give a smile in return; a certain warmness suddenly beginning to spread across what had been his aching chest.
He had become one of his sanity's anchor points in a relatively crazy world; a living relic and mirror image of his own twin brother lost in the war. He was the reason he had to tame the Kyuubi no kitsune within himself. He was the reason he needed to become stronger and take the mantle of Kage.
Anything less than this would have been a lack of gratitude on his part, an act of dishonouring the sacrifices of their family. The boy didn't deserve any of the villagers' maltreatment reserved for him, the village jinchuuriki.
'Can we… can we go to the village square tomorrow? Please!?'
Shinichi quirked an eyebrow. 'How co—'
'Ahouko said tomorrow's gonna be super awesome 'coz there's gonna be lotsa an' lotsa ice cream an' ramen an' it's gonna rain sakura, yeah!'
'Rain? Saku—' he began to ask before realising the boy was most likely referring to the upcoming Hanami festival.
There was no way in hell he would allow his cousin's light to be dimmed. Not by the villagers. Certainly not by him, if he could help it. One broken soul in their family of two was enough for both of them.
'Alright, alright. I guess it can't be helped…' he relented.
'Oh yeah! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you~!' By now, his cousin had closed the distance between them, the boy's head finding a spot to rest on top of Shinichi's abdomen. The additional weight on his midsection felt oddly comforting.
'But… only if you promise not to skip the Academy tomorrow, ne, gaki?'
'Nii-chan,' the boy seemingly whined at his jest but otherwise remained still.
Not for the first time, a fleeting thought passed Shinichi's consciousness as he stared at the now pouting Kaito. If Keijirou had been alive to see how much of himself had bled through and taken over his older twin's personality, the idiot would have undoubtedly doubled over, rolled on the floor and laughed himself to stitches.
He himself could only chuckle.