Heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor, murmurs arose and brought the room to life with whispering waves, and he watched from above the bright lights floating smoothly across the expanse of open air at the boy seated on his mother's lap.

The light shone on him and his parents - special people, his father had whispered to him when he tugged the edge of his coat - and he wondered how lonely it must be, being the only ones in the brilliant light while everyone else was shrouded from their view in a dark, soft light. A place where they couldn't reach, couldn't pass into. Instinctively, he wanted to talk, to learn of this special boy and his special family, and - perhaps, maybe - become a special person as well.

His father chuckled when he had told him, patting his head affectionately while he looked at him in the eyes, saying with all the confidence and love and truth in the world.

"You are special."

He didn't understand what his father meant - at least, completely and fully, as his father seemed to when he spoke those words with bright eyes and a proud smile - but he grinned, because he was special, was told so by his father (and his father was a great man, a special man, too).

So, when he turned back to look at the small boy and his family who were shining so radiantly in this place where there was only the dim lights and imperceptible people, he jumped onto the rail, his upper-body hanging precariously over the edge, and shouted (because, his child logic had reasoned, the small boy had small ears, so he'd have to speak up for him to hear) his enthusiastic greeting.

"Hi, Shorty!"

("He was feeling lonely without any other special kids to talk to," Kaito would later explain, quick and indignant, "so of course I had to do something about it!")

It was as though the very forces of the world had stopped in shock. The veiled guests below froze mid-step and stared, unblinking, into their partner's baffled eyes. Kuroba Kaito, son of Kuroba Toichi and his beloved wife Chikage, grinned, sunny and dazzling and oblivious to what he'd just done.

"Kaito," he heard his father call behind him, not at all flustered by his sudden burst of energy; his poker face was the best of the best, after all, "come down from there. You're disturbing the other guests."

He nodded, but hung on the rail for a moment longer, watching as the boy's mother spoke rapidly to him, a playful smile on her lips as she gestured to and fro, giggling behind her slim fingers. The boy's ears had, strangely, turned a strange color - pinkish-red, of all things - and Kaito wondered what kind of magic he had to learn to do that because that would be an amazing prank to play on Aoko when he saw her again.

Shoulders starting to ache, he let his feet return to the platform and stole a glance at the boy before he returned back to his father.

The boy was looking at him (straight at him, Kaito thought, amazed, through the dark blanket covering him and into his eyes) and he said something - mouthed it, but somehow, he still heard it even as the whispering waves rolled below him, as the heels clicked and slid across the tiled floor once more, as the wind resumed whistling its tune.

"Hello."