Look at that. A contest entry. For a Poirot Cafe competition. What a surprise! It's not like they're basically the only thing I'm writing nowadays, nope..oh well. Anyway, I loved doing this one. Interesting theme, challenging, fun .. and somewhat personal. Probably my favorite competition so far.
The theme is "Memory" and yeah - I hope you'll enjoy it. Have fun!
Constructs
The past is a construct of the mind. It blinds us. It fools us into believing it. But the heart wants to live in the present. Look there. You'll find your answer.
- Matthias (Total Recall)
It 's so hot, so so hot...he's burning .. no the room is burning. Flames and smoke everywhere, he can't breath, it's so hot … And the screams, the screams, so many screams, they're terrified, panicked. He's screaming too. "Oyaji" he screams. Oyaji, oyaji, oyaji .. and he can't see, the smoke is so thick and something warm runs down his face and over his eye, it's wet and warm, but everything is warm and hot … he's behind the stage and the curtains are burning and falling down, big cascades of fire and flames, he needs to get away before he gets buried under them.
But it's so hard to stay up, the wood is cracking under his shoes and he stumbles, he falls and the floor is so hot, it burns his hands and his face, but his oyaji is out there and he needs to get to him.
"Oyaji!" he screams again, but the smoke clogs his airways and all he manages is a hoarse whisper and he coughs so hard, it rattles his small body. The room is spinning around him, but he needs to find his oyaji. He's out on the stage now, crawling across the scorching hot wood, everything is burning and falling apart. A wooden beam crashes down behind him and for a second all he can do is look back at it in muted shock. It almost hit him – it almost hit him, he needs to get out of here. But not without his oyaji.
He has to be close, he was right in the middle of the stage when everything went up in flames.
His leg feels like it's on fire – maybe it is – it burns, it hurts, everything hurts. But he keeps going, he crawls and he ignores the pain, he ignores the flames.
Right .. here, somewhere... "Oyaji" he whispers again and uses his hands to feel around. There's so much smoke, he can't see anything .. there, there! His hand touches something. It's not wood.
It's soft, fabric, cloth .. his fingers trail further and they find soft, hot flesh.
It takes all his strength and willpower, but he crawls even closer, and it's almost impossible to stay awake. His whole body aches, the coughing is bad, it's really bad, everything hurts, but he found his oyaji, he found him.
And then he's close enough, he's close enough to see...
Kaito jerked up, panting and sweating and shaking and he barely had the mind to register the foul taste in his mouth when he leaned over the edge of the bed and emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor.
Still shaking, he stood up, fighting against the blackness around the edges of his vision, and staggered to the bathroom, where he sank down in front of the toilet, dry heaving and crying.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but finally he stopped retching and simply dropped his head to rest it on the toilet bowl, weakly using one hand to wipe his mouth. His throat was burning and he felt exhausted.
It had been a while since he had relived that night in so much detail, and it shook him to the core every time. He could still feel the flames licking at his arms and the revolting smell of burning flesh lingered after, making his stomach churn.
He closed his eyes, only to rip them open again when red and orange flames danced behind his eyelids. And the face .. he felt the bile rising again as the half burned face of his father engraved itself in his mind, yet again. He'd worked so hard to get rid of it, so he wouldn't have to see it every time he closed his eyes, and now it was just there again. He didn't want to see it.
It took immense amounts of willpower to push himself off the ground and for a moment, he just stood there, swaying back and forth slightly, darkness threatening to close in around him.
Then his body adjusted and he caught a glimpse of a ghastly, sweaty, scared face in the mirror. His face. Stumbling, he stepped closer, his hands gripping the rim of the sink so hard his knuckles stood out white. And he stared at the face in the mirror until it changed and morphed into someone else's and he could see flesh, bright red and blistering...
He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, fighting the crippling terror.
Breath in 1 2 3 4
Hold it 6 7
Breath out 8
Breath in. Hold it. Breath out. Breath in. Hold it. Breath out.
With every slow breath escaping from his mouth he felt calmer, more grounded. But he had to do it for almost ten minutes before he felt composed enough to face the world.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Cleaning up the mess he'd made, getting ready for school, fixing his poker face, flipping Aoko's skirt, pranking someone, annoying some teachers, running from Aoko, answering questions, smiling and laughing … he did it all and more, but it was mechanical, automatic. He was operating on auto pilot. And he was doing it so well that nobody even noticed.
xxx
It didn't get better. Days passed and the face was still there. It was everywhere. He'd look at someone and suddenly their features would start to shift and morph into the face of his dying father. He couldn't look at people anymore. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat.
And it was starting to become obvious. Aoko's pestering was more worried than annoyed nowadays and even Akako was concerned. She said so herself .. and he probably wouldn't have believed her otherwise. He still wasn't sure he believed her. Konno-sensei had held him back after school to ask him if he was alright.
Point being, his poker face was worth shit and he needed to get a grip on himself. If only he knew how.
"Kaito."
"Mhm?" he looked up, then noticed his mistake and turned his head sideways, preferring the view outside the window over Aoko's face. A face that might not be hers the next time he looked.
"School's over."
Damn it. He hadn't even noticed. He really was losing his touch.
"We're on cleaning duty." she said. And he sighed. Then mustered up something that kind of resembled a grin. Fake it 'till you make it – or something like that.
"Bet you that I can clean my half of the room faster than you yours?"
He caught a glimpse of Aoko's confused frown when he jumped up from his seat.
"What are you talking about?"
By the time she finished speaking, he'd already drawn a confetti line clear through the middle of the room, over tables and chairs, all the way from the blackboard to the back of the room.
"Bakaito! We have to clean that up now, you-"
"THIS-", he interrupted her loudly and pointed to the right side, "is my half. The other one's yours. The confetti stays until the end. And if I win..."
She ogled him suspiciously. "If you win what?" Then – and he really wondered what she had thought of – her face turned tomato red and she stemmed her hands on her hips and glared him down. "Nothing perverted, or I swear to God, I'll.."
And he almost choked on his own laugh. "What, Aoko, I didn't you know you had such a dirty mind-"
He moved so fast that he was right in her face before she even realized that he'd moved.
"Wanna tell me more about it?" he asked with an impish grin and watched her go from embarrassed to flustered to angry in a matter of seconds.
When he plopped down on the ground a few minutes later and out of breath, he couldn't help but burst out into laughter again.
Aoko sat down next to him. "What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing, it's nothing" he replied, shaking his head, but the laughs died down to quiet chuckles.
He couldn't tell her, really, but this had been exactly what he'd needed. Something to remind him of fun and laughter and joy. Nothing like a good old mop chase to drive out the nightmarish demons in his head. And it was only the classroom that had to suffer.
"Look at this mess." Aoko sighed and pushed herself off the ground. "Come on, or we'll never get this done."
This time, he complied. "But the bet is still on, yeah? And if I win, you won't complain about me flipping your skirt for two weeks. Like, not at all, not even a beep."
"I said nothing perverted!"
Cackling, he dodged the mop. "I do it anyway-" He actually hadn't done it today, he realized. Well, that had to be remedied.
"Pink with flowers, aww cuuuute, I like it." She was so easy to tease.
1, 2, duck.
"-so it's not a big deal, right? You just can't complain about it." Maybe that wasn't such a great idea. Complaining was half the fun. Then again, it would also be hilarious to see her get all flustered and annoyed just to have to hold it in. Yeah, never mind, great idea.
"Fine." Aoko huffed and stopped her futile attempts of trying to hit him, instead starting to sweep the floor. Kaito set to put the desks and chairs back where they belonged. He never really realized how much chaos they created. But the room truly looked like a hurricane had swept through.
"But if I win, you take me out for ice cream. For two weeks. Whenever I want to."
"That's so not fair! Money doesn't grow on trees, you know. Besides, you're gonna get fat if you eat that much ice cream." Not that he could blame her. Ice cream was great.
"You think I'm fat?" She glared at him and Kaito promptly rolled his eyes. Leave it to women to misunderstand everything you say.
"I didn't say that. I said you will get fat if you stuff yourself with ice cream."
"Look who's talking." Aoko huffed without looking at him and bend down to pick up a stray piece of paper.
Kaito couldn't help but stare for a moment, before he caught himself and looked away awkwardly, glad that she was facing away from him. Hell, if she knew he'd been looking at her..you know..he'd be very, very dead. Also, when did she even get one?
"What's that supposed to mean?" he resumed the conversation, hoping that she hadn't noticed the slight delay.
They continued their bantering until they came to a stop in front of Aoko's house.
"Soo..." Kaito started, though he wasn't really sure what he wanted to say.
Aoko looked at him expectantly, shuffling her feet while she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"...see you tomorrow?"
She cocked her head and gave him a look that kind of said "of course? Why are you even asking?"
Right. School. They walked to school together. Tomorrow, just like any other day.
"You're really out of it lately." she observed, looking at him as if she was waiting for a grand confession.
Kaito sighed. "I know, I know, sorry. Don't worry though. It's just this new magic trick that I'm having some trouble with."
"Right." Aoko answered, clearly not believing him. But she let it slide and waved goodbye. "See you tomorrow then. Don't be late."
"Me? Never! See you!" He returned the wave and waited until she was safely inside, before breaking into a jog. There was a heist that needed planning .. and dishes that needed cleaning.
xxx
He shot up, gasping, and for a moment he was completely disoriented. He could still smell the smoke, feel the heat, hear the screams. Then it dawned on him that it had just been a dream and his shoulders slumped down, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.
A look out of the window told him that the sun would be rising soon. It would be pointless to try and go back to sleep now anyway – he wouldn't be able to, not after...
Shaking his head to dispel the memories, he got out of bed and was just about to open the door when he heard voices, hushed and barely audible – but in the silence of the night, the quiet murmurs still stood out.
His body tensed and, after grabbing his card gun, he slid out into the hallway, carefully inching towards the stairs. The voices came from the kitchen, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.
Was it Snake and his men? Had they found him out? No, no, if it was them he'd probably be dead already. They wouldn't linger in the kitchen and chitchat. But who else could it be?
He made his way downstairs, moving swiftly and silently, carefully avoiding the steps that creaked, and crept up to the door leading to the kitchen, pressing himself flat against the wall.
Holding his breath he paused and waited. The conversation in the kitchen carried on. They hadn't noticed him.
"...don't know how he'll react."
He almost let out a laugh and allowed himself to relax. That was his mother's voice. And it was just like her to sneak into the house while he was sleeping, just so she could surprise him. But then he frowned as he registered her words. Was she talking about him? How would he react to what? And who was she talking to?
When the other person answered, the tension crept back into his body and he stiffed, staring blankly ahead, not noticing that he'd let out a small gasp.
"You're right. Maybe you should talk to him first, alone."
It couldn't be. Impossible. He knew that voice too. And it was absolutely impossible. It was the voice of a dead man.
He didn't even notice at first that the voices had become silent. Light footsteps and the door next to him opened, light suddenly flooding the hallway. His mother poked her head out and her eyes settled on him.
"Kaito..."
She didn't say anything else, but he pushed himself off the wall and met her eyes, slamming down a thousand masks. "What's going on?"
Chikage threw a look over her shoulder, then returned her gaze back to her son. She was pale and quiet, nothing at all like the chipper woman she usually was. And it was that, more than anything, that made it clear to Kaito that something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Mom?" he started softly, but stopped, not sure how to continue.
His mother let out a troubled sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. "It wasn't supposed to be like this.." she mumbled. Then she sighed again and smiled at him weakly. "There's someone … you need to see. But..Kaito-"
He cocked his head, waiting for her continue, while his thoughts were already running rampage, trying to figure out who the other person was. It was impossible, but he was always led to the same conclusion. But it was impossible.
"Try not to...overreact, okay? Hear us out. Please." She stressed the last word and shot him a pleading look. He nodded mutely, but he wasn't sure he could live up to that promise.
She returned the nod and held the door open for him. He walked inside, not knowing what to expect, and yet somehow he knew exactly what – or who – he would see.
The man sitting at the table looked up from his cup of tea and looked him over.
And it that moment he was sure he couldn't handle this. It was too much. He couldn't even begin to express the onslaught of emotions he felt when he saw that face. The face that he'd seen in a nightmare just minutes ago.
And there was this nagging voice at the forefront of his mind, telling him that it couldn't be, that it was impossible. There was another voice that whispered tales of magical stones that could grant immortality. And another one ranting about betrayal and hurt.
He just wanted them to shut up. He needed them to shut up. He couldn't think.
Turning to his mother, he raised one hand and pointed vaguely at the man. "Who is he?"
She looked hurt, sad. But it was just a question. Just a question.
"It's .. Kaito, it's your father." She stressed the last word and he knew why. Of course it was his father, why would he even ask? Couldn't he see that it was his father?
Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and silenced the voices in his head. He'd promised to hear them out.
"Explain." was all he said. His mother took a seat at the table, next to the man, and gestured at a free chair.
"Why don't you sit down?"
He gave another shake of his head. "Explain." Maybe it was rude, maybe it was unnecessary. But from the moment he stepped into the kitchen, he felt like his whole world had fallen apart. He lost control in a way he didn't even know was possible. Choosing to stand was a small choice, but it was one he could make, it was something he could control, something that made sense. He was fine standing, he didn't want to sit at a table with someone who might be his father, or an imposter, it made sense .. right?
For a moment, his mother looked like she would protest, but then she shook her head slightly and looked at the man. He met her eyes and Kaito looked on, watched the silent conversation .. and he couldn't place the weird feeling in his heart. Little stabs, as if someone was prickling it with tiny needles. So he willed himself to ignore it, for now at least.
He'd rather hear their explanation. The silence was stretching, it was thin and brimming with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, just waiting to burst through.
Finally, after what felt like long hours, his mother started to speak.
"I'll … I'll just get to the point, right?", she began, sounding unsure. He could tell by her expression that she didn't know how to do this. None of them did.
"Your father didn't die in the fire."
There, there it was. The truth that couldn't be. Yet it was staring him right in the face .. literally.
He felt the man's eyes on him, but he didn't look back, couldn't.
"How?" It seemed like one-worded sentences were all he was capable of right now. All the words lost, swirling around in his head like a tornado, bringing down walls and destroying his carefully crafted masks. None of them made it to the surface.
Again, the two adults shared one of those looks. One of those looks that people share when they're connected on a level that most people only dream of. When there's a bond that allows them to know. To just know.
And it was that look that threatened to smash the pitiful hope that it was just an imposter. Someone trying to mess with them. Because no imposter could share a look like that with his mother. Unless he was really good. Was it foolish to believe that? Was he grasping at straws? But a very good imposter was more realistic than someone coming back from the dead, right?
Still waiting for an explanation, he took a deep breath and slowly, ever so slowly brought his eyes from his mother to .. the man.
He stared at him, scanned every millimeter of his face, looking for anything amiss, something that would tell him that this man was not his father. His father who was supposed to be dead.
He thought it would be hard to look at him, thought it would tear him apart. But he didn't even feel like himself, he was detached, had removed himself from the scene. Now he was just a body looking at another body.
His mouth started to move on it's own, forming words. He heard himself talking, cold and void of emotion.
"I saw my father that night. He was right in the middle. There were only pieces of him left. Pieces. I crawled between those pieces, I saw them, I touched them. My father died. Who are you?"
The man met his eyes. And just like that he was back. Because he couldn't stand what he saw in those eyes. The pity, the sadness, the grief, the guilt, the shame. The understanding.
He didn't want to be understood. He wanted to be right.
"Kaito, you-" the man started, but he cut him off. He couldn't hold it in anymore.
"No. Don't call me that. You have no right to, you don't know me. I want to know who you are. I want to know what you're doing here, why you're trying to mess with us. Why are you doing this?"
The words broke out of him with fury, but he held a tight leash on his rage. It was there, it was noticeable, but it didn't consume him. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to... he didn't even know.
"I am your father. I know it's hard to believe but-"
"No! No, you can't be. Stop it! Stop whatever it is you're doing and just tell me the truth!"
He turned away, growling in frustration and raking his hands through his hair. Why couldn't they just tell him what was going on? How much did his mother know? Why would she fall for...
Spinning around he sought his mother's gaze and searched her face. His mother was not stupid. She wouldn't fall for an imposter, no matter how good. But his father died. It didn't make sense.
His eyes flickered back and forth between the two adults, searching for something. Chikage's face was an open book for him. She was begging him to let it go, to believe them, to accept this man as his father. But he couldn't read the man's expression. It was an impeccable poker face.
He walked out on them. It was too much.
xxx
...the brain abhors a vacuum. Under the best of observation conditions, the absolute best, we only detect, encode and store in our brain bits and pieces of the entire experience in front of us, and they're stored in different parts of the brain...
Sighing, Kaito paused the video and leaned back, absently rubbing his tired and bloodshot eyes.
Looking over to the window, he saw that the sun was already rising. He'd spent the entire night researching the mystery of false memories. It was the only thing he found that could explain why .. he remembered something that didn't happen.
Nothing else made sense.
And he didn't like it. At all.
He was absolutely sure that his memory was correct. His memory had always been great, it was inconceivable that it would fail him in such a horrendous way. But the longer he thought about it, the harder it got to really believe that.
In the past few hours, he'd thought more about the memory of that night, than he had in the nine years before. And every time he recalled it, he got more uncertain.
Was that really how it had happened? Did it even happen at all?
Groaning in frustration he stood up and went downstairs for a dose of caffeine. And the thoughts continued to whirl around in his mind while he prepared his coffee. Of course it happened. The building burned down. There were other people, records, files.
He could remember it so clearly, so vividly, down to the last detail. There was just no way it was wrong .. but wasn't that he whole crux of the matter? He got that much from his research. A false memory was just as detailed and vivid as a real one, it was practically impossible to distinguish between them.
So how was he supposed to know what was real and what was not?
In that moment, he felt tempted to literally bash his head against the fridge.
He didn't give in to that urge – he already had a headache, thank you very much – and instead went to his room again, taking a steaming mug of hot coffee and a chocolate bar with him.
With another heavy sigh, he sat down and unpaused the video. Tired as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he had sorted this out.
...so now, when it's important for us to be able to recall what it was that we experienced, we have an incomplete, we have a partial store, and what happens? Below awareness, with no requirement for any kind of motivated processing, the brain fills in information that was not there, not originally stored, from inference, from speculation, from sources of information that came to you, as the observer, after the observation...*
xxx
Days trickled by and Kaito refused to speak to either his mother or the man who pretended to be his father. Or was his father.
He honestly didn't know anymore. As it was, he immersed himself in the research, reading and watching and listening. He learned a lot about the brain, the human psyche and memory. But all the books, all the articles and lectures couldn't answer the one question that was eating him up from the inside.
Did he saw his father die on that fateful day nine years ago .. or not?
It was a week after he had talked to his mother and the man, that he decided to take a break. And he needed one, badly.
He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep during that week, and food had been an annoying necessity. That he had started to question every single one of his memories wasn't helping either.
So he slept, for almost a full day and the morning after, he went out to a small cafe near the Beika Museum.
He had announced a heist quite a while ago and now it proved to be a welcome distraction from this whole 'your father is alive'-mess. The only problem was that he'd completely forgotten about it, so now he had to make up for that. The next two days would be very busy.
And tantei-kun would surely be there, this was Beika after all. He grinned at that thought and, take-out coffee in hand, left the cafe to take a look around the museum.
It wasn't his first heist there and he already had all the blueprints and such – but they might have upgraded the security since then. As a respectable phantom thief, he always needed to be up-to-date.
Entering the museum as a regular visitor felt rather weird. But really, there was no reason to sneak in. He could wander around freely – well, sans the few parts of the building that he had to sneak into -, check out security measures and pretend to be interested in the art.
Which was peculiar. The museum housed a new collection of geometric metal constructs and sculptures. It would open tomorrow and, technically, he shouldn't even be in this room, but he needed to know what was inside and how to maneuver around the exhibition pieces, if it came to it.
Naturally, he would prefer to escape from the roof, and if everything went according to plan A, he wouldn't even go near this room .. but he hadn't come this far by being lazy and relying solely on plan A. Every possibility had to be considered.
The sculptures in this room looked rather boring to Kaito.
But when he bent down to read the description on one of the things, a plain, cone-shaped aluminum figure – while inconspicuously glancing around to see if they changed something about the cameras in this room -, he actually became a bit interested.
Apparently, some of the sculptures – including the one he was looking at - were a form of shadow play, and only in the dark and with the specifically positioned lights would they show their true form.
He lingered in the room for longer than was really necessary, but one of the pieces had caught his eye.
It was a fragile looking steel construction, standing tall in the middle of the room. He wasn't entirely sure why it held such a fascination over him – hollow cubes rising from a small plateau and stacking up in gravity defying ways were not that awe-inspiring. Well, it did look kind of cool, he admitted silently, but still...
Shaking his head, he tore his eyes away, and, after one last look around to make sure that he remembered every detail about this room, went to scout out the rest of the museum. No time to waste, only two days until the announced heist.
xxx
Flawless. Perfect. Two very fitting words for this evening's heist. Well, depending on your point of view that is. Some people would probably say: disastrous or catastrophic.
Kaito stood on the roof, counting in his head. It was only a matter of seconds now...
The door burst open and a young boy stumbled through. He regained his footing and came to a halt, gaze fixed on his rival.
"Good evening, tantei-kun. So glad you could join me."
The child huffed, before a triumphant grin spread slowly over his face.
"You won't get away this time, KID."
Kaito cocked his head to the side. "Is that so?"
And so they stood, grinning at each other, each of them convinced that they would leave as a winner.
Entertaining as it was, Kaito had other matters to attend to.
"A question, tantei-kun!" he called out on a whim, making sure to keep his voice level. Maybe his rival could help him where no one else could.
The miniature detective raised his eyebrows, face torn between curiosity and skepticism. It only took a few seconds for the curiosity to overpower everything else.
"What do I get out of it?"
Okay, so maybe the curiosity wasn't strong enough yet. But just a little nudge..
"You answer my question and I'll answer one of yours." Now that was a deal, wasn't it?
He watched his rival waver, could practically see the gears turning in his head. And he knew, he had won.
"Fine, what's the question?"
He couldn't help the small, triumphant smirk. A shame that detectives were so predictable. Always curious, always nosy, always an open book.
"Hypothetically speaking … say you had reason to believe that something you remember didn't quite happen like you remember it... how would you go about finding the truth?"
He voiced his question, then added as an afterthought "It's what you do, right .. finding the truth."
The child tilted his head and the moonlight reflected off his big glasses, obscuring his eyes, while he thought about the question.
"Hypothetically speaking..." he began slowly and turned his head to look past the phantom thief, crossing his arms behind his head. It was clear from his tone that he didn't believe for one second that this question was merely hypothetical.
"I would talk to other people that have memories of that event, if there were any. I would look for solid evidence and compare it to what I remember. I would examine my own memory, see if I can find anything that seems .. wrong or just off. Pay attention to the smallest details."
As expected from the logically structured mind.
Kaito was about to reply, but snapped his mouth shut when the detective continued. In an unnervingly soft voice.
"But .. KID .. I'm by no means an expert on the subject and, you know .. it might not be possible to say for sure. Just .. keep that in mind."
They both looked at the door to the roof when the pounding footsteps of the incoming taskforce were heard, then turned their heads back to face each other.
"Well, that's my cue. I appreciate your help, tantei-kun. Until next time!"
He was about to let himself fall off the roof, but the detective spoke up again, halting him in his actions.
"What about my question?" The soft tone was gone from his voice, replaced with something that clearly said 'don't mess with me'. It made him smile.
"Don't worry, honorable phantom thief that I am, I will not forget my part of the deal. But I never said when I would answer your question."
"KID."
Really, who knew growling kids could be so adorable? They weren't so adorable anymore when they pointed a tranquilizer gun at you, though.
"Now, now, tantei-kun. No need to point that thing at me. I come and go in peace - Catch!"
And he threw the prize of the evening, a beautiful diamond necklace, across the roof. It was a perfectly calculated toss – everything from the split-second of indecision to the distance a child could cross in that short amount of time was included in the equation – and he only stayed long enough to see the mini detective scamper over to where the necklace would land.
Then he threw himself off the roof and unfolded his wings, allowing the wind to catch him and carry him away.
He thought about what tantei-kun had said while he circled over the brightly illuminated city, and well, it made sense. He could've thought of it himself. He did, didn't he? But he'd needed to hear it from someone else as well, from someone who wasn't about to lose his mind and could think clearly.
At least he had a plan now. He needed to find eyewitnesses that were there that night .. and steal every file there was about it. Compare the evidence. Compare testimonies. Compare everything to everything and try to stay sane throughout all of it.
xxx
Lady Luck was not on his side today, it seemed. Kaito sighed and flopped down on a bench. The sun was setting and the park emptying at an accelerating rate. Soon there would be no one but him.
Damn it all.
There were 76 people that night, including himself and his father. 41 died in the explosion and the following fire, three more at the hospital and one gave his last breath on the way there.
More were injured, some critically, some minor. But they all lived. Two of them had died of old age since then.
Six more had died of all kinds of stuff – illness, accidents, even murder.
Two had left the country permanently.
Three were currently on vacation.
One sat on this bench right now and was questioning his sanity.
The remaining 17 were all alive and – for the most part – in Tokyo. He tracked down and spoke to 10 of them today.
Two boys his age who barely remembered the night. They said their parents got them out before the fire got out of control.
An old lady who suffered from Alzheimer's. She didn't remember anything.
The rest proved equally unhelpful. They all said the same things. They barely saw anything. The smoke was too thick. They were in a hurry to get out. They didn't pay attention. They weren't near the stage. They were too panicked.
He tried to stay optimistic. There were still seven left. Seven straws to cling to.
Leaning his head back, he let his eyes roam over the night sky. If only the stars held the answers to his questions .. he snorted at his own thought.
This whole thing was just completely crazy and he couldn't wrap his head around it, no matter how hard he tried. Every time he thought about it, he ended up running in circles.
He had that memory, a very detailed memory, in his head. It just didn't make sense.
Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow this would seem less insane. Not that he really believed that – he'd told himself that every night and when the sun rose again … everything was exactly the same.
No, not the same. Every day it made even less sense.
Letting out another sigh, he got up, surveying the sky one last time – looking for a sign, answers, a ray of hope .. he didn't know -, and made his way home.
When he arrived, he saw that the lights were on. And he prayed that it was only his mother .. he wasn't sure he could handle seeing that man again. Not before he knew what was going on.
That's when he saw them, through the window. They were dancing. Laughing. Having fun.
And he felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. Hard. Because he couldn't even remember the last time his mother had looked this happy, this carefree.
He remembered her smiles, the different smiles she wore for different occasions, and he knew she was generally a very cheerful person … but not like this.
Suddenly he was angry. Angry at this man who barged into their lives, pretending to be someone he wasn't, turning everything on its head, messing everything up, fooling his mother, trying to replace the one man that Kaito loved. How dare he...
And just like that, his anger deflated. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, but how could he be angry at someone who made his mother happy?
He turned away from the scene and opted to enter his bedroom through the window.
Once inside, he took off his shoes and jacket and went over to the life-sized portrait of his father, looking up at it with mixed feelings.
"Oyaji .. it can't be, right? I don't know what to do … I don't know what to believe. If I can't trust myself anymore..." He trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence. And suddenly he felt silly. Talking to a portrait of his father, when his real, living father was downstairs.
Denial was quick to butt in and squelch that thought. Whoever that man downstairs was, he wasn't his father. He couldn't be and that was the end of that.
He turned around and flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Laughter floated up to his room and he rolled over and hid his head under the pillow. It was childish.
And he felt like a child. Not knowing what was going on, not knowing what to do, not understanding. Feeling helpless and insecure. Needing someone to guide him. But there was no one who could guide him through this, was there? He'd have to figure it out on his own. Maybe he should talk to them again. Give it another shot. After all, he didn't hear the whole story .. because he stormed out like a sulky child.
Tomorrow … tomorrow he'd talk to them. Tonight, he'd curl up and listen to the voices, to the laughter that seeped into his mind like a bittersweet poison. It reminded him of home, of family, of the things he had, but lost .. and of the things he could have again.
xxx
Tomorrow came like any other day, with a rising sun and chirping birds. He woke up and just lay in his bed, listening to the sounds of an early morning. Clattering in the kitchen, birds outside his window, a car passing by on the street. The sound of his parents talking. Not his mother, no, his parents. Something he'd thought he'd never hear again. He turned around and faced the wall, tears slowly slipping out of his eyes.
He could have this every day, if he wanted to, if he accepted the truth. What they told him was the truth.
Why was it so hard? Why couldn't he just … let it be? Let the past go and take another shot at having a family. When he was younger, that's all he wanted. For a long time after the fire, he'd imagine his dad coming home. He'd imagine learning new magic tricks from him and assisting with his shows .. eating dinner together, going to the park. Every time he heard the front door opening, a tiny bubble of hope would rise up in him .. just to burst when he realized that it was only his mother. That it would only ever be his mother.
Eventually, he stopped imagining. He grew up, he accepted that his father was gone and that he would never come back. It was a hard truth to accept, but he didn't have a choice.
Now he had a choice and he didn't know what to do with it. Everything in him screamed to believe it, to believe his father was alive, that they could be a family again. But there was this unrelenting part of him that couldn't. It refused to see reason, it continued to replay the memory of that night for him, as if trying to convince him that that was the ultimate truth.
He slowly sat up. There was only way to convince that unbelieving part of him. He needed to hear the whole story.
When he got downstairs, he went straight to the kitchen, expecting to find both his parents. To his surprise, only his father was there, sitting at the table with a cup of tea.
Part of his mind frowned at himself, asking when he'd started to call this man his father and another part talked without thinking. "Where's mom?"
Toichi looked up, looking a bit startled, as if he'd been deep in thought.
"She went out for groceries. According to her, there is no decent food in the house and she wonders how you even survive on your own."
Kaito opened his mouth for a reply, the words already at the tip of his tongue – I eat at Aoko's a lot - , when it struck him and he closed it shut. He was here, in the kitchen, talking to his father. It felt like a dream. Like it should be a dream. Like it couldn't possibly be real. But it was, wasn't it?
His father beckoned him to sit down and he did, still feeling dumbstruck. He was here. Talking to his father. His oyaji.
Toichi filled another cup with tea and set it down in front of him. His fingers curled around the handleless cup absently, but the spell was broken. He remembered why he came downstairs.
"I just don't understand. What .. what happened that night?" Kaito asked quietly, averting his gaze and studying the green ceramic under his fingers.
Toichi took a deep breath. "They tried to kill me." He didn't clarify who they were, but Kaito had a pretty good guess.
"I knew it was only a matter of time before they found out my real identity, and I knew they'd come for me. But I .. I underestimated them. I thought it would take them longer and .. I didn't think they would try to kill me so openly .. it was a bold move." Toichi cleared his throat and waited for him to say something. Kaito gestured with his hand for him to continue.
"Anyway … it was stupid. I let my guard down and they almost... I'm so sorry Kaito, if I'd known that they were about to make a move, I would have canceled the show and gone into hiding. I would have done everything to keep you and your mother safe. It's my fault for being careless."
Kaito met his father's eyes. A part of him desperately wanted to say "No, it wasn't your fault. If you want to blame someone, blame those monsters." - but another, bigger, part was still angry, still skeptic. That part of him agreed and was happy that his father blamed himself.
He didn't let anything show on his face though and repeated his hand gesture. He wanted to hear the rest of the story.
"That night, they set a trap. It was so meticulously planned, they thought everything through – except one thing. They couldn't have known. I wanted to perform a new trick that I'd practiced with Jii. And only with him. But he got sick that evening, it was very sudden, a high fever … so I had to call in another assistant, that wasn't familiar with the new trick and we agreed on a different routine. The man you saw on the stage … it must have been him. He was right in the middle when … when the bomb went off. I should have been in his place .. but I wasn't."
A thick and uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Kaito was suddenly very interested in the loose thread that dangled from the sleeve of his shirt. It made sense .. it made so much sense. Except for one thing.
"But, I saw his face. Your face. Why...?" he trailed off, simultaneously anticipating and dreading the answer.
Toichi let out a quiet sigh. "I don't know. That's the one question I can't answer. It was dark, you couldn't see much through the smoke and you were terrified. Maybe..."
Kaito brought his gaze from the loose thread back to his father. It was painful just to look at that face. But he needed to know.
"Maybe what?" he inquired, glad to hear that his voice stayed level. He could feel his poker face slipping, it was only a matter of time.
"Maybe you imagined it or .. maybe it helped you to see a familiar face in there. So your mind .. supplied you with one.."
And that was it. The last straw.
"Helped me? Helped me!" The words came out louder than he intended and he stood up, toppling over his chair in the process, and turned away. A hysterical laugh was stuck in his throat, along with a barrage of curse words and nine years worth of tears.
He whipped around, facing his father. And seeing his calm and collected posture didn't help. How could he stay so composed, how did this not drive him insane?
"You think-" Kaito cut himself off, drawing quick breaths. He tried to count, to breath, but it didn't work. There was just so much inside of him that just wanted to get out. So he let it.
"You think it helped me? To see you die? To see my father lying there with his legs blown off and half his face melted away? You really think … you really think that helped me?"
He thumped his hands on the table, tea cups rattling and spilling over, and stared at his father, chest heaving with heavy breaths. The anger was so overwhelming. Helped him. That must have been the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in his entire life.
"Kaito-" Toichi sighed, "that's not how I meant it, and you know that. Please, sit down, let's talk about this."
Blatantly ignoring his father's request he turned away once more, raking both hands through his hair while he stared at the wall. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. I missed you. How could you do this to me? I worshiped you. You left us, you betrayed us. I adored you. I hate you. I love you.
The most confusing part was that, no matter how contradicting his thoughts were, he felt that they were all true. But how could he hate someone that he loved? How could he resent the man that taught him card tricks when he was five, that tucked him into bed and told him stories about magic?
How could he forgive someone who had left him behind for...yes, for what exactly?
He turned around, slowly, forming the question in his mind and carefully masking his confusion behind a cool and collected demeanor. It was a thin layer.
"Why? Why did you leave, why didn't you tell us that you were alive?"
When his father didn't answer, he pressed further. "Why?" He searched the man's face for an answer, for a reaction, for the slightest sign of emotion. He never knew how infuriating a poker face could be.
"Dammit! Answer me! Why- WHY?"
He didn't even think about what he was doing – suddenly he was on the other side of the table, grabbing his father and dragging him out of the chair. Pushing him against the wall.
His father made no move to resist, to defend himself. The tension in his shoulders was the only sign of unease that he allowed to show.
"Why did you do this to us?"
He watched carefully. Toichi averted his eyes, opened his mouth … closed it again. Opened it. Closed it.
Kaito raised one hand, ready to deliver a punch right to his father's head, but he hesitated.
And that moment of doubt was all it took for his anger to deflate. His fist landed on his father's chest without force, a mockery of a punch. Then his other hand joined and he bowed his head. When he asked again, he swore himself that it would be the last time. If he didn't get an answer now .. then he'd let it be. He couldn't do this anymore.
"Oyaji.. please. Why?" He could feel the tear slipping out of his right eye, could feel it trailing over his cheek, his jaw and he watched it as it fell down and landed on the floor, in the small space between them. Focusing on that single tear drop was all he could do to survive the agonizing moment of silence.
He waited.
When there was no answer after a minute, he nodded to himself and drew back. Slowly, despite everything still hoping that his father would speak up.
He'd barely moved when a hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up in surprise. His father was crying. He'd never seen his father cry.
"I'm sorry, Kaito, I'm sorry. I never meant- I never meant for things to go this far. I'm sorry."
There was a lump stuck in his throat and it hurt, it physically hurt to push out the words. "Then why? Why did you leave us?"
"I panicked. And I thought … I thought you were dead. When .. someone dragged me out, but before that I know that I saw you on the stage, just before everything .. collapsed. It's .. it's a miracle you're alive..."
Kaito stared at his father in muted shock. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He thought his father died. His father thought he died. And all this time, they'd both been alive.
He laughed. He didn't mean to, didn't want to, but the laughter spilled out of him regardless, and he let go of his father, stepping back. This wasn't funny. He shouldn't be laughing.
"So- so you left mom alone? To grief two deaths?" He forced the words out between bursts of laughter, hating himself for his ridiculously inappropriate reaction. But as he voiced his question, a thought slipped into his mind that successfully smothered his laughing.
"She .. didn't know, did she? Did she know you were alive this whole time?"
His father shook his head and a wave of relief washed over him, followed by a pang of guilt. It would have been easier for his mother if she'd known, but if she'd known and kept it from him...
"She thought I was dead. I .. left, because I thought it would be safer for her. The only reason I became KID was to keep her safe, and for a while .. it was working. Until it wasn't anymore. KID should have never existed, but he did, and they knew who was behind the mask. And they thought I died in the fire ... it was … an opportunity and I took it. I can't say I'm proud of what I've done or that I don't regret things. I always wondered what would have happened, had I acted differently... but it's no use to dwell on what if's ... it's the past, it's done."
They fell silent after that, both lost in their own thoughts. Kaito slowly walked around the table and picked up his chair from the ground, sitting down again and staring at the drops of spilled of tea on the table.
It was all so insane. But deep inside, he felt calmer now than he had in a long time. Something inside of him had righted itself, a missing piece was back in it's place. It felt good.
He looked up up when he heard his father move and waited until he too was back in his chair, before speaking. There were still a few questions he wanted answers to.
"How long has mom known?" He had a feeling he knew. He just wanted confirmation.
"I met her in Las Vegas. It was .. quite accidental, and she wasn't supposed to see behind my mask, but … you know how your mother can be." Toichi smiled and Kaito found himself smiling in return. It was easy. As if they'd been doing this for years, sitting and talking.
The next question, he voiced more carefully.
"If you think that … KID was a mistake .. why did you leave the job to me?"
"What?"
His father looked confused. "I didn't... didn't you listen to the tape?"
Frowning, he shook his head. "It was broken. I tried to repair it, but I couldn't."
Toichi sighed.
"I'm sorry. I should have thought of something better. I left the tape there in case .. something happened to me. But it was only to explain the truth to you and to tell you not to become KID. I never meant for you..." he trailed off and shook his head.
They lapsed into silence again. He still had questions. But maybe … not now.
"I'm glad you're back. I missed you."
"So am I … and I missed you too, both of you."
His father smiled and then grinned a classic KID grin. "How do you feel about setting up a little surprise for your mother?"
"Does it involve confetti and glitter and everything sparkly that's absolutely not her style?"
"Definitely."
"Then I'm in."
As they rummaged through the hidden room, looking for suitable props, he couldn't stop smiling.
This was it. This was great. He could get used to this. He wanted to get used to it.
And he would, eventually.
*Scott Fraser - Why eyewitnesses get it wrong (TED Talk)
So, yup, that's it. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading, and reviews would be very much appreciated. Have a good day everyone!