BLACK VENUS and RED MERCURY

DISCLAIMER: Detective Conan and Magic Kaito belong to Gosho Aoyama. I do not gain monetary value through this story. All I have done is borrow his characters and create this plot (with the help of inspiration).

I dedicate this work of fan-fiction to my loved ones who have not only kept me going over the years, but have enabled me to rise.

To all of the DCMK fans who read this, thank you and I hope this will be as grand an adventure for you as it is for me. Some of you may have a feeling of dé-jà vu when it comes to the initial start of this story. That is because this arrangement was inspired by JoIsBishMyoga and her DCMK fan-fiction Inconceivable. (Check her out!)

WARNINGS: Rated M for possible Blood, Drugs, Gore, Language, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Situations, and Torture. Some chapters may come with Trigger Warnings. (Also, possible spelling errors, grammatical errors, and usage of Japanese terminology AKA Fandom Language. Some scenes may make readers want to facepalm.) Proceed at your own risk.

TAGS: Cross-dressing, Gender Fluid, (possible) Hetero, Intersex, DC Movies Treated As Canon, (possible) Yaoi, and (possible) Yuri.

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CHAPTER ONE: BLACK CONFINEMENT

Disjointed thoughts filter in randomly through the darkness rotating gently behind his eyelids. The thoughts quickly cut off and are followed by a seemingly long period of nothingness before beginning again in a disorientating process that repeats itself several times. Eventually sensation breaks the pattern. It keeps him from drifting back to unconsciousness.

Ow.

His sore body is sprawled on a hard, flat surface. His left arm throbs; especially the shoulder and tricep from where it had been pinned behind his back in effort to restrain him. A mere ninety-five centimeters or not, Conan had kicked, flailed, and scratched at anything and everything once that arm clothed in all black yanked him up from behind.

Terror. Jilting, cold terror had rushed through him, breaking through the shock as soon as he caught sight of the dark color, and squeezed hard enough to take his breath away—had his captor not already done so. The ambush had caught him completely unaware (why hadn't he felt the presence of being watched?). More sensations quickly come to him.

His chest aches from where the man had restrained him (it was a man that grabbed him; he'd heard the deep grunts of effort over the panicked rushing of blood in his ears). A dull roar of a headache makes itself known, which is not a great combination when one's head feels like it is stuffed with cotton. Dry, abrasive concrete rests under his right cheek, and the distinct scent of bleach wafts in his nose. The area must have been cleaned recently. Re-purposed for this occasion, perhaps? To say it is uncomfortable to lay on is an understatement; especially with all the forming bruises.

Ayumi. . . Mitsuhiko. . .Genta. . .Haibara. . . . What happened to them? His eyelids flutter, and before he thinks better of it he opens them.

Darkness.

No matter how wide he opens his eyes, or how many times he blinks he cannot see. Fear ramps up another notch, making his heart beat faster and pushing away some of the fluff in his brain. He closes his slightly-open mouth in an attempt to swallow. His mouth and throat are dust dry, and he nearly coughs as the action makes his throat catch. He sucks on his tongue, trying for moisture. There is a funny yet familiar taste.

Chloroform. Nasty.

Now he remembers the handkerchief with its tell-tale smell against his nose and mouth. It had been futile to hold his breath, but he held out for as long as he could; committing every detail of the event to memory just in case he would live long enough to wake up.

In his peripherals he'd seen a white neck and brown mustache that almost formed a goatee, but the chin was clean-shaven. Not Gin, or Vodka, then. Heh, if Gin were behind this he'd be dead already. Could this kidnapping be the work of another operative who has figured out his true identity—like Irish?

No. Conan remembers now; the children went to Genta's shortly after school to play yet another Kamen Yaiba video game. Like him, Haibara had bowed out, claiming she'd promised the professor she'd have her chores completed by a certain time. (She probably wanted to read one of her fashion magazines. Conan had caught sight of a new one the day before.) Since their homes are located in the same direction from Teitan Elementary, Conan and Haibara had naturally set off together. It had been after they'd parted ways that Conan was grabbed. If his identity had been blown, then so to should have Haibara's. His captor would have went for both of them.

Unless. . .Haibara was captured after him, and is somewhere here within the pitch-blackness. But, still, why not have gone for both of them before they'd gotten so close to the professor's? Grabbing her from where she resides—where there is a witness—is messy. The Black Organization does not do messy.

Conan is probably their only target. For now, he'll assume his identity is still intact until evidence suggests otherwise. If this is another repeat like his encounter with Irish, then all he can hope is his captor has an agenda that differs from the Organization. He is still alive, so an operative with a different agenda is possible. Maybe they could come to an agreement—like between him and Vermouth. . . . If what they have could be considered an agreement.

Maybe Vermouth set this up. . .

Maybe the Black Organization are not the only evil-doers in the world who wear all black.

After approximately fifteen minutes and no sounds of life nearby, Conan decides to move. He may as well since if a night-vision camera is trained on him anyone monitoring the footage should be well-aware he is awake. Besides, staying sprawled in one position for so long on concrete is painful, even without heavy bruises. It does not take him long to discover his possessions are missing, including his glasses and school uniform. Someone dressed him in thin shorts and a thin, two-sizes too big t-shirt. He smiles bitterly as he fingers the shirt's too-loose collar, automatically noting the cotton fabric.

Darkness so absolute one cannot see. Personal possessions taken. A great psychological tactic to deprive and break down the spirit. A good way to establish control. Smart. Professional.

Not good. He cannot stop the mantra of 'It's Them!' from repeating in his head, though he shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe someone kidnapped him because of his connection to Detective Mouri. Regardless, the situation is not good.

Slowly, Conan stands, and wobbles; disoriented from both the aftereffects of the chloroform, and the darkness. Not a glow, or speck of light shines from any direction. It's the kind of darkness that seems to press against the eyes it is so absolute. Effectively blind, Conan stretches his arms out in front and begins to shuffle forward. It feels as if he is falling into a void, and almost immediately he loses balance and falls to his knees.

"Umf."

Ow. That stings. Bare knees on concrete are not a pleasant mix.

Feeling incredibly off-balance, he decides to crawl forward on his hands and knees, though his strained left arm protests. The chloroform shouldn't still be effecting him to this degree. Is lack of visual input throwing him off so badly? It takes a moment to understand his skewed sense of perception isn't just because of the inability to see; he is on a slight downgrade. It is roughly a meter before the tips of his fingers touch cold metal. The metal is pressed flat into the concrete floor, and is grated. Further inspection reveals it to be more than twice the size of his hand, and perfectly round. It must be a drain. What kind of room is he in? Most private residents in Japan do not have cellars. Such things as basements and cellars only get in the way with how often houses are knocked down and rebuilt. Could this room serve a specific purpose?

Needing to know more, Conan continues crawling forward, this time up the slight gradient. The room must be large as it takes a few minutes for his fingertips to brush a wall. More concrete. Getting closer, he presses a hand flat against the surface.

It's curved. Strange. Using the wall as leverage, Conan slowly stands once more. This time he doesn't wobble. Keeping the whole of his right arm in contact with the wall, he follows alongside it. Patting the wall with both hands offers no defining features (or pattern of cracks) to help catalog the room. Another technique to deprive him of control? Is that why the room is circular—so there are no corners to measure distance, nor curl up in for a semblance of protection? This kidnapping is looking less and less like it has anything to do with his association to the Sleeping Sleuth. The focus is Conan himself, which means no ransom, or negotiation for his safe return.

Without his glasses—more specifically the tracking device inside them—no one will be able to find him. Of course, no one was in the immediate vicinity when he was snatched, so likely there are no witnesses to draw from—his capture was efficiently quick and quiet. To top it off, it would have been all-too-easy to put his limp body in a duffle bag and walk nonchalantly back to a private vehicle somewhere. That means no clues. . .if anyone is even aware of his situation yet. Wait. Ran should know something is wrong. Enough time has passed for her to notice his absence, right? If he doesn't text, or call her, then he goes straight to the detective agency after school. Judging by the strength of its aftereffects and the pungent taste in his mouth, the chloroform should have had him out for several hours at least. Ran should be flustered by now, having already called the Shōnen Tantei-dan's parents and spoken with each of them.

Hope tries to blossom in his chest, but he ruthlessly squashes it down. Even if Kogoro-ojisan were a competent detective, there are not enough clues (i.e. none) for a trail. There isn't even a sign of a struggle at the abduction site because Conan had been walking on the sidewalk and not anywhere with dirt. Not even Heiji would stand a chance of finding him before his captors take action (chances are low that only one person is involved judging by the skillful abduction in correlation with this peculiar room '. . .it's Them, it's Them, it's Them. . .!'), regardless of it taking too long to travel from Osaka-fu to Beika-chō.

Conan takes a deep breath. You've done enough panicking. Keep your wits. The situation is bad, but to give in to fear is to give up. He continues exploring the curved wall. Several minutes later a couple of his fingers sink partially into a small hole. Conan stops to catalog it. The hole is too perfectly round for it not to have been made on purpose. It is about twenty centimeters above his head; only about four centimeters in diameter, and he can't feel how deep it is as his fingers do not come into contact with anything inside. Although, there is moisture. He pats the wall directly underneath. It's damp. He moves on, this time keeping careful track of his steps.

The only other distinguishing feature along the wall—within reach, anyway—is a large, metal rectangle set into the concrete. Judging by the dimensions, it is most likely a door; although, it has no knob. . .or hinges for that matter. Surely he isn't sealed into this room of concrete. . . What good would that do his captors?

Conan pauses, back at the location of the hole in the wall; fingers wedged within it as if to anchor himself to the site. The circumference of the room, or rather storage area, is approximately seventy-five meters. A sizable scale. (Why use such a large area for tiny him?) Now that he knows the measurements he can start investigating the interior. After an excruciatingly slow (and paranoia-inducing) exploration (sight is truly a blessing!), Conan only rediscovers the drain in the middle of the floor. He exhales somewhat shakily in partial relief, glad he truly is alone. He had more than half-expected hands to suddenly grab him, and had even held his breath to listen more than once as he'd thought he'd heard breathing behind him.

With nothing else to do, he shuffles back to the middle of the floor where the drain is located. He may be more knowledgeable of his surroundings, but not being able to see is off-setting, and makes it easy to lose track of where he is. He eases his sore body down and curls up beside the drain, facing toward the supposed door—which is more on the right than directly across from the hole. All he can do is wait with baited breath for the first sign from his captors. A drink of water would be amazing for the serious case of dry mouth he has, but he doubts he'll get any anytime soon. It wouldn't surprise him if deprivation of basic necessities ends up being part of the method of operation here—such is commonly used to deprive control, and his captors are determined to take away most if not all of his liberties.

As for why his captors are depriving him, Conan wishes his analytical mind would stop considering because none of the possible reasons bode well, and worrying will do absolutely no good.

)*(

The next day. . .

"K-KKAAAAIIITOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Ooh, I didn't know it was possible to shriek like that and still be intelligible, Aoko!" Kaito jeers with an infuriating smirk as he dances out of reach of first Aoko's fist, then her school satchel. Woo! She's pissed this time! He loses a bit of his smirk as her desk comes flying at him. A lurching side-step has the desk careening into the classroom's wall behind him. Aoko, radiating so much fury her long hair is nearly fluttering with it, reaches behind her for her chair. Their classmates are starting to worry for their personal safety.

"Ahoko! You're so mad over such a simple prank?!" If Kaito had known she would take it this poorly he would have been further away before initiating the setup—which was just a little device that had made her chair vibrate. Her knees jerking into the underside of her desk in surprised had brought her into contact with the objective (she'd have seen it if he'd put it in her seat to sit on). He hops atop a few desks, quickly putting distance between himself and his enraged best friend. Hopefully she'll think twice about throwing the chair with him this close to others. As she raises the chair over her head it's obvious she's too angry to be concerned. Immediately, Kaito changes direction and makes a bee-line onto Saguru's desk. May as well take advantage of this situation. The detective gazes up at him with a look that's partial disbelief, and all annoyance. Kaito spares a second to grin obnoxiously down at him, already preparing to leap out of harm's way.

"KUROBA KAITO! NAKAMORI AOKO! THAT IS ENOUGH! DO NOT DISTURB THE REST OF THE CLASS!" Konno-sensei barks.

Oops. While the teacher has long since given up on getting the pair to settle down, she will not tolerate the distraction of other students. Those nearby have already scrambled out of their seats to get out of the line-of-fire. Keiko is beginning to fidget nervously in her seat. Did Kaito really cross such a terrible boundary with his harmless prank this time? Flipping Aoko's skirt doesn't rile her up half this much! . . .Usually.

Girls have strange ideas on what's taboo! he thinks, half-confused, but amused nonetheless. "Ut!" He flips into a half twist off the desk, landing atop another as the chair flies—spinning, really. Aoko has a talent when it comes to throwing objects.

"Bhh!" Wide-eyed, Saguru slips down in his seat to avoid the large projectile and ends up mostly on the floor; allowing the chair to twirl harmlessly overhead and into the wall with a terrible clatter.

"Not bad, Hakuba, but more practice would do you good," Kaito remarks joyfully. Saguru pulls himself back into his seat and gives a pointed glare at the irksome prankster.

"REALLY, YOU TWO! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Konno-sensei's cheeks are starting to turn the same color as the frame of her glasses.

"Hai, hai!" Kaito appeases the teacher by making a break for the classroom door. Aoko's already running for it. Kaito barely gets there first, but it is enough of a lead that once out of the confines of the classroom his longer and faster stride takes him well out of her reach.

"Seriously?!" he yells over his shoulder at her, keeping one eye facing down the hall in front. "It was just a whoopee cushion!" A wonderful classic.

"YOU PICKED THE WRONG DAY TO PRANK AOKO WITH SUCH AN EMBARRASSING THING!" she yowls like a scalded cat. Kaito gulps as he faces forward and puts all his focus into running. 'Wrong day' translates to 'I'm on my #$ &%* period!'. Kaito plus Aoko plus hormonal surge equals pain if she's lucky enough to ever land a hit. . . .She won't stop with just one strike. She won't even be sorry until a few days later, even if he's limping.

A couple of rounded corners to get out of sight, a wire to pull a door closed (got to use just enough force to be heard or she'll know it's a false lead), a note, and a bar of chocolate later has Aoko giving up the chase with an exasperated huff and a grudging smile. In this section of their school a number of classrooms are vacant; courtesy of some remodeling scheduled for the near future. It's behind a door to one of these classrooms that Kaito watches as Aoko walks back the way they'd came, already tearing into her consolation prize of dark chocolate and mint. A very generous prize if one asks Kaito.

Getting so mad isn't good for your health, you know!

I guess you really are a girl if you're so up-tight about a

little noise. Course, that was a larger-than-normal

whoopee cushion. Hehe! Take this because I think you

need it. If you take it, though, you can't hit me later!

-Kaito

Soon Aoko is gone. Experience has him waiting a few minutes just to be sure. Satisfied with his mischief and followup good deed for the day, Kaito leaves the empty classroom and makes his way to the stairwell. May as well get some fresh air and let Aoko cool down before heading back. Since it's nearly September the summer heat is starting to give way to cooler temperatures. The day is slightly cool, the sun warm, and the breeze gentle atop Ekoda High's roof—a perfect late morning.

Kaito steps to the wire fence, his nose nearly touching the safety barrier as he gazes outward. He can see the school's track field. No one is currently using it. Familiar buildings and greenery are in the distance. It's peaceful. Suddenly, a nap seems like a fantastic idea. Sitting, he rolls languidly backward and props his feet onto the fence—the heels of his indoor shoes catching and holding in the large squares. His arms make a suitable pillow. He yawns once before drifting into an easy sleep. Why is it that he gets his best rest at school?

Some number of hours later an indeterminable noise catches his attention, rousing him instantly to full consciousness. By now he has changed position to lay comfortably on his side—facing the only entrance to the roof (it's habit now to guard his back). His senses go on alert, although his posture remains relaxed and his eyes closed. He can feel that he is no longer alone. Footsteps begin to approach. By the timing of the stride, and by how loud the footfalls are he automatically notes the person is alone, male, and tall.

"I would appreciate being excluded from your and Aoko-kun's disagreements," a familiar and rather pompous voice says. Kaito doesn't react. The footsteps stop about a meter away. "I know you are awake, Kuroba-kun." Kaito halfway opens one blue-violet orb to glare at the detective, and then gives a jaw-popping yawn.

"I'm suppose to be the annoying one?" Kaito says when he can, stretching, appearing miffed before gazing at the other and donning a half-grin. "I'm just making sure you're as physically quick as you seem to think your brain is."

"Oh?" the blond replies, not the least bit riled. "Why would you feel the need?" Sanguine eyes stare intently at Kaito, and a blond eyebrow rises. Kaito feels his partial grin wanting to slip. He knows what's coming next when that psychoanalyzing expression crosses Saguru's face. "Is more trouble than normal brewing behind the scenes of your heists?"

Kaito instantly locks on his poker face, keeping his expression carefully the same before giving the expected frown. "Shouldn't you know by now that I'm not Kaitou Kid?" Kaito says in an aggrieved tone as he sits up. Inside, his mind is racing. Since when has Saguru caught on to Kid's unseen battle? How deep has he already dug? Without understanding what he's touching on, he could make himself a target and be taken out before he is even aware of Them.

"DNA doesn't lie, Kuroba-kun; unlike you," Saguru replies evenly. Kaito's eyebrows twitch as he squints up at the detective.

"And yet, DNA is useless in the case of identical twins. You've had me handcuffed to you, and Kaitou Kid still showed up and completed his heist—which was totally cool; that is, Kid is cool; not being handcuffed to you—and yet you're fixated on me being Kid. Really, Hakuba? You need to get over your obsession," Kaito finishes with a snark.

Saguru considers Kaito silently for a moment, though he is obviously resolute in his belief that Kaito is Kid. "Are you saying you have an identical twin, and he is Kaitou Kid?"

Kaito grumbles and jumps to his feet. Saguru is taller than him, so he is still looking up as he stares angrily at the blond. "No. Jeez. I'm making sure you stay in shape. It's no fun when you're not moving, right? But, you need to watch that nose of yours—that chair almost got you, and there's more than just a chair in the classroom." For a couple of seconds Kaito drops his mask of anger and lets true concern show. It's so unexpected that Saguru's mouth drops open a fraction. Just as quickly, Kaito retreats back behind the mask of anger, and marches to the door. Let the nosy detective make of that statement what he will. He needs to be warned, and it's not like Kaito exactly admitted to anything.

Stay sharp, or you will be killed. Don't investigate further—

there is too much to start blind. Watch your back; you've already put yourself in danger.

At least, this is how Saguru is interpreting the cryptic entendre. However, even more astonishing than discovering Kid has a hidden agenda that involves bloodthirsty criminals. . .is Kid breaking cover to warn him. Just what is Kid involved in? How much danger is Kid. . .Kuroba. . .facing with his heists when even a mere hint of what is happening sub rosa has Kaitou Kid afraid for those becoming aware?

Does it tie in with Kid's true purpose—because only in the beginning when Saguru had solely the police case reports to go by (of the heists before Kid's eight years of silence, and of the heists that started again just last year) did he consider Kid may be stealing simply for the thrill of doing so. However, as standoffish as Kuroba tries to be toward Saguru, he has come to understand that Kid is much more than a kleptomaniac daredevil. Considering current events, perhaps soon he will interpret what drives his troublesome classmate, as well as what drove the previous Kaitou Kid (no way was Kaito old enough to be Kid eight plus years ago). For now he will stay quiet, keep an ear to the ground, and move carefully so as not to stumble into any crosshairs. Saguru wouldn't deserve to be called a detective if he let fear get in the way of unraveling a mystery.

Especially a mystery that harbors Kaitou Kid's deepest secrets—secrets so dangerous that even the flashy and attention-loving thief chooses to deal with them in seclusion.

It is well after Kaito has left that he gives a small, but warm smile in the direction of the roof's access door.

"No one gets hurt, right?"

)*(

Oddly flustered, Kaito leaves school a tad early; not that it will matter in a few minutes. The last class for the day would be over if he tried to make it. Saguru must have requested to leave class just to catch him alone, but why? What has tipped the annoying detective off? Sure, Kaito glimpsed a few new figures playing in the shadows of his last two heists, but they haven't made any threatening attempts. . .yet. Dodging Snake and his lackey's pop shots have gotten trickier since the arrival of the strangers, meaning they probably work with and relay information to Snake. But, why have they revealed their presence?—to him and a detective no less! It makes no sense.

If he'd been so inclined he could have cornered and confronted the newcomers. They'd given themselves away with either movement down museum corridors that served no tactical advantage—catching his eye; or making clicks or tapping sounds; or, strangely enough. . .alerting him by scent. Nothing with chemicals, but more like a heavy muskiness reminiscent of a zoo, but without the pungent smell of manure. Kaito's sense of smell has always been decent, but he never thought he'd be able to scent a person beyond a perfuse application of perfume. Who applies perfume that smells like animals, though? What are their code names—Horse and Rhinoceros? Heh!

It doesn't add up. Snake may not be the most skillful of agents, but why would he work alongside a group that is determined to make their target and outsiders aware of their involvement? It just doesn't make sense. Snake and the organization he works for have always been covert in their confrontations against Kaitou Kid; it is how they have eluded scrutiny even when attending such conspicuous events as Kid heists. Although, admittedly, Kaito purposely works to keep the Task Force safely occupied with traps and misdirection. (No one can be allowed to stumble onto organization operatives too soon. That would spell death for any investigator.) Why work alongside others willing to disregard secrecy? Now, Saguru is aware. It is only a matter of time before Nakamori-keibu and the Task Force also become aware. Ugh! If Nakamori-keibu discovers a dangerous group infringing on the Kaitou Kid heists it will be impossible to warn the headstrong inspector off. . . .It will be Kaito's fault if the worst happens, and Aoko is left without both her parents. Kaito wouldn't be able to bear that.

How to handle this frangible situation?

Kaitou Kid is strictly non-violent, but perhaps Kid needs to confront Snake in a most annoying, and loud fashion (what better way to handle delicate operations?) to remind the criminal (and the organization he works for) why it is a good idea to not draw attention. Perhaps the organization will stop using the not-so-discreet group, and then everything can go back to normal. Erm. . .perhaps normal isn't the most appropriate word for Kid heists. Normal is synonymous for boring, which Kaito never is thank you very much.

Before he makes it onto the sidewalk something cold seems to manifest over his left shoulder. It has him turning his head to regard it, and then for some reason his gaze is drawn to his classroom windows on the second floor. Two shivers race down his spine as—even from this distance—Akako's blood-red eyes pierce his. She mouths something before giving a severe frown.

"Caster meets his immortal half when the night is forced into its darkest point. After morning comes, the relief of noon will be nigh impossible. The twins will force night to come again, spiraling into a new dawn with Thanatos near. Armageddon waits eagerly behind one of two horizons. Be careful, Kuroba-kun."

Kaito hates it when she does that, and he makes sure she knows it by the flat stare he gives her in return. She simply walks out of sight of the window, leaving him to carry on about his business—which he would have been very happy to do without her warning. Stretching his arms over his head, Kaito strolls off the school's property with another yawn. Darn that Hakuba-no-yarō for waking him from his precious nap! Oh well, what's on today's agenda?

Usually any free time is swallowed by caring for or creating new equipment, studying languages and cultures, scouting, fitness training, vocal training, impersonation training (subconscious tells are incredibly difficult to curb!), cosmetics and clothing shopping (OH! mmts NaKano is having a special this afternoon and there is this really cute combo of leggings, sandal heels, and matching drawstring purse that Kaito wants), the list of things to do never ends. . . Kaito sighs. He'll need to go home and disguise himself as female if he wants to do some feminine shopping without drawing strange looks.

Since he's dressing up he may as well head over to Ekoda Konpa for dinner and a virgin cocktail; although, he's sure he could order the potent Ekoda-no-yoru if he wanted since he can easily disguise himself to look over twenty. His invented persona Kikuko Mei appears to be in her early twenties, and 'she' is already a well-known customer at Ekoda Konpa (as well as other local hot spots). Maybe Yurina Rumi will be there as usual, and she and 'Mei-chan' can entertain the regulars with some bar stool karaoke. It is such a fun way to unwind and train at the same time. Darn it. . .as much as he is trying not to think on Akako's warning (does thinking about it give it power?), his mind keeps turning it over on the back burner.

Okay, fine; he has nothing better to do while walking home. Thinking on it makes his expression sour, but whatever. Castor and his immortal half are easy—they are the Gemini twins of Greek lore Castor and Pollux. According to western astrology, Kaito's star sign is Gemini, so the warning is likely referring to him directly. Who is his immortal half? His alter ego? No, that doesn't seem right. For one thing he can't meet himself, and Kaitou Kid is not immortalized yet. Well, he's not immortalized around the world, but he sure does have a lasting place in the hearts of his officers in Division 2.

"Kekeke!" The silly laugh slips out, shifting his sour expression toward something brighter. That feels better. Negative emotions are so heavy and such a waste of energy.

Kaito, along with several others traveling on foot, make it to the crosswalk just as the light turns green to cross. Lady Luck does like to indulge him sometimes. He absently listens to the noise of the surrounding crowd as he continues to breakdown Akako's disturbing words. Where do her fortunes come from, anyway?

There isn't enough information to deduce who is represented by the immortal Pollux, so it's likely a person Kaito hasn't met yet. Although, for a stranger, it sounds as if this person (if it is a person) is closely connected to him. The immortal part couldn't possibly have anything to do with Pandora, could it? Odd. Regardless, he and this other have to be similar in some fashion to be characterized as twins.

A notion flashes in his eidetic memory, and like lightning it starts networking the information into a conclusion that makes his stomach drop. Rather than be struck dumb and still, his body switches to autopilot to keep himself walking normally, though his expression completely flat-lines. Please, please, let him be jumping to the wrong idea. Please, once he breaks it down properly, let the pieces fall into a prettier picture. Because if Akako's warning is referring to that person, then all hell is about to break loose. Why does the witch have to share her spooky magic mumbo-jumbo with him?

He shouldn't have read her lips. . . It was rather dumb of him to do so when he wants no part of her, or her red magic.

With a simple blink Kaito pushes the thought of the warning along with all the trepidation it inspires to the back of his mind. It has become a need to remain aware at all times, and the warning. . .premonition. . .is causing his thoughts to spin and him to lose too much focus of his surroundings to be comfortable. Luckily, his quaint two-story home is only a few blocks away, and soon enough he is stepping out of his shoes in the genkan and making his way upstairs to his room. It's only when he reaches his room does he remember the bookbag he left in the 2-B classroom. Fantastic. . .

High school does nothing to engage him, so it is no wonder how he forgot something as unimportant as his school supplies. However, Aoko will undoubtedly swing by to drop his bookbag off with a lecture. She will probably gripe about him leaving without her, too. Groaning, Kaito decides to take a quick shower (no more thinking of the witch's premonition!) before heading to the secret room to put his evening outfit together. 'Mei-chan' wants to have a good time and look 'her' best, and since it is almost autumn there is a combination in particular he wants to try. Of course, he'll have to wait until Aoko comes, and then leaves before changing.

Thankfully, Aoko drops by sooner rather than later.

"Bakaito!" she yells when he opens the front door, causing him to immediately stick both index fingers in his ears and grimace. "I know school isn't a challenge for you, but that doesn't give you the right to skip! You could have at least went back for your stuff instead of troubling Aoko with it!" She punctuates the end of her sentence by throwing his red bookbag at him. Kaito removes his fingers from his ears to catch it. The momentum has it hitting his stomach anyway, and it makes him cough. Yep, Aoko sure has a talent when it comes to throwing things.

"I didn't ask you to bring it, Ahoko," he huffs, moving the bookbag to one hand so he can take the other and rub his aching stomach (book corners are no joke). He turns, walking further into the house to give Aoko the opportunity to either come in, or leave. She is still carrying her school satchel so she hasn't been by her place yet. Even he isn't so rude as to run her off; whether he has a powerful hankering to go on a clothes shopping spree, or not.

"What are friends for, idiot?" she says at a more normal volume. He looks back at her and she smiles before sticking her tongue out at him. He smiles back and snorts.

"You coming in?" Blue eyes take in the fact that she isn't stepping inside and taking off her shoes. Aoko shakes her head.

"No. Aoko's in the mood to cook and there is a great recipe Aoko found online that Aoko wants to try; especially since tou-san called and said he may be home early. Want to come over for dinner?" Her tone is just the slightest bit hopeful. Kaito's smile fades, causing her own to follow suit as her gaze travels to the floor. She isn't surprised. For a while now Kaito has been doing his own thing in the evenings. He rarely comes over for breakfast, or dinner anymore. Aoko is actually starting to miss Kaito's complaints about her cooking.

"I have some shopping to do, and you know how long I can be when it comes to shopping. I think I'd rather eat something quick and simple when I'm done. But. . ." he says, and drapes his school bag over his right shoulder as he walks over to her. With a flourish of his left hand a Bluebell suddenly sprouts between his fingers, and her gaze is drawn to the lovely flower. ". . .save me some for breakfast?" He gives a hopeful smile that is all teeth.

Aoko sighs fondly and accepts the flower that symbolizes gratitude, drawing it toward her nose to catch the faintly sweet scent. As she does so, she looks up at Kaito, mulling his request over. It has to be one of those great mysteries of life how Kaito always has a flower that corresponds correctly with the moment on him somewhere, and it is always presented immaculately. How does the irksome prankster of an idiot manage to be (not that she'd admit it to anyone) an impressively suave magician when he wants to be? It should be against the laws of nature.

"Okay, but you better be sitting at the kitchen table by six-thirty sharp if you want to be fed." Her smile is a shark's grin.

"Uuwah! Evil!" Kaito shudders, looking suddenly haggard.

"You bet! Consider it your punishment for all you put Aoko through." Aoko turns her nose up as she leaves.

"B-but I gave you chocolate!" Kaito sputters, dropping his bookbag to run and catch himself in the doorway; watching as his best friend follows the worn grassy path to next-door.

"And Aoko didn't render you unconscious," she remarks without looking back.

"It was just a whoopee cushion!" he shouts, incredulous. The sharp glare she throws over her shoulder has Kaito backing out of the doorway, and meekly closing the door. Never mind. Women are invincible once a month, and right now Aoko is untouchable.

Once again in the secret room, Kaito looks at himself in the full-length mirror. A little latex goes a long way, and he's used just a few skin-tone pieces to round his jawline and give his face a softer appearance. Now it's time for the fun part—applying the makeup. First the primer, then powder foundation (liquid foundation is a HUGE no-no), and some concealer. A touch of highlighter, a dusting of blush, a swipe of light-gold across his lids, and a slightly orangish-gold blend underneath the outer edges of his lower lashes, a bit of eyeliner, and it's finished with shimmering pink lipstick (Fluttering Sighs, his favorite).

The techniques for applying makeup are nearly endless. He's chosen to brighten and draw attention to his eyes—the gold tones contrasting against his blue practically make them glow. His cheeks are more pronounced, while the contours of his nose are less noticeable, and his cupid's bow is more defined and his lips appear plumper. He smiles in satisfaction.

The young woman staring back at him is Kikuko Mei, and though he did not do much to change his appearance, the only evidence of Kuroba Kaito is his hair and boyish casual wear. That can be remedied easily! Kaito pulls on a hairnet, making sure all of his natural hair is tucked underneath. On the right side of the mirror stands a female mannequin displaying long, wavy brown hair and a gorgeous multicolored maxi dress. Earlier while waiting for Aoko he'd dyed the brown wig tips white, and created snake braids to follow the back of the crown, and flow down.

He lifts the dress up and unclips the strapless black lace bra from the mannequin's chest. The cups are already filled out with C-size saline inserts (saline feels more realistic than silicone. . .not that Kaito would allow someone to fondle him!) covered with skin-tone latex. The modified bra makes it a breeze to slip in and out of disguise in a hurry. It's better than having a fake bust glued on, and he doesn't have to sacrifice the realistic appearance if he uses just a touch of latex to blend the edges of the inserts to his chest. He does just that after stripping to his matching black lace panties, then he's slipping the ankle-length maxi dress over his head.

It settles perfectly over his shoulders as the bottom portion flutters passed his legs and comes to a stop. He gives a twirl just to feel the dress move before facing the mirror again. The top of the dress looks like a short-sleeve black top with a see-through collar and shoulder area shaped like large maple leaves. The bottom portion flows loosely and is made up of a silky golden skirt topped by a sheer fabric decorated with Foxglove flowers and a radiant green gradient. It's beautiful, even if it is only suppose to be casual.

Reaching for the mannequin again, he grabs the wig, adjusts it into position, and clips it through the hairnet and anchors it to his actual hair; reducing the chance that it'll be tugged or blown off. He looks back into the mirror and carefully fluffs the wig with his fingers. He arranges the fringe, and pulls the medium-length sides to lay in front of his shoulders while the long-length of the rest splays down his back. The snake braids look elegant, and the white tips add just enough flare. It's a fine line to balance bold color combinations and not become a human peacock, and he's managed to coordinate perfectly. Bright eyes look to the mannequin's feet.

Nestled between the plastic feet are white T-strap stilettos. Positioning them before his own feet, he expertly steps into and buckles them. Now only a few details and his transformation will be complete. Kaito sashays over the black-and-white checker tiles to the metal shelves close to the stairs where a large light-pink square case rests. Opening it reveals three trays full of acrylic nails and decorating accessories. He plucks the ten oval ones he'd polished earlier (a light-gold coated with a nearly opaque layer of shimmering dark green sparkles) from the dainty modeling hands one by one, and with a little nail glue and tiny brush, sticks them with quick precision to each of his own nails. This nail glue is a special concoction he made himself, so after only a minute he trusts that it's dry enough for him to grab his white clutch purse. Within it are a couple of simple silver drop earrings that he clips onto the lobes of his ears.

He gives one last check in the full-length mirror to make sure everything is in order. Taking one hand, he lifts his long hair and lets it fall in waves across his back. The dress seems to flutter around his ankles even without him moving. Satisfied, he takes a deep breath and reaches for Kikuko Mei's character. It isn't difficult—she is a lot like his normal self; although, rather than his crescent grin, what reflects back at him is Mei's zesty smile. She shines with the love for life and laughter.

"Oh! Can't forget that!" Kaito hustles back to the metal shelves and scoops up a small bottle of fragrance oil. It is easier to direct and lasts a lot longer than spray perfume, plus it is easy to get off if one knows how. He dabs some of the apple and clover scent behind both ears and along both wrists. Juicy, refreshing, and simple irresistible! Blue eyes shift to the analog clock on the wall. Not bad. He wasn't necessarily trying to hurry, and it only took him fifteen minutes to get ready.

"Mei is ready to go shopping!" He pumps his purse up and down in delight before heading up the stairs. Time to go and get a few new outfits while the discounts are on. Oh, yeah! Watch out shoppers because he's got the quickest hands and he'll snatch everything off hangers and run before the others can even squabble over who has dibs. He can scramble in stilettos just as easy as loafers.

Hours later after Kaito has bounced from department to department, squeeing and parading around the dressing rooms, he finally checks out with nine large bags and three small ones in tow. Admittedly, he went overboard, but who could possibly resist those cute hipster panties; or the bandeau bras; or the elegant, off-the-shoulder butterfly print chiffon top; or the white beach blouse with pom-pom trim; or the artsy dip hem batwing blouse; or black scalloped skinny pants; or the black ripped stretchy pants; or the blue boyfriend jeans; or all those fantastic boots and stilettos; or all those dazzling earrings? No one with a fashion sense, that's for sure. Ahh! Life is great.

Is it any wonder why Kaitou Kid disguises most often as women?

Except. . .maybe he should have gotten that floppy hat after all. He pauses, swaying with the weight of his purchases, debating whether of not to walk back in the store. The hats aren't on discount, and therefore are technically off-limits, but the one would match so well with the outfit he came for.

No! He succumbed to enough impulses in the store already; he won't spend all of his money.

Another couple of hours later, Kaito is seated at the bar counter in Ekoda Konpa with the floppy hat perched on his head and a couple more boxes inside bags nestled among the crowd of others at his feet. He sighs, managing to be only mildly regretful at how light his purse is now. Why didn't he limit himself by bringing a set amount of yen?

Pssh! Because he'd have regretted it more if he hadn't had the option to splurge. Every now and again it isn't bad to go all out.

"What's on the menu tonight, Mei-chan?" the bartender Ikeda asks as he comes near from the opposite side of the counter with a bowl of roasted edamame. A couple of raised straps from the plethora of bags catch his eye and he leans forward to see Kaito surrounded by his purchases. Ikeda gives a long whistle. "I know you're a classy girl, but are you going to be able to afford anything else tonight?" Kaito answers with a glaring pout. "Okay, sorry," the well-groomed man says with a chuckle, "what would you like?"

"Just a water with lemon," he answers in Mei's smooth and sweet contralto tones, staring resolutely down at the polished bar as his cheeks slowly begin to redden. It's embarrassing that he came and can't even order a proper drink, but he hates cooking. At least here he'll get a free snack and not burn anything and everything out of impatience. As expected, Ikeda laughs heartily. At least it's a slow night for Ekoda Konpa and not many people are around to witness his foolhardiness. He doesn't want 'Mei' to be thought of as asinine and high-maintenance. Thankfully most everyone is solely focused on what could be half a store at his feet.

"I knew it!" Ikeda boasts as he walks off. "I'll be right back." Kaito scowls, though he can only blame himself for being virtually broke. Ravenous, he digs into the bowl of edamame as he waits for his water. It feels good just to sit down before he heads back home. No matter how good his stamina, all those hours of shopping in stilettos were rough. Totally worth it for the leg and bun workout they gave, though. It's a great way to maintain an athletic shape and good fitness level without building too much muscle.

Stilettos aren't just for show, and they can also come in handy for other things; although, more often than not those 'other things' ruin the shoes, and Kaito will cry if he ever has to sacrifice another pair. How he misses his teal glitter stiletto knee-high boots. Those had fit like a glove, and looked amazing.

Tossing more edamame into his mouth, he absently glances around the cozy bar for Rumi. He'd noticed when walking in that she wasn't seated anywhere, and she usually sits at the counter. Maybe tonight is one of the nights she won't stop by. Perhaps he should be on his way as well. The smell of food cooking is almost too delicious to bear on an empty stomach, even with the free snack.

"Thank you, Ikeda-san," he says when the bartender returns moments later and slides over his drink with a straw already in it. After giving the lemon slice a firm squeeze, Kaito slurps down a quarter of the icy water. It's heavenly. "I won't be staying long."

"That's not like you. You're a social butterfly. Why are you depriving me of my entertainment tonight?" Ikeda asks with friendly curiosity.

Kaito's mind wonders to the mystery dinner Aoko made. No doubt the dinner has long since been served and put away.

"I have some business at home to attend to," he says airily before grabbing his stomach and attempting to strangle the growl before it can be heard. Unfortunately, there is no stopping the roar of starvation. Kaito yanks the floppy hat lower on his head as Ikeda laughs at him again.

"Important business, indeed," the bartender says.

"Shut up," Kaito mutters sourly.

"Now, now. Is that anyway to talk to someone who is cooking you dinner?"

"Eh?" Kaito peeks out from under the hat, looking equal parts bewildered and shamefully hopeful. "No way! I can't pay for it."

"Consider it my thanks for being so entertaining. Ever since you and Rumi-chan started coming here, our regulars have been happier and drop in more often."

"Huh. Sounds like Rumi-chan and I have been hired to work. I guess I'll trade laughs for food, then," he says happily.

Ikeda made him the biggest salad with all the works (fruits, veggies, cheeses, lintels and the perfect blend of seasonings) and the best batch of mouth-watering bread sticks. Kaito wasn't sure he could walk after such a feast, but he eventually got himself and his insane number of shopping bags home. Although, he almost fell asleep in the warm bath, which is a perfect way to end a shopping spree.

For the first time in weeks Kaito falls easily asleep in his bed; however, black figures with guns follow him in his dreams. A burned-out torch is always near his feet on the barren ground, and ever to his right is a void so dark it swallows all scraps of light. Something tugs on his pants leg. Kaito looks down to see his favorite critic, and nearly jumps because the faux-child is pallid and skeletal. The image is so disturbing that he has no trouble meeting Aoko at six-thirty. Thank goodness for Aoko. She's a wonderful distraction, even if he does get a saucepan to the face. Dream or not, something isn't right. He can feel it just as surely as when someone enters the same room as him. It's making him restless, and more obnoxious than usual. . .which Aoko does not appreciate first thing in the morning; as his squashed nose is painfully reminding him.

At least the soy-broth, stir-fried mushroom, and cabbage udon is good. When the image of a half-dead critic is mostly forgotten and his appetite returns, Kaito digs in heartily. Aoko is happy for the majority of the day afterward. . .until round neon stickers somehow mysteriously keep appearing stuck to random places on her. Then Kaito is again running for his life through Ekoda High when she finds a smiley face sticker on each of her butt cheeks.