A quick Kaitou Kid-Eisuke one-shot. Written on AIM for a friend.
It was a moonless night; the stars were barely visible because of the light emanating from the surrounding skyscrapers. I stood there in front of my mirror, wearing my favourite robe while I dried my hair. The pungent scent of my shampoo made me feel dizzy, but I didn't like going to bed with wet hair. I looked to the sky, pondering simple thoughts about nothing, when I heard loud crash.
My window had been shattered into little pieces, the kind of pieces that I could, and probably would, trip on. A figure was lying prone my floor; it was dressed in all white, with a cape draped over its body.
'You've got to be kidding me', I thought.
I crept cautiously over to the figure, clutching my robe tight with one hand. I touched the figure tentatively. I couldn't tell if it was still conscious, but I immediately felt sorry for it. It looked like a giant bird that had just broken its wing. I saw something shiny in its glove encased hand.
I might've investigated the fallen thing further, but at the sound of the toaster dinging, I left the room. I quickly retrieved and devoured my toast, then headed towards the bathroom to dress myself. Even though there was a mysterious person in my bedroom, I chose to ignore it for the time-being. When I had sufficiently covered myself, I braced myself for the awkward meeting that would more than likely ensue in my bedroom.
Prepared for the worst, I opened the door, silently setting foot into the room and hoping that the floorboards wouldn't creak. That I didn't instantaneously trip on a ball of lint upon entering the room was shocking, but the death-grip I had on the doorknob probably had something to do with that.
My unexpected guest was now collapsed on my bed, sheets ruffled beneath his hunched form. For some reason, I found myself aggravated by this, having just made my bed that morning. However, despite my irritation, my interest was roused, and I didn't say anything as I stared at him.
My eyes flickered from his face, hidden though it was by the tilt of his top-hat and a monocle, to his left leg; the sheets under it were dark and wet looking. It was then that I noticed the floor beneath the window. Blood was scattered amongst the pieces of glasses, splatters of scarlet mixed with the glittering fragments. Gawking at it soon made me feel a little woozy.
Who was he, and how did he get there? I wondered this, but as he was a guest, uninvited or otherwise, I decided I might as well lend him a hand. 'With that much blood', I thought, 'the injury must be bad'.
I ran down the hallway to the closet where I kept my medical supplies. Clutching some gauze, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a damp washcloth to my chest, I returned to my room.
I paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for all the blood. I noticed his eyes following my slow trek to his side, blue orbs that gleamed painfully from behind stray locks of dark brown hair and the shadow cast by the rim of his hat. Since he was obviously awake now, I opted to question him whilst I treated him, keeping my face averted from his.
"Where does it hurt?" I inquired, though with the blood staining his white pant leg and the mattress beneath it, the question seemed redundant. In the pervading silence, my voice was surprisingly loud and harsh.
He stared blankly at me, and then quickly shook his head, saying, "My left leg." His voiced cracked as his said it, though whether it was from pain or something else, I was unsure.
I rolled up his bloody white pant-leg. The fabric was smooth, and looked like it was really expensive. The pale skin beneath was smeared red; blood bubbled out of a deep puncture wound, oozing down his thigh and further staining my good sheets.
"Why are you here?" I asked, trying to make it seem like the answer didn't matter to me one way or another. In reality, curiosity was burning inside of me.
He gave me a look I couldn't interpret, and then replied offhandedly, "Oh, I was injured during a job and needed a quick escape. And, well… let's just say you presented me with the perfect window of opportunity." He chuckled slightly as he said it, and then winced as I used the washcloth to not-so-gently wipe away the blood around the wound. As I staunched the flow of blood he groaned, closing his eyes tight with his lips pursed.
"Job? What kind of job?" I asked, this time unable to keep the interest out of my voice.
"You could say that I'm a jeweler of sorts," he mumbled mysteriously with another faint smile. I almost stopped the treatment, giving him an apprehensive look as I remembered that I had seen something glittering in his hand. His only response to my obvious frustration at his veiled answers was a wider grin and a wink.
His comments were off-putting and I wished that he'd be more straightforward with his replies. But, as that was unlikely to happen given his current state, I got back to fixing him up. I poured some alcohol into the gaping abrasion, soaking up the excess with the already blood-drenched rag. I felt him flinch and he groaned again, hands reaching out as if to stop me from proceeding. I mumbled sympathetically as he forced himself to lay still, fists clenched against the unbearable agony.
Until now, I had tried to ignore how horrible the gash was, but the injury looked suspiciously like that of one caused by a bullet. Thankfully though, the wound wasn't very deep, and there was no sign of the shell in the gash.
"So, why were they shooting at you?" I blurted out suddenly.
He grimaced at me; eyes averted, he scratched the side of his face and anxiously straightened his hat. I figured he wasn't going to tell me, given his nervousness, but then he grudgingly, albeit vaguely, replied.
"Clearly, someone doesn't approve of me trying to do my job," he grumbled, almost indignantly.
I nodded, silently urging him to go on while trying to stay focused on the task at hand. I grabbed my trusty gauze, and began to wrap his leg, forcing him to elevate the injured limb as I did so.
"Tell me if it's too tight. I don't want to cut off circulation," I warned him. I tied it as tight I could, but he didn't protest, so I assumed it was good. Unfortunately, all his concentration now seemed to be focused on keeping his gasps of anguish to himself as his held his leg aloft, and no more information was forthcoming.
I carefully rolled his pant-leg down and swiftly rushed out of the room to return the materials to their rightful home. I returned to see him perched precariously on the windowsill, facing out into the night with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. He looked for all the world like a pure-white dove, about to take flight.
However, to me, he just looked like a moron about to kill himself for no apparent reason.
Panicking, waved my arms and yelled, "No, don't! You have so much to live for!" Though I had no idea if that was true or not, if he jumped now, not only would I feel bad, but he just wasted good medical supplies I could've used for myself.
He smirked at me, a breezing wiping his hair in front of his icy blue eyes. A slight exhilarated flush adorning his cheeks, he gingerly lowered himself back down. "I'm afraid I must take my leave. But don't worry, I'll be safe, thanks to you," he assured me.
Limping over to where I stood, my eyes wide and my heart-racing, he held my hands in his, lightly brushing his lips against my cheek. "Thank you, young lady," he whispered sweetly as he turned and faced the window again.
He pulled a string, and a hang glider appeared where his cape was. He then flew off, leaving me with my cheeks burning and my mouth open wide.
Seething, I clenched my jaw and ran to the window, calling after his receding form in the distance, "I'm a boy, you jackass!"
After calming down, I removed the bloody covers and replaced them with fresh, clean ones. I crawled into my bed, setting aside my glasses and burying my face into my soft pillow.
As I did so, I felt something under my pillow, hard and uncomfortable against my cheek. I slid my hand under it and pulled out the offending obstruction. I sat up, turning on the bedside light with my eyes wide as I stared at a large diamond. Setting it aside after gawking at it for a moment, I fished out something else from beneath my pillow. It was note.
Within it, the first thing I first spotted a grinning caricature of a face with a top-hat and a monocle. And above it, hastily scrawled though quite legible, was a message: "This is to repay the damages to your window. Kaitou Kid."