Rain
Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or Magic Kaitou. If I did, there would a BO member named Heineken.
The rain went on.
Her body, which had been exuberant and mope-swinging around just a few days ago, shrivelled against the dark mahogany casket, its shiny panels slick with raindrops. She hadn't cried during the service. She hadn't cried during the chaos at the emergency room. She hadn't cried when the man crumpled and fell. She filled out the flurries of forms and paperwork with a blank, almost eerily tranquil expression on her face. And now, minutes before the final goodbyes were bade and kisses laid, the tomb forever swallowed by the raw, brown earth, the girl had finally sank - deeply so - into an abyss of herself he was almost afraid to disturb the darkness. Her black dress clung to her withered limbs, her hair a crumpled mess pooling on her shoulders.
"Aoko," he called, venturing forward.
Practically everyone on the task force had come, wearing their solemn blue uniforms to honour the dedicated Inspector-keibu. Their brows were lowered, their chins tilted downward, eyes sympathetic but never meeting anything but of their own shoes. He felt something stir in his chest as his eyes swept over the wall of blue. He abandoned the refuge of the congregated umbrellas, his dress shoes sinking a bit into the softened grass as he approached the girl.
"Aoko," he called again. The priest was watching him, suppressed pity in his lidded eyes. He knelt by her side and gently lay a hand on her shoulder. It was still.
She wasn't crying.
And he knew. Regardless of any amount of coaxing or arm-tugging, he wasn't going to pry the girl away from her father. He couldn't. He wouldn't. One of her pallid cheeks was pressed against the dark wood, its surface shiny and polished - almost leeringly so. Her eyes blinked, unseeing.
He eased closer to her, enveloping her stiffened hands in his slender ones, gently lacing between the gaps and cradled her body against his, shielding her from the rain.
Ten minutes could've passed - or perhaps sixty. The sky wept on them, drenching most of his white shirt. He felt his dark locks dampen and plaster against his forehead and cheeks. Closing his eyes, he let time pass them by. The rain, which had stung and pecked at every inch of his exposed flesh, faded to a dull nip into the background. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. She was cold. And small.
"Kaito?" And then, seemingly from nowhere, so quiet that he almost thought he had imagine it, Aoko's voice trembled.
"Hm," He breathed.
He was right there.
Under him, he could feel her taut muscles loosen, bit by bit. She was trembling- whether from the cold or sadness, he couldn't tell. Her cheeks were streaked with either water or tears -
Or both.
"Kaito," she whispered. Their eyes met. There was no tremor in her voice this time.
"C'mon."
Tenderly he took her by her hands and helped her up. For a second her knees buckled and he thought she was going to fall, and he poised to catch her. But she hastily regained her balance and clutched at his arm instead. For a second her hand hesitated, her arms posed to retreat but her fingers longingly linger. Without even thinking about it, he reached over and took her by the hand again.
They walked back toward the crowd, where the sea of umbrellas await.
A/N: Just a side note - this is not a one-shot - more plot/story would be to come! Reviews are lovely and are the chocolate chips of a cookie!
