Summary: A mysterious letter, a damsel in distress, a cheeky doppelganger, and an innocent keychain … what exactly do all these things have in common? Why, the Annual Tokyo Policemen's Charity Ball, of course!
Timeline/Spoilers: This story is set anytime during the Detective Conan and the Magic Kaito series. It is suitable for readers who are familiar with the characters of both series.
Disclaimer: Gosho Aoyama owns Detective Conan, Magic Kaito, and any related characters. I only own this plotline.
Author's Notes: This is likely the second-most clichéd story I will ever write (the first would be In the Nick of Time, if I ever get around to finishing it). In celebration of my champagne birthday today, I'm posting this up for all of you. Special thanks to my awesome new beta reader Elaienar for making sure I don't sound stupid.
"If you haven't found something strange during the day, it hasn't been much of a day."
-- John A. Wheeler
The Red Carpet Treatment
A Detective Conan / Magic Kaito fanfic by isadorathegreat
First Quarter: The Letter
For Hattori Heiji, it started during breakfast.
He was mechanically stuffing himself with food, mind numb from the lack of sleep.
It had been a long night.
He had come home late because of a homicide that occurred on his train. Heiji knew he hadn't had quite so many cases before he met Kudou, and had a pet theory that the pseudo-boy's dead body curse was contagious to other detectives. Regardless, he had revealed the murderer, caught a ride in a police car, and stayed up even later to study for the evil, evil math test the next day. And now he'd had to wake up early to get to kendo practice.
Life was so unfair.
Except for the shadows under Heiji's eyes and his silence, the scene in the Hattoris' kitchen was quite normal. The windows were thrown wide open to let in the morning breeze and the newspaper was placed on the table, ready to be read. His father was, as usual, already gone, but his mother was there, sorting through the mail. Even the slight crease in her forehead as she read through another bill was nothing strange.
That's why Heiji noticed right away when his mother stopped to look at a specific piece of mail, her face puzzled.
"What is it?" he asked, looking up from his bowl of miso soup.
"I think it's for you," she said mildly, placing the letter in front of him.
He picked it up, intrigued. Heiji didn't normally get mail. Most of what they got was addressed to his father, typically as bills, letters from friends and associates, and the occasional official-looking envelope with 'URGENT' stamped on the front.
This envelope, however, was of the white, non-descript, office quality kind. His name and address was neatly printed in hiragana on the front, and the handwriting looked maddeningly familiar, but Heiji was unable to place it with anyone in his memory. The postmark partially overlapping the stamp showed it had been mailed two days ago. Heiji flipped it over and saw there was no name or return address on the back.
It made him uneasy, but at least it wasn't big enough to be a letter bomb. The slim envelope had some weight, but no more than that of a small sheaf of papers.
As Heiji sat and scrutinized the letter, trying to think of anyone who might have sent it to him, Hattori Shizuka reminded him that he was going to be late for practice. He glanced up at the clock and realized it was time to put the mysterious letter aside. He slipped the envelope into his school bag, said goodbye, and promptly forgot all about it until later that day, when it fell out.
"What's that?" asked Kazuha. The lunch period had just begun and Heiji was stuffing his notes and books into his bag. He looked down to see the letter lying innocently on the floor.
"Mine," he said briefly. He stooped down to pick it up. "Got it this morning while I was eating. I have no idea who it's from." Heiji tucked it into his back pocket, picked up his bento, and left the classroom with Kazuha trailing behind him.
"So, why didn't you open it?" she probed.
"I was going to be late, so I didn't have time. Besides, I want to eat first. I'm starving!" he finished, unnecessarily.
Together, they got around the students crowding the hallways and out a side door.
The school grounds were very appealing as a lunch spot at the time. It was one of the warmer spring days, with the occasional cloud drifting through a soft blue sky. The grass was lush with new growth and the young leaves on the trees and bushes provided shade if needed. Dandelions bloomed sparsely across the expanse of green, multiplying as they reached a creek bordering the edge of the grounds.
They claimed a spot under an old maple tree and unpacked the homemade bentos they brought to school. Neither of them liked to battle the lines at the cafeteria, preferring to pack their own lunches and avoid the hassle.
Heiji only had time that day to hastily make some plain onigiri, but Kazuha had leftovers of some delicious-looking unagi. Darting out with his chopsticks, he stole a piece and popped it into his mouth before she realized what was happening. Heiji playfully warded off any advances Kazuha made toward his own bento as retaliation, and ate the rest of his meagre lunch.
It was only when they both wrapped up their empty bentos that his thoughts returned to the letter. Heiji took it out and eyed it warily. After a moment of hesitation and Kazuha's prodding, he ripped open the seal and removed its contents.
He stared. "What the …"
Kazuha immediately leaned over, trying to get a better look at the papers in his hand. "What? What is it?"
" … 'You are cordially invited to the Annual Tokyo Policemen's Charity Ball, held in Tokyo's Imperial Hotel on Sunday, May 18th, 2008, beginning at 7 p.m. The proceeds will be distributed among local charities, including - '"
"Are you serious?" Kazuha snatched the invitations from him. "And there're two! Heiji, you have to let me come with you! Ran-chan managed to get an invitation and she told me that they always go all out! Please?"
Heiji didn't pay any attention to her pleading.
If Nee-chan had an invitation, it was likely that her father and Kudou had one as well. They lived in the same house, after all. He knew Mouri Kogoro was a former police detective - which was probably how they got the invitations in the first place - but there really was no reason for anyone to send him an invitation, let alone two.
Sure, he was a famous high-school detective and his dad was a chief police commissioner, but they both lived in Osaka, for crying out loud!
It also bothered him that these types of invitations were notoriously hard to get unless one had connections or money, which meant the unknown sender had one or both. This person also hadn't written his - or her - name, which meant he - or she - wanted to stay unknown.
And he knew he had seen that handwriting somewhere, but he couldn't remember at all, which was disturbing in itself. Normally, Heiji had a very good memory, especially for things such as different kinds of handwriting.
While he brooded, Heiji almost missed Kazuha separating a third paper from the ones in her hand.
"What's this - Ah! Stop stealing things from me!" she yelled. Heiji ignored her again as he scanned the new paper. His stomach suddenly became very heavy as he read:
Tantei-han,
I hope you and your lady friend will join me at the ball. I'm sure we'll have a lovely time.
Heiji's eyes narrowed. The note was unsigned and in the same writing as the address on the envelope, and though at first glance it seemed useless, Heiji found a very revealing bit of information.
Whoever this guy was, he knew about Kazuha.
"Heiji? Are you alright?" Heiji's eyes snapped up and he met Kazuha's questioning gaze with suppressed agitation. Silently, he handed he the note and watched her eyebrows go up.
"Well, it is strange, but I don't see what you're worried about. If someone wants us to go to the ball, we should go," she said, flippantly.
Heiji gaped at her.
" … Kazuha, do you have any idea what could happen to us if this guy turns out to be total nutcase?"
"Oh, Heiji," she began, strands of age-old wisdom seeming to weave into the tapestry of her voice. "You're paranoid. You're acting as if a stranger sending us invitations to someplace fancy means that he - or she - is going to try and kill us or something."
"Ahou, that's because people who do that usually are," he retorted.
"Honestly, what's going to happen? There're always celebrities at these sorts of events, so there's probably going to be loads of security. Not to mention it's a policemen's ball. At least half the guests are going to be police officers. There's no way anyone can pull anything off under so many noses," Kazuha stated, logically.
The heavy feeling lifted. She had a point.
" … Okay," agreed Heiji. "We'll go - but!" he continued as he saw Kazuha's eyes light up. "If anything weird or dangerous happens, I want you out of there, okay? I'm not taking any chances. With my luck, you'll probably get in my way if I end up trying to catch this guy."
"Ahou," she spat back. Then her mood did a one-eighty, something Heiji still wasn't quite used to, even after all these years. Her expression turned to one of joyous contemplation. "I can't wait to call Ran-chan! She'll be so excited!"
And that was how, two days later, Hattori Heiji found himself in front of an enormous hotel in the heart of Tokyo.
The entrance was just as sleek and impressive as the Imperial Hotel in Osaka and Heiji stubbornly thought his city's was better. The gold-tinted stone pillars and archways were lit by lights installed in the overhang above the front doors. Set above the doors, which were the automatic kind that slid apart smoothly as you got close, were large, metal English letters which spelled out the words 'IMPERIAL HOTEL'. Several limousines were lined up in the parkway at the front of the hotel and crowds of reporters, paparazzi, television crews, spectators, security guards, and well-dressed guests milled about.
Feeling slightly shabby, Heiji turned around to pay the cab driver his fare while Kazuha climbed out of the back of the taxi. She had skipped school on Saturday to shop for a new dress, and even he had to admit that Kazuha looked good in the little green number, with the skirt flaring out just above her knees and a sash wrapped tightly around her waist. She tapped a matching high-heeled shoe impatiently as Heiji scouted the area for anyone suspicious.
"Nothing's going to happen," she ground out. "Let's go, already."
When Toyoma Kazuha adopted that tone of voice, even Heiji knew better than to disobey. He let Kazuha drag him forward through the throng of people, their progress halted only once, when a burly-looking doorman in black and white asked what their business was. After flashing him their invitations, they were allowed in.
The Imperial Hotel's lobby was even more luxurious than its entrance. More gold-tinted pillars were evenly spaced out in the hall. A wooden stand with large bouquet of white flowers was situated in front of the grand, red-carpeted staircase. The front desk was placed on the right side of the staircase, and was manned by two prim-looking, middle-aged men. The room was large and furnished here and there with chairs, couches, more flowers, and the occasional hotel luggage cart. Every hard surface seemed to glisten in the light.
Here, more employees in white-and-black uniforms walked about and mingled with the guests as they went about their work. Kazuha stopped one and asked where the ball was being held.
"The Peacock Room," the woman told them, brushing her dark hair away from her face. She pointed to a set of doors to the far left of the lobby, where a line of people had gathered. "It's the only ballroom we have that can hold that many people."
Kazuha thanked her and they went on. They waited a good ten minutes before they got to the half-opened doors. Through the gap, they caught a glimpse of chandeliers, tables of hors d'oeuvres, statues made of ice, even more flowers, glittering outfits, sparkling glasses, cloth covered tables and chairs, and more uniforms. The sound of live jazz music and conversation trickled through and the smell of good food wafted under their noses.
On either side of the doorway was a uniformed man who checked the authenticity of the invitations. The one in front of Kazuha and Heiji wasn't much older than them and Heiji wondered how he had ended up working in such a prestigious hotel.
"Okay, you're all set. Enjoy yourselves!" He grinned at them in a way Heiji found slightly disturbing, but Kazuha paid it no mind and walked in. Heiji stopped and glanced back at the man, who was already checking over the next invitation, until Kazuha grabbed his hand and pulled him along.
"Honestly, Heiji! You're like a little kid!" she huffed.
'Speaking of little kids…,' he thought. Heiji remembered that Kudou should be here too. He talked to him on the phone and confirmed that Kudou had received an invitation as well. Heiji also told him about the circumstances surrounding his invitations.
His eyes searched the room until he spotted the back of a tiny blue jacket in front of one of the hors d'oeuvres tables. His smirk probably looked quite predatory as he noticed that the little boy was completely engrossed in the treats he was eating.
Heiji snuck away from Kazuha and slowly - cautiously - quietly crept up behind the boy, not letting his presence be known until his hand dropped heavily onto that small shoulder.
Edogawa Conan, formerly known as Kudou Shin'ichi, broke away from his grip and spun around with such a look of panic on his face that Heiji started laughing.
"Hattori! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he hissed, clearly not finding the situation as funny as Heiji did.
"I'm sorry, it's just … I never thought anyone but Nee-chan could ruffle your feathers like that, Kudou!" With that, he burst into a fresh round of snickers as the former high-school student flushed.
"I told you not to call me that," Kudou reminded him. "More importantly, what are you wearing?"
Heiji glanced down at his worn running shoes, blue jeans, black t-shirt, and sports jacket. His usual outfit was never complete without his signature White Sox baseball cap tucking all but a few strands of his dark hair away. It looked especially strange among the glossy suits and shimmering dresses of the other guests.
"The invitation did say 'Black Tie Optional' and there's no way I'm running around in a monkey suit if there's a potential psycho here," Heiji drawled, waving the invitation in the would-be teen's face.
Kudou snatched from his hands. "I don't think they meant that optional," he grumbled.
Heiji shrugged.
"For god's sake, Heiji!"
Both detectives turned to see Kazuha barrelling towards them. Heiji groaned inwardly, wondering what he had done in a previous life to deserve her.
"I can't believe this! I turn around for one second and you disappear! I - Oh, hello Conan-kun! It's good to see you again." She smiled brightly down at Kudou and Heiji was once again reminded of her bipolar tendencies. "You haven't seen Ran-chan, have you?"
"Yeah!" he chirped, startling Heiji. "Ran-neechan was trying to drag Oji-san away from the bar down there!"
"I - I see," she said uncertainly. "Um, anyway … hurry up, Heiji! And keep up this time!"
Kazuha quickly disappeared into the crowd and the two boys followed at a more sedate pace.
"You know, it's kind of creepy how you do that. It's like you've got a split personality or something," Heiji commented, trying to keep a straight face.
Kudou shrugged. "Probably my mom's genes finally showing through. Can't say it hasn't been helpful."
Heiji nodded thoughtfully. It did make sense. Kudou took more after his father than his mother, so something of the former actress was bound to show up in him eventually. It would also explain why Kudou liked to make such a big production when he was laying out his solution to a case.
Of course, Heiji wasn't really one to talk, but he blamed it all on his mother too.
The pair spotted the little group of Kazuha, Suzuki Sonoko, Mouri Ran, and her father, Mouri Kogoro, by the well-stocked bar in the corner of the ballroom. There was also another man there, just as drunk as the Sleeping Kogoro and twice as loud. Heiji recognized him as Inspector Nakamori Ginzo, the guy who had chased after Kaitou Kid for more than two decades, and yet had only accomplished the ability to swear at the thief in new, more creative ways.
The next few hours passed in a blur. He and Kudou spent time looking out for any trouble that might occur, both equally aware of the strange way in which Heiji got his invitations. They also listened to Nakamori's recounting of various Kaitou Kid capers (for some reason, the inspector had decided to forego the traditional 'heist' label that night). He had even included some that had never made it to the papers.
As always, Nee-chan was upset over her father's drunkenness, so Heiji had asked her for a few dances. It had the double benefit of cheering her up and making Kudou jealous.
Seriously, the guy was just too easy to tease.
Heiji even had a dance with Kazuha, although it was rather awkward and had so much toe-stepping (really, when did Kazuha's feet get so big?) that it just ended up in a fight where they kept calling each other 'ahou'.
He and Kudou were on another patrol through the ballroom when Heiji spotted something very weird.
"Hey, isn't that Nee-chan?" he asked, pointing to a swaying couple in the middle of the dance floor. Kudou slowed down and turned to get a look.
At first glance, the girl did look remarkably like Nee-chan, but Heiji knew that they had only left her behind a few minutes ago with their group. And she certainly wasn't wearing a blue dress then, just a strapless red one that had probably caused Kudou's nose to bleed the first time he saw the short hem. This girl's hair was a little shorter and noticeably messier than Nee-chan's, and she didn't seem quite as tall, though he couldn't be sure at that distance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kudou slowly shaking his head.
"No, that's not Ran. Actually, I think that's Inspector Nakamori's daughter, Nakamori Aoko."
"Huh?" Heiji had a hard time matching the girl's cherubic features with the inspector's gruff exterior. He whistled. "Well, she didn't get her looks from her dad, that's for sure. You met her before?"
"No, but, before you got here, the inspector let it slip that Ran was the spitting image of her. I wasn't sure how accurate the description was, considering he was already drunk at the time. I guess I got my answer," Kudou chuckled.
As they watched, the two dance partners twisted around, and Heiji and Kudou got a good look at Nakamori Aoko's dance partner.
Both of them turned white.
"There's no way …," Heiji breathed, eyes darting to his friend and back to the boy dancing with Nakamori Aoko.
Kudou was struck dumb. Heiji didn't blame him. What they were seeing wasn't possible. Dancing with the inspector's daughter was … was …
"Shin'ichi?"
The two detectives stiffened. With identical, mute horror, they turned to see the shocked face of Mouri Ran.
TO BE CONTINUED