Notes: Alas, I do not own Magic Kaito, nor Kaitou Kid/Kuroba Kaito. le sigh They all belong to Gosho Aoyama. Secondly, there's quite a few things that are left open in this story, I know, as it was done intentionally for connecting stories (No one who knows Kid's dilemmas with the Grey Ops and such shouldn't be too lost, I'd like to think). This was done for the seventh theme on the LJ community thirteenfears, Thanatophobia; Fear of Dying/Death the end is near. Enjoy!
Wind rushed into his face forcefully as the phantom thief sprinted against it down the mostly empty sidewalk. His cape flapped wildly behind him and nearly flew in the wind at one hundred and eighty degrees. The nose piece of his monocle dug into his face when it did not feel as though it would be ripped from his face at any moment. Regardless, he found himself too busy constantly reaching to his hat when he felt the wind start to take it away. He could not afford to chase after it now should it be carried off. The slapping of his dress shoes on the concrete echoed down the street and people far ahead looked to see the white-clad phantom racing toward them. Kid's red tie flew out from beneath his jacket and tossed itself over his shoulder. Why couldn't his feet go faster?!
He barely managed to dodge several people who refused to move out his way, and he for once did not bother to excuse himself; he was too busy damning the wind. He could not get anywhere he needed to be on his hang-glider on a night like this. And Jii . . . Jii had . . . Kid gripped his fists tighter and continued his dead sprint. It felt like his spirit was trying to tear itself from his body. Despite his speed, the kaitou's body felt heavy. No matter how hard his arms pumped, no matter how many times his feet hit the sidewalk, it felt like he was getting nowhere. The business district was still blurring past the edges of his vision. He could not even feel his lungs burning anymore and the pounding in his chest felt numb, but a dull ache throbbed against the jewel resting on his chest. Air rushing past his ears drowned out the pumping blood, but his head felt hot, incredibly hot, and the pressure was building.
The bakery . . . The dry-cleaners . . . The small lawyers' firmAoko'sfavoriterestaurantthevideorentalstore . . . This street went on forever!
Sweat built up inside his gloves and ran through his tightly clenched fists. The pictures of his mother carrying groceries out to the car and into the house crinkled further in his right hand . . . Groceries he should have been helping her with . . . The images folded unevenly with sharp images and some places had already worn to white edges from the intensity of the death grip on the captured memories. If they got to her before he did . . . An invisible hand clenched around his furiously pounding heart as tightly as he held the photographs. He unwillingly choked through clenched teeth as he ran across the street. Only afterwards did the screeching of brakes and blare of a horn reach his ears. Such anxiety-filled mechanics built up the intensity of his own emotions, stirring them back to the surface of his consciousness again.
I don't know what I can do if I do get there in time, still . . . if I don't get there in time at all . . . Kuso! Mom!! Whatever you do, don't die! I can't lose you to them as well! . . . The pet store! Just around that corner and . . .
Unlike the breaks, the police sirens' wailing broke through his train of though immediately. The red, spinning lights bounced off the shop windows all around him. There was the main one, Nakamori's car . . . Then about three others. If his lungs had the air capacity, Kid would have growled. He reached into his suit and pulled out several small, dark objects. The phantom thief barely glanced over his shoulder as he made sure each of them were active.
"Sorry, Nakamori-keibu," he murmured, "I don't have time to play with you tonight . . ." He then tossed the smoke bombs into the street, with help up of the high winds, and tore around the corner without even taking time to cringe at the filled fish tanks in the shop's window. His cape tangled within itself before snapping out straight and following him around the corner. Meanwhile the smoke bombs hit the pavement, cracked open, and began to spin.
Plumes of smoke rolled out towards both sides of the street and climbed upward into the air, creating a practically opaque wall before the cop cars. Nakamori yelled at the top of his lungs, somehow even louder than before and pushed down on the gas pedal until it pressed against the floorboards of his vehicle. One of his men hollered and begged the inspector to slow down as they rushed towards the smoke. Kid could have a number of things waiting for them on the other side, but the policeman's worse fear was Nakamori becoming over-excited, swerving, and inevitably crashing into something, and quite possibly, someone. Nakamori glared through the windshield with his shoulders hunched. The pink smoke rushed to meet them as the wind carried it to the police cars and splashed against their windshields.
Once Kid had reached the residential area, he took the liberty of taking leaps and bounds over bushes, shrubs and various lawn items in backyards. Now the night blanketed him more thoroughly and the air was more quiet, but it only made his heart sound louder as he became more aware of it. Though he could hear it, and he still raced as quickly as he could to his home, Kaitou Kid strangely felt nothing. Being washed in the night set a sense of calmness over him. A feeling of everything being unreal had settled in as the police sirens became quieter and the loudest things he heard were his feet in the grass and the occasional bark of a family dog. But then his surroundings began to grow more familiar . . . Backyards he had grown up running through . . . His heart began to pick up and once again, the situation grew frighteningly real.
The status of the lights in his house varied depending on the floor and room. For the most part, everything appeared normal. Perhaps the normalcy was what struck the most fear within him. He approached it from the opposite side of the street and he could not force himself to slow down to observe the street itself and the outside of the house. Instead, he found himself madly running for his house, pulling off various items of his costume as he entered his front yard. First went his monocle, then his hat and in the hat went his monocle, gloves and cape. His other clothes followed and were stowed away without though before bursting in through the front door.
Please don't let it be too late . . .
"Mom?!" he called while kicking off his shoes habitually as he ran into the house. Kaito skidded and nearly wiped out into the kitchen table's chairs. The stove was unoccupied by any pots or pans but he could smell gas leaking from the burners. Various ingredients littered the kitchen counter. "Mom?!!" he hollered as he caught himself and pushed the chairs aside and turned back to head for the stairs. A heavy thud above the ceiling alerted him that he was on the right path and he scrambled up the stairs. Voices grew stronger. Low . . . Familiar voices. Kaito's socked feet quickly padded up the wooden steps two at a time; he used the railing to pull himself up along the way. Family portraits and miscellaneous framed photographs passed his eyes and barely registered in his brain. The memories flickered and flashed before his eyes, his mother highlighted in every single one of them.
His memories blurred with reality as he reached the top of the stairs and saw the bulky, dark figure reaching for his mother. What memories of his father swelled up, including the funeral . . . His father laid so gracefully in that coffin as they released the white doves . . . The way his mother had held him so close to her as she wept quietly and attempted to hold back her sobs . . . How his mother appeared now . . . Frightened, confused, horrified and up against the wall . . . They had already taken one Kuroba . . . They could not take another. Completely unarmed of his defenses or not, he was not, could not, about to allow that to happen.
With no words coming to mind, Kaito rushed the man with a mixed cry. Before Kaito himself knew what he was doing, his fist smashed into the secret agent's half-turned face. All his weight put into it, Kaito felt the skin of the man's cheek slide along his teeth on the other side and one slightly dislodge itself. The young man barely had time to absorb his own surprise. The larger male grabbed the front of Kaito's striped shirt and yanked him in a perpendicular direction his body had been heading and Kaito's body flimsily followed due to the man's strength. White paint swarmed the boy's vision and he made contact with the wall moments after he realized he was airborne. He did not even feel the air leave his lungs -- it suddenly just was not to be found. Somewhere is the last couple of moments his mother had screamed his name and it fell upon half-deaf ears. The force of impact stopped time relative to her son, but the moment one of the intruders advanced upon him, Kaito began to make the effort to get to his feet.
His feet planted themselves to the floor as he pressed his back against to the wall to push himself up. At first the world faded in and out, but still he smirked lopsidedly. Perhaps not the wisest move at that point in time, but it was in his nature to do what he pleased, wise or not. The Grey Ops henchman watched him closely. He stood a good two heads higher than Kaito at the least and had the muscle to match. Staring down at the boy from under the brim of his hat, the henchman obviously had plans, none of them too pleasing from Kaito's point of view, and he advanced upon the younger man slowly. Kaito's blue, keen eyes darted around the room for anything he could use. Finding nothing in time, the moment the large man reached out for him, the undisguised thief lashed out with a kick. His foot sunk into the henchman's solar plexus and he heard the gasp for breath. A fist still made its way for Kaito, but he quickly took the opportunity to duck and dodge. A crack broke out across the wall upon the fist's contact.
Intensity of the fight he had just started cleared Kaito's head as he rushed for the other side of the room behind his attacker. The one that had thrown him still stood with his mother's twisted arm, which he easily held with one hand. Before Kaito could try anything particularly risky, his mother needed to be safe. If only he had thought more before rushing into the house! Too late now, he thought grimly.
Kaito rushed in the same as before. He did not hope for a lucky punch as the first time, but . . . No matter what plan had been bubbling in his unconsciousness, the moment that gun slid out of the man's jacket, Kaito skidded to a halt. His heart rocketed into his throat and he nearly reached out a hand with a scream in protest. The blast in his face, along with another scream from his mother stunned him and the white-hot heat across his skin burned and sliced at his left cheek and ear before smashing into the glass of the picture frame on the wall. Crimson that oozed to the surface moments later soothed and stung at the same time, but most of all, it relieved Kaito, despite the petrified expression still on his mother's face. Cautiously, he reached up and wiped at the blood gingerly with the back of his hand. Kaito began to smirk just a little again, even as the hammer of the gun started to cock back.
"I'm certain you've been told already why this is happening," the gun's holder began, "and we don't like to repeat ourselves. Kaitou Kid, your days are over. And while I should pull this trigger now . . . I intend to make you suffer." Kaito wavered a little as he was addressed as his other persona, but at this point, it did not particularly matter what they called him, especially if that next bullet went between his eyes. His body shifted slightly into a defensive position and his eyes darted to his mother momentarily. He tried to give her a reassuring grin, not that at this point it could possible do too much. The son could imagine the thoughts going through her head during those last several moments; nothing he said now would matter until this was over.
A footstep behind him alerted him of one of the other two men behind him and Kaito started to turn, only to be dealt the same treatment he gave the first henchman up his arrival. His lip split open as he stumbled back from the heavy punch. One eye kept itself on the gun. It was still trained on him . . . What was he supposed to do? If he fought back, would he be shot at? Kaito gritted his teeth and dodged another punch and sidestepped a kick. He could not stay on this course, otherwise he would be up against the wall in no time. His mother tried to make a move, and to shout out once again for her son, but her mouth was quickly covered by the large hand that released her arm to silence her. She struggled and tried to pry the hand away with both of her own, but her fight proved futile. Even as she attempted to bite him, her teeth met calloused flesh. The Grey Ops operative's arm kept her head in place and he seemed immune to any attacks her hands and feet made.
Kaito hopped over a sweeping kick and ducked just in time as the second man came in at him. The more he saw his mother struggle out of the corner of his eye, the more pressure that built up in his chest. He hated leaving her like that while the two goons toyed with him, but with the gun trained on him like that . . . Finally he gritted his teeth again and dodged another punch and wove behind him with sheer Kid agility before kicking at the back of the man's kneecap. A loud curse sprung from the operative's lips as he felt his leg going out from under him. He reached back to grab the boy, but Kaito already had another problem, he just did not see it yet. The fallen operative's comrade loomed behind Kaito and grabbed him from behind, interlocking their arms firmly. Kaito immediately tried to yank himself free, but felt as though he was struggling against steel. A string of curses and comments flung from his lips as he attempted to kick at the man behind him. His comments quickly came to a halt as a fist planted itself firmly in his gut. Kaito felt the air rush out of him and some of the blood pooled in his mouth dribble over his lower lip.
That sole punch alone was enough to get back at the young man for a knock in the knee cap, but the lead had already made it perfectly clear that they wanted him to suffer. One blow after another landed across his body from face to hip, and the occasionally below the belt. Blood dripped on the carpet and Kaito's vision swam from time to time. He tried gritting his teeth, but after a few pops to the mouth and the possible cracked tooth or two, just going with the punch seemed favorable. His ribs, his chest . . . Hell, everything hurt. Too painful to look at his mother . . . But one thing he could focus on . . . His father's picture. The image turned red in one eye, but the other could make out Toichi Kuroba's face clearly enough.
Did you go through this at one point too, Dad/i he wondered to himself, gasping in pain from a knee to his stomach. i Or did you try to get out before then . . .Two generations going to share that fate? But if they do . . . Then Mom . . . And Aoko . . . And Jii-chan . . . Dammit. Damn it! You died, but we stayed safe . . . Why can't I do the same if I'm gonna have to die.
A second wind, fueled by guilt and anger swelled up and Kaito hoarsely yelled, kicking out at the man in front of him. His socked foot clipped the man's cheek, but the feelings were carried out successfully. The young man fought furiously against his human bindings but still found them unbreakable. He managed to get in one connected kick before the blows on him came down again, furiously. These blows were no longer carried out with the intention to wound, they landed with every intention of eventually killing him. His arms uselessly held back, Kaito continued to kick out when he could until the henchman finally grabbed his leg, yanked him from his previous binding and across the room. His battered body tumbled across the floor, littering it with blood stains, until he came to a rest three-fourths of the way to the opposite wall. Fresh pain shot through his body to match the new energy that quickly drained from Kaito's body. Gasping for breath, he attempted to push himself up, but fast approaching feet arrived and a boot went to his ribcage, followed by another, and another. Kaito cried out the first time, but settled for curling up afterwards. Fighting back was not an option at this point. Survival for just a little while longer settled in at top priority. Just a little longer . . .
A few orders from his mother's keeper ceased the kicking once the police sirens grew louder and the lights could be seen reflecting off the window frames outside. Kaito's eyes cracked open slightly and a world of feet, and blurry multiples of several pairs filled his bloody vision. He could see his mother trying to run for him, only to be struck by the side of the henchman's gun across the face; Kaito's fingers weakly dug into the carpeted floor upon seeing her crash to said floor. Two pairs of boots left Kaito, but another approached. He tried to look up, and was assisted as the man grabbed Kaito by his hair and yanked his head back before pulling the young man up off the floor. Kaito hissed in pain, but looked back at him defiantly.
"This isn't over." One final toss sent the beaten and battered kaitou into the wall and the Grey Ops operatives were gone. The words dug their teeth into Kaito, and remained about the only thing he held onto as the world went black. Not being over . . . could mean a lot of things.
How much time had passed? A couple seconds? Minutes? Hours? The world remained dim for the most part as Kaito's eyes cracked open slightly. Floor, blood, wall, pain . . . Check, check, check, double check . . . Certainly not paralyzed. As far as Kaito was concerned, he may as well have been because he could not find the strength to move even his head. The floor extended through most of his vision . . . An empty floor . . . One thing he could not feel was his face muscles, if they were moving into a frown, he would never know other than he mentally thought one.
His bloody lips parted slightly and air slipped past them, but no sound even close to coming out as "Mom" left his throat. Mixed emotions began to swell in his chest and panic most of all climbed rapidly. Did he remember things correctly? Did he miss something? After he blacked out, they could have easily hauled her away after striking her . . . He tried to call out again, but found himself interrupted.
"Kaito!" his mother cried softly as she rushed over from where she had managed to pick herself up off the floor. She quickly knelt down before her son and searched his bruised and bloody face for signs of consciousness, or signs of life for that matter. Weary blue eyes looked up at her dazedly and she choked back a sob as tears stung her eyes. Gently, she took his face in her hands to keep gazing at him properly. "Kaito . . ."
The gentle, soft, and comforting touch hurt, no matter how careful his mother tried. If Kaito could have mustered it, he would have grinned, but could only feel her hands delicately handle him. She looked down at him and he could see the darkening bruise already on her cheekbone. Worry, relief, concern and various emotions in-between mixed together in her eyes as the tears pooled to the brim and threatened to fall. Several particular expressions crossed her face that confused him at first. Adoration . . . Understanding? His tired, exhausted mind boggled over them. Adoration not just for her son . . . It seemed so familiar, but he had not seen that look in forever.
"I thought so . . ." she whispered softly as she gently caressed her thumb over his right cheek and wiped some of the blood from it. Not expecting her wounded son to understand in his state, she reached for him, carefully.
Kaito shut his eyes and clenched his teeth in agony as he felt his mother pull him away from the wall. For a moment he sat upright before half falling, half being pulled into his mother's arms. He sunk into her limply and the side of his face rested against her chest. With her arms gently around him, the tension in Kaito's body melted and the pain slipped away as her fingers gently ran through his, dark brown, unruly hair. Her warm, comforting embrace, a mother's, his mother's safe embrace took it all away for the time being. The thundering, law-bound footsteps sounded distant to his ears. If they had come this far, they had not investigated below . . . or had, and had not found what was hidden. More than likely they would not, and that cute weathergirl had predicted clear skies for tomorrow night . . . He could check tomorrow.
Salt tears splashed on the nick in his cheek and if he had had the energy, he would have winced. Kaito could feel his mother's body shudder slightly as she cried softly while still raking her fingers through his hair. A small, pathetic sigh left his chest.
Don't cry, Mom . . . he thought, and should have said, wanted to say.
"Just rest, Kaito . . ." his mother told him softly. He felt her cheek nestle itself on top her head. Her fingers went to the hair at the back of his neck, soothingly running along his skin. Her warmth lulled him back to sleep, or unconsciousness, both seemed the same and equally inviting. Kaito could listen, even if not reply. He sunk further into her, losing to the comfort of the maternal embrace, one that would still be there when he woke.
I'll protect you . . . she left unspoken.