Kaito's "secret" is giving me a headache this morning.

I look over at him, my childhood friend sitting at his desk. He's reading the news of last night's Kid heist on his phone and snickering under his breath like a maniac. I feel a scowl on my face, and for a moment my fingers twitch, itching to grab the nearest mop and whack him over the head with it.

But no. He doesn't know that I know. He has his secret, but I have mine too. I'll save the mop for later, when he inevitably tries to flip my skirt. Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure if he's just continuing a tradition of teasing me, or if he really has become obsessed with the color of my underwear. Bakaito.

Apparently he feels the weight of my glare, because he glances at me out of the corner of his eye and his poker face slams over his expression before I can blink. He flashes that carefree grin of his. "Neh, Aoko, why so grumpy? Did you skip breakfast this morning?"

I look pointedly at his phone. "Something funny about last night's Kid heist?" I say. "Enjoying my dad's humiliation?" Okay, it's a low blow, but really, does he have to gloat so openly?

His grin slips a little. "Humiliation? But it says here that your dad recovered the stolen gem."

"Ah, so you were laughing at how he foiled Kid, were you?" I really should shut up, but I don't. I'm tired from staying up too late last night watching the heist on tv, and my head hurts. "You weren't, say, laughing at how he ran circles around my dad and made him look like a fool?"

"Of course not," he says, smooth as silk. His grin is back in full force. "Why would I be laughing at your dad?"

Oh, I don't know, I manage not to say. Why did you become Kaitou Kid in the first place? Why are you out there creating these elaborate spectacles where you outwit the best police in Tokyo for all to see? Sure, you always give back the gem and make sure my dad gets the credit so that he can keep his job. A job that takes him away from me night after night. Why? Why are you doing this, Kaito?

But I can't ask, of course. So instead I just turn away, huffing.

And there's Hakuba, sitting there looking at Kaito with a knowing smirk on his face. But when he sees me looking his direction, his smirk fades into a more genuine smile. I smile back, but there's no real strength in it, and I pretend to busy myself with opening my math textbook and skimming over the lesson.

Hakuba knows that Kaito is Kid. He makes no secret of it, and is actually kind of obnoxious about it. I suspect that Akako knows as well, because of some mysterious comments she's made.

Considering that there are at least three of us in Kaito's class who know about his nocturnal activities, it makes me wonder just how many other kids in school have figured it out, but just haven't said anything. It's not like Kaito has ever hidden his skill in magic. And most people around here are Kid fans, so it stands to reason that if anyone did figure out that Kaito is Kid, they'd keep it to themselves so that he wouldn't be discovered.

I almost laugh. Wouldn't it be something if Kid's "secret identity" wasn't so secret after all? If he's over there gloating about how clever he is, and everyone is just humoring him?

Except my dad, of course. Because if my dad knew Kaito was Kid, he would have arrested him a long time ago.

Right?

A crazy, utterly insane thought hits me. What if... what if the reason Dad has never caught Kid is precisely because he knows exactly who Kid is? And, just like me, just like Akako, just like... anyone else who has figured it out... he's keeping the truth to himself?

No. Nooooo...

... Maybe?

Hm. There's no heist tonight, so Dad might actually be home for a late dinner. Maybe we should have a little discussion about the Kaitou Kid's "secret identity." I smile at the thought.

"Ah, glad to see you've cheered up, Aoko," says Kaito's voice, somewhere in the vicinity of my knees. "Ooh, lavender with pink hearts. Those new?"

Flushing furiously, I push my skirt between my legs and kick at his head, but of course he's long gone. "Kaitoooo..." I growl, getting to my feet. He wants me to chase him around the school? Fine. I'll chase him.

I stifle the smile that's tugging at the corners of my lips. I'll chase him, but not catch him.

After all, where's the fun in that?

Now, where is that mop?

A/N: Just a quick drabble that started tickling my brain when I was working on my outline for The Case of the Missing Detective. I have a couple of short chapters I can add to this when I have the time to write them down, but my main DC fic is calling me now. Back to work! :)