Disclaimer: Magic Kaito does NOT belong to me. If it did, I would be sitting somewhere in a restaurant in Japan enjoying a soup bowl full of Japanese Ramen, not in the middle of Europe eating Spaghetti.
AN: this fan fiction is based on the Anime version of both Detective Conan and Magic Kaito. It is in general Magic Kaito-canon-friendly, though it might have shattered the Detective Conan-canon a little bit, seeing as I'm going to drop a small bombshell on it. Now, have fun reading!
I've been watching. I've been waiting. In the shadows all my time. I've been searching. I've been living. For tomorrows all my life.
~In the Shadows – TheRasmus
In The Shadows
People sure are simplistic.
They never do pay attention to us people in the shadows. For that is what we are. We're the faithful ones, the loyal sidekicks – the cameos within the cameos. We're there as moral support for the "real" heroes, the tragic and dramatic main characters who get all the glamour and fame. We're standing hopefully at the sidelines, just where the stage props are stored; ready to help out in one way or another, ready to hand the protagonist the weapon or band-aid he needs. And not once does a word of complaint pass our lips.
Personally, I never minded being one of those; not being the focus of the audience's hungry gazes. It never bothered me whenever they took the centre stage: It was in their nature. It was as though they were made for this life in the spotlights, whereas I was perfectly content to remain where I was, half-concealed by the shadows hidden by the long red curtain of their illuminated stage.
I knew that the only thing to draw the focus of their attention, once they came home after a long, long day, that would be me. And if it wasn't, I always knew how to get myself noticed by them. They were both my boys, after all. I'd make sure they got fed, bathed and were ready to face the day whenever their day started – either in the morning or in the afternoon, depending on which one of my boys you'd ask – and to welcome them back home with a smile when it was over.
It would be me who would play with both of them, get their – sometimes rather reluctant – help in the garden again every week and hand them cookies when they did something nice or behaved well. I would be the willing audience for a new trick of theirs, for a play they did for the school theatre and anything else that they fancied they just had to show me.
I would cook together with them from time to time and be the one – the only one – who both of them would use as a dancing partner during those long evenings that we used to spend together just when the week started and the most demanding performances of my dear husband would be over. I would serve them their favorite dishes on special occasions and make sure they remembered their – and any other important (e.g. mine) – birthdays.
I would laugh together with them at some cookie or some other sweets that my stupid, idiotic husband managed to get past me and into the awaiting hands of our wayward son. I swear, sometimes he's the spitting image of his father! Especially when both would peer at me with those oh-so-identical sheepish crooked grins of theirs. I was the "soul of the house", so to speak. That was my job that I would always perform with great relish.
Until, one day, he appeared. And doubt began spreading in my mind like a drop of oil that's contaminating all the clear water around it.
~Taken from a diary entry a few weeks before Kuroba Toichi's death