A/N: Before you all start panicking, let me just say this first: NO. This is NOT going to be another story because I have already wayyy too many unfinished works from like, years before. So I'm sorry no matter how hard you beg, I will NOT turn this into another multi-chaptered story. I might come back and write a sequel later on, but for now, don't expect another chapter or whatever about this one-shot.
Okay, that's done. Now onto another.
I am so terrified to post this.
This is a recent new style that I've decided to have a go at. It's probably my most favourite form of writing (poetic which makes no sense and absolute sense at the same time) and I'm really anxious about posting it. I've been working on this monster of a oneshot (which I didn't intend to make this long) for a seriously long, long, long, long time-like, in the middle of Septemeber or a little more than that. Yes, I've been tossing and turning for this story because Detective Conan has just recently stolen my heart. It is probably the most beautiful, funny, amazing, suspenseful, hair-raising, crazy series that I have ever met. It reminds me so much of my childhood (considering that it used to come on the TV, however I didn't understand anything because of the language because I don't know Arabic, ironically, I promised myself that I'd come back to watch it when I was older...MWHAHAA I LOVE MYSELF SO MUCH FOR THAT). Magic Kaito was just technically the icing on that beautiful cake, I must admit that I have an unhealthy obsession with Kaito and Aoko-so be prepared for a lot of oneshots about them...
Nyaaah, I'm gotten off topic. Terribly sorry. So yeah, I was saying, this is my very first Detective Conan/Magic Kaito oneshot. I'm write all my stories about them under the Detective Conan and Magic Kaito because they're both so beautiful and I really want people from both categories to see it xD
Deal with it.
Time to end my ridicolously long a/n now. :P
Disclaimer: I don't even have half to genius of Gosho Aoyama-sama...
"Kid"
by: PhantomPotterGirl
His fingers lightly tapped against the cool metal wall, the silkiness of the shining metal against his throbbing arm was comforting. His vigorous heartbeat drowned out the wailing cries of the sirens, the ignescent cries of the crowd hundreds of thousands of miles below him; the tiny blinking red dots that danced across his vision didn't stop blood pounding through his head any easier. His right fingers clutched the edge desperately, pulling on his arm—his fingers were cramping, strained under his limp weight. The sweat beaded down from under his hat and his clothes felt unbelievingly hot despite the whipping chilly winds that streaked across his pale cheeks.
His fingers were slipping.
The job itself was relatively a simple one: get in, knock them out, banter playfully and leave.
It had started off well. Slipping into the rich pompous crowds was easy enough—no one would notice the difference between an arrogant bank-owner's son and Kaitou Kid impersonating him—the party itself was moderately shallow, any two-year-old with the right amount of confidence could slip into these crowds and not be suspected of a thing.
We live in such sceptic times...He had mused.
He found his way to the lockdown centre fairly easily—(looks like Nakamori-keibu still wasn't learning anything from his heists), although, he must admit—if it hadn't been for the conspicuous-looking man with the sunglasses 'reading' his newspaper outside the men's public bathroom—he would've mistaken the adjacent room for any isolated hotel ballroom. He had knocked the man out easily, stuffed him inside an empty stall securely and left with the perfect ease of a stranger exiting the washroom.
It was only simple matter of illusion: blend into the officers with the unconscious man's stolen uniform (which he had hidden in one of shifty panels of the bathroom walls, clever man); activate the decoy of himself, which he had stuck to the ceiling beforehand—giving the impression that Kid was going to grab the Spring Winter from above—and while the officers were foaming about with excitement—nip the jewel quickly and dash from the scene.
Only, he couldn't help himself, by changing out of his stolen uniform and creating a violent thunderstorm of officers on his heels...what can he say?
He has a certain weakness for the dramatic.
Then it was only another matter of reaching the rooftop and taking flight. He'd memorised the layout of the building the previous night, the memory-burned image of the building sprung into his head; if he was correct; it would only take a dash through the ballroom (which should be empty by now), down the corridor, to the left and the last door at the end. The narrow corridor would take to his advantage during the chase; it was amazing how his Task Force was thick enough to run in a mob of other angry officers and not realize their of catching him declined, by a sheer ninety-nine percent (because he could grudgingly admit that they had caught him once—by surprise, alright? He was distracted that night!).Anyways, he was exhausted (last night heists brought nothing but splitting headaches in the morning) and for now—all he could do was hope the night would end as smoothly as possible; so he could get home and salvage as many hours of sleep before his murderous alarm rang.
Suffice to say he never expected the events that followed as soon as he arrived in the ballroom.
The ladies lavatory to his right burst open and he was launched off his feet, landing quite painfully on his left arm.
"GAH!"
Flustered: "Oh my god, are you ok—Kaitou Kid?"
His eyes opened in panic. Oh no.
His blood froze. Could that—could it...be...?
The stranger exclaimed a confused and bewildered 'what'. Unable to comprehend how her limbs suddenly froze from the shock—it was almost funny when she thought about it; she had imagined meeting him one day, either by heist or when he was behind bars, mentally, she thought she was prepared for it, she had gotten through almost every single scenario in her head: knocking her out, kidnapping...etc, the answers were all there.
Yet...in the vision of her sight, seeing him in front of her—so human-like; it just...hurt.
He knew it.
This was not good. That voice. He knew it. It was unmistakeable, he knew that voice. What—what was she doing here? Was Nakamori insane? This was a heist! Not a birthday party! Of all the—
"Kaitou Kid! What—what are doing...?"
He almost smirked; as articulate as ever...
Composing his best Poker Face (oddly enough, it slipped so sloppily around her), he smiled—Kid's smile. He couldn't afford to let lose the usual retort that was itching at the back of his throat.
He hated how she did that.
"I'd expect the daughter of Nakamori-keibu to know that answer." He answered smoothly.
She scowled immediately, "You're not getting away this time!"
His arm was killing him, it felt like it was broken, it probably was—and as ridiculous as it sounds—that door packed a mean punch. Of course it was so natural that she was the one that opened said door.
Bimbaoko—always ruining everything...
His expert fingers tipped his hat, "That's what they all say Nakamori-san; and I have yet to believe it. And now if you'll excuse me, young miss, I wouldn't want to impose my presence on you any longer—such hostility at a young age isn't healthy for a growing woman as yourself."
He could feel her veins explode from anger as he finished speaking.
"My father will catch you, Kaitou Kid!" she yelled, ignoring how distantly familiar his words were.
He had to resist the urge to smirk at her. Again. Silly Aoko, he knew what she was doing. Did she really believe that he couldn't hear the distant thunder of running officers, the faint curses of her obscenely colourful father, swearing his capture? He had been playing this game for a while, no?—not as long as she and others of the world are quite led to believe, no. But all the same, he was rather brilliant...if he must say so himself. He's managed to fool Nakamori-keibu into believing he was the same man he was hired to capture eight years ago...if nothing, this was his best performance yet.
And then, quite suddenly, with the adrenaline and blood rushing through his head, the slightly drunk and light-yet-heavy feeling in his eyes, he had quite an odd thought:
It was dark.
Well, not dark, dark. As in, pitch black dark (because then how could Aoko and Kaito have seen each other?), but more of a dimmed down type of dark. It was the type of dark of which his most enthusiastic fangirls (Kid's and Kaito's), have dreamt and publicized often, of which they fantasized being swooped away with romanticism from his superior charm and wit as fantasy-Kid/Kaito would whisper words of love and passion in their hungry ears and await the burning, awaiting, eager lips of his...
In short: his eyes stung just by looking away from her.
Why was it so dim though? Shouldn't the hotel have turned on the lights already? Didn't they expect him to come running through here? He blinked. It was really dim. So dim in fact, his eyes would really twitch with pain if he looked away from her—it was her skin, he realised, which kept his mind sane. He could clearly see the soft hues of yellow light colour on her skin, the outline of her sparkling dress, and her hair; a refreshing source of light from the persistent and grudging darkness that enveloped around him.
Ha, her hair was just another matter all by itself in the dark.
So, strange...he thought. Her hair looked feminine and it was glowing. It looked...soft and...not Aoko-like. His eyes suddenly caught hers.
Her eyes were the strangest.
Blue, so blue and so bright. Bright and watery, like liquid sapphires...like a fresh lake on a hot summer's day glittering under the sun, like the glinting glow of sapphires and twinkling nebulas of the universe. He felt as if he could drown in them...
Wait.
Wait a minute.
His eyes snapped back into focus and he could see her scowl, angry and furious, glaring at him—wait a minute...
...this was—this was Aoko. Aoko, his man-ish, temperamental best friend; the girl, the crazy girl who chased him with a mop during class!
...since when—since when...but—how the?—when in the, where in the world—did this—did this all come from?
Another second and he got in deeper; blue and bright; watery, starry night skies—like sapphires. Like a nebula...glittering, glinting, glowing...
Wow.
Oh...wow.
This was...this was new.
Was it wrong he wasn't surprised—or in denial?
He stared—oh.
Oh.
It's been there for quite some time, he realised; would've been helpful if he hadn't noticed at this particular moment, when he was in a rather difficult position of suspicion...any other day would've been perfectly fine...but then again, if he himself wasn't normal—why would any other part of him strive to be?
"Good evening Nakamori-san." He bowed slightly, smiled and burst up into a cloud of smoke.
Coughing, Aoko waved her hands to get the smoke out of her eyes. When she came to, Kid was gone and in his place, a single white flower grinned sardonically up at her.
...
"...Kaitou Kid!" Aoko screamed angrily.
He'd made it to the roof—no one had interrupted him that time (with the revelation intoxicating his mind, he didn't believe he could've handled someone else interrupting his focus)—and he realized then, when the wind whipped across his face and his fingers reached for the clasp which activated his hang glider—just how much his arm was killing him.
Dammit.
Just how hard did Aoko swing that door?
It was stiff, his left arm, and he was more than sure enough that moving it wouldn't help him get out of this mess. He was stuck. Stuck. Stuck, on one of the most annoyingly extended nights of his life with possibly, the worst conditions someone like him could encounter.
He counted back, his situation compromised of him: stuck on the rooftop of hotel, a priceless emerald burning in his pocket (which, unsurprisingly, was not the one he was looking for), thousands of officers thirsty for his blood, a certain someone who wasn't supposed to be there which had lead to a sudden not-at-all-surprising revelation because he had stupidly decided to go on ignoring the warning signs that flashed in head, and pass it off as raging hormones that didn't mean anything because, she was her while he was him—and with a broken arm.
Someone truly hated him out there.
Humph.
His next seconds were limited. Okay.
Calm down Kaito, think.
Nakamori was no moron when it came to Kid's tricks; he knew he'd figure out that he was on the roof (eventually), it was only a matter of time; which meant he would only have an estimate, of about thirty seconds before they surround him—and with only a broken arm as his ally, he wouldn't be able to quick-change.
Dammit Kaito! Think!
He was Phantom Thief 1412!
Kaitou Kid! The Master of Disguise! The King of Illusion!
He could think of something!
Anything!
His ear prickled, very faint and distant shouts reached his cold ears...it was Nakamori—screaming and swearing.
Dammit!
Come on Kaito. Come on, think!What? What does he do? What can he do?
He heard them coming closer.
Closer...
Closer...
...closer...
...
Wait a minute.
Maybe if—
His eyes widened, could he—? Maybe, maybe if he had—he hurriedly rampaged through his pockets...c'mon, c'mon, please be here...ah, yes! He hadn't lost it! His eyes swept over the skyline—it was risky...life-threatening, far more dangerous than anything he's ever done...which was saying something...
"I'll catch that bastard!" Nakamori's voice screamed from the building below.
His glare sharpened—he had no choice, it was now or never. He could do of only two things: wait with his broken arm, get captured, hopefully get admitted to a hospital and try to escape from there; which he knew was unlikely—as soon as Nakamori got his thick, grubby fingers on him, he'd reveal his identity.
Or...he could do the impossible.
Ha.
What a question.
"Over here!"
Thunders of booted heels clacked and rumbled across the narrow corridor—a lone figure watched the restless crowd uneasily, growing weary at the sight of the Inspector, growling and roaring at his men.
What was she doing?
She was insane. She was going to get caught, her father was going to kill her, and she was going to be caught. It wasn't worth it. Her life wasn't worth it.
Yet...
His snarking grin flashed through her head—and the fury rose up again. She had to. It could be her only chance; catching him off guard would be impossible, what, with the Kaitou Kid Task Force on his heels like catching fire on gasoline...
Slowly, she slipped through the corridor, and headed towards the last door.
There was no backing down now.
He hadn't known how it had happened.
One moment, he was setting himself up for the escape—slick line of concrete wire tightly wounded around the inside of his right glove (but not so much that it'd hurt him), his focus divided between the direction of the wind and the glinting windows of the building opposite of him. The trick was unstable, he knew it, and he was more than positive enough that if Jii-chan was here with him, he'd turn blue trying to talk him out of it. But then, Kaito never really had much common sense to begin with—his tricks wouldn't have had as much flair to them if he did—and with his handicapped arm slowing him down, he was cornered.
He had no other choice.
Tightly gripping onto the rope, he carefully leaned over the edge of the building. His skilled feet expertly positioned themselves on the edge, with the back of his heels slightly hanging over the edge. His tugged his tightened wrist, solidifying that the rope was stable and was faintly causing him to lean backwards—he waited silently, for the quickening footsteps of the Inspector and his men.
That was what he expected, with precise calmness.
What he didn't expect, however, was the timid taps of a slim figure open the rooftop door and rapidly lock it behind her.
One look at her face.
No!
...then, suddenly his grip loosened on the rope with surprise—and rapidly, the world flipped over itself into a dizzying, startling mess of blurring colours. He could feel the rope tug on his arm forcefully, pulling him back, back, back over the edge; his legs gave away to gravity, slipping haphazardly in a lighting-speed jumble over the slick metal, his hands reached out to the stars, trying, reaching, grabbing...
But nothing was there.
Faintly, he could hear the harsh cries of someone calling out to him, he could feel the blood rush rapidly through his head, the echoing gasps of his own voice throbbing in his hollow head; he could feel the wind whip over his suit—cutting, whipping, strangling him in the vacant darkness of the soul-sucking stars...
Blue.
A glint in the darkness.
Falling...
Falling...
...falling...
His face crashed against the edge—blood spurted from his nose heavily, the sudden collision somehow caused his frozen limbs to activate again. His fingers absently grasped on something.
Then the world shifted into focus, his eyes burning, his nose pulsating with blood, his head pounding, his ears ringing from the sudden crash—oh god his body ached and he couldn't believe the pain.He realized then, the strained throbbing of his arm, the incapability to move his other, now, completely broken arm; his entire weight was being held onto by his fingers—which were slipping, over the edge of a skyscraper.
Well...
Oh shit.
Oh God.
Did that really happen?
Ear-splitting screaming: "Kid!"
His ears detected the bloodcurdling scream. What? Was that—Aoko? His eyes flashed.
Blue.
She made him fall.
If something happened...oh god—if something—no! She can't think that way! He can't...oh shit...
There was only one thing she could do.
It didn't matter who she was, who he was or that popular belief contradicted her choking fears because he was going to fall over the skyscraper and die. It didn't matter—she couldn't think.
Which was why as soon as her eyes glimpsed the shocked eyes of the Phantom Thief, his body forcefully arching back—she launched herself forward from instinct, screaming, screaming and begging, begging so desperately because oh god she could never live with the guilt if she left him fall over...
Time slowed...
Her voice screamed out, "Kid!" repeatedly, her eyes burning, oh god let her get there on time.
His eyes widened.
Blue, she thought in a faint corner of her mind with strange fascination, his eyes were blue...
His body dissolved from view—oh shit, don't tell me that he fell over, he's the Phantom Thief Kid, falling over the edge of a building an insult to his reputation c'mon Kid you could do better!
"Kid!" her throat was raw.
C'mon Kid!
You can't die!
Ear-shattering screams: "Kid!"
Her body roughly collided with the edge—oh my god was that blood?—with desperation she looked below with frantic eyes please, please please tell me he did something stupid and survived, please tell me, please please please...
And with bone-crushing, soul-soothing pure relief, her eyes caught him.
Hanging—slipping through his fingers.
The grip came down to four fingers, soon it three...
Two...
One...
And without a second thought, her arm threw itself over the edge, her fingers greedily reaching for his sleeve, c'mon c'mon reach it, reach it, grab his hand! Her mind urged her with screaming frustration.
A second his fingers lost his grip, her fingers caught his hand at the last moment, clutching his hand with white-hard knuckles—his head snapped with up in shock, towards her face. Under the moonlight, his monocle lost the glint, turning transparent under its silvery light.
...oh god.
She choked a sob.
His eyes saddened with such grief she would've looked away if they had been in any other situation.
"I'll tell you everything." he whispered lamely, his voice hoarse from the steady stream of blood running from his nose.
Her eyes choked with tears, streaming like faucets, "You'd better." She gritted her teeth.
When Nakamori finally got his men towards the roof, they burst in with the type of gusto men their age should've lost years ago. Instead of finding a grinning Kid smirking at them, as expected, Nakamori found his daughter—on the floor—staring blankly over the skyline.
"Aoko!" he yelled, rushing to her side with concern, "what are you doing here? Where's Kid?"
Blankly: "He left."
His eyes widened, "Is that—blood?—Aoko, you're—!"
"It's not mine." She cut in abruptly.
"...what?" Nakamori turned from his daughter towards his confused men, "search the building! Kid's bleeding! He might still be here! Aoko—", he turned towards her again, "what happened? What are you doing here?"
"I followed him. I wanted to catch him off guard. He flew away on his glider as soon as I got here."
He frowned, "And the blood?"
"His nose was bleeding."
"His nose?" Nakamori exclaimed incredulously, "that's not like him at all. He's always been more careful than that...guess he really is human after all..." he muttered more to himself than her. "Anyways," he coughed, "you shouldn't be here. You should have gone downstairs with the others."
"I'm sorry." She said.
He blew out a huge breath, "Just get home, okay? Don't run off on your own again. I'll be staying late so don't wait up."
"Okay." She quietly shuffled away from his grasp, and silently made her way towards the door.
"Be careful." He called to her.
"I will." She replied without turning back.
Nakamori—for the life of him—couldn't understand the hollowness in his daughter's eyes.
"You lied to me."
"I had to."
"I'm your best friend."
"I know."
"You're not lying to me anymore."
"I won't. Ever."
"...tell me everything."
A/N: ...sooooooooo? How was it? DON'T FLAME ME IF IT'S SHITTY PLEASE?
PhantomPotterGirl