The Vampire Detective

Chapter eight – Capable of Coping

Disclaimer – I am not male. I am not Japanese. I am a writer.

"Ever wonder what would have happened if Holmes had taken Lupin with him to Reichenbach Falls instead of Watson?" – Kuroba Kaito, the Moriarty Gambit.

Shinichi was doing his best to stalk his way home. He was slouched slightly. His hands were – most of the time – in his pockets. His eyes glowed faintly in the street lights and whenever a car went past. He was scowling fiercely.

The one thing that disturbed that picture, however, was the fact that he was uncontrollably, uncomfortably, non-stop sneezing.

A nearby cat looked up from its usual late-night hunt, startled at the noise. Noting that it was only a strange human that smelled like a predator, the cat daintily half-ignored him and went on its way.

Shinichi disconsolately brought out another – yet another – tissue and hoped that maybe it would be gone by morning.

---

Mid-morning at the professor's, however, still saw him sniffing, even though it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been the previous night.

Haibara, true to her scientist self, had all but pounced on him the moment he had walked in the door that morning, still suffering the after-effects of sock-smoke-bomb, insisting that he let her see what exactly was going on with his nervous system that his regenerative cells couldn't handle. He had been extremely mortified to find out that her less problematic sense of smell and her skills as a chemist had shortly concluded that the smoke had included a very small amount of garlic powder. Just another thing for him to worry about. Just another one of those supposed-to-be-a-horror-tale things that actually existed. Even if it didn't poison him, fits of sneezing were nothing to – well – sneeze at. At least he knew that, given his rate of recovery, he would be back to normal in only a couple of hours. If that.

The topic that was under heated discussion, however, was not what had caused Shinichi's sneezing, or even the main event of the previous night – although that did come under scrutiny – and the content of his and the Kid's discussion on the rooftop had not been revealed. No, the real debate was over what Kid had used as a final smoke bomb.

"It's a trap."

"Haibara. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know perfectly well what I am talking about, Kudo-kun. If perhaps I don't, then it wouldn't be my fault, now would it? Even so, I wouldn't treat this as confidently as you are."

"I'm not treating it confidently! I just don't think the guy's the enemy!"

"And it's not as though you've never made a mistake there, have you?"

"Dammit, I know I've made mistakes before! Look at me; living undead proof! But trust me on this one. I know I can trust him. Somehow."

"Because of your instincts, right?"

Somehow she made the whole idea of instincts seem like lunacy in a way that only Haibara Ai could.

"Yes! No. Alright, my detective instincts."

This time all the reply he had was a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes of scepticism. Agasa-hakase, who had been watching the whole thing since before it had even started, opened his mouth to try to say something to stop the argument and was once again cut across.

"You expect me to believe that after subtly training your scent analysis throughout the heist, throwing down a stink bomb with the equivalent of his D.N.A in it to you isn't just some kind of elaborate plan? I fail to see your point."

Shinichi sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair.

"He's not going to ambush me. Can't you see that? If I went looking for him, I could track him down, find out who he is and where he lives, not to mention get the jump on him rather than the other way around. He. . . gave me a weapon. Something I could use against him. If I wanted to." He thought for a moment. "Besides," he said, cocking his head to one side, "I thought you liked Kid."

Haibara scowled at him. "I don't hate him and I have no compulsion to go chasing after him – unlike some people. I don't, however, trust him either."

Shinichi scowled right back at her. "I didn't say that I trusted him, either. He's got a weird mind, for a thief. Even his double meanings have double meanings. Of course I'm not going to let my guard down around him – that'd be stupid."

"I'm glad you-"

"I am going to trace it, though. Today. Before it gets cold. Hopefully without him noticing. Maybe."

"What do you mean, 'maybe'?!"

His face darkened, and he stood up. "Exactly what I said. Maybe." Going over to the fridge, he took something out and pocketed it, then made for the door. The girl chemist opened her mouth to say something else, knowing that he would still hear her, but then shut it again. Even if he heard her, he wouldn't listen to her. Come to think of it, he hardly ever had, even as Conan, when it came down to it. Vampirism didn't help that side of things much, either.

She sighed. Well, thinking like that wasn't going to get her anywhere.

"Ne, Ai-kun. Was what you told Shinichi-kun-"

"Someone had to be the voice of reason. And while I do admit that Kid is just about the least likely person to be an agent for Them, I was telling the truth when I said that I wouldn't trust the thief as far as I can throw him." Which said not very far, owing to her current size. She sighed, and Agasa looked down at her contemplatively. "I do, however, wonder what it is that he is up to. Kudo-kun was right; the Kaitou Kid certainly gave him an incomparable weapon, of sorts."

And, not that I'll mention it aloud, but it also gave Kudo-kun a reason to trust him. A reason to believe beyond mere words that the Kid trusts him, a thing that I understand only too well. He lost his ability to disguise himself as surely as if he took off the monocle there and then, that Kaitou Kid. . .

-

Shinichi stopped by home before anything else, to pick up a bottle of water for what could possibly turn out to be a long walk. It wasn't as though he could hop on a bus to get to where he was going after all, especially since he didn't even know where he was going in the first place. He'd have to go on foot, checking every so often to make sure that he hadn't wondered off track.

It was a good thing, then, that his new physiology was tough enough and more. Even if the whole 'tracking a person by scent' thing made him out to look totally ridiculous, at least in his eyes.

He shook his head as he took yet another turning. I've been through worse embarrassment before. The whole Conan fiasco was an embarrassment. This is nowhere near anything like that. So get over it.

And get over it he did, or at least enough to get the job done. The next couple of hours were spent, from the moment he reached the back alleys of the gallery house that had been the place of last night's heist and picked up the scent of Kid's departure, trawling through alleyway after alleyway and over walls and even climbing up fire escape routes onto rooftops and having to jump rooftops. It was, however, nothing that he couldn't deal with. Knowing the Kaitou Kid, and knowing also that the thief had been watching him through 'Katie's' eyes, it was probably a route designed specifically for him.

Lovely.

Shinichi grimaced, resting for ten minutes in what appeared to be the same public toilets that Kid had used the previous night to change out of his work clothes and into something a bit more civilian, if the slight change in scent was anything to go by. He leaned against the wall having washed face, hands, and various other parts of him that had gotten dirty – somehow. How Kid does that without getting filthy, I don't know. Unfortunately, he didn't have another set of clothes to change into, so he made do as best he could by brushing himself off. That done, he finished the last of his water and headed out of the door, absently throwing the empty bottle into a trash can as he looked at one of the first signposts in his entire strange journey.

One rather large arrow pointed to Tokyo, off in one direction. Others bore other towns in other directions, but only two signs truly caught his attention. One was the sign for Beika, only a couple of kilometres off even though he was sure he had travelled far further than that to get to where he was. The other was the 'you are here' sign, which read Ekoda. Or rather, to be more literal, Ekoda prefecture town centre, half a kilometre that way.

Interesting. It seemed Kid had chosen this particular stop-off point for a couple of good reasons. It made things easier for him as he knew where he was; it also made things harder for him since there were an awful lot more people here than there had ever been in the alleys or roofs of the other half of the route, obscuring the trail.

Shinichi took a deep breath in an attempt to both relax away from unnecessary panic and also sift out unfamiliar smells. Sift right down to the ones he recognized. Right down to – that one. One that was only newly familiar in one sense, yet was both old to him and easily recognizable in another. Smoke and the copper tang of something metal, the clean scent of whiter than white satin combined with invisible sweat from wearing too many masks in one night, not to mention too many costumes. The faint stench of sock-bomb hung wearily on the edges of the crumbs of something sweet, a snack after the heist. . .

He followed it around the town, letting it take him to what seemed like places the civilian persona of the Kid must go to on a regular basis. The patrons of the shops – not to mention a few others on the street, which was almost worrying before he realized what was going on – thought that they recognized him. It didn't surprise him to find this out. After all, the Kid had to look a lot like him to have been able to pull off that prank theatre heist without a mask on of any kind. He recognized the places Kid went to regularly because those had that same scent permeating the air, except without the added reek of intensified sock-bomb.

After a while, though, the trail turned out of the centre of town and towards one of the more suburban areas, a place full of housing rather than shops.

The scent was getting stronger. The last few streets had practically shouted out to him, as if he was kind of predator, and he was entering Kid's territory.

Shinichi hesitated.

If he took this last turning down into the next street, and he had a strange feeling would be his last street, then he would have no choice but to do one of either two things. He could stake out the house, tell the police that he had received an anonymous tip-off, then go in with them and be the one to arrest the Kaitou Kid. Or –

Or he could not do that.

He could take this one last step down into the abyss of the rabbit hole, not knowing where it would take him, and trust in his instincts.

And his instincts said to trust the Kaitou Kid – as much as Kid had to have trusted him. Oh, yeah, he wasn't that dumb. He knew what all this had been for, if not why. Even for that he had a vague idea. The heist had been all about honing his ability to track someone down – specifically Kid himself – simply by using his nose. The little tour around the houses had only been to refine the previous night's work.

Which meant that the Kid trusted him – had to, really – not to abuse that ability to know where – and who – the thief was. It had to be trust. Shinichi knew that, because deep down he remembered that the Kid had found out about Conan, used his knowledge of Conan in the heist note even, yet had never told anyone. In fact, the Kid had helped him avert peoples' eyes to the truth more than once. Whether he had liked it at the time or not.

So the question remained. Stay with the law, protecting the truth and justice, or side with someone who knew all of his dirtiest secrets and still trusted him implicitly? Turn him in, or hand himself over? Possibly turn himself into an accessory to crime? That was what he knew would happen if he walked down that street. Kid had an agenda, and not a simple one, either. If it was simple, the guy wouldn't have enemies.

The answer came when he thought about what he would do afterwards. What he would feel and how he would react. What would he do after he had handed the Kid over to the police, handcuffed and helpless? What would he do next? Would he be able to face himself, having done that, without even asking Kid for an explanation? Would he be able to live with himself, knowing that the guy's enemies would probably be able to get to him in jail, and knowing how they had acted towards him in previous heists, to secure an early end for the benign thief?

He later supposed that it was his answers to the above questions that was what really set him moving around that corner, down Ookami street, headed straight for one seemingly inconspicuous house that looked as normal as any of the rest of them, if it hadn't been for the dovecot that he knew was there by sound and the increased number of pigeon droppings in that precise area.

He was at the door and his hand had rung the doorbell before his mind caught up to what his body was doing. Not that he would have done any differently, though.

It took a couple of minutes before the door opened to reveal a woman, probably the same age as his own mother, standing there with an apron on. She had darker hair than Kudo Yukiko, and also had more of a homely, housewife-like look about her. The stern, stubborn set to her and the polite welcome that he saw before it disappeared were all too familiar, though.

Polite welcome stayed for maybe less than five seconds before being replaced by a distant smile; a smile that instantly set off alarm bells in Shinichi's head and made him have to force himself not to smirk even slightly in triumph. Nothing showed on her face, but her heart rate had increased at the sight of him. If she was in any way related to Kid, then she almost definitely knew his face. She had to know who he was, especially since Kid hadn't yet stepped foot outside the house since last night.

"Yes, can I help you?"

Her voice was normal, not low like a whisper or loud enough to warn. Yet he had a problem. He hadn't actually planned this far. Oops.

But then again. . . he might as well have some fun, right?

"Excuse me," he started, sounding far more confident than he felt, "I was wondering if I could speak to someone."

"Of course, but- "

"I was under the impression that the Kaitou Kid lived in this residence."

It was all he could do not to burst out in laughter and snickers. He wasn't telling a single lie; it was all true. He wasn't even making any threats, though he supposed his presence alone might have been seen as one.

Still. The look on the woman's face when he said that was. . . worth it.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," she was now saying, noticeably louder. A warning. Shinichi almost would have winced at the obviousness of it. Her face had given her away, too – or were those signs that only he could see? It didn't matter. "This is not a family that harbours thieves."

Aha – family. So my first deduction was right. And judging by her age, I'd say that he'd be about my age. Interesting.

On the outside, he merely cocked an eyebrow at her but no more.

"I never said anything about that," he rejoined mildly. "In fact, I did say that I simply wanted to speak. Not specifically to Kid, either."

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe if we could step inside and discuss this?"

Narrowed eyes turned into stony, flinty eyes and grimly resolute determination. Maybe he'd moved a little to quickly.

"No," she said, politeness still hanging on by a thread. "I think not. You have no right to be anywhere near my home."

Ouch, that hurt. He resisted the urge to rub his nose and back away from the encroaching static barrier that stood between him and the threshold of the house, one of the more annoying, irritable and downright inconvenient things to have happened during the change. He was just attempting not to be pushed off the porch when a voice – a very familiar voice – cut across them both and somehow halted the barrier's progress.

"Mom?" The voice yawned as its owner made their way slowly down the stairs. "Wha's goin' on here?"

Barely two more steps down the stairs, and everyone froze. The boy on the stairs was practically gaping at the scene played out before him of his mother and Shinichi; Shinichi and the Kid's mother – and he knew it was him, since he still had after-effect of sock-bomb – were both staring at him. Kid's mother was panicking badly and had gone quite pale. Shinichi himself was shocked at how familiar that voice really was. Even coming prepared that they both looked and sounded similar to each other, it still came as a surprise.

Kid was the first one to break the tableau. He grinned suddenly, putting his mother off balance.

"It's all right, mom. We met last night and I kinda told him he could say hi next time he was in the neighbourhood."

Shinichi blinked, then glared. Kid only grinned wider, thumping down the rest of the stairs. He gave her a more natural smile and put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

"Really – it's fine. I all but invited him over." He looked back at Shinichi, smirk evident, when she looked like she was about to object. "Besides, if he'd wanted to arrest me, he'd have brought Nakamori-keibu, right?"

Kid looked to him and reluctantly, Shinichi nodded.

"There! See? Nothing to worry about."

She turned away with one last worried, and in Shinichi's case wary, look and disappeared out of sight – presumably to the kitchen, where there were smells of cooking. The moment she was out of hearing range, however, Kid leaned laconically against the wall, irritating smirk in place on his face.

"So. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"You're admitting everything that easily?" Shinichi rebuffed, frowning with a little confusion.

Kid snorted, smirk not wavering. "It's hardly as though I could hide from you anymore, Tantei-kun. You'd know if it wasn't me."

True. He would know, now.

"And you feel so comfortable talking in the open like this. . . how, exactly?"

The other shrugged. "I'm not. But that wouldn't make much of a difference if we don't shout or do anything stupid." He let the smirk tone down into a rather nonchalant smile, lifted a hand in a play of inspecting his nails.

Shinichi felt like shouting something incomprehensible in frustration.

"This," he said through gritted teeth, "is not getting us anywhere."

"You're right," said the Kid, suddenly straightening up and doing a near-to-perfect imitation of Shinichi himself, ironic and well chosen for their likeness. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

A glint of the Kid's humour leaked through the mask and into his eyes.

"Stop that," the real Shinichi said irritably. "Anyone who looked close enough would know now, at any rate. I move differently, I'm paler and people tend to back off quickly when I get angry."

A disgusted look crossed the thief's face for a moment, but there was still mischief in those blue-violet eyes.

"You're no fun, you know that? Spoilsport." With a sigh, he backed into the hallway a bit to give Shinichi space to come in and take his shoes off. "Fine, then. I oh-so-humbly invite you into my magnificent abode," he said, quite obviously making opposites out of almost everything; almost, because the moment the words were said Shinichi felt the invisible barrier dissipate and it was with embarrassed relief that he stepped inside and changed from shoes to house slippers.

"You know," Kid said as he led him into the house proper, "I kinda didn't expect you to come over quite so quickly."

"It was a spur of the moment thing," the detective answered dryly. "Not unlike your heist and its accompanying note, I'm sure."

Kid started to chuckle with an almost embarrassed note in his laughter, but was interrupted by a traitorous yawn.

Shinichi himself attempted to hold back laughter at the lack of control the action showed, failed.

"Late night, Kid?"

A sour look was shot his way.

"No thanks to you. It took ages for you to get the point! And then leaving that trail . . . Besides, don't call me that here."

"Call you what?"

"Kid."

Shinichi bit back a retort saying that it was who the other boy was, or that it was the only thing he knew him by. It wouldn't help, here.

"Then what do I call you?"

Hesitation – from the palpable pause to the frozen foot just about to step onto the first step of the stairs. For a moment, he could almost feel the Poker Face, but then it sort of slid off, still half covering, but also half revealing. He carried on up, and Shinichi followed.

"Call me Kaito. Kuroba Kaito. It's my name."

Something in his old instincts – the ones that had told him that men in black were bad and that he could trust the Kaitou Kid – something in them told him that what had just occurred was under no circumstances to be taken lightly.

He knew Kid's name. His real name. Not just a designation or disguise; this was his real life. He knew as surely as if the Kid had given him away to Ran before two weeks ago his world would have collapsed, so now did he have control over the Kid.

It was an almost irony, really. Both had some sort of sway, some sort of knowledge to blackmail the other, leading them into a pretty little standoff if that was what they wanted. All hell could break loose, if one person took one wrong step.

So, of course, he simply nodded, then continued to follow the Kid – no, Kuroba Kaito – up the stairs.

It came as little to no surprise that the room he was lead to wasn't actually Kid's – Kuroba's – room, but instead a sort of miniature entertainment suite, complete with stereo system and a large television, not to mention the rather big sofa to watch TV from. A couple of games consoles were stacked in one corner, and, perhaps most notably of all, there was a prominent portrait in the middle of the opposite wall to which he had come in by. Various papers were scattered all over the place, not a few books, and there was a computer half-buried by post-it notes just in front of the small window.

"Now this," the other boy said with no little relish and punctuating his words by throwing himself onto the sofa, "is where we can talk freely. Anything you like. Ask and I'll answer – within good reason, of course."

Shinichi sat himself down at the other end and crossed his arms.

"Just how," he demanded with a trace of bemusement, "did you know that I had to be invited in?"

The other boy laughed, a mix mostly of embarrassment but also of a little pride.

"Easily, actually," came the answer. "Especially when you've got police record access codes to read your case reports."

"That's illegal," he said flatly, disapprovingly. The other just shrugged and looked with a distracted air at the portrait – it had to be Kaito's father, and judging by surname and profession, most probably was Kuroba Touichi. Before Shinichi could dwell on that thought for very long, however, the younger Kuroba caught his attention by talking again.

"I only needed to read a few of the reports to spot the trend. Warrants, written invites to investigate, the police asking you to help them with your deductions. . . it all lead up to one thing, really. The fact that most the other times recorded that you somehow got yourself an invite of some kind. . . it was obvious."

"If you knew to look."

"Yup."

Shinichi sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. For someone who had simply knew where and how to look, his every secret had been as obvious as if he had committed a crime right in front of his own eyes, making sloppy mistakes and tripping every alarm, caught in the act. But not by himself; by the boy sitting just across the sofa from him. The boy acting as if everything that he had found out was nothing, at best new fodder for jokes and pranks.

As if it didn't matter.

". . . why?"

He didn't even know that he had spoken the word, the question, until it was being answered.

"My. . . father. I bet you've worked it out by now. If you hadn't, it wouldn't have taken you long."

Kuroba Kaito sighed and Kudo Shinichi nodded. The pieces of the puzzle had all been there in the detective's head, but as the other spoke those words, they came together as easily as if he had said the blunt truth.

The Kaitou Kid who had disappeared eight, nearly nine years ago now, had been Kuroba Touichi. He didn't need to glance back at the portrait to see the similarities between the white tuxedo, top hat and doves of the magician and the Kid.

"They told me eight years ago that he'd died in an accident," Kaito said in almost a monotone, and even though Shinichi knew that his heart was racing he didn't say anything about it. "I was there. I didn't see much. But the police and everyone else all agreed that it was an accident, and that was what I grew up believing."

Something horrid made its way into Shinichi's stomach – he had a gut-wrenching idea where this was going.

"It wasn't, right?"

Kaito looked up, nodded once.

"I found out a few months before our first meeting last year – someone was pretending to be Kid, and I'd challenged myself that I was a better magician than Kid." A humourless laugh escaped the thief before continuing. "I found out that night. Found the costume and the equipment." Kaito made a movement of his head, almost assessing Shinichi. "Before that point, and up until the person who had been impersonating Kid told me the truth, I hadn't known. Hadn't known that my dad had been Kaitou Kid. Hadn't known that he'd been murdered."

Shinichi saw the fists clench. He didn't say anything. After a minute or two of silence Kaito grew himself a smirk.

"That was when I decided that I'd track down the guys who killed dad and make them pay. I figured that if the Kaitou Kid was suddenly back in action, it'd lure the bastards out into the open and maybe make them stupid enough to get seen."

Shinichi snorted, not about to laugh.

"That – that has to be the most suicidal plan that I've ever heard."

"And like you're any better!"

He froze at the indignant retort, reminded of smoke and Japanese in the accents of New York. A scene from the rabbit-hole. Kuroba didn't notice or ignored it, though – moments later he was continuing his story.

"In any case," he said lightly, "my plan worked and then some."

"Don't tell me – snipers?"

He received a sardonic smile for his efforts.

"Yeah, snipers. That, and information."

"What!?"

"Don't get me wrong, they didn't think they were telling me anything. I simply. . . overheard through happenstance."

Shinichi snorted. "Yeah, right."

Kaito surprised him by shooting him a quick grin.

"You're right. But the important thing was that from that, I found out what it was that they made dad try and find before he decided that he didn't like dealing with them. I found out what they thought it could do. What they know about it, and how it's supposed to look."

"And?"

Kaito gave him a sideways glance, unreadable. Not Poker Face unreadable, just different.

"At the time, I wasn't sure whether they were talking about something imaginary or even if it was real but simply blown out of all proportions. There were some people I met around the place that made the second seem maybe unlikely, but meeting you like this makes me think that maybe they were talking literally."

"About what?"

And if Kuroba didn't stop talking in Kid-riddles soon, he'd scream.

"The Pandora Gem," said the thief in a matter of fact voice as he started to tick points off on fingers. "Gem within another gem; supposed to shine red in the light of the full moon; supposed to weep tears of immortality, too – though how a gem can weep is beyond me."

He blinked. The thief blinked back at him. He almost gave the other a mouthful about copying people, but instead found himself blinking again.

"That," he said seriously, "has to be one of the most insane things that I have ever heard."

Kaito gave him a Kid smirk.

"So I suppose that the empty plastic wrapper I saw sticking out of your jeans pocket earlier was just for show, and it was ketchup or something smeared inside, right?" The Kid Smirk wavered and toned down, became quite simply a sad smile. "Even when you're a living example of what's supposed to be impossible, you still stick you what you think is the truth. There's one difference between us there – you eliminate the impossible while I look for the improbable."

Shinichi blinked again.

"Well, that is one way of putting things mildly." Not all that bad, either. In even the ways that he and the Kid – Kuroba – were similar, even then they had their differences. "Though I find it hard to believe that this isn't just some trick you've fallen for."

Kuroba snorted. "You're still trying to eliminate the impossible, Tantei-kun. Now, while I may be as optimistic as the next magician, as a thief I gotta admit to being more than a little pragmatic at times. It doesn't help to have a plan blow up in your face without a backup," he added with a tilt of his head towards Shinichi. "Okay. Try to imagine a world where such a thing is possible. Think of the implications. Bad guys. Big gem that grants immortality. Bad guys meet big gem that grants immortality. Boom! Big bada boom!" The magician waved his arms about to illustrate the last point. "Not good, see?"

Shinichi stared. I somehow can't bring myself to believe that this was the guy I was chasing sometimes.

Kaito sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, making Shinichi start slightly at the seriousness of the gesture.

"Look," the magician-thief finally said, looking him straight in the eye. "Look at it this way, if you find it hard to believe me any other way. The way you are now – you're dangerous, right?"

That went without saying. He nodded, with a bare inkling of where this might be going.

"Some of that's because you're pretty strong, I know. And you're fast. Heck, you're basically a super-detective. But think of it this way – what if you weren't all that, but you still had that nifty healing ability I haven't seen but I've heard of? What then? You can't refute yourself. If you even only had gadgets but had that on your side, what would you be able to do? Worse – what would they be able to do?"

Oh. Oh. He hadn't thought of it that way before. Now that he was, he found that the idea of it was scaring him. He wasn't immortal – even what Haibara had found out only pointed towards extended longevity and a non-changing appearance – but he was darn close to it, and if what the Kid was searching for really was real. . .

"I get it," he said at last, carefully choosing his words. "If that thing really exists, it's dangerous – to them and to us. That's why you're after it, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Then. . . what are you going to do with it once you have it?"

Kaito started, surprised. "What do you think I'm going to do with it? They killed my dad for that! I'm going to make it so that no one ever has to get hurt because of that thing again. I'm going to destroy it. What? Did you think that I wanted to end up like you? I'm sorry if this hits a sensitive spot, Tantei-kun, but no thanks."

For a few minutes there was a tentative silence, then Shinichi let out a breath he didn't even know that he had been holding in.

"Good."

Good because that meant Kaito wasn't interested in the power – in any way. Good because that meant that Kaito was more interested in justice than revenge, even though by the seems of things he had more reasons than even Shinichi. Good because, no matter that he was a thief, the Kaitou Kid wasn't a murderer or even the worst of criminals, and Kuroba Kaito was a good person, so far as he had been able to see. Good because for some reason, he didn't want Kuroba to have to end up behind bars.

"Then that's it," he said finally, noting that the thief was looking at him strangely. "I'm helping."

The reaction was instantaneous, and not entirely what he had been expecting. Kuroba shook his head emphatically, almost jumping out of his seat as he did so.

"No! No way. They shoot at heists where they think I'm onto something! You investigate murders, but this is different, Kudo. You'd have to keep up with me, or lie to the Task Force, or something even worse. You'd be breaking the law!"

Shinichi merely raised his eyebrows at the outburst.

"I think that you're mixing me up with someone else," he said mildly. "Shrimp, smart, wears glasses that used to belong to his father and goes by the name of Edogawa Conan." The now-teenaged detective crossed his arms. "I am not that little boy any more, Kuroba. I can take my own risks. Now more than ever. Not to mention the fact that I have known for a very long time that sometimes, if you have to get to the truth, you can't always get there by legal means. Where else did you think that Conan's records came from?"

Kuroba's eyes widened, in small shock and sudden understanding, but he shook his head mutely.

"I'm still saying no. What if someone recognizes you and gets a lucky shot in? You can still die. It's bad enough having Hakuba chasing after me without you sticking your head in and actually actively trying to help!"

"Look," Shinichi growled standing up in one fluid motion that denied anything other than what he was. "You said yourself that you don't want to end up like me. So listen to me."

"But what if- "

Shinichi snorted. "I won't die easily the way I am now. So you don't need to worry about me."

"But even if what you're saying is true," Kaito said forcefully, so as not to be cut across again, "what if you got changed again? Pandora's supposed to give immortal life. We don't know- "

Shinichi laughed, once, with a hint of bitterness.

"What can it do to me? I'm already immortal, or as close to it as I'll ever be."

Moments passed, and neither spoke. The vampire detective sighed and went over to lean against the wall.

Footsteps of the stairs and the two were both on high alert – until, that is, Kaito's mother appeared in the doorway.

"I was going to ask you whether you needed anything, except Aoko-chan just arrived, and-"

"Hey, it's okay, mom. The two of us can go on down and Kudo here can meet Aoko."

The woman smiled, reassured by her son's smiles and the promise that they would be right down, not in the least that, at least for that moment, the two had seemed to be getting along.

Before either of them headed down the stairs, however, Kaito turned to Shinichi with a far-away, wistful look in his eyes.

"Nakamori Aoko," he said deliberately, "Does not know."

"About you, or me?"

"Both," said the thief. "And if you till her about me, I'll be shooting one thin piece of wood pulp up where the sun never shone. Got it?"

Shinichi smiled wryly and nodded once before following the thief back down the stairs to where the mother and the friend were talking. He doubted somehow that the other would go quite that far, but although they both had different reasons, he quite understood the sentiment.

--

The rest of that day was spent with the telling of tales, and the four got to know each other. Once Aoko left and the tension of her ignorance was lifted, Shinichi told his story in full, of how he had ended up as Conan, how he had coped and finally, his side of the case where everything had changed and turned his world upside down for a second time.

He didn't tell the other boy everything. He hadn't told anyone everything. He doubted even Hattori, who seemed to know more than anyone else, even without the panicked phone call, knew exactly what he had been through.

Kuroba Kaito the magician-thief didn't say anything, though, even though he must have known. He had just listened and nodded, sometimes with a joke thrown in, appropriate moment or not. Somehow, instead of being insulted, he had felt more accepted. It just reassured him that the thief really didn't care.

He had stayed for dinner, and left not long after that. Not only had he found himself needing the time to think all of this through on his own, but he had been getting increasingly confused, bemused and amused by the seemingly endless list of stories that Kuroba's mother told about their families – apparently, the two women had met during Kudo Yukiko's time under Kuroba Touichi, and both he and Kuroba listened avidly when the wife of the late phantom thief told of various incidents both humorous and serious when a previous detective turned author and magician turned thief had had their encounters.

It was certainly an experience to hear things such as these from the other side of the police tape. Definitely not one that he would have ever thought that he would have the pleasure of having.

For the next couple of days after Shinichi's visit to Ekoda, the two remained in contact. Sometimes for things that were related to cases or heists, with one asking for the specific knowledge of the other. Other times were for more innocent points of interest, yet in many ways the idea that they could be forming more than a simple alliance of forces was a stranger and more alien concept.

Yet at the same time, it seemed just as natural as the rivalry that came from being a detective, and a thief.

--

AN: This chapter was brought to you with references to - Inuyasha (the whole tracking theme), the Price You Pay series (specifically, the second chapter of :For Freedom), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (invitations ^____^), Relative Truth (various, including just how well they get on as well as the last few paragraphs and Kaito's hacking skills), not to mention the story that inspired this originally, Ellen Brand's Supernatural series. If you've read that one, then you'll understand what I mean. Kaito also makes a hint to towards the movie Fifth Element.

I may or may not add a missing scene where Aoko meets Shinichi. I dunno. Omakes two and three are upcoming, including appearances from Nakamori-keibu and Shinichi himself, and there may be a guest in number three. On another note, I've started a C2 for all 'Shinichi and Kaito are related' stories. I'm open to suggestion as to what to put in so long as it's a blood relation.

I'm scaring myself with how close to the climax and completion this story is. It's already a chapter over HPCS. Things will start to come to a head next chapter.