Disclaimer: "Detective Conan" belongs to Gosho Aoyama, and "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" belongs to Naoko Takeuchi.
This is an alternative story to my other fanfic "Encounter in Venice" and one of the possibilities of what could have happened if Ai had taken the antidote before Shinichi brought down the Organization.
Thanks a lot to my friends and betas Rae (Astarael00) and SN1987a and the Aicoholics on LiveJournal, without whom I would never have started this fic.
This chapter has been betaed by aritzen (SN1987a), who hasn't only kept me motivated for years but is even betaing the long fic now that it has ended. I can't thank her enough!
FS
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Ghost at Twilight
(edited version)
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The house where I live...
The house where I live is a building of three one-bedroom units, each with a large balcony connecting the bedroom with the living room. My landlady and her husband occupy the first floor, their daughter Reika—an archaeologist who is always abroad and whom I've never met—the top floor, and I the second floor.
Three years ago, on the way to the private hospital in Juuban, to which the Professor was admitted after his accident, the azalea shrubs and the two cherry trees adorning the entrance of the house caught my attention. Preoccupied with the Professor's condition at that time, I didn't care enough about the sight to ponder the reason why it caught my eyes. Two months later, however, when I spotted the house with the azalea shrubs and the cherry trees again in an advertisement while searching for a new place to live, I felt strangely affected by the coincidence. Still, I wasn't sure whether I really wanted to live in Juuban again.
The rent was, thanks to the Professor's foresight, a minor issue. After he passed away, I learned that he had bequeathed all of his inventions to Kudo and the rest of his personal belongings and his property to me, much to my surprise, as I would never have expected him to leave a will at all. While I was wondering whether I should keep the house exactly as it was before the Professor's death or remove his stuff from my sight so that I could get accustomed to the thought that he was no longer there, Fusae-san contacted me and asked me to help her find a house in Beika. I immediately suggested that she move into the Professor's house, thinking that the Professor would have liked the idea. Thus—and despite (or rather because of?) Kudo's weird offer to stay at his place—I resolved to exchange Beika for another district of Tokyo.
I was still wondering whether or not I should go and have a look at the apartment in Juuban when Kudo called and informed me that a lovely married couple—old friends of Hattori's mother—were looking for an uncomplicated and well-behaved tenant, having had unpleasant experiences with the previous one. The price of the vast one-bedroom apartment they offered was still negotiable if I agreed to move in right away. Coincidentally, their apartment was the same apartment I had seen in the advertisement, which practically settled it. Whenever I think back, I can't help feeling that it was not me who found the apartment but the apartment which found me.
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"It's hard to believe you've already been living here for three years," remarks Kudo, who has just returned from the bathroom.
I let my eyes roam about the vast living room, trying to take in the minimalistic elegance of the naked green walls, the bar, the sofa, the coffee table, and the TV as if I were looking at the apartment for the first time.
"Why? It's spacious this way. I have all I need. I could even get rid of the TV since I haven't switched it on in months."
"I always thought you liked personal and decorative things: curtains, paintings, flowers, photos... But there is nothing like that here, not even one photo or any of the small plush animals you liked so much."
I raise my brow at him.
"Did you think I was girly?"
He chuckles at the thought.
"I wouldn't put it that way, but the Professor's house did look a great deal nicer after you came. Where have the curtains gone which were still here the last time I visited you? And where do you keep your books now?"
The last time he "visited" me was my last birthday, which I celebrated by switching off my mobile phone and staying in the library until it closed. When I went to bed that night, I discovered his present on my pillow: a lavender-coloured handbag and a birthday card telling me that he had left to catch his train to Osaka where—so I surmised—Hattori was probably waiting for him.
Strangely enough, what really irked me wasn't the fact that he had dared to break into my apartment but that he had given me a handbag, which proved—once again!—that he had misunderstood me and taken my jokes seriously when he wasn't supposed to. Moreover, it was the type of present he ought to have given Ran. It was the same when he offered to let me stay at his place, unconcerned about what other people would have thought if I had really agreed to live there. He had done such things before, when we were still Edogawa and Haibara, giving me a necklace he must have bought on a whim because he needed a last-minute birthday present. Or did he do it because I once, thinking of Ran who always got various knitwear from him as if she were his mother, said that a girl would like to receive a necklace for a change? Despite his obvious genius, Kudo can be unnaturally dense when it comes to communication in general and communication with women in particular.
"I've given most of my old books away, and the few books I still own are in my bedroom, along with personal things like letters and photos," I inform him. "Don't even dream of ransacking my bedroom when I'm not looking…! I only make myself comfortable there because I never have any guests here. Well, and all the curtains and the plush animals are in my wardrobe so that they don't gather dust. Seems my laziness takes over my comfort-loving side when I'm alone."
He strolls over to the bar and ensconces himself next to me. Illuminated by the seven lamps, which I had paranoiacally installed in my living room when I moved in, with his tousled hair and an unfamiliar five-o'clock shadow on his chin, he appears older and more haggard than I expected him to look after taking the antidote. In a few years he will look exactly like a modern Japanese version of Sherlock Holmes, I think in amusement. All he needs are a pipe or a cigarette and the trademarked deerstalker.
"Perhaps you need a husband who does all the housework for you," he suggests all of a sudden. "That way you can decorate your apartment without thinking about how much of a hassle it would be to keep it clean and cozy."
"That basically means I ought to marry a woman." I sigh. "Have you ever met a man who is good at doing household chores?"
"Oh, I've known a few although most of them were either the victims or the culprits of my previous cases. I don't know whether that had anything to do with their housekeeping skills, though."
"I hope not. I've come across enough murderers for one lifetime. Apart from that, I need someone who can live up to all of my other expectations. I have quite a few when it comes to my future house husband!" I might as well emphasize the celebrity attitude which I, according to Kudo, always display without noticing.
He rolls his eyes, once again taking me seriously when he is not supposed to.
"I'm sure there are a few men—oh well, very few men!—in the world who can meet even your standards. But since it's a universally known fact that nobody is perfect, I fear you'll have to overlook quite a few weaknesses in a man to find one with all the good traits you're looking for."
"And what if I'm absolutely not willing to? You know, maybe it's better for me not to decorate my apartment at all. From all the men I've met until now, I've arrived at the conclusion that having a husband is a luxury I can do without."
He laughs, handing me two cups as the water is boiling.
"I admit I can't cook. But even I can make myself useful when it comes to household chores."
"Too bad I can't marry you, can I?" I joke and immediately regret it when I see his bewildered face. There is definitely something wrong with me tonight. Only five minutes after my irritation at his tendency to take my jokes literally and to misread my intentions, I unthinkingly blurted out things which any man I know would misinterpret as a flirt. To prevent him from saying something obvious and humiliating like, "No, you really can't!" or, "You know I'm going out with Ran!" (Kudo's stupidity is at times immeasurable!), I continue in my most matter-of-fact voice: "Green, vanilla flavoured? Or is it too late for that?"
"Anything is fine for me as long as it isn't coffee."
Green tea might impair the effects of APAH, too, if he drinks them together, which is why it would be a good idea to swallow APAH first, I suggest as I hand him a glass of water with ten APAH-capsules, the only remaining ones I have left.
"Thanks," he beams and downs everything in one gulp.
Offering him a cup of tea, I take another for myself and walk over to the sofa, where he joins me. The confusion between us gradually fades away after the first sips of the fragrant tea, much to my relief; and we spend a few minutes beholding the patterns on our tea cups in comfortable silence until he fishes out a playing card from his jeans pocket and puts it on the table.
"I found this under the bench where you slept. Is it yours?"
The ornate Ace of Spades looks similar to the card Kaito has given me and undoubtedly belongs to the same set. However, it's clearly the Ace of Spades, not the Queen I expected, unless...
I flip the card and there it is, the Queen of Spades! How could I have naively believed that Kaito had picked the wrong card? The realization that it might not have been an accident at all disappoints me for no logical reason.
"If it's not yours, I'm going to keep it then," Kudo dryly remarks and grabs the card.
"It's mine!" I protest, snatching it out of his hand. "Thanks for returning it to me."
"So, unless you've discovered your vocation as a magician, what are you using it for?"
"It's a lucky charm. It's not like I really believe in it, but I like it." I flip the card to and fro. "It's pretty and stylish, and I'm sure I've never seen the design before!"
"It's one of Two Lights' comeback merchandise," Kudo remarks. "On the backs of the two cards, which Kuroba removed when he glued them together to prevent the double-faced card from appearing visibly thicker than normal cards, you could have seen Two Lights' silhouette in front of Tokyo's skyline."
"He told me he is having his debut at Two Lights' tonight. Perhaps the double-faced cards are a part of his tricks," I think aloud and could have bitten off my tongue the moment I said it. Kudo, amused that I've fallen into his trap so easily, throws me a victorious look.
"So that's why you absolutely didn't want to go to Two Lights' with me: Kuroba is there!"
"I don't feel like sitting there with both of you. You two always had this love-hate rivalry-thing going on, making everyone else feel like the fifth wheel next to you."
"I'm glad we didn't go," he says instead of protesting, and smiles at me. "I prefer being here with you and drinking tea to suffering at Two Lights' with Kuroba and a horde of Three Lights fans—sipping at an overpriced cocktail while my headaches are gnawing at me."
I smile without responding, wondering whether he has noticed that the way he said it implied that what made a difference for him was actually APAH and not me. Either gallantry doesn't come to Kudo naturally or he simply enjoys paying me backhanded compliments. Anyhow, I'm not in the mood to bicker with him.
"Don't you think it's strange that Kuroba gave you the Ace and the Queen of Spades as a lucky charm?" he asks between two sips of his tea. "Don't both of them foretell rather negative things?"
"When it comes to cards, it's all according to your interpretation." I wave his comment off with a dismissive gesture, amused at the thought that perhaps Kaito did pick the wrong card. "I doubt that a double-faced card can change my life, but I like it nonetheless."
"It certainly has a sentimental value," he says quietly, thoughtfully.
I don't reply, not because I'm trying to avoid the topic but because I myself don't know whether the card has any sentimental value to me. Kaito has sent me other cards before, which were usually drawn by himself and arrived on special occasions. Even though I keep them in a box because I like them too much to throw them away, I usually don't feel the need to look at them again, much less carry them with me. I've ceased to see a sentimental value in material things long ago.
And yet tonight I feel strangely attached to certain places, things, and people, as if the unnatural twilight and the stranger I met had reawakened some infantile feelings in me. I know I should leave the sofa to mix APAH so that Kudo can leave as soon as possible, but, for some strange reason, I feel reluctant to let him go. If I didn't know myself better, I'd believe that I'm trying to lengthen my time with Kudo, to stretch the hours I can spend with him into infinity as if our time together were a magical rubber band in one of Ayumi-chan's shoujo manga. And why? Just to make up for the one special sunset we could have spent together but missed? A ridiculous assumption when it comes to myself, who has spent her whole life studying the arts of staying detached and letting go.
"How did you know it's Kaito who gave me the card?" I ask instead, without bothering to call Kaito formally by his family name since I feel that I can no longer continue this futile game of hide-and-seek.
"Who else would give you a double-faced card?" The corners of his lips curve up although he is keeping his eyes on his empty cup. "I only didn't expect that you're still seeing him."
"I'm not. We ran into each other while I was waiting for you. It's actually the second time such a thing has happened although you didn't send him as replacement for yourself this time."
"I didn't send him the last time either," Kudo gloomily says, confirming my suspicion that he did see Kaito and me at Furuhata's two years ago; and yet I can't tell why he hadn't shown himself that evening if that was the case.
"How did he find my apartment and how come he knew it was my birthday? He told me he had learned it from you."
Which is absolutely not true, Kudo protests. On my birthday (and according to Kudo's version of the story), they met by accident at the police station, during one of those difficult and practically unsolvable cases in which all witnesses were unreliable and all substantial evidence gone. A young woman who was recovering from her coma had died because someone had pulled the plug to her life support system. Incidentally, the surgeon in charge of the victim was Dr Mizuno, the same who had attended to the Professor three years ago. Remembering that Kudo was a renowned detective, she gave him a call and asked for help. He soon discovered that she had withheld important facts about the case from the police, thinking that she might have been mistaken and fearing that her witness account might ruin an innocent person's life. Kaito, who was an acquaintance of both the victim and the suspects, happened to have visited the victim a few hours before she died. Therefore Kaito, too, had been called to the police station to give his witness account before Kudo arrived.
"So he was one of your suspects? Or did you actually work together to solve the mystery?" I ask in amusement. Kaito and Kudo seem destined to get in each other's way.
"Neither, he wasn't a suspect—he didn't have a motive but a solid alibi. Dr Mizuno and a nurse recalled that the victim was still alive after he left. Five minutes after Kuroba left, the oldest brother of the victim—one of the suspects—entered the room and stayed there for half an hour. Only ten minutes and thirty seconds after Kuroba left, Kuroba arrived at Hakuba's place to help Hakuba renovate his apartment, according to Hakuba. Kuroba was still painting the walls when he was ordered to the police station to give his witness account. A perfect alibi, which Kuroba wouldn't even have needed because he didn't have any motive at all."
"So he wasn't your suspect. But I gather from your words that he didn't assist you either."
"No, he wasn't very helpful, not that I'd have expected him to be. Anyway, he remarked that I seemed to be rushing through the case, so I told him I was in a hurry because I was visiting you."
He said it so casually, as a matter of fact, that I suddenly feel piqued by his nonchalance. Leaving the sofa to mix APAH at the bar, I can't help but remark on the way, "But that doesn't really explain why you absolutely had to tell him I was going to celebrate my birthday with you."
"I didn't know you'd have minded it. Are you ashamed of celebrating your birthday with me?" he asks with a look of bemusement, unwittingly rubbing salt into my wound.
"No, not really."
As though a pair of curtains had been pulled back to show a hidden closet behind the wall, the reason for my frustration has been revealed to me in all of its glorious stupidity. What's so special about a private birthday party once a year? I've treated it as if it had been a secret love affair for fear that other people could have misconstrued my behaviour if they had known about the little promise I gave Kudo three years ago. The intimate nature of it had surprised me myself the moment I said it aloud. I ought to have treated it lightly, telling everyone else about it as if it hadn't been anything special to me, as if it had only meant to be a reunion of old acquaintances trying to stay in touch after they parted. And above all, I should thank Kudo's forgetfulness and busy schedule for releasing both of us from what would have been an awkward long-term commitment.
He sighs.
"Let's put this straight: Kuroba already knew your address, the date of your real birthday, and the fact that you didn't celebrate it even before he talked to me. It seems he had done a lot of research on you since the goodbye party in Osaka. I suspect he even managed to steal a look at your particulars by flirting with a secretary at university. When I said I was going to visit you, he immediately accused me of two-timing Ran. I told him I wasn't two-timing anyone and that we only made a deal to celebrate your birthday after I deleted the files on you at Pandora's Box. I suppose he decided to visit you right then, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't leave before finishing the case!"
My anger vanishing, I almost feel sorry for Kudo, who was too innocent to be a match for Kaito with his an uncanny sense of when and how to push other people's buttons to get what he wants.
Since Kaito was free to leave whenever he pleased after giving his witness account, he was gone in no time, Kudo continues. Kudo went to the hospital since he had yet to figure out a few details of the case. Before my inner eye, I can see Kaito strolling along the streets, whistling and looking out for flower shops on the way to my apartment—and it strikes me once again how inconsistent and fickle people (Kaito and Kudo included) can be. How funny that Kaito had been so eager to pursue me just to return to his childhood friend in the end.
Kudo has followed me to the bar and is now watching my hands attentively while I'm filling the capsules. He too, is behaving strangely today even though I can't say what really bothers me about him. Perhaps—so I keep telling myself—he is only a little tired and subdued, which is natural considering how much he works. Any person with a less robust constitution would probably have died from lack of sleep and APAH-misuse long ago.
"Say, Haibara, have you ever heard the story of the ghost at twilight?"
I stare at him in amazement, wondering whether his question has only been part of my overactive imagination.
"Excuse me? I haven't been paying attention..."
"It's nothing," he says dismissively. "My brain isn't functioning properly these days. Must be either a side effect of your painkillers or the lack of sleep."
"Can't you simply repeat what you just said instead of insulting my painkillers?"
"Sorry... I just wondered whether you knew a ghost story." He looks almost embarrassed. "It's only something someone told me a while ago, nothing important... Let's just forget what I said!"
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