Hello everyone!
I'm back after (an almost) two-year break!
During that time, I have re-written the outline for this story and the chapters came to a total of 60 chapters!
As you can see the story will be a long ride, but I hope you'll see it through with me.
Also, I can only upload once a month for now. Please forgive me for being such a slow writer! ^_^;
Pushing away the fluttering curtains, Kaito Kuroba saw Aoko asleep on the hospital bed. It was strangely eerie seeing her still when she was usually in motion, bustling from room to room as she swung her trusted mop at him, having pushed her buttons too far after another aggravating remark about size of her physique. For a moment, he considered to throw another remark to nudge her in her sleep, even if it could possibly leave him to hang out dry on her mop, at the very least she was awake. . .
The bottom of her eyelash fluttered and Kaito held still.
The clock on the wall ticked by, and his heart slowed down once he realised her movement was miniscule and insignificant. Sighing, Kaito sat next to her. Weeks into her hospitalisation he had stopped thinking about the kind of expression he should muster when she would wake, or the kind of words he should string together to reduce her witness of him as nothing other than her tricks of her imagination and possibly induced by blood lost. However, having already coming to realise that swapping Aoko's account of events with a convincing version of his own was a strategic battle itself without a sure-fire way to win, especially if said opponent was already accustomed to side-eye his every word with a grain of salt.
"Just what made you suspicious?" Kaito asked. It was the same question that tingled in the back of his mind every time he sat at his desk in the early morning hours and documented any useful information broadcasted on the radio's news channel until the cat next door mowed for breakfast and he realised it was time to pack his bag for school.
But no matter how many times he glanced over his notes and switched the news channel on, nothing explained how Aoko had discovered his secret storage at the gallery when it had escaped the Task's Force notice until recently. If there was any truth to the transmitter that he planted in Nakamori's radio, then the Task Force's had only discovered his abandoned glider after searching through the wreckage.
Kaito wanted to dismiss it as luck, but it gnawed at him that perhaps growing up together has placed him and Aoko, somehow, on the same wavelength. As unlikely as it sounded, Kaito knew if there was even the tiniest possibility that there was truth to it then, Aoko must have had an inkling about his identity before she ambushed him.
Even if she had been previously sceptical, having seen him in action must have dispelled any doubt from her mind.
Knowing Aoko as well as he did, Kaito knew there was no recovering from that. in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she were to scrap his existence from her life once she woke up and viewed him as nothing other than the nemesis of her father, the figure of her daily nightmares, and another person who has managed to brand the inside of her heart with charcoaled ash and sizzle her with anger whenever she relieved the memory of his betrayal.
It was inevitable.
He played with fire and burned he got.
The life he had gotten to know for the last ten years went into flames along with the gallery that night, and Kaito doubted their friendship could be recovered from the slabs of blackened concrete that left a trail of ashes behind that summed up nothing other than these silent moments he spent sitting at her bedside, cherishing the closeness and familiarity before they would become a memory he barely remembered.
Gingerly, Kaito wiped the beads of sweat from her brow and swept away the strands of hair sticking on her forehead. Her temperature was still relatively high from her recent infection, and Kaito made a mental note to bring a cold compress if the fever persisted – that is, if she hadn't woken up at that time.
Aoko sneezed and Kaito pushed the sheets away from her nose, tucking it under her chin, realising that this be the first time he had seen Aoko vulnerable and defenceless, rendered unconscious by means that didn't involve sleeping pills.
Even when Aoko had caught the flu last year, she still moved about despite her feebleness – even if it was only the furrow of her brows when she reminded him that he had forgotten to bring her a bowl of porridge after he completed both of their homework.
But now here she lay – listless under the sheets as the afternoon glow dimmed and dusk settled across the sky, completely and utterly knocked out cold.
And whose fault was it except his own?
After loitering in the hospital for the last three weeks, Ginzō could locate his daughter's room even with his sleep-deprived brain and half-lidden eyes. He headed towards her designated area hidden behind a trail of curtains that he pulled back to step inside.
He noticed the young man slouching on the chair first, clad in uniform with his bag slumped on the floor. At this point, Ginzō didn't need to glance at the clock to know that the young man had been warming the chair for hours and therein lied no surprise; after all, both, his parent and childhood friend were tended here.
Ginzō, himself, felt like a ghost wandering the halls, visiting patient upon patient, and apologising profusely to each one of them and their families, as well as any other ear that held the police in contempt for their poor handling of the heist. It was routine he upheld each time before he inquired politely for clues and details about the perpetrators they might be remembering retrospectively.
So far, they have had received various tips leading up to nothing other than dead ends, and if this stalemate wouldn't end soon, Ginzō was sure he would pay the consequences by being scapegoated out of his job as a means to sedate the public's anger. Firing personnel after a critical and life-costing mistake was a tried-and-true move that not only allowed for appeasement, but equally facilitated the assembly of a new team to attempt another capture of Snake and Kid.
Whilst Ginzō didn't doubt the capability of the police force, they still weren't as Kid-proficient as he was and lacked the practical skill and experience to outmanoeuvre Kid in his criminal endeavours.
In the worst-case scenario, they too would be unable to catch neither of the perpetrators; burdened by the pressure from the watchful eyes of the public as they sharply followed their progress (or lack of thereof) during each news cycle.
Sighing, Ginzō gazed at the serene expression on his daughter's face and sat on the chair Kaito had vacated. Noticing the young man for the second time that evening as he stood at the bedside with a focused look, as though he expected his daughter to snap her eyes awake at any moment. . .
"How was school?" Ginzō said, not particularly caring for the answer. He had spoken with the intent to dispel the stifling air and ease into the conversation that troubled him since he first received the news in the afternoon conference at the police headquarters.
"Alright," Kaito replied.
Ginzō chosen not to comment on the grogginess he detected in his voice. Although, long hours alone by oneself is easily spent drowned in thoughts. Kaito sounded as though he had suddenly woken up after a long prelude of silence.
"And your homework?" he asked, taking a closer look at his daughter. The colour returned to her cheeks and her perspiration decreased, although he wasn't sure whether the latter was progress on her behalf or Kaito's as he eyed the handkerchief in his hand.
"Finished it."
Nodding, Ginzō removed his hand for him daughter's forehead. She was steadily getting better. "That's a relief."
Kaito hummed before he pushed off the wall and stretched, popping bones with a satisfying crack that had Ginzō frowning in concern.
"How long have you spent here?"
"Just about the usual?" the younger guessed as he picked up his bag, throwing another glance at Aoko when her hand suddenly twitched. With baited the breath, he stood still, and after a moment, Kaito exhaled. His lips twitching up into an uncanny half-smile, and yet after two weeks of the same ordeal, Ginzō could still not tell whether the slumping of his shoulders was a gesture of relief or disappointed every time a part of his daughter's body unconsciously twitched.
"Have you had dinner?" Ginzō asked, filing Kaito's uncanny smile into his mind for later analysis.
"There's plenty left-overs at home," Kaito muttered, throwing a glance at his direction, without meeting his gaze, and Ginzō thought that it was time to call him out on his bluff.
"What kind of left-overs last a more than a week?"
"Cereal," Kaito said, averting his gaze towards his daughter's hand. It twitched again.
"That's not a warm meal."
"Well, neither are cigarettes."
Ginzō sighed. Leave it to him to complicate easy matters. "I'll pay for dinner then. Kaito, there are things I need to tell you."
As expected, a curious glint lit in Kaito's gaze as he glanced up, staring at the inspector for the first time that evening.
"Is it about my mum?"
"I'm afraid so."
Kaito stilled for a moment, his fingers tightening on the strap of his bag. "I suppose you can't tell me here?"
"Technically I could, but I haven't had anything other than my pipe today. And I'm sure you haven't had much either."
"I don't think I can keep anything down," Kaito admitted at last, although Ginzō was sceptical at the truthfulness when he glanced at the sandwich wrapper inside the bin. Kaito's cheeks reddened when he followed the inspector's gaze which essentially set-in stone for Ginzō that daughter's childhood friend was indeed avoiding him.
"Kaito, if you're holding me responsible for what has happened at the heist then you have my deepest apologies." Ginzō admitted, knowing that apologies accounted for little regarding the unprecedented suffering that occurred at the heist. But at this moment he could not think of a single expression that could accurately convey how grievously the loss of lives and the injuries of the survivors had affected him, especially when it laid so close to home.
"It is with a heavy heart that I have to bear this news to you," Ginzō began, trying to ease into the subject with difficulty but found it impossible to beat around the bush. With a deep breath and a steeled heart, he shifted into his regular inspector-mode and got another unfavourable part of his job done.
"Unfortunately, your mother has been identified as a suspect. Whilst there is no apparent motif yet, the fact that there were no sightings of Kid other than hers is noteworthy enough to build a case against her."
Ginzō expected the younger to be shocked. Spluttering confusedly, perhaps. Astounded by their judgement to be accusing another victim of the heist, who was still receiving treatment after having been found injured on the scene. However, to the inspector's surprise, Kaito did nothing of that sort. Instead, he stood still and stared vaguely at something that Ginzō was certain did not entirely exist in front of him.
A part of the inspector doubted that Kaito even heard the entirety of his speech as out of it as he was. But he was certain that the younger would break out of his stupor once he heard this: "The investigators will soon request to speak with you. I hope you have been seeking legal counsel as I have advised you. I guarantee you the next months won't be easy."
Just as the inspector thought, Kaito lifted his face to look at him. His brows furrowing as though he could not quite grasp what he meant – however, whether his confusion stemmed from the accusation at his mother, or his colleagues sudden interest him, Ginzō chose not to elaborate. There was only so much information that he could share with a person linked to a case.
With a sigh, Ginzō directed his gaze to his daughter and felt the familiar twist in his gut. From across him, Kaito moved without another word. Ginzō watched him leave, hesitant on whether to offer him a ride or leave him to his thoughts for the night.
After brewing the question for a long minute, the inspector rose to follow him, deciding to let the younger choose for himself when he pushed the curtains aside, heading towards the hallway.
The person of his thoughts stood waiting for the elevator. Typically, Ginzō would have thought of it as nothing unusual. Considering the recent occurrences, it wasn't strange for Kaito to stand there, lost in thoughts. Rather, it was the dark glint he spotted in Kaito's gaze that concerned, particularly because it was a look, he had seen in a fair share of criminals that he had interviewed at the station. In his twenty-odd years as an officer, Ginzō never considered in his wildest speculation that the same calculated expression would be worn by his daughter's childhood friend.
Silently, the inspector contemplated whether the young man he temporarily recruited into the task force might be secretly up to something as he watched Kaito disappear inside the elevator.