"How is she doing, Doctor?"

"Not too bad given the circumstances, but whether she will wake or not will remain to be seen."

.

.

.

Another day passed by that Chikage spent sleeping on the hospital bed, keeping her secrets buried deep in her slumber. Silently, Ginzō sat next to her, having long since given up on the hope that she would wake and declare her son and herself innocent, when he had seen how complacent she was, choosing to lie asleep, holding steadfast onto her silence, even as the days of wait had faded into weeks that the actual criminal had spent free once the investigation ran its course and came to an indefinite halt.

At first Ginzō had been stumped by Chikage's reaction, fathomless at why she would risk her narratives to spun by detectives and reporters who merely dug into the feasible grasp of her past to sum up the entire figure of her being as nothing other than the widow of a renowned magician who may or may not have been Kid. But the more Ginzō had spent his wakeful hours contemplating his neighbour's existence, the more he was slowly realising why she held steadfast onto her silence.

And whilst Ginzō could understand her motif, he still couldn't bring himself to agree on her methods. . .

"Keeping your silence isn't going to be protecting your son, you know?" Ginzō said, knowing Chikage could hear him as much as he could hear himself. "I'm certain that whoever is after Kaito is posing a threat even now during every second you're feigning sleep."

No response.

Ginzō sighed, naturally forcing her awake wasn't going to be easy. "I'm already aware that you came to the heist out of love for your son. Once you found out that Kaito was pretending to be Kid, you were worried that he might be targeted, no?"

Silence.

"Isn't that why I have found you wearing Kid's disguise?" Ginzō said, voicing that very thing that kept escaping the boundaries of his logical functioning mind as he looked at the mother of his daughter's childhood friend, knowing that each individual action Chikage had taken brought her to this point. "You willingly disguised yourself to take the brunt of the attack instead of Kaito."

Ginzō was well aware that his theory relied on the premise that Kid still upheld his no-kill policy. If Kid had remained the same, then surely, he wouldn't have put any of his spectators in danger. The possibility that Kid would have taken a random, injured spectator and disguised them as himself for the sole purpose to pretend he had taken the brunt of the explosion was astronomically low. Especially, if considered, Kid would have been among the injured parties currently treated at the hospital, had he appeared and detonated the bomb himself, and yet no such person had been found on the elaborate background check they ran.

(That is, if Chikage wasn't Kid herself, but Ginzō had already taken the necessary measure to rule that particular possibility out on a visit long ago when he had asked one of his female officers to stretch her cheeks into nothingness at a time Chikage was, luckily, delirious on painkillers to feel any discomfort. . .)

Still, Ginzō had a hard time believing that even now Kid was continuously eluding them. In his straightforward matter of thinking, the inspector was convinced that Kid's unnoticeable stay at the hospital was the result of two possible outcomes.

Either the previous preposition was correct; and was Kid continuously eluding them, left ungraspable even within close proximity as a consequence of their current, faulty police operating system. Or Kid, quite simply, had never been in the hospital in the first place.

With Kaito's Kid performance and Chikage's appearance as a stand-in for Kid, Ginzō had been suspicious whether Kid had truly shown up in the first place. Participation-wise, Kid might have as well observed the strange turn of events in the comfort of his own home, rather than from the shadows. But with an ego as huge as Kid's, Ginzō was fairly certain that the magician would have brazenly attempted to outperform his impersonator as soon as he had witnessed Kaito's grand display of cards. But instead, the magician had strangely chosen to stand down and become a spectator of his own heist instead of its usual host. For Ginzō, who had studied Kid's persona for the last twenty years or so, there wasn't something right about that. At all.

For Kid to stand down willingly would mean that the magician had been informed about Kaito's stunt beforehand, and that realisation alone formed a bitter aftertaste in Ginzō's mouth.

For Chikage to have been aware of Kid's enemies—

For Kaito's involvement to have been leaked—

For Kid choosing not to react—

Ginzō knew, even without relying on his sharply honed hunches, that these three individuals were linked to a larger mystery – one that was slowly rising out of its ashes.

But even then—

Why go as far as protect the identity of Kid?

Even as an avid fan for magic shows, for as long as Ginzō could remember Chikage had never shown signs of being a Kid fan. As far as he knew, she had always prided that her late-husband performances were incomparable, always having been second to none no matter where he performed. . . .

The same late husband whose death strangely coincided with the disappearance of Kid eight years ago. . .

In Ginzō's experienced mind, this entire thought process could only led to a single conclusion; a conclusion he had hoped would not have been the outcome of his prolonged examination of facts and details that pertained the heist, and yet here it was.

Ginzō sighed and felt the air drain from his entire being as he slumped against his chair, wondering how he could ever bear the news to his daughter, who had lived her life idyllically, believing things appeared as though they were, even when – secretly – they did not. For her to realise now that the last ten years were nothing but a sham constructed by foolery and deceit born by a set of thievish ulterior motives would do more damage than simply crumble the floorboards that held up Aoko's entire existence.

And whatever the exact damage was, Ginzō had already reasoned he didn't want to see its impact on his daughter.

During his twenty years as an inspector, Ginzō had always lived as an officer first and as a civilian second, having always prioritised his official duty over filial responsibilities, but since the last heist, he had been wondering whether he shouldn't have done that. . . .

Perhaps, if Ginzō hadn't matters wouldn't have turned out this way. Had his younger self prioritised rearing his daughter; coming home early rather than overworking and earning his inspector rank that condemned him of being in charge of every Kid heist that he could have watched at home over dinner, instead of experiencing it first-hand on the scene. Perhaps then, Aoko and Kaito wouldn't have resolved around each other this much, and their private lives wouldn't have been intertwined to the point Ginzō couldn't distinguish their allegiances—but here they were, co-dependant on each other's reality. And with the truth close to being struck to pieces, Ginzō was certain his daughter would be shattering along with the mirror image of Kaito's false self, if she were to know the truth.

Ginzō wasn't sure where he first heard it, or how he came to relate to it on such a prominent level, but he was slowly but surely realising that sometimes believing and upkeeping an ill-timed illusion might have been better than having reality fall apart at his daughter's feet.

And so, for now, Ginzō decided to keep his silence, momentarily running away from reality even when its walls were slowly closing in on him, but even then, Ginzō knew that at this very moment no-one needed to hear his personal conclusion of his private investigation, neither the ramifications nor the implications.

Well, at least, no-one other than Chikage who held the remaining puzzled pieces regarding Kid's identity and the enemies plotting to harm him, and so Ginzō told her just as much and watched as the space between her eyebrows creased.

The puzzle pieces were slowly coming together, and whilst the inspector still wasn't sure whether he wanted to see entirety of the puzzle being placed, a part of him still wanted to see the truth they were hiding. And so, he pushed himself forward and left the room with a single declaration that caused Chikage to crunch up the thin sheet that lay underneath the surface of her palm into a fist.

"Slowly but steadily, I'm starting to figure out who's phantom is hiding behind your late husband's mask."

Aoko was startled to find a glimpse of her father passing by the corridor on her way back to her room, the clunking of a door echoing close behind him. She found herself heading to that direction, wondering she would find the person stationed there, whom she wanted to find ever since she first woke up.

The officers she saw guarding the door affirmed her suspicion. Surely, that's where Chikage-san had been kept. Aoko has heard that the woman had been placed in one the hospital's private patient rooms, but never had she fathomed for Chikage to be stationed near Hakuba's private room. Rather Aoko had expected her room to be more securely hidden away, although she could understand why it was thought to keep suspects and key witnesses in proximity since it would be easier guard them if the reporters ever succeeded in infiltrating the place. . .

It took its time but after much persuasion aided by the steady reminder of her father's name and police rank until Aoko finally found herself standing in front of Chikage; the very same person who had gotten hurt, unreasonably, much like herself, for reasons she was certain were quite similar.

"Hey," Aoko greeted, more casual than usual, tying to make herself more comfortable once the awkwardness settled in for having to hold one-sided conversations by herself in a room less spacious than her bedroom.

"When I first woke up and heard you were hurt, I didn't know what to think." Aoko started, struggling to sit at the vacant seat near Chikage's bedside once her hands ached from gripping her crutches for too long. "Back then, I thought we were on the same boat, but now I'm realising that we probably weren't. Since Kaito is your son, you probably knew, didn't you?"

Silence.

It didn't deter Aoko in the least, having long since noticed the unusual creases on Chikage's sheets, most likely from having moved a limb or two when she thought no-one was watching. Aoko threw a knowing glance at the elder woman, having done just as much when Aoko had thought her own visitors left for the day when she still kept up her charade at being asleep. . . .

"But even though you knew, you still held your silence. Don't you know that abetting criminals is a crime?" Aoko said as she placed her crutches against the side of the wall once she adjusted awkward angle of the seat, wondering why her father always liked to sit at the foot of the bed when she moved the chair, as carefully as she could, once she felt the strain at her lower abdomen—

"The same applies to you—haven't you feigned sleep for this same very reason?"

"I simply didn't want give any statements about things I didn't know about," Aoko explained, startled. Even with her eyes closed, Chikage cocked an eyebrow at her response, and the brunette glanced away, not wanting to entertain any of her ideas. "Although, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm pretty sure my dad figured it out, didn't he?"

Chikage remained quiet, and Aoko took her silence as agreement, well-aware that the mother of her childhood friend must have known what kind of situation this was since she first woke up and found herself guarded and detained by officers who were waiting to get their hands on her testimonial statement without risking her disappearance if she were to be Kid in disguise—

"What are you going to do?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Aoko said, long since familiar with the traps and tactics laid in conversation that she skilfully side-stepped from years of practice, "After all, you've been planning for this moment, haven't you?"

Chikage regarded the young woman, carefully, contemplating an answer the elder woman had already known ever since she heard her son had been caught in action by none other than his childhood friend. . .

Aoko cocked an eyebrow as Chikage bid her time, wondering and thinking, and thinking again, even though the answer itself made its appearance ever since Aoko first stepped into her room. . .

They sat in silence, unwilling to release the latch of their drawbridge that kept their thoughts in check, but even then Aoko was certain Chikage would dropped hers first, pressed by none other than the sinking realisation that she was facing the very person whose testimony could infringe upon Kaito's entire future. . .

And after a moment—

Her drawbridge fell.

"No, that's not true. . ."

Aoko frowned at the obvious attempt at denial, and held herself back from asking, "Is that the best you could come up with?" as she simply said, "How's so?"

Aoko waited even as the reply never came, and slowly she was realising that Chikage much rather held her silence than reveal anything.

Or at least so she would have wanted her to think.

"If you're not going to speak then there's point of me being here, you know? There are plenty of other people waiting to speak to me at this point."

Chikage's expression hardened at the tiny threat Aoko embedded to keep the lies and deceit at bay that would surely topple over the surface at any moment now. . .

And after a few seconds—

There it was.

"It's more complicated than you think—" Chikage started, hesitant and uncertain. "And it's not exactly something I should be telling you—"

"Would you rather tell this to the police?" Aoko asked as she glanced behind her, hearing the turning of the knob and the creaking of the door, opening, as a pair of officers stepped inside. "Can I help you?" she asked, watching them slowly approach the bed, staring at the woman feigning sleep, once again, before they rested their gaze at Aoko, strict and unrelenting.

"Were you two talking?"

"No, I was talking to myself."

"I distinctly remember hearing another voice—"

"No, that was me just speaking for her," Aoko said, wondering whether they would believe her if she suddenly said she was trying to channel the patient's spirit. But then she thought citing the nurses from her ward would be much more convincing. "Talking to comatose patients is good practice, you know."

The officers gave her an odd look before they left the room; but not before leaving the door slightly ajar, seemingly too alerted, and so Aoko decided to call it a day.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she whispered, rising from her seat, slightly unsatisfied for having to leave so early, but Aoko knew as long as the officers were listening, she would never have the chance to know why Chikage had risked life and limb for a heist, that couldn't have been possibly more important than her own life, especially since the officers would most likely deport the mother of her childhood friend into a cell far away from her reach once they ascertain their inkling that their recent suspect was, in fact, awake, and spend countless hours interrogating her as result.

Aoko reached out to grasp her crutches when she noticed that Chikage was staring at her, not ready to let the conversation go.

"Does that mean you won't tell your father?"

"I'm the daughter of a policeman. What makes you think I wouldn't—catch the ones who did this to you?" Aoko added, loud enough for those outside to hear her. "I promise you, my father will lock Kid behind bars, once and for all."

From behind the ajar door, Aoko could hear the officers mumbling quietly between themselves:

("I didn't know the inspector's daughter was crazy too…"

"She's the inspector's daughter, what did you think?"

"Shush, she can hear you – what if she tells on you?")

Whilst Aoko was rather glad that they weren't catching onto their conversation, a part of her couldn't help but feel bothered by their inferences, after all what part about her and her father had ever been crazy?

Aoko suppressed the urge to swing the door open and give the officers a hefty piece of her mind, instead she re-directed her attention toward Chikage, who had a couple of cents to throw herself on another topic entirely. . .

"I'm sorry—it was never my intension for you or anyone to get hurt—please believe me."

"I believe you," Aoko said. "After all, neither you nor Kaito would have ever intended to lose your precious information base that you carefully nurtured during all these years—"

"No, no, no, that's not true—"

"Of course, it's not," Aoko agreed. "After all you haven't spent the last ten years leading me by the nose. Just because I was the daughter of a policeman."

"No, that's not what happened—"

"Don't lie to me," Aoko interrupted, having had just about enough. "Why else have you left Kaito with me for the last ten years? Wasn't it to squeeze every ounce of information from me and my father as you planned and prepared every heist—"

"Good gracious, no!" Chikage exclaimed, finally dropping her façade as she pushed herself up, leaning forward, carefully shielding her weight from her casted arm. "When Kaito told me made another friend from the neighbourhood, I didn't know it was you—I didn't who you were. I swear it was simply coincidental!"

"So, you're telling me, you happily reaped the benefits of having me around after you found out who I was—who my father was," there was something indiscernible about the shade of her eyes when she gazed at Chikage. "Just what made you think that would be okay?"

"Then do you think it would have been better to chide a six-year-old Kaito into staying away from you for reasons that didn't even concern him?" Chikage challenged, sinking back into the bed once she grew weary from her sudden display of movement after having been bedbound for a month.

"So, you reasoned as long as I remained ignorant it wouldn't pose a problem." Aoko concluded, voicing the same conclusion she reached at the end of each and every imaginary debate she has had ever since she first woke up on an unrelentingly uncomfortable hospital. "And once Kaito found out—he thought so too, didn't he?"

Chikage watched as Aoko rose from her chair and struggled toward the door; but instead of alerting the officers outside as Chikage had suspected, Aoko slammed the door shut and locked it.

"What do you plan on doing—"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm keeping you hostage." Aoko asked as she headed toward the window. Outside a bunch of reporters were loitering, looking for a scoop that they would definitely find inside this room when the officers outside stirred up a commotion, trying to enter this room once they realised the door has been locked from the inside. . .

"You can't—"

"I can," Aoko said, glancing at her from over her shoulder, wedging one of the windows open. Even as little as it opened, it was still wide enough to carry her voice outside, and Aoko knew Chikage must have realised what she was threatening to do.

"You wouldn't—"

Aoko didn't answer as she capped her hands around her mouth. "I KNOW WHO KID IS!"

Outside, the officers suddenly banged on the door, calling for her to open up as they repeatedly yanked on the doorknob. But Aoko paid little attention, much more occupied by the reporters outside the window, scurrying out of their hideouts in search of her voice that emanated from nowhere.

And much to Chikage's horror, Aoko parted her lips once again—

"I KNOW WHO HE IS!"

The banging increased in volumes along with the frustrated curses from the officers that were calling for nurses left, right and centre to come and open this forsaken door.

Chikage sat up aghast, her voice barely reached the threshold of a whisper, suddenly shaken and shocked at the person suddenly standing in front of her. "Stop it, Aoko. I'll apologise as much as you want me to, but please, please, stop this."

"Why?" the young woman asked, looking at her with an expression Chikage had never seen before. "Don't you like knowing what's it like to have your life dangled at someone else's fingertips?"

"No, I never—"

"Even though you held my life in the palm of your hand?"

"No, I—I'm sorry," Chikage breathed at last, not knowing how to resolve the situation anymore. "I'm sorry, Aoko, so please stop this—"

"No, I can't stop anything I haven't started. All of this is nothing but the results of the actions you have taken, remember?" Aoko answered, as stoic as she could, even though she was mildly bewildered at how easily Chikage threw all pretences out of the window in one fell swoop despite having held onto her silence so steadfastly for weeks-on end. For her to easily to throw in the towel could only mean a single thing—

She wasn't doing it for her own sake.

And most likely, even trying her best covering up for someone else. . .

And since, Kaito had supposedly only found out recently, then – for argument's sake only, Aoko figured it could only be one other person whom Chikage was desperately trying to protect—the only other person, who had been around at a time Chikage had already known Kid's identity, ten years ago, and Aoko had an inkling it was the same person who had been hiding behind the fluttering white cape ever since then.

The only other person who should have already been long dead by now.

Aoko glanced at Chikage, puzzled, clearly remembering the lowering of his casket and the yearly grave visits she trudged along on every anniversary. . .

Surely that couldn't been a lie? Right?

.

.

.

The door burst open.

An entourage of officers stormed inside. They fastened their eyes on Chikage, fast asleep on the bed before they searched for the girl with the skies in her eyes and the earth on her hair, who was strangely no-where to be found.

Puzzled, the officers left the room, scratching their heads, deciding unanimously to leave their report card blank for now, fearing the repercussions they might face for writing absurdities on legal documents that might come to haunt them later when a specific inspector was to read them, known by all for his irritant temper and no-nonsense attitude.