Dear readers,
I'm really thankful to those who kindly reached out and shared their thoughts.
It's really a blessing to hear your thoughts.
(Honestly, it really is.)
(Even if my words lost meaning –
Even if my heart lost its place to belong–
I will always be here –
Waiting for you –
Far away from here.)
Chaki-Keishi glared hard at the Kid note left behind by Mr. Tsukumo, the owner of a jewellery store. The elderly man had frantically arrived at his office, waving the note around, insisting he didn't want to host a Kid's heist. Instead, Mr. Tsukumo demanded for Kid to be arrested before the thief could create another disaster. The latest losses of Suzuki Jirokichi hadn't missed the sharp ears of Mr. Tsukumo, who feared the significant deficit in health and personal finance awaiting him at the end of a heist.
"I absolutely do not want that – that grim reaper in my store!" Mr. Tsukumo had said with such finality, Chaki-Keishi was taken aback. From Nakamori-Keibu's frequent complaints, Chaki-Keishi had understood that those who obtained a note from Kid had always been eager to host a heist. It served as a fantastic business opportunity to promote their products. The interviews they conducted from different media outlet and in-store video reports attested to that.
Turning down such a promotional opportunity with such fervour and revulsion, Chaki-Keishi could only presume that the owner's objection must have been a direct result of Kid's plummeting popularity.
Chaki-Keishi had spent roughly an hour and a half reassuring the store owner that, yes, his products will be protected – and no, Kid would not be getting away with it this time. (After all, they did have the necessary resources to catch him red-handed. . .)
Though Chaki-Keishi had kept the specifics regarding that particular detail in secret. After all, it was still kept confidential that they had a suspect in custody and a far likelier suspect in sight for an extensive investigation. (Once his team obtained conclusive evidence regarding Kuroba Kaito's exact involvement in the latest heist.)
Chaki-Keishi rediverted his gaze at the card. The typographic details were the same as the others Kid had sent over the years. The same font and poetic flowery that his team spent several hours decoding. It was only the childish drawing of Kid that was strangely missing from the card.
Normally, at this point, Chaki-Keishi would have wanted to hear Nakamori-Keibu's thoughts, and yet with the latter taken out of the case, the superintendent couldn't exactly ask for the inspector's professional opinion.
Especially since Nakamori-Keibu was a person of interest, who may or may not have been aware of the technicalities of this particular note from Kid. Not to mention the inspector posed a possible risk, influencing the direction of the investigation by providing false inferences that could potentially aid the pursuit of Kid's endeavours.
Chaki-Keishi leaned back on his chair and switched on the portable TV in his office when the remote almost dropped from his hand at the sudden sight of the digitalised image of the scripted card projected behind the reporter.
He clearly remembered his superiors ordering him against informing the media about Kid's heist after careful consideration, concluding to forbid his colleagues and subordinates from officiating the news. Yet despite their efforts, Kid's declaration of a heist made headlines, and the superintendent was keen to know who they had to thank for that. Silently, Chaki-Keishi watched the anti-Kid brigade flooding into the streets, holding up their decorative signs and demanding for Kid's heist to be cancelled.
Chaki-Keishi decreased the TV's volume once they were critiquing the Task Force's ethics for indulging a criminal's whims and their competency for failing to catch the thief for two decades, chanting in unison after their appointed leader:
("Kid's a criminal! Lock him up! Lock him up!")
Chaki-Keishi felt a headache pounding at his temple. He had been in favour of withholding information regarding the upcoming heist. Having had an inkling that any announcement of Kid's heist would cause such an outrage. The superintendent could already imagine the masses arriving at the mall, where the jewellery store was located, filling up the spaces in huge crowds, squirming past security and ducking underneath the Keep Out warning tapes. . .
Chaki-Keishi tried not to think about the confrontations that would ensue between the spectators and the officers. Instead, he switched off the TV and sent out a request for back-up. In case, these protestors showed up at the heist with a bunch of reporters.
Just like they showed up at the foot of their Headquarters with a bunch of reporters.
In hindsight, Chaki-Keishi had Suzuki Jirokichi to thank for that. Since his conference, journalists have pounced at any chance to besmirch their division and sow distrust within the hearts of the people regarding their competency.
Chaki-Keishi knew the news stations would be high in ratings once again tonight. It was a streak they would want to continue. But such success would only come at the expense of their Second Division, and Chaki-Keishi couldn't allow that. Restoring the public's faith in their division was a priority at the moment.
But these reports and news articles continued to foil their attempt to improve their public image. His colleagues were on the phone each day, taking up countless complaints regarding why these criminals were still roaming free – why the police should be deserving their taxes if they weren't putting in any effort working. . .
Chaki-Keishi massaged his temples, fatigued and exhausted. Normally, he would leave Nakamori-Keibu in charge to deal with the public outrage. The inspector had a knack for calming an agitated mob. But with the latter's departure, Chaki-Keishi had no choice but to deal with the matter himself. And taking on that task, Chaki-Keishi was increasingly intrigued how the inspector had managed to keep the complaints to a minimum when he was still stationed here.
It wasn't until Nakamori-Keibu had left that the phones began ringing every quarter of an hour. Chaki-Keishi had found himself constantly rejecting petitions and motions proposed by his subordinates to unplug every phone booth except the emergency line. Refusing to charge every non-emergency phone call, since such a deterrent would only continue fuelling the public outrage.
Instead Chaki-Keishi encouraged his subordinates to endure it, assuring the situation would dissipate soon.
After all it was only a matter of time until they caught a certain phantom thief.
(Meetings and partings continue to repeat. . .)
"I'm sure those present with us today experienced how ghastly it is to be losing loved-ones, families and friends, at the hands of criminals who continuously disregard the preciousness of life. And so, on that night Kid has proven himself to be an enemy of us."
Aoko half-listened to the replay of Suzuki's speech from the conference, purposefully played before their announcement of a new heist, sensationalised by the repeated video coverings of the anti-Kid brigade that was practically non-existent a few months ago when Aoko was still its only public member.
She couldn't help but snort at the irony. Just months prior, her dedication to cheer against Kid had earned her more than a fair share of puzzled looks and irritated glares. But now – once it was discovered that some explosives had been involved in the latest heist, suddenly everyone felt self-righteous cheering against him when moments prior he had still been their number one favourite outlaw. And whilst Aoko knew how serious it was, she couldn't help but wonder why anyone could feel betrayed when nobody should have expected any less from a criminal.
Rather, Aoko couldn't fathom how anyone could stay in denial as she gazed at the Kid supporters, gathering in groups and defending Kid's innocence as they took the streets – with one particular person blasting into the megaphone:
("He's not our enemy. He's a thief but he's never harmed anyone – to say this is the work of Kid is a whole misjudgement!")
Aoko rolled her eyes and walked off, heading back to her room where she was surprised to find Kaito.
He stood in front of her door, holding onto her doorknob as though he was contemplating the repercussions awaiting him once he stepped inside, even though it had never deterred him before.
Aoko cleared her throat, startling him enough to glance at her standing behind him, holding steadfastly onto her crutches, secretly unnerved as much as he appeared to be.
But even then Aoko steeled her gaze, choosing to confront him than ran away and dodge him for the rest of her life.
"Aren't you going inside?" she asked, stepping closer and reaching out for the doorknob when she noticed Kaito flinching from her sudden movement. Startled at his reaction, Aoko retracted her hand. It took a moment before she reached out again, slower this time, gently opening the door to her room and waiting for him to step through.
But Kaito remained hovering at the doorway, uncertain and hesitant. "I was sure you wouldn't want me coming in," he admitted after a moment of silence.
He wasn't wrong.
A part of Aoko still couldn't see him without the urge to slap him, but taking several weeks off to recover sorted out her emotions for the most part. She could see the situation more rationally now. Far more rationally than Kaito probably thought she did.
Aoko opened the door wider. "Come in," she told him, having already decided to face this uncertain future since she bore this scar that inevitably reminded her of that day.
But even as Aoko decided to confront her reality head on, Kaito still stood at the doorway, and she wondered whether this was another pretend performance from him, acting as though he was wary of her, not entirely trusting her advances as though she was only holding the door wide enough to slam it onto his face once he decided to step inside.
And thinking upon it, Aoko let go of the door and retreated into her room, knowing sooner or later, Kaito would come in on his own. And when he did, Aoko wondered whether she should be offended when Kaito couldn't quite meet her eyes.
"Look at me," she told him, watching him lift his gaze off the floor. His brows furrowing as though he couldn't quite figure out what was happening, seemingly having expected her to flip out and shout at him. But Aoko knew something like that wouldn't be productive. Especially since she had experienced first-hand how tight lipped Kaito could be.
But that still didn't mean Aoko would make it easy for him.
Aoko placed her phone on the drawer near her bedside, propping it up against the wall. Kaito's gaze lingered on it for a while before his hardened gaze fastened on her. But she ignored it, perceiving the darkened shade of his eyebags and the entirety of his form that seemed slimmer than she remembered. . .
"Haven't you eaten properly?" she asked, out of habit more than anything. But Aoko caught the instinctive twitch of his lips, curling up in mirth, undecipherable within the reflective shades of his eyes.
"I have," Kaito answered and after a moment he added. "Or at least, I tried."
"I see," Aoko averted her gaze and wetted her lips. Pleasantries had never been her forte, and even now she was wrestling with the subtleties that held her in a choke hold. Tight enough to force back the words she wanted to scream. But Kaito always had a knack for calming her. Even after a shouting match, things would spiral in his favour. Just because he was Kaito.
But not anymore.
Today, you're Kid, she reminded herself. Her archenemy. The symbol of evil against the mightiness of the law. The defilement of society that needed to be cleansed out of the streets and vacuumed into prison cells.
"What did you come here to do?" she asked, smoothing out the creases from her duvet, keeping an ear out for any sudden movements. But Kaito remained quiet and so still, Aoko rose her head to look at him. He stood at the same spot, listlessly staring at the floor, as though he didn't entirely know what he was doing here anymore.
After flaunting around as much as lies as he had, Aoko wouldn't be surprised if Kaito was lost and confused about the truthfulness of his desires that he constantly covered up with falsehood.
"Kaito," she called, snapping him out of his reverie when Kaito looked at her, as though for a moment, he had forgotten that she was here.
Kaito gave a noncommittal hum, as though they were in her living room, where she told him a story that he didn't listen to, as immersed as he was, scrolling through the articles on his phone that most likely detailed Kid's and his endeavours.
"What did you come here to do?" she repeated and Kaito averted his gaze, keeping his silence as the seconds ticked by. Aoko sat through the silence, waiting until she grew tired. "You didn't come to apologise, did you?"
"I wasn't planning on doing that."
"Good. Because I don't want to hear it," Aoko said, driving her fingers through her hair, exhausted. "Is that all?" she asked, pulling back the duvet from her bed, trying her best to crawl between the sheets without aggravating her abdominal injury as she struggled to lie on her side. Aoko must have appeared very much pitiful for Kaito to come and help her out. She felt one of Kaito's arm curling around her neck and the other hooking underneath her knees, flipping her over with such ease, Aoko wondered whether he had been practicing these movements.
(And knowing Kaito – he probably did.)
"Have you been watching me?" Aoko asked as she lifted her head for him to easily pull out his arm. Kaito gave another noncommittal hum and draped the cover over her shoulder, tucking her in like he had done so many times before. She watched him disappear out of her line of vision, and Aoko found her gaze trailing him as she gently rose her head, asking yet again, a little firmer. "Hey Kaito, have you been watching me?"
"Would you be angry if I said I did?"
Aoko wasn't sure whether she heard him correctly as quiet as his voice was, hovering between the stillness and his faltering breath. But Aoko knew she never saw him at the rehabilitation centre when she completed her exercises in secret. Kaito had always been good at hiding things. But Aoko never knew he was good at hiding himself too. And that realisation left her saddened. "So, you knew I was awake?"
"It wasn't hard to figure out." Kaito shrugged and she found that his smile seemed too sad to keep up the suave appearance he was going for. "But I know you wanted to get back at me, so I pretended I didn't."
"You're an idiot," Aoko retorted, not as much as angry as annoyed that her plan backfired and the silent treatment didn't unnerve him as much as it should've had. "You're fool, Bakaito. Why couldn't you have let me get back at you?"
"But I did," Kaito said, perking up. He placed his hand on his heart and she could hear the lies even before he opened his mouth. "You hurt me right here."
Aoko rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her lower abdomen, right where her wound was. "Yeah, and you hurt me right here."
Kaito halted. His eyes were as wide as saucers as she caught him off guard. "No, that wasn't me, Aoko." She heard the drop in his tone, vacant of the previous amusement it had, suddenly serious and sincere – just like Kaito. Even though she knew he was Kid.
"I know it wasn't you. That was just a stupid joke," Aoko said, looking at him as though he was stupid for taking it personal. "I know who shot me. I've seen him with my own eyes, you know." Aoko dropped her head back onto the pillow, her neck aching from keeping it cranked in a crooked position, and she waved her hand toward the vacant space in front of her, trapped between the side of her bed and the small space spanning toward the wall near the window. "Come here. I can't see you from over there."
"For someone you hate, you sure like staring at me a bit too much."
She heard the grin in his voice and for a moment she wished she had a mob to whack him over his head. "It's weird talking to someone I can't see, so get yourself over here."
"I'm still surprised you want to talk to someone you claim to hate so much."
"Kaito," she warned as she grabbed the notebook she kept on her drawer. It was technically an empty threat since he knew she would struggle too much to flip over to throw it with all her might. He let her know as much as he smirked, and Aoko realised, during these weeks of silence, she had completely forgotten how annoying he could be. "You're so infuriating, you know that?"
"Well, excuse me for trying to protect myself from an indictment." The sudden proximity of his voice startled her, and Aoko cranked her head higher, straining her neck as she searched for him from her limited view until she heard the familiar sound of her phone getting unlocked.
Aoko pushed herself up and gazed at her other side, peeking between the pillow and her shoulder, through the narrow gaps between the strands of her hair. She gasped at the sight of Kaito, casually sitting on the bed and browsing through her phone.
"Give it back, Kaito!" her cries fell on deaf ears as Kaito only responded by narrowing his eyes on her, as though he felt betrayed when he was going through her phone without permission. And so, Aoko did the only thing she thought reasonable.
Concentrating her weight on her right arm, Aoko pushed herself up and rolled over like she had practiced (and failed) many times before, tackling his back with her own. The move sudden enough to throw him off balance but not enough to make him drop her phone.
"Aoko should have never shared her password with you!" she yelled with her face twisted in pain, as she moved onto her stomach, trying to roll back to lay on her left side without much success. Kaito moved to prop her up again, helping her in her endeavour as she groaned, and seemingly he must have thought it was a great time to tell her:
"You shouldn't have done that."
"Shut up," she said, wheezing in pain. "You shouldn't have gone through my phone."
"Then you shouldn't have recorded me," he answered, looking at her as though she was stupid. "Did you honestly thought I wouldn't notice?" He pressed the button.
"Haven't you eaten properly?"
Kaito looked at her. "What did you think you were going to do with that?"
"What do you think?" she asked, once the pain subsided, making a mental note never to attempt that again, for her own sake rather than his. No matter how much he went on her nerves, the pain wasn't worth it.
Kaito thought for a moment – or rather he acted as though he thought for a moment. Aoko knew someone like Kaito already made up his mind regarding what he was going to say, no matter how long he was rubbing his chin.
"Right now, I am keen to think that—" he halted for a moment, for dramatic effect if anything. Aoko rolled her eyes. "You want to see me in prison."
"Oh no, Sherlock, I want to see you in handcuffs." Aoko snorted. "I'm not going to visit you in prison."
"Then I guess, I need to make sure I won't be arrested," Kaito concluded as he stood up from her bed and sandwiched her phone between his hands, squishing it until it vanished. "Naturally it would mean, I would have to confiscate this."
Aoko could barely believe it as her eyes widened. Her evidence was gone! "Bakaito – you thief!" she shouted as he headed for the door. "Give it back!"
Aoko cranked her neck, once again, stuck in that annoying position. She tried rolling over and suddenly found herself stiff waist down. Aoko threw off the bedcover and her eyes widened at the ropes tying her body onto the bed. When?
Aoko looked back at Kaito smirking at her from the doorway, cunningly and so depraved, she felt the heat spread on her face.
"You laid Aoko this way on purpose!" she screeched.
"Your fault for accepting my help," he grinned and slowly closed the door, so slowly, it only infuriated the more.
"You're insufferable! Insufferable!"
He opened the door wide, still grinning, as though he wanted to brand his mirth into her memories. "Glad to be off service!"
"GET OUT, KAITO!" she screamed. "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"
Kaito still hovered at the door way, peeking through the gap between the door and its frame, so amused, it enraged her even more.
"I SAID, GET THE HEL OUT!"
"Alright," he shut the door and Aoko breathed a sigh of relief. But Kaito being Kaito opened the door again and stepped foot into her room. "I went out—"
Kaito slammed the door shut lightning fast when she hurled one of her crutches at him. It clanged on the ground, and she didn't want to imagine what would've happen if that piece of metal hit him square on the face after she threw it with such strength. But a part of her trusted his annoyingly great reflexes that allowed him to escape her mop attacks so far.
Aoko sighed and placed her hand on her throbbing wound, finding herself even more exhausted than before. She figured Kaito must have taken the last remnants of her energy for her to feel so drained after their first interaction in so long. Aoko turned to face the side of the wall – the stupid side Kaito had faced her – when she saw the man himself staring at her with his chin propped up on her bedsheet.
Aoko screamed even as Kaito laughed, and her hand was already reaching for her pillow as she pushed herself up, muffling his laughter as she smacked his face with it. "You, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid man of a human being."
Kaito leaned back, catching his breath as he grinned at her. "But at least you're smiling aren't you?" Aoko threw the pillow at him, ignoring the way her lips had quirked up at his babyish behaviour. But Kaito still wasn't done when he caught the pillow and hugged it securely on his lap. "That's the expression I like best you know."
"You flirt," she mumbled, feeling her face heat up for a different reason, but she masked it up as anger as she glared at him. "I still want my phone back."
"Here," he gave it to her but Aoko realised it wasn't her phone. But a model that looked like hers. It had none of the scratches from their year-long scuffles.
She handed it back to him. "That's not Aoko's phone."
"I know," he said. "But it got everything you need."
"I don't want it."
"Won't Hakuba get suspicious if you show up without a phone?"
Aoko narrowed her eyes at him. "How do you know about Hakuba-kun?"
"Since I've known someone tampered with your phone," Kaito answered as he threw the new phone on her bed. "Use it until I fix it."
"No, don't do that. Hakuba-kun is going to get suspicious of me if you do," she stretched her hand out. "So, give it back. You're going to ruin my plan."
"What plan?"
"You don't need to know. Just hand me back my phone."
"And if I don't?"
"You're going to get Aoko in trouble," she answered, annoyed that she couldn't get anything passed him. "And if you care about Aoko, you wouldn't want her to get in trouble, do you?"
"You're right," he answered even though he still wouldn't return her phone. Kaito looked at her, and Aoko knew what that curious glint in his eyes was.
"No, don't ask me any questions," Aoko said before Kaito could even express his thoughts. "I let you keep your secrets so let me keep mine." She placed particular emphasis on that, knowing Chikage, she must have already informed her son about Aoko's little stunt at his mother's hospital room.
"Alright," he said and pulled her phone out of his pocket. "But I deleted the recording from your phone, and from your storage too."
"That's fine," she said, retrieving her phone. "But we'll have to record a new one."
Kaito gave her a look as though he couldn't believe what she said, and she looked at him as though he was stupid for not understanding her.
"I can't return empty handed," Aoko explained as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Because of a certain someone, I'm not a trusted person."
"If we record anything new, he'll realise how fake it is," Kaito explained. "Just tell him seeing me has infuriated you so much you forgot to press record. At least, everybody in your vicinity can attest to that, thanks to your blessed vocal cords."
Aoko snorted and placed her phone on her desk. "Kaito is a liar, and he is making Aoko into a liar too."
"Just wait until I make you into a thief."
She gasped and Kaito laughed. "Aoko should have recorded that!"
"How about I give you something else to record?" Kaito suggested for her sake if anything. "Since Aoko isn't a liar."
Aoko faced him, curiously. "Record what?"
Kaito smiled. His blue eyes twinkled as undecipherable as the day she first met him.
(The promise that you made that day, lay in broken pieces,
The red thread that tied us together, blurred and disappeared before my eyes.
But even so, what was left behind,
Was a single ray of hope from you.)