Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
Warnings: Character death, graphic violence, blood, language, euthanasia
A Violation of Ethics
By Taliya
There was a reason Kuroba Kaito absolutely adored the Western holiday of Halloween.
It was the one night anyone and everyone could dress up as whatever they wanted.
It was the one night where people were allowed to believe in the supernatural without being laughed at.
It was the one night where he could relax and be seen as who and what he truly was: a born vampire.
It was the one night in which Kaito could take off the talisman that hid his natural features from the world: namely, his crimson irises with vertically elongated pupils, his deathly pale skin, and his long, sharp fangs.
Tonight was particularly special for Kaito and a grin curled his lips, unintentionally revealing his abnormally pointed upper canines.
Tonight was a KID heist.
The full moon shone brightly down upon the Beika Science Museum, its cool serenity a stark contrast to the swarm of activity occurring within the various galleries of the museum. Kaitou KID laughed brightly, leading a merry chase through the hallways as Division Two officers trailed after him. He hopped nimbly over a net trap that the officers had set beforehand, and his pursuers failed to stop in time. The phantom thief slowed and spun lazily on his heel, observing with a cocked head the hamstringed bunch of policemen suspended midair.
"KID," Inspector Nakamori growled from somewhere amidst the men hanging within the net.
"Better luck next time, keibu," the thief said consolingly, jerking to the side in order to sidestep the soporific dart that would have struck the back of his neck. "And that wasn't very nice, Meitantei," he admonished gently, twirling on his heel to face his rival.
Twenty-nine-year-old Kudou Shinichi stepped out from the shadows of an adjacent hallway, smirk firmly in place as he snapped the upright watch face back into place and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "Like you ever play nice yourself, KID," he retorted.
The thief staggered back dramatically, clutching his heart. "You wound me with your cruel words," he moaned before he straightened up, grinning with more warmth. "It's good to see you back to your actual self, Meitantei," he murmured, quiet enough to not be heard by the hanging policemen.
Kudou smiled. "Thanks—it's good to be back." The detective had spent the last four years of his life de-aged by ten years and forced to live under the alias of Edogawa Conan.
KID smirked, showing off his dental cosmetics. "No dressing up tonight, Meitantei?" he asked, crimson eyes flashing mischievously.
"I've worn enough disguises to last me a lifetime, thanks," the detective replied with a snort, and the thief understood.
Instead of vocalizing that thought he simply sung out, "Boring!" and dropped a smoke bomb to hide his escape method. He heard coughing and sputtering behind him and chuckled quietly to himself as he banged through an emergency exit stairwell and sprinted upwards, his natural speed and strength lending itself to him almost flying up the entire flight of stairs in a second. He had only to exit to the roof when he heard another echoing bang from a door far below. Meitantei, he thought, you never cease to disappoint.
KID emerged on the roof of the building, a grin on his face as he took a deep breath—
—and snarled thunderously as pheromones wafted into his olfactory receptors.
Someone, the thief thought, fury brightening the crimson luminescence of his eyes to sharpen his already keen night vision, is hunting. His teeth elongated instinctively in preparation for a fight, pricking his lower gums and drawing blood. Someone is hunting on my territory.
With a swift crouch he leapt, launched airborne as he tried to locate the source of the intruder's scent. It was rare for a vampire to hunt on another's territory. Kaito's mother, when his parents had decided to relocate and settle in Tokyo, had established her claim to the metropolis following a series of fierce and bloody turf wars that had lasted for several years. From what he could tell, it had been very difficult for his mother, working to secure her territory while defending her human mate from assassination attempts. That his father had been an accomplished martial artist as well as magician had helped to ensure his survival during that time period.
With a strong bloodline hailing from a powerful clan based in France, Kaito had a rather distinguished pedigree despite his half-blood status. As a result of the strength of his lineage, the phantom thief was powerful enough to rival the strongest of vampires, and yet possessed none of the weakness that full-blooded vampires possessed. Kaito inherited not only the preternatural speed, strength, and regenerative ability of his mother's heritage, but the thirst for blood as well. Though his bloodlust was undeniable, he was able to control it by periodically partaking in a pint of humanely obtained, donated human blood that he purchased through specific channels. Holy water, silver, and garlic did nothing to him, he saw his reflection just fine, and sunlight posed no problem for him aside from the occasional sneeze. He and his brethren would assuredly die by a stake to the heart or decapitation just like any other organism with centralized nervous and circulatory systems, and a good number of poisons and chemicals were fatally toxic as well.
His crimson irises, slit pupils, and pointed canines were hidden with the use of an ensorcelled talisman that he wore as an unobtrusive gold anklet under his right sock. Kaito's skin was pale enough to make him appear ill by human standards, though the talisman also added some color to his skin. Add in his ability to disguise, and no one could ever have guessed that Kuroba Kaito was anything other than one hundred percent, completely human.
While Kaito had little problem holding the territory that his mother had won, he occasionally had to demonstrate his authority after she had left when he was fourteen. Chikage had stayed long enough for Kaito to mature just enough to hold his own before returning to feeding her wanderlust. If there was a particular trouble Kaito was experiencing she had no problems returning to Tokyo, but Japan reminded her too much of her lost human husband for her to remain by her son's side for extended periods of time.
Kaito landed on the roof of a building a block over and raised his head to the wind. There was nothing, so he knew he was currently upwind of his target. He glanced at the buildings that surrounded him, taking in wind direction and speed and crossing his mental calculations with building heights and locations. He bound to the next building over, desperate to deal with the intruder before Kudou made it up to the roof on the building he was holding his heist at. He estimated he had fifteen more seconds to search.
The next skyscraper yielded results, though not what he wanted: he found a sizable rag tied to a guard rail. The cloth had been doused in the pheromone he had initially scented. Which meant—
"MEITANTEI!"
Kaito landed on the roof of the heist location, eyes locking onto the detective's terrified blue eyes. A large hand had grasped his jaw, fingers digging cruelly into his skin, and had forced his head up and back onto the shoulder of his aggressor. The scent of Kudou's blood wafted into his nose. The thief lunged, tearing the other vampire off of the human and flinging him clear across the roof while catching the shocked Kudou and gently lowering him to the asphalt.
Gods, he smells delicious. No, FOCUS, Kaito! "Why are you here?" he snarled, standing protectively in front of the stunned and bleeding Beika native.
The vampire chuckled pompously. "Happened to be passing through and was hungry."
Kaito thought back to the cloth soaked with pheromones. "You lying motherfucker," he spat, "you planned this." His brain whirred through a list of enemies and motives, pulling up and discarding names and ideas in rapid order. "You don't smell like Them," he commented, and behind him he heard Kudou gasp at the remark. Instead, this vampire smelled young and inexperienced despite his body being physically larger—he had recently been Turned. Kaito was eager to teach this child of an upstart a lesson as to why he was the sole owner of the territory that was most of central Tokyo.
A single and very permanent lesson.
"I run solo," the intruder said, then smirked. "Decided I wanted to win a bit of turf here myself."
As if you could take me on, Kaito thought, and with a rumbling growl he darted at the challenger, catching him off guard as his hands closed around a thick, meaty neck and squeezed. They blew through the concrete parapet of the heist building, Kaito's speed such that there was no vertical drop in elevation as they smashed into the guard rails of the neighboring building and skidded across the asphalt. The impact with the roof, combined with Kaito's strength, succeeded in snapping the vampire's neck—which had been Kaito's purpose charging at him as he had. He felt the bone and cartilage give under his fingers, and once they came to a stop he lifted the body and glanced at the way the head lolled limply. The challenger had had no time to even think of a defense against Kaito.
The thief snorted, curling a lip to flash a fang to show his contempt. The vampire was concussed and passed out for now with a broken neck, but Kaito had just the thing to ensure he remained dead. From his coat he produced an autoinjector that would normally contain epinephrine—this one contained pentobarbital. The phantom thief carried it with him everywhere in case he ever came across a feral vampire that needed to be put down. With a sharp jab, Kaito injected the colored blue liquid into his neck, nailing the dextral carotid artery with ease.
"I'd say you lost this turf war," he remarked as he dropped the body before snippily adding, "Revive with that in your system, asshat." Kaito dusted himself off: the iconic white suit was very much scuffed and dirty. "Need to wash it again," he mumbled before he froze. "Meitantei…"
Kaito landed several meters away from the detective and swore under his breath. The irrefutable odor of infection curled within his nasal cavity, and Kaito could only pray that Kudou make it through the transformation with his sanity intact. Already the detective had curled in on himself, shudders wracking his body. His fingers scratched and clawed at the ragged wound on his neck—Kaito had not been as careful as he should have been when he had torn that vampire off the detective—as his breath hissed between gritted teeth, and the magician pried bloody fingers away from the damaged flesh.
The distant thundering of boots reminded Kaito that he was technically still on the clock, and he cursed again as he considered his options. Leaving Kudou here was not a possibility, as any newly turned vampire would inevitably be beyond parched, feral or not. Kaito could not let Kudou harm the Task Force that way. It would utterly destroy the detective.
But where could he take him? His house in Ekoda was too far away from this skyscraper in Chiyoda. His nearest safehouse was over in Shinjuku—several minutes away if he traveled at his fastest by rooftop. It would have to do.
Kaito scooped the twitching detective off the asphalt, cradling him as gently as he could while restraining him against his chest. "Hang in there, Meitantei," he whispered desperately, though whether it was encouragement for the detective or for himself, he could not say as he took a running leap off the edge of the roof, his aim another building across the highway.
The speed at which the phantom thief traveled was fast enough to be nothing but a blur to the human eye. But as light-footed and swift as Kaito was, the journey to his safehouse felt far too long. The vampire had needed to focus nearly all of his attention on his takeoffs and landings, lest he accidentally smash them against a wall or a railing, sparing only a small amount of his attention on maintaining what little comfort he could provide to Kudou.
At length they reached safety, Kaito hopping nimbly onto the balcony of a twelfth-story apartment unit. He deftly undid the lock from the outside, long strides taking him to the lone cot that lay in the center of the one room unit, ignoring the multitude of plastic shelving that neatly lined most of the otherwise bare walls. He gently set the detective down, quickly locking the sliding door and resettling the curtains over the glass that he had disturbed with their entrance. From a small refrigerator in the corner designated as the kitchen, Kaito swiped several cold bottles of water and two bags of blood, along with a towel, a large bowl, and a first aid kit from the cabinets.
He returned to Kudou's side, dampening the cloth and laying over the detective's burning forehead. The detective continued to shudder, the movement growing ever more violent. Kaito was swift in tying Kudou's limbs down with layers of silk handkerchiefs, tightly knotted, to keep the detective from injuring himself with his flailing. At this point, the metal chains on police-issued handcuffs would likely snap like brittle twigs.
Kudou gasped shallowly, the blood from his wound slowing to a lazy trickle as his flesh began to knit itself whole. He cried out in pain despite the fact that he was shallowly unconscious; Kaito could see the way his eyes rolled erratically beneath the closed lids. He jerked his head violently to one side, unintentionally tossing the cold cloth off his head as he released a soft keen of agony. Kaito was immensely glad he had replaced the original soundproofing material with the latest acoustic insulation material available.
"Meitantei," Kaito murmured with no small amount of concern as he tried to keep the damp, cool towel on the other man's forehead, his sense of smell telling him that Kudou's transformation was well underway. The detective thrashed before him, open mouth panting and exposing slowly growing upper canines. He snapped his jaws shut as a ripple of pain swept through his body, the new elongated fangs slicing into the lower gums as he keened his hurts. Kaito swiftly punctured one of the blood bags, aiming the small stream of life-giving fluid at the detective's mouth. Kudou stilled and swallowed before sticking his tongue out and even lifting his head up in order to search for the source of his desired sustenance. He lapped at the stream, and Kaito wiped the detective's mouth when some of the red liquid splashed onto his chin.
When the bag was empty, Kaito repeated the process a second time with the other bag before he wiped his face off again and waited. Usually, two pints was enough to force lucidity into newly Turned vampires—usually, but not always—and this was the moment of truth. "Come on," the magician urged as the detective moaned and shifted restlessly on the cot, "Come on, Kudou, you can get through this…"
A growl rumbled from his throat, and Kudou wailed as his back arched, lips and teeth parting in a bloody, foamy snarl and eyes snapping open to reveal blood-red irises. They rolled and landed on him, and Kaito barely managed to jerk to the side to avoid fangs aimed at tearing the flesh from his neck as Kudou tore through his restraints.
Kaito bared his teeth in instinctive response and pinned Kudou down on the cot by the neck, using his body weight to press him into the cot and hissing before reason reasserted itself and he blinked his fury from his eyes. He hastily snatched both of the detective's wrists and pinned them overhead to keep the newly grown claws from gouging out his back. Kudou's continued mindless growling at him made his stomach drop.
No. This could not be happening. Kudou was supposed to make it through this just fine, just like had with the Apoptoxin. No.
"No…" he breathed, staring in numb horror at what had used to be one of the most brilliant deductive minds in recent history. At someone who had used to be his intellectual equal in every way that mattered. "No, no, no, no…!"
It was not supposed to be like this! Kudou was not supposed to—
Kaito bent and pressed his forehead on the detective's chest, one hand still wrapped around the newly Turned vampire's throat, holding him at bay, and the other keeping him from physically maiming him. "Kudou," he prayed—pleaded—begged, "Please… please don't do this to me, Kudou…" Kudou continued to snarl and jerk in his grasp, aborted lunges that Kaito knew were meant to literally tear him apart.
The True vampire whined, a high-pitched pained sound that caused even the Turned vampire beneath him to momentarily still. I have to kill him, Kaito thought miserably. I have to put Meitantei out of his misery. He choked on his breaths, giving himself only a moment to mourn. There would be more time after—after the deed was done. This will be a mercy killing for him because the Meitantei I know would never have wanted to become this. Ever. But… how do I explain this to his friends? His family?
Kaito straightened, knowing that he was stalling on his only course of action. He gazed down at the bloodthirsty monster that wore Kudou's face and snapped long fangs at him, hardened his heart, and refused to regret what he was about to do. He could grieve and self-flagellate later.
"I'm so sorry, Meitantei—Kudou Shinichi." His eyes burned as he gazed upon the blood-obsessed creature that was once a great detective. "I'm so sorry you had to pay the price for my stupidity and my inability to protect you. For what it's worth—" He choked, sucking in a shuddering breath as his vision blurred. He laughed in spite of his situation, a somewhat hysterical chuckle borne of desperation and fear. "—despite the fact that you were a complete pain in the ass, you were the worthiest opponent I have ever faced in all my years as a phantom thief. Thank you."
He abruptly clenched the hand on Kudou's neck into what would have been a fist, the strength of his fingers shattering the cervical bones. Kudou's body instantly went limp, though he continued to silently snarl at him once the pain of destroying his vertebrae no longer registered. Kaito had, after all, crushed his larynx in the process.
Standing, Kaito leadenly made his way to the cabinet next to the refrigerator and pulled out another autoinjector filled with pentobarbital. Considering how slowly Kudou's neck was knitting, it was clear his sire had been of inferior stock. Kaito himself would already have been partially mobile given the same amount of time with the same injury.
Settling himself to the side of the detective, Kaito gently lifted a lax arm and rolled the sleeve back, eyes tracing out the major arteries and veins on the underside of Kudou's forearm. His gaze flicked back to Kudou's hissing face, guilt painting his expression as he pressed the needle end of the autoinjector against the detective's arm. "Please forgive me," he whispered, roughly swiping at his face with a sleeve, and depressed the button, injecting the blue liquid into Kudou's body.
The detective's entire form shuddered with the introduction of the anesthetic, and Kaito watched with a heavy heart as the snarl faded away from his face within a minute, leaving behind a blankly staring, utterly still Kudou Shinichi. Kaito reached out and carefully closed the detective's eyes—still red, no longer blue—before gently closing his jaw with a gentle click, making sure that neither tongue nor lips were damaged in the process. Kaito tried to smile, intellectually confident in his decision but emotionally devastated by it. He was sure his attempt at smiling was more a grimace than anything.
"Meitantei…"
There had been hope—the smallest sliver of hope in those quiet moments while Kaito had fed Kudou—where he had envisioned a future in which both of them were alive. Alive, lucid, and still playing their cat and mouse game of detective and thief for years, decades—even centuries—into the future. Because vampires did not die of old age. Vampires did not physically age once they reached middling human maturity, their appearances becoming static somewhere in the human's mid-twenties for both True vampires and Turned ones, if the change happened early enough. Kaito, for all his half-blood status, was powerful enough to more than rival even the weakest of pure-bloods, and while he would not live nearly as long as his pure French cousins due to his diluted blood, he would assuredly outlast many of his weaker pure-blooded brethren.
The idea of having Kudou beside him while his world changed, while his human friends aged and died, had been a secret comfort that he had, in the deepest recesses of his heart, been looking forwards to.
It was something that was never meant to be, considering he had murdered Kudou himself.
From his toolbox, he pulled out several different grits of steel files, which he then used to shave down Kudou's vampiric canines into the shape of normal human ones. He also filed down the sharp claws into the more usual blunted human's shape. His gaze fell on the deepening, hand-shaped bruise forming around the detective's neck, and he winced even as he made a mental note to cover it up with makeup before he returned the cooling body back to his loved ones. He did, luckily, have such items on hand in this tiny safehouse—while the purpose of this location was primarily to be a hideout in case he was grievously wounded, the space was also used as a station to change his appearance if needed.
Kaito grimaced. Considering how Kudou's coloration would change as his blood settled with gravity, he was not sure he had the correct cool-colored makeup necessary to blend away his handprint. His current selection of foundations and concealers were colors the living used, but the dead required colors that were purchased almost exclusively by morticians. He eyed his array of eye shadow color palettes and went about mixing the approximate color he believed Kudou would turn. Kaito had seen more than enough corpses to have a decent idea of how pale the detective would ultimately become.
The end result stood out fairly well against his skin, but Kaito knew with that with enough time, his handiwork would blend in enough to not be noticeable, if not perfectly matching. Should he make it look like a suicide? The broken vertebrae would be a dead giveaway that Kudou's death was a murder and not a suicide unless he purposely hung himself so high up that the break from the fall due to the noose snapped his neck, so… Where to place the detective where he could be found? It would be plain to any idiot that Kudou had died because of said snapped neck, but should he make it look like he fell off a building? Tripped down a staircase? A mugging?
His lips curled in aversion at the idea of further maiming Kudou's body, but in order to ensure that his kind remained in the shadows and undetected by humanity, such measures were a necessity. How did Kudou believe his body should be treated after his death? Kaito was reasonably sure that he had a will in place, though he had absolutely no idea what it said. Logic stated that he should make the detective's body disappear entirely—weigh his body down with stones, toss him out into Tokyo Bay. Emotion wanted him to return his body to his loved ones—it was why he had automatically covered the bruising on his neck with the appropriate makeup.
He sighed. Let the humans believe he was strangled to death. I don't want to add more wounds to his body. His decision settled him, caused the fluttering anxiety at what to do stilling in his ribcage. He untied Kudou's limbs and picked the detective up, wincing at how oddly Kudou's head lolled before quickly readjusting so that Kudou's face was tucked into his own neck.
Maneuvering back onto the balcony, he closed the curtain and locked the sliding door before he leapt off, his speed carrying him fast enough to keep him from being detected as he bounced from building to building. Kaito landed quietly in the backyard of the Kudou abode—the large mansion in Beika that had apparently accumulated ghosts, according to the locals—making quick work of one of back door. Letting himself in, he toed off his shoes and padded up the stairs, following Kudou's scent to what he assumed was his bedroom.
I guess I might as well make his death a mystery, since he loved them so much. With that idea in mind, Kaito changed Kudou out of his dirtied clothing and into a clean set of comfortable loungewear before tucking him neatly into the bed. The curtains over the window were pulled back just enough to bathe the detective in cool moonlight, and just to throw off the police that much more, he sprayed bleach-based bathroom cleaner on the inside of the cup that sat next to Kudou's toothbrush holder in the en suite bathroom. He balled up Kudou's bloodied and torn clothes to take with him before casting a critical eye over the room once more to ensure nothing of his presence was left behind after wiping down all the surfaces he had touched to erase his fingerprints.
Arranged the way he was, the detective appeared to simply be asleep as opposed to dead. Kaito allowed himself several breaths to study his greatest rival's face for the last time, his heart heavy as he gazed at the still form. "Farewell, Kudou," he apologized softly, "I'm truly sorry I was not able to protect you." And then he was gone, leaving the detective alone in the large house.
A faint, shadowy form detached itself from one of the darker corners of the room, stepping out to observe the body that lay on the bed. A hand reached out to graze a cheek, the fingers ghosting through the cool flesh. Jerkily retracting the appendage in surprise, the figure sighed after a long moment of processing and silently sighed, You've nothing to be sorry about, KID.
Author's Note: This Halloween-ish fic had been sitting on my hard drive for literal years, though the idea never really left me alone. I didn't quite expect it to go the way it did, but I'm kind of happy with it all the same. Pentobarbital is a sedative that is commonly used as a pre-anesthetic for surgery. It works on the central nervous system and at higher doses is used as an anticonvulsant and for inducing medical comas, and overdoses cause airway compromise, cardiovascular collapse, coma, and death. I hope you enjoyed it.
Completed: 13.10.2022
