I don't know where this came from, I was supposed to be working on something else. o_O

Note: Takes place approximately one year after 'Pain'.

Scab
By Icka! M. Chif

They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

Looking down the side of the building to the people milling on the side walk several stories below, it dawns on me that this is an awfully big first step.

It's not just the height. Kami know that heights don't bother me, and I don't fear falling. It's just that... this is it. This is the end of my old life, and the beginning of... everything.

I guess technically that's not true. The end happened a while ago, with the slightest of slips, a fall and screaming match in a jail cell. That's when the end happened. When she left.

But this... this has me shaking inside like very few things ever have.

The Bard once said that a man in his time will wear many masks. I just happen to wear more masks than most. Like enough for 10 people.

I had thought, before the end, that I was Kuroba Kaito, masquerading as the Kaitou Kid. Since then I've wondered. I was -born- to be the Kid. The tricks, the heists, the riddles, it all comes so easily. It's harder to be myself.

It could be that I'm still fooling myself. Instead of Kuroba Kaito wearing the mask of the Kid, that I've just traded one mask for another, the Kid masquerading as Kuroba Kaito.

Or it could be what I was seeking when I talked to Hakuba. A blending of the two, with all the flaws, strengths and weaknesses therein. Becoming myself for the first time ever by hiding in plain sight. Stopping the masquerade even as it picks up for other people.

I think Dad would have a fit if he knew I had changed the rules. Mom says that she's proud of me. I think she's nuts. Why anyone would be proud that their son is on the International Most Wanted List, I don't know. Not that I'd say it to her face, even if I ever got a chance to see her. She's got a really mean throwing arm when she's angry.

Of course, she's the one that married Dad even after finding out what his night job was. That doesn't exactly say much about her mental sanity in the first place. Still love her lots though.

The wind changes, blowing my now longer hair into my face. It's slightly too short to tie back, but just long enough to be a pain in the butt and get into everything. I haven't had the time to get it cut since my escape, nor has it exactly been a high priority. It makes it a bit harder to hide under a wig, but I've been told that it suits me. I've also been told it makes me look like a girl. Which works well for me.

The cops aren't looking for a girl.

Heh.

All joviality aside, I think... it's time.

On my back is an experiment, the genius of myself and several people who have never met, nor is it likely they will ever meet. Most won't even know they helped.

Dad had the right idea with a glider in a cape. It's unexpected, it's dramatic and by golly it works. The downside is that it's a bit on the bulky side, having to deal with a mess of metal strapped to your back which is a pain when you're trying to use all the agility in your body to dodge, say, bullets and hordes of policemen. And you can't actually fly; more like toss yourself at the winds and pray that they're feeling merciful tonight.

But these... Oh, I like these. Still a little on bulky side, but nothing too bad. More subtle than a cape, so I can wear them on the street without catching attention.

And best of all, I can fly. Actually fly. Where ever I want to go.

The network is in place, information passing through it at a rate that I wouldn't have believed possible. Spies, informants, places to crash for the night... it's amazing. I couldn't have done it without Jii's help; the friends he's made over the years have been invaluable.

I'm proud to say that I'm funding most of it on my own too. Those little tricks and toys I came up with based off of some of Dad's old plans make the most wonderful children's toys. Something tells me that Nakamori-kun wouldn't find that gizmo on his desk quite so amusing if he knew who created it.

A giddy sensation builds from the bottom of my gut, and I tilt my head back and laugh, letting all my fears and doubts leave with it.

There is a time and a place for remembering the lessons of the past. What I was I can never return to, that much is certain.

And right now, this, this is for the future.

I have a heist to get to.

No more doubts or hesitation, I step off the edge of the building, leaping into the emptiness below my feet. The wind rushes up to greet me, and for the slightest of moments, there's brief flicker of fear that it won't work like it's supposed to and they'll be scraping me off the street for weeks to come.

Then there's a familiar rustle as my wings snap out and catch the wind. There's a cheer and I realize I'm letting out a rebel yell loud enough to wake the dead as I soar higher into the night sky.

First step... taken.

Fin.

Called 'Scab' because sometimes thinking of the past is like a scab. Feels good to pick at, but it doesn't help it heal.