Feeling a bit like an idiot... We finished this series probably about six months ago and never updated it here. Sorry 'bout that.

Scar
By Icka! M. Chif

"Have you ever heard of the phrase 'Counting Crows', Nakamori-kun?" Though the voice of the speaker was soft, it still startled him. His footsteps should have been soundless, and his intended audience hadn't seen him to his knowledge. "One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth. Five for silver, six for gold, and seven for a secret that's never been told."

"Can't say as I have." He said neutrally, stopping where he was to observe the other man. It was hard to tell if it was him after all, a darken shadow perched on the edge of a city lit night sky.

"It's supposedly for fortune telling, counting the crows in a field. There's other versions of it, of course." The darkly clad man shifted still not looking at him while bits of ornamentation and a long black vest, like a trench coat with the arms cut off, stirred and shifted in the slight breeze. "One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Five and six are the same, but seven is for a secret never to be told. The two phrases can be mixed up and used how ever the speaker wishes, but the intent is still the same. Count the crows and see the future."

Nakamori wondered if it as possible for the darkly clad man to actually peer into the future. It seemed like it frequently. He cleared his throat to cover up the nervousness that he felt and spoke gruffly. "Hakuba-kun sends his regards, he's unable to make it tonight."

"I know." The man turned his face so that Nakamori could see it in profile and smiled briefly before looking out again at the night kissed city below. Lights shined and gleamed while the headlamps of cars moved like molten rivers under their gaze. "I was the one who set his broken leg. Really, with as dense as he is, you'd think it'd be impossible for him to break a limb."

The words were meant jovially, but there was a bitter pang of regret under it.

"It was his own stupidity. He doesn't blame you for it." He was rather startled to find that he was attempting to console the other man. They were opponents after all.

"I know."

"You still blame yourself, don't you?"

"Of course." The dark man turned, and for the first time in five years, Nakamori got to see the face of the man whom at one time he had considered as close as a son.

Kuroba Kaito.

Formally known as the Phantom Kaitou Kid, or the International Thief 1412.

The last time he had seen him, the boy, now an adult, had just woken up behind bars. And yet his first word and only words to any sort of officer or detective until Hakuba Saguru appeared weren't for his release or about his capture, but a simple heartfelt plea for him not to tell his daughter.

He'd watch the video of the thief's conversation with the then young detective when he had started to speak again. It had alarmed many people, and amused some. Security had been increased on the floor around the cell after that.

But true to his word, the next Wednesday, a little bit before four in the afternoon, Kuroba disappeared for two hours from his cell. Not walked out, not left, but simply disappeared. They had checked the tapes and the security cameras for tampering, but none was found. The thief had simply vanished, leaving nothing but a ruckus behind him.

Only to then walk up to the front desk with a take out bag for a restaurant across town and request to be let back into his cell. Evidently it was easier getting -out- than it was getting back -in-.

And then two weeks later, he simply vanished again. Kuroba had straighten the cell up, making the bed and tidying what he could, then washed his hands and face, combed his hair and fixing his clothes, much like a teenager on a date would do. He then turned, bowed to the cameras, including the hidden ones he shouldn't have known were there, then simply opened the door to his cell and walked out.

Disappearing into thin air. As he had reached the door, there had been a small poof of smoke and the thief was gone, one step into the hallway. No one could explain it.

Once the disturbance that caused died down, everything had been quiet for a few months. Then the rumours started. Of someone gathering information.

A LOT of information.

Someone was collecting and building networks. Not just from hackers and the standard lowlifes that people got information from, but a variety of normal law abiding citizens too. Someone that people wouldn't talk about directly, not from fear, but out of trust and loyalty. Loyalty that was -earned-. Then the rumours started to trickle in from other parts of the world too. And slowly, the head of this network began to gain nicknames.

Some made no sense.

Batman. The Shadow. The Phantom.

Some that began to make too much sense.

Fallen Angel. Black Feather.

Kuroba Kaito.

And then the first note appeared.

It was done in the classic Kaitou Kid style, with several small differences that spoke volumes. Instead of a white card with black lettering, this was a black card with silver ink. And in the corner, instead of a caricature of the grinning Kid's hat and monocle, there was a stylised sketch of a single feather.

And after all his cursing for the Kid to make sense with his notes, it did. Sort of. It was a request for a large piece of jewellery to be sent to an address by a certain time. The jewellery would be returned the day after, with an offer for the postage to be paid back.

The man who had brought it in was incised, furious beyond belief that someone would make such an insane request and demanding the police's involvement.

For nothing. Much like the Kid had disappeared out of his cell, the jewellery vanished before their eyes, by an unseen hand.

And in its place was a single black feather. A primary wing feather from a large crow or a chushin.

The uproar this caused was nothing compared to the uproar that the jewel's return caused. As the note had said, the jewellery was returned the next day, in a brown paper wrapped box sent postage due, professionally cleaned and a note appraising it's value.

The second note appeared less than a week later, in a different part of the world. This was followed by a third and a fourth in separate parts of the world.

And the reputation began to spread.

The name 'Kuroba Kaito' when from being Kid the Phantom Thief's alter ego, to taking on a life of its own.

One that far surpassed the original legacy.

Nakamori, as the person with the most experience chasing the thief, had continued as his position as the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force, renamed the Kaitou Kuroba Task Force. Hakuba grown into his right hand, becoming Ganimard to Kuroba's Lupin. Rumour on the wind had it that the higher ups were grooming the London bred Japanese boy into Nakamori's replacement, for when he retired or took a less active role.

And to be honest, the travel and the chase was beginning to wear on him.

It appeared to have the opposite effect on Kuroba, the thief was taller, leaner and more muscled, holding himself like blade honed sharp by use. The thief's face had changed, gotten narrower as his hair had gotten longer. It was difficult to tell if this was Kuroba's real face, the face that lay underneath all the masks. He was a master of disguise.

The eyes, the eyes though. Even with the monocle, topped with a black feather now instead of a charm, the eyes were unmistakeable with the force of personality that he had fought with for over twenty-five years. Years had been both rough and kind.

He privately wished that not so many of them had been so separate. From either his old friend, Toichi, or Toichi's son.

"How long have you and Hakuba been having these meetings anyway?" He grumbled, changing the subject.

A chuckle answered him. "The first one is documented." Kuroba grinned at him. "I've been meeting him for dinner whenever schedules would allow, usually a every few months or so. Trading news and other important trivialities."

"Tonight's the first I've heard about it." He grumbled, irritated at the younger blond and the thief. Hakuba had explained, in a voice slurred from painkillers that he had a meeting between himself and the thief and requested if Nakamori could go in his stead, to make his apologies. Hakuba had also commented that he thought it would be a good idea for them to talk.

"It is rarely planned in advance. It began by chance and it seemed fortuitous to continue in the same fashion. Many times he doesn't even know it is me. Although you might want to ask him about the cocktail party in Paris last year, he's still trying to figure out how I fit into that slinky little red number..." There was a definite smugness around the dark haired man.

Kuroba in a cocktail dress was not a mental picture he required. "You do know that Hakuba and my daughter are seriously dating, correct?" He doubted such information would be missed by the thief's informants, but sometimes it was better safe than sorry.

"Actually..." The thief looked vaguely amused "Saguru asked me for permission before asking her out."

"He did WHAT!"

Kuroba nodded. "Before he asked you, from what I understand. Please don't kill him for it."

Nakamori growled. The cheek of that boy...

Although, it did make a certain amount of sense. He was Aoko's father. He -could- say no, put his foot down and knowing his daughter, it wouldn't do a bit of good. On the other hand, Kuroba was the internationally wanted criminal. If Kuroba had objected, Hakuba might very well never be found again. Or be found in lots of little pieces.

"Did you know that they're thinking about getting married?" Kuroba added, a not so hidden smile in his tone.

"They- What! NO! grrrrrrrrrr..." He ground his teeth into this cigar and glowered at the thief. He hadn't thought it was -that- serious.

"He tentatively asked if me to be his best man, but, uh, I kind of had to turn him down." Kuroba smiled at him, a bit of embarrassment colouring the tone, but there was an undercurrent there that snapped him out of his anger, making him pause. Kuroba appeared to catch himself and turned away, resuming looking at the building he'd been staring at earlier.

"Kaito-kun..." Nakamori sighed. "How are you doing? Truthfully."

Kuroba looked up, but not at him. "I'm alright. Really."

"Kaito-kun."

This earned him a look. "No, I really am alright. I think I was born for this life. It's just... sometimes... memories."

The reminders of what he had lost. For a moment, Nakamori wondered if Kuroba was masochistic, to actively seek out these reminders.

Or perhaps this was a touchstone, to remind him of why he did this now, so he didn't forget.

"Anything I can pass long?" He asked, masking his concern gruffly.

Kuroba looked thoughtful for a minute. "If... I asked you to tell Aoko that I still loved her, would it hurt her?"

Nakamori debated it over for several moments. He could lie and spare his feelings, but he got a feeling that it would only hurt the thief. "Most likely." He finally admitted gruffly.

The Thief nodded, his face looking older than the inspectors own. "Then can you give her a different message for me?"

"Would you tell her that I hate her too?"

"Sure." He studied the man in front of him again. "Are you sure?"

To his surprise, Kuroba grinned. "Well, they say that the existence of an extreme emotion usually means that there's another extreme emotion behind it. And you only hurt the ones you love, right?"

Nakamori nodded. Even he had to admit that his daughter probably wouldn't hate the thief with such a vengeance if she didn't love him so much to begin with. "Right."

"Thank you."

The soft hush of wings startled him, but Kuroba reached a hand out, as if expecting their visitor. A large black bird, settled on his outstretched arm, claws digging into the black bracers that masked the thief's forearms. That explained some of the strangeness of the outfit. The bird crmukashied, shifting its feet as it turned a sparkling eye at him.

"I'm afraid this is my cue to say good night." Kuroba apologised. He then grinned, a wide grin of amusement. "Although it's legitimate work tonight, testing security systems. Pays a fair deal, and it's always entertaining to have permission to break and enter into someone's place."

Nakamori snorted in amusement. "So much fun it ought to be illegal?"

"Exactly." The grin faded to a more sombre look. "It was good to see you again, Nakamori-keibu." The unladen hand was extended towards him.

Nakamori grinned, closing the gap between them and clasping Kuroba's hand with a firm grip. He was glad he had taken Hakuba up on the strange offer, even if it was technically illegal. "It was good seeing you too, Kaito-kun. Take care of yourself."

"You too." Kuroba smiled at him, a lopsided expression that flickered with emotion. Regret, pride, fondness, acceptance. "I'll be seeing you. Even if you don't see me."

With one last wave, Kuroba let go of his hand and leapt off the building into the night sky, the bird launching off his arm at the same time. In the blur of black against grey, Nakamori swore he saw the outline of a familiar hang glider extend from the long vest the younger man was wearing, slowing the decent.

Then Kuroba passed over a molten street filled with light and he realised that it wasn't a hang glider, but a pair of huge wings, shaped like a bats, or the dragons of myth, sprouting from Kuroba's back and carrying him aloft. Then this too changed, the points of the wings fracturing and splitting off into smaller sections.

Nakamori stood on the rooftop and watched until Kuroba was out of sight, soaring in the night sky on name sake... feathered black wings.

fin-