DISCLAIMER: Magic Kaito is the respective creation and property of Gosho Aoyama.
AUTHOR: Melpomene-the-Tragic-Parody
MAIN CHARACTERS: Kaito Kuroba, Aoko Nakamori
CHAPTER: #6
TITLE: Hot and Cold
INSPIRED BY: ~ Hot n Cold, by Katy Perry ~
~M.K~
Fighting was synonymous with dancing for two Ekoda students at the back of Class 2-B. The spectacle was a weekly routine that presented an embarrassing surge of entertainment to a tedious day of schoolwork. It was vastly impossible to ignore the fluidity of their curious dance of 'Whac-A-Magician: Mop-Edition'.
Kaito and Aoko had never rehearsed their mop-equipped argument, yet every vicious turn Aoko's lashes offered was quickly surpassed by Kaito's athleticism and agility. She rarely hit him and he was rarely caught, but their unpredictability meshed together in a single certainty that anyone could measure. They knew one another and were too alike to ever truly cause the other harm.
There was no denying that Aoko was motivated by her vexation with her best friend just as much as his delight was bolstered by her fiery temperament. What truly defined their 'dance' was their determination to outmatch the other in a war of brains as much brawn. Their resolution was a puzzling case, transforming from fiery whirlwinds to their regular demeanor as though such acts were irrelevant. Such a temperament had flourished between them since the day they had met.
These were simpler times when they were completely and bizarrely in sync, forged by an unbreakable bond that no one could explain.
~M.K~
Upon the return of Kaitou Kid to the world, something had gone amiss between them. Quite often, they were seen bickering on their journey home, passing through stores, and even going on trips as dictated by their customary repertoire. But in the passing days, those escapades grew less and less. Wary were those of the darkening circles beneath their eyes, one of worry, another of secrecy.
The tense vigor born between their friendly competition had somewhat soured. Aoko's disdain for the elusive criminal was rivaled by Kaito's veneration of his accomplishments. Days upon weeks of their disagreements had slowly shrouded them in resentment, and in time, they found themselves drifting toward new interests that opened fewer opportunities for the other's presence. They had shown signs of focusing their energy on anything but each other.
It became worrisome when their synchronicity did not align, tossing their world into unbalance.
~M.K~
Yet, every time she thought they had lost their grip, he always returned with a blazing wonder to enthrall her world. Neither of them was oblivious to their new situation or the growing tension that had slowly built a fragile wall between them. But that was hardly considered a deterrent. Though their dances had appeared ever so often, it was the customary wonders of Kaito's genius that magnetized their bond.
Tears of sorrow transformed to tears of mirth in a heartbeat. Nimble hands and swift tricks found ways to take her breath away, ever since the moment they met as children. Resentful pouts curved into awed smiles, and there was always one certainty that they both knew and accepted as truth.
Their dances were never solo. From bickering to jesting, their spirals never departed long before they were thrown back together, from blows to tickles. From the nights of fireworks lighting the sky to simple ice-creams under the golden sun, Aoko knew for certain that Kaito had a real gift.
He could make her laugh at anything.
~M.K~
But she never thought his secrets would lead to this icy dread between them. It slowly dawned on her that his excuses for his absences, at times, either too frequent or too inconsistent. There was something unusual about the way he moved some days, as though his body and mind were lethargic or stiff. He almost never spaced out when she spoke with him, but there were too many gaps for her to fill when his deep, endless thoughts consumed him. In time, her investigative instincts took hold and forced her to examine him closely.
On the day Kid had been shot to protect her father and Kaito shared the wound, their fanciful reality had been irrevocably shattered.
Where the laughter ended, the screaming began. And the screaming was something that Kaito preferred over the turbulent silence that followed in Aoko's wake once she walked out of his door. The lingering uncertainty that his game of smoke and mirrors had unleashed a monster worse than his adversaries was bolstered by her refusal to acknowledge his existence.
Their nights were an endless void of uncertainty. She never spoke of his secret to the world but it did little to appease the hurt that had settled in their chests. Whispers followed their new-found status as less than acquaintances.
Their heated dances no longer filled the boring restlessness that lingered from day to day, the cold reality born from a truth beyond expectations.
~M.K~
Time never stopped to offer them reconciliation, but eventually, absence brought more sorrows than fondness. Day after day crawled passed and evidently, the chasm forged between them demanded their attention. They were both far too stubborn and resilient to confess that the truth was the driving factor that had thrown their world into chaos. Would retaining deceit have made those problems any better? No, they decided, it wouldn't have; it would have only built a higher building from which to jump.
But Aoko caught those piercing glances from his side of the classroom, imploring for her attention and company. Some nights, she thought she saw him perched on her balcony, clothed in that dastardly white getup and wondered if it was only a dream. Sometimes, she found herself cooking for three when it was only herself and her father at the table, and the leftovers had a habit of disappearing. She hadn't spoken a word of it to him; she let herself assume it was her father's overworked appetite at play.
And Kaito caught her staring at his house every day, before and after school. Her laughter lacked its gleeful pizzazz, and her cerulean eyes just wouldn't glitter as his memory had served. Her father worried to the point that even Kid had to remark upon his distraction, biting back the guilt that it was he who had caused distress for both father and daughter, a bizarre not-so-exosystem in their lives. More than missing her in his audience, he yearned for her smile to brighten his day, for her optimism to challenge his cynicism, and for her effortless ability to keep him on his toes, always inspiring him.
Yet neither were willing to face the other. They danced around one another, two magnets refusing to merge. The truth had divided them. Refusal to accept change had broken their dance.
~M.K~
Yet traditions went unerased, a cluster of habits could neither be forgotten or rejected. Was it plausible to say that it was their humanity that forged ahead to revive balance to the universe?
It had not gone amiss for anyone to witness Aoko's continued protestation at Kid's heists, broadcasting her encouragement for her father's success to anyone who would listen. The elusive thief succeeded in his subsequent flights of departure, a jewel in hand and poker face intact.
Yet neither would speak of the lingering ease that this secret remained disclosed between them alone, of Kaito's safe return every night.
Kaito's academic rivalry with Aoko continued to dazzle their somewhat confounded professors, all witness to the antics born from the estranged duo. Aoko's eyes gleamed with pure vexation at the playing cards flicked across the room from his nimble hands, and no one commented on the paper balls chucked at his head in retaliation.
If it bothered anyone that Aoko's bag randomly exploded with confetti, it was never disclosed.
A desire to indulge in delightful, luscious desserts never went amiss when her beloved brand of chocolates magically appeared in the fridge, more frequently as of late. In return, perhaps the supper leftovers deviated from her traditional preferences to his, and she understood that her father was developing a strong suspicion toward the lot of them.
But the silence proceeded to disguise any yearning they had to transcend the morose chasm burrowed them.
She found herself enraptured in sleepless nights when bullets rained on his heist with lethal force, marking the presence of cruel men shrouded in shadows. Her resistance gradually crumbled at the sight of his dim pallor, at his struggles to maintain wakefulness in lectures and the stiffness of his arms and his torso. In the moments he ultimately drifted off into a restless sleep, he imagined the gentleness of her touch through the dark mess he called hair.
When he woke up alone in his home, wounds cleaned and bandages renewed, he caught the scent of her perfume on his pillow and a bowl of soup in his fridge.
Upon dismissal, her solitary journey home faired well, accompanied only by the warm evening air and the distant chatter of the world. Yet it hadn't escaped her notice that his hesitant form lingered in the background, tracing her footsteps until he returned to his residence, satisfied she was secure in her own home. And perhaps the day came, after turbulent hours of restless showers, she lost her balance on the slippery, uneven ground and fell, squealing from the abrupt pain flaring up her leg. As if summoned by her distress, the pounding tempo of his feet echoed in her ears. Perhaps he disregarded her protests and hoisted her on his back as he did in their childhood days and carried her home.
She confessed to no one but her heart that his scent was soothing, that his warmth gave her ease, and his nearness comforted the tension in her chest.
~M.K~
A fragment of her had forever embedded itself in his soul and he comprehended it now more than ever. He'd danced around her long enough.
Through bitter tears and tempered words, the silence was irrevocably broken; and it came to mind that they both deserved their shame as they sought the common ground they had always known. What claims did they have of what was right and wrong when it came to one another? Where was the certainty that their departure would never haunt them to the end of their days? Where was the mop so deserving of kissing his unkempt head when he pinched her cheeks and declared them both as lunatics?
Perhaps they truly were just so, a whirlwind of emotions opposing one another until the improbable merged into something enchanting. Headstrong and childish and irrevocably flawed, they were too alike to truly wish the absence of the other in their life forever. He embraced her temper when she tended to his wounds late at night. She sank into his assured composure when tensions ran high. Their class sought safety when their defiant dance returned in full swing, shattering the peace they had come to enjoy.
May the gods have mercy on the world, they thought. Contrastive and likewise, they made no sense, fighting with one another, fighting for one another, and never backing down, but it was just who they were, always and forever.
His passionate girl brimming with tenacity and her boy as cold and sweet as ice-cream.
~M.K~
FURTHER NOTES:
This should have been up yesterday, but I was so tired I forgot. Sorry about that. I started out with one idea of where this should go and then it deviated so far that I'm now wondering if it even makes sense anymore. Let me know because I sure got carried away.
Reviews and criticisms are welcome.
—MELPOMENE-THE-TRAGIC-PARODY, signing out.