DISCLAIMER: Magic Kaito is the respective creation and property of Gosho Aoyama.
AUTHOR: Melpomene-the-Tragic-Parody
MAIN CHARACTERS: Kaito Kuroba, Aoko Nakamori
CHAPTER: #7
TITLE: What Kind of Man
INSPIRED BY: ~ What Kind of Man, by Florence and the Machine ~
~M.K~
"You're a holy fool, all colored blue. Red feet upon the floor. You do such damage. How do you manage to have me crawling back for more?"
The words cycled in her head as she stood in the last place she wanted to be. What was it about music that always triggered something unpleasant? Somehow, she had brought herself to the one place she knew would cause her more heartache from a cover song on the radio, a translation of a Western track that spoke to her in ways she didn't expect. Absent from her ears, it still resounded in memory, slowly drowned by the downpour above. Frozen in the rain, she faced Kaito's darkened house with a foolish stubbornness, almost relishing in the icy water soaking through every crevice of her being. From the pavement, she gripped her trembling fingers tightly to the iron gate.
Numb to the bone, Aoko found herself unlatching the gate and stumbling up to the front door. In her earlier rounds of disbelief and rage, it had been a miracle that she hadn't disposed of her key to his house. Now that she stood in the darkness of the open hallway, a part of her was grateful that she hadn't bothered. Judging from the absence of warmth in the Kuroba household, Kaito had yet to return home. Piece by piece, she removed her gloves and shoes and discarded her sopping jacket on the rack. She didn't care if she made a mess. Did he really deserve her consideration anymore?
There was no one to answer her.
She rubbed her hand over her weather-chilled arms whilst ascending the staircase to the upper floor. Was it her imagination, or was it colder up here? Alarm flared through her body as a flash of lightning burst through the evening sky, illuminating her path to a familiar and dreaded bedroom she had known since childhood. Kaito had left his door wide open.
Nothing had changed since her last visit a month ago. The irritating boy had left books and papers strewn on his desk and his bed was unmade. The lingering scent that engulfed her was something that only Kaito could exude, clear enough that it pinched her heart with his bizarre sweetness.
Yet she breathed in deeply instead of turning away in disgust.
It had never been in the books to ever enter this house again. This was the last time she let a moment of pure stupidity compromise her judgment.
How was it even possible that her childhood best friend, a seventeen-year-old high school student, was an internationally notorious phantom thief renown for his public, magical performances in front of cheering audiences whilst stealing precious gems and humiliating an entire Task Force of police officers headed by her own father for the entire world to see?
Aoko had no idea where to start figuring out what it all meant. Her charade with Kaito was ironic enough to fit a multitude of fictions she never anticipated.
What did Kaito expect of her now that she knew the truth about him? He had gone to his heist as scheduled; he hadn't sent a cancellation notice. Either he had taken the risk that she had told her father or he believed that she had withheld the truth. No, he had to believe she had revealed his alter ego because that was the most reasonable assumption, especially after the horrible events of that night.
Sitting on the edge of Kaito's bed, staring at the tremors of her icy hands, Aoko couldn't help but wonder…
Why hadn't she told anyone the truth? She had discovered the identity of Kaitou Kid. Hakuba had been right all along. Her father's earliest suspicion's when Kid returned had been right. Kaito Kuroba… was Kaitou Kid.
A dry sob escaped her lips.
She had known Kaito since she was a child. He was her best and closest friend. Of course, he could be completely obtuse, falling asleep in class, flipping her skirts and peeping into the girl's locker room, always practicing his magic tricks, and doing everything at his own leisure. The Kaito she thought she knew could be a jerk, but he had always there when she needed him. Always making her tears go away. Always bringing a smile to her face.
He must have had so much fun playing with her heart.
In the end, he was the one who made her cry. He was the one who made her scream. Disappearing whenever he wanted and almost always forgetting to say thank you when she put him before herself. She looked after him more than his own mother. And all this time he was stealing precious gems and playing her father for a fool?
Where was the correlation? Kid was a gentleman thief who was always polite, quick-witted and charming, and capable of disguising himself as anyone he wanted. He existed long before Kaito was even born! Growling with frustration, Aoko stood on knobbly knees and marched out of the room before she could break something.
Returning to the ground floor, Aoko went straight to the television and turned it on, flicking the channels until she found the one she was looking for. The sound of cheering poked her hard in the gut.
"...just moments ago!" said the reporter from the live stream to Kid's current battle against Adviser Jirokichi Suzuki. "It's just in! Kaitou Kid has successfully taken the Serpentine Scorpion from the Suzuki Corporation's newly improved unbreakable vault!"
Aoko dropped the remote on the seat beside her. She wasn't even surprised. Of course, Kid would steal a gem supposedly impossible to steal. Again. She could hear the commotion from the live stream, of Kid's adoring fans cheering his name as he once again humiliated her father and the entire Anti-Kid Task Force. This time, the Sleeping Kogoro and the Kid Killer had been too ill to attend, so they had been absent from the event, even though their presences would have been crucial to defusing the worse potential chaos Aoko could have imagined. Well, perhaps Mouri would have; she would never dream of putting that little Edogawa boy in such danger.
Minutes later, the reporter and the crowd were whipped into the frenzy when they saw Kid's signature white hang glider take off from the building's roof, unaffected by lighter showers in the area. Whether it was a decoy or actually Kid, Aoko didn't care anymore. She switched off the television and collapsed onto her side on the couch, her entire body indifferent to the misery in her heart.
"Why?" she sobbed softly. "Kaito, you idiot…"
Aoko didn't know how long she lay there, but it had been long enough to fall asleep.
~M.K~
Her distant dreams were a whirlwind of rain and bloodstains. The renewed pattering of rain splashed against the windows as the world around her called for her attention out of dreamland. Her whole body felt heavy and the temptation to simply drift off was strong. She cracked an eye open, just to check for the time. A moment later, it dawned on her that she wasn't enraptured in the warmth and comfort of her own bedroom. The portrait of Toichi Kuroba hung near the foot of the bed, a centerpiece belonging to Kaito's bedroom. In alarm, Aoko realized that she was in Kaito's bed, bundled in his warm sheets and clearly in a daze as the memories returned, from her arrival to his house to falling asleep in his living room.
Aoko sat up quickly, the sheets dropping for her to realize that her soaking clothes were gone. Was this one of Kaito's shirts? It was loose and baggy and fell midway on her thighs. Aoko's heart stuttered when she realized that her skirt was missing, along with her leggings. All she wore was a pair of undies and Kaito's shirt.
How…?
"You're awake. Good. The snoring was grinding on my nerves."
Frozen like a deer in headlights, Aoko's startled eyes fell on the lean, shadowy outline of a young man lounging in the chair beside his desk. Partially illuminated by the light from his laptop, he was as unreadable as ever, clad in plain clothes instead of a gleaming white suit. She hadn't expected the strained silence between them.
Aoko held her breath, her heart stammering guiltily. She pointedly glared at the sheets covering her from the waist down, blushing when she realized that there was only one person who could have brought her here and possibly compromised her honor.
"Where are my clothes?" she asked curtly. "You didn't see anything, did you, you jerk?"
Kaito scoffed and swiveled in his chair. "Why are asking something like that? There wouldn't have been anything to see, anyway." Aoko felt her face burn bright, muttering curses under her breath. "I put your clothes to dry. What were you thinking, just falling asleep like that? What, you want to get sick?"
Aoko huffed and turned her head, twice as irritated now. "And all of a sudden you care about my well-being? What game are you playing at, Kaito?"
What had she expected to see? Remorse? Amusement? Anger? It wasn't as though she never saw any emotions in him but she at least expected some sort of reaction. Instead, he simply sat there, watching her as easily as one would glance at a blank wall, unreadable and entirely unhelpful.
"You didn't tell him?" Kaito said tonelessly.
That was what he was concerned about? Yes, of course, it was; his entire life depended on it. Aoko couldn't help herself; she grabbed the pillow and chucked it at his head, yelling, "Maybe I should if it stops you from ruining your life!"
He tilted to the side and the pillow flew passed him without a millimeter of contact.
"Eeh…? Is that why you came here?" he continued. "Conducting an intervention, are we? Or is it an interrogation?"
How could he be so nonchalant? How could he just sit there and act as though this wasn't a big deal like they were discussing the outline for their next math exam? He couldn't be oblivious to the fury coursing through her right now, could he? To the pain that ached because of his betrayal…
"What happened to you, Kaito?" she demanded, her voice quavering from the ache in her throat. "Why would you do something like this?" He didn't answer her. "Why would ever become Kaitou Kid? I want to know!"
Kaito leaned back in his chair. "An interrogation it is, then. Tck."
He looked so bored. What was going on in that head of his? Did he not remember what happened? Because she certainly did! It was a memory that she couldn't exactly purge into the dark recesses of her mind. Without hesitation, Aoko threw off the sheet and marched over to his side, not entirely surprised that he had instantaneously moved behind the chair with quick grace. She had nothing but her hands to hit him with but wasn't sure she had the strength.
"I don't care what you call it, you jackass!" she screamed at him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Answer me!"
His silence was filled with the sound of rain. His expression was void, as smooth as a stone statue, handsome, chiseled, and cold. Kaito's 'poker faces' always held some glimmer of life, never betraying his thoughts, but clear enough to show some sort of humanity. This… it was as though she was invisible to him, unnecessary to notice or sympathize with. She couldn't describe how much that hurt.
She held his steady gaze. Those sapphire eyes lacked the light she had always known of him. Was this really Kaito? Having had enough of his charade, Aoko's right hand lashed out and grasped around his left bicep as tightly as she could and the left hand pressed against his chest, all the while she kept her eyes on his face.
The corner of his mouth twinged, almost too light to notice, but she had.
"They still hurt you, don't they?" she guessed bitterly as he skillfully slipped out of her reach and slicked closer to the shadows. "You probably didn't even go to the hospital for treatment, did you?" Not a word of response came from him. "Damn it, Kaito, why won't you just talk to me?!"
"Because you're wasting your time," he replied shortly. "Nothing I say can change what's happened, moron."
Aoko's breath shortened. "Don't be stupid! I remember what happened that night, Kaito! I saw those men shoot at you! If I hadn't dragged you out of there, what would have happened then?!"
The tension between them shifted.
Far be it for Aoko to interfere with capturing Kid, but she had taken a chance to get close to him. He had taken his heist performance outdoors to entertain his audience, a distinctive show where an optical illusion made it near impossible to identify the real Kid from seven other remnants. How it had been accomplished, Aoko never found out because of the attack on the venue. An entire audience in terrified chaos when the bullets rained from all angles and even threw the Task Force into an uproar.
The media still aired the news as the only bloody event to feature the phantom thief, even though it had been a month ago.
From eyes to cameras, everyone had eventually laid witness to Kid protecting innocent bystanders and revealing the gunmen that dared to attack. He'd been shot in the process who knew how many times, but he had gone on long enough to run, and whoever had started the attack had followed. People had been injured, but thankfully, no one had been killed. Though the crowds had lessened since that day, there had been something about his bravery and defense that had endeared him to his audience more than before.
Even Aoko's father, Inspector Nakamori, commended him for his actions.
Aoko had been in the audience to support her father, but in the fray, she had almost been crushed in the crowd and had barely squeezed herself into the sanctuary that was a smelly, dank alleyway. And it had been there that she had seen the white-clad figure hunched over on the ground, half-hidden in shadows and gasping for breath. For a dim second, she thought it was one of his panicked cosplayers, but when she got closer, she saw the blood staining the white fabric.
It had all gone downhill from there.
And for one entire month, Aoko hadn't seen heads or tails of Kaito.
There had been no heists, but Kid had sent gifts to victims in the local hospitals and declared a ceasefire with the police until the matter could be resolved. But it hadn't been. Aoko had heard bits and pieces of the investigation on the news, or from what little tidbits she could wheedle out of her father. It was an unsolved, ongoing case. Every day she was confronted by the question: should she tell him? Should she tell her father what she knew?
That's when she realized that she really didn't know anything. She needed to understand why.
"You came back knowing they could have been there!" Aoko said accusingly. "Whoever they were, they could have attacked you again!"
"That old man Suzuki wouldn't have allowed it," Kaito replied. "He's not the kind of person to challenge Kid without setting the appropriate safeguards in place. And nothing happened. No one got hurt."
"And that just makes it okay?" Aoko snapped. "What the hell's wrong with you? Don't you care if something goes wrong? Don't you care if you die?"
Kaito huffed.
"Why does it matter?" he asked quietly.
Then what came out of his mouth shocked Aoko so badly that she stumbled backward and tumbled onto his bed again.
"'Leave me alone, Bakaito! You stay away from me! I hate you! I don't care what you say! You're a criminal and a liar and if you ever speak to me again I still make you regret ever being born! Don't come near me ever again! I hate you! I fucking hate you!'" He paused. "Your words, were they not? Did I leave anything out?"
Those were more than her words. He had taken her voice, every quiver of fury she had bellowed at him, down the pitched cracks from crying, and turned it over like some sort of live recording. Word for word, a truly perfect impersonation. Her breath shuddered; those very words had left her lips in this very room once Kaito had changed into his normal clothes from his Kid attire. That had been the last time she had seen him. It festered at her as if yearning to reinforce her emotions from that day.
"Why are you doing this?" she pleaded weakly. "Why are you making me hate you?"
With soundless grace, he skirted around his room until he stood beside the bed, peering down at her with those beautifully cold eyes. Perhaps they really were sapphires.
"Don't you already hate me?" he asked.
Aoko felt her eyes burn. "I want to hate you! God knows that I do! That I'd whack that look off your face with a mop if it could change anything!" She balled her hands into fists. "But I can't help but think you hate me more! Is that it? You got bored of teasing me all the time so you do this?"
His slip was poorly concealed, a vision of pure confusion. Aoko sniffled as he found his composure and stared at her. She could feel his disbelief even if she couldn't see it.
"Aoko, I wouldn't do something like that," he said firmly. "I didn't become Kid to hurt you. Believe what you want, but I wouldn't stoop that low."
"Well, what else am I supposed to believe? I'm not stupid enough to even think it's one of your practical jokes! And if you won't tell me, then… then…"
For the first time that night, Kaito smiled at her, that familiar roguish grin of a trickster. It had always been an irritating and endearing sight to see, but now it only gave her sorrow, tearing her core apart until it bled out inside her.
"You're a good girl, Aoko," he commented. "No matter how angry you are, you have your limits to what you'll do to hurt another person. You know who I am and you haven't told your father. I wonder why."
She glared at him. "I have no proof. That's why."
He chuckled. "Then I'm hardly one to help you find some," he teased, his tone lacking his usual finesse. "Go home, Aoko. You're father's still working, so he won't be home tonight. He'll never know you were here."
And with that, he turned to leave the room.
Why did her chest hurt so much to see him go? She had a right to be furious with him. Shouldn't she be glad to be rid of him?
"Wait!" she exclaimed, scrambling after him. "Kaito, wait!"
He kept walking without ever turning around. His form blended into the shadows of the unlit hallway, and for a moment, Aoko lost sight of him. But with another flash of lightning, she saw him make his way to the stairs. In a panic, she reached out her arm and grabbed onto his shirt as he made to move away. Kaito yelped in surprise.
"Why are you doing this?" she croaked quietly.
Kaito sighed, his face hidden in shadows. "Please let go, Aoko."
What little strength she had in her refused to listen. She tugged him back into his room and shut the door with a loud bang. His scent was everywhere again, a mixture of roses and gunpowder and that bizarre sweetness of his laundry detergent and something unnameable. Something only he could exude.
Kaito sighed. "Aoko—"
"No, I've had enough." Aoko yanked him closer. "I know you have a reason for this! I know you're not a bad person, Kaito. A complete idiot, maybe, but not bad. Stop making me believe that you are! Tell me, why?"
"Because you're safer that way!"
She stopped breathing.
"Damn it, Aoko, I'm trying to keep you safe!" Kaito said, genuine anger cracking through his armor, face hidden but eyes blazing from the darkness. In seconds, he had her pinned against the wall beside the door. "Those people are after me because I'm after their prize. They'll do a lot worse to get it. So long as I keep them focused on me, I can beat the odds, but I can't do that if you're poking your head into everything!"
Lightning flashed from the storm, illuminating his entire face, eyes pleading; his hands had gripped tightly to her arms, that urgency permeating from his skin to hers from their touch.
Aoko was suddenly very aware that she was half-naked in front of him. This wasn't what she expected to hear from him at all.
"You want them after you," she guessed hollowly, feeling impeccably small in his arms. His gaze diverted from hers to the window. "I won't let you."
He chuckled flatly. "You can't exactly keep me here. And if you talk, that won't stop anything." He sighed and turned back to her. "Please, Aoko, I'm asking you, if you keep my secret, to let it go. Otherwise, just let me go."
He let those words settle in.
Did he really have right to ask that of her? To stand there and just ask her to walk away and let him keep his secrets and risk his life? He had just made it explicitly clear that whether her father knew about him or not, he would continue being Kaitou Kid. Everything pointed to one inevitable fact: he was on a mission, a dangerous one at that, and nothing was stopping him.
"Will you still be here if I do? If I let you go?"
"No."
There it was, that throbbing, tearing ache bleeding out inside her chest, squeezing her heart and smothering her lungs. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought she was in love with him.
'You do such damage. How do you manage to have me crawling back for more?'
Aoko's mouth fell open at the thought, of the few words that had quite literally brought her to this moment, all the while struggling to inhale air to her lungs, but in the end, all she could do was breathe in his scent. She shuddered, completely aware that his hands on hers were strong, calloused and warm. His sapphire gaze was intense. He stood so close to her she caught the lingering scent of mint and chocolate of his lips. Kaito Kuroba was her best friend, infuriating but undeniably magnetic. She couldn't be in love with him. He had been in her thoughts for weeks, torturing her with his absence and his secrets. That wasn't love, it couldn't be…
The burning in her heart was making her delirious.
Aoko's mouth was dry, but she forced herself to ask what she needed to. "Do you really still care about me at all?"
Kaito's grip on her arms loosened, his warm hands glossing down to her trembling, frigid fingers. His mask had returned, concealing the boy she knew behind that statuesque vision of mystery.
"What do you think, Aoko?"
With a flick of his hand, Kaito spun her around in dizzying spirals before releasing her hand. Aoko yelped in surprise and it took seconds to catch her bearings in time to realize that he had vanished again. She heard a clicking noise behind her, but when she turned, she was confronted with the portrait of Kaito's father and nothing else. Kaito had disappeared again. Shaking the dizziness from her head, Aoko hurried out of the room, but from every room to every hallway in the house, she found neither heads nor tails of the young magician.
It was against her will to give up her search, but the unwanted thought had cropped up in her mind's eye. Kaito wouldn't be foolish enough to remain in the house once he got the chance to flee. Because that was Kaitou Kid's mode of operation: steal something precious and flee.
Tears crept up at the corners of her eyes as she returned to Kaito's bedroom out of habit. He had stolen her trust and faith in him, and she ignored that tiny voice that reminded her that he may have stolen more than that. She couldn't bear for something like that to be true. Not now.
From the corner of her eye, something glimmered from the continued lightning flashes from the worsening storm outside. Her head turned to Kaito's bed, where a peculiar object stood out on the pillow. Roughly the size of her hand, made of shining, heavy gold with pincers clasping onto a large gleaming green gemstone, was none other than the expensive brooch her father had been tasked to protect.
"Serpentine Scorpion," she muttered breathlessly, her heart clenching at the reminder of what Kaito had done that night.
Against her better judgment (would it matter if her fingerprints would get on it?), Aoko lifted it from the pillow and caught sight of the two envelopes that had been beneath it, one addressed to her father, and the other to her, both unsealed for easy access. Steadying her breath, she opened the one for her father, reading:
Inspector Nakamori,
This is not the gem that I'm searching for, so I'm returning it to your good hands.
Kaitou Kid.
That little Kid doodle grinned cheekily at her.
Half-tempted to rip it to shreds, Aoko blinked back those furious tears threatening to spill over and tucked the letter back into the envelope with trembling hands, setting both it and the expensive brooch on the bedside table. She picked up the one addressed to her and wondered if would just be better to toss it away and never read what was inside. Kaito didn't have the common decency to trust her or care that he had broken her heart in a way she had never dreamed possible. Still, her hands worked the envelope open and her burning eyes scanned over every word written in Kaito's hand, not printed like Kid's.
The words left her breathless as the tears finally poured down her pale cheeks. She reread it over and over until she hiccuped and collapsed onto his bed, tucking herself beneath his sheets and clutching the paper so tightly that it crumpled.
Aoko,
I never wanted you to find out about this until I knew for sure that I could put everything behind me. I understand if you never forgive me, but if there's a chance that you can, wait for me and I'll tell you everything when its over. If not, forget me and move on. If you tell your father the truth about this, it will put the both of you in more danger. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. Just know that I never did this to tear us apart or to hurt you.
After this heist, I have come to realize that Japan is too narrow in the scope of this bigger picture, so I'll leave, and I know your father won't be allowed to chase after me. My only gift to you is the time I will no longer take from him. It is the only penitence I can offer now. I don't plan on dying, but I have to complete what I started, no matter the cost. Perhaps we shall meet again one day, as friends or foes, we'll see if or when it happens. Regardless, you'll always be with me.
Kaito.
"How could I ever forget you, you idiot?" she sobbed quietly.
Returning the gemstone to her father or even leaving the house was a problem she would leave for later. At that moment, she just wanted the peace to grieve. What kind of guy was Kaito to leave her with this mess? It was near impossible to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, especially if it was leaving. Maybe she was a fool for still being there, heartbroken over someone who didn't deserve it. Maybe she had lost her mind in holding that letter to her chest as if it were more precious than the gem beside her head.
Whatever it was, it was the same will that kept her from uttering those truthful words to her father or ever tossing Kaito's house-keys in a bin or even leaving the warmth of his bed. It held her tight through the fury and the sorrow, pulsing through her being with the certainty of only one thing.
She wanted the truth, no matter how long it took to get it.
'How do you manage to have me crawling back for more?'
How did he, indeed?
~M.K~
FURTHER NOTES:
Someone send help; I'm stuck in an angst corner. I don't know how these two always bring that side out of me but they are slowly taking over my life.
Reviews and criticisms are welcome.
—MELPOMENE-THE-TRAGIC-PARODY, signing out.