Tea, Anyone? Chapter 2: Sharing Cookies And Cream!, a magic kaito/まじっく快斗 fanfic

Sharing Cookies And Cream~!

Disclaimer: Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny. Which has been inspired by a review this time, so I can't actually say it's mine, either. Do people have rights on plot bunnies? Poor little bunnies, only getting space to run free in people's heads… do they at least get a vote or a veto right? Somebody should write a fanfiction about that – that'd be one I'd definitely be interested in…

AN: Moving on:

Dear reader,

this second part is kind of a funny plot bunny that has been planted in my head upon reading a certain review of the past so-called oneshot only one page earlier…

That is why I invite you to once more prepare a nicely steaming cup of tea, grab some cookies to dump into it, lean back and make yourself comfortable in your chair. It certainly helps getting into the right mood for this continuation-of-sorts.

Additional information: This is only a possible (and I say this veeery cautiously *prodding the idea with a stick from a safe distance away*) continuation of the last page's ficlet; that one can (and was originally intended to) be seen as a oneshot; meaning there actually wasn't supposed to be any continuation at all. In other words, you are happily invited to pretend this following page (and the story on it) does not exist if you do not happen to like what is written here.

It is dedicated to Athina Dark-Angel of Death: thanks for giving my plot bunnies this idea! I quite liked the thread of thought that followed my reading your review… which is why – ta-daa! – yet another (joyously welcomed even if absolutely unplanned) fanfiction output on my part. And it is also dedicated to Abe Lincoln Lover, thank you very much for your guess at what the numbers mean!

Here's a hint for my dear readers: the numbers at the beginning of each section of the chapters are part of the Japanese number game, Goroawase. Yes, the numbers in this chapter also have a meaning.

I hope you enjoy this second installment of my tea party story!

Have fun!

XXX

Hachi/8

XXX

"Certainly, please do join me. I'm having tea. Feel free to pour yourself a cup, as well." Invitingly, he gestured towards the by then well-known second cup he'd once more laid out on the table. The midnight blue cup with its flowery pattern on it did not look as out of place on that rooftop any more as it had at the beginning of their little tea sessions. By then the thief's repeated refusals to let the detective pour the tea for him had been accepted as just another thing to add to the thief's mystery. Paranoia, check.

As the figure came closer to the table, Hakuba concentrated on the task of filling his own cup with the liquid. Cookies were lying in a bowl just besides the sugar. He'd brought all sorts of different cookies, again. Some were leftovers from Baaya's tea session with some of the neighbors' ladies just that afternoon, some of his own preference Saguru had bought just that afternoon. He frowned in sudden unease. The detective couldn't remember buying the cookies.

Where and when that afternoon had he bought those again? Why wasn't his memory dragging forth the information? He knew he couldn't – wouldn't – have forgotten it if it had happened just that day… Goosebumps threatened to make their way crawling up his back.

And in the next moment that was irrelevant, for the thief had gotten into the seat opposite of him. Languidly, the moonlighting magician almost seemed like a cat as he melted more and more into the cushioned foldable chair Hakuba had brought up to that rooftop with him. Yet, something was off.

The steam rose up from the tea cup he now cradled in his hands, to fend off the cool breeze that was blowing away all the clouds that night and also to ground himself. Why wasn't it a full moon yet, he wondered idly to himself, wasn't there supposed to be one that very night? He did feel almost detached from what was going on at that moment. Whenever he tried to get his mind on the thing that really "should matter" at that instant, his thoughts grew blurry and indistinct all of a sudden. Just what was it that felt so wrong in this scene?

Simple, direct thoughts appeared to be more conducive to his peace of mind; they did not disappear from right in front of him and he could still function – meaning react appropriately to any given situation. As if the situation at hand wasn't weird enough, his thoughts and their immediate effacement did not help matters. At all.

Focusing his eyes on the steam coming from the cup instead of thinking too much on nothing and risking the threat of having his thoughts' red thread dissolve, he almost didn't catch the quiet words of the person opposite of him.

"They did steal some in the end, didn't they?" The thief said this almost ruefully, as though mourning an actual person rather than a cookie or two that had gone missing. When the detective looked down at the bowl with the biscuits, he noticed that indeed, yes, it seemed to be lacking quite a few of the sweet chocolate-chip cookies that he distinctly remembered putting there earlier. How come he was able to remember that little detail but had no recollection whatsoever of when or where he'd bought them?

Strange.

It was – off.

But so was the thief. Lifting his eyes slightly, the detective noted that his opposite by then had adopted a blank face, a mask to hide his emotions and thoughts all at once. He should have grown used to seeing it on his declared rival's face by then, however it stung to be thought of as untrustworthy by someone who – by all rights – should know him by then. Why would he orchestrate all these secret meetings, having tea with the thief if he still intended to turn him in? Well, at least he should be looking more relaxed than he was showing the sleuth right then, that the detective was sure of.

In the next second, Hakuba was almost certain that he'd just contemplated something that was not valid for their interaction anymore. There wasn't any question of him turning the other in. He'd thought he'd made that absolutely clear to the thief already…? Hadn't he even told him that when the magician had asked him at one of their previous meetings just where he stood in the "grand scheme of things"? What was going on here?

Straining his eyes, the sleuth's eyes adjusted to the little light that the city around them along with the almost full moon threw at the two of them and he only just managed to glimpse underneath the shadows that the top hat managed to throw over the white-clad magician's face before his quarry adjusted his position anew, hiding his face anew in the shadows coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

What he saw was something he knew for a fact that his classmate didn't have.

What he saw was something that he was sure that his classmate couldn't possibly have acquired within one day only – or, at least, that he was 99.9 per cent sure that his competitor would not ever wear a fake one of while in that white suit.

What he saw was the hint of a well-groomed moustache in the deep shadows that obscured the thief's face.

Suddenly, his world tipped sideways, leaving the teenage-detective severely disoriented and confused.

He woke up in a sweat. Opening his eyes, the detective reoriented himself and discovered that he was lying on the floor beside his bed, tangled up in his sheets and sleeping with his head propped up on the book that he'd put on his nightstand the evening before. He quickly concluded that he'd fallen down, taken the book with him and proceeded to fall asleep once more. Only when he'd sat up blearily, did he realize the time. It was around then that he also realized that he'd be inordinately late for school.

Fifteen minutes later, after having run downstairs in a sprint to grab a short breakfast, he saw the calendar hanging innocently on the wall above the fridge – and that it was a Saturday in early springtime, meaning no school for at least one more day.

XXX

"You might want to add different cookies the next time. They get stolen every so often, after all." He was sitting in front of the thief, again. Right.

"Maybe these troublesome birds won't touch them the next time. What with the crows getting more and more anxious each and every day, however, I would advise you to steer clear of wide, open spaces to have those tea sessions of yours, should you want to continue." The magician was looking at him straight on, as though he was a letter that the other was reading – there seemed to be no space where he could hide- What? Why did he get the urge to hide now?

"After all, crows like to steal." The person opposite him kept his voice easy-going, as if they were discussing the weather or the neighbor's new lawn fence instead of something as important as these secret meetings of theirs. Wait. What was it about the cookies that made him want to justify his actions again? And why did that phrase seem oddly familiar to him?

"And what they steal, they never give back." Hakuba had a weird flashback to another rooftop scene, just like this one and yet different, with a different – or was it the same? – thief sitting right in front of him and speaking these selfsame words. When the kaitô went on, the sleuth realized it was the very same thief that he'd seen in another of his dreams already.

"But I have abused your hospitality too much already, haven't I? It would not do for me to be staying much longer. I shall take my leave now, detective."

But… Kaitô Kid called him Tantei-san, didn't he? Without so much as a further word, the magician in white tipped his head and disappeared into air – right in front of his eyes.

Wait. Was he dreaming, then? He looked around, but didn't see any mirrors or anything. No smoke, either. Nothing. He closed his eyes tightly.

Upon opening them again, he found himself in his own bedroom, lying peacefully on the bed in his pajamas.

No falling out of bed, no sweat and no tangling in the sheets. This had to be the most goosebumps-inducing waking up he had experienced after one of those dreams ever.

No tricks, no traps, no magic. It felt decidedly wrong to the sleuth to just… wake up like this after having chatted with the Kaitô Kid in a dream. With that Kaitô Kid in a dream. That day, he went about his morning routine and his daily activities mechanically, his mind being too far away to be bothered.

It had unsettled him so much that even his classmates noticed.

XXX

"What's up with you?" It was during break time that his alleged tea partner and quarry leaned against his table and touched upon his absentmindedness. Hakuba had been in the middle of eating the bento box that Baaya had prepared for him. He looked up, frankly a bit confused as to what had instigated this question.

Kaito was looking at him from the corner of his eye, waiting for an answer. Around them, the others were chatting animatedly and having their lunch. Anything they would say would most probably not be noticed by anyone of their classmates.

It seemed a bit strange that Nakamori-chan wasn't there, but when he looked around in search of the brown-headed girl, he couldn't make her out anywhere in the class. When had she left? He then glanced up at Kaito questioningly and the other responded nonchalantly by saying "Oh, she's off with Keiko, doing whatever."

Regarding the sleuth with lidded eyes, he continued, "It's not like we're glued together, you know?"

Shaking his head slightly as though to abandon the notion, the detective said, "That's not what I meant. Sorry."

Their… more peaceful… interactions in class had grown in number – not noticeably, but bit by bit every week that he'd been holding the midnight tea parties with the larcenist as his guest. His other classmates didn't even remark upon it any more that Kuroba made time to speak with him alone; in the beginning they'd look at them but go back to their own conversations when it was obvious that no trick would be sprung on the blond and they wouldn't have to go find cover on short notice so as not to become a victim themselves.

That didn't mean that he was less of a victim to the class clown's pranks than the other people in their class, it just meant that "normal conversations" between the two of them without having anything explode were possible. It would be small things that made the magician talk to him a little bit every day – until he found himself having talked with the brunette almost as much as with the inspector's daughter, her being the only other person to see to it that she spoke with him on a regular basis in their class.

"Seriously, what's the matter with you?" The magician had turned around and was examining him as if he was a patient of sorts. Frowning, he felt as though he had to justify something in front of his classmate – but that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"Whatever do you mean? There's nothing wrong with me!" Well, maybe he'd said that a bit more forcefully than necessary, but he'd gotten the message across nonetheless.

Averting his eyes, the self-proclaimed class clown only said, "I didn't mean to imply that." He was looking out the window by then, as though there was something more interesting out there than could be found in both the classroom and their conversation. Sighing, the brunette only told him, "Look, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. But don't go worrying Aoko while you're at it." And with that, he made his way to the front and out of their class room, leaving the detective to ponder his words as well as the dream he'd had just the night before in his absence.

Deep in contemplation, he didn't even notice the rest of the day pass by. Maybe it would be prudent to mention his dreams to Kaitô Kid… or to Kuroba Kaito. Or both of them. Either. Whatever. He saw a headache coming on already. What would that change?

XXX

It was a few nights later that the detective was quite fed up with having this particular goosebumps-inducing dream over and over again with no change noticeable whatsoever and finally made up his mind to just outright mention them to his elusive midnight tea partner. Well, not outright mention them, per say, but something that – to his mind, at least – amounted to the same result.

Close to the end of their meeting – long after the heist was over – he dared to say what was on his mind regarding the matters discussed in this dream. Only after he'd already said his share however, did he wonder just what kinds of consequences this new development might bring with it and what he was signing himself up for, exactly, by saying these words.

"Right, you better take your leave now. We wouldn't want the Crows to get anxious now, would we?

Goodnight."

Not letting any hesitation about his choice of words be seen – they did remind him eerily of what that other thief had told him just the night before –, he set about clearing the table. Kid, on the other hand, had frozen. The detective could see it in his posture, how with his words he'd brought about a change in the other's attitude; nothing had changed outwardly, but the atmosphere and the feeling in the air was different now.

Something in their interaction with each other had altered course and was now steering somewhere else entirely.

No-man's-land.

The Bermuda Triangle would be nothing in comparison.

"Crows?" the word was spoken delicately, carefully balanced and with the feeling of a gamble and barely-avoided risk hanging in the air long after the sounds were gone. That one syllable flowed over the thief's lips as though he didn't use that particular word very often in other people's company. And maybe that was the case.

Not one to be deterred once he'd decided on a course of action, the detective bravely ventured on, making sure to make his utterances seem careless and his attitude suitable for someone knowing something that he would possibly be better of not knowing. He also made certain to keep his voice and sentences vague enough, open enough to leave room for interpretation.

"Yes, sure. The Crows. They always steal the cookies, don't they?"

Somehow the sleuth was sure this utterance harboured far different implications and meanings altogether for the illustrious thief's ears than for himself. He knew that the thief had to then slowly digest, meaning to pick apart and carefully reassemble, the information he'd been given, before he would even consider responding. So Hakuba bid his time cleaning and stowing away his supplies with the limited cleaning tools available to him up there, leaving the thief to stare at the cookie bowl unseeingly for a few moments.

"What makes you say so? Did they bother you before?" He got the feeling that it wasn't real birds they were talking about any more.

"No, they didn't bother me much. But I've seen some of them sneak around the premises of the museum earlier." Hakuba was conscious of his gambling here. It didn't matter that he hadn't truly seen anyone sneak around at that night's heist location, what did matter was who they were in relation to the thief and that the thief believed him – maybe even so much as to reveal who they were in general. And where they stood, he amended belatedly in his mind.

"They bother you, right?" in the sleuth's mind, this was a rhetoric question, really, no answer necessary. But this just served to throw up more and more of them: How could anyone bother Kaitô Kid on one of his heists? What annoyed the thief so much as to be bothered by it? Or maybe it wasn't that he was only "annoyed" by what those… Crows, for lack of a better word, were doing. What was the magician so much against that he not only took notice but that it outright bothered him when other people did it?

"They take lives and hurt people, don't they?" Hakuba wasn't conscious of his wording until after he'd said it. Were they really this careless and indifferent about lives in general that they took them when they pleased? Nevertheless, the thief's by then rigid posture appeared to confirm his suspicions. It was like a light had been switched on in his mind. The sleuth could see clearly just what they'd been talking about all this time. Finally he had all the puzzle pieces he needed to be able to see the whole picture. The pieces assembled themselves to a whole in no time at all in front of his mental eye.

He didn't like what he saw, didn't like it at all.

Frowning in consternation and sudden understanding, he plowed onwards. "How many times was it that they shot you and you couldn't duck in time?"

XXX

The truth hurt sometimes, the detective thought to himself idly after their chat.

Chat… it was more a duel of questions and answers, the thief on the one side forthcoming with revelations that made the hairs on the sleuth's skin stand on end and at the same time withholding information that Hakuba privately thanked him that he hadn't been told. Sometimes, it was better not to know something, even if it was the truth. Sometimes it sufficed to know that there was more – more information, more things happening than were recorded by the police, more to the thief than met the eye.

He wanted to know – some day. Not now. At this point in time, he himself didn't feel ready for what lay beneath the shadows that the thief so loved to hide in, what lay behind all the masks and the misleading words the larcenist offered him. Saguru knew without a doubt that he wouldn't like the thief's tale any more than he liked tonight's revelation.

It was clear to him that the magician had been shot at – even if he hadn't said so himself and diverted the conversation every time it came up – several times already. Most probably he'd also been hit, though the Hakuba heir couldn't make out just how many times. The thought was a sobering one. Kaitô Kid: shot. It seemed almost laughable, ridiculous, that the thief-in-white would be shot, of all things possible, instead of handcuffed and arrested.

This put a much more disillusioning perspective on his constant trying to outwit his classmate and find evidence that proved he was the Kaitô Kid. Suddenly – now that Saguru was informed about another party whose interest didn't only lay in capturing and arresting the kaitô, but who wanted the pesky nuisance dead – he wasn't certain just what would happen once the phantom thief/part time magician was arrested. Would he be dead within hours, days in jail? All of a sudden the Hakuba heir was grateful that he'd found another way to talk with the moonlighting magician, one that didn't include antagonizing the other.

It was later, way later that night when he was already in bed that he found himself properly thinking about what he'd deduced and remembering that other revelation that the thief had bestowed on him of his own accord. What if…?

Earth-shattering was an adjective that might be the closest to what he thought of the deduction he pierced together from all that he'd been told by the larcenist. Yet he felt himself justified in complaining to the white-clad thief the next time they met. Just why did that magician have to make it a habit to surprise him and make him speechless with these kinds of things almost every time they met?

It went almost without saying that the detective found himself lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling for a lot longer than he'd originally intended.

XXX

Kyû/Ku/9

XXX

"You've made quite the impression, haven't you?" The face across from him wasn't seen underneath the hat's shadows, however he got the feeling that the thief was in one of his better moods this time. He would almost say that the other was being… mischievous, if that was the right word for it, – well, more so than usually, at least.

It was that other thief again, this time. Hakuba made certain to differentiate between the two. The more he saw of the thief in his dreams, the more he thought that he costume was the only thing that the two had in common, appearance-wise. As for manners and attitude, however… as far as those went, the two shared more than he thought was possible.

Of course, he'd known that there'd been another thief before Kuroba took up the mantle. It had just slipped his mind to do more than examine what he was presented with by the thief. In retrospect, that seemed like a truly idiotic beginner's mistake.

He was a detective! He should know to do research when presented with a case! In his defense, it was a larcenist that he'd set out to catch, not a murderer, which is why he'd taken his sweet time doing research. It didn't excuse that he'd done almost nothing but analyze the heists that happened so far, but it was something, at least.

It wasn't a pretty admission but he conceded that he had a long way to go and much to learn still. A mental grimace accompanied the thought.

He'd only taken a cursory glance at his classmate, attitude, mannerisms and all, and pretty much immediately decided he was a suspicious person, especially when he'd learned that the amateur magician was close friends with the inspector's daughter and had thus almost free access to any and all heist locations, at one point even having been asked to help catch Kid by the inspector himself!

As for nowadays… Hakuba almost felt like he was… intruding… of all things possible, as though he was going somewhere private, somewhere intimate, somewhere that was off-limits if he wanted for their friendship? camaraderie? to stay intact. That was his most important reason for why he hadn't delved into the thief's background any more than he already had.

But he was getting off-topic. Ah well. You couldn't change the past, right? What was left but to hurl yourself into the future?

Humorously, the magician-thief continued as though nothing was the matter when his first exclamation was met with silence, "Not as good as that other one, but still. You are closer."

Lifting an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge, he went on, "Beware, what's coming to you in the future is different. Will you be ready for this? Please consider your answer carefully."

The silence this time around was almost palpable. Heavy was the air that he breathed in, heavy the things that bore both his heart and mind at all times nowadays.

In the end, the answer was as easy as to pour himself a new cup of tea had been. Grimly, he stared at the person opposite of him. Mentor, Family member or whatever he may be to the Kaitô Kid active now. His answer would have been the same, he knew, had it been Kaito that sat in front of him right then. And, he reflected, his answer was as British as his heritage was, especially because he spoke the second half in Japanese. All of his ancestors' pride would be tied into this.

With a smirk, he said, "In for a penny, in for a pound. I made my decision."

XXX

Kaito was staring up at the ceiling. It was boring, not having anything to do but wait. The plans for the upcoming heist have already been finished, as has been homework and the housework. His mother was absent, again, being in Kyoto visiting an old friend of hers this time. Aoko and her father had gone out for dinner, so calling her up was no choice, either. That left him with nothing more to do.

Really, sometimes it would just be convenient to have a sort of anti-boredom plan or plaything randomly lying around in his vicinity for whenever he needed one. That reminded him! He could still – dang the thought – brush up on a few of the updates on laws that concerned his night-time profession. Thus, with a decidedly unfavourable expression on his face, he reached for the booklets and started leafing through them.

In the end it wasn't his fault that, about half an hour later, his eyes drooped and he slowly but surely leaned downwards to rest his head – only for a few minutes, mind – on the booklet that he was reading and he promptly fell asleep.

... where was he again? Ah, right. He was on the rooftop. Anytime now, he should be able to hear Nakamori-keibu's healthy, loud voice, bellowing about yet another failed capture. And there'd be sirens. And then he'd look for Tantei-san's location and make his way there. He'd use the shadows, this time. The last time he'd used his hang glider – it had almost been reckless, even for him.

Hopefully, Snake hadn't picked up on Tantei-san's little after-heist tea sessions with him. And hopefully the detective had been able to choose a better position than last time. Last time had been just a little bit too close to the heist location (and the shootings) for comfort.

Well, at least this time's heist target was lying safely stowed away in his backpack. Wait, what had he been after this time again? Was it a gem, a statue, a small figurine? He... couldn't remember. His memory had grown... annoyingly and worryingly hazy around the edges.

He frowned. It had never failed him yet. Why was it doing this now? But seeing as trying to remember only brought an uncomfortable pain to his head, he decided on a better course of action: not to think about it until it was necessary. After all, it wasn't important for the now-and-here what exactly he'd been after this fine evening, was it? He could always simply check once he'd touched down on that roof where the Hakuba heir was sitting, drinking tea. Right?

So that was where he went. Guided by his instincts (for he couldn't actually bring himself to remember where exactly the tea-set-up had been, this time), he pretty much followed his nose, so to speak. And he hoped it wouldn't lead him on a wild-goose-chase.

Ah, there they were, the sirens. They were a welcome, familiar sound to his ears, tonight. At least one of the things that were working how they should be. If he'd known he'd ever take comfort of police sirens – of all the things out there that he could take comfort from – he'd have recorded them a long time ago. Making a mental note to do so at his earliest convenience, the thief made his way onto the rooftop that the tea session was to be held this time. Only now that he thought about it did he notice that he indeed was wearing the suit that marked him as the Kaitô Kid. Funny, how that worked.

Not letting anything disturb his peace of mind tonight, he nimbly climbed over the edge of the roof and had a small smile graze his face when his gaze met his current host. His eyes however, landed on a rather strange sight upon him entering the scene, for it wasn't the detective that was sitting there, lounging comfortably in the chair, but someone else entirely.

It was a person who was shrouded in darkness and it seemed almost as though the shadows were moving around him, darting here and there and around the person's upheld finger in a friendly gesture. What the hell?

"Is something the matter?" a bass voice not quite called out to him. Whoever that was, he was a friend. Well, as much as anyone who didn't shoot at him at first sight could be called a friend, he conceded in his mind. The voice, on the other hand... there was something familiar about that voice, something special that drew at his heart; a long-lost friend, an old, forgotten memory. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to remember.

"Ah, I am sorry, but I did expect someone else here. And you are...?" Not the politest of his approaches, but as long as it worked... and, to be fair, he did feel a little out of his depth here, too.

A smile scurried over the mysterious person's face as he replied, "... not anyone as important, I would imagine." A short pause, in which the shadows around his mysterious opposite shifted only so much as to let him glimpse the colour of the lower part of the suit which he was wearing. White. And blue socks that disappeared in sparkling white dress shoes. What the-?

"A word of caution, however, may not go amiss here, I believe. Do believe me when I say that they have become far more active recently and that you should better be found in a detective's presence more often than not in the close future."

What in heaven's name was going on...? Speechless was probably the best description for what his reaction was. Like a bird, he tilted his head to the side with a questioning hum, while inside, his mind was whirring.

His conversational partner, however, gave off the air of one apologetic, and, instead of elucidating his warning, he only said, "Excuse me, but I cannot say more on this. I have been breaching rules and bending laws as much as I was allowed already. Please heed my warning. I am sorry I cannot help more."

It was only when the setting, the scenery and the sole figure sitting there at that table grew blurry, that Kaito finally put the pieces together and realized just who it was that had been speaking to him. In response to an as-of-yet unasked question – and before everything floated away just like that – he managed to get out the words, "I miss you too. Love you, Otou-san." with a bittersweet smile on his face before everything went dark.

When he woke up again, it was with a severe headache, and the feeling of danger looming just outside of his eye range; which, frankly, irritated him to no end. Sighing, he collected both the booklet and himself. It was beyond ten already, so going to bed was acceptable in his book. Putting the booklet onto his desk to be set aside for another perusal in the (hopefully later) future, he made his way over to the bed. As he'd already brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed before falling asleep in that slightly cramp-inducing position over that booklet (he rubbed his neck in annoyance at that), he could just about fall into bed without further ado. One more thought went through his head, before he was out for the count that day.

"Otou-san, what am I to do?"

XXX

He was running. Why was he running? The stars whizzed past while he was trying to understand where he was running to – and what he was running away from in the first place. Or, those weren't stars. Those were neon lights; lighting up the area like it was Christmas again. To him, though, they were stars, nonsensical lights that pointed him the right way. Left. Straight ahead, then the third right. There.

Jumping over the railing of the upper end of the staircase, he sprinted down. It led him to a small place – open, easily visible, must hide, now! – which he was already moving away from in the time that it took him to form these thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of something sparkling black about 500 meters behind him. Sniper rifles. Great.

Like a rabbit, he chose an intricate course through the district's smaller side streets and alleyways. Hopefully, he'll be able to lose them soon. Clutching tonight's gem, put in a case that was wrapped in a dark cloth as protection, safely under his left arm he ran.

XXX

It could have been ten minutes, an hour or more before he finally let himself slow down. Catching his breath underneath a lamp post, he looked around once more. Phew. Looked like he'd gotten rid of them. And it seemed as though he was closer to the JR station to go back to Tokyo, too. Win-win on both accounts! A triumphant smile span over his face in no time.

Pulling out a folded map of the area (tourist info centers always were the most informative places to go!) he conceded that, well, it still was some ways to go. Judging from the weather forecast, the wind should be decent for a little flight, too. And, ah, there was a hospital placed right around the corner. Shifting a little, he could just make out the helicopter landing place from where he stood.

Who was he to say no to such a convenient set-up?

XXX

With horror Hakuba could only just see the Kid – Kaito, a quiet voice in his head informed him snidely – get hit by the sniper before the glider turned sharply and descended at an alarming speed. There wasn't much more he could do himself other than run towards the most likely point of impact, carrying both a heavy heart and the knowledge that he'd known.

He'd known…!

XXX

Both thief and detective lay awake in their respective beds for a long time after they woke up from this nightmare, neither knowing about the other's night plight.

XXX

The next time that Hakuba was conscious that he was in fact in a dream and sitting opposite that thief once more, he had already poured himself a cup of tea and was cradling it in both hands in his lap, watching the steam rise up tranquilly.

"Help, would you? You have gotten good at that. You have come close."

All of a sudden, the sleuth's mind was filled with an irrational calm, something he'd never felt come over him before in the face of such an illogical phenomenon. What came out of his mouth next did not bear any relation to the thief's sentences at all, but was a new idea entirely.

"You are dead, aren't you?"

It had ghosted through his thoughts more than once already, the notion that all this time he'd been talking to someone who'd died already, who was gone, but still there. The notion that there'd been someone sitting in front of him whose purpose in life had been as great as to keep him tied to earth, the real world, this side, or whatever else it may be called still.

When he – just barely – understood that the other had let out a quiet snort at that, his world tilted a bit to the side. Had that been because he didn't know that he was dead (poor soul) or because he thought the detective was wrong?

Dumbfounded, the sleuth wondered when his sense of reality had slipped so much that it merrily went down a slide together with his logic and rationality. Who knew where that slide went, the only thing he was sure of was that he'd probably never see them again in the thief's presence – in any of the thieves', really. What was it about the two magicians that made him doubt his own sanity and the hold that he had on the truth?

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't catch what the thief was saying next. "You detectives… never think to not take a closer look, to – for once – accept what you get as just that, do you?" What did that have to do with…? What was the thief playing at? Before Hakuba could form even one counter thought, the other had gone on already.

"I do not feel like justifying myself to you in this room. Let us say that here, I am just as real as you."

A frown marred his face, as he contemplated what in heaven's name the white-clad magician could have meant with these words. What did he mean, "in this room"? Hastily, he looked around him, making sure that yes, they were sitting on top of a rooftop still, there even being a light breeze that played with his hair, almost in a gesture of reassurance. An eyebrow went up in the blond detective's face.

Was the magician hallucinating? In a dream? Was that even possible? The other eyebrow joined the first. What he didn't know was how to go on from there. But then that wasn't necessary any more – someone seemed to have laid the words he'd need right into his mouth. He only had to speak them. Nevertheless, the next few, rather sarcastic words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could properly think about them.

"Is that – are you saying you are the real Kaitô Kid?"

Surprise – or was that shock? – won over any other feelings that the thief might have exhibited, and with entirely too much indignation (in the sleuth's eyes), the magician made to "defend his honor", so to speak.

"What in – of course I am the real Kaitô Kid! There is only one of me in existence! Everybody else you may have met is, consequently, quite obviously an imposter. Oh, pray tell me, who was the person behind the mask that you've met wearing my suit?" His white-clad tea partner leaned forward expectantly at that.

Well, he supposed it was only fair that Kaitô Kid felt territorial concerning his reputation and public image. Well, if he wasn't dead, then there was only one explanation left for what he was seeing. This had to be a dream, then, if it wasn't a real scenario. He paused in thought. Had this ever been real to begin with? This situation had been abstruse and very much abstract from the very beginning. He couldn't say for certain if he'd dreamt up this version of the Kaitô Kid to differentiate him from his classmate or if he was confronted with a version of the Kaitô Kid that he'd had before they'd officially met for the first time.

Not that a dream-Kaitô Kid would act any different than Kuroba Kaito would. After all, the two of them were slowly getting to know one another and those were Hakuba's dreams, weren't they? The Kaitô Kids in his dreams – dead or not – were apparently molded after his impression of the real Kaitô Kid (even if he didn't understand how exactly the moustache came into being; a defense mechanism of his mind to compensate for his guilty conscience of having started those tea sessions with the thief?).

Understandably, both would act and re-act if not in the same fashion, then at least similarly.

And then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. Everything was over once more and he found himself lying on his stomach on the bed, having moved to the far left hand side sometime in the middle of the night. When he looked around he quickly found the reason for his disorientation. His feet were lying across the cushion at the head of the bed, while his head was lying at the very end of the bed. He must have turned around sometime during the night, while asleep. How he'd managed to do that without waking himself up in the process, however, was a mystery for another day.

XXX

Hachi/8

XXX

The next few nights – all the way up to the next Kid heist, to be honest, Hakuba only saw the by-then-familiar Kaitô Kid persona from afar, sitting at the tea table, and staring forlornly up to the moon. He would then wake up in a cold sweat, after having looked at the white-clad magician for half an eternity, feeling-wise. The detective couldn't make heads or tails from it, however, and he wasn't even able to approach the other man any more, either.

This was a very frustrating situation for the young sleuth who was used to – if not gathering clues and hints about the situation he found himself in then at least talking to people in order to find out things. It was extremely annoying, to say the least. The dreams having put him in quite the foul mood, the sleuth was feeling wisps and whispers of that dark disposition then. Still, even those sufficed to render him acerbic and his words cutting. Naturally, he didn't think the thief was responsible for his dreams, but he felt like his classmate-in-disguise was the only person that he could tell about those dreams, if not outright accuse for giving him those nightmares all along. So close to the end of their next tea session, he breached the subject.

"No one likes imposters, least of all you, I have to concede that. Why in heaven's name is it, however, that I am being haunted by a Kaitô Kid imposter in my own dreams of all places? What do you have to say to that?"

The figure in white stilled, its whole body having gone rigid at the biting remarks Hakuba threw in the thief's general direction. He'd long since abandoned the idea of standing still while recounting just what had been plaguing him all those nights and was moving around, walking up and down the rooftop, from one side to the other in obvious agitation.

"An imposter, you say?" The magician was abnormally calm in the face of such a far-fetched accusation, leaving the implication of him being somehow involved in the detective's dreams' conversations and actions hanging in the air like one of his gliders, circling the room and slowly but steadily losing height in the process. The Hakuba heir himself thought the idea very much ridiculous, however the little true sleep that he'd gotten the nights before wasn't allowing his head to think all too clearly at the moment, apparently only giving him half of the power that his brain usually ran on and leaving him with half of the puzzle in the middle of the night. Admittedly, he felt as though he was drunk somehow, his brain's responses were that sluggish.

Nevertheless, he managed to reply to the other's question.

"Yes, an imposter. And quite a bad one at that, too. Why my brain decides to think up people who are dressed as you but do not look like you at all may remain a mystery, nonetheless, seeing as I have never seen a Kaitô Kid imposter with a moustache yet and-"

"A moustache, you say?" The moonlighting teenager cut his rant off rather more abruptly than he'd ever been cut off by neither the thief persona nor his classmate until then. Inclining his head a little in an unspoken affirmative, the detective stayed quiet. Saguru had already been wondering why the thief hadn't offered one insult yet in answer to his (to his mind) rather absurd claims. Yes, there was a moustache on the face of the Kaitô Kid imposter in his dreams. And didn't this declaration sound weird to his own ears? A lengthy silence followed the thief's utterance in which Hakuba contemplated the reasons behind telling the kaitô about his dreams.

What would change? What would this make the thief do? Would this carelessly thrown-in comment about an imposter in his dreams inadvertently change their admittedly strange relationship? Would they even have those tea sessions anymore? Would the thief come to the next one? He found himself hoping that the larcenist did not think it prudent to stay away from their meetings. It was unreasonable, but the blond half-foreigner already counted his classmate to his friends – what few of them there were in Japan – and did not feel inclined to stop this friendship, as unorthodox as it was, anytime soon.

Before he could think further on any of these later thoughts, he found himself breaking the by-then slightly oppressing silence. "Yes, a moustache. What... what do you make of it?" What's it to you? The question – phrased as crudely and impolitely as it was – stayed in his head, even though the thief appeared to get the message. But, as with more than a few of his other questions, the kaitô did not deign to answer it, but replied with a question of his own instead.

"Say ... if I were to come to your doorstep, bound and gagged, what would you do?" He blinked. Befuddled, he regarded the white-clad illusionist. And blinked once more, for good measure. What was he up to now?

Opening his mouth, Hakuba was on the verge of asking him just that – when his mind caught up to the question, as out-of-the-left-field as it was. It had come totally out of the blue, which made thinking about it not easier in any way. What would he do in such a situation? Let the thief in. Ungag him; untie him. And stay on the lookout for any suspicious people watching. The replies came to him without hesitation. His attitude sure had done a one-eighty in the time that they'd attended those tea sessions, his mind supplied without prompting. So he communicated these solutions that he'd found to the question to the thief, just as they were, as quickly as possible. He himself wasn't sure why but he felt that time was of the essence in responding to the thief's question.

"I'd make you come in. Untie you. And try to find out who bound and gagged you in the first place."

Bemused, he could literally observe some tension leaving the thief's shoulders, as small as the signs were. Some kind of conclusion had been drawn, he knew. It was some kind of resolution that Kuroba had come to. What had he decided on?

"Then, Tantei-san, let's move this somewhere else, shall we? I would hate to think you didn't get enough sleep tonight, after all." And with those words, the white-clad magician lived up to his name and disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving the sleuth to clean up the tea set and table and chairs. What the-?

A short puff of air escaped him while thinking about the magician's latest stunt. Calmly, he gathered everything up once more and packed his tools away. It seemed they'd outlived their purpose, hadn't they? Because even though a question was still running merrily around in his head ("What had that all been about?"), he knew the thief would answer it soon. Very soon, if he interpreted the signs correctly. And he'd go about it in an extraordinary way, too. It just wouldn't suit the maverick larcenist if the things he'd tell him wouldn't pull the rug right out from under his feet as the other declarations had done.

Sometime in the future, he vowed to himself, he wouldn't be shocked by any of the things that the thief pulled any more.

XXX

And when on the next day, after school had let out and he'd come home already, he found one Kuroba Kaito standing sheepishly on his doorstep, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something about a question he had concerning the homework they'd been given, he wasn't fooled for a second. A warm smile making its way onto his face, he welcomed him in. Noticing the genuine small smile he got in return, he knew that everything would come out into the open, for now, they were somewhere that they could speak without any secrets or misunderstandings holding them back at last.

Directing his guest to the living room while he himself walked to the kitchen to prepare some tea and hot chocolate, he mused that finally, finally, he'd be catching up to the other and be on the same page, for once.

The time for their friendship to come out into the open had begun.

AN: I realize that this is coming a little late now, however I just wanted to say it: I have to warn you that Hakuba's portrayal might seem slightly off because for the most part I just haven't written/read anything about him for ages that I could personally say truly suits his character (also because his character just isn't truly explained yet in both the manga and the anime in my opinion) and am simply not being guided by his character anymore; that happened in the last installment; now it was more Toichi/Kaito as Kid who managed to get a hold of my fingers/hands and started typing things out…

About his character in the previous chapter: in my opinion that was far more in-character than this one, even the "kept wanting to giggle"-part, because I personally think that having tea, of all things possible for Hakuba to think of in order to catch the thief, that was one of the most ridiculous plans that Hakuba could actually think of to initiate by himself. All other things that Hakuba gets caught up in are usually in some form orchestrated by Kaito. Never does the Hakuba heir start something of his own, something ludicrous enough that the thief would consider joining him and yet with as much dignity as he is allowed to have in such a situation.

He keeps trying to giggle because a) it's embarrassing as hell if you're a detective drinking tea on a rooftop with a thief; it's not if you're alone, but as soon as the thief enters the equation, everything quite literally goes to lala-land. Ever heard of "The 12 Tasks of Asterix"? There's a place in there that's called "The Place That Sends You Mad". (on a side note: I can totally recommend it to anybody interested in having a good laugh!) Being in close proximity to Kaito – and Hakuba is, for a rather long period of time, if you count school, as well, – kind of is like being in that house for a prolonged amount of time, at least that's what I think. I'm surprised Hakuba is coming across as lucid as he is, in the last chapter. Am I making sense still? Ah well.

Thank you very much for reading!