Tea, Anyone? Chapter 3: On The Other Side - A Hand, a magic kaito/まじっく快斗 fanfic

Omake: "On The Other Side – A Hand"

Disclaimer: Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny.

AN: Yaaaaay! The Treasured Edition of the Magic Kaito Manga came in just today! I feel so happy right now – and I decided to share some of this happiness with you! Thus, have fun reading this latest installment of my ever-expanding fanfiction Tea, Anyone?

This little Omake is actually inspired by the various dreams Hakuba keeps having in the last two chapters… Also, it's all about that last conversation between the two of them. And maybe a little AU, seeing as here, Kuroba Toichi isn't exactly dead. You are totally invited to read this – as a stand-alone, too, if you want. It does not necessarily belong to the last few pages, even though it's loosely tied to those. I hope you like it! As for the numbers, they have the same number game as a basis. Let's see who can figure them out, shall we? In case you'd like to know their meaning, I'm going to publish that one as the fourth – and last chapter of this particular fanfiction – on the day of the jesters, the 11.11.!

And now, without further ado: Enjoy reading!

XXX

Jû/10

XXX

"You are dead, aren't you?"

What on earth…? It took all his willpower not to outwardly react to that… statement. Yes, it definitely seemed as though the detective in front of him believed that to be true. Other people might have blinked twice, in frank bemusement, at that revelation. A derisive snort left his lips before he could help himself. He wasn't other people. Then again, that didn't mean he couldn't imitate them if need be. Seeing that the sleuth was absorbed deeply in thought, he allowed his eyes to slant a little.

Phew. How to explain? Where should he even start? Letting his head sink a little he was left looking up at the Hakuba heir in puzzlement. "How did the teenager come up with that result in the first place?" he wondered quietly to himself. The young man had yet to react to what he was doing, so he felt relatively safe murmuring things to himself. Why was it that clearing things up was always left to him?

Silently adjusting the lower edge of his white tuxedo jacket, he reflected about the best phrasing for where exactly they were. Well, how could you describe such a thing? Realm came to mind as a close fit for a label, as did Area. There truly seemed no name that suited this place without there being anything missing. Realm was… too broad a term. Place – far too wide; or was it too narrow? Area had the disadvantage of leaving out the factor of non-existence that all these… Planes? shared.

He'd never had to…

Phew, detectives. Nothing but trouble, no matter where they went.

Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes. He felt like rubbing the bridge of his nose, but didn't indulge himself in present company. Gathering himself once more, he regaled the sleuth with a fond look. How come detectives had to be so damn curious all the time? They went ahead, gathering evidence around the clock and every single time they did, they'd inadvertently throw up more questions than they found answers for by themselves. And in the end they'd always leave those trailing faithfully after them to clean up the aftermath and find possible solutions to the dilemmas they manage to unearth.

It was alright in his eyes, as long as they got the answers they set out to get. Smiling a little, he mused to himself that he knew exactly why he felt drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Heavens help him, he knew exactly why he liked detectives.

Languidly, almost hesitantly, he replied – in lieu of a satisfying reply – with a question of his own.

"You detectives… never think to not take a closer look, to – for once – accept what you get as just that, do you?" Of course they wouldn't. To him it was an old, long-asked-and-answered rhetoric question, almost like an old friend that aided him in his times of need and scratched his back for him. If there were thieves in the world, naturally there'd be detectives. And it went without saying that those would be insatiably curious, too.

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

Yes. Because sometimes, it was better not to pry. Sometimes, curiosity could – and would – be punished. As he'd found out the hard way. Funny, that. He'd always thought it would be one of the detectives he spent most of his time with that would be caught up in something like this. Instead, it had happened to him, preparations, plans A to M and beta plans be damned. Wasn't life hilarious, sometimes?

He hadn't missed the frown, nor had he missed the detective's looking around. It was funny, in a way. The older man knew the boy – for it was only a boy he was facing – wouldn't see anything out of place. Really, he almost felt like a mentor-of-sorts, being stuck in this "dream-like" landscape and having those inspiring conversations with the junior sleuth.

The words that the detective uttered next, however, only served to surprise him, negatively, that is – and he might have reacted a little more ferociously than necessary, he conceded belatedly to himself, long after the Hakuba heir had left. Nevertheless, it just wouldn't do for him to become someone other people imitated to the point where an imposter could take his place. And get shot, in the worst case scenario. No, he certainly wouldn't stand by and watch while another person – another thief went and stole his property. Thieves never did share, after all. Well, if they weren't married, that was.

Hopefully, one of his detectives would pick up on the clues he'd left behind soon. After that outburst of his (he'd definitely been there far too long already if he started slipping up!) he hadn't met the teenager again, unfortunately. It was a shame, really. The young man had provided him with good entertainment, playing those conversational games of his!

XXX

Ichi/1

XXX

Finally! Standing in front of his house, he was left wondering how it all had happened. How could he have been this… sloppy, for lack of a better word? He'd been way too confident. Arrogance, some people would call it. "Pride comes before a fall" – and didn't he know the truth of that.

A small breath escaped him, fogging his (fake) glasses a little. Shuffling through the small bag that he'd been given, he quickly found the thing he was looking for. The small letter weighed heavily on his heart. Cradling it carefully in his hands, he sighed. This would come as nothing less than an earth-rocking revelation to his wife and son. Both probably wouldn't know what hit them after he'd stopped explaining. If they even let him get as far as that.

Looking up again, he could only stare forlornly at the house that had been his home, what felt like a year ago. Behind and above it, the night sky unfurled like a blanket, offering calm and peace for his bedlam thoughts.

He felt like a wayward son, coming home after such a long time. Unbidden, tears made their way quietly across his cheeks. Right. Feeling guilty, he couldn't even bring himself to avert his eyes. The lights were on in the living room, and, from where he stood right in front of the house, he could only just make out the light's way out of the kitchen window to the neighboring fence. His family was home, then. That was good and filled him with a sense of rightness that he wouldn't be able to explain if he was asked to.

Just as quietly, a snowflake landed on his nose. What…? Directing his eyes upwards, he saw snow starting to fall. A shaky smile formed on his lips. This gave him all the courage he'd needed to walk up the small walkway to the entrance door and ring the doorbell.

His fingers were shaking, in fact, both of his hands were; badly, at that. He was trembling all over. How would he face them? What would they say? He'd been away for so long already… what had happened in the meantime? What would happen, still? Would they kick him out…? No. That last one was a thought that he could easily negate in his own mind, knowing them as well as he did. But what would they do to him? What would become of him-?

Before he could think any further, he perceived the sound of padded steps on the floor and the door opened. Slowly, almost cautiously he let his eyes travel from the floor where the warm, cozy slippers of the house owner rested over the legs, the skirt and lower part of the apron up to where one hand rested on the edge of the door (the other was most probably locked on the doorknob) and even further up to the face of the person who'd opened the door for him.

A slow, weary though hopeful smile came to his face. To her eyes, he must've looked like a puppy that had come to her door, seeking shelter and food and warmth. It wouldn't be far from what he himself thought of himself at that very moment.

Bringing his left hand up, he pulled lightly at his cheek. Real. He was real. Loosening the death grip that she had on the door, she came closer little by little, step by step. It was a cautious, careful way of approaching something that she hadn't counted on any more. Something that she'd probably thought would never occur again. But in this case, she was the flame and he was the moth. He couldn't stay away from her for long, even if he tried. When she, too, raised her hand and tugged on the cheek – to show he was real, it was him and no one else standing there in her doorway, new tears welled up in his eyes.

When she had reassured herself that it was indeed him standing there and that this was no dream (she'd pinched her own arm briefly to be sure of that after lowering her hand again) tension slowly left her shoulders like the air escaping a balloon.

For a short instant they stood there only looking at one another, sizing the other up and carefully weighing up what response would startle the other person the least. And then, all of a sudden, both came to the same conclusion. At the very same time, they both closed the distance between them and embraced one another warmly, the letter falling to the ground, forgotten for the moment. None of them cared. They hugged, touched and cried in each other's arms like there was no tomorrow.

For the first time in a long while he felt content. Felt safe. Happy.

Because for the first time since long ago he finally knew where his place was. Were he was.

Finally, he was home.