Someone Out of Town

by kaitothegreat

A dream is just a dream; it means nothing and has no relation to the real world. That is, if you aren't dreaming about someone else's memories. SoulMate-ish!AU

2. Epiphany

Someone Out of Town (2)

---

.

Flames.

Flames everywhere.

'Dad?'

Smoke.

Smoke everywhere.

'Where are you?! Dad?'

A choke.

Burning throat.

There was a shadow in the flame.

A gasp.

It was a shadow of a man.

A small, child-sized hand reached out towards the faint outline of the man.

'Dad! Don't go!'

The shadow disappeared.

Everything collapsed.

.

It wasn't as if Aoko never had nightmares before.

There were times when she dreamt of the night her mother died, or times when she dreamt that her dad died too, in the same hands of the people who killed Kaitou Kid. But no matter what the nightmares were, she would never wake up choking like she was about to die, and having her chest reacting so painfully like a wolf had torn her ribcage apart and was eating its way to her heart.

She never once did, until now.

Aoko flung up from the bed and gave a shout that was loud enough to return an echo in her ward. The blanket had been kicked away and pooled on the ground, but she was still hot. She tugged her hair away from her sticky neck, though it didn't ease her discomfort at all.

Hot… hot!

She closed her eyes in attempts to calm and cool herself down.

Even when she was conscious, the dream still felt vivid in her mind. The sights of the dancing flames… the sounds of crackling fire and faint screams… the heat from the fire and, oh, the smell.

The smell of burnt flesh.

Flinging her eyes open, Aoko slapped a hand over her mouth and pushed herself off the hard bed and towards the bathroom inside the ward. She knocked onto an empty bed next to hers and finally staggered her way to the door.

It was lock.

"I'm using it." A voice of an old lady yelled from inside.

"S-Sorry." Aoko could only manage a whisper before dashing out of the ward.

The scent of medicines and chemicals was much stronger outside and it helped to relieve her, but she still needed to release the pent up discomfort in her chest. After figuring out the direction signs, she dragged herself to a nearby restroom and spent the next ten seconds choking air into the basin.

It was always like this after every weird dream she had. Feeling lethargic, feeling excited, feeling disappointed… feelings that she couldn't comprehend. Although all of them faded almost as fast as it came, this was the first time it felt so physical and lasted so long.

She turned on the tap, letting the water to rinse the basin. She felt a little better, but her reflection in the mirror said otherwise; Her lips were pale as ghost and the shadows under her eyes looked like a water reflection of a cave…

Unable to stand it, she began splashing the water onto her face. The cool water managed to give her a sudden dose of energy, but it was as long as the time she continuously slap the water against her cheeks. When she stopped, her weariness kicked in almost as fast as a bullet train.

Aoko looked into the mirror again.

It was the same, though perhaps a little better, she wasn't sure. It might be some psychological effect, but at least the good splash of water subconsciously comforted her to think she didn't look like a zombie that escaped an infected hospital anymore.

Giving a dejected sigh, Aoko turned the tap off and grabbed a few napkin to dry the trails of water that was dripping down her chin. She left the restroom after she was done and stood along corridor, suddenly unsure where to go. She still felt drained and tired, but she didn't want to stay in the hospital either. Despite being here so many times, it, of course, didn't contain any happy memories to distract her enough from whatever that had happened.

All of the sudden, a low growl echoed just loud enough for Aoko to be curious and turn her head towards the commotion.

"She's not in her ward." Gritted teeth. "Did she discharge herself?"

"But the records didn't indicate any of her—"

Aoko gasped when she realised what the cause of the little fuss at the nurse-reception counter was. "D-Dad?"

She was sure her voice was soft, but somehow, her father heard her. He spun around, his eyes darting across the corridor until they landed on her. He heaved out a loud sigh and began trudging towards her after giving the nurse a curt nod of thanks.

"Where did you go?" He grumbled, his brows creased in worry rather than anger. "I rushed down here after the hospital called me and I couldn't find y-"

Aoko closed their distance with two skips. But at the third step, she jumped, and her arms neatly wrapped around her father's stiff neck. Though he was strong and sturdy enough to handle her weight and impact, he did stumble a step back from the shock.

"Are you... okay?" He spoke and shifted his head slightly to look at her.

"I'm fine." Aoko sniffed, inhaling the scent she missed from her old home, like it was the oxygen she needed to breathe (She was honestly better now). After staying in their position for a few more seconds, she finally broke the hug to look at her father's face. She wasn't surprised at his stunned expression, but it did made her chuckle.

Her father didn't join in her soft laughter. "There's something wrong, isn't it?" He looked at her in concern, perhaps wondering if his daughter had went bonkers.

/ 'Dad! Don't go!' /

Aoko shook her head. "I miss you, that's all."

He blinked, taken aback. There was a short, awkward silence before he glanced passed her shoulder, seeming sheepish to look at her in the eye. "Well... I... miss you too." He replied softly.

She couldn't blame him, really. When was the last time she mustered the courage to say such cheesy words to her father? Though Aoko was partially sure that nightmare had something to do with her unnatural act of courage and bluntness, she didn't find the need to rectify what she did. It wasn't a mistake. It was the truth anyway.

The troubling thoughts about the nightmare still etched in her mind, but she decided to push it aside and let it haunt her later tonight. As for now, knowing that her father was here, and still with her... That was all that really mattered.

.o.

Kaito clenched his teeth, allowing only a tiny wince to escape his lips. He took in another deep breath and pinched the tweezers again, pulling out the last piece of shattered glass stuck in his palm before dropping it into the small pile of bloodied, broken glass inside the bin.

Though Kaito had worse injuries than this, what made it troublesome was it happened to his right hand; the hand he used to shoot card guns and pick locks the most. Now, he couldn't even move his thumb well without feeling a sharp, tingling sensation down his entire arm (One of the glass pieces might have struck a nerve or some sort).

But nonetheless, he was still lucky; Lucky enough to escape with just a hand injury and not having half of his body burnt to crisp.

After Kaito dumped his motorbike at a corner and sprinted to the fire scene, he realized he was a little too late to help (in a good way). Most people had fled, and for some blessed reason, the casualties who couldn't escape were sitting in an orderly manner by the pavement, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Still, he continued looking around, trying to find if there were people who still needed help.

And then he spotted a little girl trudging towards the building.

"What are you doing?!" He dashed over and caught the girl's arm before she could take another step. He wasn't sure if his intimidating black helmet or unintentional strong grip scared her enough to fill her eyes with tears, but the situation was too dangerous for him to care about that.

"My bear..." The little girl sobbed, pointing at the rubbles just before the aflame building. "My bear is over there..."

"It's too dangerous." Kaito shook his head and pushed her towards the direction of safety. "I promise I'll get you your bear. But you have to promise me that you'll go to the pavement and stay there. Okay?"

"O-Okay."

And then after he watched the girl leave, he skipped past shattered debris and rocks and–

/ "Don't go!" /

Even after all these years, Kaito could still close his eyes and picture the memory at will; the memory of the night when he watched the flames leaped and twirled in a fiery dance, engulfing the man he loved the most in the world. The sound of fire crackling... the pillar collapsing... the ceiling caving in...

Basically, he remembered everything.

That was why when he heard the two words... he almost thought he was hearing his own voice.

What sorcery bullshit is this?

It was over, anyway. He had more things to care about now. He needed to buy the little girl a new bear, and he needed a new helmet too. And most certainly, he needed at least a day inside Kid's secret room to distract himself from the memories he didn't feel like remembering at the moment.

After emptying the bottle of saline water over his hand, Kaito dumped it into the bin and took the roll of white bandages from the kit.

For starters, he hoped this would be enough to distract him from any thoughts for the next ten minutes at least.

.o.

26 casualties. 0 killed.

Zero.

The nightmare had stolen Aoko's senses to think straight for the rest of that day, and she had stupidly and completely forgotten about the fire explosion until the next morning when she read the news. As if to make up the effort for it, she spent her entire journey ride to work thinking about the link between the trigger of her nightmare, the fire incident and the black helmet man.

Should it have mattered? Could it have mattered?

But more importantly there wasn't any death, and it would be safe to say that the black helmet man was part of the casualties count, or even better, fine and well. It could be all thanks to his helmet, but Aoko felt good to know that maybe (even if it was just three percent of the reason), her warning shouts had helped him in some way or another.

To put it positively, the nightmare might be a blessing, at least to the helmet man. To her… not really. To the boy who suffered in her dream… not at all.

She must be going insane; to feel for someone in the dream when she didn't even know the person at all (She didn't have any relapse after she left the hospital, but her heart would sink if she tried recalling it). Reassuring Keiko that everything was fine was almost just as hard as reassuring herself now. To top it off with occasional odd behaviours, it was getting harder and harder to simply brush it off as stress from work. It was too real to ignore it as something her brain randomly whipped up.

And furthermore… she hallucinated the fire dream even before she dreamt of it.

With Keiko's wild imagination, she bet her reasoning would go about after-life, reincarnation or even possessing clairvoyant powers. With her father's no-joke demeanour, he would sent her off to let a doctor check on her mental health.

But Aoko felt what she was going through was neither. The senses of familiarity… the realness of her dreams…

She felt like she had tapped into someone's soul.

Then again, what sorcery bullshit is this?

So, instead of figuring out what her problem was (since all the answers she had were crazy), she decided to focus on the source of the nightmare.

After dutifully finishing her paperwork, Aoko excused herself from her desk and headed to a couple of floors above, where the storage room filled with all the cold-case files were. She was currently on the sixth file she took out from the fire-related shelves and was reading about a fire that broke out in a hotel. She still wasn't even sure what she was expecting at all, but she continued flipping through and basing everything on her instincts.

"Aoko-chan?"

She straightened her posture in surprise and turned, her hair whipping so fast that some part of the ends accidentally got into her mouth. She sheepishly tugged her hair back and behind her ears, watching Daisuke, one of members from the Criminal Affair's department, walking towards her. It was a little late to try hiding the file in her hands when his eyes moved even faster.

"What case are you reading?" He looked at her. "It looks quite old."

Aoko glanced down at the content in the file. Now that she cared enough to notice, the pages were slightly yellow and dusty. "Nothing much." She answered, while mustering a smile that revealed nothing of her thoughts.

She wasn't sure if Daisuke got the hint that she didn't want to explain her reasons, but he did what she exactly wanted him to do; to not ask further. He simply nodded, ending the conversation.

"And you?" Aoko asked back, mostly out of politeness.

"I just finished running an errand for Inspector Hakuba when I saw you here." Daisuke pointed at the large glass window behind Aoko; the evidence. "Thought I could drop a hello." He smiled.

Aoko wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like she disliked Daisuke. He was a nice guy, but she didn't expect anyone would go all the way out to greet her. Still, she was grateful, and she decided a little distraction with all the readings about charred bodies and burnt-down buildings would be a little nice at the moment.

"Speaking of which," Aoko closed the file in her hand. "Inspector Hakuba's wedding is around the corner, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Daisuke said, but his eyes immediately turned downcast at the topic, making Aoko slightly guilty and wondering if she said something wrong.

"Something the matter?"

He flicked his gaze to her. "I haven't gotten a gift yet."

Oh.

"A-Actually I was thinking if you can… advise me about it?" He blabbered the last part of his sentence, as if the words were burning his tongue.

Aoko blinked. "Shouldn't you know better since he's your chief?" She wondered out loud. "Comparing to you, I'm not that well-acquainted with Inspector Hakuba."

"You'd been to Inspector Kudo's wedding, right?" Daisuke chipped in. "At least you have some experience in gift choosing."

"Well…"

"Just a quick chat over lunch." Daisuke pressed his hands together in a form of a prayer. "Alright?"

Aoko didn't have the heart to say no (It had been one of her tragic traits since a long time ago). Sighing inwardly, she gave in and nodded to his request, and a smile instantly lit up his face, so bright itmmade Aoko's eyes squint.

"That's great!" He exclaimed "So I'll see you la—"

"Hitting on Aoko-chan again, eh? Daisuke."

Both of them turned to stare at the source of the voice, and there, leaning against a shelf with arms crossed was Akira, Aoko's colleague and another member from the Kudo Special Task Force.

"What the heck d-do you mean?" Daisuke scowled, though the blush betrayed the solemn demeanour he was striving for.

"You know what I mean." Akira cast a judging look.

"I'm leaving." Before he stomped past Akira, he turned towards Aoko and mouthed See you later before walking out of the room.

Akira scoffed at Daisuke's departing figure until his shadow was gone. "What does he want from you?" She asked.

"He wants my advice with choosing a gift for Inspector Hakuba's wedding." Aoko opened the file, continuing where she left off as she flicked to the next page.

"Excuses." Akira rolled her eyes. "He's obviously hitting on you."

"I think he's serious about the gift though." Aoko raised an eyebrow when she noticed Akira's slight pout. "If I didn't know better… I would say you're jealous."

"No!" Her shout echoed, and if it wasn't Aoko's imagination, she thought the files on the shelves moved.

"Fine, if you say so." Aoko chuckled. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"Oh, right." Akira slapped a hand over her forehead. "I almost forgotten; Inspector Kudo is gathering everyone for a meeting."

"A new case?" Aoko stuffed the file back into the shelf, her senses on high alert.

"Not sure, but most probably." Akira stared down at her watch. "We should go now." She said, and jogged to the door.

Aoko dusted her hand and followed, but she stopped, and retraced a few steps back until the spot where she last slotted the file she just read. Her eyes glanced to the next file, and she mentally marked the number in the head (She would start from there if she had the time to come back down again).

#289: Kuroba Toichi

Nodding to herself, Aoko left the room.

.o.

It would be a lie if Aoko say she didn't take Akira's words seriously.

When she agreed to advise Daisuke during lunch, she thought it would be over a cup of coffee from the vending machine and perhaps a sandwich from the cafeteria. She wasn't expecting to go to a nice restaurant where there were professionals playing piano and waiters offering them their collection of wines (Of course they didn't get it. There were going to go back to work).

She was doubtful and awkward like a rock at the first half of the meal (Aoko ate pasta while Daisuke got steak. She originally wanted fish n' chips; her favourite food that could never go wrong, but for these past months she'd been avoiding it like a plague). But not soon after and much to her delight and surprise, the conversation became strictly work-related, and he ended up talking a lot about Hakuba rather than the plan of what to buy as a wedding gift. It was fine, either way. As long as it wasn't something that would add on to her plate of troubled thoughts, she was more than glad.

"Anyway, thank you for your suggestions." Daisuke said as they were making their way back to the headquarters, the entrance of the tall and giant building right ahead.

"I should be the one thanking you; for the lunch treat. I didn't help that much." Aoko smiled meekly (Really, all she did was suggest things that she knew would end up on the first page of google search).

"But I like your photo frame set idea—"

/ 'Puff puff' /

"—and I think it'll be a good gift because…"

Aoko stopped in her tracks, leaving Daisuke to walk by himself as he continued chattering about whatever thing that she couldn't hear anymore. His voice had turned into a distant hum, until it was gone and fully replaced by a new sound in her head.

/ 'Puff puff' /

The sound of engine.

It was faint, but she thought she recognized it like the her own heartbeat.

And there was that stupid, familiar feeling Aoko couldn't comprehend again. Her body suddenly reacted on its own as she turned, eyes drifting past the ground until she spotted two figures at the drop-off point outside the HQ building.

One was blonde and standing on the curb, while the other was sitting on a motorbike with a black helmet over his head.

"—And I thought you knew some magic and disappeared." Daisuke jokingly said, jogging a few steps back after he realised he'd been speaking to air. His amused grin faded to a frown when he reached her side. "Is something wrong?" He looked at her in concern.

Her lips remained tightly sealed, eyes still fixated on the pair.

What are the odds?

When Aoko didn't reply (or more like she couldn't), Daisuke followed her line of sight, and within seconds, a smile spread across his cheeks. "Oh, it's Inspector Hakuba." He chimed, his tone filled with a faint sense of pride.

Aoko didn't want to burst Daisuke's bubble, but the person she was looking and focusing on wasn't his favourite boss.

It was the black helmet man.

"Wait— That motorbike guy…!"

She blinked in bewilderment, turning to stare at the side of Daisuke's equally surprised-looking face.

"You know him?" Aoko tried her hardest to keep her voice neutral.

"I've met him once," Daisuke said, his eyes distracted and distant. "It was when Inspector Hakuba asked me to fetch him from an underpass after one of his private investigation. The motorbike guy was there."

Oh. And Aoko was half-thinking if Daisuke had met him somewhere in the headquarters, perhaps being taken in to get some witness statement for the fire explosion. Then again, why and what was she hoping for? Considering the statistics, there were more than tens of thousands of people who owned a black helmet, and the black helmet that the man was wearing now looked a little different from the one she remembered from the fire explosion too…

Her childish desperation to see the real black helmet man was getting a little out of hand. She decided to cast the thoughts to the back of her mind.

For the next few seconds, they continued to stand (quite foolishly) outside the building, mutually watching the exchange in silence interest. The biker suddenly pulled out a file from his jacket and dumped it on Hakuba's hands. And less than a minute of conversation afterwards, he sped off, and Hakuba returned inside the building.

She watched the motorbike turning out to the main road and disappeared down the streets. "He's not from the Police, is he?" Aoko spoke, her tone mixing between sounding like a statement and a question (Their interactions looked rather unprofessional, but she couldn't think of anything besides a working relationship after she saw him handing a file over).

"I'm not that sure. Inspector Hakuba didn't tell me when I asked." Daisuke paused, seeming to be mulling over something. "But I believe he's a good guy."

Aoko pursed her lips, keeping her mouth shut in time before she questioned about his certainty. She had no rights to doubt anyone's capability in differentiating good or bad guys; the man she once believed to be the bad for all her life turned out to be the good one all along.

"Just some months ago, there was a hiccup in Inspector's Hakuba investigation and he got shot in the arm." Daisuke began, as though he could read Aoko's silence thoughts. "And the motorbike guy saved him."

Why… does this sound so familiar?

"Perhaps I've said too much?" Daisuke rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, seeming to sense the oddity of her silence. "Please ignore all of it if you can."

Aoko honestly couldn't. But for the sake of ending the conversation, she only nodded (with no indication of promise) and continued their way back to the office.

.o.

.

A glide to the left.

A glide to the right.

Cool breeze brushed across cheeks.

A spin.

A glide to the left.

Another spin.

'You're so good at this and it's kinda unfair.'

A sudden stop. A turn.

A girl wearing spectacles was standing on the far opposite, hands on hip.

A glance down.

The ground was made of ice.

Blue ice skates.

'I've been practicing.'

.

Kaito recognized the ice rink.

No matter how hard he tried to ignore its existence, having it located two streets away from his house and stupid flyers stuck in his gates almost twice every month weren't exactly helping him in the case.

It wasn't as if he was born with a grudge against ice skating. He did try learning to skate when he was younger, but the only thing he gained besides scars was humiliation every time he left the rink. And just like that, after being conditioned that ice equals pain, he hadn't walked on one for more years than he could remember.

But here he was, standing before the skate-rental counter and grudgingly staring at the board where the rental hours and price were listed (He had given up wondering how his legs decided to end up here when he was intending to buy some chips from the convenience store).

"I'll like to rent a pair of skates." He muttered to the staff, who had been staring at him sceptically for the past ten minutes.

"Okay." The staff said with the same amount of (lacking) enthusiasm before passing the skates to him after knowing the size of his feet.

Bloody hell. Was Kaito's first thought when he took the black and heavy ice skates. He was really insane. Deeply, enormously, crazily insane—

Kaito settled himself on an empty bench and changed out his shoes. Though it had been nearly a decade since he last wore ice skates, he flicked the buckles and tightened the straps with the aspect like he just worn them yesterday. And after knowing he'd put it on the right way, he tentatively stood up and wobbled as he did. His calves were starting to ache, and feeling regretful might be a little bit of an understatement…

Taking in a deep breath, he willed himself to stomp a foot forward, and another, and another as he slowly approached the entrance of the ice rink. Comparably to the past, it wasn't that bad of the start, though he was still unsteady in his steps and almost fell a couple of times.

He was too busy concentrating how to walk than to count the time, but he was sure he took at least five minutes to reach the stupid ice rink. He sighed, his bored eyes staring across the white, shiny ground when he finally reached the ice rink. And even before stepping inside, he could feel his nose twitching on reflex.

Ok. Maybe I might get possessed like what happened when I was cooking tamago and it'll end up fine. He nodded his head in mock encouragement. Yeah. Maybe.

With that thought, he lifted his right leg… and slowly… set it on the… ice—

SHIT!

"Be careful!"

Right before his butt fell onto the cold ground, two warm hands caught hold of his arms and pulled him back onto his feet. His tightened chest relaxed from the thought of knowing he wasn't going to die from a cracked spine and he let out a relief sigh.

"Thanks—" He looked up but stopped, and blinked; the sudden sight of his saviour's blue eyes stolen his ability to breathe again.

The brown-haired woman smiled, her hands still warmly holding his arms. "I'll support you." She carefully snaked her hands down to his wrists, and Kaito thought both of his arms were going to fall off. It wasn't because of her strength; She was treating him as though he made of glass. But for some magical reason, her touch was electrifying his nerves to complete numbness.

And he really couldn't breathe.

His pokerface was obviously malfunctioned, and she instantly noticed his discomfort. Her smile faltered, and she looked down at his hands she was holding.

"I'm so sorry!" She retracted her left hand that was holding onto his right, as if she'd touched the surface of the sun. "I hope I didn't aggravate your injury." She muttered sheepishly, her eyes looking intently at the bandage.

"No, it's fine. Just a scratch." He mumbled (Her watchful gaze was making him a little tense, but the only thing that stopped him from stuffing his hand into his pocket and hiding it from her view was because he needed to hold the railings beside him or he would fall).

But his left arm… the one she was still holding… was…

A faint whistle, out of nowhere, snatched away the silence between them. "Wow. I'm away for two minutes and you've hooked up a guy?"

The brown-haired woman gasped, her face contorted in horror as she glared outside of the ice rink. "Keiko!"

Not able to give a turn, Kaito awkwardly shifted his body to his side, watching another female figure approaching the ice rink with the laces of her white ice skates hanging on her fingers.

It was a woman wearing spectacles.

…

The spectacles girl.

All of the sudden, something inside Kaito clicked.

In all of his life, he never once thought he had enough time; He needed more hours of sleep, more hours to practice his magic, more hours for everything. But now, for the very first time, he found time had stood still.

His eyes shifted from the spectacles woman and to the side of the brown-haired woman's face. Everything about the latter's features were enlarged and moving in slow motion. Thin brows merging. Long lashes fluttering slowly. A shade of pink spreading across her nose. High cheekbones twitching as when her red lips were doing so.

(He thought he'd seen them before)

Slowly, he lowered his eyes to the ground; the ground that was made of ice.

Blue ice skates.

'I've been practicing.'

'I've been practicing.'

'I've been practicing–'

"–llo? Hello?"

Kaito inhaled, the sound of his own breath snapped him out of his trance. The voices were still echoing in his head, but it had blurred enough to only make his ears slightly tingle. His eyes slowly travelled back up from her blue skates and to her legs, arms and—

Her slender fingers around his left wrist

He finally dared himself to look into her eyes.

When their gaze met, she spoke again. "Are you alright?" Her features strained with worry (which he thought he didn't deserve).

"Yeah." Kaito muttered and gently pushed her grip away to hold onto the railing for full support. He could sense her curious gaze on him, but he averted it completely and hobbled away. "I'm going out." He informed, as if his words would speak louder than his actions.

"Okay." She took a step back and made way for him, which he was beyond grateful for. Once he was out of the rink and stepping onto the unbreakable ground, he immediately unbuckled his skates. The spectacles woman, too, was blatantly staring at the back of his head, but likewise, he blatantly couldn't give a damn.

He just needed to get out of here.

Kaito dumped the skates and cash on the counter and left, not caring when the staff was calling after him to wait for his change. In fact, he walked even faster, until he couldn't hear anyone calling for him anymore.

Once he reached the main streets, he began sprinting all the way back home.

Unlike what most passers-by he knocked into would think, Kaito wasn't running away from anything (At least that was what he believed). He was going to find the truth from what he left under his bed.

Despite all these years, he still kept the hardcopy files on the people and jewels he'd researched in his storage room, just because he thought it might be useful in the future (which it definitely was). And ironically, and thankfully, his laziness saved him the effort to spent time searching for it since he had left the box under his bed after the day Hakuba requested to borrow one of his files.

He tripped when he kicked his shoes off by the door and tripped again when he dashed up the stairs. And the first thing he did once he reached his room was to pull out the box of files out and plop it heavily onto his desk.

Gritting teeth and clicking tongue, he ransacked files after files, his eyes frantically searching for the one he wanted. His injured palm was filled with pin and needles, warning him to slow his efforts down, but the pain wasn't all for nothing; He finally found what he wanted, and all the haste within him left, leaving only wariness. He tentatively pulled out the file, his fingers feeling the rough edges of the cover he hadn't touch for years.

He gulped.

And opened the file.

Nakamori Ginzo. Inspector and Leader of Kaitou Kid Task Force. Widowed. One daughter.

He flipped a page.

Daughter: Nakamori Aoko.

A photo was clipped at the edge of the paper.

Nakamori Aoko's portrait photograph.

/ "This is all because of you." /

The tightening grip on the file cause his knuckles to turned white. Kaito sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, in attempts to clear his mind blank before taking a second and good look at the photo without any flashback or voices interrupting his focus.

It was her.

The voice. Her voice; Why hadn't I realized?

She had grown a whole lot mature than what was captured in the photograph more than three years ago; Her face now was sharper and serious, and the shape of her mouth was slightly different, as though the lack of smiles for the past three years had eased the curves of her lips… As a pro in disguises, Kaito had endless differences to pinpoint about, but despite all of it, there was one thing that tied back to the familiarity even after three years passed; It was the spark, the thing that made the blue in her eyes glint like no one else—

He found her.

He found the owner of all these dreams.

And these dreams… are really… memories…?

But why?

And how?

What madness was this?

If I can see her memories, Kaito bit his lips so hard till he could taste blood. Does that mean she can see… mine… too…?

His thoughts stopped there. He was too afraid to think any further.

Slowly, Kaito set the file back on the table and released a breathe he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He continued staring at the photo, allowing the time he once thought he lacked to pass him by.

Soon enough, the final rays of the sun had disappeared from his window and night fell. He still made no sense to move the entire time, until the moment when he realized the colours on the photograph were growing grey under his dark shadow. And for a second when he blinked, he thought Nakamori Aoko's lips turned poisonous-purple, and the blue hues of her smiling eyes went blank and dead.

Kaito fumbled and sprinted to the switch by his door. With a click, his room turned bright again. The millisecond-blindness caused him to accidentally knocked the corner of his chair when he returned to his desk, but he ignored the stinging throb of pain and desperately focused on the file again.

Good. Her smiling face was still there. Her blue eyes were still shining in the photograph. Not blank. Not dead.

He allowed the guilt to wash over him for a few more minutes before closing the file, deciding that this was the longest he could withstand the pressure in his heavy chest.

.o.

It originally wasn't Aoko's job.

Considering being one of the victims, she was excused from the fire explosion case that the Kudo Special Task Force was requested to investigate by the higher ups. But the workload was intense and having an insane amount of casualties and witnesses to work with required a lot of manpower that Shinichi was currently lacking. Of course Aoko snatched up the chance to participate when he requested for her assistant. Even if she had secretly looked at the files and found no clue to who the black helmet man was, she still wanted to be part of the investigation for the sake of justice.

"I can't recall… I don't remember a thing." Hiroji, one of the male casualties Aoko was interviewing, shook his head to her questions. He looked uncomfortable, not that she could blame him when he suffered a broken kneecap and a bandage around his concussed head.

"It's okay. Take your time. You were with your daughter, right?"

"Yeah. All I wanted was to bring Fumiko out and have lunch." Hiroji frowned and stared at his daughter next to his hospital bed, who was fiddling with a bear soft toy in her hand. "And if anything happens to her…" He continued mindlessly.

"I'm fine, don't worry." Fumiko said. "I'm a strong girl!"

Hiroji managed a smile, and Aoko did as well; it was nearly impossible to stop the tug on her lips. "And you're a good girl too." Aoko added. "Staying here to accompany your dad until he's discharged?"

"Yeah!"

Aoko slowly waked over and squatted next to Fumiko. "Seeing you so strong and brave, do you happen to remember anything strange from the fire incident? Anything at all."

Fumiko shook her head, her eyes suddenly downcast. "No. I only remembered I couldn't find my dad. And I lost my teddy too."

"I see. But you found it in the end, didn't you?" Aoko pointed at the bear in Fumiko's hand and grinned, but her smile didn't stay for long. Now that she noticed, the bear looked way too new and clean to be something you picked out from the rubbles.

"Nope." Fumiko instantly answered her doubts. "Onii-san gave it to me because he promised me."

Aoko looked at Hiroji for confirmation. Instead, he sighed.

"I was asleep and this little one slipped out to play. When she came back, she's stuck to that bear like glue even though I wanted her to throw it away." Hiroji shook his head. "Simply accepting a gift from a stranger…"

"He's not a stranger!" Fumiko whined.

Aoko quickly interrupted before Hiroji could say anything. "Who is that onii-san and what exactly did he promise you?" She asked softly, easing Fumiko's mood back to normal.

"He told me he would help me find my bear during that fire. But he couldn't, so he gave a new one to me, as a promise."

"How does that onii-san know where to find you?"

Fumiko blinked in surprise, her happiness and innocence surely didn't make her think that far. "I don't know." She said hesitantly.

"It's okay, don't worry." Aoko said, fishing out her phone from her pocket and showed Fumiko the screen as she swiped through all the men's profile picture from her photo album. "Is he one of the people in the pictures I'd showed you?"

Her furrowed brows were already enough for Aoko to know before she even shook her head.

So it wasn't one of the casualties or witnesses. "Where and when did he give the bear to you?"

She pointed out of the window. "At the playground two days ago!"

Aoko bit her lips. And that would mean no security cameras. "How does he look like?"

"He is tall and… has blue eyes!" Fumiko blurted.

It wasn't very informative, but Aoko couldn't expect anything more descriptive from a child anyway. She tried to not let the disappointment show before pointing at the soft toy. "May I borrow your teddy bear for a while?"

Fumiko looked dubious, but she handed it to Aoko in the end. Aoko began pressing the soft fur, feeling the wool inside the toy and proceeded to rubbed her thumb over the beady eyes. Nothing that seemed suspicious; It was simply a bear soft toy. She handed the bear back to Fumiko.

"It should be fine." Aoko assured Hiroji, though he still seemed uncertain about the gift. She turned back and ruffled Fumiko's hair. "And thank you for being so cooperative and a great help. Here's a little treat for you."

And as though Aoko had done it a million times, she flicked Fumiko's ears and whipped out a lollipop in between her fingers before showing it to Fumiko's face.

It was only after Aoko finished the trick then she realized what she had done.

W…What the hell—?!

The lollipop almost slipped out from Aoko's fingers if Fumiko didn't take it in time. "Wow!" She gasped in awe and glanced up to Aoko excitedly. "Are you a magician?"

Aoko was too dumbfounded by her new-found talent to say a single word.

Fumiko, oblivious to Aoko's turmoil, held her bear high up in the air and continued. "Onii-san is a magician too!"

"… He is?" Aoko blinked, finally able to regain some bits of her composure.

"He made my teddy bear appear by clapping his hands! He's really amazing." Fumiko continued proudly.

Aoko wished she had something to say, but she couldn't think of any. She only stared at her own hand in silence, allowing Hiroji's protective-father-nagging to fill the silence for a short while before she interrupted him with a few more simple questions. After she was done, she wished them well and took her leave.

Besides claiming the fire scene was intense and chaotic, all the victims she'd interviewed today gave her no important clues. Well, maybe except for the mysterious man that Fumiko mentioned. Aoko would have to remember to take that identity of the onii-san down when she returned to the headquarters: Tall, blue eyes, and either a magician or some kidnapper that learnt petty tricks to fool kids. But even so, she hoped it wasn't relevant to this case and it was all just an innocent promise and nothing else (Because truthfully, she wanted Fumiko to keep the teddy bear).

As she made her way towards the lift, her thoughts unknowingly drifted from the case and to her hand; the hand that waved the lollipop out of thin air.

How did I…?

Aoko sighed and shook her head, forcing herself from thinking any further. She still had another casualty on the third floor to care about rather than this additional set of weird behaviour (She should be used to it now, actually). She looked down at her phone screen. If there was still time before her general meeting, maybe she could drop by to visit the mother that she helped during the incident.

Deciding the plan in her head, Aoko made a turn at the end of the corridor, just in time to see a passenger lift door open and the sleeve of a man's hand pressing the floor buttons. The hospital lifts always took an eternity to wait for another, and not wanting to test her level of patience today, Aoko embraced the chance and ran with the speed of light. She slipped inside successfully right before the door closed on her, but her stunts almost caused her to crash into the man in the lift.

"I'm so sor— Inspector Hakuba?" She exclaimed, flustered once she realised who the man was.

His amber eyes twinkled in response. "Nakamori-san." He acknowledged her as a form of greeting. "What a coincidence. I hope you're here for work and not because of anything else. The first floor?"

"Third floor, thank you." She straightened and smiled when Hakuba helped her to pressed the button. "And yeah, it's for work." Aoko patted her notepad before her eyes glanced down to the files in his hands, understanding that he was the same. But her breath hitched when she realised something more to the files he was holding; One of it looked like what the biker passed to him the other day.

The lift fell into silence, only the occasional faint pings! that sounded whenever it descended from one floor to the next. And as the numbers continued to decrease, it unconsciously fuelled the courage that Aoko didn't know she would have in the first place. She cleared her throat in a manner of an attempt-confidence and spoke.

"Inspector Hakuba. May I ask you a question?"

He glanced at her. "Sure," and added his signature smile.

Though the similarity of the file was too intriguing to ignore, she knew coincidence couldn't be count as evidence in court, and what Aoko cared wasn't the content of the file anyway. She had too much on hand to be involved in politics, affairs and whatnots. What she was more interested in was:

"Who is the biker?"

"Biker?" Hakuba quirked an eyebrow.

"I saw him came to the HQ a few days ago and gave you something."

Hakuba blinked, eyes lit with some kind of enlightenment before waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, that. It was just a delivery man—"

"Daisuke told me about him." Aoko said before mentally shooting herself in the head for letting Daisuke's name slip out of her tongue. But what was done was done. She took in a deep breath and continued, as though she wasn't aware of her mistake. "He told me the biker was involved in your private investigation before; the one when you got a gunshot wound in the arm."

He let out a breath that resembled a laugh. "I didn't know the two of you still remain in contact even after we closed the BO case."

Aoko knew what Hakuba was trying to do. She remained mute, not participating in his attempt to change the conversation and waited for his answer.

It seemed he knew what she was trying to do, too. "May I ask you back a question?" He paused, as if he was giving Aoko the chance to reject him. But she didn't, so he continued. "Why are you interested in him?"

"Because he's not part of us, is he?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

She cleared her throat, making sure her tone remained as firm as the first time she said it. "He's not part of us. But he's not an enemy either."

When she watched the way Hakuba's brow slowly merge together, panic kicked her straight in the gut. "Sorry," Aoko bit her lips. "I must be confusing you."

"I've heard more confusing things." His charismatic smile was back. "Besides, I understand what you mean."

"You do?"

"Yes." He said slowly. "And what you said is right; He's not part of us, but he's not an enemy either."

The way Hakuba articulated the word enemy was similar to how she remembered Shinichi spoke to her back then. She wondered what were the chances that the man who saved her from falling to her death that night had any relation to the biker that worked with Hakuba. Calculating her math, the answer seemed near to a zero.

Near. But not there yet.

"After hearing what Daisuke had said, you must be thinking about the man who saved you during the last BO case, isn't it?"

Her head jerked up, feeling her cheeks turning warm at the bizarre thought of Hakuba being able to read her mind. When she realised he was genuinely asking it as a form of a question, she let out an inward sigh.

"Are we not trustable enough?" She mumbled, not exactly answering him but enough to imply the case.

"It's not about trust. But there are times when particular skillsets are needed for particular situations."

Like Kaitou Kid. The name magically popped into Aoko's mind.

Thinking about what Hakuba said, it all made sense. Her father's squad had no idea how to detonate bombs, but Kid knew. Her father's squad couldn't save the hostages by themselves, but Kid could, though with the price of his life—

"Nakamori-san?"

She blinked and glanced up quickly, hoping he wasn't asking a question because she had no idea what he had said other than her name. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if I offended you." He searched her eyes, trying to see if they contained the hurt he thought he had inflicted on her.

"No. You're right." Aoko quickly cut in, her features impassive and fine. "What you said is true. I should be the one saying sorry; for asking such questions."

He shook his head politely. "It's fine."

The lift door opened on the cue, saving Aoko from having to think about what else to say. It was her floor, and she bowed in a form of a respectable goodbye to Hakuba before stepping out. But when a sudden realisation struck her, she quickly stopped and turned before the lift door closed.

"Oh, and I wish you a blissful marriage!" She chimed.

"Thank you." Hakuba said, his smiling face disappeared behind the metal doors and the lift continued to descend again.

.o.

The wedding was glamorous, much to Kaito's surprise.

What he was most amazed about was the brightness of it. With Akako's tastes and family roots, he was expecting neon green lights, fake spider webs or black laces all around. But no. Everything was mostly white and enchanting, including the bride and groom themselves (even if Kaito hated to admit). Akako's gown was sparkling (which Kaito wasn't sure if it had to do with some magic charms), and Hakuba's suit was as clean as snow; They both looked like characters extracted out from fairytales books.

Like most people said, weddings were usually a good chance for school-gatherings that never once happened too. Almost everone from their high-school class was invited and came. Even their homeroom teacher too. And among the bunch of high-ranking officials, lawyers and detectives guests, their group was expectedly the loudest and rowdiest. And it wasn't Kaito's doing, not exactly at least.

"Do you guys remember that fart bomb prank Kuroba pulled on our math teacher?"

"Oh yes!"

"Good times, good times."

Once in a while when everyone was having their own private conversations, someone in the crowd would randomly bring up an old memory from their high-school, and most of it consisted of Kaito's pranks, which was technically one of the few things that could make their studious days much less boring that it was. Naturally, everyone would burst into synchronise laughter at their own version of memory playing in their head, though all Kaito could remember was getting a month of mopping duties after all his pranks.

(Perhaps he had been spending too much time trying to differentiate Nakamori Aoko's memories from his normal dreams for the past week that he'd almost forgotten what his own memories were)

"Your hair looked the same as ever." Souji, Kaito's old table partner, teasingly give a punch on his shoulder as a greeting and laughed. "Didn't get a girlfriend to fix that mess?"

Kaito waved a hand and rolled his eyes. "Who got time for that?"

"I guess I'm not the only one then—" Souji suddenly widened his eyes, his amused grin turned into a worried gasp. "What happened to your hand?"

"Oh. It's a scratch" Kaito stared down at his bandage. He ought to find something else to change so it wouldn't be as eye-catching as it was now.

"Practicing your magic, I bet."

Just by thinking of the sharp glass piercing in his skin made the hair on his arm stand. "…Yeah."

"You should do one now." Souji prompted excitedly.

"Nah." Kaito shook his head and gestured at his injured hand. "Got a burden here."

Actually, Kaito would love to perform his magic for old times' sake. But a day before the wedding ceremony, Akako specially took the time off her busy schedule to visit Kaito and warn him not to pull any tricks on her big day personally. And judging from her business-like tone, Kaito didn't dare to joke about it, much less going against her wishes; He was sure his bathroom door wouldn't be the only thing that would disappear.

"Bummer," Souji sighed, before knocking his arm against Kaito's playfully. "But if you hold a magic show in the future, don't forget to invite me!"

"Front row with the best view of my assistants wearing bunny costume, how about that?"

The way Souji's eyes lit up almost made Kaito laugh. "Deal."

Their conversations then drifted from past memories to updates on their jobs. It was fine. Kaito wasn't up for small talks, but deep talks wasn't what he was keen in either. He would rather talk about jokes than things that mattered (Because almost all the things that mattered to him were gone now).

In the midst of a conversation about some baseball match held last month (after a few other classmates joined in to talk with Kaito and Souji too), Kaito carefully and quietly slipped himself out. His throat wasn't used to the amount of talking today, and he needed a drink. But before Kaito could get one, a voice called out from behind him.

"I'm surprised you came."

Kaito snorted, recognising the snarky tone even before he turned. From the other side of the wedding reception, Hakuba, in his dazzling suit, was marching towards Kaito with a poise like Prince Charming.

"And I wonder why I came." Kaito drawled. It was kind of a mixed feeling, between wanting to stay at home and make up for the lack of sleep, being afraid of Akako's vengeance for not turning up, and wanting to see Hakuba cry during his wedding toast (Though it didn't exactly happen, his teary eyes were close enough).

"Nonetheless I'm grateful." Hakuba said.

The genuineness in Hakuba's tone made Kaito slightly awkward. He forced himself to look neutral. "Where's Akako?"

"She's with her aunts."

"Be sure to tell her I came."

Hakuba scoffed, but his face fell lax and turned solemn the next second. "So, how's your dreams and weird behaviours?"

"They stopped." Kaito lied without a dab of guilt. He didn't want to talk about it—

"Really?" Hakuba narrowed his eyes, trying to read every inch of Kaito's face.

"Yeah. It just stopped. No more weird stuff."

"For some reason, why don't I believe you?"

"I can't help you if you don't." Kaito gave a careless shrug. "In fact, those dreams and behaviours mean nothing. It should never have mattered anyway."

Really, it shouldn't have.

(But it did. A lot)

Kaito knew better than to think his words would easily convince Hakuba, but he was oddly still and silent, only his eyes moving to study Kaito. And after three long seconds, Hakuba simply nodded (much to Kaito's greatest inward surprise), and turned to face the crowd before them.

"By the way, Kudo is here."

Kaito was still trying to register the shock that Hakuba had decided to drop the dream topic, though it wasn't as if the new conversation was something nice to start either.

"Is it?" Kaito drawled in fake surprise and glanced at the crowd wearily (As if he didn't know when that man was the first person he saw when he arrived, much to his displeasure). He spotted Shinichi in his well-tailored black suit within two seconds, standing just a few groups away and talking with a man that Kaito didn't bother to know.

"Do you know Nakamori-san saw you?" Hakuba continued casually.

The mention of the name made Kaito's heart stop dead. He robotically turned his head and stared at the side of Hakuba's impassive face. He prayed it was only coincidence that Hakuba spoke of her name and not because he knew about the things Kaito didn't wish to talk about.

"Who?" He asked, forcing his tone to sound as plain as possible. Of course he knew who the name belonged to, but he wanted to confirm it.

Hakuba flicked a gaze to him, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Nakamori Aoko."

Kaito took a deep breath and pushed both of his hands deeper inside his pocket, just like how he always pushed his recurring flashbacks to the back of his mind. "When did she see me?" He said, his tone levelled from the years of training.

Please not in her dreams. Not in her dreams.

"The day you brought the documents I asked for. And no, she didn't recognise you." Hakuba paused, as though giving Kaito some time for his words to sink in. "She only questioned about your existence."

Kaito relaxed at the answer, even if it wasn't the best one he hoped for. He managed a swallow. "But how do you know she saw me and you?"

"She told me," Hakuba said before stopping to give Kaito a curious look. "You do know she's working for Kudo, right? You saved her during the last operation against BO after all."

Kaito widened his eyes.

/ "I won't thank you for anything." /

He felt his head pulsating to a growing headache. "What?" He almost exclaimed.

"You didn't know?" Now it was Hakuba's turn to be confused.

"I didn't know that's her." Keeping his bandaged hand in his pocket, he took out the other to massage his temple, still trying to link the words and memories in his brain. "I didn't see her face; the forest was too dark. The only thing I checked was her pulse before I left." He muttered with a grit of his teeth.

"Not just that. Don't you have that psychopathic habit of checking everyone's identity before starting an operation?"

"…I've stopped caring."

"Caring?" Hakuba sounded like he wanted to laugh. "That doesn't sound like something you'll ever do, much less stopping yourself from doing."

"For you, yes, you're right." Kaito sneered.

Before he 'died' more than three years ago, he was always up-to-date about the people working in the Kaitou Kid Task Force. He knew their age, where they lived and even the name of their dogs. He knew everything about them like the back of his hand, and as time passed and interactions grew, the entire Task Force felt like his second family (After all he often disguised as one of them. And twice, out of boredom, he joined their celebratory-party after he returned the jewel).

So when the relatives of the Task Force members were kidnapped as hostages because of him, he felt a part of him was stolen away too.

It was a nightmare. And he could never live it down.

Kaito quashed the distant look that threatened to steal his features. He didn't need to look nostalgic, not now, at least. "Why… did she become a police officer? To follow her father's footsteps?" He muttered.

Hakuba was uncharacteristically silent for a short while. "I supposed only she will have the real answer to your question."

/ "This is all because of you." /

Kaito lowered his gaze.

"Saguru."

They turned behind, watching Hakuba's father walking towards them in his pressed, expensive suit. The older man gave Kaito a polite nod before signalling Hakuba to the other side of the ceremony.

"I got to go." Hakuba patted a hand over Kaito's shoulder and gave a squeeze. "I'll talk to you later."

Kaito wasn't going to give him a chance for that. After he watched Hakuba's approaching the group of high-ranking officers, he gave a last glance towards Shinichi's direction before slipping back into the crowd.

The high-school clique was still standing at the same corner, drinking their drinks and laughing at some old joke from the past. Kaito had lost all mood for either, and he found himself standing in the crowd and not knowing where to head next. It didn't take him long before he finally decided what his next course of action was; which was to get away.

Fumbling with his motorbike keys, he snaked his way to the parking lot.

He tugged onto his tie, allowing it loose before starting his motorbike. With the bustling and lively atmosphere, no one cared enough to give him a second glance even when his engine roared to life. After putting on his helmet, he sped off, leaving the secluded, private wedding behind him.

Kaito always went for rides during his free time. He would ride by the pier if he wanted to cool his head. If he wanted the thrill and adrenaline to boost his energy, he would drive on highways. But this was the first time he drove with no idea on where to go.

Though plagued with a senseless direction, Kaito soon found himself in some part of a town, and he recognized a few of the signboards as Kid when he was flying in the sky years ago. He continued riding down streets and passing by shops and food stores, feeling like an empty shell being possessed by a mind that didn't belong to him. But before he knew it, he randomly stopped his motorbike beside an unsheltered flower stall. No, it wasn't because of a traffic light or to wait for cats to cross. He parked it there because he wanted something, and his hands were twitching for his wallet.

"Hello." The florist gave him a once-over at his attire (excluding his helmet). "Roses for a date?" She suggested, probably a guess from her years of experiences.

Kaito paused before shaking his head. He eyed over the limited choices. "Do you sell lavenders?"

"We do." The florist smiled. "A bouquet?"

"Yeah."

Somehow after the purchase, Kaito felt a little different, yet ironically familiar with this feeling. It was the same when he made tamagoyaki on his own for the first time; he didn't know what he was doing, but he knew what to do. He kept the bouquet inside one of his suit's secret pockets and started the engine, twisting his handlebars towards directions of unknown (even if he subconsciously knew where to go).

In mere minutes, the town he recognized had passed him like a blur and he was now on a highway. There were lesser and lesser buildings as Kaito continued his ride, and all he could see were field of grass and scattered lampposts around (He wasn't sure if his instincts already knew, but he was grateful that he kept the bouquet inside his suit or the wind would have ruined the petals and damaged it all).

After some time of driving pass nothing but grass fields, his fingers suddenly reacted on its own and reached out for his brakes after he made a specific turn. He finally slowed to a stop before a large, old gate.

It was a cemetery.

Now that he knew all those random spikes of inclination were related to the emotions of Nakamori Aoko, coming to this cemetery could only mean one thing, and that would also explain his desire to buy flowers.

Kaito parked his motorbike under a tree and left his helmet on his seat. Feeling the flowers inside his suit and making sure it was intact, he made his way through the unlocked gate, not just on the basis of those spiked feelings, but because he himself wanted too.

As he began to wander through the cemetary, his eyes travelled past the carved names, but out of respect, he tried to keep his head low most of the time, silently praying as he walked past the spots that wasn't his stop; His legs knew the lead, even if he had absolutely no idea.

And then he reached.

He knew it even before his legs stopped on its own; The sense of familiarity kicked in again, and he felt like he'd been here a thousand times before. The gravestone in front of him was spot-less and shiny, as if it'd been cleaned recently. There wasn't any offerings or flowers, not that Kaito would know if it had been cleared away by the caretakers, but there was something left on the grave; a photograph in a hand-sized frame leaning against the polished base.

It was a picture of a smiling woman; the dark brown-haired woman who taught how to make tamagoyaki.

Though Kaito already knew (the carved name on the stone was more than enough clue), the realisation still came and bit him in his ass.

"Your daughter looks like you." He said, and he wished the smile on his lips looked real enough if she happened to see it from somewhere, somehow.

Silence fell again and a strong breeze blew by, causing the trees surrounding the cemetery to momentarily sway. The photograph moved slightly, as though invisible hands touched them, but it was the wind. It could only be the wind.

After twenty minutes, Kaito left, leaving no evidence of his presence except for the small bouquet of lavenders behind.

.o.

.

A hospital bed.

A woman was sleeping on the bed.

Machines were surrounding the bed.

Two small feet shuffled to the stool beside the bed.

A plop.

The seat was cold.

Two little hands reached out to touch the woman's arm.

The arm was cold.

A hiccup.

The woman slowly peeled open her eyes.

'My sweetheart.' The woman's head lifted up from the pillow. 'Why are you still here?'

Silence.

Machines continued to beep.

'Where's your dad?'

A shake of head.

Throat turned sour.

'Are you gonna b' okay?'

Vision blurred.

A hiccup.

'Yeah.' The woman weakly smiled. 'Everything is going to be okay.'

Vision cleared.

Cheeks felt wet.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

.

Kaito didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

.o.

"No?"

"No."

"No as in…?"

"No as in no, I'm not going to go on a dinner date with your cousin. I barely know him!" Aoko gritted her teeth and returned to focus on chopping her peeled carrots. The last thing she ever expected to do along with cutting carrots was to talk about stupid match-making plans.

"You got to start from somewhere!" Keiko waved her hand in the air desperately before slamming it onto the kitchen counter. "You need a distraction."

"I have enough distractions."

"In case you are that oblivious, the thing that I'm trying to distract you from is exactly your work." Keiko rolled her eyes. "You need to learn how to pamper and love yourself instead of running around avoiding bullets and knifes."

"You've watched too much action and thriller movies. We have paper works to do." Aoko sighed and swiped the sliced carrots into a bowl. She began cutting a peeled potato. "And besides I did relax, didn't I? We went ice-skating that day despite my busy schedule—"

"So it's about that guy."

"What guy?"

"That guy we met at the ice rink."

Aoko groaned, regretted mentioning about the ice skating. "How do you even link those two together? And I thought we're done with that conversation."

"We are never done with any conversations." Keiko leaned against the counter, her eyes glinting from the brim of her spectacles.

"Keiko–"

"It's love at first sight, right?"

Aoko stared at Keiko in disdain. "No."

"Soulmates?

"There's no such things as soulmates."

"And yet you believe in fairies and horoscopes." Keiko snorted. "At least you got to admit he's cute."

Aoko gaped, too dumbfounded to speak.

"I knew it." Keiko giggled behind a hand, looking utterly pleased. "I knew you think he's cute."

"I don't." Aoko spat and continued to chop the potatoes furiously, hoping her unintentional two-seconds pause could be neglected as her dedicated focus on her kitchen work.

Sure… Aoko hadn't seen a man with such nice jaws and sapphire-coloured eyes before, but the reason why she was looking at him so intently wasn't because of the you're-love-struck crap that Keiko teased her about after the man left. She just thought he felt… familiar. Like she knew him from somewhere before (But all the men Aoko ever interacted were either her colleagues or murderers that were rotting in jail, so that reduced the list by at least ninety-percent. For that ten-percent, she still couldn't derive an answer out of it).

Keiko scoffed and twitched her nose. "Though he got the looks, he acted as if a pole was stuck inside his ass; He could be a little more grateful towards you."

"It's not his fault anyway. I helped him when he probably didn't want it."

"But still—"

"In my line of work, I've seen worse." Aoko said, and poured the diced potato cubes into a bowl. She began on the onions. "And besides, we won't see each other again."

"I hope not if he's an asshole." Keiko nodded her head, though Aoko knew there was something more to the sly smile that started to spread across Keiko's lips. "But I hope you do if that means you'll get a boyfriend."

"Enough of romanticising my life."

"Why not? Your life thoroughly lacks it." Keiko rolled her eyes. "The only men I've ever heard you talking about are your dad, your boss and Kaitou Kid."

Aoko almost wanted to applaud herself for not flinching at Keiko's last mention. "What point are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. I'm stating a fact."

It wasn't true, not at all. Aoko thought about other men too, though not romantically like what Keiko wished or as much as the people Keiko mentioned. She thought about the biker and the man who saved her from her death fall... as well as the man in her recent dreams; dreams she couldn't comprehend besides the one where she dreamt in Kaitou Kid's point of view (She once dreamt of taking care of a wounded dove and putting a fart bomb on a teacher's chair. And the strange thing was… she recognized the hand belonged to the same man. At least that was what she deduced from the tiny, identical-looking scar on his left thumb).

/ 'Dad! Don't go!' /

And the little boy, too.

"I'm happy with my life." Aoko said firmly, finally mustering the will to speak the words she hoped sounded like truth.

"Aoko—" Keiko began before she abruptly stopped. She gingerly grasped Aoko's elbow and frowned. "Are you crying?"

"I'm not crying." Aoko sniffed. "Ok, I mean I am, but it's because of the onions."

It must be it.

"Alright, that's it. I don't want to see you crying on your big day, be it if it's because of onions. I've already told you not to cook anyway." Keiko pulled Aoko's onion-scented hands away before she accidentally rubbed her eyes, creating more damage. "Drop everything. It's fine if you rejected my cousin's offer to bring you out for dinner, but you can't reject mine."

Aoko stared at her chopped ingredients. Well, she had yet to take out the meat, but… "I want to eat hamburger-steak."

"We'll go eat the best hamburger steak then." Keiko began tugging Aoko's apron out, and before Aoko knew it, she was being pushed out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. "Go have a nice bath and I'll choose your clothes."

"But—"

"Enough buts. It's your birthday, can't you have a rest?" Keiko said, the hardness in her features told Aoko that this was an argument she wasn't going to win.

"Fine." Aoko sighed out, though a grateful smile its way to her lips.

For the next fifteen minutes under the steamy water, Aoko pretended the world didn't exist. She inhaled the scent of the lavender soap on her skin, and imagined herself standing in the field of the purple flower. She always liked flowers when she was young, and recently, she found herself tuning her liking towards roses, but lavender was still and always her favourite.

It always reminded her of her mother.

Aoko stopped the water, and almost instantly, the reality she thought she'd forgotten came crashing back down. With a sigh, she left the shower with a towel around her chest and stopped before the basin. The condensation had fogged up the entire mirror, and she palmed it away just enough to see her own reflection. Compared to that time she'd seen herself at the hospital's restroom, she looked way better now.

She plugged her hair dryer and switched it on, the loud sound of humming hot air filled the bathroom. Her eyes began to wander as she let the hair dryer do its magic to her hair, and her gaze returned to mirror and onto the bruise on her shoulder. The bruise was almost gone, leaving only a light brown mark that had paled to a close colour of her skin.

That night from many months ago had become a blur, and there were times when she thought back and wondered where on earth did she get the nerves to even climb on the ledge in the first place. And not just her, some of her colleagues were curious about her predicament and how she escaped without breaking at least fifty of her bones when she was found in the forest. But an agreement had been established between her and Shinichi to never bring up that night or, more specifically, that mystery man that saved her, so all Aoko could do was to lie and faked a story, like what the Task Force and the higher-ups did three years ago to cover up that Kid died because of the hostages; The media and public were told he retired.

She realised the people who saved her never had much of a luck to receive her gratitude. One died and never got credited. The other wasn't allowed to be spoken off and didn't even have a name (to her).

"Aoko?" Keiko suddenly called out, giving a knock on the bathroom door. "Are you almost done?"

"Y-Yeah." Aoko answered back with a shout and flipped the switch for her hair dryer off. She stole a quick glance at the mirror and steel her features, trying to look as though she hadn't been thinking about all the things she did for the past minutes. She had enough to give Keiko to worry about already.

Tightening the towel around her chest, she opened the door, to be surprised by a suspiciously-very-happy-looking Keiko standing before her.

"What—?"

"Since when did you buy this?" Keiko lifted her hands to show a floral sundress, which Aoko had worn the last time during the fire incident (It was a miracle the clothes was still in one piece).

"Quite some time ago. Never had a chance to wear it after I did it once."

"Now is your chance to wear them!" Keiko chimed. "It'll go well with the white flats I saw in your shoes cabinet."

Bless Keiko and her sense of fashion. "Okay." Aoko smiled.

"And I'll do some make up for you too." Keiko declared and grabbed Aoko by the arm to drag her into her room.

"Wait, what?" Aoko blinked. "There's no need for such hassle."

"Oh yes, there is." Keiko gave a stern look. "It comes in a package for your nice birthday treat."

"And what did I do to deserve so much?"

"No, I think you deserve better." Keiko shook her head, her eyes flickering with some kind of seriousness that Aoko couldn't understand. "You deserve so much better than this."

.o.

.

A gloved hand.

Gloved hand opened to reveal a bright and blue jewel.

The metal plate below the empty glass display-case carved the words: Blue Birthday.

Gloved hand stuffed the jewel into the suit's front pocket.

Broke into a run.

Up the stairs and to the roof.

Climbed up to the ledge.

The wind was harsh. White cape flapping madly.

A knock on the shoulder pad.

Cape snapped into large, solid wings.

Ready, set—

Bang.

Wings broke.

Part of the glider fell down the building, a loud clang on the pavement.

A turn.

A group of men wearing trench coat were standing on the roof.

A moustache man in the middle was holding onto a shiny, 44. magnum revolver.

'I already warned you not to touch that jewel.'

Gritted teeth.

The moustache man smirked.

'It's been quite a long time, Kaitou Kid.'

Silence.

Howling wind.

Heartbeat fast–

'Or... Should I call you Kuroba Toichi?'

.

"289."

That was the first thing Aoko said when she flung open her eyes.

She pressed her palms deep into her sheets to push herself off the bed, her damp neck feeling intensely cold after being exposed by air. She took some time to comb her messily sprawled hair to one side, her eyes still glazed and distant from the dream's aftermath.

"289." She repeated again, the words rolling off her tongue and giving a strange taste.

And then she widened her eyes when she realised what the numbers meant.

#289: Kuroba Toichi

Aoko spared her alarm clock a quick glance before frowning down at her hand to resume her thoughts.

It was half past one in the morning, and there was no way she could sleep after this; Her brain hammered with questions about the dream she couldn't understand. Aoko pinched the bridge of her nose. Is this really a dream... or... something else?

Did she really tap into someone's soul like what she randomly guessed back then? Was she in someone's memory? A memory..? Her dreams were getting more and more realistic that it was scaring her more than intriguing her.

If the dream was somehow real and if Kaitou Kid's true identity was Kuroba Toichi, there were actually more questions than answers now. Why was the file in the cold-case storage room? Shinichi couldn't have been so careless. He should know better than to leave any files related to the Black Organization around for anyone to pick it out and read, having obviously known that Kaitou Kid died at their hands and it wasn't allowed to be known by anyone else.

But she couldn't say for sure now because stupidly, she was just one file away from reading it. And she had no idea who Kuroba Toichi really was.

Aoko needed the answer.

After getting herself hastily clothed in a shirt and jeans, Aoko ran out to the main street to flag for a cab. And it seemed luck was on her side, somehow. One came in less than five minutes of wait, and she instructed the driver to bring her to the Police headquarters the instant she entered the car.

Her brain was on the verge of exploding during the entire ride.

Once they reached, she paid the driver in excess and didn't wait for her change as she bounced out of the cab and jogged into the headquarters, the cold air-conditioned air felt like a slap in the face after the heat from outside.

"Nakamori-san?" The security guard stood up from behind the reception desk and eyed Aoko curiously as she entered the eerily-quiet lobby. "Why are you here?"

"I left something behind." She lied suavely, already recited it well enough in her brain to sound convincing even if it was still a stupid excuse. But it seemed to work, probably with the added effect from her stern expression that stop the guard's puzzling doubts too.

He nodded and pressed a button, opening the automatic gates. "Call me if you need anything else."

Aoko gave a grateful nod and headed towards the lift.

There were more times she could remember staying overnight in the headquarters because of difficult cases, especially the battle against the Black Organization. She'd grown accustomed to the quietness in the dark shadows of the corridors and corners, or at least that was what she thought. All the offices she passed were empty and pitch black, and Aoko had to use her phone's light to find her way to the cold-case file room.

Once she was inside, she flicked the lights on, the sudden brightness blinded her for a second as she made her way to the other end of the room.

#289: Kuroba Toichi

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the file and opened the cover.

Kuroba Toichi. World-renowned magician. Death by smoke inhalation.

It was supposed to be a simple case. Most of the facts and evidence tallied enough to rule it as an accidental fire that broke out during an unfortunate performance mistake. But after a new discovery of several empty, non-licensed bullet shells at the scene, it changed everything, making the case more complicated than it seemed.

A year of futile investigation later, it was shelved away as a cold case.

Aoko flipped back to the front page, eyes running across the words until she saw the year of death; it happened nearly 16 years ago.

16years ago? But Snake looked exactly the same in her dream as the last time she saw him at the trial after being condemned to life in prison. If she was dreaming of being Kaitou Kid in Kuroba Toichi's memory, Snake couldn't have looked so old in her dreams. He would only be at most in his late twenties.

And then the few jewels she dreamt as Kid stealing… Those heists couldn't be more than a decade old; She recognized one of the jewels from a news she read in high school (and she once thought she saw herself among the audience too).

The timeline didn't match.

She continued through the file.

Pictures of collapsed pillars, charred ceilings… Nothing that helped.

CCTV checks. No suspicious people (But it malfunctioned at the moment of the explosion).

Over dozens of interrogations with Kuroba Toichi's rivals in the magic industry. Fruitless.

Co-workers and friends bearing grudges on him? No. He was popular among everyone.

Feud among relatives? No. He had a loving wife and son.

Wife and son.

Another flip of the page.

Wife: Kuroba Chikage
Son: Kuroba Kaito

All the other words and information were drowned out by the photograph that was smacked right in the middle of the paper.

It was a family of three standing in front of a house.

Though the colours had faded to a pale yellow tint, it wasn't enough to ruin the essence of the happy-looking family that was staring back at Aoko, as though they knew she was watching them. She gently traced her index finger from Kuroba Toichi to his wife, outlining her beautiful features and dark purple hair. Slowly, she moved to the little boy, whose height barely reaching his father's waist. He was beaming from ear to ear, but all Aoko felt was hollow.

She brought the file nearer to her face to take a closer look.

Bright teeth, messy hair.

Sapphire-coloured eyes.

Her throat sucked back the breath she couldn't exhale when realisation dawned upon her.

Aoko recognized him—!

/ 'Dad! Don't go!' /

Oh my God.

It came at once, almost too fast for Aoko to catch on; Those dreams she dreamt as Kid and those dreams she dreamt as the man with the scar on his left thumb and the nightmare she dreamt as the little boy in the fire...

They were all the same person.

She didn't know if Kuroba Toichi was ever Kaitou Kid before he died, but she knew the Kaitou Kid that faced Snake that night wasn't him.

It was his son.

The boy who begged him not to go into the fire that killed him.

Kuroba Kaito.

All these dreams belonged to Kuroba Kaito.

Kuroba Kaito was Kaitou Kid.

Sapphire-coloured eyes.

But he — Kaitou Kid — wasn't dead

/ "No, it's fine. Just a scratch." /

The file slowly slid off Aoko's hand and dropped onto the floor with a loud thud.

She remembered finding the man at the ice rink familiar in all different ways, like how his sapphire-coloured eyes widened when he looked up at her, and how he avoided her gaze when she tried to look at him. And she could only wonder, why, of all the things she remembered, she didn't remember that was exactly what Kaitou Kid did when he was detonating the bomb on her three years ago.

Does he know me…? She bit her lips, trying to stifle the hiccups and chokes from escaping. Was it why he… ran off…?

Aoko slapped a hand over her eyes to stop her tears, but it continued to fall. She clawed her chest to stop her heart from thumping wildly like it was going to burst, but it still did. She prayed to all the Gods she knew to wake her up from this dream, but all she saw when she peeled open her swollen eyes were shelves of tragedies that lacked a conclusion.

It wasn't a dream.

And she never once so badly wished that it was.

.o.

It was kind of like a rhythm. A knock. A bell. A knock. A bell. And if Shinichi forced himself hard enough to imagine it this way, maybe his brain would treat it as some kind of lullaby and soothe him back to sleep.

A knock again. Two seconds later, a bell followed.

Ran stirred beside him and gave a low groan into his neck. "Shinichi… what is… that…?"

Now Shinichi couldn't just leave if as it was when his wife was obviously affected. Giving an irritated sigh, he flung himself out of his bed to stop the annoying sounds, but not before wrapping the rest of the blanket over Ran's exposed legs. He then grabbed his watch from his bed desk and buckled it around his wrist before leaving his room and dragging himself down the stairs. The tranquilliser dart would definitely come in handy if he decided the visitor's reason for interrupting his sleep wasn't good enough.

Another bell came on the cue when he reached the living room.

"I'm coming." He growled and grabbed the handle of his door. On a safer side, he stopped and peered through the peephole, to check if there was a need to change his choice of weapon.

Those stupid thoughts instantly vanished once he realised who was outside. He unlocked the door immediately and flung it open.

The visitor beat him in his greeting.

"Inspector Kudo."

"Aoko?" Shinichi gasped, the weariness in his system gone. He frowned, and blinked, just to confirm his brain wasn't playing tricks on him, especially the part where her eyes were glinting with tears he couldn't understand. "Is everything okay?" He tentatively asked.

She stood there for the full five seconds and gave no answer.

"Shinichi…?" Ran called out from the second floor before she sleepily climbed down the stairs, her slippers slapping gracefully against the wooden flooring. "And Nakamori-san?"

Before Shinichi could turn and address his wife, Aoko spoke.

"Kaitou Kid isn't dead."

And then she suddenly grabbed his arms, shocking him as he staggered a few steps back when she pushed her way through and into his house.

What...?

"You knew, didn't you? Kaitou Kid isn't dead. He didn't die that night. He's still alive." Aoko squeezed his arms tightly and looked at him, face hardened (He presumed she had practised and practised until the words had become stern enough to be delivered without breaking down and looking weak or vulnerable).

"Aoko—"

But her brave facade didn't last for long.

"Please." A whimper escaped from her lips and she began to cry, tears falling down her glossy eyes as the sound of her ugly sobs and snorts echoed in the mansion, and he couldn't look at her without feeling like a bucket of guilt was poured over his head. "Please tell me the truth." She begged again, her shoulders slouched and head lowered.

"Shinichi." Ran muttered when she reached to his side, her cold voice sliced through like a blade over grass.

He knew what her gaze meant.

"It's…" Shinichi sighed, his will to lie gone before it even came. "It's not my secret to tell." He finally admitted.

Aoko jerked, her arms slowly fell back to her side. "Does that mean…?"

"I can't control how you want to interpret it, but that's all I can say."

Shinichi had, selfishly, almost forgotten Aoko's sole and main purpose of joining his Task Force to bring the Black Organization down. He remembered how Kid's 'death' had impacted her more than anyone else he knew, but he didn't realise it was this much, and her shock of knowing he was alive all along was relatively similar too.

Though the media and public known him to have retired, Kid insisted in keeping the rest who knew about his 'death' to remain as it was, so besides Hakuba, Hattori and himself, no one else knew he was actually alive. Shinichi wanted to ask how and what Aoko did to get that enormous amount of faith to be sure that Kaitou Kid wasn't dead. Even Ran took a year before she dared to acknowledge the possibility that he was Conan. How long had Aoko been suspecting? A month? A year?

Was it since the day when Kid saved her from her death-fall?

Why hadn't he noticed the signs?

Ran was the only one out of the trio to be the least distracted from the never ending thoughts. She spoke, breaking the cold silence Shinichi didn't know was there. "Nakamori-san, are you alright?" She asked.

Aoko pursed her lips. Her eyes wavered uncertainly at her hand before she clenched it into a hard fist. "I got to go." She whispered, almost to herself.

"Where are you going?" Shinichi furrowed his brows. "I can't allow you to wander off in such a state."

"It's late too." Ran cut in worriedly and cuffed a hand around Aoko's wrist. "You should stay."

"I'm okay." Aoko shook her head and tapped Ran's hand in assurance. "I've disturbed the two of you enough. And I need to go."

"If you're talking about work, then no." Shinichi said, his voice traced with an act of superiority. "You're going to take a day off and rest here. We have a guest room."

"No." Aoko replied with the same amount of firmness as he gave. Before Shinichi could try a retort again, she looked at him, eyes fiery with determination that he'd seen once and only once; The day when she wanted to join him to bring the Black Organization down.

He was too dumbstruck to say or do anything, and she took the chance to mutter a "I need to go," again and left for the door.

.o.

"Thank you for sending me home, Kaito-botchama."

"It's nothing." Kaito waved a hand. "I'll drop by your bar again soon."

Jii nodded, his wrinkled hands caressing over the helmet Kaito got for him years ago (which reminded Kaito to buy a new one for him soon). "Anyway, you should hurry home and rest; It's late and you looked tired." The old man said.

"I'm fine," was an excuse that Kaito had used it far too often that it'd long lost its effect. Agreeing was a better choice, even if it was a lie. "That's the first thing I'm going to do after this."

Jii smiled, seeming pleased after the assurance. "Alright, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

And Kaito sped off, the chokes from the engines filling the silence of the night.

The problem with his weariness wasn't because he didn't sleep. He was tired from trying to sleep. He'd spent more hours tossing in his bed than getting the rest, and it didn't exactly help when he was unconsciously afraid of the dreams he knew he was going to dream about.

So, instead of driving his motorbike towards the direction of his home, he made a detour, to the place he wanted to go for a long time ago.

The lack of traffic in the middle of the night helped to smooth his driving and he reached his destination within a good twenty minutes. He kicked the side-stand down and got off his motorbike as he pulled his helmet out, shaking away the hair that was stuck to his face. Bracing himself, he slowly set the helmet down onto his motorbike's seat and glanced up, to stare at the old and abandoned building he came for.

It still looked exactly what he last saw; including the dark sky and lack of lights.

Kaito trudged his way in.

The door was broken apart, giving a big enough space for Kaito to enter without touching anything. Every inch of the room was coated in layers of dusts, and at least a dozen kind of different spider breeds had stayed in the corners of the wall at some point of time. The floor whined with every step Kaito made, and he briefly wondered how he even managed to go all the way up to the top floor without alerting Snake and the rest of his gang all those years ago.

After he finished roaming around the first floor, he began climbing the stairs, stopping at each floor to take a brief look around before continuing his way up. His senses would crawl in response when he recognised a few parts of the building, like the chipped glasses and broken windows, but to say that Kaito was nostalgic… it would be the same as saying fishes were adorable. But when he reached to the particular door; the door he truly came for, it would be a lie if he say he never felt sentimental towards this place at all.

There were a few old and flimsy police-tapes blocking the entrance, and he plucked them all down and tossed it to the side. Once all things were out of his way, including the mental barriers that were making his movement hesitant, he headed towards the huge pillar in the middle of the musty, dark room.

Slowly, he squatted before the pillar and reached a hand to touch the cool spot on the ground.

/ "This is all because of you." /

No matter how far he always pushed those memories to the back of his head, it would always resurface back to haunt him instead. It was Nakamori Aoko's voice; those words which she spat with gritted teeth and tears in her angry eyes.

He always used those words to tie him back to the core reason of making sure Kaitou Kid stay dead. It was true. Everything happened because of him. Because even if he saved the children of the Task Force members, even if he was called the unsung hero who 'sacrificed' his life for everyone's safety, it didn't make him less guilty for putting the hostages through that traumatic state.

It didn't at all—

"You're here."

Kaito froze, his ears twitched at the sound of the voice he thought would fit better with a snarl, comparably than being all wistful like now.

It couldn't be...

Maybe if he stayed in his position and pretended the voice was just from his subconscious, it would go away.

"Kuroba Kaito."

The voice was too loud and clear to ignore. This was far worse than what he feared the most, and he wasn't prepared for it at all.

His fingers scrunched up into a fist as he pushed his knuckles into the ground, giving him support as he raised to his feet. Slowly, and tentatively, he turned, his heart squeezing as he did.

Once he caught her blue eyes, he breathed.

"Nakamori Aoko."

.

---

A/N: Spent literally four days trying to solve the plot-hole. It's still there, but let's pretend it isn't T.T
I'm utterly sorry about the monster-length (omfg this is like the most I've written for a chapter?!) Could have split it up for a better read, but at the same time I want it to end up nicely by only cutting it off here. Nonetheless hope you guys enjoyed, and I love all of your sweet reviews to the moon and back :')
P.S: To those who thought it's a two-shot.. I'm even more sorry hahaha, but on a bright note, there's just one more to go