[_]ARC 1

[_]CHAPTER 4

[_]DISBELIEVING THE FACTS

Truth be told, he had sort of been expecting as much.

He stared down through the unbroken window - the only window that had remained mostly unshattered in the entire room - and smirked a bit, admittedly genuinely happy to see the person there. Because the presence of that person meant a lot more things than first came to mind. Namely the fact that he wasn't in the nurse's office any longer and was therefore probably not speaking Spanish. He undid the latches on the window and pushed it out all the way. He whispered out to the person, voice quiet so as to not disturb the others in the room but laced with sarcasm thick enough to be sliced with a knife. "What a fantastic time for you to drop in, Kuroba!"

"Hey, cut the crap, Hakuba. What the hell happened in here?" Straight to the point. But... It seemed sort of odd for Kuroba of all people to not know what was going on. Sure, he hadn't actually been there when the whole bomb thing happened, but still. Kuroba always seemed to know everything, and if he didn't he would act like it. Hakuba then found himself slightly shaken - slightly scared - slightly apprehensive that the situation was serious enough that Kuroba was managing to hold his inner comedian together. He sighed exhaustedly and sweeped a quick glance across the room behind him. "There was... a bomb. Well, first a note, I've got it here, but that doesn't really matter right now -" he pointedly ignored Kuroba's attempt to cut him off about the note; figures that he'd be so interested, "but the fact is that someone planned this. Someone planted that bomb in that clock and knew our bell schedule well enough that they were able to detonate the bomb the second the last bell went off. This note tipped me off, but I - I was too late. I tried to get everyone out but there just wasn't enough time. And then the ceiling collapsed on the other side of the room, so now we can't get out. None of us are really well enough to get out on our own, and the ones who are don't want to abandon their friends."

"What about you? You look fine, and you don't really seem like the person that would have any reason to be here." Kuroba was obviously not noticing his blood soaked clothes. That was fine with him. But really, in all seriousness, that guy was acting really off his game today. A brief thought that maybe it was the fall after all came in passing, but was easily brushed off when he recalled that Kuroba had gone through worse. All the same, though, it only took one bad hit to the head...

He shrugged. "I feel sort of responsible for this. You know how it feels," he added. He didn't mention Aoko-chan.

"I would say there's about an eighty percent chance that you're implying something by that," Kuroba grinned like the cat that ate the canary, "but since you know as well as I do that you're wrong about whatever it is that you're trying to blame me for, I'm not even gonna bother telling you otherwise. Now. Back to business," he scoured the room for perhaps the first time. The Poker Face obviously wasn't working as he took everything in. His next question was completely soaked in disbelief. "This all just happened?"

Hakuba frowned, tight lipped about the whole thing. He didn't know why he didn't want to talk about. It would have been logical for him to want to talk about it, for him to want to heave all the worries and strife off his own back and onto someone else more willing. He stared guiltily at the ground, hands in his pockets as he spoke. "...Yes."

"Hmm. Not too shabby, especially for you, Hakuba. I've got to say -"

"Shut the hell up, Kuroba! You know how bad this is! Don't try to lessen the severity of it by just pretending. We're all sick of that, Kuroba – we're all sick of you pretending. That's all you do. Every day, you just waltz in here and pretend you're not Kaitou Kid, pretend you're not up to something, pretend that nothing's ever as bad as it really is. How do you think Aoko-chan feels to be lied to like that? Everyday? Stop thinking about yourself. Stop trying to make yourself feel better! Can't you just see that you're hurting everyone else by trying to bring yourself to the top? It's not fair to anyone else. Or – or is that the only thing you care about? Being number one? I'd really hate to think that of you, Kuroba."

"Damn," the other boy looked everywhere else besides Hakuba. "I guess I never really thought about it that way. But you know... there's just – some things in life are just more important, I guess. Just that little bit more important. And – and it takes you away from doing anything else that you want to do in life. But, but really, either way... you – I – don't get a choice in the matter. Life just throws these things at you. I don't want to be like this." He was shaking slightly, but enough that Hakuba was almost sure that the guy was quivering. "But I have to."

That – I'm sorry, Kuroba. But I still don't understand everything about your situation. I never will, not unless you explain it to me. And I'm guessing that won't be for a while, if ever. But you can't keep doing this. Don't. Come on, Kuroba, you're better than this. "Just – just get in here. Or stay out. Make up your mind. If you come in here then you need to help, though," he added as an afterthought.

Kuroba nodded, shaking long gone and expressionless mask back in place. He heaved himself over the sill and hopped over the short wall. A couple of his classmates finally noticed him and gave him curious glances. He waved to them all and called out, "Long time, no see, guys!" They all harrumphed and turned back to their own business, which, personally, Hakuba liked better. Kuroba didn't need all the attention, anyway. He got enough of it as Kid, that attention-seeking egotistical baka.

And then Kuroba really saw it all. Saw the blood on the floor, still not dry yet. Saw the crushed bodies underneath some of the rubble, still not saved yet. Saw the EMTs shaking the heads, knowing that it was too late for a few of them. Saw the teacher shaking in the corner, scared out of her wits because she didn't know what to do. Saw the entire class crying, shrieking, yelling, wailing for help. When Hakuba looked back at the guy he saw the tear tracks on his face again, face pale and eyes wide. And he was so suddenly brought back to right after the bomb had gone off. People screaming bloody murder. Aoko-chan bloodied and bruised. His entire body numb, with both pain and regret. And then he didn't feel bad for Kuroba at all.

"This..." the forbidden words of disbelief again, "this couldn't have happened. It couldn't have. No. No."

That last word, spoken with such believed vivacity, such validity, was what got Hakuba started. "Face it. Kuroba - this happened. Not believing it isn't going to set back time. Come on. You can do this. Pull yourself together and help your classmates out."

For one, Kuroba looked truly astonished with those words. He looked as if Hakuba had just slapped him in the face. But the expression was gone in a second, leaving the teenage detective with lingering doubt as to whether he had just imagined it. But he never did, did he? He never just imagined something, it was never just a figment of his imagination. He never was a creative person. It was part of the reason why he was such a great detective, in his own opinion. Still, that specific aspect of his personality was never one that he truly prided himself for. But it made him who he was. Which was exactly why he did not just imagine that look on Kuroba's face. He thought back through their conversation, searching for whatever it was that he said to get that reaction. He didn't come up with anything. Maybe he was a bit denser than he thought.

Or – or maybe it was something deeper than what he was looking at. Maybe he had dug a little too deep at Kuroba's own personality. That probably was it. He had pointed out the flaws in the guy's Poker Face by simply implying that it wasn't working. He had told him to pull himself together, after all. Or maybe he was just thinking too hard and Kuroba didn't like to get ordered around my some annoying British prick. For some reason he doubted that last one.

"You're right. Sorry. It's nothing." And simple as that, a sheet was thrown over the problem and left to be ignored. It didn't feel right to Hakuba. It felt... wrong. He had no clue why. If Kuroba wanted to forget about it, why shouldn't he go along with it? And really, what had he been expecting from the King of Magic – the King of Smoke, Mirrors, Lies, and Masks – himself? Forgiveness? Pshh. All things considered, and then he still played along anyway. He led him over to the bare edge of the commotion. Kuroba piped up a question that Hakuba really was dreading. "Where's Aoko?"

Personally, he had his own reasons for not wanting to answer that question. It made him think about what she looked like when he had regained consciousness. He remembered all that blood. All that blood. He remembered that feeling of fear. He never wanted to feel that again. And he most prominently remembered her innocent question of what happened. Why was she in pain. Why did it happen. And it pained him most to know that he did, in fact, have those answers. But there were also other reasons why he didn't want to answer Kuroba's question, specifically. For one, he honestly had no idea what had happened to her after they had taken her away. And he didn't want to be the one to tell the guy that he hadn't bothered to follow along. All that aside, what he really didn't want to do, though, was have to tell Kuroba that Aoko-chan had gotten hurt. That was the biggest reason of them all. He didn't want to have to see the guilt written all over the guy's face, saying in big bold letters "I should've been there" and he didn't want any disappointed glares from him, either, saying "You were there. Why didn't you help her?"

"She's – they got her out. Before the ceiling collapsed over there." He motioned to there. "The EMTs took her out. She's safe. Don't worry. I – um. She's not as bad as you think. Just – just a few scratches. Nothing big."

He had never told a bigger lie in his life. Maybe it was the way she walked, with that limp ever so prevalent, but he seemed wary of the prospect that she was okay. She was the type of girl that would hide her pain to make others think she was okay and not have them worry and fret over her. She didn't like attention. She was a wallflower. But for her, a masochist (for lack of a better word), to display so blatantly a limp... There must have been other things that were wrong, as well. And for all Hakuba knew, that was the least of it.

Kuroba was talking now. His thinking had made him miss like half the sentence. He chastised himself for being an idiot during such a matter as this and listened. "- know? Jeez, you're a detective. You should really know more then just that. But it's good that she's okay, I guess." Kuroba looked at Hakuba's eyes. It made him uncomfortable, because it felt like he was looking into his soul and seeing every lie, every bad thing he had ever done. "...you're lying. How bad is she, really? She's – she's not..." The implications hung in the air like hundred pound weights.

A sigh. "There was... something off about her. I couldn't really tell what it was. She had a limp or something. I'm pretty sure she can't be any worse than me, though. But she's going to be fine. She was able to walk around, so there's a plus. So don't look at me and ask me if she's going to die again, okay?"

Nodding, and then silence. It occurred to Hakuba that he really had no idea what to even do. How was he supposed to help his classmates – his friends – the victims of this terrible tragedy? What was he supposed to do? He cast a quick glance at Kuroba but tried to pretend he didn't because he didn't want him to think that there wasn't anything to do. That would make him bored. Nobody liked a bored Kuroba Kaito, in any situation. He was frighteningly terrifying, to say the least. Not to mention that there obviously had to be something to do, since people were still hurt and people were still in desperate need of saving. He stepped over to the giant pile of rubble, where a girl – Honda Kaede, if he remembered correctly – lay unconscious and under a couple pieces of ceiling. She was effectively trapped, and if they got her out quickly enough, she wouldn't even remember a bit of it.

"Kuroba," he called. The other boy rushed over quickly. "Help me pick these tiles off her. The school apparently thought it was a good idea to use twenty pound ceiling tiles and I'm," he gestured to himself, "clearly not well enough to lift these myself." At Kuroba's opposition to that statement, he added, "After all, I did just survive a bombing."

Humorous yet completely insufficient. He knew that. He knew exactly how to play his cards right. Kuroba was the only one that was good at poker. But there was no response, so he took that as Kuroba understanding that he did not want to talk about his injuries at this current moment in time. Good. Because he really didn't feel like finding out just how badly he was hurt. It probably wasn't good. His uniform felt dry and crisp yet slightly damp at the same time. That probably meant that the blood was drying, and if the blood was drying, then he hopefully wasn't bleeding anymore. Whatever. It didn't matter. He held his side of the tile and Kuroba held his. He counted to three and they heaved it up, over to the pile that wasn't on a body. A pile that was close enough that they didn't have to walk around and maneuver the room to put it down, but far enough away that it wouldn't accidently slide off and back onto her. That would be bad.

Ten minutes later – the amount of time it took them was greatly increased by his own handicaps, and only his – they were done. Kuroba, since he had the friendlier face and more personable air about him, crouched down and shook her, seeing if she would wake up. If she didn't, then she had bigger problems and they would probably have to notify one of the paramedics. But she did wake up, so they didn't have to worry about that. The first thing she saw was Kuroba's smiling face.

"Hey, Kaede-chan. How are you feeling?" False cheeriness lightly laced his words, concern being prominent to no one but Hakuba, and only him because he knew what to look for. It was better this way, though; greeting her with "happiness". They didn't want to startle her, especially since she had just gone through something really traumatic. And they didn't know if she could handle it. Better to ease her back into reality.

She looked up incredulously at Kuroba. She was obviously surprised to see him, of all people. Hakuba put himself in her position and agreed with her on that. He'd be surprised, too. He recalled that it had only been last week that Kuroba's antics had brought him to sneaking into the girl's locker room and watching them change after gym class. She had apparently been one of the girls he had spied on. He shook his head at the memory, disgusted that Kuroba would stoop that low. Maybe he would have a little chat with him, after all of this was over...

"I'm good." Then she cringed. She closed her eyes. "Okay... maybe not. But... not too... bad. Just a... little... tired... that's all."

Okay, so she was having breathing problems. That was perfectly understandable, but at the same time something to be treated with caution. Knowing something was there didn't make it any less harmful. He frowned, as he had been doing for just about the last hour or so. Actually, he wasn't sure how much time had already passed. He glanced up at the clock, which read 3:40. School got out at around 2:50, so... he was close. Fifty minutes. Just under an hour. All hell had broken loose in just under an hour. It amazed him, and he would have been impressed if it weren't for how grave the situation was. The fact that people were injured – and some were maybe even dead – inevitably floated back to his mind.

Kuroba was busy helping Kaeke up, holding her hand and letting her rest against him. She looked pale and bloody and weak. So different than she had looked an hour. One of her eyes looked swollen shut and her cheek had a huge gash on it. Much too deep to be a simple cut or scrape. His own pain in his side went away as he imagined her injuries on himself. And even that went away as he shoved his hands in his pockets and felt the paper of the note. Speaking of the note...

He tore it out of his pocket and unfolded it (how had it gotten refolded in the first place?). He scanned it. Same message. Same signature. Same result. Nothing changed. But he looked at it, all the more closely than the first time. 'If you can figure it out, I'll set up another one'. Technically he hadn't figured it out. He had been too late. But at the same time, he had figured it out, in the sense that he knew that there was a bomb before it went off. So – so did that mean that there was going to be another one? His cheeks lost their color and his eyes widened. This whole thing... this whole event was going to happen again.

He crushed the note in his hand. The crinkling sound that the paper made made him feel satisfied. It helped him cope, just that little bit. This was going to happen again. Innocent people were going to get hurt again. People were going to die again. He was going to be too late again. There was going to a note again.

And he damn well would find that note before it was too late next time.

…

AN: A couple days late, but what is a girl to do? Longest chapter at 3307 words of actual story (that means not counting author's note, title, etc.). Um. Yeah. Dunno what's gonna happen next. Probably not another note for quite some time, because if each bomb happened so closely together then the entire city of Ekoda would probably go up in flames within the week. So yeah. Hakuba's gonna get checked into the hospital or something. Yeah.