Contrary to popular belief, Kaito had very high respect for personal property.
Well, his property at least.
He took pride and very meticulous care of his belongings.
After all, a thief of all people would know how to protect what is valuable to him.
So that's why he knew that he was missing one of the dark blue button-ups of his Kid uniform.
The magician shrugged at the discovery. Perhaps he lost it a long time ago, during a heist or something, or maybe it got ripped or shredded or shot at some point of his nighttime career and he just forgot to replace it sooner.
The following morning, sneaking into the open window of his favorite detective's bedroom, the sight of his precious girl snuggled into her pillow, long, dark lashes barely brushing the pale, rosy apples of her sleep-flushed cheeks, hair scattered over the bed like a mess of raven feathers while the white dawn warmed her slight, slumbering form, stirred something warm and thick at the pit of his stomach, like glugging down a gallon of heated maple syrup.
Then the sheets covering her shuffled out of place and fell down her hunched shoulder, revealing her night attire.
His missing blue button-up.
In the haze of fuzzy, warm feelings, a particularly clear memory came back to him.
Right. During their pre-dating days, and her time as a regressed seven-year old, he lent her his shirt that one time when she took the antidote to face-off a hijacker who demanded that he would only negotiate with the MIA famous highschool detective. And if she did not appear, he would detonate ten bombs he hid all around the city.
It was a particularly stressful heist night.
The girl shifted deeper into the fallen sheets, burying her face into the overgrown collar of his borrowed shirt.
Squirming awkwardly on the window sill, Kaito had never felt more weak-willed in his entire life as he admitted he didn't have the heart to ask for his forgotten shirt back.
But he did take pictures.