Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito. I don't own a good internal clock, either...
Tuesday.
The next morning, Shinichi woke up to a strange pressure on his bed.
His eyes fluttered open to a stack of case files.
Did Megure-keibu hire a new rookie or something like that…? The detective didn't think that anyone else would send him so many files except for…
With a sneaking suspicion in mind, the great detective flipped through a folder and, sure enough, it was about KID. Little red print in the margins pointed out strange little details, as if someone had stayed up nights poring over this…
…with all that in mind, it was most likely someone obsessed with KID, and someone who, looking at the notes, clearly thought that the elusive thief was a Japanese high school boy…
…it was probably Hakuba Saguru. Was this that thing about Kuroba and KID again?
Shinichi sighed deeply. Was his list of headaches to increase from just the statistically impossible number of cases to that and an emotional tangle?
After a quick breakfast, he walked to school with his kohai.
"Good morning, Sempai…"
"Did something happen?" the detective asked, seeing through the smiles.
"…it's not that… important…"
"Honestly, I don't really mind. Just tell me, if it's bothering you that much."
"…well…" Kuroba started, but was soon interrupted by a blond classmate.
No points for guessing it was Hakuba Saguru.
"Good morning, Kudo-san, Kuroba. Kudo-san, did you get those case files I sent you? Do you believe me now?"
Kuroba's eyes seemed to almost flash angrily, as if they were twin spheres of lightning, but he did not say anything.
Hakuba smirked.
"Honestly, Kuroba, you shouldn't do that. Kudo-san, you should really see this guy in a fight. I seem to remember him flipping up Aoko-san's skirt countless times..."
"Hakuba."
It was a final, calm, tone that meant so much more than any shout could. It spoke volumes of rage. It whispered seas of hatred. It was like the soft slice of the guillotine; like the nailing of a coffin; it warned of the end.
The other detective's smirk widened.
"So, Kudo-san, are you willing to help me? Uou don't need to answer now, but..."
"Hakuba."
Kuroba almost growled, spit, the name.
In the distance, a carillon rang fifteen minutes to class. The other detective bowed his head.
"Well, I suppose I'll retreat for today. Au revoir, Kudo-san. If you're still interested, we could always meet up. So call me."
He pressed a scrap of paper into Shinchi's hand.
Almost instantly, Kuroba seemed to shrink back.
"I... I'm really sorry about... that... Sempai... I... I... I..."
The detective cut him off.
"It's fine, Kuroba. Besides, this whole plot is for me to get to know you better, right? Doesn't that include your flaws as well?"
"...thank you..."
"If you really want, I'll give you that guy's number."
"I... It's... It's... really fine..."
"No, I insist. Here. That's better, right?"
"...Sempai..."
"That would be what you call me."
"Sempai!"
Shinichi laughed at his kohai's expression, slipping the paper into his hand.
On that note, they parted.
Something inside the detective, could not be satisfied. Worse, the more he looked into things, the more parallels he could find between Kuroba and KID. It was insane. Their fear of "f-f-finny things", their love of slight of hand, and so and so on, until one could almost wonder where two such similar people could be found.
And roses shifted just the slightest bit under the moonlight; parting, as if they were being pulled away.
AN: I am so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry about this. I completely forgot in the midst of life and school and everything else. Please forgive me! I'll write two chapters a day until I can make this up, I am so sorry! Seriously, feeling like one would fall asleep at the drop of a hat probably isn't healthy, either...