Disclaimer: "Detective Conan" belongs to Gosho Aoyama, and "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" belongs to Naoko Takeuchi.
This is an alternative story to my other fanfic "Encounter in Venice" and one of the possibilities of what could have happened if Ai had taken the antidote before Shinichi brought down the Organization.
Thanks a lot to my friends and betas Rae (Astarael00) and SN1987a and the Aicoholics on LiveJournal, without whom I would never have started this fic.
This chapter has been betaed by aritzen (SN1987a), who hasn't only kept me motivated for years but is even betaing the long fic now that it has ended. I can't thank her enough!
FS
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Ghost at Twilight
(edited version)
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How many faux pas...
How many faux pas can one make during one single evening, I wonder, cursing myself for my mistaken assumption that he has actually asked me for permission to spend the night in my apartment. But then again, I wouldn't continually make a fool of myself if it weren't for Kudo sending out mixed messages, confusing me. Irritated and lost for words, I make for my bedroom to fetch my mobile phone for him while he takes off his jacket, murmuring something about not wanting to wear the heavy jacket now since it will take the taxi a while to come here.
"Don't you dare come into my bedroom!" I warn him, as he has followed me and is now standing at the door with one arm touching the frame above his head, his silhouette looking exactly the same as it was three years ago. Memory is surely an odd thing, storing all the unnecessary things you think you've forgotten, hiding them somewhere where you don't have any access to them. Then, out of the blue, all that is needed is just a little breeze or a familiar gesture, and it's all coming back to you, little unimportant details like the scent of the tea or the movie on TV... How come I can still remember the weather so clearly? The night he took the permanent antidote was just like tonight, cool and damp, starless with a full moon hanging lonely in the sky.
"Why not?" he asks in disbelief.
Ignoring his silly question, I pull my mobile phone out of a drawer and hand it to him.
"Here."
"It's still locked. Is the code Ayumi-chan's birthday?"
"No, wait!" I take it back to insert the four-digit code with my thumb while holding the phone upright and the screen away from him so that he can't see what I'm typing. It's already half-past two, probably time for me to go to bed as well if I've become so distracted that I even forgot to unlock my phone before giving it to him.
"You've received plenty of new mails," Kudo says, peering over my shoulder at the screen of my phone. Startled, I wonder how he has managed to sneak up behind me. In the years we didn't see each other, he must have acquired the uncanny ability to move as silently as a cat and appear where I don't expect him.
None of your business! Don't read! Just call the taxi, I snap at him in disconnected sentences, pushing the phone towards him.
"Of course I won't read them," he claims, puzzled at my outburst. "What's wrong with you?"
Wrong with me? Why me when he is the one snooping around in the bedroom of a woman who is not his girlfriend in the middle of the night?
I sigh, realizing that now I'm the one who is overreacting. With a vengeance, I can feel the typical post-antidote headache approaching and realize that I've foolishly given all of my remaining APAH capsules to him.
"I think I'm having a headache, too. Can you give me a capsule?"
Kudo fetches the bottle of APAH, generously hands me two capsules and a glass of water, and takes out about ten to twelve capsules for himself, which he devours all at once. I should really find a new way to feed him APAH because there is no sense in filling those tiny capsules for him if he doesn't even count them.
Before my eyes, I can see an older version of him in ten years—haggard, with a beard, ruffled hair, and swollen eyes—talking to one child or two: "Daddy must visit Auntie Shiho now to ask for more painkillers before we go to Tropical Land together. Please wait for me for an hour, I'll be back in no time!" before running off and returning seven hours later. "I'm so sorry, I had to solve a case on my way. But we can go to Tropical Land tomorrow..."
"You know, I actually think it will be better if you make APAH on your own," I tell him after taking the two capsules he handed me. "If we need to change something about the formula, I can give you a new copy tomorrow after the check-up."
"Oh no!" he exclaims. "You know I could never mix it on my own!"
"If you can't mix it on your own, you will always depend on me." I try to be patient, reminding myself that I'm talking to a man who has been waited on hand and foot for the past three years. "The copy of the formula I gave you with the antidote... do you still have it?"
"Yes," he sighs. "It's in a drawer in my desk, or so I think. You just reminded me that I need to declutter my drawers because nothing fits into them anymore."
"What about getting a secretary? Anyhow, I'll print you another copy just in case you've lost the previous one. You can read it here and ask me if there is something you don't understand."
He impatiently waves my suggestion away.
"I already read it when you gave it to me. I could assist you and help you make APAH if you like. But you know what happens whenever I try to cook on my own... It's not like I've never tried to mix APAH before. I did it once." He shudders at the remembrance.
"Then try it again since it obviously didn't kill you," I comment without pity. "You're only lazy because you've been spoiled by Ran."
That's true, he admits. Still, he really can't prepare food for the life of him. And it's definitely not laziness, as he has no problems doing the laundry and cleaning the house. Cooking, however, is something entirely different. If he were single, he would have to visit the restaurants in Beika regularly.
Making APAH is not cooking, I insist. But if he wants to regard it as such, he should think of it as one dish. Anyone can learn to prepare one dish well if they've practised it long enough, and it will take him only half an hour in the morning. I hesitate for a moment before adding decisively, "You will have to learn it whether you want to or not because I'm not going to mix it for you anymore."
Ignoring his shocked expression, I disappear into my bedroom, open my laptop, and connect it to the printer while he paces up and down in front of the door, probably fretting about the thought of having to fill the hundreds of APAH capsules on his own.
"Are there still any good restaurants in Beika?" I casually ask, thinking that they all have had to make way for new shopping centres and fast food restaurants.
"There are still three," he says quietly, stopping at the door, "if you count the Poirot."
There is something in his voice—a nostalgic undertone?—which makes me pause to look at him. He has seemed rather pensive ever since we arrived at my apartment, which I've blamed on his sleepless nights and APAH addiction. But now I wonder if something else has happened to him which he has yet to tell me.
"Just spill the beans, Kudo!" I prefer a blunt approach since we're running out of time. "What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" He pretends to be clueless.
"Listen, I can't put my finger on it, but something is bothering you. Unless it's something confidential you can't talk about, why don't you just tell me before you go?"
Kudo is gazing down at me with an intense stare, apparently wondering whether to tell me his secret or not.
"There is something, but I don't know if it's really the reason why I feel so utterly drained since my nap at home... Maybe I'm only getting sick."
"Anybody would get sick if they don't get enough sleep! But what's bothering you so much?"
A smile momentarily lights up his face before it disappears and he looks serious again.
"There is something in your hair!"
I raise my brow at him.
"Don't try to distract me with such a cheap trick, Kudo. Just spill it already!"
He bends forward and tugs at my hair with two impertinent fingers, removing a tiny petal, which probably belonged to a cherry blossom.
"I thought it was a bug," he says, apologetically. "Well, I didn't know if I should tell you before Ran makes it public, but you're going to learn it from Ran or Sonoko anyway. Ran is going to Osaka next month."
"For Hattori's wedding?"
"No, not only for that... She is going to teach karate there. She plans to stay there for a long time."
So that's the true reason for his melancholy—the prospect of a long-distance relationship for who knows how many years. Why Ran even considers leaving him for Osaka is a mystery to me. Hasn't she told Sonoko and me once that she wouldn't be able to wait for him again? Having had to wait for him for too long when he was shrunk, her capacity to wait for him seems to have been sucked dry after his return. Also, being with someone like Kudo means having to live in a state of constant worry about his safety whenever he is not present.
"Why Osaka and not Tokyo?"
Three years ago, on the bus to the hospital where Hattori, Kudo, and I had been admitted to after the downfall of the Organization, Ran protected an elderly lady from a thief who tried to steal her handbag, Kudo tells me. Afterwards they spent the rest of the journey chatting with each other, and it turned out that the husband of the lady was a karate master who didn't know what to do with his dojo after his retirement because, in his opinion, the few students of his who possessed the necessary skills didn't have the necessary strength of character to be his successor. Ran, who had been good friends with the wife since the incident, had visited the dojo a few times and taken a few lessons from him. He seemed to be extremely pleased with her because, a few weeks ago, he asked her to take over the dojo.
While Kudo knew that it's quite an honour to receive such an offer at such a young age, he didn't expect that Ran would actually go. He had taken it for granted that she would stay in Tokyo because of him.
"I wouldn't have expected it either," I agree with him. "It's not only you, but she is so extremely protective of her father as well... I thought she would want to stay here to take care of him for fear that he would drink himself to death without her."
"Ah, that…" Kudo waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Her mother told Ran that, if Ran goes to Osaka, she would sacrifice herself to make sure that the fool didn't starve or drink himself into his grave. Needless to say, that only strengthened Ran's decision to go, especially now that Sonoko is going to leave Tokyo, too."
"And what are you going to do about it? I don't think it's good for you two to endure the long-distance thing. It usually doesn't work."
He slowly shakes his head at me.
"No, it's not that!" He abruptly turns away. "We've never considered a long-distance relationship at all," I hear his voice saying as he hurries to the sofa. "I'm actually going with her to Osaka."
The earth seems to have stopped spinning with just one sentence. And it suddenly dawns on me that I, too, have always taken it for granted that Kudo would stay forever in Tokyo. The thought of him going away has never, not for once, entered my mind.
People are moving all the time, says a voice in my head. It's not like you will never see him again. Also, Osaka is not as far away as London or New York. They will certainly come back to visit her parents once in a while, and friends who are not direct neighbours—you, for instance—probably won't even notice that they're gone.
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A/N: This chapter has been split although I've merged two other chapters together so that the story will remain 77 chapters long. :)
In other news, I've left the CoAi server on Discord since I write too slowly these days and read less than I used to. I've also neglected work so that I'll have to cram in the next weeks. There are many reasons for my loss of focus in the past three months, but one of them is my habit of following (and backreading) the chats and adding my worthless two cents now and then when people talk about something I'm interested in). It's hard for me to resist even when I'm busy (it's a bit like eavesdropping on other people whenever I'm on a train, another habit I often succumb to even when I have other things to take care of). Maybe I'm going to return from time to time when I have more time and self-control although I don't plan to do it soon.
If you know me from the CoAi server and want to contact me for some reason but haven't talked to me in DMs yet, you can do it by sending me PMs on this site or on my Dreamwidth journal (on any entry you like). :) It was really fun to hang out on the server; but fandom breeds tons of little plunnies while starving the big ones I've fed for years, and I'm never going to finish "Encounter in Venice" if I don't return to plotting and writing in my free time.