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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What are the odds...
What are the odds that two people who met by chance for the first time during a sunset run into each other again at night in a different district of a city as large as Tokyo? Nevertheless, with this stranger and you, nothing seems beyond the bounds of possibility. Ayumi-chan would tell you that he is your personal genie or your fairy godfather, materializing in front of your eyes whenever he is needed.
But now that your fairy godfather has reappeared and is available for your use, you suddenly become conscious of the fact that there are social norms to follow when it comes to dealing with a man whose name you don't even know. As much as you want him to keep you company in a night like tonight, you can't possibly ask him for it without giving him a misleading impression of your intentions, not counting the problem of finding a bar in Azabu Juuban which is still open at such an hour. Inviting him into your apartment is out of the question even without Kudo on your sofa; and the last option—chatting with him on the street in the middle of the night—doesn't seem like a satisfactory solution to your problem either.
Will he regard you as impertinent if you run down and talk to him at such an hour on the pretext of inquiring about your handbag, you wonder, undecided about how to approach your mystery man without irritating him or waking up the whole neighbourhood. Starting a conversation with a nice stranger sitting on the same bench as you at six p.m. is certainly not the same as bothering the same man at three a.m., especially when he has just left the house of a married woman (Is their relationship really as platonic as he described it?) and is in a hurry to go home.
In the end, your worries turn out to be completely unfounded, for he takes the decision out of your hand as all good fairy godfathers do. Striding down the street, he appears lost in thought until he passes the azalea shrubs in front of your balcony. There, underneath the old lamp—and for no discernible reason—he suddenly stops dead in his tracks and turns round, looking up as if he had instinctively known that you would be there.
"I knew we would see each other again," he says, smiling at you across the fence, the azalea shrubs, and two branches of a cherry tree, "but I didn't expect that it would be so soon."
His beautiful voice, melodious and clear, resonates through the now deserted streets; and you discover in surprise that you're strangely delighted to hear it again.
"I didn't expect that we would meet a second time," you remark. "After all, you haven't even told me your name."
For a moment, the stranger only gazes at you in amazement as though you had said something out of the ordinary. He has completely forgotten about it, he replies in a matter-of-fact voice, as he can't remember the last time he had to introduce himself to another person. Moreover, he realized only after leaving that his private mobile number is not listed in the phone directory.
"I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. Forgetfulness is my second name."
"Now that you've told me your second name, what about telling me your first?" You raise your brow at him. "Or are you so infamous that you can't say your name aloud in public lest anyone hears you?"
There must have been something quite hilarious in what you said, as he only shakes his head and covers his face with his palms, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he were laughing.
"What's so funny?" you ask in bewilderment.
"Sorry," he chuckles, shooting you an amused, not-at-all-apologetic-looking smile. "Well, you look still wide awake just like me. Would you like to go out with me for a drink or a dance tonight?"
"Dancing at three a.m.?" you stare at him, aghast. "Is there anything open besides the lap dance night clubs? No, thank you."
"Two Lights' is still open tonight," he says. "There was a surprise party with a small magic performance by Kuroba Kaito. I think it will last until four or five."
"The performance?" Didn't Kaito tell you that it was supposed to be at midnight?
"No, the performance is over and Kuroba has already left. I meant that the party is still going on."
"How was the performance?"
"Impressive, although it was short and only meant to promote Kuroba's show next month. There were a few very nice card tricks between surprise appearances and disappearances of the magician. Kuroba is extremely talented..." He winks at you with a smile. "... if only he didn't have such a fear of fish."
Startled, you only give him an inquiring look, unsure about whether he could have guessed it so fast without knowing you.
"Kuroba is an acquaintance of mine," he explains. "We've known each other for a while. I can't believe I never noticed he has a fish phobia before tonight, but when I saw how he reacted to the fish we ordered, I immediately thought of you..." He flashes you a little wicked grin. "I should have guessed it before learning about his fish phobia. Kudo Shinichi and he are like two peas in a pot after all."
Out of all people in the world, you had to confide in this person, who can be curiously sensitive and yet indiscreet at the same time, with an uncanny awareness of how far he can go without pushing your button. Even his last line doesn't irk you as much as Kaito's accusation did, perhaps because it was the logical conclusion any bystander would have come to.
"Do you often go out to party all night?" you ask, changing the subject. He didn't seem like a party animal to you when you two first met.
"No, not so often. But I've just been dumped and don't want to sit at home alone, especially at night when I can't torture the drums for fear of disturbing the neighbourhood."
Despite knowing the emotional impact it doubtlessly has on his life, you can't help but marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Basically, he is asking a woman he barely knows for a rendezvous at three a.m. to distract him from thinking of his lamentable love life while the woman he asked has planned to do exactly the same to him.
"How have you been dumped?" you ask, wondering whether his unrequited love was in reality an illicit love affair.
For a moment, his face clouds over with sadness so deep that it tugs at your heart. But then he gives you an unexpected, dazzling smile; and you are suddenly reminded of Akemi-nee-san, who had the same bright smile and carefree attitude and who also smiled at you like that when you saw her for the very last time.
"I was told that people had begun to talk and that we should no longer meet regularly. Now the setting has been changed, and we're going to meet up in cafés or ice cream parlours once in a blue moon, preferably with at least one of her friends as a chaperone... Moreover, it seems they're planning to become a little family. I'd only ruin it for her if this situation continues. But I don't think we should talk about it here where people might overhear us."
"I'm sorry to hear that," you say, helpless at the realization of how little your remark is worth in his hopeless situation.
"Why, you shouldn't be! After the initial shock, I was rather flattered by her fear that our walks endanger her marriage. It means a lot to me."
"That's even more depressing," you sigh, deciding that there is no sense in following convention with a guy like him. "You're treading on the line between optimism and lunacy."
"I'll take it as a compliment." He smiles. "So, if you feel awake enough to stay up all night... Would you mind coming with me?" A mischievous expression flits across his face. "Or shall we continue this balcony scene à la Shakespeare instead, with the part when you tell me that a rose would 'smell as sweet by a different name'?"
He has recited the quote in a soft, husky whisper, his attitude completely molded into that of the young girl in Shakespeare's famous play. Even his voice has become perfectly feminine, possessing a timbre which sounds completely different from the voice he used before and which even in your ears resembles your own. Staring at him in speechless astonishment, you realize that, despite flattering yourself that you wouldn't label him anything, you've pigeonholed him as "the cheeky stranger pining away for a married woman" right after your first meeting. The fact that he has amazing acting skills and can change his voice like Kaito confuses and disturbs you, making you wonder whether behind his carefree and boyish shell a much stronger personality is hiding.
A sudden creak from your landlady's apartment beneath your balcony breaks the stunned silence, and the stranger fixes his gaze at the source of the sound with an alert look. Another creak soon follows, accompanied by muffled sounds of movements, shuffling footsteps, and the familiar rustle of your landlady's crisp taffeta curtain. The stranger takes a cautious step away from the fence; and for a moment, you get the dreaded feeling that he will simply whirl around and disappear.
Much to your relief, he looks up and smiles instead, indicating with an airy gesture that he will be waiting for you under the other cherry tree in the corner of the garden, whispering something like "Come down..."
Retreating silently into the living room, you carefully shut the window and the door to the balcony. As expected, Sleeping Kudo is still stretched out on your sofa in a deep slumber, for once completely oblivious to the things happening around him. A few things about him haven't changed, you note in amusement. When he is really exhausted, one could steal his covers or even the bed or whatever he is lying on without him caring.
Proceeding to the sofa to behold Kudo's sleeping face for the last time, you stand still for what seems like an eternity, wondering whether you're doing the right thing. The peculiar sunset, the accident, Kudo's lateness, and the chance meetings with this charismatic stranger have brought about a few changes to your state of mind which, though still subtle and hard to grasp, are deeply unsettling.
When you come down now, will it be the second or the third time you meet him, you wonder and then decide that it would still be the second—not that it really matters to you. Second or third meeting, magical twilight or no magical twilight, despite Kaito's warning and Kudo's remark that the stranger has told you his version of the ghost story for a particular reason, you're desperate for company who can distract you from the old wound, which was supposed to have healed nicely but is in danger of being opened again.
From Kudo's face, your gaze drifts to the mobile phone, which you've left on the coffee table, as you've grown accustomed to leaving it at home instead of carrying it around. What would he say if he found out that the only souvenir you kept from Pandora's Box is still there, a vivid reminder of the fact that love doesn't conquer all?
... although I'm racked with guilt, the one thing I'm sure of is that I love you...
The pit-a-pat of the rain and the crashing of the waves mingle with his voice at your ear while on the screen of the black box on your lap, the "Delete" button is blinking rapidly, with the timer counting down "seven, six, five, four, three..."
... Despite our differences, can you imagine spending your life with me?... Wait, I hear Hattori coming. I'll be with you in a sec. Just stay there and wait for me.
In your memory, you can see Miyano Shiho hesitating for an instant before she finally taps on the blinking red button. The screen blackens before the deletion is confirmed and the wallpaper reappears: a Greek lady in front of a jar, whose lid is partly opened and out of which evil apparitions are flying...
All right, she replies calmly into the phone even though he has already hung up. Come down.
Perhaps it was a small price for freedom, security, and peace, and he would never have found out if you had not closed the lid of the laptop without noticing that the pendant of your necklace had got caught in there. It was an unbelievable run of bad luck that he had to appear right when you had removed your necklace in order to get the stuck pendant out. Of course one glance at the black box was all he needed to grasp the situation.
I knew there must be another Pandora's Box apart from the cabin, but I didn't expect that you were the one who hid it from me.
You should have thrown the old phone away after it died, drowned in the water which had seeped into the pocket of your jacket when you were washed into the sea that night. Instead, prompted by a masochistic desire to keep the recording without listening to it again, you had the data recovered and copied to both your laptop and your new mobile phone.
It is really so hard for him to guess the reason for your ever-changing moods when he is concerned? After the Professor's funeral, he stayed behind with you to talk, to exchange civilities and even apologies for all the wrong things both of you had done. Just like hurtful words, one friendly remark led to another until your previous friendship was prettily patched up. He was even fair enough to tell you in advance that he would be trying to make everyone happy by turning back time and return the old Shinichi to Ran, and you remember thinking that it was only poetic justice that you would ultimately lose to her what you had taken away from her in the end. However, the reconciliation left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, and you're glad that you've had enough self-control not to listen to the recording again.
You know it was you who ruined it, but you don't know what else you could have done. Wasn't it right to decide that you would rather lose him and keep him alive than have him dead in your arms? Even if he forgave you for the one thing which was the reason for your breakup, he would never be able to forgive you if he knew about the secrets you're still hiding. Unlike the childhood crush between Ran and him, the attachment between Kudo and you was an attraction between incompatible individuals poles apart.
How did he get the idea that you suffered less than him because it was you who betrayed his trust? Betrayal is a double-edged sword, but then in desperate times, one doesn't really have the luxury to choose one's weapon.
You're not the type to wait forever while nurturing foolish hopes. Tonight, sitting with you in your apartment, he might have become sentimental at the prospect of leaving Tokyo. But tomorrow night, he is going to fetch Ran from the train station and forget about you as he always does.
Why should you hold on to the past, you think, especially if, in relation to the present and immediate future, the past no longer has any meaning? What really matters now is how to shake yourself free from its clutch, and leaving him here to go out with a startlingly beautiful stranger at night doesn't appear to you like such a bad start.
Decisively, you slip your phone into the pocket of your cardigan, leave him a note saying you will be back in the morning, put on your sandals, grab your keys, and lock the apartment from the outside.
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A/N: No update last week since the Ritz had a migraine. But lo and behold, this has been the first chapter in which she didn't find any mistake (and we only rephrased a sentence since she thought it would be easier to comprehend that way). *happy dance
furr: Thank you a lot for the review. :)