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.
FS
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Ghost at Twilight
(edited version)
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It's not like I've never...
It's not like I've never heard of them before, these improbable and eerie stories about two people getting struck by love at first (or second or third) sight and planning to stay with each other for life without caring the least about the sheer insurmountable difficulty of the task. But the protagonists of those stories have always struck me as being somewhat undiscriminating in the choice of the object of their so-called "love". And if anyone had asked me whether I could imagine the same thing happening to me at any time of my life, I would have replied with conviction that, no, Miyano Shiho is not reckless enough to dash headlong into heartbreak and not foolish enough to contemplate building a future with a person she doesn't know!
Yet here I am, utterly miserable and racked with regret after leaving a man I would undoubtedly have spent my life with if it hadn't been for his and my past. Contrary to my expectations, the thought that ending it after one night precludes the agony of having it crashing down on us after four or five years of cohabitation is no consolation to me at all now that I've broken it up. Accepting Kudo's water glass and APAH capsules with the resignation of a drug addict who has given up on therapy, I try to think of a sensible solution of what to do about the key in my pocket. Keep it, throw it away, send it back to him per post, go back to his apartment and shove the key under his doormat, ring him out of his apartment under the pretense of returning the key and kiss him again...
The obnoxious ringing of my doorbell startles me out of my hopeless contemplations, and it takes me a moment to deduce that my landlady must be trying to return the scissors she has borrowed in her sneaky attempt to get a good look at my overnight visitor.
"Your landlady," Kudo points out the obvious and asks when he notices my reluctance, "Don't you want your scissors back?"
"I don't want to listen to her ramblings right now. Just let her ring. She will think that we've gone out."
"She could wait downstairs and waylay us when we go out for lunch," Kudo predicts. "I think it's better to open the door for her and get over it now than to run into her later."
He is right, as always, and I grudgingly relent even though I still refuse to see my landlady.
"Since you've given her my scissors, you open the door for her. Just tell her I'm having a migraine and have gone to bed." I proceed to devour the APAH capsules in my hands while Kudo stalks to the door with the air of an exhausted husband who has been disturbed by the same door-to-door sales person for the third time in a row. From the living room, I can hear my landlady chirping about how thankful she is that Kudo has lent her my scissors because she had misplaced hers. But just when I believe that she has left after Kudo's "It doesn't matter" and "Have a nice day", she lets out an indignant, earsplitting howl, which makes me jump.
"How could you put such a gorgeous lavender rose into a normal water glass?" She gasps, leaping towards the bar to admire my rose while Kudo, who is now standing behind my armchair, gives me a faintly amused grin.
"The vases are all in the closet so that they don't gather dust," he taunts, whereupon I fight the unhealthy urge to strangle him in front of a witness by flashing him a sickeningly sweet smile.
"What a shame because you have an absolutely wonderful specimen here, as blue as a rose can be without a dye!" My landlady bubbles over with excitement. "It's even in the same shade of lavender as the colour of your dress." With a sidelong glance at Kudo, she mutters under her breath, "Your boyfriend is very attentive and romantic. It's extremely rare these days now that all the young people have become so jaded and cynical."
Young people have such a jaundiced view of life and relationships these days, she suddenly breaks into a rant. It must be the sheltered life and the success and the money. Without hardships, they take all the things they have for granted and quibble about trifles like spoiled little kids. Life, she asserts forcefully, is only worth something when you have nothing and need to fight for it!
Wondering whether she has ever had to fight for her life, I quickly take the scissors out of her hand for fear that, if she stays any longer, she might get the idea of making herself comfortable on my sofa. While I don't mind chatting with her from time to time and even find her quite amiable on normal days, today her presence alone is enough to make my blood boil.
"Where have you found it?" she turns to Kudo with her fingers still resting on the stem of my rose. If it had leaned more towards purple instead of blue—she continues without waiting for an answer—she would have wondered why he had given me a lavender rose although we two have already been going out with each other "for, uh, how long by now? Almost two years?"
Owing to my usual secretiveness about my love life (I've been rather vague whenever she asked me how the charming young man she once found on my sofa was doing) she has mistaken Kudo for Kaito and believes that we two had never broken up during the past two years. For a split second, I can see on Kudo's face that he wisely considers leaving her in the mistaken belief that he is my longtime boyfriend and that he has bought me the flower. But then his innate curiosity triumphs over his (usually non-existent) sense of tact.
"It's not from me but from another man she is dating at the moment," he tells her in misplaced honesty. "But what does a lavender rose mean?"
Lavender roses, especially pale lavender roses, are usually given to a love interest before or at the beginning of a romantic relationship as an expression of enchantment and love at first sight, she explains, darting puzzled glances at Kudo and me alternately. However, since this special flower is of a very blue shade, one could interpret it as a symbol of the mysterious and the unattainable.
But "unattainable" has a connotation of finality I can't accept, I realize in dismay. It's almost as though time had rewound so that I'm sitting at the window of the small café once again, watching the restaurant on the other side of the street where Ran is waiting for her long-distance boyfriend, who, after three years, had finally returned to her.
"At least he is right in that aspect. The way your brain operates is an unsolvable mystery to me," Kudo wryly remarks, whereupon my landlady beams at me with delight because she has mistaken it for a declaration of love.
"Your boyfriend has a very peculiar sense of humour," she whispers into my ear as she leaves. "But it's impossible to be angry at a man who is that good-looking, isn't it? He almost looks like Kudo Shinichi, the famous detective."
"How did you open the door for her this morning?" I grimly ask Kudo after shutting the door behind her. After all, I had locked the door from the outside when I left.
"Tools," he curtly replies, indicating his jacket with a sidelong glance. "I can open your lock within less than ten seconds. You really need to have it replaced with a better one."
"Why should I? It's only a question of time until you crack open the new one as well."
Studying his face to evaluate whether my landlady's effusive praise is justified, I notice for the first time since my return that he has shaved (apparently he even carries a razor in his jacket!) and is looking radiant, especially compared to yesterday.
"My sofa seems to do you good," I observe. "If it weren't so clunky, I'd have considered giving it to your Ran-nee-chan and you as a parting present."
He doesn't answer but only throws me another dark look before he aimlessly walks around and picks up random things (the water bottle, the glass with the rose, the tissue box on the table) just to put them down again seconds later.
"You're making me nervous with all that fidgeting," I remark. "Let's have breakfast instead."
"Did you... spend the night with him?" he asks me out of the blue, shocking me with his indiscretion and his ill-timed bluntness. He also appears exhausted again as if asking me that one question has completely drained his energy.
"Only the second part of it." I calmly take a sip of my water and jokingly add in an attempt to lighten the mood, "The first part of it I spent with you until you fell asleep. Do you remember it now?"
"You know exactly what I mean," he obstinately insists, stopping at the sofa to fix his intent gaze inquiringly on me. Noticing that his insatiable curiosity is a pest I can't avoid by being evasive because I would only fuel it, I decide to chide him for it instead: Yes, but it really doesn't have anything to do with you. As I said, I'm perfectly fine with it. Even if you're bored, don't turn this into a case unless you want me to tell your pretty karate champion that you almost cheated on her with me once. She will break every single bone in your body before you can count to ten...
To my bewilderment, I can talk about our history with ease now that I'm too preoccupied with another equally disastrous love to fret about our past. Closing the distance between us, Kudo silently takes a few strands of my hair into his hand while his eyes are glued to my lips with an intensity I find most unsettling.
"You said I've misunderstood because it's not a one-night stand gone wrong... So you actually meant you're going to continue seeing him?" He abruptly lets go of my hair and turns his attention to the gyoza. "Did he tell you to bring me breakfast? Or is the food from Taiki?" While he is trying to keep his voice down, he looks like he is going to break into hysterical laughter at any moment.
"What's so funny about that?" I testily ask, hurt by his open contempt. "It's not like he only wanted to hook up for a night to kill time. Even if you can't believe it, we're actually serious about each other!" Realizing that telling Kudo our relationship is already over would greatly complicate matters because I can't tell him the reasons, I prefer to leave him in the belief that Seiya and I are still going out with each other until he leaves for Osaka.
"You're usually prudent and prefer to take things slow," Kudo coolly remarks, walks over to the bar, settles on the bar stool directly in front of the rose, and gazes down on me in disapproval. "This... carpe diem mentality... doesn't suit you at all. He is a disastrous influence on you."
Due to my usual reticence and his own naiveté, Kudo seems to have a rather docile mental image of me, which I have to destroy because I'm sick of comparing myself to the pure and chaste ideal of a woman he has grown up with. "Don't you know that our society still wants all women to be perfect angels so that they can be conquered by their great and irresistible husbands in their wedding night?" I remember lecturing Seiya when he asked me in stupefaction why I refused to meet his foster brothers. In response (and much to my delight), he only chuckled and told me between two kisses that he had finally realized why people indulged in extramarital affairs because no one in their right mind could really enjoy making love to a cold angel.
"On the contrary, it seems I'm a disastrous influence on him." I smile at the remembrance. "But since it wasn't with no strings attached, I'm positive he didn't mind it a bit!"
"Even with strings attached, I don't think this is a good idea." Kudo slowly shakes his head. "You two don't have anything in common. This will never work out!"
For a moment, I'm speechless.
"Why are you trying to talk me out of it?" I leap from my armchair and angrily occupy the bar stool next to him. "Not everyone can start as childhood friends and needs to rip off flower petals for over ten years to know that their feelings are real." Placing my water glass beside my flower, I mournfully watch the distorted reflection of the lavender petals in the water and the light delicately refracted by the blue-tinted glass. "This is the first time in years that I've felt a real connection to somebody..." My voice dies out, and I stop because I don't want to continue rubbing salt into my own wounds.
"He is not for you!" Kudo firmly insists. "I'm only telling you my honest opinion because I'm worried. Didn't you tell me you wanted a perfectly normal nice husband? He is the complete opposite."
"I can remember you were the one who said that it would be dull and that such a husband would bore me to death." I take a new glass for him out of the cupboard, as he has just poured himself water into my glass again. Throwing a puzzled glance at his gloomy face, I jokingly add, "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you look really heartbroken over this. Don't you think that throwing a tantrum just because I've left you alone for a few hours makes you look like a spoiled kid?" I'm not aware of having done anything wrong. After all, I did come back in time for the tests, I did leave him a note, and I did take my phone with me so that he could reach me.
Since he only stares into his empty glass and doesn't react, I decide to take it up a notch to lure him out of his reserve. "Or are you a bit jealous because I just got myself a new boyfriend without warning you beforehand?" I ask, preparing myself to say, "Just kidding!" the moment he begins to stutter a reply.
"A little bit," he says to my astonishment, as this was the last answer I'd have expected to hear from him, "but not really." He turns to me, crosses his legs, and begins to bounce his upper leg with his usual exasperating confidence. "After all... Isn't this the same as last time? You either stand me up or get yourself a new boyfriend every time we meet. One could almost think it has something to do with me, as silly as it sounds." Pushing the glass with the rose between us aside, he softly asks me with a straightforwardness which, if it hadn't been for the hint of sadness in his voice, would have bordered on impertinence, "Am I right?"
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Irrational as it sounds, it seems to me that Kudo is dead right and that everything which happened since last night is connected to him because I would never have gone out with a stranger at night and broken up a relationship after a few hours if it hadn't been for Kudo and his influence on me. But since the theory is too depressing to be dwelled on any further, I push it away from me and turn my attention to the other thought which is now uppermost in my mind.
"It's not the same as last time," I begin, wondering how to explain to Kudo that "this time" doesn't in the least feel like "that time" to me.
"No?" Kudo glumly pokes at the half-unwrapped gyoza box. "Last time it was Kuroba and this time it's the same type of guy again. You have a certain weakness for men who are absolutely no husband material."
Perplexed but somewhat pleasantly surprised by his talkativeness, I recall that he seemed strangely happy after seven hours of sleep and that, even though he is in a rotten mood at present, he is much more open and accessible than he was yesterday.
"Why were you in such a good mood this morning?" I ask him with mistrust, knowing he is not a morning person. "Is it only because you're well rested? Or did you have a particularly pleasant dream last night?"
"I've come to terms with Osaka." He smiles. He wanted to tell me about it when I came home.
Despite myself, it is hard for me focus on his words because it has just struck me why "this time" is not like "last time" at all...
"Fine," I distractedly comment. "Your Ran-nee-chan will be thrilled when she learns about it tonight. After all, she wouldn't be able to enjoy herself in Osaka if she felt that you didn't really want to go with her."
...Last time was like a short pleasant fantasy which couldn't last, but no matter how charming and lovable Kaito was, losing him didn't feel like having my whole world crashing down on me. In spite of all the magic tricks and romantic dates in zoos and parks and cuddling on the sofa and kissing under the moonlight, there were no excessively sentimental feelings or dramatic breakdowns after it ended. I wasn't haunted by the way how he touched my cheek or how his eyes slowly opened to look at me, unfocused until the first flicker of recognition stole into them and he gave me his perfectly blissful smile assuring me that, for someone in this world, I could be a source of happiness instead of pain.
She has the aura of an unlucky charm—Yaten-san has claimed. It's natural that she thinks she loves you since all depressed people are drawn to you like the moth to the flame. They all try to throw themselves at you and live off you like bloodsucking vampires. And when they're done they'll throw you away as if you had never been more than a nice shiny toy for them. It was almost the same with Chiba-san, wasn't it, with the only difference that she wasn't such a loose girl? She literally fell into your arms because she was neglected by her clueless boyfriend. But when her beloved "Mamo-chan" returned from Oxford, she simply dumped you and ran back into his arms again.
"Concerning our previous topic, this time is not like the last time at all," I tell Kudo in a conspiratorial voice. "He is the only man I've ever allowed to iron my dress." The remark which was supposed to be a joke sounds shockingly candid to my own ears, and Kudo gives me a blank look asking me to elaborate on the reasons as to why I let Seiya iron my favourite dress although I've always been fastidious even when I was posing as the Professor's little girl.
"Well..." In answer to Kudo's silent question, I helplessly grope for words. "I don't know why but he stirs all these... emotions... in me."
I trail off, shuddering at the ruthless honesty in my voice. If I hadn't wept so much after my return that my tears have completely dried up, I would go to bed and continue to cry about this disproportionate revenge of fate, which has come so late that it might as well have come from that person himself, whom even Gin—his most loyal crow—had described as petty and spiteful.
"You can't imagine how scary such a confession sounds when it comes from your mouth!" Kudo leaves the bar, sinks into my armchair, and drops his head into the cup of his hands. If he weren't so motionless, I would think that he were laughing about the situation.
"This is even worse than I've thought," he sighs instead, keeping his palms over his eyes so that I can't guess whether he is on the brink of laughter or whether he is just fighting his migraine. "You're completely out of your mind. Let's calm down a bit and assess the situation before you slip into a serious relationship with a guy like him."
"A guy like him? He's perfectly decent and harmless. It's not like he has forced me into anything."
"You've just met him, Ai!" Kudo looks up to shoot me an irritated look from his bloodshot eyes.
"So what?" I burst out before I notice to my amusement that he has accidentally called me Ai again. "Even I succumb to these nasty neurotransmitters once in a while. Don't pretend that you were less ridiculous when you were moaning about the permanent antidote so that you could properly declare your undying love to your angel in that posh restaurant without having to crane your neck to see her reaction."
"I've known Ran for all my life while you've known him for a few hours," he coldly retorts. "One can't really have anything which could even be called 'a relationship' in such a short time."
"That type of 'relationship' needs to start at some point." I shrug. "It's not like we wanted to stare into each other's eyes forever before making a move. The older one gets, the faster things happen."
"Not at this speed if you try to look at it from a more sensible point of view. You only don't see how rushed this is because you're completely besotted. He should have taken it slow as well, but considering his reputation, it's—"
"Stop being such a prig!"
Seeing Kudo's crestfallen face as he laconically mutters an apology, my anger subsides, and I walk to him to curl up on the sofa so that we're now sitting with each other in stony silence, lost in thought until he gets up and fetches us the water bottle and our glasses from the bar.
"Maybe I'm only paranoid because of all the scandals I've heard," Kudo gives my arm a conciliatory pat before he sits down next to me. "But one usually doesn't get that kind of reputation without a reason." In a more cheerful tone, he adds as an afterthought, "I can look into it for you if you want. Let's find out whether he is really so clueless and harmless as you think or whether he has been lying to you all along."
"Even if he had been lying about it, his reputation or past affairs would be the last things I care about at the moment." I give a desperate chuckle, wondering when my nerves are going to fail me completely. Perhaps there is a grain of truth in the accepted notion that, once you've cracked up completely and given up on your life, you will repeatedly crack up again during times when the sheer act of being alive seems too much of an ordeal. I can still remember the first time it happened, when I read the newspaper article featuring the outcome of the "One Billion Yen Robbery" over and over again and the truth slowly dawned on me that, in this world, there is nothing which justifies the compulsion to be nice and good. History is written by survivals. Justice is a human construct. Morality is a fancy thing for the people who can afford it. The rules of the game are always made by the ones who have won and not the ones who have lost. And when success and "the community" are the only things which count, no one really cares about "collateral damage" that got trampled on...
"You know, I would never have expected you to cry because of a man." Kudo's voice takes on an edge of suspicion, and I can feel myself stiffen under his searching gaze.
"Love brings out our most sentimental and vulnerable side." I give him a playful smirk. "At least it seems to bring out mine."
"I don't know what your notion of love is." He knits his brows. "But I've seldom seen you so unhappy. Do you want to tell me what really happened?"
Naturally, I don't want to. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know where to start.
"Nothing happened except that I can't stand Shortie and Stick and they openly despise me. Apart from that, he is going to return to the stage soon. I'm sure I will hate his friends, I will hate his fans, I will hate his job, and I bet I will hate his agent as well although I haven't met her yet. From what I've heard of her, I think she will hate me just as much as Shortie does. They're all passionately in love with him and fiercely jealous of me..."
Unleashing a torrent of rants on Kudo's sympathetic ears, I try to remember all the lame excuses I've conjured up for myself in an effort to lessen my regrets à la "The Fox and the Grapes" when I broke up a perfectly functional relationship because I'm convinced that what we've gone through in the past teaches us about what we can anticipate in the future. But was it really right to leave him for the sake of keeping the memories of last night intact? Or should I have stayed because, if I hadn't been a coward and hadn't feared the day his love will turn into hatred so much that I bailed, it could have worked out between us?
"See, you can't even imagine how a life with him will be," Kudo tentatively starts.
"Oh, but I can imagine it perfectly. I'm going to elope with him to some stereotyped city of love, Paris or Venice or Rome or even better: to some isle where no one... well, no one apart from you, Sherlock... will ever find us."
"Paris?" Kudo sharply asks.
"No, maybe not Paris," I admit with a twinge of guilt, avoiding his disbelieving gaze, whose underlying despair confuses me. Certainly not Venice either, I mentally add. But where is the place where no phone call and no mail will ever be able to inform Seiya about his girlfriend's past? And even if it were possible to flee from his friends and acquaintances, it would still be impossible for me to flee from myself. Breaking it up was undoubtedly the most sensible decision under these circumstances, but doing "the right thing" once again turned out to be unbearable.
There is no excuse for not doing the right thing, Kudo once said in Paris, leaning against the railing of the moonlit veranda after our hilarious attempt at dancing. There are always sacrifices one needs to make and risks one needs to take to achieve one's goals. But from a moral point of view, it's of primary importance that the people who risk their lives are doing it of their own accord. I can risk my life but not yours. If you're not sure that coming with Hattori and me is really what you want, please give me the key and stay with the Professor in Tokyo.
But what would you do if doing the morally "wrong" thing would produce the outcome you want while doing the morally "right" thing would ruin your life and the people close to you, Kaioh-san has asked you after you refused her offer to get you and your sister out of the Organization in exchange for Pandora's Box. In certain circumstances, there is no other way out. So, what are you going to choose when the price for achieving your goals is guilt while the price for choosing the morally right path is sorrow?
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