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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There are certain rules…
There are certain rules a woman should always obey: Don't meet up with an ex-boyfriend you still love, don't make out with him whether in private or in public, and don't ever take him to your place for "dinner" unless you want to plunge headlong into the very plight you've struggled hard to escape from. And while you are prone to break all the rules you've learned in Seiya's presence, Fortuna, who has taken pity on you, supports you for once when she creates circumstances which makes breaking the last rule impossible.
Your fridge is empty, you still have to withdraw cash before you can go to the grocery store, and you can't fetch your card in time because he will be on the way to the airport by the time you arrive home—you tell your ex-boyfriend, who has proven to be a curse you can't shake off. Hence you will have to postpone your dinner date until he returns from New York and Hollywood or simply make do without his forgiveness, which is, after due consideration, the more pragmatic solution.
Meanwhile, stranger-san has lit his cigarette and is now smoking it with a faint half-smile. He gives you a sharp, thoughtful glance when you mention Hollywood and New York, and it occurs to you for the first time that this is the face he usually shows his acquaintances and fans and that he was honest when he told you that he doesn't flirt with strangers as a rule.
"We'll have to skip dinner, then," he winks and gives you another kiss which leaves no doubt about his intentions for the evening, but he doesn't seem inclined to talk about his imminent departure. Last night was special, a unique opportunity for both of you to open up. Now that you've destroyed the rapport, he has retreated into his shell.
"Dream on!" You smirk, hurt by his cool, flippant demeanour. "Why don't you call one of your fans who are standing in line at Two Lights' just to make your acquaintance? One-night stands aren't supposed to last for longer than one night. As far as I'm concerned, our time with each other is over!"
For an instant, his face falls, and he turns away from you as if he were trying to conceal his pain. Bewildered, you extend a hand to stroke his ruffled hair, which is flying in the rising wind. But when he turns round, he only shrugs, flashing you a serene smile from melancholic eyes before he resumes smoking to show you that he doesn't care much.
"You're cold and hard-hearted as always," he dramatically sighs. "Kuroba has been right about you all along."
Distracted by the thought that you may be mistaken about Seiya and have done him wrong—the sorrow in his eyes seems so great and real that you no longer know what to believe—you need to focus for a second to get what his remark implies.
"You've told Kaito…" You grab his elbow and stop dead in your track, unable to form a coherent sentence in your dismay. This morning, Seiya seemed so considerate and decent that you'd never have expected him to be the type that kisses and tell. And it staggers you that you haven't even once considered the damaging consequences of your impulsive actions.
"Since he had to return a book to Taiki, we ran into each other in the studio and he asked me why I looked so burned out. I only told him that I've fallen in love with his ex-girlfriend and that he shouldn't take it personally." He laughs and throws you a mocking sidelong glance as he resumes walking. "I told him that we went on a date and that you spent the night with me but dumped me directly afterwards…" He swings around to poke at your cheek. "What's with that look on your face? Of course I didn't tell him anything about last night! You really have trust issues, you know?"
"And what did he say?" Ensnared in his trap, you wonder whether he has really said that he loves you or whether you've misheard it because he seems completely oblivious to his choice of word.
"He said that, in all the nights he had to spend on your extremely uncomfortable sofa—" His lips stretch into an amused grin, "—I don't know whether he mentioned the sofa to hide the nature of your relationship or whether it was such an unpleasant experience that it's still haunting him after two years—he had to wake you up from your nightmares four to five times a night and that you mistook him for Kudo every time. You'd hold him and kiss him like you never did during the day and apologize—and then you'd fall asleep and forget about it while he wondered what he had done to deserve such a crappy treatment from you. After two weeks, Kudo asked him why he had disguised himself as Kudo to ask you out, claiming that it wasn't fair to either Kudo or you… You must know that Kuroba didn't have a clue about that proposal gone wrong at Pandora's Box. When he learned about it from Kudo, he naturally thought that you'd been using him as Kudo's substitute because you didn't get the original."
"I didn't use him as Kudo's substitute!" you snap, tired of having to defend yourself for a second time. "Although they look like twins, they're so different from each other that even Kudo and you have more in common."
He gives you a skeptical look before he absently smiles at a pretty brunette in the vicinity, who blushes and pales in response. Furious by his tendency to return other women's inviting smiles as though it were common decency, you move nearer, slow down, and 'accidentally' stomp on his foot with your heel.
"Really? I suppose I can take it as a compliment." Although he winces in pain, he takes your abuse in his stride. "Anyhow… Since Kuroba's pride didn't allow him to go through the drama of confessing to you that he didn't feel loved, he invented a story about Aoko-chan's letters and left so that Kudo and you could sort out your problems after he was out of the picture."
Stopping in front of the same red azalea shrub he admired yesterday evening, he gives your head a few reassuring pats and resumes smoking while you only gaze at the swirl of smoke in silence, lost in your muddled feelings about Kaito's selfless but moronic actions.
"So, in short: Kuroba did love you but he loved his ego more!" He cheerily concludes. "He told me that being with you was like battling Kudo's ghost every night. He wouldn't wish it on his most hated rival."
"How nice of him!" You roll your eyes. "He must love you very much to warn you about me."
"Nonsense! Kuroba doesn't want me to succeed because he didn't! He is the possessive type that gets jealous even after a relationship is over." Flashing you a wry smile, he puts out his cigarette on a trash bin. "In that respect, you two are alike… You don't want to be with me—but you can't stand the thought of me being with another woman either."
He tosses the cigarette stump into the trash bin with another graceful flick of his wrist, and you realize in bewilderment that you don't mind the smoke when you are with him. Along varying degrees of closeness and distance, he has healed you from your old wounds and inflicted new injuries on you in the process—but when all is said and done, you're glad that he has changed your perception of the world. Although he is an unscrupulous heartbreaker and loner who can't really commit, it's hard for you to condemn him.
"I don't care about all your affairs! I only think that leading on so many women isn't a very nice way of life, that's all!" You eye his beautiful profile with studied nonchalance, fighting another stab of jealousy when you picture him with another lover. "The cherry wish tree at Hikawa Shrine will die if you continue to rack up broken hearts like that. Hino-san says that three-quarters of the paper wishes on its branches belong to the women you've dumped."
"You were at Hikawa Shrine?" He blinks at you in surprise before he puts two and two together. "That's why you know about New York! Have you talked to Taiki and Yaten?"
"Only to Taiki-san, luckily. Your silver-haired monster would have torn me into tiny shreds if he hadn't been asleep."
Hesitantly, almost involuntarily, you give him a brief account of your encounter with his friends, omitting Hino Rei's affection for him since you don't want him to turn to her for consolation in his heartache. The wind around you has become cold and harsh, rustling the trees and giving you goosebumps. When you rub your naked arms and ponder the problem of how to explain to him that you've forgotten your cardigan at his place without looking pathetic, he wordlessly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders.
"What's with you men and your leather jackets?" You pat his bulging pockets in disbelief. "Your pockets are just as heavy as Kudo's!"
Men usually don't carry handbags like most women do and therefore have to keep all the things they need in their pockets, he retorts as he tucks his ponytail into his frilly shirt, which you chose for him this morning. Admittedly, he is carrying more stuff around than he did last night. "Post-its, notebooks, pen—I'd have given you my number if I hadn't left them home yesterday."
A music notebook, a pen, two pencils, an eraser, paper tissues, a large handkerchief, a tiny box of peppermint, two mobile phones, headphones, keys, a wallet, two pocket-sized screenplays for his next roles, a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, a multi-function pocket knife, sunglasses… He even keeps two mini make-up sets, make-up removers, a comb, two shawls, a cap, and two wigs in his pockets so that he can change his disguise at any time.
"What's this?" You coolly ask, studying the round, feminine handwriting on the pink piece of post-it you've fished out of his pocket.
"A phone number," he evasively says.
"Do you need it?"
He silently shakes his head, and you ceremoniously rip the note into four squares, which you crumple up with immense satisfaction before you toss them into the trash bin.
"Sorry, but I can't resist decluttering!"
In response, he beams, laughs with delight, and pulls you into another kiss, which you return after a moment of hesitation. Despite his ability to hurt you and annoy you to no end, he feels like a paradise which you've known and lost and which you can't resist to explore over and over again.
"Do you know that you're quite impertinent? Now that I'm thinking of it, we aren't together anymore and you haven't even—"
He shuts you up with another kiss and runs his fingers through your hair, deepening the kiss when you part your lips. Once again you notice that he prefers nonverbal forms of communication to words, and it's of great consolation to you that his touch is still warm and loving despite his cool act.
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"Why do you smoke when it can ruin your voice?" you ask after you two have resumed walking. He didn't smell of smoke last night so that you're surprised to discover that he is actually a smoker.
He usually doesn't smoke and only does it to get into a role, he tells you. "For Sherlock Holmes, I'll have to smoke cigarettes as well as pipes. I need to get accustomed to both so that I won't mess up and look like an amateur on the set." Since he always quits smoking after wrapping up the last scenes for a film, his voice doesn't really suffer.
"I hate smoke!" you remark, and sigh when you realize that your voice sounds more bitter than intended. "Gin used to chain-smoke in our apartment and never cleaned up… I might as well have kissed an ashtray!"
After offering you a mint and taking one because you shouldn't go through the agony of kissing a smoker again, he shows you his silver lighter, on which "Igarashi Shizuka" is engraved. The lighter, the box of peppermint, and the cigarettes actually belong to his agent—Shizuka-san, the dark woman he was talking to before he caught you stalking him.
"Your agent?" On second thought, the snippets you've overheard of their quarrel begins to make sense. "It's interesting that she kisses you and calls you 'darling'… Also, I didn't expect her to be such a striking, young woman."
"She is very good-looking," he indifferently agrees and flashes you a wicked smirk. "And I bet she will look the same in thirty years since I've never seen her without make-up." Regarding the kiss you saw: Shizuka-san, who calls all of her protégés "darling", has grown up in France like Taiki, Yaten, and him, and kisses all of her friends and even her acquaintances as a greeting.
While you're skeptical about Seiya's claim that she doesn't harbour any romantic feelings for him, you give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since you know that theatre people are much more physical than the average person.
He smiles when you bump against him in an attempt to evade a particularly klutzy man, and offers you his arm again like he did last night. It's a conciliatory gesture, which weighs more than his no-strings-attached kisses. He seems to have forgiven you for the way you left him although he can't really trust you yet.
"Why have you two been fighting?" You squeeze his arm. "Did she announce your comeback without your consent?" Although you try not to sound desperate, your voice has taken on a will of its own.
"I said I'd consider reviving Three Lights and accept the roles if she changed the date of our comeback to July instead of December," he admits. "But I didn't expect her to go ahead and tell the press about it before I'm absolutely sure."
After eavesdropping on his conversation with "Shizuka-san", you've begun to nurture the hope that Seiya will decline the movie offers to stay in Japan. You've secretly entertained the illusion that he will be trying to remain in your vicinity because he has fallen in love. But while parts of your deductions seem to have been right, it's impossible for you to foresee his actions and guess what he is thinking. In contrast to Kudo, who is straightforward and dependable and whom you can read like an open book, stranger-san is a mystery you doubt you will ever solve no matter how hard you try.
"Aren't you feeling cold?" You notice with a pang of conscience that he has just taken a red shawl out of a pocket of his jacket, which you're now wearing, and is now wrapping it around his neck. He looks tired and much paler than when you two first met, and you wonder whether he is going to be sick.
He doesn't mind the cold since he likes the cool weather—he brushes your concern aside and wraps his second shawl around your neck with a teasing smirk. He is only trying to hide his face in case the paparazzi get the idea to look for him in Ueno-koen.
Ignoring the fact that he should be returning to his apartment to pack his luggage, you two stroll along in the evening's last light, stopping at random picturesque spots to kiss although neither he nor you try to verbally redefine your relationship. There is the universally accepted notion that it is wise and grand to accept tragedy with grace and move on, but now you doubt that the grandeur of upholding one's honour is worth the sacrifice. You can suddenly imagine Seiya and you drifting around the world for years, maintaining this indefinable entanglement with ease. As long as he and you keep this relationship secret, it could last forever.
He buys both of you okonomiyaki, tea, and sakura mochi at a food stall, and you two end up holding hands after "dinner". In front of Benten-do, which you've passed for the second time and which is now illuminated by strings of green and golden lights, the thought of inviting him into your apartment and keeping him there for the night or at least until he misses his flight to New York flashes through your mind. But then you recall the cherry wish tree at Hikawa Shrine and scrap the idea out of hurt pride.
"Can you tell me what time it is?" A stylish, tall blonde lady in beige approaches Seiya with an alluring smile. "I'm waiting for two friends who're supposed to meet up with me at half past six for yozakura." With a flamboyant gesture of her arm, she directs your attention to the glowing lanterns on the cherry trees, the full moon, and the starry night. "The sun has already gone down but they haven't come yet…"
His grasp on your hand tightens as if he can feel your mounting anxiety.
"I'm not wearing a watch, sorry."
Following an irrational urge to conceal your watch from her, him, and yourself, you quickly hide your wrist in his pocket when she turns to you with an artificial smile on her lips. "But the sun is still above the horizon," you coolly tell her. "Your friends still have a few minutes."
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