Warning: Mentions of death, child negligence, depression, and implied suicide idealization.
Ch. 2.5 Interlude from the Past
Father was different when mother was still alive.
Father was always a hard worker. He was always dedicated to his job at the force, spending much of his time at the precinct. It was just in his nature to be a workaholic. He was a highly ethical man who wanted to make the world a better place, bringing peace and justice to a chaotic world. This desire only grew after finding people he loved and cared for.
Despite the demand of the job and his nature, he always made time for his two special girls. He would drag himself back to the house in the early morning hours after a night spent trying and failing to apprehend a white cladded thief, just so he could have breakfast with mother and Aoko, fully knowing he would have to return to the office to write up a follow up report over the heist and come up with other preventative measures and tactics to catch the thief.
She remembers how tired he looked, half falling asleep with his head bobbing and eyelids heavy as his sunken eye bags. But despite this, he would always have a warm loving smile as he looked at his wife and Aoko, laughing at whatever comment her mother made or fondly gazing at Aoko as she ate her food with gusto.
He tried to be a good husband and father; attentive, loving, and present.
But all this was stripped away when mother died.
The day she lost her mother, she had also lost her father.
The man who kept his head held high, overcoming any hardship and failure with a laugh, whose love was so vibrant and giving became cold, reserved, and empty. His smiles that always reached his eyes were gone and were replaced with fake plasticity that well reflected his dead vacant gaze. The fierce and fiery passion he had radiated, had cooled and disappeared leaving only an abyss in its wake.
The change in her father terrified Aoko.
It had forced her to put her grief aside to support and care for her father as he drowned on his own loss.
She had to become his strength in his time of crisis. She couldn't allow herself to be feeble and succumb to her feelings of sorrow. She had to hold on, not only for her father's sake but for her own as well. For she feared who she'd become after losing the only other person in her life that she loved and cherished.
The only times where she had solace to process her inner turmoil were before retiring for the night. Silent cries staining her puffy eyes and screams of frustration and anger clawing at her throat, begging to be released only to die as desperate gasps of air were inhaled instead in attempts to stifle them. Most nights, Aoko passed out due to mental fatigue or when she couldn't calm down enough to breathe properly and hyperventilated. By the time she woke, she acted like nothing happened and continued to fret over her father's despondent figure.
She had, for the most part, handled the arrangements for the wake and funeral. Her father's colleagues had on more than one occasion dropped by to offer their condolences and help, which Aoko had dismissed at the beginning, latching on to the need to keep busy to forgo thinking entirely. She had only accepted their help when it came to matters that a child couldn't handle on their own. She wasn't sure if her father's colleagues knew of the fact that she was handling everything on her own without father's help, but they never brought it up in conversation, so she dismissed the thought, concluding that they hadn't noticed.
The conclusion came to be apparent after everything was taken care of and they would drop in for visits to check on her father and herself, as they were on leave from work and school, respectively. It was during these visitations in which her father would slip on his mask and act as normally as a grieving person could. Small talk and slight banter were heard throughout the house, almost revitalizing the weary atmosphere into something Aoko could almost delude herself as familiar as the time before the incident, but she knew that was wrong. It wasn't like before. It was different and unrecognizable. It was a poor imitation of normalcy. Fake laughter. Fake smiles. Fake confirmations of doing and being better.
And her father's colleagues were blinded and deafen from the woven lies that her father spewed, ignoring the signs that pointed to depression, believing the words of a dying man.
She both hated and welcomed their visits. Despite lies that befell her father's mouth, she craved hearing him talk, something he had stopped doing since that day. It was a refreshing breather from the suffocating heavy silence that loomed over the once lively household. She looked forward to her visitations for only this, and hated when they left, leaving only a raw loneliness as everything snapped back into place and silence reigned once more.
Her father was either a fantastic actor or her father's colleagues were fools.
But how would they know about how far gone her father was? It wasn't like they saw what she did.
The vacant look in his unfocused eyes as he stared at the blank wall for hours without moving a muscle.
The untouched food she tried making despite never being in the kitchen, was left on the dining table until she had to clean up.
The way he stopped caring about personal hygiene and only cleaned up when he learned of his colleagues' visitation.
The way he had ignored her existence entirely, never responding to any of her words, much less glanced in her direction as her visage reminded him too much of his now late beloved spouse.
They never saw the way he would at times spend hours gazing at his gun in silent contemplation.
No, they didn't see what Aoko had, but she wished they would.
There was only so much a six-year-old child could do.
And despite her best efforts in keeping him alive and sane, she knew she was losing him.
Her father's mind and spirit were broken, and she anticipated the day she would find him unresponsive and go from this world.
.
.
.
.
Things changed one day.
Aoko grew to feel restless over the suffocating silence and instead of occupying her time with doing something with her hands, she turned on the television, desperate to fill the house with noise.
As the TV came to life and the voices of the news reporters bled through, Aoko sat back next to her father on the couch. She didn't bother changing the channel because there was nothing she wanted to watch anyways.
She quickly went into a blank state of mind much like one does when watching infomercials, as she was uninterested in what was being said, although she vaguely noted two incidents in the back of her mind. A string of kidnappings in the Kanto region and a double homicide in the next town over.
She zoned out for most of the reports, content with just having it as white noise in the background, at least until she heard two words that made her blood run cold and had snapped her full attention to what the newscasters were saying.
Kaito Kid.
It was another heist.
The first after the incident eleven weeks ago. (11 weeks, 5 days, 17 hours, 43 minutes to be exact. It was hard not to count the passage of time of the night that ruined her life after all.)
The report mentioned how a millionaire entrepreneur had received a calling card two days ago, proclaiming that his emerald pendant that was in the family for five generations was the target of the heist. The TV then showed the calling card that alluded to as such but in the form of a riddle. The newscasters then proceeded to say that the details they received were from the police who had cracked the riddle and confirmed that the heist would take place within the millionaire's manor tomorrow night.
They moved on to another report which Aoko tuned out, lost in her thoughts over what was just reported. Another heist after an odd amount of time from the last. It was unusual since as far as she could remember, the thief's movement had been constant and frequent. The short notice wasn't the thief's modus operandi either. They would usually leave plenty of time for law enforcement to prepare after figuring out his riddles on the calling cards. Everything about this screamed unusual.
But her anger towards the thief had overridden any logical thoughts that may lead her to a truth.
He was back, prancing around with his stolen treasure eluding the police and avoiding the crimes he had to answer under the court of law. Crimes such as trespassing on private property, burglary, counterfeiting, and most heinously,
Murder.
With that thought, her mind briefly went back to that night.
Her mother's lifeless, bloodied body was seared into her very soul.
She squashed the memory before it went further but a realization had struck her, making her audibly gasp.
She quickly grabbed the remote and shakenly turned off the television. Her hands continued to tremble as she worked up the courage to look at her father, terrified of what she would find there.
Did hearing about the criminal who took away his beloved push him off the edge?
Did she inadvertently kill her father with her own two hands by turning on the TV in her selfish need to fill the silence?
She clasped her hands together to calm her fears, before turning to face her father. She wasn't sure what she expected to find there, maybe his nostrils flaring in anger or perhaps, the last cord of his sanity snapping, but his thoughtful gaze directed to the switched off television, only reflecting his visage, wasn't it. It wasn't a very noticeable change to anyone else but perhaps only to Aoko who had been abnormally attentive to her father's presence in the past few weeks. His eyes were lighter, reflecting a determination that Aoko didn't know where it had originated from. It was different from the unresponsive and almost catatonic state that Aoko had grown familiar with.
They sat in silence for a long time, where Aoko contemplated her father's shift in demeanor, in wonder of the catalyst and outcome resulting from this change before visibly startling when her father had suddenly stood up. With rapt attention, Aoko watched her father as he quickly moved to the kitchen before heading to the front door, with his keys to his car and phone in one hand and adjusting and securing his pistol at his waistline on his back with his other.
Aoko stood up too. Her muscles jerked her forward clumsily before she strode towards her father, determined to follow him in worry for his rapid change and the fact that he was leaving with his gun.
Her father had stopped her before she neared him in the hallway, shaking his head to signify that she wasn't allowed to go with him.
And with that, he walked out of the door, without any explanation for his actions nor reassurance of his return.
She stood there in the hallway, staring numbly at the closed door of the entrance for what felt like hours before she slowly moved back towards the couch, where they had only moments previously had been sitting together. She slumped down on the cushions with her head rolling back so she was staring at the white ceiling above her. Her strength seemed to vanish along with her father, leaving her limbs to lazily hang about her as if she were a marionette that had its strings cut off.
As Aoko's vacant gaze fixed on the empty white space before her, she understood what had happened. Her father finally had the conviction to cast her aside and abandon her. He had finally got rid of the one last reminder that tied him to his late wife and decided to end it all. Somewhere in a deep and twisted part of Aoko, she couldn't help but muse that he had the minimal decency to do it in a place that was far away for her young eyes to bear witness. Perhaps, in his own way, it is the last thing he was able to do as a father.
Yet, a large part of her still clung on and chased after the ever-eluding spirit of hope. A hope that he would return. Return back to her. Even if he was still broken when he returned, they would be broken together and she wouldn't have to carry the weight of solitude that rested on her small shoulders.
It was that foolish desire that had her glued to the couch, keeping an eye out towards the hallway where the entrance resided, and an ear out for the clinging of keys and the creaking of the door cracking ajar.
He didn't come back the next morning nor that night.
The second day of his absence, Aoko faintly wondered in her delirious mind whether she should try to contact someone concerning her abandonment, before dismissing this as idiotic. She tried to reassure herself that it was too early to do so, and her thoughts were purely emotionally driven rather than logically. But despite acknowledging this fact, she couldn't help her imagination run wild, thinking of various scenarios that resulted in a bleak outcome.
On the third day, Aoko's sanity was crumbling apart as her anxiety grew, leaving her trembling terribly. It was evening when she had finally decided to contact the police to file a missing person report. She stood in the hallway, staring at the phone before her, resolving herself that this was the best and logical conclusion to follow through with. She dialed the emergency number, when all of sudden the door opened next to her and in walked her father.
She froze at the sight of her father but quickly snapped to attention when her mind registered the faint rings of the phone as it tried to connect to a dispatcher. She hurriedly ended the call and placed it back on its receiver as her father walked past her, making his way to the living room.
She hounded his every step, stopping shortly before the couch, where he had laid on with his eyes closed. In a few seconds, she could hear his breathing deepen and even out, letting out soft faint snores. His usual visage that she had grown accustomed to in the past few weeks, was nowhere to be seen as his face smoothed in a peaceful bliss, getting rid of the harsh sorrow that previously devoured his being.
She stood there watching him, not sure of her own emotions. Was she upset that her father had left her behind with no supervision nor word of his whereabouts for days on end? Was she in disbelief to see him return after he had clearly abandoned her? Was she angry that he spared no glance nor offered any explanation? Was she disappointed that he had returned after all despite resolving in her mind that he didn't love nor cared for her, only for hope to bloom once more with his return? Perhaps she felt them all, as they warred and merged inside of her like toppling tidal waves.
So, she did what she was best at when she couldn't process her emotions without feeling like she was drowning in them. She shoved them down into Pandora's box and locked it away, tossing the metaphorical key into the abyss of her mind.
She slowly scuffled her body closer to her father, leaning forward to get a better look at his figure, checking for any signs of injury, but only finding dark circles under his eyes, suggesting sleep deprivation. It was a look that her father had been sporting since her mother's passing, much like the one she had on as well.
After reassuring herself that he was fine, in the loosest sense, she plopped down on the floor right beside him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he took and expelled. She leaned over to grab the throw blanket that was precariously hanging on the arm of the couch to cover her father.
It had been a long time since she had seen him this relaxed while resting. His sleep often plagued him with nightmares. Cruel scenarios conjured from his mind about his wife's death, jeering at his incompetence and failure in protecting her like he should have.
She knew of this because he would often talk in his sleep. Words that he wouldn't say out loud while conscious, slipped off his lips while he was asleep.
She suddenly felt a hand hold onto her own, hearing her father mutter a word that had her immobile.
He had uttered her name.
It was the first time since the accident that he had called her name.
The first time since then that he had acknowledged her existence.
It was then that Aoko truly broke down.
All the grief and underlying resentment that gnawed at her heart spilled and rushed out in a choking sob. It was as if her monotonous world had bloomed into an explosion of color, shocking her system as a sudden warmth surged forward in her veins.
She was still alive and present in her father's mind.
It was what she had been searching for since the accident. The intangible proof that she was still needed in the eyes of her father. That despite the coldness of his treatment towards her in his grief, she was still loved. It was the one comfort she had craved and wanted. She latched onto it like a man dying of thirst stranded in a desert with no water, only to be given a glimmer of hope in stumbling over an oasis.
She didn't know for how long she struggled to stifle her crying, in fear of waking her father, but she found herself waking up the next morning with an arm on the couch and the throw blanket wrapped around her figure.
The couch was empty, devoid of the presence that had just laid there the night before. But there was still warmth to be found.
A note was left on the cushion, a short message scrawled in her father's writing. It explained that he had gone back to work, and she shouldn't stay up late waiting for him, for he was unsure he would return that night.
It was simple and straight to the point. No flowery wording nor affectionate nicknames were written. Not even an apology nor an explanation why he had left a few days prior, leaving her alone.
None of that mattered to her. It was something she could ground herself with. Something she could keep close to her heart and hold onto.
She smiled before breaking once more into a soul wrenching sob.
Finally, the first sign of hope in weeks.
A sign that promised change and perhaps the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.
She prayed to her mother that this was true. That she wouldn't have to ever see him broken again.
For she knew that she wouldn't have enough strength to hold on for both. She wouldn't have enough willpower to mend a shattered heart when her own was already crushed into an indiscernible mess.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: Hello, it has been such a long time since this was last updated… Anyways, this was part of chapter 3 introduction of sorts but seeing as it had been such a long time since the last update, I decided to upload this tidbit at the very least. Actually, I had written perhaps one third of chapter 3 and had outlined another third, years ago. It was only recently that I was reminded of this and decided to rewrite the chapter entirely before posting it, as it had been a while since I had last written anything. So, consider this short interlude of sorts as practice. Hopefully I can upload the rest of the chapter in a few months, but I make no promises since I write randomly for fun!
I honestly feel unsure writing this story since it feels like I do a lot of writing without conveying anything substantial. Go girl give us nothing energy. But well, I had originally planned this story to be more of short snippets of their childhood, but my mind decided to add some personality to it and here we are, with very different energies in the chapters. Sorry for the inconsistency.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! Especially seeing as it was rather different than the previous chapters, filled with angst rather than fluff. More Kaito and Aoko cute chemistry and fluff goodness coming back with the next chapter so stay tuned!
Anyways, thank you as always for reading!~