Windfall

By Ysabet

Chapter 6:  Cause and Effect

It’s the waiting that’s the hardest, really.

Think of things from a cop’s perspective—no, not from the viewpoint of anybody as elevated or important as an Inspector or anything like that; no, consider how things look when you’re a lowly rookie fresh on your very first Kaitou Kid watch.

All the other cops have been telling you stories, priming you—and although you *know* that a lot of the stuff you’ve heard is total bullshit (nobody can walk through walls or turn to smoke; he doesn’t have fangs and glowing eyes; and if they think you believe that pile of crap about him flying off on a broom that one time they need their heads examined), you’re beginning to worry as the minutes tick by…..

….. and the sun begins to set, and the scheduled time gets closer and closer (what the hell kind of nutcase TELLS you when he’s coming to steal something?)…..

….. and the Inspector gets more and more antsy.  You’d almost think the guy was waiting for a date, the way he gets to pacing and checking every clock or watch within sight.  He’s nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and it makes your hands sweat and your fists clench.

The exhibit’s closed now, and it’s just about time.  One of the things the guys told you at the bar last night was that the Kid is *never* late; he’s always there when those stupid riddles say he’ll be, laughing like a maniac.  The laughter…..  That’s what they say unnerves you, makes you lose it and charge the bastard—anything to stop the laughter.  Criminals aren’t supposed to laugh—they’re supposed to get caught in the act and then do their damndest to get away, NOT grin at you, grab what they came for and then disappear in a puff of smoke—

He can’t *really* do that, can he?  And now the sweat is running down the back of your neck.

It’s time.

And…..

….. suddenly the freaking *lights* go out (“Ahh, SHIT!!” you hear the Inspector mutter) and then you hear the laughter—

*********************************************************************

From Nakamori’s point of view, the whole evening started out bad and went downhill from there.  He had once heard a visiting American investigator describe a total fiasco as a “goat-rope” (apparently derived from the attempt to drag more than one goat to market, all tied to the same length of rope and heading every possible direction at one and the same time); for some reason the expression had stuck in his mind as a valid description for that moment when you realize that absolutely *everything* is going up the tubes…..

Sure enough, this was a goat-rope.

To begin with, everybody’s nerves had been on edge; they all *knew* that the Phantom Thief would be there on time—but the problem was this:  he might be the man beside you.  Or the noise behind you.  Or that guy you had just talked with ten minutes before.  Or he might be hiding six inches away, right there yet somehow unseen…..

DAMN him!!  *If he was a regular criminal he’d be locked in a cell by now--  Hell, the big question here is whether or not he ought to be jailed or packed off to a rubber room!  What kind of whacko wears a white tux and a cape to steal in?*  It was an old line of conjecture, one that Nakamori had used to entertain himself with for years.  Why DID Kid wear a white tux?  Sometimes he wondered privately if, the first time the bastard had stolen anything, all his black gear had been at the cleaners. 

Whatever.  So there they were, jittery and tired of waiting.  The transfer-out rate of the Kaitou Kid Taskforce tended to be VERY high—only Nakamori’s nerves could stand the stress more than three or four times.

Six-twenty-eight p.m.  The sun was setting, and the shadows had already crept past the skylight overhead.  The Inspector scowled at the brilliant overhead lighting; the room was fully illuminated—*Why the hell does it feel like it’s getting—

***BANG!!!***  He yelped; all around him people instinctively flinched and ducked their heads.  There was a split-second of a pause, and then—

*** BANG!BANG!BANG-BANG!!BANG-BANG-BANG!!!***

-- as the fluorescent lightbulbs overhead EXPLODED into thousands upon thousands of splinters, raining in all directions amid the outcries of the policemen below.

--dark in here??*  Slipping on shards of glass, Nakamori snarled an animalistic snarl and switched on the flashlight he had stowed in one pocket.  All across the room lights came on as his men gathered their wits and shook the glass from their hair.  “Anyone hurt?” he called out sharply; he relaxed slightly at the shaky negative replies as he swung the beam of his flashlight upwards towards the clock behind the main display case—

Six-thirty p.m. exactly…..  The hands of the clock seemed to pay homage to the glittering tiara in the case as the beams of multiple flashlights glared off every facet; they *bowed*.

The dim afterglow of sunset filtering in through the skylights should’ve been some help; as men all around him cursed, yelped and slid in the unseen minefield of broken glass, he caught himself on the shoulder of the officer beside him (who seemed to be muttering a continual litany of “crapcrapcrap—“) and glared wildly up at the ceiling…..

….. and the utter sheets of total blackness where there should have been glass and evening sky…..

The laughter came then, and the cool, amused and-above-all-familiar voice above the crunch of glass and the angry, nervous clamor:

“Good evening, gentlemen, Nakamori-san!  So glad you could join me…..”  The Inspector wheeled about—

Kaitou Kid was standing behind him, balanced securely on top of the glass display case; below his feet, the Rose Tiara sparkled almost mockingly as pure white flashed in a multiplicity of tiny reflections, scattering miniature rainbows through the glare of flashlight-beams and shadows.  The rainbows glittered across his white cloak, sparkling it with stars as he bowed;  “I appreciate your keeping such a close watch on my prize—we wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?”  The Phantom Thief chuckled softly, the sound somehow carrying over the surrounding chaos.

”GET HIM!!!”  A large number of policemen charged more-or-less forward through the welter of glass in a less than successful version of the usual ‘Dogpile-On-The-Bandit’ routine; Nakamori hung back for a change, fumbling with something in his pocket as the white figure seemed to drop down and disappear…

… only to pop back up like a jack-in-the-box from behind the pillar.  With a sweep of one white-clad arm he simultaneously knocked over the tall case on top of the scrambling heap of uniformed bodies and snatched something very glittery out of mid-air as it tumbled towards the floor—

-- the Rose Tiara.  With another laugh the thief vaulted over a body or two, nimbly evading the hands that clutched at him from the floor as he darted towards the left-hand wing where the rest of the jewels were.  Alarms were now echoing throughout the building, adding to the general madhouse-effect of darkness, flashing lights, and broken glass; with a roar, Nakamori shoved his way forwards and drew back his arm.

“EAT THIS, you @#$%!!!”  The small, oval object hurtled from his fist in a lovely trajectory straight towards the figure in white—

--- who simply yanked off his top hat, catching the projectile neatly and lobbing it back in an arc that any Jai Alai player would be proud of.  The small object went flying through the air towards the Inspector, who cursed again and ducked as it impacted on a nearby pedestal, releasing a cloud of something horribly pungent that made the nearest unfortunate cops cough and choke, wiping furiously at their eyes.

The Phantom Thief paused for half a second, clapping his hat back onto his head.  “A red-pepper grenade?  Tsk, tsk, TSK, Inspector; how unsportsmanlike of you.  But if you’re going to start bringing out your toys—“ and several round, silvery spheres suddenly seemed to materialize in his hands “—I suppose it’s only fair for me to show you a few of mine, ne?” 

Nakamori winced internally as he caught his balance.  *Uh oh….*   Beside him he heard the cop he had fallen against (the newest rookie, he noted absently) moan “We are SO screwed.“ 

Someone to the Inspector’s left slid on the glass and went down; their flashlight went skittering across the floor in a spin that flashed light-dark-light-dark-light-dark across the room in a surreal strobelight effect—

flash:  A white-gloved hand sent the silver spheres dancing across the tops of the glass cases.

flash:   Tiny explosions went off, blam!-blamblam!!-blam! where they impacted (*More @#$!% glass—SHITshitshit!!!* thought Nakamori).  Display cases all over the darkened room shed their transparent shells like so many hatching eggs, the fragments seeming to move in jerky stop-motion...

flash:   And through it all, the white figure spun and whirled, laughing and laughing and goddamn laughing— he moved like a cat on rollerskates, dodging the hands that reached for him as he dove into the maelstrom of shattering and falling glass without fear.  He seemed to move through the glittering, flashing darkness without apparent effort, his cloak swirling and obscuring exactly what he was doing—

With a yowl like a scalded cat, Nakamori leaped after him in a sort of sliding run.  He knew he had cut his hands at some point (and a tiny portion of his brain wondered just *why* Kid was doing so much property damage this time) though the pain had yet to register—they were slippery where he grabbed at a pedestal for balance—but as shards crunched and shifted dangerously underfoot he lunged between two cascades of glass and grabbed at a flutter of white, yanking hard—

He might as well have grasped at smoke.  The tantalizing flicker of the thief’s cloak slid out of his grasp like so much vapor, and  as the spinning flashlight came to a halt he realized that his quarry was more than ten feet away and moving rapidly towards—

*Goddammit, I was RIGHT!  RRRRGH!!!*  --towards the *only* item in the room with a peculiar history of rumored magical powers and mysterious origins:  a green pendent of some sort; his pet researcher had dug up the dirt on it the night before.  *I knew it, I KNEW it!! and now I’VE GOT THE BASTARD!!!*

Nakamori was no idiot; there had been times enough in the past when a hunch had played through beautifully, when that little *itch* deep inside had been the hammer that nailed a perp… so he hadn’t ignored his suspicions THIS time either.  As the Phantom Thief reached out to pluck his prize from the gleaming, dangerous pile of glass shards, a sudden alien sound burst forth against the alarms’ clamor:

SSSSSSSSSSSSS……..  Near-invisible in the broken light, a gaseous cloud spewed forth from beneath the velvet where the jewel had lain; Kid yelped slightly, jerking back and clapping one hand over his nose and mouth.  Advancing (but not too quickly), the Inspector laughed triumphantly even as he scrambled for footing on the slippery floor.  “What’s wrong?  Where’re all those smart-ass remarks?  Got a little problem, huh?—WHAT?!?”

The Phantom Thief was standing upright in the swirling gas, unaffected.  And even from where he stood, Nakamori could feel his eyes begin to water and his skin burn…..

“Diluted tear gas?  You really ARE getting playful, aren’t you, Nakamori-san?”  Through the stinging haze he could see that the thief had pulled his cloak up across his face; he seemed to be having no trouble with the gas, and soft laughter rang through the cloudy darkness.  “You don’t *really* think I’d use so many gas-grenades myself without having a defense close at hand, do you?  Try again…”  He fanned the mist away; the green pendent disappeared somewhere within the shadows and swirl of whiteness as Kid dodged a flailing cop—the rest of the Task Force had caught up with them and were piling into the room with many curses over the maze of broken glass.

A gleam of white teeth crossed the shadowy face below the monocle as the Phantom Thief took in the oncoming crowd of Tokyo’s Finest, all swearing, slipping and yelping as the occasional shard took exception to their presence.  He turned back to the Inspector and bowed mockingly.  “Allow me to congratulate you on your foresight; you’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?”  As Nakamori growled and began to move menacingly forward he held up one white finger and shook his head warningly.  “Ah-ah-ahhh….. don’t; you should know better by now that laying hands on me is NOT a good idea.  And as for your new understanding… have you ever heard the old saying that ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?’”

That made him pause; a sudden sharp memory of men falling around him in a fusillade of gunfire halted the Inspector in his tracks.  The enraged man waved an arm at his advancing army and snarled out “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

The top-hatted figure before him shrugged, his cloak drifting around him as he slowly began to walk forward; barely ten feet separated them now, but he seemed unconcerned.  “Just that you had better be a little more careful now.  One never knows just who may be watching….. and I’m not the *only* one chasing after mysterious gems.”  At Nakamori’s start of astonishment Kid nodded, his monocle flashing; he took another step and then another.  “I see you understand—and neither of us wants a firefight like the last time, ne?  You should be glad that I’m on the side of the angels…..”

The cool voice warmed with amusement during the last phrase, and the Inspector felt his jaw drop.  Side of the *angels*??  “What the HELL are you talking abou—“

But Kaitou Kid was moving, taking off from his slow pace forward into a sudden charge (how the flying @#!!$#!! was he keeping from sliding all over the place like the rest of them?!?) towards the oncoming cops; with a ”HUP!!!” he did something intricate and acrobatic, seeming to spring *sideways* and ricochet off of a pedestal upwards.  Suddenly the air was full of Phantom Thief as he vaulted up onto the shoulders of the nearest cop—

“S’cuse me!  Coming through!  Lady with a baby!!!  Schnell, macht platzen!!  Gangway!!!”

--and he was, basically, bouncing from shoulder (“AACK!!”) to head (“OW!!”) to pedestal (*crunch!*) to uniformed back (“DAMMIT!!”), trompling his way across and over the too-tightly packed crowd of policemen before they could do a thing.  Cape streaming behind him, he was suddenly back in the central display room, scattering another handful of his damned silver spheres across the *floor* this time as he went—

***BAMMM!!! BAMM-BANG-BAMMBAMMBAMM!!! BANG!BANG!BANGBANGBANGBANG--***

Glass flew everywhere; it was total chaos, and there just wasn’t enough light to see by—  Nakamori swore as Kid’s laughter seemed to make the shards around him dance.   “Bastard—“  The Inspector began to vent a stream of invective that scorched the air blue; from his perch atop the pedestal that had once housed the Rose Tiara, the Phantom Thief cocked his head to one side and listened with interest.

He shook his head again.  “Such language—and you’ve got me pegged all wrong, too; the side of the angels, remember?”  He laughed.  “What’s wrong, Inspector?  Don’t you believe in angels?  No--?  Then allow me…..”

….. to *enlighten* you…..”

A white-gloved hand whipped out and up, throwing something small and shining at the skylight overhead—

***LIGHT!!!***  Nakamori and his Task Force yelped, shading their eyes as brilliance suddenly flared into life; their dark-accustomed eyes were blinded, and suddenly the air was full of the sound of even MORE breaking glass *AND* what seemed like thousands of wings, flapping and flapping and flapping--  Hands clapped over his eyes, the Inspector felt feathers brush against him as something went by his head with a *swoosh!*; the room seemed to be full of flight as well as light.

And heat, too….. you couldn’t exactly ignore the heat.  The blazing ball of fire that had smashed the skylight dropped to the floor with  waves of fiery warmth emitting from it; with a ratcheting ***click-click-click-SSSSSHHHHH!!!*** the overhead sprinklers suddenly popped into action, adding a heavy spray of cold water to the misery.

The Inspector cursed again.  *As if we needed something else…..*

“Oyasumi, Nakamori-san!  Keep away from the cigarettes!!!”

*Ah, SHIIIITTT!!!*  Through streaming, watering eyes the Inspector could dimly make out a white blur heading into the opposite room, dodging between two gray bulks that were undoubtedly some of the meteorites on display—

And something suddenly *clicked*; and he groaned.  *’The wings of angels’—the Astronomy Exhibit in the building’s right-hand wing— astronomy….. the heavens….. angels…..  The Angel’s Wing--  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHGHH!!!!*

*I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!!!*

But it was too late.  He saw one blurry white arm reach upwards, heard the distinctive *KPOW!!* of that goddamn card-gun and a sudden, noisy sound of even MORE breaking glass as the blacked-out skylight overhead gave way.  Kid was well to one side, balancing on top of another rock or something (he seemed to have a talent for *not* being where the glass landed); as the dim late-sunset light suddenly filled the room, something—a rope? a rope ladder?—dropped down with the glass, and Kid was moving, up and….

….and gone, a clean getaway out onto the roof.  Nakamori was practically frothing at the mouth by now; pushing his way through the last clump of soggy, struggling policemen, he half-ran-half-fell past cases of rocks and models of the Solar System towards the rear exit.  *@#$#$%!!, I AM NOT LETTING HIM GET AWAY THIS TIME---*  Dimly aware that his men were beginning to make their way into the room behind him, the Inspector grabbed the knob, yanked and staggered out into the courtyard between the two wings of the building—

And *THAT* was the moment that all Hell *TRULY* broke loose.

* * * * *

*Got it, got it, GOOOOOOT it!!*  Kaitou Kid crowed internally as he pulled himself up onto the roof amid a cloud of escaping doves; he tugged his hat down a little tighter onto his head and slid the control that would activate his hanglider from his sleeve into his palm.  Below him he could hear Nakamori-san’s steady stream of invective dopple past  as the angry man charged towards the back door.  *Too slow as usual, so sorry!  But you’re getting smarter, aren’t you?*  He spared half a second to mime a salute in his opponent’s general direction, then turned to peer over the edge of the roof.

A gust of wind caught his hat as he leaned over a bit to see a dozen or so policemen milling confusedly below in the courtyard; he glanced up at the cloudy sky, nodding in approval—for once there were no helicopters.  *They must’ve expected me to leave on foot; this building doesn’t look high enough for a good takeoff, does it?  Pity they didn’t consider the updraft from the fans at the Engineering Plant only a couple hundred meters away--*  He had watched the local birds making use of the mammoth currents of warm air the last time he had been on campus; they were easily strong enough to lift his glider way, way up above gunshot-range.  And speaking of which…  Where was the trouble he had been expecting?  No snipers, no black-clad personnel in the bushes, no mysterious figures with night-vision goggles—

Kid sighed; all that extra property damage he had caused, and it hadn’t even been necessary!  He had figured that making it difficult to move around would keep the majority of the cops inside the building and safe from extraneous gunfire, if the shit hit the fan again; but it looked like he’d been paranoid—nobody was moving around down below but cops, cops and more cops.

*Sure hope nobody got cut too badly—at least that first little ‘bang!’ of mine made ‘em all duck so the splinters from the lights didn’t land in their faces.*  The sound of a door opening below heralded the Inspector’s arrival into the courtyard; Kid grinned, shook his head, and reached for his hanglider control.  *Have a nice evening, Nakamori-san; we’ll have to do this again sometime soo—WHATtheHell?!?*

One of the cops below him had just drawn his gun and was drawing a bead on the Inspector.

Most Japanese cops didn’t even *carry* guns—just detectives and higher.  WHAT was------- *Oh, SHIT!*  Before he even realized what he was doing, Kid found himself pulling the trigger on his own card-gun; the scream below him carried quite well as the gunman found himself with a reinforced Nine of Clubs embedded in the back of his hand.  Nakamori had frozen where he stood, and now MORE uniformed figures were pulling out guns and turning towards him—

And the door clicked shut behind him, swinging into place with a sound that said ‘I’m locked’.  Or, possibly, ‘You’re doomed’.

It was a story-and-a-half drop from the roof; Kaitou Kid made it easily, landing hard on the shoulders of the nearest gunman as the first shots were fired.  Nakamori was already diving for a nearby piece of statuary for cover; the courtyard was only dimly lit, and as the Phantom Thief punched the struggling figure beneath him hard in the gut he could see several of the cops beginning to attack the shooters—

*Good,* he thought distantly as he avoided a swing; *they’re not all assassins—there must’ve been a few real cops out here too.*  He yanked a fistful of his cape out of his opponent’s fists, then sent a hard elbow straight into the man’s nose; it shattered with an audible crunch, and the man went down with a gurgling cry.

*Just as well—hand-to-hand combat’s not exactly one of my strong points.  Now WHERE’s—Awp!!*  Several shots pinged off the wall behind him; Kid yelped, diving for cover behind a chunk of something large and solid.

If the scene inside the museum had been bad, this was worse; all over the courtyard he could see the flash of gunfire, could hear cursing and outcries and the fumbling thuds of bodies as they struggled with one another.  Several figures lay on the ground, and there was no way to tell who was who.  It was a madhouse, and the stink of cordite was everywhere, carried by the rising wind.

*Dammit—this was between Them and me—Why can’t they just chase *me* and leave everybody else OUT of this?!?*  The thief groaned to himself, sinking down more securely behind the piece of Modern Art that was currently keeping him from getting his head blown off.  Gloved fingers ran lightly across his pockets and the other concealed compartments on his person as he considered what to do next—

--only to hear a horrifyingly familiar **click-CLICK** sound right beside his head.  “Don’t even THINK of moving,” hissed Inspector Nakamori Ginzo from the other side of his gun.

*OoooooShiiiit…..*

They had both, apparently, chosen the same refuge, like a rabbit and a weasel both diving for the same bolt-hole under the attack of a hawk.  The Inspector’s furious eyes stared past the barrel of his firearm into the Phantom Thief’s shadowy face; they were so close that Kid could see his own monocled reflection in the man’s pupils.

His white-clad fingers closed beneath his cloak on what felt like a regular, non-heat-emitting flash-grenade… and he hesitated.  If he set it off, he’d get away—but Nakamori would be blinded, easy prey for the unknown assassins who were still firing across the courtyard.

*Can’t do that; can’t let Aoko’s dad get offed, no way, no how.  Gotta think of something else--*

‘Something Else’ presented itself in the next second as a volley of shots ricocheted off the marble just above their heads, making them both duck as stone chips showered everywhere.  “@#&%!!” snarled the Inspector; “Goddammit!” hissed the thief.  Both dropped belly-down, lying nearly nose-to-nose on the grass behind the statue.

*Wonderful.  Just freaking WONDERFUL.  Bullets flying, enemies all over the place, and I’m stuck back here with somebody who wants nothing more in the whole world than to get me into handcuffs.  WHY me?  Aren’t I a good little thief?*  He rolled his eyes, wincing as another shower of marble-chips rattled down around them.  *Oh joy; and now I’ve got to get the Inspector to see reason before we BOTH get our heads blown off—*

* * * * *

It was very dark behind the chunk of statuary where the two targets had taken refuge.  Nakamori fumbled with his gun and tried to line it back up with his quarry, who rolled his eyes and snapped out “Will you STOP that?  We’ve got a hell of a lot more important things to think about right now than whether or not you catch me or I get away!!”  The Inspector ignored him; Kid muttered something uncomplimentary beneath his breath and reached across to thump the man right between his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.  “Hello!  Are you READING me, Nakamori-san?  There are bullets flying, cops are getting hurt—and you’re STILL trying to catch *me*??  Look around, you idiot!!”

The outraged man tried to swat at him, swearing vociferously, but the thief caught his fist in a tight, white-gloved grasp.  “Pay attention, Inspector!  We’re in trouble, or haven’t you noticed?  Your men are going down!!!”

THAT finally caught his attention.  Breathing hard, the Inspector pulled himself up a little to peer past the base of the statue.  Several meters away, a number of officers from the Task Force were staging a holding action at the museum door (they had finally gotten it back open again), but he could see at least one figure on the ground at their feet.  Across the clearing several more bodies lay prone, and it was impossible to tell whether or not they were friend or foe in the darkness.  Another pair of shots echoed off the marble, causing the man to drop back to his face again.

“Satisfied?  Good.  Now why don’t we both try to get out of this ALIVE before we resume our usual chase??”

The Phantom Thief’s sardonic words made Nakamori snarl, but the Inspector nodded angrily.  “FINE,” he bit out, the words coming hard.  “So, got any bright ideas how to stop your friends?  They’re after *you*, aren’t they?”  He checked his pockets for ammo clips, wondering if he had enough; bullets weren’t usually necessary equipment on a Kid watch…  *At least the sonofabitch doesn’t usually try to damage anybody—he could if he wanted to, that damned cardgun of his’d be enough, but…*  As he palmed a full clip the Inspector jerked his chin towards the figures in the courtyard, who had apparently grouped together behind some sort of statuary display; the occasional fireflash and report showed that they hadn’t given up yet.  “Well, aren’t they?”

The shadowy figure nodded grimly, his monocle flashing.  “Correct—except now they want *you* dead as well, Nakamori-san.  I believe the phrase from the gangster movies is ‘You know too much,’ ne?  I’m not sure what you’ve done to draw their interest, but—“

The Inspector jerked his head sideways, scowling ferociously.  “I do.  Looks like I figured something out about your little heists that nobody’s caught before.  You’re going after gems with weird backgrounds—they all have legends about ‘em, they’re supposed to heal you or make you immortal or crap like that—“  A distant rumble of thunder punctuated his words; there was a storm coming.

The white figure went very still; Nakamori could practically hear him thinking.  “And you wrote that down some place, didn’t you?  And someone saw it…”  The words were very soft, filled with some emotion other than his usual amusement or sarcasm; it was odd, hearing that cool voice sounding almost…

… almost shaken.  Regretful, actually…..

It was hard to tell in the dark and the noise—even harder when half of you STILL wanted nothing better than to handcuff the bastard (*He’s so goddamn close, I could FINALLY….. rrrrrgh!!!  Somebody up there HATES me!!!*) and be done with it—but….. well.  Never mind.  (*Grow up, Ginzo—you got more important things to think about right now.  Gotta take care of your men—you can catch Kid later.*)

“Yeah,” he growled, fighting back the extreme irritation that having to actually speak *civilly* with Kid was causing.  “I think they hacked my files—and if they did, then I’m on their hit list… right after YOU.”

*And I’ll be damned if I let ANYBODY take you out before I do, thief.  You’re MY target!!  Goddammit, I haven’t worked and sweated and been laughed at all these years to see you dead on the ground--*  Nakamori left the words unsaid, but the sheer animosity glaring from his eyes spoke volumes enough that white teeth flashed in a reluctant smile in the shadowy face opposite his.

“Let’s just worry about getting out of *this* situation alive, shall we?  We can both worry about the future later.”  The voice was calm and amused again, as precise and easy as ever and with all traces of shakiness gone.

Nakamori opened his mouth to argue, but a short burst of gunfire from the courtyard made him abruptly abandon his dreams of catching Kid for more immediate concerns, survival being first and foremost.  He gave a short, annoyed grunt, then jerked one thumb over his shoulder towards the chaos beyond their refuge.  “Rmph.  Fine.  They’ve got us pinned down but good—can’t tell the bad guys from the good guys—we need a way out of here—”  He eyed the dim figure with distaste, wincing as a shot buried itself in the wall above his head.  “Any ideas?”

Carefully his erstwhile ally raised a cautious head, peering between two struts of carved marble; something went **BDOW!!** at entirely too close a range, and he ducked with a yelp that was neither amused nor calm.  One white finger delicately traced the smoking hole that had just appeared in the top hat, and Nakamori felt his eyebrows rising in spite of himself at the muttered stream of curses that followed.  *Hrmph; interesting turn of phrase he’s got there—I’ll have to remember a few of those for later.*

The monocled face turned in his direction, and he tried for the umpteenth time to see the features beneath the tophat’s brim; no good.  It was just too damned dark and getting darker, too—the clouds overhead obscured any moonlight that might’ve helped otherwise.  The thief seemed to be considering some plan of action, though; he hesitated, then shrugged fatalistically.   Slowly the white-draped figure drew his legs in beneath him, showing remarkable flexibility; he twisted a little, gathering himself up in a very flat crouch (that hole in the crown of his hat was warning enough that visibility meant sudden death).  “Nakamori-san?  Do you see those bushes to our left?”

The Inspector turned his head awkwardly, trying to see over his own shoulder at a difficult angle.  The bushes were thick and dark and apparently uninhabited—he couldn’t see any attackers or allies in them; what was the problem?  “Yeah, so?”  He turned back—

**WHAM!!**  Nakamori Ginzo never saw the fist that knocked him cross-eyed, sprawling stunned on the dark ground…..

* * * * *

*DAMN, he’s got a hard jaw!!*  Kid rubbed his abused knuckles against his other palm, eyeing the stunned figure before him.  He had never actually had to hit Nakamori before—he supposed he should feel guilty about it, but at the moment he needed the man limp and cooperative.

He only had a few seconds…..

Careful fingers ran across the various grenades in a hidden pocket; *Let’s see…. No, not that one, or that one…. One of those, yeah, and—nope; ah, there we are.  And—why not?  One of those too, AND those, AND those as well….. Let’s give those damned killers out there a really GOOD magic show.*  Drawing a handful of objects out, he took a good hold on Nakamori’s collar and considered his targets…

*Ladies and Gentlemen, assassins of all ages….. let’s hear it for KAITOU KID’S MAGIC ACT EXTRAORDINAIRE!!!  BANZAI!!!*

**flick-flick-flickflickflick**  The objects went flying in carefully-aimed trajectories—

**BOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!**flash!!!!!!!**BIDOW-BAM!!!BamBAMBam!!!BIDOOOWWW!!!**ShiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOWWWWM!!!***

Lights, smoke, huge flashes as brilliant as the sun—the courtyard was suddenly full of a deafening, blinding, utterly sense-deadening display; brilliant fireworks and sonic screams vied with streaming clouds of pink smoke for attention, and everything was overwhelmed by an enormous **BWAWHOOOOOOMMMM!!!*** that rattled teeth and sent staggering figures to the ground as confetti and water rained down…..

*Water??  Where’s the water coming from--??  Ooops…….. wasn’t there some sort of fountain in the middle?  Urk—I think I sort of blew it up.  Oh well, can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs!*  Keeping his eyes firmly shut, he threw several more flash-grenades in a hard overhand volley for good measure, then yanked his partially-conscious burden across the ground towards the bushes.  *Whoof—heavy! Lay off the donuts, guy--*

Nakamori was beginning to stir groggily; he hoped the man was listening.  “In you go—and STAY PUT, Nakamori-san!!  For your daughter’s sake… please??” He stuffed the man into the shrubbery without hesitation, then took off like a bat out of hell for the nearest opening beyond the building walls.

*Keep-your-head-DOWN, Keep-your-head-DOWN, Keep-your-head-DOWN*---  His thoughts kept time with his hasty steps, as shouts and random gunfire erupted behind him.  Whipping around a corner, Kid dove for what looked to be an alcove beneath a staircase (*Nice and shadowy, just duck and pretend you’re not here, Thief Boy*); a quick reach into one pocket pulled out a thin, matt-black swath of plastic sheeting; scrunching his body into the smallest possible ball, he draped it across himself, edged back into a corner below the cement stairs—and hoped like hell that nothing was showing.

*I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m REALLY not here……*

Crunch, crunch, crunch--- those were footsteps, heading his way….. crunch, crunch, crunch, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH--

*Oh jeeze.  I’m totally screwed.*

Two figures were heading straight for him—he could see them through the tiniest gap between folds of blackness.  *SHITshitshit—what’ve I got for a weapon, where’s my cardgun--  Huh?!?*

The two uniformed officers were hunkering down into the shadows, pressing themselves as far back as they could into hiding--  they were actually UP AGAINST HIM and they weren’t freaking *noticing*…..  Kid held his breath; he could breath later, he was just *fine* turning blue, no problem at all…..

The cops kept very still; as thunder rumbled again overhead (louder this time), several other uniformed figures thudded past, yelling at each other or into radios and calling for backup and ambulances and—

--and if he didn’t get out of there soon he really WOULD be totally screwed.  Maybe he could bop one of his uninvited guests on the head and steal a uniform?  But it didn’t look like they were real cops, or they wouldn’t be hiding; that meant that they were—

“Now what?” hissed one of the crouching villains; behind him a slow, rather nasty grin was beginning to spread across the Phantom Thief’s face.

“Now we get the hell out of here.  Nothin’ for us to do here anymore—we failed, and if we don’t want to find our brains splattered all over the place we better make it back to base.”  The larger of the two had a raspy, odd accent, as if his throat had been damaged sometime in the past.  Kid frowned; he was too big—the other one’s uniform would fit him better.  Slowly one hand crept towards a pocket containing a tiny little gadget he had *just* managed to get his hands on—he hadn’t even tested it yet, but it worked on the same principles as that handy little dartgun-watch the Shrimp had—

“Shit… that Nakamori’s got more lives than a cat.”  The thinner man spat, growling; Kid paused, suddenly alert.  “You think he knows anything about the mole?”  A faint lightning-flash in the distance made the two men jerk slightly; they pressed back further into their hiding place.

*Mole?  Mole--??  Uhhhh…. oh yeah—a ‘mole’ is a secret operative, somebody you plant in a person’s environment to catch them offguard………. Oh.  OH man.*

All thoughts of a prospective clothing change vanished; he held VERY still, listening hard.

“Hell no—if they were clumsy, the bastard would’ve figured ‘em out by now.  They’ll get the son of a bitch tomorrow when he comes in for work.”  The heavyset ‘cop’ wiped at something running down the side of his face.  “Goddammit—shitheads nicked me with somethin’, I dunno what—let’s get going, okay?”  Faint spattering noises were beginning beyond their hiding place as the first drops of rain fell; a chill wind swirled beneath the stairs, and the two men shivered.

“Yeah.”  The smaller of the two put a hand behind him on what probably felt like a plastic bag of something relatively firm, maybe garbage or some such; he shoved himself up and out, staggering a little as he gained his footing.  His larger companion followed, still wiping at his face.  In less than a moment they were gone.

Behind them, two widened eyes peered through a narrow slit of an opening.

*Well, shit.  NOW what do I do?!?*

* * * * *

There had been a fist… he was sure of that much… and then there had been stars and flashing lights and a lot of noise, and for some reason there had been *bushes*…..

Nakamori spat a leaf from his mouth, vainly trying to drag himself from the clutches of what felt at first like some sort of horrible torture device; it eventually turned into a hedge as he dragged himself out on all fours.  As consciousness and memory slowly came online, he began to feel a little strange… and through the red film that was covering his vision he wondered hazily:  could a person actually spontaneously combust from fury?

It looked like he was going to find out.  The Inspector stumbled to his feet, one hand against his rapidly-swelling jaw.  All around him uniformed bodies were pelting past, calling out orders and helping fallen comrades to their feet; he half-tripped over a groaning figure, slipped in a puddle of water (why the @#$%!! was it so WET, anyway?) and sat down heavily on the edge of a fountain with half its rim missing to take stock of the situation.

Ten minutes later he still sat on the edge of the fountain, the taste of defeat bitter as ashes in his mouth.  Ambulances were on their way, backup was coming to help clean up the mess, and things were far less confused—but their quarry was gone, his target was gone, and the assassins had vanished.  Once his men had seen their commander upright and walking (his brief disappearance had caused more panic than he would have supposed), they had rallied back in the courtyard to report the Kaitou Kid Taskforce’s status—

Seven wounded… two dead.

There was nothing in the world Nakamori Ginzo would like to do right then than pin the blame on a certain Phantom Thief—but he *knew* better.  His men had bled and died as much because the unknown force of assassins were after *HIM* as they were after *Kid*.

If Kaitou Kid were to blame… then so was Nakamori; and that was the cold, bitter truth.

Seven wounded… two dead.

He had lost men before; it was part of the risk, everybody knew that.  You went to work expecting a normal day, but you were always aware as a cop that someday your badge might be returned to your husband or wife as a memento of the dead—that somewhere out there was a bullet with *your* name written on it, just waiting for a personal meeting.  Yeah, you knew—and if you had men serving under you, you also knew that *they* stood the same chances of falling in the line of duty that you did.  But the knowledge never made it any easier at all, not the smallest iota.  Knowing that you were a target too didn’t make your hands feel any the less bloody.

*Bloody…..*  The Inspector absently smoothed the bedraggled handkerchief he had bound around the long cuts he had finally noticed on his palms.  The blood staining the makeshift bandage was his, but it might as well be that of his men.

Seven wounded… two dead.   He couldn’t seem to let the idea go; as Nakamori stared down at the puddles of water around his shoes, he wondered how everything had gone so very wrong.

Rain was beginning to spatter down around him, hard to see in the erratic light.  GOD, he wanted a cigarette…..

It WOULD be nice and comforting to blame Kid, wouldn’t it?  But in the depths of his soul the Inspector knew that, no matter what peculiar drive made Kid steal and return his targets, it had nothing to do with either Nakamori’s death or that of any other policeman.  He had spent nearly twenty years wondering about the thief’s motives, but he had long ago stopped worrying about his intentions—it was pretty damned clear that he was only interested in stealing.

So… who the hell *were* the assassins?  Why—

“Uh, Inspector?  Sir?  Sir?”  The shout made him look up; one of his men was pelting across the courtyard towards him, splashing through the thin sheets of water that still pooled here and there.  “We’ve got a sighting—Kid was just seen scaling a wall two buildings West of here—“

Nakamori was up and moving before he even realized it.  “WHERE?!?”  He caught the young cop’s shoulder in a crushing grip, never noticing either the man’s wince or the thin trickle of blood that began to seep from beneath his own bandages.  “WHERE?!  We’ve got to—“

The man cut in hurriedly, his tired young face showing strain (Nakamori noted that it was the rookie again—good, they had a *survivor* there) as he wiped damp hair back from his forehead.  “This way—“  Calling to several of his men to fall in behind, the Inspector took off at a dead run behind the younger officer.

*You’re not getting away THIS time, not again—you owe me some answers you sonnovabitch, and I’m gonna collect if I have to drag them out of you with my own two hands—*

* * * * *

*Almost—there—*  With a final stretch and a bunching of muscles, the Phantom Thief heaved his bruised and aching self over the edge of the roof.  Panting, he sank down onto the tiles and attempted to catch his breath; the long evening was finally taking its toll.  *Man, whoever did the stucco-work on this building ripped off the college but good—the damned stuff was crumbling every place I touched!  Stupid shoddy workmanship… it didn’t help that it’s beginning to rain, either.*  He groaned as excited voices came from below, several of them.  *Crap, I *thought* they’d probably see me—I was pretty exposed here.  Oh well, at least the assassins have hightailed it by now and there’re no ‘copters yet; all I need to do is angle over to the Electrical Plant updrafts and I’m away scot-free.*

He spared a dark glance for the cops milling on the ground, wondering how many more were lying in pools of blood back in the courtyard…..

*Stop it.  You can’t help them by freaking out, and you did your best to warn Nakamori there’d be trouble—Hell, you did what you could to keep everybody inside!  If you hadn’t made such an unholy mess with all that glass, they’d’ve ALL been pouring out that door after you, right into a hail of bullets.*

He would think about it later; he would have to.  Now, he had to get *away*.

A gloved hand tapped the button that brought the hanglider into action… and he was off, running lightly across the rooftop as the struts sprang into place.  One step up—a leap out, a quick gut-wrenching, exhilarating fall through space—and the cool, sweet air of evening was carrying him off and away from the stink of cordite and the angry cries behind him, straight towards the massive updrafts that would send him Home Sweet Home—

* * * * *

Several stories below, a lone figure crouched in the wet bushes and raised something long and deadly to his shoulder.  He aimed—

There was a sound—several of them, dull and distant like the thuds you got when you dropped books onto a wooden floor.

High above the white figure *convulsed* in mid-air, trying to clutch simultaneously at his left side and shoulder; dark blotches bloomed against white fabric as the hanglider bearing him wavered, tilted, began to nosedive—

-- and then suddenly took off hard and fast like a paper airplane in a strong wind as it hit the Engineering Plant’s hot-air currents, arcing up and up and UP--

The lone figure watched until the hanglider had disappeared into the night, cursing under his breath; then he limped away into the darkness and cold, light rain, just one more shadow among shadows.

*********************************************************************

“Merow??  Meeeeerow ROW yow??”

“Yowwwl!!  Meeow??”

“……... Mrmph.”

She wasn’t responding.

The small white kitten gave his Person an annoyed stare from cool, rather frosty blue eyes; didn’t she know that she was supposed to answer his demands IMMEDIATELY?  He needed a *lap*, and he needed it Right Now.  A cat had his standards, after all.  But no, there she lay like a lump on the couch, open book still in hand as she had been holding it when she fell asleep.  Tsk; how very lax…..

*Humans* these days; his mom had warned him, but no, he had decided to be a Housecat—

His dinner-dish lay licked clean on the kitchen floor, and his Person’s own plate was now sitting in the sink; across the room the interesting thing humans called a ‘television’ talked quietly to itself, flickering from one bright picture to another.  When the girl had fallen asleep on the couch he had at LEAST expected that she would leave room for the Housecat In Residence (himself) to repose, but the silly human seemed to think that she was entitled to the entire piece of furniture.  *Most* inconsiderate.

Still… she WAS rather new at her job; Spot supposed that a bit of prompting now and then was appropriate.  He recalled his mother telling him quite pointedly that one’s Person had to be trained with the utmost diligence in order to produce quick responses to one’s commands—humans were fairly intelligent, but to enforce good habits a little reinforcement was occasionally necessary.

A grumble of thunder barked its way across the darkened sky outside the window; irritated, Spot glanced over one fluffy white shoulder.  The air was growing a little chill, the rain was coming down in torrents now, and he needed a *LAP*.

Mrmph.

Carefully the feline made his way along the back of the couch, white paws soundless and delicate.  He stopped to consider his options, tail curled with the tip resting on his toes.  Hmmmm… if he walked on her face, she should wake up.  Or maybe he should settle himself on her chest and start kneading?  THAT usually did the trick—there was nothing like the application of four of a cat’s five pointy ends to bring one’s Person out of a sound sleep.

Unwinding from his pose, the kitten streeeeeetched once, paws extended and back arched; he started to step down—and paused; his Person was making odd noises in her sleep…..

Oh; she was dreaming.  So humans did that too?  How weird.  Spot cocked his head to one side, peering interestedly down; it was rather cute, the way her hands and feet were twitching… maybe she was dreaming she was chasing somebody…  No, the noises were beginning to sound a little distressed; she must be having a nightmare.

“--Kaito--?  Noooo…..”  Poor thing; bad dreams could be terrible.  He hated the ones about dogs the most…..

The cat’s ears flicked back, then forward as he considered his Person’s discomfort.  If she was upset, she wouldn’t be still, and if she wouldn’t be still, he couldn’t curl up on her comfortably.  Something Needed To Be Done.

Spot hesitated…..  What would be appropriate in this situation?  Face-walking seemed a rather crude solution, and sitting on her head would probably only exacerbate the problem.  Perhaps he should bring her his catnip mousey?  A bit extreme, quite a grandiose and generous gesture on his part, but it might just work.

A couple of quick leaps, a momentary pause for a quick resettling of his tail-fur, and the kitten carefully stepped down from the back of the couch onto his Person’s stomach, dropping the mousey directly onto her chest.  She was still twitching and murmuring, but one hand crept up to clutch at the toy as she shifted slightly under his miniscule weight; Spot blinked as the girl’s other hand slid down from beneath her head, and he suddenly found himself being hugged close.

The feline squirmed slightly, his tiny claws beginning to unsheathe; how undignified, being held like a—a catnip mousey!

But…..

She was calming now, and it wasn’t *too* uncomfortable, snuggled against his Person like this…  Her fingers were smoothing his fur automatically, and she was nice and warm…..

….. warm…..

………..purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr………..

Spot shivered once, then relaxed; his claws resheathed as his Person’s nightmare-induced whimpers dwindled into silence.

Blue eyes slid closed; cat and human slept as the minutes ticked by into hours.  For the most part, they both lay still, their mutual warmth comforting each other; but every now and then the girl would twitch slightly, as bad dreams did their best to intrude.

Outside the rain beat on the windows, running down the glass panes like tears.

*********************************************************************

***PAIN***

The whole *universe* was nothing but pain—pain and dark and cold and…..

….. falling?

No, not falling—he had fallen, but now he was not-falling, not-moving, cold and he HURT and he HURT and oh, he HURT—

He had no idea where he was, no idea at all.  The last thing he recalled was….. a sound?  Sounds?  Dull, thudding noises, sort of thwup-thwup! things?  And—oh yeah, somebody was hitting him and it HURT---

He tried to reach for the hurt, shifting slightly in what he was beginning to recognize as cold wetness (dim memories of water falling from overhead—an exploding fountain? a sprinkler system?—flickered and were gone)…..

***PAIN***

*Oh God, that hurts!!*

For a long moment he teetered, poised on a fulcrum that would tip either back into black unconsciousness or forward into nerve-screaming awareness-----  Then, as the surge of agony receded a little he managed to keep his grip on the moment, though only barely.  Memory began to seep in…..

*….. the heist…..  All that shooting, and I—oh yeah, I threw Nakamori into a bush--  Uhhhhh…..  I was—on a roof, and I took off, and….. those sounds….. oh damn.  Gunshots.  They GOT me.*

*How bad?*  And where in hell *was* he, anyway??  Had Nakamori—

No.  No, he wasn’t in prison, and he wasn’t dead—he didn’t think you would hurt this much if you were dead.  He sincerely hoped so, anyway.  *Okay, think think think, Kaito.  Make the brain work.  What can you tell, besides the facts that you’re alive and you hurt?*

Cold…. wet….. dark.  And now that he was able to think (if very, very foggily), he could tell that he was curled up into a ball on something very rough, puddled with the rain that was falling insistently down on him.  He shifted slightly, unable to stifle the moan of agony that his movement caused….. a rooftop?  It was so goddamn dark—

No, not totally dark.  There was something flickering on the edge of his vision, something bright, something red and brilliant blue—familiar?

*… I know those colors, I know them together in that flickering pattern--- it’s something I see when I fly--  landmark, sort of, but up high…..  Dammit; can’t THINK.  WHY can’t I think?  Feel so… weak, like I’m sick… and I hurt so much I can’t even tell where it’s coming from, it feels like its everywhere--*

*No, no, no panic.  THINK.  Red-blue-red-blue flicker-- neon!!  That’s it!  It’s a neon sign, on the—uhhhh, the Ichiban Hotel!  The one downtown, just past the Shiba Bridge!  But it’s awfully far down…..  I’m—up high, somewhere.  Somewhere cold.  REALLY cold, and really, really windy…..*

Slowly, slowly he began to take stock of what hurt and what did not.  His right side—it felt bruised and scraped, but it wasn’t too bad; it was his left one that hardly bore touching, that screamed at him every time his right hand tried to explore the damage.  In the dark and the rain it was hard to tell, but eventually he came to the conclusion that he had been shot at least twice, once in the upper left shoulder and once somewhere around his ribs on the same side.  The lower of the two wounds seemed to be the lesser—it was difficult to be sure, but he thought the bullet had either bounced off or maybe just skimmed the surface.  His shoulder, though…..

That little bit of exploration sent him back into blackness for an unknown time, as his fingers brushed against both the entrance and exit wounds bracketing the outer arch of his shoulder.  The red lights exploding behind his clenched eyes and the wet warmth on his fingers was enough to make him moan again and curl up a little tighter into himself.

Very, very gradually his mind began to work again, and awareness of his situation edged over from the misery of his wounds to an urgent need to know where he *was* and if he needed to move.  Whether or not that was possible, well—that was secondary at the moment.

Okay.  He was on a rooftop, somewhere near the Shiba Bridge--  That profile over there, that was the Fujima Showcase building, and that was the Tokyo Tower not too far off in the distance.  The rooftop underneath him was a graveled one, and there were only a few this high in the area (he had to be up at least twenty stories or more—HOW the hell had he gotten that high with two bleeding gunshots and apparently a total lack of consciousness?!?)…..  *Got it.  I’m on top of that office building at the corner of Minato and Rinkou -- I think.*

*HOW did I get up here?!?*

*……………………even for me, this should’ve been impossible……………………..*

*Never mind, you idiot.  You’re here—guess it’s really true, the gods DO look after drunkards and fools.  I qualify as the latter, no doubt about it.*  He shifted painfully, trying to ignore the fact that he was shivering in the onslaught of rain.  *DAMN, this hurts!!  Can’t think straight-- gotta get someplace safe, someplace I can get some medical attention without ending up in jail--  Can’t go to a hospital, they report all gunshot wounds to the police, doubt they’d believe me if I said I was cleaning my gun and it went off.  Besides, I’m too young to own one, anyway.  Jii’s still in Okinawa checking up on that ruby necklace, Mom won’t be back from Aunt Makoto’s ‘til Wednesday--*

*I wonder how much blood I’ve lost?  Must be why I feel so fuzzy-headed…..*  There had to be someplace around here he could go—he was too goddamned far from home to make it there, it was clear.  He needed help.

Help.  *Yeah, right.  Good joke, that one.*  Who could *HE* turn to for help?!?  The only people who knew about him were Jii—and the Shrimp.  And he’d die on the rooftop in the rain before he gave himself up to Kudo, because that road only led to discovery and the slamming of a prison cell door.  Kudo played by the rules, and—

--and he needed someone who either didn’t care about the rules, or….. or…… dammit, he couldn’t think.  He REALLY needed help.

Blearily he turned his head; even in the rain-wet darkness he could see the spreading blotch that blackened most of the left half of his torso and all of his arm; if he didn’t find help soon, he was going to bleed to death right there.

*Logistics, then.  Gotta go to wherever I can, whoever I can, whoever’s nearest.  Akako—no, too far away, though she might not tell.  Hakuba’s worse than Kudo.  Aoko… no.  Oh God….. what’ll happen tomorrow, when I don’t show up for school?  Wonder if Nakamori saw me get shot?*

*Aoko….. wish you were here.  Glad you’re not—you don’t need to be mixed up with this, don’t need to choose between me and your dad.  No…..*

*This hurts so much.  Never thought being shot would hurt so much.  Never had an injury this bad before.  Half of me just wants to curl up and make it all go away… but if I do that, I’ll go away with it.*

*Think of something else.  Why is this rooftop so—so familiar, anyway?  Why do I kn—oh, right; I’ve landed here a time or two ‘cause ‘Yumi-chan’s place is close by, I use her balcony as a landmark because it’s nearly as high as this and it’s only a couple of blocks away--*

*-----------only a couple of blocks away------------*

*………. I can’t.  I can’t do that.  Can’t involve her, she’s an innocent little girl and she doesn’t deserve this.  Not ‘Yumi-chan….. though…..  NO.  I’d rather die on this roof than screw up her life like that, she doesn’t have anything to do with thieves or murdered fathers or goddamn guys in black--  Don’t be a selfish bastard, Kaito; you have no right to even THINK about doing something like this to her.  You’d be better off trying to find a phone and calling Kudo—or Aoko--*

*Oh GOD.  Aoko.  Aoko’s dad.  Those guys I overheard—whattimeisit?  Ah, shit, what TIME is it??  They’re gonna be waiting for him, they’ve got somebody in his office and they’ll KILL him as soon as he comes in for work--*

Panic ran around and around inside his brain like a rat in a cage, frantic and biting itself in its hurry; he moaned involuntarily as his shivers increased, and he fought to bring himself up to his knees.  Clutching at his useless arm, the wounded thief swayed dizzily and nearly fell over again.  *I’ve got to get down from here, I’ve got to find a phone, if I call Aoko she’ll believe me, I’ve got to reach her or her dad or--*

*Cellphone, right—where did I stash it…..*  Fumbling, numbed fingers searched frantically until a tag-end of memory sent them gingerly towards the jacket pocket just above the wound on his left.  *Please, don’t let it have been hit—*  In his hurry he pulled the pocket inside-out….. only to have his hopes shattered into pieces, just like the broken fragments of the cell-phone that tumbled onto the puddled roof.  *It must’ve been right where the bullet hit—might’ve even been what made it skid sideways—*

*What’ll I do now?  Gotta get DOWN from here, find a phone that works—*  Grimly the young thief began the painful struggle to stand.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later found him leaning very shakily on a small roof-entrance, shielded from the downpour by the overhang.  But the door hadn’t apparently been opened in months, and even the best lockpick on the planet couldn’t pick a lock with one only one working hand and fingers too cold and numb to hold a pick straight.  He had used the last of his concussion grenades—there was no way in, and the only other way off the rooftop was straight down.

Or—if he could manage to stay conscious—straight *out*,  borne on the wings of his glider.  There were two holes in the fabric (courtesy of the bullets), but if it had carried him this far—

The question was, of course, WHERE was he to go?

Terror and desperation had lent him a second wind, a momentary burst of strength; but already Kaito could feel it fading back into the weakness of blood-loss and too much pain.  He had to think of something FAST, before he ran completely out of steam; if *he* died, so did Nakamori.

And those bastards in black would win again, just like they had with his father.

He leaned against the cold brick wall, feeling his knees tremble, feeling the rain stealing the warmth from his flesh like the thief it was--  *I… can’t do that, not to Aoko--- she lost her mom when she was so small, to lose her dad like this….. and I wouldn’t even be around to help.  GodDAMN it, Kaito, that’s even more selfish than calling Ayumi—*

*-------no-------*

*-------‘Yumi-chan-------*

He had run out of choices.

*--forgive me.  I’m sorry, imotochan; I don’t know what else I can do.  If it was just me, maybe I’d just let myself die here on this rooftop like the idiot I am….. but I don’t have that right.  Can’t let Nakamori and Aoko pay for my mistakes.*

Fumbling, he pulled out a number of handkerchiefs from one pocket, all knotted together; as the rain began to slacken a little he gritted his teeth, fought back a wave of dizziness and began to bind his useless arm to his body in preparation for flight.

*********************************************************************

***tap-tap-tap***

“Um, Shinichi?” 

Hesitantly the little girl that had once been Mouri Ran poked her head around the corner into the boy’s bedroom; she frowned, a little worried.  *He’s not here either.  He didn’t go out—not in THIS downpour, did he?*  The rain was beating fitfully at the windows in gusts; thunder grumbled overhead, and she could hear the faint murmur of her parent’s voices as they sat together and planned a trip for the following week to the hot springs resort that she, Conan and her father had visited the previous year. 

Eri had commented earlier that week that, since their first honeymoon had been rather brief (they had both been in college), they should have a second one where they both had a better idea of what to do.  She had smiled rather wryly at that and her husband had turned a rather spectacular shade of crimson (although he couldn’t seem to stop grinning)…..

*I couldn’t be happier for them; it’s a second chance for their marriage, a second chance to do things right this time.  Funny….. they’re sort of picking up where they left off, aren’t they?  I mean, they even have a little girl again…..*  The teenager-turned-child spared a smile of her own for that—and for the hot spring, too; her cheeks reddened as well as she recalled *that* little trip.

*Well, the NEXT time we go I won’t be dragging Shinichi in with me…..  This time *I’d* be the one dying of embarrassment!*  She tiptoed past the living room, still on the hunt for the boy.  *Let’s see—he’s not in his room, not on the computer, not watching TV, not snitching a snack from the ‘fridge, not in the bathroom….. oh.  He’s brooding about that Kid riddle, isn’t he?  And I know where he’d go to brood in *this* weather…..*

Slipping on her shoes, the little girl quietly opened the door to the outside stairs and snuck out.  Sure enough, a small figure was huddled halfway down the steps, chin propped on his hands as he watched the rain pouring down a few meters away.

Without comment Rin joined him, shivering a little as she took her place on the step beside the boy; it was rather chilly out this late, and while the rain couldn’t quite reach them the dampness in the air could.  The stairs were dark—he hadn’t bothered to turn on the overhead light, and the only illumination that reached them was cast by the rain-blurred streetlights beyond the entrance.

They both sat for a time, listening silently to the drumming of the rain.

Softly, as if afraid her words would disturb the weather, the girl spoke without looking at the boy beside her.  “I was worried about you.  Are you okay?”

Silence; then:  “If I had known about the riddle before this—“

“—you would’ve figured it out and been there, I know.”  They had both listened in quietly on the police radio up in Conan’s room (a recent gift from Agasa-san that even Mouri didn’t know about yet) to the aftermath of the raid a couple of hours past; the site was still being cleaned up and catalogued, the ambulances had come and gone….. and Kudo Shinichi had missed it all.

Rin understood.  He had been understandably furious when he found out about the riddle (too late, far too late to do anything)—he had fumed and growled about it for nearly an hour, then gone silent with frustration and a deepening black depression.  That last was always a bad sign; it led all too often to the kind of brooding that would put him into a horrible mood for days.  When she had been Ran-neechan and he had been Conan-kun, this would occasionally happen (mostly when something reminded him of what he had lost—she had always put it down to homesickness, not understanding); when it had, Ran had nearly torn her hair out trying to find a distraction to bring her young charge out of the mopes—anything, short of strangling him.  Conan was rather a pain when he was depressed.

Like now.

“What could you have done?  What *would* you have done?” she asked him quietly, practically.  “Maybe you could have caught him, maybe not—but from what he told you in the park he has some sort of *reason* behind what he’s doing—it’s not just pure theft, right?”

He stared out at the rain, eyes dark.  “It’s still a crime.  What he does… they’re still the acts of a criminal, even if he has some sort of justification behind it.  It’s just that—I’m beginning to wonder:  what would I do if I’d been the one to have my father killed?  Maybe not the same thing, but-----“

Rin bit her lip, thinking hard.  “If it had been me…..” she said slowly--  “If it had been me, I don’t know what I would’ve done—whatever felt right at the time, I guess.”  She shifted on the cold stairs, leaning a little against the small form beside her.  “Maybe what he did was the only thing he *could* do…..  or the only option he thought he had, anyway.”  She half-smiled, turning her head a little towards him.  “It’s a bit like when you pretended to be Conan, isn’t it, Shinichi?  You did what you thought you had to…..”

“Mmph.”  Silence.

Outside in the dark, the rain’s drumming shifted tempo as a gust of wind blew the drops aslant; it was interesting, Rin supposed—if you listened without considering what was causing the sound, the cars passing and the beating of water made a sort of music, a fugue of weather and traffic-noises.  Soothing, really; maybe that was why Shinichi had picked the stairs for his brooding.

Or maybe not; most likely he had just sought out a place as dark and unprepossessing as his thoughts.  Sometimes, she thought with an edge of exasperation, he really *could* be a pain…..

Well, she supposed he had reason.  But he was too hard to live with when he got like this, so…..  Oh well.  Of course, it was raining—but so what?  She wouldn’t melt…..  He might get annoyed, but….. some things were worth a little annoyance.

Behind Rin’s eyes, Mouri Ran smiled to herself.  *Go for it, Ran-chan.*

“Shinichi?“  Suddenly she jumped to her feet, snatching up the boy’s hand and tugging at it with a sharp, concerned look on her rounded features.  “Come on— I just thought of something important—“

“Huh?!?  What—“  She was pulling him down the stairs—he barely made it to his feet, a puzzled look replacing the depressed blankness.

“Never *mind*-- I’ll show you in a minute!  Come on!!  Hurry—---“  Already she was at the bottom of the stairs.  Taking a deep breath, she charged out into the downpour and wind, towing the sputtering boy behind her.  He yelped slightly as the cold water hit him, but her excitement and apparent worry was catching; as she turned and pelted down the wet, empty sidewalk, he splashed along behind her as fast as his short legs would carry him.

They ran down the wet, neon-lit sidewalks until they were out of breath, skidding around corners and splashing through puddles that rose above their ankles; by the time they had reached the tiny park three blocks from the Mouri residence, they could not have been wetter if they had just climbed from a river.

Fighting for air (and inhaling water half the time), the boy leaned against a tree-trunk and attempted to talk; his eyes were large with alarm.  “Wh—(gasp) wha—(pant)—what’s the (gasp) problem??  What—“

Rin shoved her soggy hair back from her face; tendrils straggled across her nose, were twined around her neck in dripping tentacular masses.  Leaning over with her hands against her knees, she coughed for breath for a few moments, then plopped down onto a park bench with a wet **splat!**  “It—it’s—“  She paused, still breathing deeply.

“What?!?”  The boy’s brows were drawn together; he shoved his glasses back up onto his nose, then swore briefly and pulled them off (they were worse than useless in the rain).

“It’s……….. nothing.”  She beamed at him happily, water running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

“WHAT?!?”

“Uh huh.  Nothing at all.  You needed to stop brooding… so….”  Rin ducked her head, staring at the puddled ground; she seemed absorbed in watching the raindrops splash down, but one corner of her mouth was curled up and a dimple was showing.

There was a long silence while the boy simply gawked at her in disbelief; only the sound of the rain coming down was audible, a muted waterfall of soft noise coming from everywhere around them.  At last, shaking his head, Conan sat down on the bench with a wet **squelch.**  “You did this… dragged me out here, got me soaking wet, made me worry… to cheer me up?  All this—“ and he gestured wordlessly at the rain and the darkened park.

Rin shrugged, her mouth twitching suspiciously.  “Well… I didn’t arrange for the bad weather, but— you’re horrible company when you sulk, worse than my dad…..  When I was big, I used to take ‘Conan-kun’ to the park to make him feel better, right?  And before that, we used to argue.  So—“

“—I decided to do both things this time.”

He sputtered; beside him, Rin blinked rain-wet lashes and tried to look innocent.  “Did it work?” she inquired, tucking a sodden clump of hair behind one ear.

Conan hesitated, still rather indignant; after a moment a slow grin began to spread reluctantly across his face.  “Well…..”

One eyebrow quirked up as she chuckled at him in satisfaction.  “Hah!  It did.  I thought it would.  When you get like that, you’re your own worst enemy—so I gave you something else to think about.”  She shot him a sideways glance that held just a tinge of warning behind the amusement.  “Besides…. Much more gloom-and-doom and I would’ve started practicing katas on you.”

“Oh.”

“AND,” she continued blithely, “if I ended up beating you up, you wouldn’t be in any condition to try and find out what happened tonight, would you?  OR help to recover whatever he stole—you *know* Inspector Nakamori probably didn’t manage to stop him…..”

The boy blinked at her, water running down his face.  “Uhhhh…. good point.  But—Ran?”

“Hm?”  She swung her feet, watching as the rain fell all around them; another shiver rippled through her and she wrapped her thin arms around her shoulders.  “Brrrrr….. what?”

“Did we HAVE to get so wet?  We could have grabbed an umbrella…..”

The little girl giggled.  “Ayumi’s, maybe?  I never knew you liked HelloKitty so much—“

He aimed a swat at her, which she ducked with ease.  After a moment he snickered, shoving his rain-heavy hair back from his forehead.  “I wish you could’ve seen how fast Kid moved when he realized it was me—“

The little girl’s forehead wrinkled; “I thought you were looking away--?”

“I was, but I could hear him go up the tree.  Never thought anybody could climb *that* fast…..”  He snickered again.  “You suppose we should head back now?  Your mom and dad may be wondering where we are…..”

With a shrug the brown-haired child beside him slid off the bench, landing in the mud with a wet splat!  “I guess…..  Shinichi?  Do you really think Kid told you the truth—about Ayumi, I mean?”

He glanced up from where he was tying his shoe, the wet laces sliding limply from his small fingers.  “Oddly enough, yeah.  He was sort of dancing around telling me everything else, especially his motives….. but that?  Yeah.  I really think he was telling the truth.  He doesn’t want to involve her in any Kid business—matter of fact, he promised not to.”  The boy straightened; the brooding look was still there a little but it had lessened considerably.  “I got the impression that Kid doesn’t make promises lightly; it’d take a lot for him to break this one…..”  He scratched his wet hair, looking rather perplexed; “I’ll be damned if I know why I’m trusting him… but I am, I guess.  Maybe it’s because he doesn’t seem to like to lie?  I mean, even his riddles tell the truth if you look at them hard enough…..”

“Good.”

He eyed her a little sideways; Kudo Shinichi knew that look, the one where Ran’s eyes flashed and her jaw was set.  If Kid broke his word, he’d better damn well have an excellent reason for it—or he’d be finding out just why Mouri Ran had been the Karate champion for her school.  And come to think of it, she had a bit of a bone to pick with him anyway, one that concerned a certain impersonation that was done of her during the Black Pearl incident…..  “Ready?”  Without a second thought he reached for her hand.

It was warm in his despite the cold of the continuing rain; kicking at puddles, they splashed out of the park onto the sidewalks towards home. 

Rin glanced at him mischievously as she shivered again.  “You know, I bet we look awfully cute, walking together hand in hand like this…. Two little kids, maybe brother and sister…..”

Conan shot her a wry glance, feeling his ears burn slightly.  “Trust me, Ra—uhh, Rin; if I ever start feeling ‘brotherly’ towards you, I’ll move in with Agasa-san.”

Her jaw dropped, and a sudden blush stole across the heart-shaped face.  “Shinichi!  I—um, I mean…..”  Her cheeks shaded to scarlet, and she looked both gratified and embarrassed.

“Gotcha…” he teased her, his eyes lighting up with amusement.  The last of the boy’s sulkiness vanished in a sudden surge of warmth, strong and heady as the wine he wouldn’t be allowed to drink for another decade.  “Hey, Rin-kun?  There’s something I’ve been wondering about—“

She was still blushing; as the rain began to slacken a little, one eyebrow crept up.  “W-what?”

Conan’s smile broadened; she looked more like her old self than ever when she was flustered.  “Well….. when you were Ran, you were ticklish….. but how about now, as Rin?” 

Her outraged squawk and abrupt halt was his answer.  “You *are,* huh?  Really?  Just HOW ticklish are you?”

“Aack!  Shinichi, stop!!  ……….SHINICHI!!----- AWWP!!!”

Laughing like idiots, dodging puddles and each other, their chase lasted all the way home.

*********************************************************************

The auditorium filled with children and adults of all ages applauded wildly, cheering with all their might as Ayumi The Astounding triumphantly held up a card for all eyes to see.  Her sequined dress glittered brilliantly under the stage lights, and in the front row her parents, Mitsuhiko, Genta, Mouri-tantei, Agasa-san and Ai all goggled at her with total astonishment.  “As you can see, it’s the ACE OF DIAMONDS!!!”

“Fantastic!”  “How does she DO that??”  “I can’t believe my eyes!!”  The cheering reached thunderous proportions.

(From the third row Conan and Rin—AND two people who looked like Shinichi-niisan and Ran-neechan—waved, laughing.  Conan began throwing popcorn at the back of Ai’s head, and Rin elbowed him in the ribs disapprovingly; when this failed to have any result, she dropped a piece of ice down his neck from her soda.  Curiously enough, both he *and* Shinichi-niisan jumped…)

Ayumi The Astounding ignored the ruckus in the audience, bowing gracefully (her teacher had taught her that magicians ALWAYS bowed, even the girl ones—they NEVER curtseyed).  She removed the shiny black silk top hat that she had been wearing, smiling happily.  “For my next trick I will pull a Hei-san from out of my hat…..  Okay, everybody:  Start thinking hard about Hei-sans….. Concentrate, please…..”

(Conan and Shinichi-niisan blinked at each other, puzzled; identical delighted grins crept across their faces after a second and they fell onto each other’s shoulders, howling with laughter.  Rin heaved an exaggerated sigh of aggravation and dumped her popcorn over both of their heads as Ran-neechan cheered her on.)

The hat suddenly became rather heavy; looking puzzled, Ayumi The Astounding reached in.  “There’s something in here already?  Ummmm…..”  Beneath her fingers were feathers, warm and fluffy—she jerked her hand back as an alarmingly large, beaky head rose from out of the hat with a piercing squawk!  Dropping the hat onto the stage, Ayumi The Astounding  backed away with as much dignity as possible. 

“Eeep..… A-as you can see, Hei-san can’t be here today; you must not have concentrated hard enough!  So… instead… we’ve got, ummmm, *peacocks,* I think…..”

The bird somehow managed to pull itself out, tail and all; it postured and preened, stealing the spotlight from the young magician as a second and then a third arrived, all emerging from the depths of the top hat.  Their shrieks and wing-flapping began to fill the air, drowning out the alarmed murmurs and hesitant clapping from the audience.  Ayumi The Astounding scowled; this was going ALL wrong!  She ran forward, waving her wand:

“Shoo!!  SHOO!!!  Go away, peacocks!!!” 

The three large birds took off in a rush of wind and feathers, screaming like sirens as they circled the auditorium; everybody ducked (even the popcorn-bedecked quartet in the third row, although they seemed to be near-hysterical with laughter by now) as the heavy wings beat over their heads—flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP----

She ducked as they dove back towards the stage, but they just kept coming:  —flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP----

*********

*****

*

……..and Ayumi awoke abruptly, sitting upright among her tumbled bedcovers with a tiny “yeep!!”.

*THAT* had been weird; Ayumi knuckled the sleep from her eyes and blinked around at her silent room, dark and shadowy save for the dim glow of the lights from her balcony door.  The dream had been so… real; she could almost hear the peacocks shrieking, could nearly hear the flap of their wings…..

…..flap….. FLAP-flap….. FLAPflap-FLAP…….

That wasn’t a dream.  There WAS something making a noise; Ayumi shut her eyes quickly and froze, fighting a sudden and terrified urge to fling her covers over head until it went away.  Fleeting thoughts of the Monster In The Closet that she had fervently believed in several years before flashed through her mind before an eight-year-old’s modicum of common sense batted them down.

*There’s NO SUCH THING as monsters, there’s NO SUCH THING as monsters…..  The noise sounds like something on the balcony--*

*Oooooooo.….  There’s NO SUCH THING as monsters…..*

Ayumi really, really wished her mom hadn’t gone out of town.  Her daddy had been gone for a month now—his work sent him off to train people in new offices for weeks at a time, and right now she would have given almost ANYTHING to hear him coming through the front door with his suitcases and his “Tadaima!  Where’s my little Ayumi-koneko?”

It was raining; a muted growl of thunder, so low it was scarcely audible, rattled the glass in the sliding door; a shush of softly falling rain whispered to itself from the overhang, and some tiny voice in the back of Ayumi’s scared young mind wondered if her roses were getting all nice and watered (was rainwater better for roses than regular water?  She’d have to find out).

*That noise sounds like…. it doesn’t sound like monster noises….. it sounds like, like *cloth* flapping.  Did something blow onto my balcony?  Or is it really wings?  Maybe there’s a big BIRD out there, an owl or something—maybe it’s, maybe it’s a BAT or, or—*

*I won’t know if I stay here under the covers.  Conan would laugh at me—no, he wouldn’t laugh, but HE’D go and look and see what it was—and Rita-kun’s in there asleep on the couch and if I yell she’ll come running right away…..  Maybe I could just peek around through the glass…..*

Feeling very brave (and wishing strongly that was Somewhere Else Right Now), Ayumi slid silently down from beneath her covers onto the floor; sneaking across her room, she slowly peered around the edge of the doorjamb and through the glass of her balcony door---

….. FLAP-flap…..flap….. FLAP-flap…….

Something WAS out there— something *white.*  It was crouched over by her rosebush, and it seemed to be waving at her—

Sheer terror overwhelmed the little girl’s vision and intellect for a second or two as she drew in breath to cry out; then, as her eyes told her that the ‘waving’ was actually a piece of cloth blowing in the wind (hence the flapping sound), she choked off her scream and *stared…..*

The whatever-it-was seemed to be… wearing a top hat.

Monsters did not, in her experience, wear top hats.  Therefore, this was not a monster.  And…..also….. she remembered somebody, once upon a time, who had worn a white top hat like that AND had been on her balcony too.

….. she remembered…..

* * *

He had been standing on the railing, balancing so *easily* against the wind; Ayumi had been at least two-thirds asleep when she padded out onto the balcony in her pajamas, and the movie she had just seen had been figuring in her dreams.  “Dracula-san?” she had asked the caped figure sleepily without even the slightest touch of fear; he had dropped lightly down, a little smile on his shadowy face as he told her No, he was just tired from flying so far…..  It had made sense to her at the time in the way that dreams did; of course he was tired, anybody would get tired if they flew too far so late at night….

And then the police helicopter had arrived, and the blast of noise and light had driven away the last vestiges of dream-feeling.  He had left (the lightest touch of lips to the back of her hand, the soft voice murmuring ‘Goodnight, little miss’ just before he flew away like a white dove into the darkness), and when the men in uniforms had arrived at their apartment door with questions and paperwork she had found out her oddly gentle visitor’s name:

Kaitou Kid, the Phantom Thief.

It had been very exciting the next morning when she went to school and told her friends; Conan’s face had turned very red.

And later on—

There had been a moment, months back, when she almost thought she had met him again; just for a second or two, when strong arms had grabbed her from behind and taken her away from terror into safety…..  It had been Ojiwa-sensei, of course, who had been so scary and awful and she had been SURE she was going to be killed—

--but the gentle, quick hands had caught her up and whisked her away, and the gentle voice (familiar, she was SURE it was familiar!) had told her to stay put and then—

--then she had been rescued by the police.  And she hadn’t really known what to say when they asked her just who had gotten her away safely…..  Later on, when Mouri-tantei told them that he had seen Hei-san the Janitor scoop her up, she had simply nodded; of course, that’s who it had to be, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

But… now…..

Yushida Ayumi was learning a lot about *assumptions,* even if she didn’t know the word yet.  She was learning that leaping to them often meant falling on your face, and that sometimes it was much smarter to just say nothing and LISTEN.  After all, that was how she had found out about Rin and Conan, wasn’t it?

* * *

She remained kneeling on the rug by the door, staring at the white figure crouched in the corner.  It seemed to be awfully wet; the continuing *flap-FLAP* of what she now thought was a cloak sounded heavy with rain even through the glass.

If he was wet, he was probably cold, wasn’t he?  Nobody should have to be cold and outside in the rain at night, like a stray cat or dog.  Very slowly she climbed to her feet.

If he was wet and cold, he’d need a towel….. she still had one on the back of her chair from where Rita-kun had been helping her dry her hair after her bath.  Picking it up and wondering if this was really a good idea, Ayumi slowly slid open the door to her balcony.

….flap-flap…. FLAPflapflap…..

The white figure hadn’t moved at all.  There was little light on the balcony, but the city-glow reflected down from the lowering clouds… she could see well enough.  It WAS him, or at least it looked like it was… but if this was Kaitou Kid, why was he visiting her again?  And why did he seem to be asleep on her balcony, all curled up into a little ball?

Was he tired from flying again?  Maybe he *was* asleep—she needed to see his face.  Biting her lip, Ayumi stepped forward; without any conscious thought on her part her hand drifted up towards the brim of the top hat to pull it off…..

Only to be stopped by a wet, white-gloved hand that whipped up and caught her wrist tightly; the little girl *squeaked* in terror, and the hard grip immediately slackened—  The hat tipped back and a monocle flashed mirror-like as a pale, weary face raised itself from its droop to smile weakly into her own:

“’Yumi-chan?  Don’t be scared—it’s me…..” 

That voice.  She wondered, just for a moment, if she was still asleep…..

The voice was barely a thread, so infinitely tired that it was scarcely recognizable over the rain that fell on them both….. but it struck the child like a strong, sudden gust of wind.  It flipped all her ideas around, turned her world sideways and backwards with realization and left her standing very, very still and shocked before him, mouth open.  Nearly a minute passed before she could manage to stammer out her question to the shivering figure that waited so very quietly:

“Hei-san?  HEI-SAN?!? W-why are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid???”

He smiled at her again, releasing her wrist and slumping back against the wall beside her rosebush; the rain-wet petals seemed like pale ghosts of the whiteness of his cloak.  “Well…” he half-whispered, his voice so low and wavery she had to strain to hear it, “It’s… sort of a long story.  ‘Yumi-chan?  Can you—help me up?  I need to get out of this rain—”

She hung back a little, so bewildered she didn’t know quite what she should be doing; drops blew against her face and her feet were beginning to get wet.  “Um… I can go get Rita-kun—she could help too—“

He seemed to wince; rain dripped steadily off the brim of the white hat, ran in a small stream as the strange figure that her friend Hei-san had suddenly become bowed his head.  “No—nobody else—”  The tired voice trailed off weakly as he shivered and seemed to slump in on himself.  “Got to get inside….. so cold…..”

He tried to straighten a little, bracing one hand against the wall.  As it slid across the white stucco the wet glove left a dark, smeary blotch behind it, and Ayumi saw that the fabric was blotted with large stains.  There wasn’t enough light to really see colors, but she thought they might be red.  “Hei-san?  …..are you hurt?”  The child reached out involuntarily but her friend shifted back very slightly, a grimace of pain crossing the little that she could see of his face.

He nodded.  “That’s why I want to get inside,” Hei-san told her matter-of-factly, his voice even fainter than before.  “My shoulder and left side—  ‘Yumi-chan?  Can we-- just get out of this rain… and *then* talk about that?  Please?” 

He sounded so tired.

It took a lot of work to get him inside—he was so *heavy,* and she was so small; and every movement seemed to hurt him a lot.  During the whole difficult, halting progress Hei-san kept his white cloak wrapped around his left arm and side—well, it HAD been white; it wasn’t anymore.  Dark stains had bloomed across the pale cloth even before they moved, and by the time he sank down on the rug just inside Ayumi’s door they had grown considerably and the rainwater that dripped from his limp form was red.

Outside the rain was beginning to slacken; it was already a lot lighter than it had been, as if the downpour had only existed to bring her strange visitor to her.  Strong gusts of wind were beginning to chase the clouds across the sky, wailing fitfully through the balcony rails.

The little girl bit her lip as she stared at her friend and teacher in the dim light; there were so many questions, so many impossibilities right there in front of her—her young mind tried to cope with them and failed.  It was just too much to think about…  So, with the practicality that was a strong part of her character, Ayumi simply put them aside to deal with later.  Hei-san was wet and he was hurt (she was soaked through too, but she’d worry about that in a minute); he needed to get dry and to feel better.  *Those* were the important things right now.

The towel she had carried lay forgotten in a sodden mass on the balcony outside; as the child quietly closed the door, she considered what needed to be done.  When *she* got soaked, the first thing her mom did was make her change clothes; but she didn’t have anything that would fit him--  Oh, wait, maybe she did…

Kneeling beside the still figure, she whispered “I’ll be right back—“  He did not stir; she wasn’t certain if he had even heard her.

The warmth and dry air of the hallway gave her something of a shock as she slipped out of the door, shutting it behind her.  From the living room she could hear Rita-kun’s quiet snores above the low mutter of the television, and she hesitated for a second; if she woke Rita-kun up….. but Hei-san had asked her not to, so she didn’t.

Her father’s bath-robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door; that (and the armful of towels supplied by the same room) made up her burden as she staggered back into her bedroom, as well as the small first-aid kit from beneath the sink.  Hei-san had not moved at all, from what she could tell; he still lay half-curled on his right side, his face resting against one outflung arm.

‘First things first’—her mother always said that; Ayumi swallowed hard and gently reached out to remove the white top hat.  It was completely soaked, the silk oddly heavy in her fingers; peering inside, she saw that it seemed to have things *hidden* inside it (there were a number of pockets and interesting compartments) that she would’ve liked to look at.

Maybe later.  Little-girl fingers pulled the monocle gingerly free, laying it on top of the hat.  NOW what?  She frowned; if he’d wake up, it would be a lot easier…..   “Hei-san?  Hei-san, can you wake up a little?  Please…?  Hei-san…?”

Nothing.  His breathing was fast and sort of sharp, like somebody having a bad dream.  She’d have to do what she could on her own.

Carefully Ayumi pulled the white cloak away from his side; the mass of wet fabric stuck to him in several places, but she was determined and finally got it all away.  That was when she drew back, appalled—she knew that he was *hurt,* but….. there was so much blood all over the place; he looked awful, and it was *icky.*  She was going to get it all OVER herself!

Never mind; he needed to be fixed up.   And she was soaking wet anyway…..  A moment’s exploration showed her how the cloak was fastened at the shoulders; she couldn’t get it off the one he was lying on, but she unfastened it from his wounded side and folded it back.  The top of his jacket was awfully messy—Ayumi could see that it was torn in several places, the ones with the most dark stains; as she tried to pull it free Hei-san jerked beneath her gentle tugging and moaned, making her pull back in alarm:  she was hurting him!

“Hei-san?  Hei-san, *please* wake up--- please?”

Still nothing, and the stains were larger and darker now.  It was on her rug, too, and---  Well, if he wouldn’t let her take his jacket off, she would just have to fix him up with it on.  His arm seemed to be tied to the rest of him somehow, and the knots were too tight for her small fingers to open.  Frowning ferociously, the girl set to work.

Several towels later, Ayumi sat back on her heels and wiped her messy hands absently on her damp pajamas.  She had tried to remember the stuff Conan had told them once about how to take care of hurt people—if they were bleeding, you were supposed to put bandages on the hurts all nice and tight, so the pressure kept the blood from coming out; that made sense.  But she couldn’t really see where he was hurt—his jacket was in the way.  So she piled the towels on over and behind where he seemed to be needing them.  But… she was supposed to make them tight, wasn’t she?  Pushing on the towels seemed to be a bad idea—Hei-san had sounded bad when she did that, so….. maybe if she piled something on the towels?  Something to hold them in place?

It seemed to be working; the child tilted her head to one side and surveyed her friend.  He was still awfully pale, but the stuffed animals she had piled on top of him were keeping the towels where they should be, and she had put an awful lot of tape to hold them in place as well as on the towels.  Gently she draped her father’s bathrobe on top of everything—it was warm and should help keep him dry.

Maybe she could get Hei-san to wake up now?  Thinking hard, Ayumi’s eyes wandered back to the door onto her balcony.  The sodden towel was still lying out there, flapping a little in the wind (the rain had mostly stopped by now); maybe it would help—

* * * * *

--he had been sitting there in the rain for a couple of hours, he guessed, though he really didn’t care.  Somehow he didn’t seem to feel it falling all soft and cold down on him, not really—he could nearly ignore it, could almost retreat away from it and everything else if he tried... and maybe that would be a good thing.  Maybe if he just let himself go all numb he wouldn’t have to think about what they had told him about his dad….. about the accident.  It couldn’t be true, anyway—his dad was the GREATEST magician in the world, he *wouldn’t* go and die in some stupid stupid accident onstage, he *couldn’t!!*  So he’d just sit out here on the steps in the rain until somebody came and told him it was all a mistake, that his dad hadn’t really died at all—

The door behind him opened, then closed.  Maybe--?  He looked up hopefully, water sliding down his young face to mingle with his tears.

No.  It was just Aoko-kun, her own face all swollen and blotchy with crying.  She didn’t say anything at all, just sat down beside him on the wet steps without a word.  Stupid girl.  Why had SHE been crying?  *She* still had a father— her dad hadn’t just—

--just died—

He must’ve made a sound without realizing it, since suddenly he felt his hand being gripped tightly by strong, thin fingers; Aoko-kun had hold of it and was squeezing it tightly, almost as if she wanted to hurt him.  But in a weird way it sort of felt good—the hard clasp felt realer than anything had in the last few hours, realer than the misery that he had been wrapped in, realer than the rain or his mother’s weeping…..

….. and somehow it helped to pull him back through the numb agony of his own grief, back into the world.  Kaito was suddenly conscious of how *cold* he was, how wet the steps beneath him were… of the hushed voices inside the house behind him, the way the girl beside him was staring at him, her eyes so large and dark and sad—

Aoko-kun was crying too.  Or maybe that was just the rain.

“Kaito?  Let’s go inside, okay?  Your mom—she needs you—”

His mom…..  He could feel things now, and they *hurt;* the whole WORLD was full of hurt….. but his mom was hurting too.  The numbness would have been more comforting, but it was even lonelier than sitting outside in the rain.  If you had to be miserable, maybe it was better to be miserable in company…..

* * * * *

….. there was something on his face, cold and wet but not rain—and a little girl’s voice, whispering:  “-san?  Hei-san?  PLEASE wake up—Hei-san, if you don’t wake up soon I’m gonna HAVE to go get Rita-kun…..  Hei-san?”  His eyes flickered open.  Aoko?

No….. not Aoko….. and he wasn’t a little boy sitting in the rain…..  Memory came back in a rush, accompanied by dizzying pain and a feeling of panic; he attempted to move—

......... and after the lights dancing in front of his eyes had cleared a bit, decided that he was just *fine* where he was.  He blinked in the half-darkness, trying to work out just exactly where that might be….  The sight of the child kneeling beside him helped; he noted rather foggily that she seemed to be holding a wet towel in her hands, hence the cold dampness on his face.  *Let’s… hear it for logic; yay, I figured it out.  Now… WHERE am I and why do I feel so horrible--?*

*I remember—Ayumi’s.  She got me in off the balcony, and—that’s all.  Guess I passed out.  Not so cold now, though, and—where’s my hat?  Where’s my—oh.*  A weak flicker of amusement rose from somewhere inside him at the sight of the sodden white hat and monocle that lay beside him on the floor.  *Heh….. Nakamori’s been trying to unmask me for years, but a little girl beat him to it.*

He shifted very, very slightly; something slid down from his chest, a covering of some kind—and there seemed to be several colorful somethings attached to him here and there beneath it, fairly light but staying in place.  After a moment his rather blurry vision recognized them as…

*stuffed animals?*  “Ummm…. Ayumi-chan?  WHY do I have stuffed animals all over me?” he whispered, trying to keep the bewilderment out of his voice.  As the little girl came more clearly into focus, his eyes widened and he winced.  There were dark stains on the child’s pale blue pajamas, and her hands were blotched here and there with what he was certain was his blood.

*God, Ayumi…..  If there had been any other way, I would NEVER have gotten you mixed up with this.*

“I’m using them to hold your bandages on,” she whispered back; one hand scratched absentmindedly at some of the stains on the other.  “I couldn’t get your jacket off, so I put towels on you where you were hurt.  Did it work?”

He took stock of the situation, raising to one elbow slowly and carefully; it was hard to see in the dimness of the room, but he thought the majority of the bleeding had stopped.  “Think so…..  Thanks, ‘Yumi-chan; you did good.”  He tried to smile at the child, his mind beginning to work a little more clearly now that he was out of the cold and rain.

As his eyes adjusted to the low level of light, he realized with a slight sense of panic that Ayumi had picked up his hat and was looking inside, her face curious and absorbed; small fingers dipped into a pocket and brought out a small matt-silver metal ovoid.  “Hei-san?  What’s this?”

*Aaaak!*  “A-Ayumi-chan?  Please put that back… carefully, okay?”  He drew a deep breath, trying to sit up; no good, she’d have to help him—his shoulder was useless at this point.  “That’s a… it’s called a sonic grenade, and it’s dangerous.  Could you—please put my hat down?  Thank you…”  He closed his eyes briefly as another wave of dizziness swept over him.  “I promise I’ll explain everything in a minute, but—can you help me sit up first?”

Between the two of them they managed to get him scooted back a little, propped up in the alcove between the wall and the end of the little girl’s bed beside her toy-cupboard; the young thief blinked at a Yaiba action figure beside his head, wondering if it should look so fuzzy.  *Must be the blood-loss.*  Poor Ayumi’s rug was pretty messy by now—he wondered how they could fix it.  Maybe Aoko would know how to get blood-stains out…..

Aoko.  Aoko’s dad.  Nakamori.  The mole.  Morning.  Each thought hit with the force of a hammer-blow, and he bit back a yelp.

WHAT TIME WAS IT?!!?  It was still dark outside, but how long had he been on that rooftop unconscious?  How long had he been on Ayumi’s balcony?  “’Yumi-chan?  W-what time is it?”

The little girl kneeling beside him squinted across the room at a clock beside her bed.  “It’s….. two fourty-seven…”  She rubbed at her eyes and yawned a little.  “I’ve never been up this late before.  Hei-san?”

He was beginning to gently pry the mass of stuffed animals, towels and tape from his still-wet jacket, hissing to himself in pain.  “… what?”

“WHY are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid?  You said you’d explain…..  I thought at first you really *were* him, but—“

*Oh man… this is gonna be even harder than talking to the Shrimp was.*  He took a deep, steadying breath, not really sure how to handle this but certain that it was going to have to wait.  “’Yumi… I said I’d tell you and I will… but there’s one more thing I have to do first.”  A sharp stab from his side made him shut his eyes briefly in pain, and when they opened the expression in their depths was bleak and resolute.  “Do you—have a phone I could use.?”

 * * * * *

***bzzzzng***

***bzzzzng***

“Mmph.  Whmph?”  A sleep-fogged eye appeared from the depths of a pillow and a couch-throw, accompanied by the irritable “meww?” of a drowsy kitten.  The eye blinked, first at the time shown on the VCR across the room, then at the phone on the couch’s end-table.

***bzzzzng***

***bzzzzng***

“Rrrgh.  ‘lright, ‘m getting it—“  A hand emerged, fumbling for the receiver; the half-awake voice muttered unintelligible epithets as several books and a scattering of papers were knocked off onto the floor.

***bzzzzng***

***bzz-----***   “Moshi moshi... this had better be good…… whoever you are, do you know what TIME it—“

“Aoko?”  The tiny voice on the other end of the receiver sounded… odd.  As alertness began to seep back into the young woman’s voice, she recalled sleepily that her father had only come in only an hour or so before.  He never answered the phone at night—she always did, waking him up if necessary; once Nakamori was asleep, he tended to *stay* asleep through nearly everything save for his daughter’s rather extreme methods of breaking his slumber.

She frowned at the receiver.  “Kaito?  …is that you?  You sound—“  She wasn’t quite sure how he sounded, but it was odd.  And why on earth was he calling her at three a.m., anyway?

A deep breath from the other end of the line; he almost sounded as if he had been running or something.  “It’s me.  Aoko, listen—please, just listen to me for a minute—this is really, really important—”

She pushed a tangle of hair back from her eyes, grumbling slightly despite the distant alarm signals that were beginning to go off in the depths of her mind.  “It had *better* be important—it’s three in the morning!  Where ARE you?!?  Are you at home?”  As soon as she had asked, she wondered why; of course he’d be at home, they both had school the next day…..

Silence for a second or so.  “…Never mind that.  Aoko--- your dad, did he get home okay?”  She could still make out his breathing over the line, and a line of worry began to form between Aoko’s brows; was he sick?

“Home… he came home a little more than an hour ago; he looked exhausted, but he was okay, I guess--  Kaito?  Kaito, is something wrong?”

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time.  Unconsciously the young woman’s fingers began to twist the couch-throw between them, wrapping it tightly in her fist.  “….. Yeah, something’s wrong, but—I don’t—Aoko, I can’t tell you everything right now.  But listen, you have to—“

“Kaito?  What do you *mean* you can’t ‘tell me everything right now??’  If this is one of your tricks—“  She was beginning to get a little angry, although the worry was still there.  A soft ***thump!*** announced the arrival of Spot on the couch beside her; the kitten nudged his fluffy way into her lap, blue eyes blinking up questioningly at hers.  “Merrow?”  She scratched the feline’s ears absently, frowning.

“Aoko?  Can you…..  I know this sounds strange, but—can you just trust me?  Please?  This really is important—a lot depends on it.”  Kaito’s distant voice had a desperate quality to it now that she had never heard in it before; the incipient anger melted away under growing concern, and the kitten in her lap gave a faint yowl of protest as her fingers tightened a little too much.

“Aoko?  Are you still there?”

“I… yes.  Okay—just tell me.  What’s so important?”

“It’s your dad.  You’ve got to keep him from going in to work tomorrow—tell him anything, do anything—tell him you got an, I don’t know, an anonymous call that-- that somebody was planning to ambush him or something—“  His words were clipped and harsh, almost strangled by the importance of the point he was trying to get across.

Aoko’s eyes widened; suddenly the Inspector’s daughter was quite awake.  “Kaito?  What—how do you—WHY??  Do you want to talk to him?  Let me go get him up—”

The voice became even more desperate, and she heard him give a faint gasp as if something was hurting him.  “NO!  He—won’t believe me the way he’ll believe you.  Just… please, just stop him from going in, Aoko… please…  I’m not lying or trying to trick you—if he goes into work, he’ll die.  That’s the truth, Aoko—“  His words cut off  as he drew in his breath sharply; in the background the young woman could hear a soft, low-pitched murmur of concern in what sounded like a child’s voice, and she heard Kaito say something that ended in ‘Ayumi-chan’.

*’Ayumi-chan’?  Who’s Ayumi?*  “Kaito?  Kaito, are you okay--?”  She found herself clutching at the phone and leaning forward; Spot gave a plaintive yowp and jumped back onto the floor, tail lashing irately.

“I-----  Aoko, I can’t-----  Just tell him, okay?  Don’t let him go to work.  Call his office and have them check it out—the bomb squad, whatever--  Somebody’s gonna be waiting for him.  Please, Aoko?  Just--  Please?!?”

Her own breathing was coming harder now; mental images of possible reasons behind the desperation on the other end of the peculiar conversation were beginning to bubble up, and they weren’t helping to calm her nerves at all.  “Alright….. alright.  I’ll think of something.  But—Kaito?  You’d better have a really good explanation for this later—and where ARE you, anyway?  If you’re at home I can come over right now—“

“No, ‘m not at home.  --Aoko?  One more thing-----  I’m sorry.”

“’Sorry?’  What for?”  The sadness in his voice made her own tone soften a little.  “What do you have to be sorry for?  Kaito—“

“... I just… am.  Lots of stuff I should’ve told you… but I didn’t want you to be involved… too dangerous, and it wouldn’t be fair to you.  So much I wanted to tell you… and now I don’t know what’s gonna happen.  ‘m sorry, Aoko.  I wish….. never mind.”

“……….Kaito?”

“Won’t be at school tomorrow—I’m pretty sure about THAT, anyway—“  She could hear a faint laugh over the phone.  “Don’t tell Hakuba about this, okay? And—don’t tell your father who the call came in from—that’s really important.  If there’s any way at all… of salvaging this whole stupid situation…..  Aoko?”

“Kaito?  Where are you--?  I think I’d better get over there, you *really* don’t sound okay—“

“Aoko?  I really am sorry.  Did it because… seemed like the right thing to do… at the time.  Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t… not important.  Just… I’m sorry, you know?  Wanted to tell you, because I don’t know what’ll happen next.  Gotta go now—”

“KAITO!  Don’t you dare—“

The line went dead.

* * * * *

The receiver slid from weakened fingers to thump softly onto the floor, and a very weary young thief allowed closed his eyes and allowed his head to droop back against the wall behind him.

*Did it.  Now at least Nakamori-san has a fighting chance—he’ll listen to Aoko, hopefully at least.  And she won’t stop at just telling him—if she really thinks he’s in trouble, she’ll stop at nothing to keep her dad safe.*

The room was very quiet now; the only sounds were those of his breathing and that of the wind outside the glass doors as it blew the rainclouds into tatters, revealing fitful glimpses of the full moon riding midway down the sky.

*I almost told her, didn’t I?  I wanted to….. wanted to tell her about what I’ve been doing, what my life’s been turning into while everybody else is thinking about what they want to do after school.  I already know what I’m *going* to be doing, whether I want to do it or not-- those bastards that killed my father killed any other future I might’ve had as well.*

*Wanted to tell her.  Hate lies, and I have to tell so many, so many…..  So tired of lies.*

*So tired.*

He shivered, his good hand going to his wounded shoulder and then down to his side.  The bleeding did seem to have stopped… in the morning maybe he could figure out a way to contact Jii, or even his mom---  He couldn’t stay at Ayumi’s indefinitely.

Ayumi--?  Kaito opened his eyes hastily; he had almost forgotten that the child was there.  She sat scarcely a foot away, her knees drawn up and her arms clasped across them, sleepy eyes fixed on his face.  ‘Yumi-chan?”

The child came fully awake with a slight start.  “Uhh?”  She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

Running one hand across his forehead, he tried hard to think.  “Ayumi?  You said—something about a ‘Rita-kun?’”  Moments later he had a better idea of the situation.  A rather hard-sleeping babysitter was konked out on the couch in the living room, Ayumi’s parents were both away on business trips, and she had no school the next day—it was a Teacher’s Work Day or some such.  *He* did, though, but he sort of suspected that was a moot point right now….. 

*Hope Aoko can think of something to tell Hakuba—*  But that was the *least* of his worries, wasn’t it?

Rita-kun, the neighbor girl who was looking after Ayumi had classes; she planned on stopping in at lunchtime to check on her charge, but the little girl had been given strict instructions to stay in the apartment during the hours she was away.  That solved a few problems, he guessed—at least he wouldn’t be dodging a suspicious babysitter during the day.

God, he was so thirsty.  He remembered reading somewhere that people who lost a lot of blood tended to suffer from dehydration—  “’Yumi?  Could you get me a glass of water?  Very, very quietly—we don’t want to wake up your friend in the living room…”  The little girl nodded, then climbed to her feet.  “And… why don’t you change into some new pajamas?  I think those got a little… messy…  Maybe you’d better put the phone away too.”  His heart seemed to sink to the soles of his feet at the sight of the blotches and smears on the innocent surface of her flannel PJs—the incongruity of the sight was hard to bear, as was the guilt it brought forth.

*Can’t think about that right now; I can beat myself over the head with it later.*  The little girl nodded drowsily, scooping up the cordless phone and pulling another set of clothing from a drawer before she padded softly out of the room; he heard a bathroom door close quietly behind her somewhere in the hall and hoped desperately that Rita-kun, however nice a person she probably was, didn’t wake up.  He did NOT feel up to dealing with a hysterical babysitter just then.

*Think I’ll just sit back here for a moment and catch my breath.  So tired…..*  His eyes closed as some of the nervous energy and adrenaline that had kept him going seeped away.  Now that he had accomplished the most important thing on his mind, a little of the pain from his wounds lessened as muscles relaxed and taut nerves loosened.

*I’ll just rest for a bit, just ‘til Ayumi comes back—---*  Weary eyes slid closed as his breathing calmed and deepened…..

* * * * *

Ayumi buttoned the bottom button on her pajama shirt with freshly-washed hands; it was good to be wearing dry, clean stuff.  But—her wet clothes were sticky and stiff with stains and she couldn’t leave them in the bathroom…  With a scowl the little girl scooped up the offending garments, intending to carry them back into her bedroom.  Maybe Hei-san could figure out what to do.  She would’ve woken Rita-kun up, but…..

As she took the glass of water from the sink and turned to go, a faint ***BREEEEP*** came from one corner of the bathroom; she had left the cordless phone on the counter and tossed a towel on top of it—no wonder it sounded so muffled.  Only the receiver had a ringer on it, so Rita-kun had probably not woken up…..

“Um, moshi moshi?”  The child tried to sound grown-up, wondering who would call at such a funny hour.

“H-hello….. who is this?”  A young woman’s voice seemed to be on the other end of the line, sounding rather uncertain.  “I was trying to reach Kuroba Kaito….. is he there?”

Ayumi hesitated, a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach.  ‘Kaito’??  Like in ‘Kaitou Kid’??  “Ummmm…..  Are you his friend?”  Her eyes brightened a little.  “Are you the one he just called a minute ago?”

“Yes!  Is he there?  Can I talk to him--?”  Whoever it was sounded terribly relieved.  “Wait—before you take the phone to him, can you tell me where this is?  I mean, where are you both?”

“We’re at my home.  I live in an apartment—he got hurt, so he came here because…. I guess because he needed to call you.”  The little girl thought hard, remembering a certain necklace that Hei-san had shown her a few days earlier.  “Are… you Aoko?” she asked slowly; “Did you just have a birthday? and…..” she fought back a giggle, which escaped a little anyway.  “…and do you chase him with a mop sometimes?”

“Um…. Yes, that’s me…..  Is this ‘Ayumi-chan’?  Wait, wait—you said he got HURT?!?”

“Uh huh.  He’s resting right now—” (she had seen Hei-san’s head beginning to nod as she slipped from her bedroom) “—but you can talk to him in the morning if you want.  I don’t have school tomorrow—the teachers have a Work Day, so I’ll be here.”  At a distant snore from the living room down the hall, the child closed the bathroom door with her foot and added softly, “I can’t talk much more—I don’t want to wake up Rita-kun, ‘cause Hei-san said not to.”

“Hei-san?  Who’s Hei-san?  And why doesn’t he want you to….  Ayumi?”

The child yawned.  “I think he’s Kaito.  That’s who called you, right?  Only I call him Hei-san.  But he’s him… I think.”  She yawned again.

(And she did think they were the same, somehow.  In the depths of her sleepy mind, three figures seemed to merge together easily, seamlessly into one:  Hei-san who had saved her from Ojiwa-sensei, Hei-san her friend and teacher, and the gentle-voiced visitor that had landed on her balcony so many months past.  After all, he was a magician, wasn’t he?)  In the end, it was a simple thing.

However, it didn’t seem to be so easy for Aoko-san; Ayumi could practically hear the young woman on the other end of the conversation thinking.  “I….. all right.  I have to take care of something in the morning, but—I’ll be over a little later, okay?  What’s your address?”

The little girl hesitated for a moment (her mother had told her not to tell that to strangers)—but this was Hei-san’s friend, and he was here already….. so it was probably all right.  As Hei-san’s friend wrote down the address to her apartment, Ayumi felt a strong wash of gratitude run through her—she was good at lots of things, she knew, and Conan and Rin both had told her she was smart….. but she was still glad to know a *grownup* was coming to take care of her wounded teacher.  There was so much going on that she didn’t understand…..

“Ayumi?  Are you still there?”

“Oh!  Uh huh—sorry, I was just thinking about stuff.  What?”

“How… badly is Kaito hurt?  What happened to him, did he say?  And WHY doesn’t he want you to wake up—who did you say?  Rita-kun?  Who’s *she*?”

“She lives down the hall; my mom and dad are out of town, so she’s staying here.  He—I’m not sure how hurt he is.  He stopped bleeding, I think, and he looks like he feels better but—“

Aoko made an indecipherable noise through the phoneline.  “What?”

“—nothing…. Just—just keep going….. how did he get there without her knowing?”

“He flew onto my balcony, I think.  That’s how he got here last time, anyway-- if it WAS him, and I think it was.”

“…………….”

“Aoko-san?  Are you there?”

“Ayumi?  Listen, okay?  I want you to answer me very carefully:  HOW does he fly?”  The young woman’s voice sounded rather strange.

Adults asked the strangest things.  Why on earth would THAT matter?  Ayumi blew out her breath in a sigh, then answered.  “I only saw him fly one time, but he was on a white kite-thingie.  He was getting away from the police helicopters then, and he flew away like he was a bird—only he looked more like a paper airplane.”  She giggled again, remembering.

The other end of the phone was silent.

“Aoko-san?  Can I ask you something before you go?”

“I….. yes….. go ahead.”  She sounded even funnier now, almost like she was trying not to cry or start yelling.

“Why do you call him Kaito?  He said I could call him Hei-san…..”

From the other end of the conversation she could hear a very deep breath being taken.  “That’s a very, very good question, Ayumi-kun.  When I get there, I hope he’ll be able to answer it.  I’d like VERY much to come right over right now….. but there’s something important I have to take care of first.”  The voice calmed a little, becoming firmer.  “You go back and tell Kaito—tell Hei-san that I’ll be coming in the morning, all right?  And tell him he had better not go anywhere, or I’ll----- well, just tell him that if he disappears I’ll put my mop where the sun doesn’t shine, okay?”

The little girl frowned.  “Where’s that?”

“He knows…… Good night, Ayumi-kun.  And thank you.”

“Aoko-san?”

“What?”  The young woman still sounded very upset.

“HOW did you know my phone number?  I didn’t hear Hei-san—Kaito—tell you…..  I don’t think he knows it either…..”

“My phone has an Automatic Redial feature.  Goodnight, Ayumi-kun.”

“Good night…..”  The little girl blinked at the satisfaction in the answer as the connection cut off.  Aoko sounded awfully nice but she ALSO sounded like she had a bad temper.  But then, Hei-san probably already knew that, if she chased him around with mops…..

Padding softly down the hall, she hung up the phone in the kitchen; Rita-kun was still snoring away on the couch—when she slept, she really *slept.*

As she slipped back into her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her, Ayumi listened intently; good, Hei-san wasn’t snoring.  If he was going to sleep at the foot of her bed, at least he’d be quiet.

His head jerked back up as she knelt beside him, holding out the glass of water; her stained pajamas dropped unnoticed onto the carpet beside him, rolled into a neat wad.  “Hei-san?  Kaito?  Here you are…. Drink this.”  Gratefully he took the glass of water from her hand, swallowing it down in huge gulps.  “Do you feel better now?”  She leaned forward, pressing the back of one hand against his forehead like her mother always did.  “You feel sort of warmer now—you were awfully cold when you came in—“

The empty glass suddenly slipped from nerveless fingers as he stared at her with widened eyes.  “Ayumi--?  W-WHAT did you just call me?”

She thought.  “Um…. Kaito?  That’s what Aoko-san called you.  She said she wants to ask you about why you have both names when she comes here in the morning….. and she told me to tell you that if you disappear, she’ll put her mop where the sun doesn’t shine.  Where is that, anyway?”  The child cocked her head to one side curiously as she picked up the glass.  “She wouldn’t tell me—“

“Uhhhhhh…..”  Hei-san seemed almost to deflate, his face nearly as white as his clothing.  Closing his eyes he asked her carefully:  “Just… when did you talk to Aoko?”

“When I was in the bathroom just now; she called back on Automatic Redial.”  He sounded almost as upset as his friend had.

“Oh.  And—she’ll be here in the morning?”

“Uh huh.  And you can’t disappear, or she’ll put her mop where—“

“Yeah, yeah, I got that bit.”  Hei-san groaned softly, putting both white-gloved hands over his face.  As he shifted slightly on the rug he dropped one hand to the floor to steady himself—and something small and silvery fell out of his sleeve.  His eyes were still closed; curiously Ayumi reached down to pick it up.

It seemed to be a piece of jewelry, a big one; it was shaped like a tear, and in the broken moonlight that was beginning to flood in from the balcony door as the stormclouds blew away, she could see that the glittering stone mounted in the center was green.  It sparkled in the moonlight like a rainbow, almost as if many more colors than just *green* were in the stone—

“Hei-san?  What’s this?”  She held it up; as his eyes blinked open she noticed some sort of sticky stuff on the back of the piece of jewelry and wiped it away on her sleeve; *Yuck!*

He jerked slightly, reaching out hurriedly to take it back.  “Oh, great—now I’m aiding and-- and abetting in the corruption of minors…..  ‘Yumi-chan, that’s something you shouldn’t touch—“  Carefully he wiped it clean with the white glove on his good hand, afterward tugging it off with his teeth and dropping it into his lap.  The pendent glimmered brilliantly between his fingers as he turned it this way and that way, a faint smile crossing his face.

“Pretty thing, isn’t it?  There are… a lot of pretty gems in the world, though….. and I’m just after one.  Just one…..  You’d think that after all this time, I’d be able to… FIND it, but….”  He sighed, his hand dropping.  The moonlight glittered off of the green surface, casting tiny glints of light across his lap.

Hei-san’s eyes drifted closed again; his voice was very soft, almost dream-like as he spoke.  Beside him the little girl sat very still, listening.  “Hei-san….. Kaito?” she said softly, and he nodded.

“My father—that’s what he called himself too, before me; he looked for it first… and They got him when… when he refused to do what they said.  I’ve been looking too.”  He sighed, a painful sound that rasped through his lungs.  “So many different gems….. the Golden Eye, the Blue Birthday… the Black Star… the Savannah Marquis, that stupid dog-collar, the Sultan’s Luck, the Green Dream……. and all the ones my father checked out before me….. so many, and there’re so many left, too.”

His fingers traced the edges of the gem, caressing it gently.

“So much work to get them, and then… when they aren’t the right one… I always give ‘em back.  Always.  ‘Cause they’re never the Pandora Gem….. never.”

Ayumi’s forehead wrinkled at the sadness in her friend’s voice.  It was so strange, just sitting here in the fleeting shadows and the light of the full moon that was peering so brightly through the clouds outside now--- just listening to Hei-san’s half-understood words.  And the gem lying in his lap….. it was so pretty.  So bright—

-- *really* bright--

“Hei-san?  Kaito?”

“Mmph?  What?”  His eyes stayed closed; he almost seemed to be falling back asleep.

“Why is it glowing?”

At that they *did* open.  “Why is what glowing--?  Wh—“

He caught his breath, staring down at his lap.  Then, seemingly without volition, the fingers of his right hand curled around the gem lying there and he raised it up to hold it high in the full moon’s light. 

It glimmered like foxfire, casting a brilliant, scarlet-tinged rainbow through the greenness and over the faces of the little girl and the young man…..

And he whispered, “I found it.  I *found* it…..”

*****************************************************************************

To be continued…………

Ysabet’s Notes:  Sooooo… was that a surprise, or did you expect it?  Gomen ne, either way—it wasn’t what I originally planned to do (it was one of those I’m-taking-a-bath-and-BING!-suddenly-a-lightbulb-comes-on-over-my-head ideas….. **evil laugh**  And I even finally had peacocks in this chapter too!  As for THAT little dream-sequence, well… yes, I *did* intend it to have the same level of ‘reality’ (whatever that means) that the Conan-Shinichi-Ran-Rin dreams did in Second Wind.  Don’t ask me how… but after all, maybe they were dreaming first and Ayumi elbowed her way in?  I may write these things, but that doesn’t mean I’m in control all the time, I can guarantee that.

Got all sorts of oddities planned, some of which are still lurking in my subconscious and haven’t allowed themselves to see the light of day as yet.  This one’s turning out rather peculiar, but I’m enjoying the trip.  Hope y’all are too.  Mucho Thankees to those brave souls who beta-read this and caught my errors before it saw posting:  Hauntress, Magik, Loqui, Becky, Icka and anybody else I’m forgetting (sorry!).  And HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ICKA!!!