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Relative Truth
by Becky Tailweaver
File 5: One Truth
Kaito Kuroba had chosen Kyozou's mansion as the scene of this heist for several reasons. One, the prize was big and valuable. Two, its security system was extensive and complicated but not too difficult to crack. Three, the structure of the house and the layout of the grounds was such that a thief could not be cornered very easily. Four, there weren't that many hired guards on duty at any given hour, and their response time was relatively slow.
Finally--and most importantly at this point--its location was within a resonable distance of Shinichi Kudo's residence.
By now, Kaito's small passenger no doubt recognized the buildings they were passing over. Kudo was still as uncommunicative as ever, his small body still taut with silent fury. Wondering how he was going to handle what had to come next, Kaito began to scan the nearby rooftops for a good place to set down.
He'd done his calculations well; his hang-glider could safely accomodate Shinichi's rather insubstantial mass without significant effects on its performance. But although the slight extra weight made the glider move a bit faster through the air, it also ensured that gravity's force would assert itself that much sooner.
Kaito picked out a landing spot on an oncoming roof--a short building of only a few stories, with a flat, open top. There were no hiding places, only one roof access door, and a simple fire escape ladder; no loose objects or scattered stuff lying around--nothing for little "Conan" to kick at him. Simple, exposed, and relatively safe to both of them--the closest to neutral ground they were going to get tonight.
He angled in to land, loosening his grip on his passenger slightly; he didn't want Shinichi to feel trapped or confined once they set down. It was already bad enough he'd been grabbed up and hauled off without so much as a by-your-leave--already bad enough he'd had to submit to his adversary's grasp this long. Being carried around like this had to be damn undignified, Kaito mused, especially for an independent young man who wasn't really a little kid.
Sensing his bearer's intent, Shinichi was struggling to get loose even before they came to rest. Teeth gritted, he fought to wrench himself out of Kid's grip, thrashing nearly as hard as he had upon their escape from Kyozou's mansion.
As soon as his shoes touched the roof, Kaito released his hold on the boy entirely. Shinichi kicked away from him, landing in a scuffling mixture of running and scooting as he strove to put distance between himself and his enemy. He was a good fifteen feet away before he felt safe enough to stop, panting from his sudden exhertion, glaring daggers at the glacially calm youth who stood, unaffected, on the other side of the roof.
They stood there for a few moments, both on-edge--though you'd never know it looking at Kid's face--both wondering what the other was going to do next. There was a long silence as they took measure of one another, Kaito preparing himself to speak, Shinichi trying to settle his heartbeat and calm his anger.
Shinichi wanted to speak--wanted to yell, even--to ask what the hell was up with Kid this time, what had he planned, why was this heist so weird, why had he rescued him...? But he couldn't get his voice to work; his mouth would open and nothing would come out. He was too confused--the whole thing at the mansion had been weird, nothing like Kid's other heists--and too upset from his brush with disaster.
Kid's face didn't shift from its small, sardonic smile when he spoke. "So...I wonder who won this round, huh? Was it you or me? I got the goods, but then you threw that diamond back to them, so I lost that..." The smile twitched up just a bit. "And you succeeded. You did it--you got all the way to the prize. I knew you could, even if you stumbled at the end."
Kid's voice somehow knocked loose the logjam in the back of Shinichi's throat--mostly because his brain went wild at Kid's words, a dozen jumbled pieces suddenly falling into alignment. "You...you...set all that up?" he croaked, eyes going wide with disbelief. "The whole time...that was all...arranged...?"
"Heh...I wouldn't say that," Kid replied with a short chuckle. "I just chose a stage and made sure you'd show up at the right time. The rest was entirely up to you."
"You planned all of that?" Shinichi demanded, his voice coming full force now. "You intended for me to get into that mess? You bastard, what's your game this time?"
"No game, Kudo. A test."
"What?" the boy all but snarled. "That's what this is about? Just to see what I would do? Just to make me one of your tools--or your scapegoat?" His little-boy voice began to crack shrill with emotion. "Your stupid 'test' made me out to be a thief! You--!"
"Hey!" Kid cut in, his voice suddenly abrupt--more sharp than Shinichi had ever heard it. "I didn't do any of that. You're the one who decided to go into Kyozou's property. You went all the way into the house. You opened the vault and took the diamond. All I did was watch you--I wasn't even anywhere near you when you cracked the safe." His expression shifted, becoming...rather thoughtful. "You did it all on your own, Shinichi Kudo. I figured you'd go all the way--I knew you had it in you."
"But...but I...no...!" Shinichi's face had slackened into something akin to horror, jaw dropping as Kid's words struck home. "I didn't mean for...!" He stared up at the other youth, eyes almost pleading. "But...how...how did you know...that I'd...?"
"...that you'd sneak in and go right for the prize?" A half-grin replaced Kid's usual sardonic little smile. "An eagle always learns to fly, Kudo--it's in his nature. I think you've earned your secret, don't you?"
"The secret...from the message...? What...?" Shinichi actually took a step toward the phantom thief, his need to know overriding his previous wariness.
"'There is only one truth,'" Kid replied, his voice turning firm and serious. "I'd tell you right now, but you'd never believe me. You want to know the truth, Kudo?" Blue eyes pierced blue eyes, grimly honest. "Go ask your father why you're a thief."
Shinichi gasped. "My father--?"
Kaitou Kid was already stepping up onto the rim of the roof. "When you understand, maybe we can trust each other enough to help each other out. Whadd'ya say, huh?" His grin returning, the young thief winked at the boy, tweaking the brim of his hat jauntily. "I'll see you around, Shinichi!"
And he stepped off the roof.
Shinichi stared at the place he'd been for a half-beat before his muscles finally unlocked. He charged forward, gasping. "Kid--wait!" he nearly screamed. "Come back here!"
The hang-glider was swooping away; Shinichi sprinted along the roof-edge until he came to the end of it, jumping up to the rim and teetering dangerously--but the glider was already passing out of his sight amongst the buildings.
"Dammit...!" he snarled, sounding nothing like a little boy. "Damn it all!"
Panting, he finally saw fit to climb down from the edge, stung by frustration and defeat. Kid's words burned him--it was true, all of it; he'd gone into that house on his own, walked through the security systems, even taken that thrice-cursed hair-jewel all of his own accord! The truth hurt, searing him--and coming from the mouth of a thief--!
He leaned against the cold wall, filled with shame. He'd been thrilled to defeat Kyozou's security; his panic at the alarm had stemmed from his own belated sense of guilt for his own wrongdoings. A true detective was supposed to be above reproach! Where had his brain been during all of that? On a temporary leave of absence, while the stupid teenager took the helm and nearly got him busted for robbery...
Crap. I'm completely irrational right now...too much adrenaline, too much stress... I need to get home.
Tense and weary, he pushed off the wall and headed toward the iron railing of the fire escape, beginning the long climb down to the street. His exhaustion made him doubly irritable; he murmured curses upon each step of the ladder, hating the way his short legs made his descent that much more difficult.
He knew where he was, at least; thankfully, Kid hadn't dropped him off in an area that he didn't recognize. A few blocks from here was the street that would lead him to his own house, and Professor Agasa's next door.
Aw, great...I left the Professor waiting for me back there... With a groan, he hoisted his backpack to a more comfortable position and started off down the sidewalk at a drained trot. If he was lucky, no one would spot him--it was pretty damn late for a seven-year-old to be wandering the city streets, and cops would get suspicious.
God, if he even glimpsed a police car tonight, he'd freak out--he just knew it. They'd seen him in that house--they had cameras, those men had to have spotted him somewhere along the line, and he'd almost run into that security guard. If the police were looking for a miniature thief, they might question the presence of a little boy running along the sidewalk at midnight.
And he hadn't brought his skateboard. There had been good reasons not to--but he sure wished he had it now. He could be home in a minute or two.
Home. Damn, he'd hardly slept in his own home since the night before That Day at Tropical Land... He found himself suddenly missing his old bed, his old house, his old life. He usually missed it to one degree or another at random times--whenever he stopped to think of what a drag it was to be stuck in this damned small body--but in that moment, with his state of exhaustion and his emotions all twisted up, he felt the loss more acutely than he had since the first night he'd become a child again.
That first night, he'd silently cried himself to sleep, curled into a frightened, miserable, lonely little lump under the blankets...
Tears pricked in the back of his eyes--he wouldn't let them fall, but they made their presence known. He was homesick for his old way of life, so familiar and uneventful and simple...and he was getting tired already--damn little-kid legs weren't made to do so much all in one night.
And he had done so much...too much...sneaking into another man's house, sabotaging a security system, breaking into a vault and actually making off with a valuable heirloom. He couldn't understand what had posessed him to go that far; the strange guilty glee, the thrill of the game--he'd been looking forward to catching Kid, but once he'd gotten in, his focus had shifted from the chase to...something he knew was wrong.
He could've gotten into so much trouble--! Kid and his games, his secrets, turning his life upside down...!
And now it was starting to rain. Perfect.
Homesick--and in a way, heart-sick--Shinichi kept putting one foot in front of the other even as he increased his pace to a run, not wanting to be completely drenched. Memories of his first night flashed through his head--the terror, the confusion, the anguish, all wound up into a cold ball in his stomach, counterbalanced by the hot knot of pain on his head that throbbed with every heartbeat, every step; the rain had seemed the only thing left that was real that night. The whole thing with the drug was a dream, it had to be--too crazy, to utterly awful to be true...!
God, please, I want my life back! he prayed silently, heaving breaths hissing through gritted teeth as he ran through the rain--cold rain against his face, once again seeming like the only genuine thing left in existence. Would it be too much to ask if this was all just a bad dream? Please, just let me wake up tomorrow in my own bed, back to normal. God, let me be me again...I don't care if I never become a famous detective--Kid and his secrets can go rot--I just want my life back, I want to be with Ran...I just want to go home...please...!
Just like that first night, he stumbled and fell, going down hard on the wet concrete with a short yelp of pain. Gasping, he picked himself up, cradling his stinging palms, wincing at the ache from his bruised knees, fighting off a renewed urge to just lay down and bawl. This night was hell...cold, wet, rainy, miserable, lonely hell...
When he looked up, he found himself sitting just a few yards down from Professor Agasa's gate. Salvation from hell--a warm dry place and he could just go curl up somewhere and forget...
Unlatching the gate took more effort than he really wanted to expend, but somehow he did it. He stumbled inside, not really seeing what was in front of him, kicking off his shoes and dropping his wet pack unthinkingly in the entryway. His coat joined it soon after that, and he tottered into the darkened hall with little real direction.
The light came on, stinging his eyes and bringing him back to the present. Ai was standing there, dressed in a robe and looking slightly disheveled, her eyes narrowed disapprovingly--until she took in his soaked and exhausted condition.
"What the hell happened to you?" she demanded, looking unusually startled.
"Nothing," Shinichi croaked. "Call Professor...he's still out there..."
"This doesn't seem like nothing," Ai retorted. "You look like you got tossed off a bridge, Kudo. I knew you were going to get into trouble--"
"You shut up!" he snapped spitefully, coming awake with uncharacteristic ire. "You don't know anything! Just leave me alone!"
He shoved past her without another word. Taken aback, Ai stepped aside quickly, her startled expression actually tilting into surprise. She'd never seen such viciousness from him, and it made her hesitant to ask what had put him into that state.
Shinichi went for the living room and the familiar couch, not really giving a damn if Ai never spoke to him again. She was the person who'd invented the drug that did this to him--even if he'd never cared to resent her for that before, he was sure doing it tonight. He felt like he hated everything tonight; his situation, his enemies, his friends, even himself. Especially himself...
He stripped out of his wet clothes, everything but his shirt and jeans, dumping discarded items on the floor and kicking them aside. Throwing himself down on the couch, he curled up with his back to the world and burrowed into his own thoughts. Thoughts of the heist tonight, his intentions gone awry, his own thievery and deceptions, Kid's promised secrets... They chased themselves around in circles, hurting him with his own memories, looping between shame and bitterness.
At least he didn't cry himself to sleep this time. Although he came damn close...
Ai avoided the living room entirely, reasoning that it was best to let sleeping tigers lie. Something had happened to Kudo tonight, and though she didn't know what it was, she did know that it had to have been something truly disturbing to upset the normally even-tempered Shinichi. And if it was that bad...did she even want to know?
She tried not to think of the anger, torment, and frustration that had been written plainly across a face far too young to hold such painful emotions. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she dialed Agasa's remote phone to let him know that their detective had returned to home base.
He woke sour and groggy as if from a muzzy nightmare, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling in a place full of unfamiliar sounds. Blinking gummy eyes and licking parched lips, he breathed in the smells of coffee, solder, and chemicals as he tried to bring himself to full consciousness, struggling to recognize his surroundings.
Growing awareness brought back a rush of hazy memories from the night before, a muddled whirl of jumbled and painful emotions; he hadn't awakened at the Mouri house so his fuzzy brain confusedly reached for an explanation. For a moment his tangled mind desperately grasped at the faint thin hope that it had all been a bad dream--everything, from the night at Tropical Land to the hellish evening at Kyozou's. Gasping, he quickly pulled his right hand up to look at it, wishing beyond hope...
No...wishes never came true--not his. Hopes dashed, he gazed at the weak, skinny little hand of a seven-year-old boy, scraped from his fall on the sidewalk.
Groaning, he let his hand fall limply back to the couch--no, the blanket; when had somebody put a blanket over him...?
"Oh, you're awake," said a quiet female voice--Ai. "I'll go get the Professor."
The best response he managed was another faint moan as he laboriously pulled himself into a sitting position, squinting around. The Professor's house...that's right, I wandered in here after...
After that thrice-cursed heist that Kid had arranged--after his rescue, and that weird, puzzling, disturbing conversation with the thief.
The heavy steps coming into the living room heralded the arrival of Professor Agasa. "Well, good morning, Shinichi!" the older man greeted him in a voice that was too loud for his already upset mind. "Did you sleep well? Ai-kun said you were in a state when you came back last night--did you run into Kid after all? I waited hours for you, and then there were police cars showing up in droves--thank goodness Ai-kun called when she did! What happened back there, Shinichi?"
Shinichi gritted his teeth, rubbing his eyes and trying to get his brain back into some semblance of order so he could think. "Ugh...nothing happened," he replied hoarsely as the Professor sat in his armchair. "I...well...the mansion got all stirred up..." He hesitated, swallowing. "I got out after Kid but I lost him--he didn't make off with his target, though...and then I came here..."
He blinked at himself then, realizing he'd just flat-out lied to Agasa, his only ally in this. When had it become imperative to hide this from his old neighbor?
Since he'd become so ashamed of himself for what he'd almost done last night...
"Go ask your father why you're a thief."
His intake of breath hissed through his teeth; he couldn't meet the Professor's eyes any more. Damn that thief, this is all his fault...
...but didn't you feel so proud of yourself when you touched that beautiful diamond?
Shut up!
He rubbed his eyes again, hoping to hide whatever expression had arisen from his dark thoughts. Swallowing another lump of guilt in his throat, he tried to change the subject. "Professor...what time is it? I should get ready for school..."
"Ah...don't worry about that, Shinichi," Agasa replied. "I called the school this morning and told them you were ill. It's about ten-thirty now...you were so very tired last night and it seemed like you'd been through a lot..." The older man leaned forward, concerned. "Shinichi, did something else happen last night? You can tell me--you know I won't--"
"No! Nothing else--it just rained and I got really tired from running all the way home!" He hoped his voice didn't sound as strained and shrill as he thought it did. Truth...what happened to the truth?
"You want to know the truth, Kudo?"
"Professor, I...I need to go...somewhere..."
The older man's bushy eyebrows went up. "Where? You can't go far--I had to call Ran-kun this morning too, and she's coming over to see you as soon as she's out of school."
He frowned, wincing. Ran... "Not far, just next door. I just...need to go home for a little while. I won't be too long..."
The Professor blinked. "I suppose that's alright."
The uncomfortable tone in the man's voice made Shinichi look up again, at last realizing he was being selfish and unfriendly. "I'm sorry, I...just need some time to myself..."
"I see. You don't want breakfast, then? Do you need anything to eat?"
"No, I just need to go." Shinichi shoved to his feet, stumbling slightly until his legs warmed up. Agasa's eyes followed him worriedly until he was out of the living room.
He saw Ai in the hall, leaning out of the kitchen door. Stopping to glance at her, he felt a flash of guilt for his treatment of her last night. "Oh...I'm sorry about last night, I was just..."
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Kudo," she retorted. "I told you it was your problem."
Stung, he closed his mouth as she vanished back into the kitchen. His feet bore him to the front door on a wave of self-loathing--God, he was being a total bastard to everyone around him, even lying to the man who'd done nothing but help him all this time!
With his shoes laced up and his slightly-damp jacket on, he hurried out the door before he offended anyone else. Out in the daylight, breathing the sweet air, he began to feel a fraction of his load lift--the brightness of the sun and the coolness of the breeze felt good. It was midday, the sun was high--no thieves operated at times like this; there were only normal people going about their normal lives on this normal day.
When he reached the front door of his own house, the long-abandoned Kudo residence, he heaved a sigh of relief. He trotted inside with easy familiarity, pushing aside his mind's tendency to dwell on how big everything seemed--he'd rarely spent any time at his house since That Day.
Leaving his coat and shoes at the door, he switched on some lights just to chase shadows out of any dark corners and make the house feel inhabited. Speaking of which, the air was a trifle musty; glad to have something to occupy his mind, he went about choosing a few windows to open. The air was damp and fresh from last night's rain shower, and it made the house seem alive again.
The answering machine was less swamped with calls than it had been at times previous; he let it play, half-listening to weeks-old messages--some from Ran, some from his old high school buddies, some that were just inane calls from salespeople or acquaintances. Even though he was several feet shorter than he should have been, it felt reassuringly good to be meandering around his own house, just doing some ordinary things.
He dusted off the coffee table and straightened the couch pillows. He pulled a chair up and checked the kitchen sink, washing a couple of cups that had been left unattended by someone--his parents most likely, from their last visit. It was quite a hike to put the cups away in the high cupboard, but he did it all the same, just because, refusing to think about how short his legs were. He stopped in at the bathroom to make sure it was tidy, then trotted down the hall to the master bedroom and poked his head in; seeing nothing out of order he shut the door firmly. Back in the living room, he almost got out the vaccuum, just because, but figured he might not be able to push it. So he fetched the broom instead, and swept the kitchen floor.
Just because.
It was normal. It was restoring his sanity, little by little.
This was his house. His haven, his domain, his island in the ocean of life--a rather stormy ocean at this point. This was the one place left where the harsh realities of the outside world had not yet intruded.
He wandered upstairs, his feet taking him into his room. He heaved a nostalgic sigh as he ran his fingers over the keyboard of his silent computer, across the homework papers left forgotten on his desk. That literature assignment from second period...he'd never finished it; he'd gone to Tropical Land with Ran, promising to do it when he got home... Shuddering, he forcefully pulled his thoughts away from That Day and moved to his bed, spreading up a corner of the somewhat rumpled covers. His fingers touched the books on the shelf at the head of his bed almost lovingly; they were his books, not his father's--his own personal Sherlock Holmes collection, bought with earnestly saved allowance and pay from odd summer jobs. They were dusty now, but kept in fondly good condition--although they still bore the marks of an ardent reader in the dog-eared pages and creases on their spines.
From the books, his eyes drifted to the picture frame on the other side of his shelf/headboard. The photo was of himself and his parents, taken during a summer spent in America--he'd been sixteen, and Ran had come along; they'd gone touring and bicycling and eating at restaraunts and even swimming and hiking. His parents made him go to America with them almost every summer, but that had been one of the best summers in his memory; with Ran beside him, the adventure had been complete. They'd had such fun, and he'd felt so protective of her; his English was fluent where hers was halting, his knowledge of customs familiar where hers was untried. He'd had to help her along, translate for her, introducing her to his American pals and favorite places to go. She'd even held his hand sometimes, when she'd gotten nervous or shy...
God he missed those days.
Drat--there he was, doing it again. He wanted to feel better, not drown himself in woes and regrets. He blinked himself back to the present, back to gazing at the picture again. Though it would take hot pokers and a torture rack to make him admit it, he missed his parents. He loved them, even with all their oddness and eccentricities. It sort of hurt that they had gone abroad, spending so much time away from the place he had always considered home. They had offered him a place with them in America; they had wanted him to come along, but he couldn't go--he couldn't leave Ran. If he moved to America, started going to school there, only came to Japan on vacations...that would make it forever. This place would no longer be home.
No; as much as he loved his parents, this house would always be home. Wherever Ran was--that's where his home would be.
Hell, he was living with her now...
Dammit, do not think about that. Just the happy things right now...that's all I want to handle...
His eyes were drawn to his father's face in the photograph; handsome, familiar features graced with his usual secretive, knowing smile and intelligent eyes--Shinichi's intelligence had come from that man; he'd inherited his father's razor-sharp wits, quick intellect, perfect memory, flawless reasoning...
"Go ask your father why you're a thief."
The memory of Kid's voice brought reality crashing back in on him.
Shinichi gritted his teeth in aggravation; he'd wanted to forget last night entirely. It hurt to remember how close he'd come to actually stealing something--how far over the line he'd stepped in his pursuit of Kid.
What did his father have to do with him not-quite-inadvertently almost stealing a piece of antique hair jewelry? Granted, he wouldn't even have been able to get inside the house without his father's instructions on opening windows with alarms...
He blinked.
Come to think of it, most of what he'd done in that house had come from the skills his father had taught him. And his father sure knew a lot about that sort of thing; he knew about locks and alarms, about disguises and steath. He was always sneaking into places--hell, he turned up in the oddest locations at the oddest times when he was around...
His blink was replaced by a soft gasp. "No way..."
Dad can do all that stuff...almost like Kaitou Kid... Wait...what does Kid know about my father? Is that his secret--that my father was...is...could be...? No...no way...!
"Go ask your father why you're a thief."
Shinichi was out of his room and downstairs in a flash, heading for the telephone that was conveniently right there at the base of the stairs. His fingers blurred over the buttons, picking out the familiar digits of his parents' number in America.
The phone on the other end rang...and rang...and rang... He was starting to get impatient, wondering what the holdup was--when the line picked up and a drowsy female voice said, "[Hello?]" in sleep-muffled English.
"Mom? It's me--lemme talk to Dad, quick!"
"Huh?" Yukiko Kudo yawned on the other end, somewhat befuddled as she switched to her native tongue. "What? Who is this?"
"I need to talk to Dad." He pitched his voice as low as he could, trying to sound as much like himself as possible--drat, where was his bow-tie when he needed it? "Mom, it's me, Shinichi!"
"Oh..." His mother yawned again. "Shinichi...honey...do you know what time it is?"
"Never mind! Just put Dad on the phone, please!"
"Eh...alright..." There were muffled noises on the other end, and his mother's tired voice saying distantly, "Dear, your son wants to talk to you."
After a moment, his father's crisp--but slightly sleepy--tones sounded. "Shinichi? What's up, son? I would have thought you'd realize what the time difference is, here--"
Shinichi took a breath, gulping, then spoke. "Dad, why am I a thief?"
There was utter silence on the other end. Some part of Shinichi's mind registered that this was, quite possibly, the first time in his memory that his father had been shocked speechless.
After a short eternity, Yuusaku Kudo cleared his throat. "Hrm...what...what makes you ask that, son?" His voice was quick and precise, like usual, but there was something...strained about it.
Shinichi took another breath, this one a shaky quavering inhalation--before the whole story poured out in a jumble. "Dad, I ran into Kaitou Kid--he sent me this email almost like a challenge and he talked about this secret--see I was after him last night and I broke into this guy's house with all the things you taught me--Kid was watching me, he said it was a test--and I almost took something, Dad, this big diamond with gold and stuff--Kid set it all up just to make me do that--I thought I was after him but I kept going on and on and I kept doing stuff I shouldn't have--he had to save me 'cause I screwed up, I can't believe that--and he said he knew I'd do that because eagles fly and he said to ask you 'cause...you'd know why I'm a thief...and... Dad...?"
His nervous mind finally realized that something was wrong. His father would usually have interrupted him by now, demanding that he slow down, compose his thoughts, and speak logically. But there was nothing--silence, only his father's slightly ragged breaths on the other end of the line.
"Dad?" His tremulous query sounded just like a frightened little boy's, high-pitched and unsteady. "Dad...why? Why would he say that? Dad...?"
"Shinichi...what did you do?"
Yukiko's voice came up in the background, unintelligible but sounding concerned. With a gulp, Shinichi was quick to reply, voice cracking. "I didn't mean to, Dad, it just happened--but I threw it back, I didn't let Kid take it! But he was there, he said I would have--why, Dad? Tell me why!"
"Son, this isn't something you need to worry about--"
Shinichi felt a sudden flash of anger; his father was not going to brush him off this time. "Dad! What do you know about Kaitou Kid--and not just what's in your files! Are you connected with him? How does he know about you? What does he know? Dad, tell me!"
"Listen--just listen to me for a second, Shinichi." Yuusaku's voice was definitely strained--more tense than Shinichi could ever remember hearing it. "This doesn't really concern you. It's just some old business... Look, when I married your mother my family was...involved in some things that I'm not really proud of. It would have been bad for her, even dangerous...I made some difficult choices back then, but I had to get out of that life. For you mother--and for you, son. Believe me, this is for the best--you don't really need to concern yourself with it." His tone picked up, made a half-cracked attempt to be jovial. "You've got your own 'little' problems, now, don't you? Don't fret about this, Shinichi."
"Dad...dammit..." His seven-year-old face looked almost frightening with such vehemence. "Won't you give me just one goddamn straight answer in my life?"
"I'm serious, Shinichi. These are my problems, not yours," Yuusaku asserted gravely--before his voice lightened once more. "And it's a terrible hour to be calling, you know. Your mother and I need our sleep--don't worry so much, son. Everything'll be fine."
"Just answer me for once--!"
"I'll talk to you later, kiddo. Bye!"
"Dad, wait--!"
The line was dead.
Shinichi slammed the phone into the cradle with a curse, whirling away, hands fisted. "Damn him, won't he ever tell me the truth?"
Teeth gritted, he fisted a hand in his hair and tried to think. What the hell was his family involved in? What was he involved in? Something illegal--something do do with Kid...?
Wait...was Dad...a thief...? No...no way...he's always been a detective...right? He writes mystery novels...used to help the police when he was younger...but... What if...what if he was...? Oh God, what if that's why he spends so much time abroad? If he did something a long time ago, and he's still wanted for it...oh no...!
The terror of that final thought sent Shinichi scurrying to his parents' room. Ripping open the door he'd so carefully closed just a while before, he dashed to the bedside and yanked open the drawer of his father's nightstand. He found papers and small belongings--he read over each, tossing it aside when he was done. Nothing there--so he pulled a shoebox of letters from beneath the bed and went through those. Letters from Yukiko, most dated after Shinichi was born.
The next target was his parents' closet. He tore everything down, piling left-behind clothes on the bed and rifling through boxes left on the topmost shelf; adrenaline gave him the strength to scale the shelves and bring them down. Nothing there--nothing important.
When the room was torn apart, he stood there for a second, momentarily at a loss--before he dashed out again, eyes wild and focused.
His next stop was his father's study/library. His father's desk drawers contained nothing but novel manuscripts, most of which were old and already published by now. At the bottom of the center drawer, there was one old-looking car insurance registration, torn in half--and the half with the name on it was completely missing. The filing cabinets also contained nothing but inane things--the family finances, legal papers, Shinichi's report cards, house plans, retirement information for Yukiko's parents...on and on, nothing suspicious. He did find some family records in the back of the bottom drawer; his parents' marriage certificate, their birth certificates, several legal forms pertaining to citizenship and residence--and his own birth certificate as well.
The oddest thing about it was that each of these documents was a photocopy, not an original.
Maybe his parents kept the originals with them...?
The family photo albums were stored in the library, and he went through each one at a rapid pace, paying attention to details he'd never noticed before. There were so few pictures of his parents' wedding, and the first part of their marriage was nearly blank. The volume of photographs did not increase until at least a year after Shinichi himself was born--then, it seemed, the books were full of all sorts of events from his young life. Even images of the real seven-year-old Shinichi Kudo, a perfect copy of Conan Edogawa minus glasses--but his eyes were full of the innocent sparkle and playful laughter of a true child.
But there were no clues here--none that he could find.
Shinichi's mind then turned to the boxes of junk in the upstairs hall closet--and the attic. What else lay in those hidden places, besides his father's tools? Thieving tools...
With a violent shake of his head, he ran upstairs, panting and sweating by now. The hall closet was first in line--mainly because it was on his way to the attic--and it was swiftly torn to pieces just like his father's room and desk. Nothing but his father's old costume supplies; wigs of many styles and colors, hats of all types, clothes from the sensible to the questionable. The only papers he found were pages of notes on people Yuusaku had been imitating, or investigating, or whatever--all with no dates.
When the closet was turned inside-out, the last stop was the attic. The attic ladder/stairs were as difficult as ever for his short legs to scale, but this time he paid no attention to his handicap. The attic was full of trunks and boxes, all-but-antique furniture, his old crib and playpen...he'd just been up here a few days ago, searching through his father's boxes for tools. This time, he was looking for evidence.
But just like the hall closet, a seasoned detective wasn't the one looking through the containers--it was a flustered teenage boy in the body of a child, searching for the truth about his father. He left chaos behind him, piles out of upended boxes, papers and books and knick-knacks scattered everywhere. He didn't stop for a second to think about the mess he was making.
For the longest time, he found nothing; he was down to shoving already-searched boxes aside and scanning for anything he might have overlooked--anything he might have missed. He even managed to move an old loveseat, nearly breaking his back in the process but somehow getting it out of the way and burrowing into the big stack of furniture in the back corner of the attic. He even looked through the empty drawers of his grandmother's vanity table, somewhere in the mix.
Somewhere back there, behind the stacked chairs, beyond the disassembled dining room table, beneath the dust cloths and years' worth of attic filth, he found a trunk.
An old trunk, somewhat nicked and scratched and faded with time, made of velvety black-finished wood and mounted with brass hardware. It was buried under the junk in the corner--and it was also locked by a large, ornate padlock.
With renewed fervor, Shinichi set about relocating the pile of furniture; such a handsome trunk packed away beneath piles of dust cloths and moldy old antiques was beyond suspicious in his mind. Seven-year-old hands weren't the best tools for moving heavy wooden tables, chairs that were much bigger than he was, or a vanity-dresser that weighed many times what he did.
His desperation gave him strength. Somehow, sneezing in the dusty air and covered in perspiration, he labored inch by inch to shift the clutter out of his way. Occasionally he could spare a thought or two to wish he were seventeen again--this would've gone much quicker--but most of his brainpower was wrapped up in freeing the chest from its furniture prison.
Once a path was cleared, he grabbed the brass handle on the nearest end of the trunk and dragged it out of the corner, into the light. His prize unearthed, he pulled the last dust cloth off the top of the chest and threw it aside, revealing the beautiful wood-and-brass trunk in all its glory. Wiping sweat from his brow, he spared the heavy padlock a half-smirk.
Too bad Dad taught me to pick locks...
One of his father's numerous lockpick sets had been in a nearby box; all Shinichi had to do was fish it out and go to work.
The big lock turned out to be worthless--a fake, it came undone in a snap. The tricky part to the trunk was that it had two hidden locks on either side of the front, concealed beneath small hinged portions of the brasswork, which had to be released simultaneously--a difficult task without the keys.
It's just too bad Dad taught me how to pick locks really well...
The trunk was open in only a couple of minutes.
With a grunt, Shinichi heaved the lid back, eyes widening as he took in the items inside. They were arranged neatly and in order, obviously packed away long ago and meant to stay that way.
Shinichi tore into the tidy arrangement without a second thought. First to come out was a load of disguise equipment; rubber masks, cracked and flaking by now--containers of makeup, dried out with time--folded-up wigs of real human hair, obviously hand-made. Under all that was a layer of tissue and some mothballs; beneath that was a collection of what looked like...confetti? Dried flowers? Bouquets, wands, cups, decks of cards, a weird-looking gun-like weapon, small packages full of unknown gizmos, several black feathers, and a pair of black mens' dress shoes.
Shinichi had to lean into the trunk, his feet coming off the floor as he nearly fell in every time he reached to grasp another item. His eyes widened more and more the deeper into the chest he went. This stuff is... No, it couldn't be...no...
Halfway down into the trunk was a container/platform that separated the top compartment from the bottom; it could be lifted out to reveal what lay below. Once that was out of the way, Shinichi found a hatbox and a folded-up black tuxedo, and doubled up in the tuxedo jacket was a red silk shirt. Beneath the tuxedo pants lay a light cape, black with red lining. The bottom of the padded, velvet-lined box was empty except for the hatbox--and when the lid of the hatbox was off he found a gorgeously well-made top hat, black with a crimson band.
What the hell is all this? This can't be...
There was still nothing here, nothing that he needed. He dropped back to the floor, hands resting on the rim of the trunk...and found himself staring at the interior of the lid, at the fancy red velvet and the embroidery...
Gasping, he lurched around the side of the trunk, small fingers searching the inside of the lid for something that might open--anything that might give him a clue--! Top center, he found a little hook-latch hidden in the gold metallic embroidery; undone, a small flap in the lid fell open, dropping a slim, sealed file folder into the bottom of the trunk.
Clambering up on the side of the trunk once more, he scrabbled for the folder while trying not to fall headfirst to the bottom of the chest. Once he got ahold of it, he jumped back and plopped down on the floor right there, shaking fingers carefully breaking the taped seal.
The thin folder contained only one document. It was something official, by the paper and print; he turned it over to discover that it was a birth certificate--an original copy, watermarks and all. His birth certificate.
But there was something wrong; he puzzled over it as his tired brain strove to assemble the discrepancy. For a few moments he just stared at the document, trying to understand what was amiss. He started to get it when he read his name--his name...
Oh God, my name...
The kanji for the last name--it wasn't Kudo. It was very clear, in perfect official calligraphy...
Shinichi Kuroba
No...no...this can't be happening...!
It couldn't be right...the photocopy in the files downstairs wasn't like this--it read "Kudo" clear as day. But if this is the original, then...why is the copy...?
"God...Dad, what did you do?" his voice creaked out hoarsely as he began to understand. You faked my birth certificate...you doctored all those photocopies...! Dad, why? Why did you have to lie like this? What did you do--and who are you? Who am I?
"Dad..." His face was twisted into a grimace of confusion and anger. Still clutching the incriminating document, he half-fell down the attic steps and raced downstairs, launching himself at the telephone. He hit Redial without pausing, his harsh breaths coming more from his roiling emotions than his aching lungs. The other phone rang and rang... Endlessly, Shinichi waited for a response, but even after six or seven rings, there was no answer.
After nearly twenty rings, he finally gave up. Setting the phone back on the cradle, he stumbled to sink nervelessly to a seat on the stairs. The certificate fell from his fingers and fluttered to the floor, landing face-up, staring at him accusingly with his fake/real name written out in black, unforgiving ink. He stared at it blankly, reading the kanji over and over...and began to shake. Pulling his knees up, he pressed his face into his arms and silently cried.
It's all a lie...my whole life has been a lie! There's no "Kudo," just years of deceit...Dad...why? Why...? He was alone with his misery, sobbing softly until he felt weak and drained, his mind still spinning as painfully as before. All a lie...all of it...all a lie...
Indeterminte minutes passed; he heard a noise, but it didn't register until he heard the voice.
"Well...I guess you know, huh?"
Startled, Shinichi jerked up, staring. He found himself looking into a mirror--a fun-house mirror of his older self, his image slightly altered. For a crazy instant he thought he was looking at Shinichi Kudo--but no, this wasn't Shinichi; they just looked enough alike that it was eerie. The newcomer had shaggier hair a shade darker, features just a bit more rugged, shoulders a scant touch broader...they weren't identical, but the similarities were extraordinary.
Most striking of all, their dark blue eyes were exactly the same.
The same in all but manner; the stranger's eyes sparkled with vibrant, impish naughtiness--subdued at present--where Shinichi's would sometimes glimmer in muted mischief, at best. The young man was squatting perhaps six feet away, elbows resting on his knees, regarding the boy with an expression that was equal parts relief and sympathy.
Shinichi gulped, frantically wiping his eyes--not knowing that his attempts to do so left dusty blackish smudges across his face. "Wh-who are you?" he stuttered, at a loss as to why this person was addressing him at this point, or why this person was in his house.
"A friend, I promise." The newcomer gave him a crooked smile. "My name's Kaito. Kaito Kuroba."
It took a second for that to sink in.
When it did, Shinichi nearly choked on his own tongue, gasping out his words. "But--you mean--that Kuroba--?" One hand flung itself out to point at the document still lying on the floor.
Kaito glanced at the paper, then scooted forward to pick it up and look it over. "Heh, well, whadd'ya know..." He grinned up at the boy, looking rather pleased. "Yeah, I'm 'that' Kuroba. I told you you'd find your secret, Shinichi."
That drew another gasp from the boy; he stared at Kaito in abject confusion at first, reaching into memory for a face--and more importantly, a voice that wasn't being leashed into calm, cool tones but was instead speaking directly and fearlessly...about a secret. And there was only one person who'd ever spoken to him about that secret...
Shinichi jolted, drawing back, eyes widening in shock. "You're...you're Kaitou Kid?"
Kaito spread his palms wide, his grin never fading. "Guilty as charged."
The next sound out of Shinichi's mouth was a sort of choked, squeaky warble, half yelp and half question. He stared at the youth before him with an expression that came very close to horror, equal parts stunned realization and utter disbelief. When his mouth finally consented to move according to his scrambled commands, the best he managed was a rather strangled stutter. "K-Kaitou Kid--Kuroba--b-b-but--is that--c-can't be--!"
Kaito looked rather amused at Shinichi's lack of coherence as the boy's words stumbled to a halt. "It's okay, Shinichi. Really, you can calm down," he said with a slight snort of laughter. "Yes, I'm Kaitou Kid. And I'm a Kuroba--Kaito Kuroba, just like I said. I can even show you my student ID if you want; the last name's the same as yours."
"Same...as...mine...?" With a gulp, Shinichi managed to compose another halfway-articulate phrase. "Then we're...?"
"Yeah, we're related." Kaito's face gradually became serious, his tone going from jovial to solemn in a few heartbeats. "It's been a secret for a long time--even I didn't know. Surprised the hell outta me. It's kind of difficult, but once you understand you'll realize why I came to you."
"Wh...why...did you come here now...?"
"I was sort of watching and...I saw you having a hard time with this, so I thought...well, I should come and explain things. I honestly didn't think you'd take it so hard; I didn't mean to...put you through this..." Kaito cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable, glancing away for a second before his usual demeanor returned. "Anyway...hey, can I sit here? Thanks." He stood and moved closer, taking a seat a couple steps below Shinichi on the stairs, putting their eyes at the same level. "Whoa! Take it easy, I don't bite."
Shinichi had jerked away from him at his approach, backing tightly against the banister, eyes going wide at the other youth's proximity. He was slightly terrified; he didn't know what this guy--his enemy, Kaitou Kid--might do, and he was at such a disadvantage right then. His shoes were at the doorway and his watch was at Agasa's; he was a scrawny little child and his opponent outmatched him by several feet and a lot of weight--if Kaito decided to harm him there wasn't a lot Shinichi could do to stop him. Maybe run, scream, and pray, and even then he wasn't fast enough to get away--not from a grown teenage boy, and certainly not from Kaitou Kid...
"It's okay, I won't hurt you," Kaito said, moving slowly and scooting away a bit to give Shinichi space to maneuver if he felt he had to. "I didn't come here to pick a fight--I didn't even bring any of my usual gear." He blinked, reconsidering. "Well, just my bird and--" The aforementioned white dove seemed to pop out from behind Kaito's head, perching on his shoulder. "--oh, a deck of cards..." He set the stack on the staircase beside him. "Uh...hm, and..." He reached into thin air, and with a flick of his wrist produced a perfect, uncrushed rose. "Ah, that. Thought I forgot something when I was unpacking my stuff." Another quick motion, and the flower disappeared. "Sorry," he said with a grin. "I'm saving that for someone--gotta keep it nice."
Kaito's constant, relaxed chatter helped put Shinichi somewhat at ease; the little impromptu magic show changed his fearful gape to a mere stare, really more of a dazed gawk. His eyes focused on the quiet white dove. "I...I thought you had a lot more birds..." he rasped softly--a silly statement, but it was the first non-panicked, non-stuttering thing he'd said in the last few minutes.
"I do." Kaito smiled, more than happy to indulge Shinichi's bewildered curiosity if it would help the boy relax. "I just don't carry 'em all around when I don't have to--it isn't comfortable for them to be cooped up in my jacket for a long time. Mostly they just hang out around my house--drives my mom nuts, having to clean the windowsills all the time..." He chuckled, privately glad to see a faint smile in response from Shinichi.
As if bored by his master's lack of attention, the dove on Kaito's shoulder fluttered lightly to the stair carpet, strutting its way over to Shinichi's leg. It pecked gently at his pants, then hopped up to his lap, cooing softly. Shinichi stared at the bird for a moment before tentatively reaching out to pet the dove's smooth feathers.
"Heh, I thought he'd remember you," Kaito commented quietly. "That's Shiro. He's one of my best--damn smart for a pidgeon, and he's really well-trained. I was so glad you saved him that night in Osaka--I'd hate to lose him like that."
Shinichi blinked, looking from the dove to the youth and back again. "This is...that bird?"
"Yeah." Kaito grinned. "Hey, I think he likes you."
For a few moments, Shinichi just stroked Shiro's downy feathers while the dove voiced its contentment in gentle pidgeon-murmur. Kaito remained still, waiting, not wanting to push him or upset him any more than he was. After a while, the boy took a deep breath that only shook a little...and finally looked up at Kaito with clear eyes.
"So, Kaitou Kid...Kaito Kuroba...why did you come here?" he asked at last, his voice slightly rough but clear and steady.
Kaito finally let out the breath he'd been holding since he'd first introduced himself. "It's a long story, really, but the gist of it is that...I thought we could help each other out. We're both after the same thing, really...just going about it different ways."
Shinichi's eyebrows went up. "But...wait, you're a thief, and...you're after the--?"
"The Black Organization...or maybe whoever's behind them, I'm not sure," Kaito replied, eyes darkening. "All I know is that they're out there, and whatever they're after is big--it goes beyond money and drugs and all the usual crap."
"But...how...how did you get this kind of information?"
Kaito shrugged. "You and I just move in different circles." His grin returned somewhat. "That's why I thought we could help each other. We've both got a score to settle."
"Really?" The usual alert, wary skepticism in Shinichi's eyes was gradually returning as his keen mind began to recover from the morning's shocks, its recuperation bolstered by the thought of the Black Organization.
"Really." Kaito didn't want Shinichi to go into his Detective Mode, all guarded and suspicious--at least not yet; the boy had to stay open and inquisitive for a little while longer. He sighed; time to lay all the cards on the table. "I'll tell you what I know--I'll tell you how I found out about you, and this whole family business. I'm being honest, here, y'know--the least you can do is listen."
Shinichi bit back the mistrustful retort that had been brewing in the back of his throat. If nothing else, Kaito was right about that; he'd come to see Shinichi as the supplicant, asking to be heard out before judgment. He'd even told Shinichi his name...if that was the truth, of course. "Alright," he said, still absently petting the dove in his lap. "I'll listen."
Kaito leaned back against the wall of the stairway, eyes going distant as he remembered. "Okay, let's see...from the beginning. Well, I first got curious about you way back when you almost cornered me during the Clock Tower incident..."
And thus began the story of their first contact...and what happened after.
To be continued...
AN: Please don't lynch me, please don't lynch me, please don't lynch me...
Next chapter is on the way--Kaito's side of the story, as told to him by Jii. I'm working as fast as I can, please continue to be patient! Thank you all for the reviews and support so far!