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angelicsentinel · 2 years ago

Text

Heartlight

Title: Heartlight Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito Author: AngelicSentinel Rating: Teen Relationships: Kudo Shinichi/Kuroba Kaito Characters: Kudo Shinichi, Kuroba Kaito Additional Information: First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Romance, Fluff, Making Out, Light Angst, Alternate Universe - Soulmates Word Count: ~6,000 Summary:

"Why seek me out?" Shinichi asked.

"I brought gifts for everyone on the nice list, and you missed yours."

Shinichi leaned back, rubbing at his cold hands before tucking them under his armpits. The night had grown colder, and he'd left home without an overcoat. "Wouldn't think I'd make the nice list, being a critic and all." He jiggled his foot against the frosted grass.

Notes: This is my second gift for @altumvidetur for the 2022 KaiShin secret santa as hosted by @dcmkkaishinevents. Written for the prompt "first kiss."

So uh, I wrote two because I became blocked on one and wrote another just in case, got stuck on the second, but then managed to finish the first one. Since I had done so much on the second already, I decided to finish it and post both. Hope you enjoy!

As always, mirror on Ao3

The large hall was dark and foreboding, lit only by moonlight and the dim light coming from the heavy double doors that led to the study.

The moon had always reminded Shinichi of the Kaitō KID. It was enticing with its pale allure, outshining the stars, but ever so distant in its manner and form, even at perigee. Likewise, KID was always larger than life, ever so present, flickering and playful, yet there was infinite space between them. Even so, Shinichi couldn’t help but be caught in his orbit.

He watched the moon's pale face through the tall arched windows of the mansion, thinking about him. That mischievous smirk, that irritating attitude of his, the way they made such a good team—

Now they really only came together at heists, and it was just challenging each other.

Shinichi surprised himself by missing the times they worked together, playing off one another’s strengths. He liked the challenges and facing off against him, it was just—

Something was missing. It wasn't enough, not anymore.

"Ah! Shinichi-kun!" Inspector Megure said as he came out of the study, drawing Shinichi's attention away from his thoughts. "I didn't think you'd still be here. Didn't you say you had somewhere else to be tonight?"

Shinichi blinked. "What?" Then he looked down at his watch. "Augh!" He bounced on his feet, looking from the scene of the crime to the front door, torn.

Megure shook his head. "Let us do our jobs. You've helped as much as you possibly can. Go."

Shinichi didn't waste any time, racing out the door and towards the museum.

“Damn it!” Shinichi cursed, glancing at his watch. He was so late!

He darted up the steps and ducked under the cordon, lifted up by a helpful officer, and sprinted into the museum, after which he slowed his steps to a walk.

Shinichi’s footsteps echoed off the marbled floor throughout the tall arches of the hallway, and he raced to the entrance of the gem exhibit where he paused at the open arched door.

The task force’s shouts were loud as they dogpiled the place KID was just standing. Still, they were almost comforting. There was something to be said for habit, and this was one Shinichi was long used to.

KID backflipped off a display case with a wild laugh, and the ghost of a smile curled across Shinichi’s face. He stayed behind the cordon at the Beika Museum of Natural History with the rest of the crowd. Just this once, Shinichi was in no mood to go chasing after the thief. He had declined to go to the heist at first, but KID’s heists invariably cheered his increasingly melancholic moods.

KID was always a delight to watch. Just being in the presence of his sheer exuberance improved Shinichi’s mood immensely. Dressed for the season with a glowing red nose and antlers sticking out of his hat, KID danced around giving the task force particularly dangerous presents. Some of them exploded with goo. Others had glitter bombs. Still others contained thoughtful gifts, and it was this last thing which made KID’s prank so successful. The task force never knew which of the gifts were rigged, and he had prepared one safe present for each task member, so they never knew if they were opening a legitimate present or not.

Even Inspector Nakamori had fallen for it; he was inordinately pleased with his brand new tie KID had given him and was fighting not to show it. He was also covered with shaving cream, which had somehow managed to miss his new tie. KID was skilled in that way.

An intermittent gleam from KID’s chest twinkled in and out every time he looked at Shinichi, but it had to be a trick of the light. It couldn’t be what he thought it was.

Shinichi closed his eyes, letting the noise wash over him, and inhaled deeply. He'd watched KID's performance. It was time to go. He slipped through the crowd and out the door into the humid winter night, leaving the shouts behind him. The damp chilled him to his bones, and he fought off a shiver. Still, the cold was bracing, and it helped him feel better.

Only the slightest sliver of crescent moon shone overhead, and the lights from the city drowned out its futile gleam.

Shinichi meandered through Beika, hands in his pockets and shoulders tucked in against the cold. He could go home, but why? It was also cold, and large, and empty. At least here the sounds of the city surrounded Shinichi, burying him in the white noise. He took a turn for the park.

This late at night, Beika Park was dark, lit only by distant streetlamps. Shinichi avoided the lit areas and sat down on a bench behind a row of trees on the bank of the Serpentine, watching the calm, quiet waves in the dark. A curtain of diamonds shone above in the black.

Two stars fell in synchrony, arcing across the sky, leaving a brilliant fiery trail. Shinichi watched them until they disappeared, and made a wish.

Behind him, leaves rustled in the low wind. They masked quiet footsteps, so Shinichi wasn’t aware he was no longer alone until someone spoke.

“You arrived late, and then you left my heist early. Was something lacking in the presentation?" KID asked quietly. Something bright flashed behind Shinichi.

When Shinichi turned, it was gone. "No. It was a wonderful performance," he said, watching KID’s posture relax before turning back around, staring at the dark waves on the lake. He leaned forward on his arms. "I didn't think you'd notice," he added.

"Of course I did," KID said, walking around the park bench and sitting down next to Shinichi. "A good artist always keeps track of his critics. I also noticed you didn't assist the task force tonight."

"I didn't feel like it," Shinichi said.

"I see."

A measured silence.

"Why seek me out?" Shinichi asked.

"I brought gifts for everyone on the nice list, and you missed yours."

"That's what makes you the nicest," KID said, and wrapped his cape around Shinichi's shoulders; he startled at the touch, though, and KID laughed and said, "Easy, easy. It's just me." In his other hand he held out a deep blue box, covered with silver sparkles and a glittering, silver bow.

Shinichi narrowed his eyes at it. "And it's going to have shaving cream or exploding glitter in it—"

"No," KID said, shifting so their bodies touched, and pulling his cape more tightly around Shinichi as he shivered. His side was almost painfully warm, Shinichi had been out in the cold so long without a coat, and he couldn't help but press himself more closely against him. That in turn made KID wrap an arm around his waist. "It won't, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Shinichi said, and opened the box. Inside was another box of midnight blue, the outside made of crushed velvet. It looked like a box in which jewelry came. "This isn't some kind of box-in-a-box trick, is it?"

"No," KID said again, and something in his voice made Shinichi glance up. If Shinichi didn't know better, he'd almost say KID was nervous.

Running a finger over the box, Shinichi opened it. The contents were what he thought. It was jewelry: a silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant covered in white stones. The center held a heart-cut blue stone. It also had a latch; Shinichi flipped it open to see a preserved four-leaf clover.

"KID, is this some kind of joke?" Shinichi asked with a grin. It was a good one. Much more subtle than the ones he gave at the heist. The locket was beautiful.

KID was not grinning. Instead, he said, "I am giving you my heart, Detective."

It took Shinichi a long moment to process, and then he blushed all the way down, suddenly hot all over. He was now aware that he'd pressed KID the length of his side, seeking out his heat, and the way they were sitting, KID's cape wrapped around Shinichi, was cozy and intimate. His heart rabbited in his chest.

Idiot, he said to himself. It's just KID.

"But we're both men?" he said, at least partially to give himself more time to think, but KID merely tightened his grip on his waist.

"That, I believe, is precisely the point," KID said, reaching up to cup Shinichi's jaw, running his thumb across his lips.

Shinichi parted his lips in surprise, and KID leaned in, tilting his head. He searched his eyes for a moment, and finding what he was looking for, he pressed his lips to his.

Soft, was Shinichi's first thought. His second was warm. Then Shinichi had no more thoughts at all as KID mouthed his bottom lip and kissed him again. He kept kissing him, his mouth firm and insistent, his grip tight around his waist, and Shinichi kissed back, just as insistent, pressing forward, seeking him out.

Somehow Shinichi's hand found its way into KIDs hair and he pinned KID back against the bench.

Was this what he was missing? Is this why he went to KID's heists? Searching for that spark that he and Ran had lost?

They broke away only when they could no longer breathe. Shinichi was practically in his lap. KID had his gloved fingers curled against his own lips, watching Shinichi, stunned, his cheeks scarlet.

Something cold slid against Shinichi’s collar as he leaned back, and he looked down to find KID had put the locket around his neck at some point when they were kissing. Shinichi grasped it in his palm. “Your heart, huh?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought you stole things, not gave them,” Shinichi said, dropping the locket. It fell against his chest, warm from his palm.

“I’m intent on stealing yours,” KID said, tracing nonsense figures against Shinichi's neck before moving down to his chest.

“Idiot,” Shinichi said. “Like you don’t already have it.”

KID paused for a moment before continuing to stroke his chest, drawing circles around the locket. “I admit I wasn’t certain,” he said. “Things between us are…contentious.”

Shinichi laughed. “That’s one way of putting it,” he said, and then kissed the corner of his mouth, letting his lips linger against his skin.

“Ah,” KID said, leaning into it. ”In that case, it is only polite that you have something in which to fill the hollow left behind,” KID murmured against his lips.

Shinichi tilted his face into his, so their faces were pressed together. That was well and good until Shinichi brushed his nose against KID's cheek.

"Cold!" he said, pulling away and rubbing at his cheek. He plucked something out of his pocket and stuck it on Shinichi's nose. He nearly went cross-eyed trying to see what it was.

Ah, the red reindeer nose, blinking happily. KID quickly followed with some earmuffs that had antlers attached to the top; Shinichi hadn’t realized it, distracted as he was, but the cold had been burning his ears.

“Better?” KID asked, tilting his head.

Shinichi blinked. “Yeah,” he said, slightly nasally from the flashing nose. “But I look ridiculous.”

“Better than shaving cream or glitter?” KID asked, eyebrows raised.

“Much.” Shinichi agreed with that much, he supposed. “I guess it’s pretty clever to work with what you have.”

“Hmm, it is freezing out here,” KID said. “I should probably get you home. You’re not properly dressed.” He attempted to extricate himself from Shinichi’s grip, but Shinichi wouldn’t let him go.

“I don’t want tonight to end,” Shinichi said, leaning his head on his shoulder. “Not just yet.”

“You, clingy?” KID shook his head. “I never would have guessed.”

“I’m cold. You’re warm. If you pull away, I’ll be cold again,” Shinichi tightened his grip around him. “It’s logical.”

“I see. Purely logical. Makes sense.” KID was being indulgent, playful. A wave of fondness rushed up and filled Shinichi’s heart. "But we can't stay out here forever, hmm."

KID was silent for a long moment, finger tapping his kiss-bruised lips. By this point, the cold had left Shinichi almost entirely. He was almost hot, surrounded by his warmth. "Can I trust you?" he asked Shinichi, and how was Shinichi supposed to take that?

"I don't think you should," Shinichi said, for lack of anything better to say, and when KID didn't say anything after a long moment, Shinichi added, "It is Christmas, however, and since I don't have a gift prepared, anything said or done on this night I'll take to my grave."

KID licked his lips. "Anything?"

"One night only," Shinichi said, already regretting it. For good measure, he reached into his pocket, turned his phone to airplane mode, then shut it off.

"Very well," KID said. "Then I have a place we can go." He slid his hand into his, and entwining his fingers with Shinichi's, he stood. He wrapped his cape tightly around Shinichi like a cloak, then in a puff of smoke, the rest of his outfit disappeared, turning into something dark, his silk hat now a ball cap pulled low over his eyes. Then he pulled Shinichi into the night.

The night was still, punctuated only by the yowl of a startled cat and quiet, distant traffic. KID's wandering path sent them through the park, down a couple of blocks, through some adjacent alleyways, and finally, up a fire escape of a small, older building. Shinichi didn't think he could remember the way even if he was asked.

KID's lockpicks made quick work of the half-size access panel, and then he pulled him into the room.

Surprisingly, it was a full-size room, if a bit small, and mostly finished, sheetrocked and wired. Only the rafters were left open. Someone had made it a small apartment, and it hadn't been KID.

He had, however, run differing strands of blue and white festive lights throughout the rafters, so they dangled down like stars. In the corner were a couple of futon and a pile of pillows and blankets, looking like a little nest.

Another area was closed off with a wall and half-open door; it was a bath. An actual bath with a full bathtub. In the corner was another closed door and a space heater.

A small television sat on a milk crate and it was surrounded by stacks of books and a few old newspapers, neatly folded. A half-size refrigerator, microwave, and hotplate completed the ensemble.

"I take it this is a bolt hole?" Shinichi asked.

"One of them, yeah," KID said. A threat if Shinichi ever heard one.

"One of the first, and probably the most established, if I had to say so." KID's tense posture told Shinichi he was correct, but threatening him wasn't his intent, so he said, "You don't have to worry. I'm as good as my word. Your secret is safe with me."

"Is that so?" KID murmured, pulling him close.

"Yes," Shinichi said, settling his arms around his lower back.

"Be careful," KID said, tightening his grip. "That might make me inclined to share more than I should."

"I won't make use of anything that happens tonight. Anything," Shinichi stressed.

"Including my face?"

"Anything," Shinichi repeated, heart in his throat.

He swallowed thickly as KID gave a half smile and took off his hat and monocle, tossing them to the side. He took off Shinichi’s nose and earmuffs, then leaned over for a kiss, one that Shinichi was only too happy to receive.

"What about it, detective? Do I pass muster?" KID asked.

Shinichi cupped his face. Still real. "More than," he said.

KID kissed him again, firm but chaste, until Shinichi was breathless again.

Then he turned, pulling off his black clothing and then his suit coat, shrugging off the dark cotton trousers and hanging the coat up in the corner so it wouldn't wrinkle. His belt followed, his shoes tucked neatly under the coat.

"Getting undressed?" Shinichi asked weakly, heart in his throat, excitement thrumming through his body.

"Getting comfortable," KID said. “It’s supposed to be below zero until well into the morning. Since you left home without a coat,” here he shot him a glare, “I figured we’d wait here until in the morning.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you have something pressing.”

The room cut off the wind, and it was small enough just their body heat made it tolerable, though still cold. KID arranged the space heater and turned it on.

“No, nothing pressing,” Shinichi said. “Though I do wonder how we’re going to spend the time.”

“Do you?” KID asked, his voice dropping an octave. “I can think of a few things.”

Shinichi blinked, caught flat-footed. “Um.” His mind had gone completely blank at the suggestive tone to his words, and suddenly it was hard to breathe again.

Idiot, he said to himself once again. It's just KID. KID looking at him with promise in his eyes, with desire.

Yeah, that line didn’t work on Shinichi the first time, either. He wrapped his cape tighter around himself and swallowed again, shifting on his feet.

How had they gotten here? “One night only,” Shinichi said, almost a whisper, staring at the futon, and so he missed the despair that crossed KID’s face. It would have matched Shinichi’s own. “I’d like that,” he said, voice louder, and licked his lips. “Things.”

KID pasted on a smile. It seemed a little false, but Shinichi wasn’t sure what gave him that impression. “We could always play cards instead.”

“Using the ammunition for your card gun, right?” Shinichi said, interested despite himself.

KID's smile widened, much more genuine. "Why, detective! Are you trying to gumshoe my secrets out of me?"

Shinichi's grin matched his. "Look, I've got one night to get everything out of you, and anything I get, I can't use. You might as well give me everything."

KID touched his hips, guiding him towards the futon. "Giving you everything, hmm?" They sat down on the futon, backs against the wall. "Why don't you start the interrogation, then?"

"Why me?" Shinichi asked quietly.

"Why not you, detective?" KID pulled his knees up to his chest. "Don't we work well together? Aren't you interested in how it might work? What we could achieve?"

Shinichi laughed. "You make us sound like business partners."

"Perhaps I should return this interrogation to you. Why did you kiss me back?"

Hmm. That was a question. Why did Shinichi kiss him back? "Loneliness, maybe?" Shinichi said slowly.

"I can work with that," KID said.

"No, I. I let you get close," Shinichi said. "It happened without me realizing it. When you kissed me, it suddenly made sense."

"Ah, habit! How romantic," KID said, stretching out and curling around Shinichi.

"It's not habit! At least, not just habit," Shinichi amended. "You challenge me."

"You were not looking for that challenge tonight," KID said.

Laughter bubbled up from Shinichi's throat despite himself. "Aww, were you hurt that I didn't participate?" He unwrapped KID's cape, sharing it with him.

"Very," KID said seriously, laying his head against his chest. Shinichi had a very good view of his collarbones, framed by his loose tie and the undone top two buttons. He thought he might particularly like to kiss the dip under his neck, just to see what KID would do.

"Lucky for us then that heists are just a medium," Shinichi said, tucking KID in. "We still have lots of ways we can challenge one another."

“Sounds intriguing. What do you have in mind?” KID asked.

Shinichi said nothing, fingers under KID's chin. He tilted his chin up and kissed him. It was nice, Shinichi reflected, to have him so close. All the things he never thought about, that he never let himself think about…they didn’t matter anymore. KID was close, his lips on his. His body heat mesmerized Shinichi. He was so startlingly hot Shinichi could just melt against him, and so he did.

He lost track of time. All Shinichi knew when he pulled away was that KID’s shirt had become unbuttoned. His flushed skin contrasted with the white of his suit, and Shinichi wanted to see him even more disheveled.

"Is this how interrogations are supposed to work, detective?" KID asked as Shinichi pressed him to the futon, straddling his thighs and pinning his arms above his head.

"Hmm. I think I'm learning a lot," Shinichi said, moving his tie to the side and trailing a finger down his lean pectoral. Toned muscle, hidden by a soft layer. Shinichi jerked his shirt open wide and splayed his hands across his chest, running his palms across his nipples.

KID's breath hitched, and his hands settled on Shinichi's hips.

Shinichi tapped the left side of his torso, close to his heart. "Starburst pattern," he said. "Hollow. Gunshot," he concluded, before fingering a small scar. "The gem that saved you cut you," he said, tracing the line.

"Yes. It was the Blue Birthday," he said. KID was trying to control his breathing, but he was having difficulties, just from Shinichi's proximity. A heady feeling surged through Shinichi, making him dizzy.

He had to ground himself. "You're getting shot at," Shinichi said. "Who's shooting you?" Shinichi asked.

"Detective, do we have to talk about this now?" KID asked.

In lieu of an answer, Shinichi kissed the dip in between his collar bones. KID made a strangled noise, so Shinichi kissed the curve of his neck, up the line of it, and finished with one to his jaw. Then he kissed back down, humming as he reached his sternum. Then he licked a line between his pectorals, tracing the ridge until he reached a nipple.

KID hissed. Shinichi swirled around the nub with the tip of his tongue before mouthing it with his lips and then kissing it. KID buried his fist in his hair, arching up into his mouth, so Shinichi did it again.

Shinichi licked a line to the other side before performing the same routine, rewarded by a gasp from KID and more writhing.

Lifting his head, Shinichi said, "No."

"'No' what?" KID asked, and Shinichi laughed.

"So this body is KID's canvas," Shinichi mused. "Adaptable and chameleon. Beautiful."

"Oh, detective. You'll make me blush," KID said.

"That's the plan," Shinichi said, trailing his finger down the line of his stomach to his navel before circling it. It was then he noticed something had risen. "Pervert," he said, blushing.

"Detective, I am only a mortal man and you've been very handsy," KID said.

Yes. Shinichi knew far too well KID was mortal, even if he forgot sometimes, the way that KID seemed larger than life.

Shinichi touched the starburst scar. "I'm going to make it so you never have to go through this again."

KID blinked. "Detective?"

"I mean it. I'll find them, even if you won't tell me." He glared at the bullet hole, and KID took his hand from his scar and held it.

"You have your own problems," KID said.

"I do. And they include you now.” He leaned over his body once again, kissing his collar over and over, trailing kisses back over the left part of his shoulder, kissing back up his neck. He feathered kisses all along KID’s jaw, and then attempted to kiss the corner of his mouth again. Instead, KID turned his head into the kiss, tired of the teasing. Shinichi didn’t have a problem with this either, and kissed him gladly, nipping his bottom lip, soothing it with a questioning tongue.

KID let him in. It wasn’t so long ago that this would have been something unusual, but now it was more natural than breathing. He and KID just fit together, even like this. Watching him at the heist, Shinichi knew something was missing, that he needed something else, something more, but he didn’t know it would be this. Perfection encapsulated in this singular moment, something grand, something special. He could do this the rest of his life and never get tired of it; the slide of their twin tongues, the needy way that KID sought him out, the obsessed way that he responded.

“I’m a problem?” KID asked, breathless, when Shinichi pulled away.

“You’re a big problem,” Shinichi said, shaking his head at him. “What am I supposed to do with you, huh?” he asked, rubbing circles over his heart. “How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t let me?”

“Protect me?” KID asked, tilting his head. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“I know, I just.” Shinichi bit his lip. “I just don’t want to lose you before I even know you. If I can help—”

KID took his hand in his. “The sentiment as it’s meant is endearing. My dear, dear detective,” KID said, cupping his face and caressing the sweep of Shinichi’s cheek with his thumb. “Alas, but we are two different stars, falling together but with a different trajectory. Our paths were not meant to have the same end.”

“You're the one that gave me your heart, KID," Shinichi said. "Isn't it mine to do with as I please?"

"My heart, not the rest of me," KID said.

"Oh, I see," Shinichi said, although he didn't really see at all. Instead, he rose from his position on top of KID and stood, straightening his suit. He dusted himself off, and then walked towards the little half door.

It took KID a moment to process what Shinichi was doing, but then he was on his feet in a flash, racing across the small room and grabbing his wrist. "Shinichi, don't go!"

Shinichi turned. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because—" he trailed off. Shinichi rarely saw him at a loss for words. "I want you here," he finished quietly.

"I'm not someone you can just dismiss," Shinichi said, tugging his arm out of his grip. "And if you're not even going to listen to me, it makes me wonder if this can even go anywhere."

"It can, it's just," KID fell to silence again.

Shinichi laughed, but this time it was bitter. He stepped forward, closer to the door, only to have KID wrap his arms around him and press his face to his back. "Stay with me," KID said.

"Tonight?" Shinichi asked.

"Forever."

"KID—"

"You have to understand. I am used to doing things alone," KID said. "It will take me some time to accustom myself to having someone beside me."

"Like that excuses it," Shinichi grumbled, but he had no desire to leave. He only wanted to make KID understand.

"People will inevitably get hurt. I would rather bear that myself." His grip around Shinichi's stomach tightened.

"Idiot. You don't need to protect me. I'm not helpless either. We can work together." He turned around in his embrace and gathered KID into his arms. His warm body heated Shinichi down to his bones.

"Detective," KID said before pausing. He opened his mouth. Then he shut it. Then he opened it again before biting his lip instead.

He leaned in, pressing half his face against half of Shinichi's, close enough to whisper in his ear. "My name is Kaito."

Shinichi's breath left his body. "Sure you can trust me with that much?"

"One night only," KID said with a soft smile. “You’re as good as your word. For one night only, I can trust you with everything.” He swallowed. “I find myself wanting to.” He reached into his pocket and pressed a button and soft music began playing from speakers hidden in various corners of the room. Shinichi couldn’t spot them at first glance.

The soft sound of a cello and piano—the opening notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D. Kaito took Shinichi’s hands into his, sweeping him across the small room. Shinichi let him take the lead. “Are we getting married?” Shinichi asked. “It’s quite a ways from our first kiss we shared tonight.”

“Shinichi, I have one night to work with. Cut me some slack here,” Kaito said, swirling him around.

Shinichi decided he’d be better off if he took the lead before KID got any ideas; to his surprise, Kaito was only too willing to follow. "You're forgiven," Shinichi said primly with a disdainful sniff, and they both laughed so hard they fell against each other, clutching each other for support.

It wasn't exactly funny, but something was just so…Shinichi didn't have the words. Magical, maybe, but it didn't feel right. Special?

Like untouched fresh-fallen snow, the kind that would melt in the morning under the warm winter sun. Beautiful and pristine and so very fragile.

They danced until the song changed, and Kaito turned the music down, then leaned in for another kiss. Shinichi was growing addicted to them. They kissed again, and a twinkling bright light grew between them, expanding until it flashed brightly in a splash of color.

"Oh," Shinichi said, eyes wide.

Kaito's blue shirt was still unbuttoned, and glittering just in front of his chest was a small white star, iridescent and sparkling.

He'd been right. Kaito's heartlight had been in danger of escaping his chest all night.

"When you said you were giving me your heart, I thought you meant it as a metaphor," Shinichi said.

Kaito's face fell, and he clutched at his light, covering it, but it was too bright. It shone through his fingers. He held it close to his chest, trying to force it back in, but it wouldn't return, so he just stood there helpless, heart in his hand.

The air was still. Shinichi heard his own heartbeat loud in his ears. He reached out. “May I,” he asked, his voice as soft as the shadows flickering with the beat of KID’s heart.

The silence was deafening. Shinichi didn’t move. One twitch would shatter this moment forever. They stayed in that moment for an eternity, gazing into each other’s eyes, the space between them lit up by Kaito’s twinkling heart.

“Of course,” Kaito said finally, voice as soft as a whisper. He held out his hand, his face lit by a rainbow of color.

Cognizant of the trust Kaito was showing towards him, Shinichi took it from his hand with a delicate touch, cradling it between his own two. He leaned down, pressing a kiss against the fluttering warmth.

Kaito gasped, face slackening, so Shinichi did it again, pouring all the affection he felt into the kiss.

It wasn’t love. Not quite yet. But it was enough to make Kaito’s heart squirm in his hand and inch towards Shinichi’s own chest.

“Detective,” Kaito breathed as Shinichi brought it closer and let it rest against his heart. He knew he was half in love with KID already. He just hadn’t recognized that love for what it was.

It was so obvious in retrospect.

The little ball of light sank down into his chest; Shinichi inhaled, deep and shuddering, as Kaito’s warmth suffused his entire body. It settled down into his chest, curling next to Shinichi’s own heartlight.

Kaito fell against him, his breathing ragged, clutching at him with desperate hands. “Please,” he begged into Shinichi’s neck. It was everything to let it rest there, to let it resonate. In return, Shinichi’s light curled around Kaito’s like a guardian, protecting him from the shadows outside.

Shinichi didn’t want to part them. But it was unfair for Kaito to give him his soulstar and then for Shinichi to keep him heartless in the dark.

Biting his lip, Shinichi untied his tie and then shrugged off his shirt. Then he helped Kaito do the same until they were standing shirtless before one another.

It took surprisingly little time for Shinichi to coax his heartlight out of his chest. Shinichi’s wasn’t an iridescent rainbow; it was a dimmer star made of cool blues and somewhat small. He held it out to Kaito, who took it like it was precious anyway, and he held it against his chest. It sank inside easier than Shinichi suspected and settled like it had always belonged there.

Love thrummed through Shinichi's chest from Kaito's heartlight. Likewise, his soulstar teased at Shinichi's light as it flowed through Kaito, stoking the brightness, playful and sure.

"You—" Kaito began, uncertain.

"Me," Shinichi said with a smile.

"You know, in the old days they would have considered this as binding as a marriage," Kaito said.

“Then yes,” Shinichi said.

His words struck Kaito speechless. Left bereft of words, he pulled him into another kiss instead.

Kaito's heart raced in Shinichi's chest. Likewise, he could feel his own speeding up in Kaito's. They began to resonate with one another, sparking light flickering from each of their chests, before settling down into their new homes.

Lifting his head, he grabbed Shinichi's hand and pulled him back to the futon, laying down next to him so they were face to face, then covered them both with several thick blankets.

"Your heart's been mine for a long time, hasn't it?" Shinichi asked.

"Yes," Kaito admitted. "Pathetic, huh?"

"Brave," Shinichi said. He reached over and caressed his cheek. "No hiding from me, not tonight."

The festive lights twinkled above them, casting the whole safe room in a haunting blue glow. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Shinichi wanted to reach out and touch.

Then, he realized he could. He shifted under the blankets and rolled over on top of him.

“Detective…?” Kaito asked. He hissed as Shinichi kissed the juncture of his shoulder, up his collar, followed by the hollow of his throat, then along the curve.

“Mmm, Kaito,” Shinichi murmured against his neck. “I really would prefer it if you would call me Shinichi."

"Shinichi," he breathed.

"You know," Shinichi said conversationally against his neck, "About this one night thing—" he trailed off, kissing the edge of his jaw and just under his ear.

"What?" Kaito asked, shifting underneath him, tensing up.

"I was just thinking about it," Shinichi said, plying him with kisses. "How anything goes tonight."

"Yes, and? What was your conclusion?" Kaito asked, breathless and squirming.

"Oh, just that it follows that I really can't do anything about anything that happens in the future outside the foundation of this night, either," Shinichi said, pressing soft kisses across his face. His jawline, his cheeks…he rested his lips against his forehead, holding him close.

Shinichi didn’t speak it aloud, but perhaps it was better that Kaito didn’t tell him about those men in black at his heists. Shinichi had the free rein to investigate on that own

“Meaning?” Kaito asked, and oh, he was tense.

“I want to be partners,” Shinichi said, running his fingers through his fringe, kissing his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose.

“Working together?” Kaito asked, adorably confused.

“No. Partners,” Shinichi stressed. “Boyfriends. Whatever.”

“Oh, I see.” He grinned. “Boyfriends.”

“Don’t say that. It sounds so juvenile.”

“Whatever, then,” Kaito said, grinning even wider.

Shinichi wanted to kiss that smirk right off his stupid face. "I want to learn everything about you, and argue with you, and do everything with you. I want to challenge you, and struggle with you, and I just," he trailed off.

"...Are you asking me out?" Kaito asked, his smile true and genuine.

To hell with it. "Yes," Shinichi said, and drew him back close.

The night outside was cold and bitter, but underneath the blankets, Shinichi was sweet and warm. He tucked his head against Kaito's chest and just listened to his heart, cradled by Shinichi's heartlight. The locket he'd given him lay against his chest, warm with the heat of their skin.

Tomorrow, things would be different. Tomorrow they would have to figure out so very many complicated messy things to make it work. If they could even make it work, disparate as they were.

But tonight…

Just for tonight…

They cradled each other in their arms and dreamed of forever.

#kaishin #detective conan #dcmk #ksss22 #kuroba kaito #kudo shinichi #soulmate au #fluff #sentinel writes

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angelicsentinel · 2 years ago

Text

amaryllis in the spring

Title: amaryllis in the spring Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito Author: AngelicSentinel Rating: Teen Relationships: Kudo Shinichi/Kuroba Kaito Characters: Kudo Shinichi, Kuroba Kaito, Mori Ran Additional Information: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Murder, Identity Reveal, Case Fic Word Count: ~14,000 Summary: Years after Shinichi becomes a police detective, someone is murdered at Haido Recital Hall. The biggest mystery, however, is why the principal dancer seems so familiar. Notes: This is my gift for @altumvidetur for the 2022 KaiShin secret santa as hosted by @dcmkkaishinevents. Thanks so much for hosting! This was written for the first prompt: Case fic team up where Shinichi doesn't know Kaito's identity at first. Please enjoy!

As always, mirror on Ao3

Shinichi hated ballet. It was just a bunch of people in frilly costumes frolicking across the stage to classical music. At least, that’s what he thought until the performance started.

They danced with such grace they floated across the stage, and they’d designed each lavish costume with such attention to detail Shinichi found himself impressed.

Ballet wasn’t exactly something Shinichi would have gone to himself, but Ran didn’t want to go alone. It wasn’t a hardship to go with her. They’d maintained their close friendship even after their romance didn’t work out, and Shinichi had missed spending time with her to be honest. It didn’t hurt much anymore, so it was easy to look past the lingering bittersweet feeling to enjoy her company. He thought he was missing an ideal more than what they actually had, anyway.

Ran watched the stage with stars in her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her, so Shinichi knew it was an excellent idea. He was happy she was so enchanted.

He settled back against the seat, eyes riveted to the brilliant display of athleticism before him. The women were in full gowns and powdered wigs with bright red rouged cheeks; the men likewise wore powdered wigs and breeches.

Somehow, he’d gotten it into his head that ballet didn’t have professional level performances, which was an uncomfortable amount of bias. Shinichi shook his head. He was not sure exactly what he imagined, actually. Something more Shakespearean and minimal, perhaps. But they were professionals, and even with his lack of knowledge about ballet in general, he could tell they were highly skilled.

Shaking his head, he laughed at himself. No matter how logical a detective he might deem himself, he was only human in the end. He settled back to enjoy the show. It took a little doing. He wasn’t sure if it were true of all ballet, but following the plot took a bit of imagination.

He gathered they were at some kind of holiday party, what with the opening of the gifts and the dancing. The proscenium arch of the Art Nouveau stage framed the Empire backdrop, the two disparate styles complementing one another. Where the recital hall was smooth and twisting, the sitting room with the large festive tree was stately and imposing.

Soon, amidst all the red and gold brocade of the parents, a man in black with a glittering midnight cape appeared as if from nowhere, the children clapping their hands excitedly and chattering amongst themselves in pantomime.

He watched him pull a long scarf out of nowhere, twirling around with it onstage before making it disappear in a flash of fire. He then made a plush rat appear out of nothing, followed by a princess doll in another flash, dancing around with them, telling a story of a fierce rat king who wanted to take her for his own, only to be interrupted at the end by a soldier who drove the rat king off.

More dancing followed, intricate and well-choreographed. He wondered how they weren’t all running into one another, especially when three life-size dancers meant to be wind-up dolls took the stage, dressed as Harlequin, Pierrot, and Columbine. They danced their number and then disappeared in the swirl of the magician’s cape.

The second set of gifts were a pair of elaborately dressed porcelain dolls dressed in Heian era fashion, the emperor and the empress. They wore multiple light layers instead of heavy silk and the fabric flowed as they danced, swirling in a rainbow of color that was almost dizzying.

With a loud pop and a burst of light, the children and parents danced off the stage, leaving the magician alone with the two lead dancers, who Shinichi supposed were perhaps the children of the house.

To them, he gifted them the eponymous Nutcracker, a proud soldier in a French-cocked hat with a peacock feather. Underneath, he wore an elaborately beaded Venetian mask, inlaid with brightly colored shards that gleamed like gems and looked like glass.

His dancing had a certain je ne sais quoi that drew Shinichi’s attention like a beacon in the night. The rest of the dancers were wonderful, no doubt about that, but the Nutcracker himself had an indescribable quality that kept Shinichi’s eyes on him long after the male lead had broken him and he’d finished his dance.

The woman cried, forlorn, and the magician fixed him, and still Shinichi could not tear his eyes away. Shinichi barely saw the rise and fall of his chest, he was so practiced at remaining still. The party ended, and the young lady came back to check on him, to make sure her brother hadn’t broken him again with his roughhousing, and fell asleep on stage.

The magician appeared as if from nowhere, cape swirling devilishly. The stage lights went down. The clock struck twelve. The “night” came. Shinichi was still riveted to the stage, entranced by the Nutcracker.

He gasped alongside Ran and the crowd when the Christmas tree grew and the toys came to life, followed by gingerbread people dancing on stage in a twirling frenzy. Dancers costumed as mice poured from both sides of the stage, and a fierce battle broke out. It was organized chaos—some of the best choreography Shinichi had ever seen.

Honestly, why had Shinichi had such a biased view of it in the first place? This display was fantastic!

The Nutcracker came back onstage, his sword flashing, parrying the blow of the Rat King. They danced back and forth, surrounded by gingerbread men and tin soldiers and more mice. So many people whirled in tight patterns around one another, it was hard to determine just who and where everything was, what with the smoke and the cool blue lighting.

In a devious and fell series of dance steps, the Rat King stabbed at the Nutcracker, only for the young lady to take the blow on her left forearm. She staggered around, twirling gracefully, the back of her hand on her head. Her arm dripped with what looked like real blood. Shinichi leaned forward. She danced for another minute as the battle continued, took five more steps, then staggered and fell to the floor. She didn’t get up.

Slowly, as if waking from a dream, her castmates stopped, surrounding her in a circle. The orchestra stopped. The Nutcracker, still in his glittering wood-like mask, knelt down and held his fingers to her neck. He punched the stage.

She didn’t move. Shinichi stood up, ignoring Ran’s hushed, “No, it can’t be.” He turned to her, and they both nodded.

“Ran, tell the ushers not to let anyone out.” She nodded again. “Excuse me,” he said, sidling past the people in the row until he made it to the aisle.

He strode down the red carpet to the proscenium, flashing the theater security his badge. He repeated his orders to them. “Keep everyone in the theater for now until I can figure out what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir,” the security guard said, and radioed Shinichi’s orders while Shinichi climbed on stage.

The dim blue lights were surprisingly bright. The heat they gave off was unexpected also, and Shinichi felt himself sweat underneath his coat. He tugged at his tie with one hand and pulled out his badge with another. “Assistant Inspector Kudō Shinichi. Excuse me,” he said, flashing his credentials, and the danseurs parted like the sea.

Shinichi caught the cool blue eyes of the Nutcracker. He held Shinichi’s gaze for a long moment, something like surprise in his wide eyes and the slant of his mouth before looking away first, hands still in fists.

What was that all about?

He knelt down, checking her pulse himself.

Yes. She was dead. Her mouth caught his attention, though, her lips a cherry red. He sighed, leaning closer to the stage, examining her with a small flashlight. She had lather on her mouth. Cyanide. It was as he thought. She’d been murdered.

“No one leave this stage,” he ordered. “Cast, crew, anybody. That includes anyone backstage."

People grumbled, so Shinichi added, "Don't make me get you for interference in a police investigation."

"Scary, scary," the magician said, sing-song.

"Someone get the stagehands to hit the lights, I need to see the crime scene.”

“Crime scene?” The Rat King said, his voice trembling.

Shinichi didn’t bother to answer. He dialed HQ. “Inspector,” he said, no nonsense. “Murder at Haido Recital Hall.”

“Isn’t it your night off?” Takagi asked him, amusement in her voice.

Shinichi didn’t deign to reply.

“What is this, the third time this month?” she continued.

“I need a forensics team and enough officers to corral about oh,” he glanced up at the audience, doing mental math at the tiered seating, which was mostly full. “Maybe fifteen hundred people?”

“You don't think it was someone in the audience?" Takagi asked.

"No, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry," he said.

"I'll meet you there. Try not to run into any more corpses," she said.

"I'll do my absolute best," Shinichi said, followed by her sigh as he hung up.

More preliminary investigation of her corpse added to his theory. Her fingernails, the blueish color of her face. "Can anyone tell me if they were filming this performance?"

The Nutcracker shook his head. "The equipment wasn't working tonight."

Shinichi stroked his chin. "Convenient." He glanced over at the man. His voice sounded strangely familiar. "You have anyone who can back that up?"

He nodded. "Honoka is responsible for the filming."

Shinichi narrowed his eyes. "You're being suspiciously helpful."

"I don't like murder," he said.

Shinichi took the rumpled program out of his pocket. "Kuroba Kaito?" he asked.

"In the flesh," he bowed with a grin.

"That makes you the Rat King," he said, turning to the other man. "Ishida, right?"

"Ishida Daisuke, yes."

"Is there any particular reason you were using live blades on stage?"

"Uh," Ishida stammered. "We're both pretty good at fencing? And the crowd likes it, so," he trailed off, then looked down at his feet.

"Isabel wasn't supposed to step between us," Kuroba said. "I've half a wonder if she wasn't already poisoned by then."

Shinichi frowned down at the corpse. Isabel was her name. Satsuma Isabel. The prima ballerina. "It looks like it was ingested. I couldn't see well from where I was sitting, but who has the best access?"

"It's impossible to say," Kuroba said. "Any of us could have done it."

"Wonderful. That helps a lot," Shinichi said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "In the last few minutes of her life, her motor movements would have deteriorated to a noticeable degree. And no one noticed?"

"In our defense," Kuroba said mildly, "we were preoccupied with the tight choreography and the frantic pacing."

Touché. Shinichi inclined his head, acknowledging the point.

"Shinichi," Ran called from the floor, "They've locked down the building until the police get here."

"Thanks, Ran," he said, distracted, running what he knew through his mind. He glanced back over the audience again. A lot of them were shifting in their seats, uneasy. At least one elementary class was present. He needed to clear most of the people here. "Does any of the audience have VIP access?"

"Not until after the show," Kuroba said. "We do a meet-and-greet backstage in the dressing rooms."

"What's the set-up like?"

"The prima ballerina and the lead danseur get their own rooms. Otherwise, there's a separate shared space each for the men and women."

"And this is usual for your company?" he asked.

"By which you mean to ask if the meet-and-greet is a routine occurrence?" Kuroba asked.

"Yes."

Shinichi wasn't sure if that absolved the audience or not; conceivably, they didn't have regular access to the dressing rooms, but if someone planted something the night before—

"How long has the show been running?" he asked.

"Are you serious? Aren't you here? Tonight's opening night!" Ishida said.

"I'm not really a ballet person," Shinichi said. "My best friend had tickets and didn't want to go alone."

"'Best friend?' Not girlfriend?" Kuroba asked, surprised.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, my best friend. That's the kind of thinking that made us think we had to date. Anyway, I'm not the subject of interrogation here." Hmm. He needed a way to work through the suspects. "Divide yourselves. Lead cast here, gingerbread men here, soldiers here, rats—"

"Mice," Kuroba piped up helpfully.

Shinichi cut his eyes at him, continuing immediately as if he hadn't been interrupted. "—Rats here. Stage hands over here." Looking back over the stage, he said. "Anyone who wasn't on stage at the time, I need them here," he said, pointing to stage left.

Most of the ballerinas from before had come back as rats or soldiers, but there were a few more named characters that wouldn't show up until the second act, including the Sugar Plum fairy and someone aptly named Mother Ginger.

As an aside, Shinichi thought to himself the story was incredibly strange, but that was neither here nor there, really.

Forensics arrived first, photographing the body before setting up and analyzing the crime scene.

He'd worked his way through most of the soldiers when the rest of his backup finally arrived. He left the other two detectives to finish the interrogation with the chorus characters while he went back to the main set of cast members. About ten people stood there in all.

Takagi was present, questioning the Magician.

"Drosselmeyer," Kuroba said, apropos of nothing.

"What?" Shinichi asked, confused.

"That's the name of Akio's character. You seemed confused. Either that or his cape has done something to offend you."

Shinichi said, "You're flippant for someone at the scene of a homicide."

Kuroba stared at him. "It's Beika," he said, as if they explained everything.

Maybe it did.

"I suppose that's fair," Shinichi allowed.

"Anyway, since you're not a fan of ballet, I thought maybe you'd like the ins and outs of what's going on?"

"Who's to say you're not the culprit and rearranging the story to suit your needs?" Shinichi asked.

"Easy," Kuroba said. "I don't have a motive."

"I'll determine that for myself, thanks," Shinichi said, irritated.

"Suit yourself," Kuroba said with a shrug.

"Didn't Isabel hate you?" Ishida said.

"Hate is a strong word," Kuroba said. “She just really, really didn’t like me.”

“Is there any particular reason why?” Shinichi asked.

Kuroba grimaced, but didn’t explain.

Ishida opened his mouth instead. “She had a really histrionic personality—”

“I don’t know if histrionic is the right word, exactly,” Kuroba muttered. “She knew what she wanted and how to get it. She was a consummate professional onstage; that has nothing to do with how we interacted offstage.”

“It does if you had anything to do with her murder,” Shinichi pointed out.

Kuroba inclined his head. “She just thought I wasn’t serious about the craft,” Kuroba said. "Most people you see here have trained to do this since they were very young. Careers are usually decided early. And sure, ballet classes were part of my routine as a child, but they dropped off in middle school, and I didn't dance seriously for a long time. She didn't like it, that's all."

"So how did you end up as the principal danseur of an internationally acclaimed company?"

Kuroba laughed. "Isn't that the question? Luck, I guess, and the fact that Madame Yamato liked me?”

“Who’s she?” Shinichi asked.

“The choreographer and owner of the Beika Company,” Ishida said. “She has very exacting standards. It was a surprise for everyone.” He glanced at his fellow danseur. “But Kuroba here has earned it. He works as hard as anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” Kuroba said with a flourish and a bow.

"You both seem to have level heads. I appreciate your knowledge about the company," Shinichi observed.

"No need to say that, I know we're both suspects," Kuroba said.

"What?" Ishida yelped. "You can't be serious!"

"I had access to her dressing room. We had a long, loud argument everyone knows about," Kuroba said. "No detective worth his salt is just going to ignore that."

"What about me, huh?" Ishida asked. "Me and Bela were on good terms."

"You were also longtime partners and have only recently broken up. Face it, Ishida, you're the prime suspect. That's always how these things go."

Statistically, it was most likely to be the partner. Shinichi opened his mouth to comment, but Kuroba had been right. It wasn't unusual for people to have been caught up in several homicide cases, since Beika Ward was the murder capital of Japan.

Of course, given his glibness, he could also be the murderer, but Shinichi could revisit that later when they had a fuller idea of the circumstances.

He turned to Officer Tome, who was noting things on a chart on his clipboard. "Do you have cause and time of death?" Shinichi asked.

The man nodded. "I'll need to confirm it with an autopsy and a toxicology report, but preliminary findings suggest she died from cyanide. It was probably ingested around thirty minutes before she collapsed.”

Shinichi nodded. “Takagi,” he called across the stage. “It was definitely someone with access to the stage and backrooms.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, too.” She picked up her phone. “Shiratori,” she said. “You can start letting the audience go once you’ve searched their bags.”

“Noted,” Shinichi heard through her speaker. “I’ve talked to the box office as well; we have a list of everyone who purchased tickets, just in case.”

Kuroba and Ishida stood off to the side, talking to one another in quiet tones. They were joined by Ono Akio, who played the magician. Detective Ishikawa was interrogating the stage hands.

Slowly but surely they winnowed it down to a handful of people. Kuroba and Ishida both had keys to her dressing room. Miyamura Satsuki played the Sugar Plum Fairy; she was also seen arguing with Satsuma about conning her out of the lead role—by all accounts a vicious and dirty argument. The company hadn’t been as profitable as in previous years, so financial means could have also played their part in the early demise.

“I would think that it would drive sales away,” Shinichi told Director Yamato, who’d finally come down to be interviewed. She was a stern, sharp-eyed woman who dressed in a black pantsuit and wore her hair tied back in a tight bun. Everyone in the company called her Madame, but director or producer was closer to her role, alongside doing the principal choreography.

“Oh no. Everyone in the arts is superstitious, Detective Kudō. You don’t mention the name of the Scottish play, certain productions are cursed…”

“I’ve never heard that said about The Nutcracker,” Shinichi said. “Besides, if I were dancing, I don’t think I’d want to share a stage with a murderer. “

“Stars shine brighter just before they fall,” the Director said, sighing wistfully.

Shinichi couldn’t help himself; he shook his head. Despite her stern countenance, she was rather whimsical.

“What can you tell me about her?” Shinichi asked.

“Hmm. Well. For the most part, she was a good dancer, but lately, it’s been strange. Her behavior was increasingly erratic.”

“She was going through a crisis?” Shinichi asked.

“Oh, nothing like that. She was excellent on stage; probably the best dancer I’ve ever seen, but no, it was little things. Forgetting we had practice, tardiness, taking twice as long to learn choreography…I became quite concerned, you know.”

“I see.”

Once they were done with their interview, Shinichi turned to his coworker. “Ishikawa,” Shinichi said. “Take over, would you? I want to get a full look at the scene before they start processing the evidence.”

“Sure thing, Kudō,” she said.

Freed from questioning potential suspects, Shinichi slipped his hands in his pockets, eyeing the stage and the elaborate Empire style set pieces. Nothing looked out of place. Halfway down stage right, Kuroba joined him.

“So, you’re pretty dedicated to your job,” Kuroba said. He looked ridiculous in the wooden mask, officer’s coat, and powdered wig.

“Some might say that,” Shinichi allowed. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh, I don’t mean any offense, really, but watching you work, you’re like a hound dog with a bone,” he said. He walked circles around Shinichi, doing some weird kind of ballet thing with his feet where he spun around on one foot, doing a perfect split standing. Shinichi winced. Men shouldn’t flex that way.

“Is that necessary?” Shinichi asked, looking at his foot. The shoes they wore were thin, and couldn’t be comfortable on the wooden stage. Kuroba wore breeches, but under the hose were very firm and defined calves. Given what he’d seen about balance and strength, he supposed they’d have to be lean and tightly muscled.

That did not make him envious, oh no. He surreptitiously poked his gut, which had grown a little pudgy from late night konbini snack runs, and sighed. He really needed to find time to exercise a little more. But it was hard to maintain a consistent routine when every time he got a little downtime, a murder happened.

“Of course it’s necessary. I fidget when I’m nervous. I’m much worse off if I don’t have this outlet, you see.”

“Uh huh,” Shinichi said slowly. “Is there any particular reason why you’re nervous at the moment?”

“Uh, I’m a suspect being accosted by a very handsome police detective? Wouldn’t you be nervous too?”

“‘Accosted?’ Just what are you implying, Kuroba-san?” Shinichi said, raising his eyebrows. He wasn’t even going to touch the word handsome. It wouldn’t be the first time a suspect tried to fluster him.

(It would be the first time it almost worked, though.)

Kuroba held up his hands. “Nothing, nothing! You’re just a legendary member of the police force, that’s all. I’ve heard stories.”

Right. And Shinichi was Detective Samonji. “Stories, huh. I didn’t think I was that famous.”

“Everyone has heard stories of the former teen detective.”

“Unlikely,” Shinichi said. He spotted many half open bottles of water backstage. None of them seemed to be the contamination vector, though Inspector Takagi was going through them and testing them with Detective Maeda’s help.

Shinichi decided to turn his attention to the dressing rooms.

“But in my case, we might have mutual acquaintances. My best friend’s father used to work in Division Two. You might have heard of him.”

Shinichi thought about that for a moment. He didn’t know many people in Division Two. “Inspector Nakamori?” he asked, guessing on a whim.

“The very same!” Kuroba said, clapping his hands.

Saying they had relatives or friends in law enforcement was another common manipulation tactic. “Do you think that letting me know you have a friend in law enforcement is going to let you off the hook?”

Nothing seemed out of place in the women’s dressing rooms. Lights, makeup, costumes, bras…nothing unusual. Some food, a few water bottles. All those would need to be tested, but it was highly unlikely Satsuma had been poisoned here, not with a dressing room to herself. Shinichi slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves.

“Oh no, I would never!” he said, eyes wide and mouth open in mock shock. “You just seemed to be curious as to how I knew so much about you, and I wanted to put you at ease about it.”

“You know that just means that I will be looking at you more closely,” Shinichi said, looking through the women’s things. He probably should have left this part of the investigation to Takagi or Ishikawa. “Since you’re going out of your way to ‘put me at ease.’”

“Hahaha!” he laughed, leaning over and clutching his stomach. “Oh, you haven’t changed a bit in the last seven years, have you?”

That…seemed more than just hearsay or popularity. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” Shinichi said, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, I had one of those teen detectives at my alma mater, that’s all,” Kaito said. “He spoke about you from time to time.”

He didn’t speak Kansai-ben, his dialect was purely Kanto, so it had to be Hakuba Saguru, maybe? “You were classmates with Hakuba?” he put forth hesitantly.

“The very same!” he said. “Ah, my best friend was obsessed with detectives and KID, and she was always nattering on all about you and the rest of them, so I learned a lot against my will!” he said with a huge grin.

“Don’t say that so cheerfully,” Shinichi grumbled, even more irritated at him than he was before.

“But why not, it’s the truth!” he said.

Shinichi pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then pointed again at Kaito. “Don’t think I’m not onto you. I am. I’m sharp. I don’t know why, but you’re deliberately trying to get a rise out of me, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, his face pure innocence. As if Shinichi even believed that for a second.

“Cut it, Kuroba.” Ah. He’d forgotten he needed a key. Kuroba quietly handed his over, and Shinichi had no choice but to take it. He used Kuroba’s key to let himself into Satsuma’s dressing room. It hadn’t been processed yet. He internally groaned when Kuroba followed behind him. He kept his eye on him, but he didn’t do anything suspicious as he stopped in the doorway. He didn’t even enter the dressing room wholly, he just leaned himself against the door frame.

Shinichi perused her room, pilfering through her things. What little was there, anyway.

On the vanity was her makeup and a bundle of twelve blood red roses, the tips of the petals beginning to wilt.

The roses would have to be tested for sure, but Satsuma was fastidious. Outside of what was required for her costumes, the only items of note were the roses and her purse. She was religiously organized. The room could belong to a design magazine for how little personality was in it.

“Did she never do anything in here?” Shinichi asked himself out loud.

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but Kuroba actually answered. “She wasn’t a fan of clutter or making a mess. Said it was unclean.”

“...Okay,” Shinichi said, brow furrowing. She allegedly had a histrionic personality—perhaps she denied herself as a matter of controlling her life, or for making her emotions stronger during her dancing. It wouldn’t be the first time Shinichi had heard of people like that.

“It’s not like it sounds,” Kuroba said, taking Shinichi's pensive expression the wrong way. “Bela was a good person.”

Shinichi looked at him. “You sound so confident of it despite the fact she hated you.”

He waved Shinichi off. “I can deal with one perfectionist. It’s not as big of a deal as we made it sound.”

"You keep saying that," Shinichi said.

Kuroba sighed, looking around the room. “She held herself to the same standards she held the rest of us to, if not even higher,” he said. “Without her, I don’t think I’d even be where I am today.”

“You talk about her as if you were friends,” Shinichi said.

“We were.”

"But you said she hated you."

"No, I said she really didn't like me."

"Those are the same thing."

"Not quite. Indifference is the opposite of love, not hate. She didn't like me. I don't blame her. There are times I don't like me. But she was a good friend to me despite it all. She didn't have to like me for that."

Now that was strange, given what had been previously said in front of Ishida. He wondered if they had been secretly dating. “Not more? You almost make it sound like you were dating.”

“No, Officer. Just friends.” He crossed his arms. “Admittedly, it was a strange sort of friendship, but I think we both got something out of it.”

Huh. Interesting. “So if you were friends, you must have known something about her personal life. Something that would have served as the motivation for murder.”

Kuroba sighed again. “That’s the thing I can’t quite figure out. I don’t know of anyone that wanted to kill her. She could be harsh in her criticism at times, and she had very exacting standards, but I don’t think that anyone really felt that way about her. Sour enough to murder her, I mean.”

“What about the other lead ballerina? The one with the death threats. What’s her name? Satsuki?”

“Satsuki’s all hot air. She wouldn’t have hurt her.”

“You seem very sure about that.” Done with his cursory examination of her dressing room, Shinichi opened her purse. Inside was a folded sheet of paper with the date and time for a doctor’s appointment on it. It used the Beika General Hospital letterhead, but it didn’t say what kind of appointment it was.

“What can I say?” Kuroba said. “I know the people I work with. They’re good people.”

“So you say,” Shinichi said. “I’m not so sure I agree.” He tapped the doctor’s note with his gloved hand. “Since you seem to know everything, do you know why she was going to the doctor?”

“Oh, right. Bela had frequent migraines. Recently, they’d gotten severe enough to interfere with her dancing.”

“Her headaches were that bad?” Shinichi asked.

“Oh yeah. I think she took some kind of medication for them? I’m not so sure, though.”

“I thought you knew everything,” Shinichi said.

Kuroba grinned again, that same infuriating familiar smile. “Well, almost everything. Nobody’s perfect.”

Shinichi scoffed and placed the doctor’s note into the evidence bag, followed by the contents of her purse.

“I’m surprised you’d admit you’re not perfect.” Shinichi said.

“Surely I’m not that bad,” Kuroba said.

“So you were aware of her routine,” Shinichi said.

“Yes.”

“Did anything strike you as unusual? Anything at all?” Shinichi asked.

“Hmm,” he said, pacing around before doing a handstand. “Well, if I had to say, she’d been disappearing for short periods of time when we’re onstage. No one knows where she goes.”

“No one?” Shinichi pressed. Kuroba shook his head.

They walked back towards the stage where Ishikawa was hailing him. “We found these unmarked capsules in Ishida’s bag.”

“Where’s Ishida in your list of ‘good people,’” Shinichi asked Kaito just to needle him.

“I don’t think he would do it,” Kaito said. “But then again, I don’t think anyone here could have murdered her.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned during my time as a detective, it’s that anyone is capable of murder. Even the most unsuspecting people can hide darkness in their hearts,” Shinichi said. “It doesn’t matter if they were good people before. Everyone can kill.”

“That sounds like a revelation based on personal experience,” Kuroba said.

“You know,” Shinichi said, suspicious, “You’re awfully interested in my personal affairs.” What was with this man? He was acting like a fanboy the likes of which Shinichi hadn’t seen in years.

“I’m just a nobody to you,” Kuroba said. “But I find you a very intriguing person.”

“I don’t need any fans.”

“Ah, Kudō! You know as well as I do that you still have fans even after all this time,” Takagi said, elbowing him in the side.

Shinichi grunted.

“The Inspector is right!” Kuroba said. “I’m an enormous fan of yours, Detective!”

Something about the way he used that word pinged again at his subconscious. He stared at him for a long moment. It wasn’t coming to him, so he ignored it and moved on. “What you are is a suspect in this murder case. We don’t need some kind of amateur sleuth—who may be the culprit—messing things up.”

“But isn’t that what you used to do when you were a teenage detective?” Kuroba asked with exaggerated confusion, stroking his chin in a farcical manner.

Shinichi groaned.

Kuroba turned serious, still wearing that stupid mask. “I know as well as you do that anyone is capable of murder,” he said. “But for now, I will keep holding the light of these people close to my heart. Excuse me.” With only that as his farewell, he grabbed a closed bottle of water and sat down on the chaise lounge that served as the set’s nod to a sitting room. He took his hat off, and finally his mask.

Once again, Shinichi was struck with a strange sort of familiarity at the sight of his bare face. Had he seen him in the vicinity of Hakuba or something?

Kuroba put his face in his hands and exhaled in a force of rattling breath that sounded like bones.

Ugh. He was getting distracted. “Takagi, have you found the poison yet?” Shinichi asked.

The inspector shook her head. “Not yet! You?”

“No.”

Shinichi crossed his arms, tapping his foot. This case was incredible levels of weird. The prima ballerina’s dramatic collapse on stage, Kuroba’s strange familiarity, the fact they couldn’t narrow down a suspect—

The autopsy would tell them more, but they wouldn’t get the results until sometime tomorrow afternoon.

And he still hadn’t found the murder vector. It had to be something she ingested; that’s what the preliminary findings suggested.

He stalked down the hall, frustrated as hell.

Not in the dressing room, not in the women’s dressing room, not in the staff hallway—

He passed a cleaning lady with her cart who was opening the door to a janitorial closet located just a small way beyond the exits to the outside, closer to the dressing room.

He continued a few steps beyond her, then he stopped, eyes wide. “Excuse me, Cleaning Lady-san!” Shinichi said.

“Yes?” she asked, turning. “I thought I’d already given my statement to that cute young hunk over there,” she said, pointing to Maeda who was still on stage.

“Does anyone else have a key to this closet?”

She shook her head. “Just the Madame and me. Though I don’t really keep it locked, except late at night.”

“What’s the stool in there for? Do you rest in there during your shift, or?”

She shook her head again. “Oh no, That’s Satsuma-sama’s seat. She comes in here sometimes for a bit of peace and quiet. Her poor head, you know. Bad headaches, nothing she’s tried helped.”

Shinichi entered the closet, and amidst the cleaning agents on the shelves was a water bottle, very out of place.

“You don’t keep poisons in here?”

“Oh no sir, not at all!” she said, paling as she realized what he was implying. “There’s her own water bottle, I tell ya, and I ain’t never seen anyone use it but Satsuma-sama herself,” she said, nodding.

“Leave your cleaning cart here,” Shinichi said, and called Tome over to process the crime scene before they tested the water bottle. Takagi followed behind him.

It was positive for cyanide.

“Good catch,” Takagi said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Officer Kudō.”

“Crash and burn?” he said wryly. “According to Kuroba-kun, no one knew where she went when she disappeared for short periods of time, but the closet was left unlocked and anyone could have had access to her water when she wasn’t in here.”

Takagi sighed. “So really, we’re right back to where we started, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Shinichi said. “It could have been anyone with regular access to the stage.”

“Damn,” she cursed. “And I was really hoping we’d made some progress.”

Shinichi looked at his watch. The trains would stop running soon. “Do you mind if I head on out?” Ran and I took the train here, and they’re about to stop running.”

“I can take you in my car if you need more time,” Takagi said.

“Would you?” Shinichi asked.

“Sure. We should probably start wrapping things up here anyway. There’s not much left we can do. We didn’t find any traces of anything on any of the cast members, so the water bottle was definitely the poison vector."

Shinichi frowned. “Ishida’s capsules?”

“Aspirin,” Takagi said. “Nothing was hidden in either of the dressing rooms, we found nothing of interest in the closet. We can’t do anything else until we get the autopsy.”

“I guess it will be another bright and early day at HQ tomorrow then, won’t it?” Shinichi said.

Takagi laughed. “Guess so.”

“So much for my day off.”

“There, there,” she said. “Go on with Ran. I’ll meet you out front.”

Ran was deep in conversation with Director Yamato when she saw Shinichi approach. She bowed, then hurried over to meet up with him. “I got to talk with Yamato-san!” she said, bouncing in her excitement. “She’s a former star with a lifetime achievement award in ballet!”

“She seems nice,” Shinichi agreed.

“Oh, you don’t have to humor me. I know they’re all suspects,” Ran said, waving him off.

"I'm sorry, Ran. This always happens—"

"Don't worry about it, Shinichi. I got to meet a lot of cool and interesting new people, and it's not like you killed her, is it?"

"Well, no—"

"Then seriously! Quit worrying about it! I had a lot of fun!" She tapped her lips. "Okay, truth be told it was really scary in the middle of it, but the first and last parts were fun!"

"I'm glad, then. We should do more things together."

"I agree. It's not like a murder happens at everything we go to, and the show was great until she died." She frowned. "I hate how used to that I am."

He looped his arm around hers. "It doesn't mean you don't care, though."

"Oh, I know. Still, deaths shouldn't be treated as something so commonplace, and that is what bothers me most, I think. I see someone die, and it doesn’t upset me anymore. I just think, ‘What a waste, forgetting the fact that these are people with real, full lives and loved ones."

"Yeah. Don't I know it," Shinichi said with a sigh. That topic was too depressing, so he cast about in his mind for a new one as they exited the building and walked towards Takagi's car. "What were your thoughts on the dancers?"

"They're good! Despite the masks, they were very emotive, don’t you think? Especially the Prince!” She tilted her head. “I feel like I’ve seen him before, though I couldn’t recall where.”

Shinichi stopped. “You, too?” Then he shook his head and continued walking, leaning back against Takagi’s car.

“Huh. So we’ve both seen him somewhere, then,” Ran said, considering. “Speak of the devil,” she said, straightening up.

Indeed, there Kuroba stood, leaning against the side of the building, watching him and Ran with something like wistfulness or longing. Well, maybe not watching. He had his phone to his ear, talking to someone. Perhaps he was just using his mobile phone? Still, it was slightly strange that he’d followed them outside. Or maybe Shinichi was just paranoid. When he saw that Inspector Takagi had followed him out and was talking to him, he realized he was definitely being paranoid.

Takagi left him at the door shortly after, got in the car, and drove them home.

Shinichi didn't go to sleep, though. He had far too much research to do.

[2]

Shinichi yawned. He was up far, far too early for this in his opinion. The coffee in his hand was overwarm and overbitter. He’d fallen asleep fast but gotten up early, mind wrapped up in this strange case.

He sniffed, pressing the elevator down to the mortuary basement. He tilted his head to one side, cracking his neck, then tilted his head to the other side.

The elevator dinged, letting him off. He took a last gulp of the coffee and tossed it in the bin next to the elevators, knocking on the door to the autopsy room.

“Ah, Kudō-kun!” Doc Tanaka said, opening the door for him. “Welcome, welcome.”

“What do you have for me, Doc?” Shinichi asked.

“It’s unusual. You’ll like it,” she said. “Vic was twenty-eight, and my initial findings confirmed that cyanide was the most likely cause of death.”

“But you said it was unusual.”

“Right! She was very athletic. Must have kept to a strict diet too, no alcohol, nearly perfectly healthy on the outside.”

“Nearly,” Shinichi said.

“Right.” She tapped her head with her scalpel. “And then we get to the brain. I took it out to weigh it and discovered some issues with the frontal lobe. Look there.” She poked at the pictures on the lightboard. “What do you see?”

Shinichi squinted. “A strange mass of tissue?"

"Which is?" Tanaka said, leading.

Hell if Shinichi knew. "She had brain cancer?”

“Indeed! Correct again! We will make you a medical examiner yet!”

“I like my current job, thanks,” Shinichi said.

“She had several meningiomas, two of them in the frontal lobe, one of them in the parietal lobe.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, peering down at her naked form. “I noticed you didn’t mention any other organs.”

“Correct again! With my new knowledge, I went back over her again. Upon a closer examination, I noticed they metastasized from her lung.”

Shinichi frowned, peering down at her. “No one mentioned any symptoms relating to that, though. All of them were neurological.”

“Yes. It’s uncommon, but not exactly unusual for cancer to metastasize from unknown sources, or for it to grow faster than the primary tumor. In fact, if I hadn’t been looking for it, I don’t think I would have found the one in her lung. It likely wouldn’t have shown up on imaging when she was alive.”

Shinichi’s fingers tapped faster. So someone wanted her dead, but how likely was it that she would have died anyway?

“Can you tell if it was terminal?”

Tanaka tilted her head. “Well, what I can tell you is the second one in her frontal lobe was inoperable, but she had no signs of non-surgical options. If I had to guess, I’d say maybe, oh, six months?”

“That soon?” he murmured.

“Give or take a couple of months,” Doc Tanaka said, wiggling her hand. “Oncology isn’t exactly my field. Anyway, we’re still waiting on the toxicology report, but I’m confident in declaring the cause of death as cyanide. I’ll have the detailed report to you in a couple of days,” Tanaka said, reaching to grab a loose sheaf of papers from her desk.

“Thanks, Doc,” Shinichi said, paging through them.

With the new information, Shinichi needed to go back and interview the rest of the company sooner rather than later.

He met up with Inspector Takagi, getting the consolidated reports from Ishikawa and Maeda, and read them before taking his car from Metropolitan Headquarters to Haido Recital Hall.

Shinichi felt he was getting to know Beika’s Company quite well as he approached the hall for a second time. With most of the cast dismissed as suspects, he just had a few pertinent questions left to ask the main cast for.

The doorman let him in without asking for his badge, and the receptionist bowed and directed him to the practice studios on the other side of the venue. The first one was empty, but the second one had a pair of dancers in there, supervised by Madame Yamato.

To his surprise, it was two danseurs standing in a clinch, Kuroba and an unknown male. Kuroba was leaning against his torso, arm behind him to caress his face, while the man had his hand on Kuroba's stomach.

Both were shirtless wearing nothing but ballet leggings, which were very tight and almost sheer. Every twitch, every outline of their muscles was visible, and they both had lean, toned bodies from head to toe.

Shinichi's mouth went dry, and he shifted, uncomfortable at the intimacy of the pose, ignoring the swoop in his stomach as he glanced down at Kuroba’s oddly flat and smooth groin.

“Again!” the Madame said, cracking her thin cane against Kuroba's thigh. Kuroba, whom he needed to speak with. He also needed to speak with Yamato, but it was Kuroba he’d prioritized after reading the notes.

"Madame!" he said, snapping to attention.

"From the top and one, two, three, four—"

Shinichi hadn't seen the dance they were performing before, and he really didn't know enough about ballet to describe what they were doing in accurate terms even after his feverish research session, but Kuroba was in the role of a female dancer while the unknown male took the lead. Their muscles rippled and flexed under their skin as he lifted Kuroba with ease; Kuroba braced himself on his partner to help support the lift, folding his body near in two as his foot nearly touched his head, proving to Shinichi that not only were they very athletic, Kuroba was also very flexible.

But then, Shinichi knew that already.

Kuroba had to have at least fifteen kilograms over Satsuma Isabela, but his partner still lifted him with ease.

He set him down, and Kuroba spun away, leaning to the side and swaying dramatically.

Because he'd been so focused on his body, Shinichi hadn't realized Kuroba wore en pointe shoes. Now, Shinichi wasn't any kind of balletomane, but between Ran and his research session last night, he now knew men traditionally didn't study en pointe.

That didn't appear to stop Kuroba, who glided across the dance floor as if he were floating completely on the tips of his toes.

Ethereal and full of grace, Shinichi watched the love blossom on each other's face as they twined even more desperately together, dancing as if they were one.

He felt his face heat, and wondered what the director was thinking, having two men do this kind of thing. And his own reaction to the way they moved so intimately together, it was like—he was like—he couldn’t be gay, right?

Right? he thought desperately. They were both covered in sweat, and their bodies gleamed under the studio lights. Kuroba’s heaving chest stoked an ember deep inside Shinichi’s heart, and it blazed into being like oil on a fire.

What was it about Kuroba? Why did he seem so familiar, like Shinichi already knew him? He was so comfortable in the arms of another man, so at home, that Shinichi couldn’t help but put himself in the other man’s place.

He wanted to be in the other man’s place.

And imagining the flex of those muscles and the strength of that body during other physical activities—

The snap of the cane brought him out of his spiraling thoughts. They’d finished the section they were working on. “Kuroba!” Madame Yamato barked. “Your final cabriole was sloppy. You can do better.”

“Madame!”

“And you, Itō. Are those what you call sissonnes ouvertes? Run through it again, from the top.”

“Madame!” Itō barked.

They began the sequence from the beginning again, and the director turned to face him. “Detective Kudō. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but considering the circumstances, it is not.”

Shinichi inclined his head towards the danseurs. “I’m surprised you’re back to practice already.”

“We have a show to do, Detective. Life does not stop because of one person’s death.”

“Some people might call that callous,” Shinichi said.

“Hmph. What’s callous are the two girls in the role of Marie abandoning their company to financial ruin!”

“What?”

“We lost three dancers in a single night! The audacity of those girls,” she said, shaking her head. “Beika Ballet Company is family. Fleeing in cowardice does not have consequences for just them, but for the entire Company!”

It took Shinichi a long second to parse that. “The understudies quit?” he asked.

“Citing murder as the reason! Murder!” she said, throwing her hands up into the air. “As if dozens of other dancers haven’t put their blood, sweat, and tears into this performance!”

“But you’re still rehearsing?” Shinichi said, confused.

“Hmph. Only because Kuroba knows the role well enough to dance Marie. It is unusual, but he is willing. However, you are interrupting.” She put her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”

“Oh right, uh, we came into some new information, so I thought I’d ask some follow up questions, if that’s alright.”

She turned her head and yelled at her danseurs. “Kuroba! Itō! Come answer Detective Kudō’s questions!”

Kuroba and Itō stopped mid-routine. Itō drank from a closed water bottle as Kuroba toweled off. Sweat dripped down his bare chest. Shinichi licked his lips. “Ah, Detective! You enjoyed my company so much, you had to come back for more, huh?” he said, breathless from exertion.

His words made Shinichi flush a deep red. He cleared his throat, ignoring him. “Madame, were you aware that Satsuma-san had cancer?”

“She what?” Kuroba asked, teasing expression gone, face now pinched in distress, at the same time the Madame closed her eyes, letting out a slow exhale, tilting her head back.

After a long moment, she said, “No, I was not. I knew that she’d been seeing a specialist of some kind but I thought it was simply about her headaches, nothing more. Though I suppose it still was, in a sense.”

Hmm. That didn’t feel right. “Kuroba, you’re pretty in tune with everyone here. Do you think anyone else had an inkling?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think anyone knew.”

Madame Yamato harrumphed. "Likely because she knew what I'd do if she came to me with it."

Shinichi frowned. "Fire her?"

"Heavens, no. But it is likely I would have monitored her much more closely and restricted her practices to a certain extent, requiring my presence anytime she was in the studio. She was highly protective of her time.”

That made sense. Shinichi turned to his partner. “Itō, was it? What do you do?”

Despite being rather broad for a danseur, he was quiet and reserved. “I generally perform as part of the ensemble unless I’m required to fill Kuroba-san’s role.”

“Did you know that Kuroba was going to take over Satsuma-san’s role?”

The man shook his head. “That’s why Kuroba-san and I were split from the other dancers. He’s helping me work on it.”

“Kuroba, you’re going to be performing her role, costumes and all?” Shinichi asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Was that your goal?”

“Not quite, no.”

“How do you know the role?”

Kuroba crossed his arms. A defensive move. “I told you, Bela and I were friends. We practiced together during our off hours, that’s all.” He jerked his head at Madame Yamato. “She knew.”

The Madame harrumphed. “I did. And before you get that silly thought in your head, he didn't volunteer. Out of desperation, I asked."

Relief swept through Shinichi. Their preliminary findings had exonerated Kuroba until this new information put him on Shinichi's suspect list again, and he found himself beyond happy that he hadn’t had the intention to become the principal dancer for the show. "So you decided to dance the part even though it could lead to your death?"

"With all due respect, Detective, they're welcome to try." He grinned, wild and manic, and once again, familiarity struck deep inside Shinichi's heart. Who was Kuroba? Why was he so familiar to Shinichi? Why did he feel so drawn to him?

“I don’t mean to interrupt your practice, but I was wondering if I could borrow Kuroba for a more in-depth interview, Madame?”

“Yes. Anything to find out who did this to my dear Isabela,” Madame Yamato said. “Especially when she was already struck with such tragedy, and keeping it to herself. She must have felt so alone.”

“Detective, you hear that? You can have me,” Kuroba joked, and Shinichi blushed again, his face hot, burying his face behind his manila folder. What was with this guy? Why was Shinichi so affected?

“Um, not to intrude, but I do need to make sure I have the main choreography down by tonight,” Itō said.

“Not to worry, Itō. You will be dancing with me,” Madame Yamato said. Itō gulped audibly. “Let us start from six—”

“All right, Detective, here I am,” Kaito said. “Interview away.”

“Can we go to a place that has a little more privacy?” Shinichi asked.

Kuroba stared at him in surprise. “I don’t know. Can we?” Kuroba said. Shinichi sighed, ignoring the gibe at his grammar. Kuroba followed him the short way to the empty studio next door, closing the door behind them. “So, what did you need to know?” he asked, sitting down on one of the chairs near the door and patting the chair next to him.

Shinichi preferred to stand. “You misled me. Sources indicate you did spend a lot of time together with Satsuma,” he said, flipping through the annotated statements of the other investigators.

“Yes. I told you we were friends.”

"You also told me she didn't like you."

"She didn't."

"And you didn't know she was sick?" Shinichi asked.

Anger filled Kuroba; he tensed, his posture stiff. "I wouldn't lie about something like that. That's too disrespectful. I know it's part of your job to ask the same thing in slightly different ways, but really. That’s too much.”

“And you’re continuing in her role despite the risk of your own death?” Shinichi stepped forward towards his chair.

“Who wouldn’t? Someone had to.”

“That’s not a popular opinion.” He stepped forward again until he was almost looming over him.

“What’s this about, Detective?” he asked. “Don’t waste my time. I have very little of it; I could be in rehearsal right now.”

Shinichi was quiet for a minute or two longer, gathering his thoughts, formulating how he was going to say them. Finally, he said, “Something’s off about you, Kuroba. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out.”

He gripped his legs so tightly his knuckles turned white. “So you really think I did it.”

Shinichi laughed, short and sharp. “No, the evidence doesn’t add up.”

“Then why am I here?” he asked, still tense.

“Because I need your help to solve this case,” Shinichi said.

“The lauded detective needs my help to solve a case. Will wonders never cease?” he said, shifting back in the chair, holding his hands up in mock surprise. “What could you possibly need my help for?”

"Live bait," Shinichi said.

Understanding crossed his face. "You're going to use me to draw out her killer."

"You're already doing it anyway; I don’t need you to do anything extra. Just dance tonight."

"I didn't say I had a problem with it. Of course I'll do it," Kuroba said, leaning forward and putting his head on his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

A silence that grew long, Shinichi wracked by indecision. He didn’t want the conversation to end. He wanted to keep talking to him. He wanted to pry him apart, figure out why he made him feel this way. Why did he recognize him? Why did Shinichi want him?

He turned his head and looked up towards Shinichi. "You're still here."

"I'm not finished with you," Shinichi said, taking a last step forward, something wild welling in his heart. He was in Kuroba's space now. What would he do?

Kuroba stood up. "What else could there possibly be?" he asked, bewildered. “I already agreed, didn’t I?”

Shinichi slammed his palm against the wall, leaning in close. “Who are you?”

“Kuroba Kaito—”

“Bullshit!” Shinichi said. “I know you. I know you. Who are you?”

“I don’t think I can give you any answer you’re going to accept,” Kuroba said quietly. He wouldn't meet his eyes.

“Did I meet you on another case? Were you in one of my university classes? Who are you?” Shinichi asked, almost desperate, leaning even closer.

Something in Kuroba’s face changed. His eyes grew sly, half-lidded, and he smirked. “My, my, Detective. How quickly we forget, hmm?”

And then Kuroba closed the distance between them, kissing him.

Shinichi gasped, shocked at the turn things had taken, and Kuroba used that to his advantage, running his tongue over his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth.

Oh. He was still shirtless, dressed only in leggings and ballet shoes. Shinichi wrapped his arms around him, running his hands down that perfect back. He kissed like a professional, and heat surged through Shinichi’s body, warming him to his toes.

Shinichi pressed him back, only for Kuroba to yelp and lose his balance over the legs of the chair. Shinichi grasped at him desperately, and he pitched forward, knocking them both to the ground, hard.

“Ow,” Shinichi groaned, seeing stars. He’d fallen flat and hit his head on the floor. Having better balance, Kuroba had straddled his stomach trying to catch himself. Both of Shinichi’s hands cupped his—there was nothing but bare skin under those leggings.

“Do you not wear anything under that?” Shinichi asked, highly interested.

“Do you think that I’m nak—I’m wearing a dancer’s belt,” Kuroba said, exasperated. “For support. Otherwise there’d be unsightly lines all over the place!”

“Oh,” Shinichi said, blinking. That made sense. He supposed that's what he got for thinking with the wrong head. Then he said, “I’m on duty and you’re a person of interest in this case.”

It was more to remind himself than anything else, but Kuroba said, “I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t think you did,” Shinichi said. Then he rested his injured head against the floor. “But I’m still on duty.”

“And your hands are still on my ass,” Kuroba said, voice wry.

“In my defense, it’s a nice ass,” Shinichi said, squeezing it. Very firm, very round.

“Be careful, Detective. I might get ideas,” Kuroba purred, leaning down to press a kiss on the corner of Shinichi’s mouth. Shinichi shuddered, continuing to massage him.

“Do you want to go to the victim’s apartment with me?” Shinichi asked.

“That’s your idea of a first date?” Kuroba said, shaking his head. But he was grinning.

“Please?”

“I’d love to, but I really do need to rehearse,” Kuroba said, forlorn. “And you need to catch my friend’s killer, hmm?”

“But—”

“What if it really is me?” He pinched Shinichi’s nose and rattled his head. “Get your head back into the case.”

“It is!” Shinichi said, voice nasal. “And I know it’s not you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in this position!” Really though, Kuroba had a fantastic ass.

“Think of me as a reward for a job well done then.” He put his hands on his hips. “Now, really, Detective. I’m going nowhere. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Be a good boy and go solve this case for me, okay?” He patted Shinichi’s cheek. “I know it’s what you love to do, and you’ve never let me down yet.”

“Who are you?” Shinichi murmured, heart warm.

“You find it a lot more fun to figure it out yourself,” Kuroba said, trailing his fingers down his neck. “What I want to know is if you interview all your suspects this way.”

That cinched it. Kuroba knew him. “Of course not. Just you.”

"Mmm. Detective, I'm honored." He bent down and kissed him again.

Shinichi hadn't felt like this in so long. He didn't get attached to strangers like this. But he knew Kuroba, somehow from somewhere, and Kuroba knew him in return.

With some reluctance, Kuroba stood, and then he helped Shinichi gather his papers. He paused at one sheaf stapled together, flipping through. "Oh, you really did clear me."

Shinichi nodded. "Eyewitness reports, including mine, corroborate you never left the stage during the time she was suspected to have been poisoned. You have some suspicious gaps in your schedule but everyone is entitled to a little privacy. If you're a criminal, it's for some other crime."

Kuroba laughed. He had a beautiful laugh. “Would that be a problem?” he said, his voice low, and Shinichi’s brain pinged.

It struggled futilely in the presence of Kuroba’s half-naked body, though. "Depends on what it is. I ought to get you for public indecency."

"Not yet. But if you stay—"

Point taken. Shinichi needed to leave for his own sanity. Before he left, though, he touched that chest of his, ghosting his palm across his lean, toned body before pulling him into another kiss.

"Bring your water bottle when you dance tonight, but don't drink anything," Shinichi ordered. "Make it believable, though."

"Yes, sir," Kuroba said. "You'll find I'm very good at pretending." He kissed him again.

Shinichi really needed to go, though. “I’ll walk you back next door,” he said, finding his hand.

Kuroba gave it a gentle squeeze as they turned to walk out of the studio. “I’ll be waiting for you, Detective. Go solve this.”

With one last longing gaze, Shinichi left him behind.

Naturally, the first thing he did was call Ran. "Ran, I'm gay?" he confessed, bewildered. It was a question, more than anything.

"I don’t think so," she said, thoughtful. "You seemed genuinely attracted to me. You’re bisexual, maybe?"

…That actually made him feel a little better. Less like the world was falling out from under his feet. Both. He could live with that.

"Tell me what happened," she continued, and Shinichi did. She didn't actually laugh at him, but she had warmth in her tone when she said, "Shinichi, honey, it's not the end of the world."

"It feels like it," he muttered, petulant.

"He kissed you back, right?"

"Yes."

"And he seemed just as interested, right?"

"Yes."

"So what's the problem, here?"

"Other than him being a suspect in this case?" Shinichi asked. "Everything."

She laughed. "Don't be so melodramatic. You have a good eye, Shinichi. He was clearly into you from the beginning."

Shinichi blinked. "He was?"

"Shinichi, I think the only reason he didn't crawl all over you was the circumstances in which you met. The desire in that gaze, whew!"

"Huh," Shinichi said, stunned. "Really?"

"Really."

"All right, then." He cleared his throat.

An awkward silence.

"Thanks, Ran."

"No problem. And Shinichi—congratulations, really."

"Thanks," he said quietly.

They said their goodbyes, and Shinichi hung up.

Kuroba, however, lingered on Shinichi’s mind as he drove to her apartment.

It was a small complex on the edge of the sixth block, maybe seven floors. She lived on three, and Shinichi snapped on gloves, using her key to get in. They’d already processed her apartment last night, but maybe they’d missed something.

Her presence was minimal here just like in the rest of her life. It was like she was hardly there; what was there wouldn’t look out of place in a home design magazine. Very little personal touches. The design itself was minimalist, utilitarian. Small. He wandered through the space, and the only spot of color and spontaneity was in her closet. But even there, the fashionable clothes felt sorely out of place, like they needed to be hidden from the rest of the world.

It had two bedrooms; the second bedroom was a study replete with a desk. The top of it was clear, still no photos or personal items or even papers. There was tidiness, and then there was austerity, and it was clear which way Satsuma Isabela tended.

He stood in the study, stroking his chin, thinking about what their investigation had uncovered about her. She was half-Japanese, estranged from her family on both sides who hadn’t liked the marriage between her parents. Her parents themselves had died about a decade ago when she was a teenager, both of them succumbing to their injuries in a terrible car accident.

Neither side of her family had wanted her, so she’d petitioned the court to emancipate her, and Madame Yamato had taken her in since she was the most promising member of the company.

It really seemed such a sad and lonely life.

He turned, and a framed diploma on the wall caught his eye. “A degree in biochemistry,” he said to himself.

Looking back at the desk, he rifled through the drawers, looking for something, anything.

In the second drawer of the heavy desk, in a stack of correspondence, was a letter from a professor at Teitan University, handwritten with the Teitan letterhead. Shinichi skimmed over it. It stated that of course she was free to use any of the labs on campus at any time, despite the fact her life had taken her down other avenues. She’d have to have something to do after she aged out of dancing, after all.

A degree in biochem. Access to a lab. Terminal cancer and a flair for the dramatic. That meant—

Huh.

Well. It didn’t preclude other options, and it was only circumstantial so far, but Shinichi thought he’d figured out the case.

Now for the final piece.

The night came wet and windy. Shinichi huddled in his raincoat and umbrella and the rain still hit him in sheets, leaving him damp as he walked the short way to the performer entrance and dithered around backstage.

Despite that fact, it was a packed house. Satsuma’s death and Kuroba’s unusual replacement had brought a lot of people interested in the spectacle to the show.

Through the stage lights, Shinichi watched the officers station themselves on multiple levels, interspersed with security.

Backstage, Madame Yamato barked last minute orders. Itō was in costume, Ishida and Miyamura were right there, but where was Kuroba?

They all had small 250mL PET bottles, drinking them in one sitting if they needed to.

Kuroba then drifted out of Satsuma's old dressing room with a sports bottle in his hand, and Shinichi's heart stopped.

He was taller than the average ballerina, yes, but if Shinichi hadn't known he was dancing the part of Marie, he would have been firmly convinced the person in front of him was a woman.

Shinichi only knew of two people in the world with that level of skill, and only one was a man.

Kaitō KID.

He'd kissed Kaitō KID.

He blushed, warmth spreading down to his toes. He'd missed Kaitō KID. His heists hadn't stopped, but they'd slowed significantly. Shinichi guessed the grueling practice schedule of a danseur was the reason why. Much to his regret, Shinichi hadn't been able to go to any since before he finished university.

It was nice to see him again, Shinichi mused. He laughed at himself. More than nice, actually, since that was an understatement. He'd been joking about the criminal thing, but KID was harmless. He was glad, too, of the realization that it offered; the facts had been on Kuroba's side, but Shinichi knew KID would never kill anyone if he could help it.

No wonder he was hesitant about Shinichi figuring out his identity. Idiot. Like Shinichi would try to catch him outside a heist. Besides, that wasn’t his purview as a detective. He had no interest in thieves. Well. At least not in that way.

Kuroba—the Kaitō KID—met Shinichi’s eyes and nodded. That meant they’d finished setting the cameras up while the rest of the performers had been distracted. Kuroba was the only one that knew.

He set his water bottle backstage in a spot deliberately set up to be lightly guarded.

The lights went down and the show began.

Kuroba was beautiful like this. Graceful, delicate, floating, perfect. Shinichi thought he could watch him forever. Such power, such form…Shinichi wondered what brought him here, that ballet was his day job? He made a note to himself to ask.

They made it to the battle with the Rat King, Shinichi waiting for it, impatient. Kuroba was the lynchpin of their plan and it was almost time to begin.

Kuroba leapt up, shocked by the entrance of Ishida in his menacing Rat King costume, eyes glowing a fearsome red. Itō stood in front of him protectively, defending “Marie.”

Wait for it.

The heated battle raged across the stage, the dancers twirling in perfect choreography.

Then as the scene began to ebb, Kuroba staggered across the stage in an exaggerated faint, falling to the floor and ending the scene, right on cue.

The lights went down. Someone laughed, evil and menacing, echoing across the stage. The lights came back up. Kuroba didn’t move.

Murmurs filled the audience, harmonizing with the susurrus of whispers. Kuroba still didn’t move. Itō hovered over him, unsure what to do.

They couldn’t have their ruse discovered early, so Shinichi himself crossed the stage. The murmurs from the audience grew. He knelt before Kuroba and felt his pulse.

“He’s dead,” Shinichi said grimly.

Shock from the audience and the stage; Madame Yamato let out a wounded cry. “No one leaves,” Shinichi said. “Officers, remain at the exits. The killer is here.” He paced back and forth in front of Kuroba’s body. The spotlights centered on him; he was in his element. They’d wanted to dramatize this, so Shinichi would.

“Inspector Takagi. Is the projector set up?”

“Yes, Detective,” Takagi said. He couldn’t see her fierce grin from here, but he imagined she was wearing it.

“How’s the feed?”

“It caught everything,” Takagi said. She pressed a button, and the white backdrop lowered. He heard another click of the line, and the projector started to play.

Kuroba’s water bottle was centered in the middle of the frame. The time stamp was a little over thirty minutes ago. Ishida, in the rat costume but with his face bare, hunched over it like a rat, dribbling something from a clear capsule into it.

“I’d say that’s proof, wouldn’t you?” Shinichi said, his voice cold. “Officers?” They came towards him from every direction on the stage, leaving him no place to run.

“It wasn’t me! I’ve been framed!” he said, but the proof was right there, playing in a forty second loop above them all.

“Take him away. I think we’re done here,” Shinichi said, mouth twisted in a feral grin, and they did.

The audience clapped. It was acknowledgement he didn’t need, and only half the story besides. Maeda and Ishikawa were confirming the other half of it at Ishida’s apartment as they waited.

Shinichi turned back towards Kuroba and held out a hand. Kuroba rose and took it to the audience’s gasp, and Shinichi helped him to his feet. Kuroba bowed, Shinichi following, and then they left the stage.

“Thank you,” Kuroba murmured.

Shinichi pulled him close, uncaring of who was watching, and whispered in his ear. “No, thank you, Kaitō KID.”

Kuroba’s smile could have lit up the sun. Shinichi reluctantly left his embrace.

The show continued from that point on, rolling back to the beginning of the scene, Ishida’s understudy coming out to replace him.

Shinichi left Haido Recital Hall without looking back, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

Later that night, he’d just gotten out of the shower when he heard a rattling knock on the window in his bedroom. Clutching his towel tightly, he crept to his door, opening it slowly, only to see one Kuroba Kaito standing on his windowsill, framed by the high arch, curtains fluttering in the breeze.

His gaze was molten, dragging over Shinichi long and slow. Shinichi laughed and shook his head. He always had to be dramatic.

“Come on in, it’s cold out there,” Shinichi said, shivering from the cool air hitting his damp body.

“Are you sure?” Kuroba said, hands in his pockets. “I died tonight. You might be letting in a vampire.”

An undignified snort. “I’ll take that chance,” Shinichi said as Kuroba came in, Shinichi locking the window behind him. “What brings you here?”

“What you did,” Kuroba trailed off, licking his lips. “What you said. That wasn’t everything. I know that wasn’t everything.”

Ah, of course. For someone that prided himself for being just a thief, he was awfully nosy sometimes. "We rushed the labs. I got the results just before I arrived tonight. Satsuma had eight times the lethal amount of cyanide in her system."

"Eight times?" Kuroba said, frowning.

"Eight times," Shinichi confirmed, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the bed, where they both sat down. His skin was cold. Had Kuroba been waiting out there the whole time? He entwined their fingers together. "Two capsules. She was poisoned twice."

Kuroba stilled, grip tightening. "You're not saying what I think you're saying."

Shinichi squeezed back, sympathetic. "I'm sorry. She took her own life."

"But you just arrested Daisuke for her murder."

"He killed her," Shinichi said. "The same way he tried to kill you. We just don't know which dose killed her."

"But for me, it's attempted murder."

"Yes."

"So it's imperative that you get him on something definitive."

"Also yes. The sentence is much longer, and I don’t want him out there."

"Why did he try to poison me, then?"

"Seething, raging jealousy. We have his blog posts. They're essentially a declaration of intent towards both you and her. He thought you were dating."

"I already told you that we weren’t, Detective—"

Shinichi cupped his cheek as Kuroba leaned into his hand. He swept his thumb across his cheek, letting his hand linger for a moment before trailing it down his arm and finding his hand again. "Oh, I know. Anyway, it’s circumstantial, but it proves motive and intent beyond reasonable doubt. Satsuma was the one that sourced the cyanide, through the lab at the university, and through her, he had access to it. Since we didn't find them at her apartment, I'm betting they'll be at his."

"And if they're not?"

"We have him anyway," Shinichi said, waving him off. “The circumstantial evidence is enough to prove he did it. No one else had that kind of access.” He sighed. "It's sad. She broke up with him when she found out her cancer was inoperable, not wanting him to watch her die. She couldn't bear chemotherapy and how it would affect her.”

“And he thought she broke up with him to pursue me,” Kuroba said.

“Exactly,” Shinichi agreed. “It’s a tragedy all around.”

Kuroba pulled away, putting his face in his hands, leaning forward, sighing. “Why does this always have to happen to my friends?” he said, voice muffled. “It doesn’t matter what I do. Is death going to continue to follow me around everywhere?”

Shinichi had had such thoughts. They stayed with him, even now. “It doesn’t do you any good to dwell,” he said, scooting closer, rubbing his hand up and down Kuroba’s back. “You’re not responsible for the actions of other people.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

“I’m certain.”

Kuroba harrumphed. “If you say so.” He let out another mournful sigh, resting his head on Shinichi’s shoulder. Shinichi’s arm snaked around his waist, and he held him tightly, offering silent support.

They sat in silence for another few minutes before Kuroba raised his head again. “You know,” Kuroba said, “I keep expecting you to comment on what you said, on seeing me tonight.”

“What do you want me to say? I said it depends on the crime,” Shinichi said. “What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, arrest me?”

“I work in homicide, not theft,” Shinichi said. “Besides, it doesn’t count if I don't catch you at a heist.”

“I see,” Kuroba said, sounding like he didn’t see at all. “And you stopped coming to heists.”

“Exactly!” Shinichi said, pleased that he got it.

Another long silence, this time with Kuroba examining him like he was something under a microscope.

The answer suddenly came to him. “Oh, are you upset I stopped coming to heists?” Shinichi asked.

Kuroba shuttered his expression. His face was inscrutable. “...No,” he said.

“You were,” Shinichi said in realization. “You totally were!”

“No,” he repeated more firmly.

“You had a crush on me, even then!” Shinichi felt heady, triumphant. Wow. After all this time, KID had still—wow.

“No!” Kuroba said again with even more emphasis.

“That’s why you were flirting with me,” Shinichi said, caught up in the rush of deduction. “You never expected to see me again and were taking advantage of the opportunity!”

Kuroba sighed again. “If you say so. You’re the one obsessed with my ass.” It was a weak rejoinder, and Kuroba knew it.

“How did you end up a danseur, anyway?” he asked. “I thought for sure you’d be a magician.”

“And that’s exactly why I picked up ballet again,” Kuroba said. “I wasn’t kidding about my mother putting me into classes when I was younger in order to build up my strength and flexibility. I also took gymnastics.”

“I see. Your mother’s the Phantom Lady, right?” Shinichi tilted his head. Kuroba nodded. “So that was her way of training you.”

“One of them, yes.”

“And that’s your way of hiding who you are.”

“Something like that. I figured it wouldn’t take you too much to get it,” Kuroba said. “I keep up to date with my tricks, but given the bias and stereotyping around danseurs, you will understand exactly why I chose it as a career path.”

“It’s a great way to mask who you really are. And given your skills at mimicry, and your ability to learn and retain information, you become a genius of ballet,” Shinichi said.

“And hard work. Don’t forget hard work. Coming back to it so late, I had a lot of catching up to do,” he said. “Madame Yamato was a great help. I’m so happy it wasn’t her,” he said.

Shinichi stroked his side. “She’s like a mother figure to you, isn’t she?”

"She's good to her Company. She’s been more my mother to me than my mother has been in a long time."

“Did you have any idea who it was?” Shinichi asked.

“No,” Kuroba said. “Like I told you before, I wanted to think the best of everyone. I couldn’t possibly think any one of them did it, because that would mean the people I trusted with my own heart were failable, and I just—”

He leaned his head onto Shinichi’s shoulder again. “I’m tired of murder, that’s all.” He sighed yet again. “It’s a dark and bloody magic, the taking of a life, and everyone suffers.”

Shinichi tightened his arm around his waist. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Kuroba said, shifting over, pulling Shinichi closer, kissing his cheek next to his ear. “What I’m more surprised about is you flirting back, being so bold as to slam the wall next to my head. What is this, a romance manga?”

“Hush, you,” Shinichi said. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Or hentai, the way you were fondling me,” Kuroba said with a purr, trailing his hand down Shinichi’s chest. “You’ve gained a little weight, Detective.” He pinched Shinichi’s stomach between his finger and his thumb. "Too many doughnuts while out chasing innocent thieves?”

“Ha. Ha. No,” Shinichi said.

“Too bad. It’s cute.”

“Says the one that came in through my window. What kind of a person are you?”

“You didn’t bother to put on clothes, either. It’s like you knew who I was,” Kuroba said. “Were you trying to seduce me with your wily detective ways?” He licked the shell of his ear. Shinichi giggled, and then coughed, trying to hide the ridiculous sound.

But it was too late. Kuroba already caught it, his smirk driving Shinichi insane. “First of all, who else would come through my window?” Shinichi said. “Secondly, it’s three in the morning. You had to have been waiting for me to come home to surprise me. I bet you waited until just as I was in the shower too. Pervert,” Shinichi said, his neck heating up. He’d blushed more in the past few days than he had in the last several years.

“Maybe you caught me,” Kuroba said, shifting back and nuzzling his stomach. “Worth it to see you like this, I think.”

“Shut up,” Shinichi said, clutching at his towel. “I don’t have time to exercise like I used to.”

Kuroba blinked, pulling away and looking looking up. “You think that’s an insult, my dear?”

“Is it not?” Shinichi asked, crossing his arms over his bare torso and hunching in on himself.

“Not hardly,” Kuroba purred, spreading his arms apart and pushing him down to the bed.

Shinichi’s whole body was on fire from his words. KID was just too much! And here Shinichi thought he hadn’t changed. Stupid, audacious criminal! “Kuroba, be careful! The towel might slip!”

Kuroba tilted his head. “That sounds like a bonus, honestly,” he said, and then he straddled him, cupping Shinichi’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

The kisses before had been excellent, Shinichi was sure, but that was nothing compared to the ones now, the ones with knowledge of just who Kuroba was. It sent fire coursing through his entire body, and he stared up at Kuroba, warm with the knowledge of just who he was.

It was divine, utter bliss, to have the thief under his hands. How had he lied to himself for so long? How had he not realized that this is what he was after, that this is what he was missing?

He hated that it was murder brought them back together, but there was a part of him that was fiercely glad. Kuroba Kaito, the Kaito KID, was a good man, a kind man with a lovely smile and a brilliant mind. To have him back in his life—

He ignored the part of him that said he was the hottest man that Shinichi had ever seen.

Certainly, Kuroba had been a major source of discovery about himself. Kuroba had stoked those uncertain feelings Shinichi had always carried for him into a major flame.

After all this time, maybe the thing Shinichi always felt was attraction. That desire to challenge KID, to have him look at Shinichi and absolutely no one else. Maybe it wasn’t about the challenge at all, the desire to have KID’s focus solely on him. Maybe Shinichi’s crush was the secondary reason he’d never found time to go back to KID’s heists after a certain point.

He was in love. He’d been in love this whole time. And after so long without contact with him, he'd felt aimless. Unsteady.

His friendships were great, especially with Ran and Hattori, there were no doubts about that, but sometimes he wanted something more. Something soft and intimate. Something like this. Lips, soft and pliant and hot against his own. A hot body on top of his, wandering hands that explored his body with thorough care. And the nicest ass Shinichi had ever seen on anyone.

Kuroba kissed him hot and languid and slow, taking his time. He kept his hands above the waist, but they did wander, lingering and exploratory.

Shinichi wondered just what exactly he was exploring. He didn’t have the body of an athlete anymore, not like Kuroba did.

Kuroba didn’t seem to mind, though, a soft smile lighting up his entire face as he gazed into Shinichi’s eyes. He looked at Shinichi with awe, like he was some sort of precious thing.

“Look at you, my detective,” he said. “Look at you.”

The fondness in his eyes was too much; Shinichi had to look away. He couldn’t help it. It was just too much. Too real. Too…everything. He was everything. And he was here with Shinichi, in his room, in his arms.

Shinichi felt alive again, more than he had in such a long time.

He hadn’t died tonight. He hadn’t forgotten about him. By all accounts, he’d missed Shinichi. He’d even pined for him, if Shinichi had understood him.

"Stay?" Shinichi asked.

"Of course," Kuroba said, leaning down and pressing his face against his.

Shinichi trembled. This thing growing between them was soft and delicate like a flower. He exhaled slowly.

An amaryllis, perhaps. Two different flowers that shared the same name, once considered similar but split over time. Perhaps KID was the true amaryllis, the African flower. And perhaps Kuroba was really the hippeastrum, common name amaryllis.

It stayed dormant all summer in the northern hemisphere and bloomed at Christmas, carrying on into the spring.

Would this affair carry into spring? Shinichi didn't know. He wanted it to. Desperately.

"Forever?" he asked.

"If you want," Kuroba said, and he untucked Shinichi's towel, and pulled it away.

And the rest was lost to the night.

#kaishin #detective conan #dcmk #ksss22 #kuroba kaito #kudo shinichi0 #ballet au #case fic #murder mystery #identity reveal #sentinel writes

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