Be careful making wishes in the dark, can't be sure when they've hit their mark
-My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark, Fallout Boy
ヽ(*'∀')ﾉ┌┛
Moments Before....
Her name, shouted again and again, brought her back to her senses. Someone familiar, someone close. He grunted, struggling, and shouted again, "Ran, you have to get up! We need to get out of here!"
She slowly returned to consciousness, a constant, intense heat surrounding her. She blinked her eyes open only to close them again, squinting against the smoke. She tried taking a breath but inhaled the smoke around her. She coughed and cried out in pain— a weight on her chest, her legs, her torso pinned her down. Her whole body, save her head, was trapped under a slab of the ceiling.
Someone grunted. The rock shifted. Ran craned her neck to see her potential rescuer, a flame-licked-ash-smeared-once-white coat next to her head. Tousled hair, indigo eyes streaming from frustration and smoke. She knew it wasn't him, but his face sent her heart into overdrive.
The thief had the nerve to wear Shinichi's face.
With a cry of anger, Ran braced her arms and exploded from beneath the ceiling slab. (She wasn't the captain of the karate team for nothing.) She threw it off of her with a burst of incredible energy, and the one wearing Shinichi's face stared at her in awe.
"Ojo-sama, you're incredible."
Tears in her eyes (only from smoke, she told herself), she glared daggers at him. "Don't 'ojo-sama' me. We need to get out of—" a wave of dizziness attacked, and Ran swayed heavily.
Not-Shinichi lurched forward, caught her. "Ran-san, then. You're correct. We need to get out of here. You're likely concussed with a few bruised bones. Freeing yourself was impressive, but your body didn't seem to like it. I'll carry you out of here."
Dazed, she didn't protest as he brought her into a fireman's carry. She shut her eyes against the smoke, blinding flames, the charred corpses she knew were there (burning flesh is not a smell easily forgotten). He jumped and ducked, dodged falling rubble and weaved through the desolate restaurant. She yelped only once when he misjudged the size of the front door and she hit her head.
After minutes that felt like hours that felt like seconds all at the same time, a cool night air blew past her face. The idiot of a thief set her down on the ground. His jacket a pillow under her head, ever so gently covering her with a shock blanket, he called for Sayaka.
Ran squinted, delirious from a lack of oxygen. Shinichi spoke with a woman with a halo of white hair. She passed him a black cloth before he ran back into the building. Ran sat up, reached for him. "Shinichi! Don't go! Don't leave me!"
A comforting hand on her back, another on her forehead. "Shhh, love. It's alright. Keiji-san has had training. He'll be fine. Trust me, love. He's more than he looks." Sayaka put herself between Ran and the building, blocked Ran's view. "I'm sure he'll be just fine."
She guided Ran's movements, laid her back down. "Don't worry, love. He'll come back. The ones that care do, no matter what."
( ▼ヮ▼)
Hikaru laid Ran down on a patch of ground miraculously clear of debris. "Sayaka!" he shouted. Placing his jacket under Ran's head, covering her with an emergency blanket, he looked up to see the bartender running towards him.
"Keiji-san, that you?" she asked over the roaring of the flames.
He nodded, his disguise melted off long ago. "The man I look like is supposedly dead. I might be targeted if people thought I was him. His job is dangerous," he offered as a brief explanation. "In any case, I think I saw someone moving inside. I'm going back in to help."
Sayaka pulled out a black handkerchief. "Here, love. For the smoke, and to hide your face."
He couldn't help but smirk. "Do I want to know what you use this for?"
She waved him away. "I've washed it since then. Don't worry about it now. Go. I'll watch her."
"Thank you." His hand brushed Sayaka's shoulder for a moment. He rose to his feet again and ran back into the building.
A desperate cry from behind him. "Shinichi, don't go! Don't leave me!"
Hikaru winced, paused before he delved into the hellfire. "Apologies, ojo-sama, but I am not who you think I am." He tied the bandana around his face and went inside.
Barely recognizable as the crystalline palace it had been less than half an hour ago, the restaurant had fallen to ruin. The devil had truly descended upon the building and made it his home. A red haze coated the smoldering chairs, broken glass, shattered dinnerware. Smoke hung thick in the air, forced Hikaru to duck as he ran. The flames licked at the ceiling, threatened to bring it down upon his head. (He knew it was structurally sound enough to withstand another possible bomb blast and eight more minutes of battering from the fire. He wasn't positive why he knew such a thing- chalked it up to paranoia.)
Another thing he knew from scoping out the restaurant: the radical politician Miki Yasuhiro sat two tables away from him and Ran while they ate. He knew the blast likely hadn't killed Miki because of the positioning of the support beams, but the smoke would end him if Hikaru didn't move quick enough.
At last, Hikaru made out Miki's large frame, motionless on the ground next to an overturned table. Something moved behind the table. Hikaru hoped it was a trick of the shadows and crept closer, tried to get to the politician. He reached for Miki's neck, praying he'd find a—
"He's already dead."
Hikaru looked up sharply. A figure rose from behind the table, thickset and clothed in black. He glared down at Hikaru, flames reflecting off his oxygen mask, his mirrored goggles.
Hikaru should have been scared. He should have abandoned the dead body in front of him and fled the building. But no fear pierced his heart, no terror rooted him to the spot. A fierce... courage? determination? burned in his chest instead. Hikaru's fists clenched, muscles tensing, not to flee, but to fight. "Who are you? What did you do to him?" he demanded.
"Nothing compared to what I've been ordered to do to you if you don't start obeying our organization's demands." The man stepped around the table stood on the other side of the corpse. He crouched down, got level with Hikaru. "We let you continue your work for a reason. You are a..." the man paused. "Let's say valuable asset. If you wish to continue, stop fooling around like a child," he spat, "or someone you care about will have an unfortunate accident."
"Why'd you kill him?" whispered Hikaru to the man with eyes of a demon.
Beneath the oxygen mask, the man smirked. "Not me. The smoke did him in, kid. Now." He stood again, turned to leave. "Keep up the work, Kuroha Hikaru. Our organization knows who you are and who you care about. If you start slipping, that little lady just might have some trouble waking up ever again."
Hikaru lurched for the man, fished in his pocket for anything to stop him. As if sensing his intention, the man said over his shoulder, "You'll let me leave quietly or find that crows are much smarter than any dove."
The man in black stole silently into the shadows. Hikaru did not pursue. He sat stock still for four beats before rousing himself and running from the burning building.
( ▼ヮ▼)
Fingering the cuffs of her sleeves, Sayaka took a breath only when a thin masked figure emerged from the building. "Yokatta," she murmured. "Keiji-san!"
Hikaru coughed, eyes streaming from the smoke. "Sayaka. Where is—?"
She nodded to an ambulance behind her. "She's being treated right now. There weren't enough ambulances to get everyone to the hospital. They're treating her here along with four others."
Hikaru wrung his hands, wiped at his watering eyes. "But how is she?"
She softened. "Breathing, alive, but still unconscious. She didn't inhale a lot of smoke thanks to you, so they think she'll be able to go home tonight."
"Kuroha-kun," called a large man from a crowd of uniforms and badges. "You got here quickly," Chiba said as he jogged over.
Hikaru tipped his head. "Chiba-san. I was inside when the restaurant was bombed. Ran-san is being treated now. I'd like to leave with her as soon as possible, but I'll tell you what I saw while I was inside."
Chiba nodded, spared a glance for the bandana over Hikaru's face. "Anything useful?"
Hikaru stood a little straighter, his stance widening. The cheer faded from his face, his brow furrowing in anger. He gestured to the building with a touch of irritation, a dash of annoyance. "Two men wore large coats when they entered. They went into the kitchen and came out about twenty minutes later in staff uniform. One blew himself up in the center of the restaurant and I assume the other did the same in the kitchen. They got the alcohol from the bar to ignite. It weakened the support beams enough to bring the roof down."
"I know those two," Sayaka added. "I thought it was odd they would come back here. They worked here months ago and got fired after a violent incident with a client. He insulted their co-made dish, and they started swinging."
Chiba frowned. "Was it anyone important, or..."
"Some politician." Sayaka shrugged.
Hikaru glanced back at the building, firefighters finally putting out the flames. "Was it Miki Yasuhiro-san? He sat behind me."
Sayaka crossed her arms, looked at Hikaru with a start. "Now that you mention it, it was. Those two, Ishikawa-san and Kageyama-san, worked here for longer than I have. I started seven years ago. When they were fired, they were furious. If they found out that Miki-san would be here tonight..."
Chiba tapped his pen on his notepad. "It would be an opportunity for double revenge. On the restaurant for firing them and on Miki-san for getting them fired. Thank you, Sayaka-san. Kuroha-kun, as soon as Ran-chan is awake, Toshima-kun can drive you back." He gestured to the squadron of police cars at the curb.
Hikaru tucked his hands into his pockets, looked over his shoulder at the makeshift clinic. "She's fine, likely needs oxygen for about fifteen minutes more. I'll take her back to my house. It's closer. I'll give a full report tomorrow morning."
Stashing his notepad away, Chiba turned to the police lines. "I'll check with him. I'll be right back."
"Sayaka-san?" An EMT emerged from the clinic. "Your cousin is awake. She is asking for a Kuroha-san."
Meeting Hikaru's eyes, Sayaka mouthed 'Ran-chan.' A short nod, and Hikaru raised his hand. "That's me."
"Follow me." The EMT motioned at Hikaru, and he complied.
As he ducked under the tent flap, Hikaru grimaced. The clinic did little to keep out the stench of ashes and burning flesh. It hung rancid in the air, clashing terribly with the antiseptic and aloe scents that floated through the clinic. To the relief of his nose, the bandana dampened the smell, allowing Hikaru to breathe freely.
Stark white tent walls contrasted with charcoal and rubble that brushed against it. Lights settled in the corners and hung across support beams. They glowed softly, illuminated Ran's blank face.
She lay in the third bed, after two men who each suffered from superficial burns and wounds. The oxygen mask strapped to her face fogged with each breath she took, the only sign of life. She remained immobile, arms stiff at her side. Hikaru stopped a few meters away. She stared at the ceiling. She couldn't see him yet.
"She's incredibly lucky," murmured the EMT. "Aside from some bruises and a few scrapes, she's mostly okay. She will need to stay on oxygen for about fifteen to twenty minutes longer before we check her breathing again."
Readjusting the bandana, Hikaru watched Ran. "A piece of the ceiling fell on her. Is she paralyzed? Any brain injuries?"
"No paralyzation. She consented to a concussion test when she woke, and she does have a mild concussion." The EMT eyed Hikaru's bandana. "Are you her guardian?"
"She's my younger sister," lied Hikaru smoothly. "She's my responsibility. Our parents..." he trailed off, hoping it was enough for the EMT not to press.
Shifting from one foot to the other, the EMT took a great interest in his shoes. "Ah. Well." He tipped his head to Ran. "Avoid sensory overload and activities that would require too much mental strain. Make sure she gets plenty of fluid and plenty of rest. Keep her at home for about a week, and she should be fine."
"She can come home tonight?" Hikaru let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The EMT seemed to relax at Hikaru's relief as if a poser couldn't fake concern for a family member. "Yes. You can speak to her now. Shout if she needs anything." He left to tend to another patient, leaving Hikaru alone. Hikaru secured the bandana once more for good measure, squared his shoulders, and approached Ran's bed.
"I hate you." She didn't look at him as he knelt at her side, didn't quirk an eyebrow when he poofed a stool into existence and sat on it.
"Now, ojo-sa—"
She sat up on her elbows. "No. I said no more ojo-sama. My name is Mouri Ran, and you will take me home."
Wincing, he tried for half a smile. "Is Hana-chan okay? You being such a lovely flower."
"What is it with all the nicknames? Is it impossible for me to be just Ran?" Dropping back down, her hands buried themselves in her hair, her arms blocked her face. She hissed, "I get it. When you're KID, you need boundaries. I can't really be your friend because I don't actually know you. But can you give me a tiny bit of respect? No more patronizing, no more leading me on, no more pretending like you're different from him."
He looked away, the bandana suddenly burning against his skin. He had no true defense against her- he never had. 'Kuroha Hikaru' was only a front, his friendship with Ran only a gateway to the KID Killer. He was never supposed to get this close to her, never supposed to be anything more than a friendly officer to her. The very fact that she felt betrayed was dangerous, and that she trusted him enough not to lie to her. She wanted to be treated like an individual, and equal. Not an informant.
He had one of two options. Appease her and sacrifice everything he had worked for up to this point, or continue with the mission. Everything his family had fought for was at stake. If he slipped, all would be lost. The man in black had reinforced that message.
But you're the Kaitou KID, he told himself. If you can't find a way to have the mission and her trust, you go home and burn the uniform.
He bowed his head, finally reached his decision. "Ran-san. What did I do wrong?"
She groaned in frustration, clenching her hands into fists and pulling at her hair. "You look like him. You pretended that you were different, that you weren't going to lie to me. I know you need to keep your face hidden, but—" She broke off, let out another groan. "You could have said something. You have his face and I am eight seconds and a very good explanation away from punching you."
He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, tapped his foot quietly. "My face looks very much like Kudou-kun's. I wear a mask most of the time because of his dangerous case. If people say he's dead and no one's heard a word from him in almost a year, I don't want to be the one who causes his friends and family to become targeted because he's chasing down the mafia. I wear a mask to protect myself and to keep you from danger."
Ran lowered her arms, and she finally looked at him. Ash smudged across his forehead, indigo eyes ablaze with a passion she couldn't place. He sounded like Shinichi had so many nights ago: painfully honest, begging forgiveness.
"I want Kudou-kun to finish his case quickly just as you do, but until then, I'll keep hiding my face from you. Can you forgive me for such a thing?"
Somehow, despite the hurt and the betrayal, the fact that he lied and how his eye twitched as he asked her to quell her anger, she couldn't stay mad at him for long. She'd dealt with Shinichi for years. A few white lies from a thief wouldn't hurt anyone.
●-●
"Prata. Amburana. How was the mission?"
The two agents sat in cold metal chairs, their superior sitting in darkness across from them. "It went just as expected. The brat got his wake up call, the politician died, and those two eyesores blew themselves up. They'll get their compensation from the devil," Amburana replied. She crossed her legs, laid her hands in her lap.
Prata scowled. "Always the poet. Can't you ever speak normally? You waste time with flowery language. You're starting to sound like Kuroha."
She didn't spare him a glance. "We watched KID for months. I find it more abnormal that you did not pick up a more sophisticated dictionary."
"Children," crooned their superior, "I warned you not to harm one of the people there. Did the flower escape with Kuroha?"
Prata nodded. "We bugged Kuroha. He got her out five minutes after the last explosion."
"Good. Were you seen?" Their superior leaned forward, the dim light catching their sunglasses.
"No one except Kuroha lived to tell the tale. I made sure of it."
Amburana yawned. "Can we get to the next assignment already? I want some okonomiyaki. The stuff in Ekoda and Tokyo is awful."
A grin from their superior. "Of course. Hattori Heiji will help you. Keep an eye on him."
"She's going in the field this time. I did it last time," said Prata stubbornly.
Amburana shrugged indifferently. "I'm better at disguising, anyway. I learned from the best." She motioned to their superior.
Their superior tipped their head in response. "You deploy tomorrow at eight. Get rid of that woman, or the KID Killer will slip through our fingers."
Prata and Amburana stood, bowed in sync. "Understood." Cachaça's underlings left in silence.
The one in black sat there for a moment before they allowed a sigh. "Serial killers are such nuisances."