Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

tropism (ˈtɹoʊˌpɪzəm) n.

1. movement or growth of an organism toward a stimulus (see: phototropism in plants)

2. an innate tendency; a natural inclination

"You really think we're a match?"

"We have to be! Don't you feel it, too? Like fate brought us together here?"

Saki watched the woman seated on the other side of the booth with no small amount of skepticism. This only made her feel guilty—what if she really was Saki's soulmate? What a terrible first impression it would make if she voiced her doubts.

She tried to keep her words as inoffensive as possible: "I hope you'll forgive me; it's just that I don't recognize your face. You say you remember meeting me on the train last week?"

The woman's face fell, just slightly. "It's okay if you don't remember me. It was fairly brief, and I guess it's only expected that you made a bigger impression on me than vice versa."

"I did?"

"Sure," she said, voice lowering as she leaned forward across the table. "You were hard to miss, with the way you were dressed." Her expression was kind—almost apologetic. "And I… may have overheard some of your conversation with those gentlemen you were sitting with."

Saki sighed. "I see."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Hasumi-san." The woman inclined her head.

Saki nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you. It's been hard, but I'm trying to focus on the present, for now."

"That's a healthy attitude."

Saki smiled. "What did you say your name was?"

"Shitomi Akari," the woman smiled in return.

Saki hummed, thinking back. "That does strike me as… somewhat familiar…?"

"Oh! Did I introduce myself when we met? Does your mark show my color?"

Saki peered around the empty diner, then shifted around so that Shitomi—so that Akari could see the back of her shoulder, pulling the sleeve of her sweater down slightly to expose the skin there.

"Ooh, yours is so lovely!" Akari rounded the table to get a closer look. Saki felt herself blush. "I wondered if our colors would compliment each other, but I think they look good!"

"You think so?" She pulled the fabric back into place as her blush deepened.

"I do!"

Saki's smile faltered for a moment. This warmth, this feeling of butterflies—she'd felt this way with her husband, once upon a time. And now he was gone. She didn't want to set herself up for another heartbreak. Not if it was over something as simple as a misunderstanding.

"Is there any way to be sure that we're really soulmates?" She avoided meeting Akari's eyes, but she could still see the way the other woman's posture changed. A slight shift away. Saki didn't want to hurt her feelings, but now her insecurity had already ruined things.

"Would seeing my mark help convince you?"

Saki looked up, finding only gentle, patient gray eyes. "Oh. I— yes, I'd like to see it, if that's alright."

Akari sat on the seat next to her, shifting a jumble of bracelets up her arm to expose the inside of her wrist. "See—same pink!"

It was the same color. Saki reached out to touch the little pink blossom. The color would have appeared when they'd first made eye contact, even if it had just been for an instant. She wished she could remember the moment, but she supposed there were more important firsts in a relationship.

"Yours has such dark petals compared to mine," she laughed, a little breathless. "Oh—" she couldn't believe it had taken so long to realize, "—you don't have my color, yet."

Akari's smile bloomed into a sparkling grin. "Surprise! I must have told you my name on the train, but you never told me yours!"

"But you knew my name when you arrived this morning," Saki remembered, confused.

"I think it only counts if the person tells you directly." Akari shrugged. "Otherwise I would have had your color appear when I saw your listing on Red Threads."

Saki laughed again, embarrassed at having the soulmate-finding website mentioned, but it would be worth it if it turned out to have worked. "I guess you must be right. In that case, would you allow me to…?"

"Oh, I've been waiting all day for this! Please, please do!" Akari sat back, bouncing eagerly in place like a little girl about to receive a birthday gift. She clasped at her marked wrist with her other hand, pinning some of the bracelets in place while the others jumped around with her movements.

Saki fought down more giggles at the ridiculous sight. "Alright, okay! Just sit still for a second! Shitomi Akari," she intoned with as much meaning as she could, "my name is Hasumi Saki."

Akari uncovered her wrist again, showing the magenta petals now surrounded by a softer, lighter pink halo. A direct inverse of Saki's own mark.

"We're really soulmates," Saki said, emotion drawing tears from her eyes.

Akari pulled her into a crushing hug. "I told you so."

৹ ৹ ৹

Kaito was not one to devote much thought to soulmates.

… No, that was a lie. He thought about the concept a lot.

He just didn’t see the need to waste energy imagining what his soulmate would be like.

It was common for young people to speculate wildly about their soul marks (and those of their peers), to theorize about the perceived symbolism behind the lines and hues on the skin that mimicked the shapes of plants. The superstitions surrounding soul marks were enough to support a thriving industry of so-called “experts” providing everything from matchmaking services to fortune telling. No matter that only about half of the population developed soul marks in their lifetimes, or that those who did almost invariably found their match with or without the help. No matter that the “meaning” behind the marks was inconsistent at best, with some appearing purely symbolic while others were almost laughably literal. People would find ways to extract significance—and entertainment—from the speculation regardless.

So it wasn’t Kaito’s fault that he was confronted with the topic on a regular basis. How could it not come up, when he had the misfortune of bearing a mark like his in a place so conspicuous?

“That’ll be four hundred—” a noticeable hitch in the sentence, “—yen, please.”

Kaito tried not to sigh as he slapped a few coins on the counter and took the coffee from the new barista. Most people were too polite to say anything to him directly, but it was always obvious when a person first noticed the mark on his neck. The distinctive outline of a spider lily.

If he weren’t so exhausted from the previous night’s heist, he may have pulled some smiling, flashy little trick to give them something more interesting to remember him by. As it was, he was content to simply move on and forget this exchange ever happened. The white chocolate cinnamon mocha would be the perfect cure for his bad mood, anyway.

“Bakaito! There you are!”

Or, it would have been, if not for the furious typhoon in a pleated skirt stomping toward him down the sidewalk.

“Mornin’, Ahouko,” he plastered on a grin and waved irreverently. “What’s got you worked up so early in the day?”

“You know perfectly well!” Aoko snapped, coming to a halt well inside his personal space. Her small stature meant she had to crane her neck to glare up at him, but this did not diminish the murderous intent emanating from her eyes.

He felt his finger twitch on the paper coffee cup. “If this is about the party, I already told you, I was studying."

"Don't lie to me!" she jabbed a finger under his chin. "You've never studied for schoolwork a day in your life, and we both know it."

Was that praise, disguised as an insult? "Geez, alright," Kaito slouched away from her, taking a pointed sip from his drink. "Don't you know 'studying' is a euphemism for when someone just doesn't feel like socializing?"

Aoko's anger evaporated instantly, and Kaito mentally kicked himself for leaving such an obvious opening. He tried to make his escape by turning on his heel and dodging through the other pedestrians on the sidewalk.

Unfortunately Aoko had known him long enough to anticipate his every move. She followed just an arm's length behind, speaking as if he wasn't actively and rudely trying to avoid her. "Are you doing okay, Kaito? It's not just last night; you never hang out with me anymore—or anyone else, as far as I can tell!"

"I still get out," he said, perhaps a bit too defensively, but it wasn't a lie. He did have a busy extracurricular life.

"It doesn't count if you're all by yourself."

"It's not like I don't have friends."

"Obviously not—I'm your friend, dummy."

Kaito was forced to stop and wait for a crosswalk, taking another long sip from his coffee to avoid having to respond.

Aoko circled around in front of him to look directly at his face. "We are still friends, right?"

Kaito drooped, guilt washing over him as he was confronted with the deep, genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah, of course we are, stupid."

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm—I swear I'm not avoiding you."

"Is it… is it because of Saguru?"

Kaito couldn't help laughing. "What? No, who even cares about that guy?"

"I do!" she stamped her foot, blocking his way forward as the walk signal blinked on. "And that's why I think you're upset!"

Kaito grimaced. He didn't want to rehash this particular conversation, and especially not in public. "Who you choose to date is none of my business, but even if I did mind, that weirdo being there wouldn't be enough to stop me from spending time with you."

Aoko let out a growl of frustration and punched him in the arm. "Then why didn't you come to the party?"

"Because," he flung both hands in the air, flinching as the foamy dregs of his coffee splattered onto the sidewalk. "Maybe I didn't feel like being introduced to new people in some kind of matchmaking scheme!"

Aoko withdrew out of his personal space, the hand over her mouth obscuring her mortified expression. People were shooting them curious or disapproving glances as they began gathering at the street corner again, waiting for the signal to change.

"I know you guys mean well, but it's kind of embarrassing?" Kaito tossed the empty cup over his shoulder without a second glance, and it sailed directly into a nearby bin. "The last time we all went out together, you kept shoving both of those art major friends of yours at me like I was some kind of prize on a gameshow."

She hid further behind her hands. "Was it really that obvious?"

He put his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Ahouko, you spilled a drink on me and then asked Yamaguchi-kun to show me to the washroom."

She made a strangled noise. "I'm sorry, you're right—I went too far! You just seemed so lonely!"

"I don't need a date—"

"It's not just about dating," she sighed, as the walk signal chimed. Kaito beckoned her forward and they began walking side-by-side at a more normal pace.

"You've been getting more and more lost in your own head the past couple of years," she continued, and he could tell just from the tone of her voice that she was fighting the urge to cry. "I worry that I don't even know what you're like anymore."

"Hey, hey! I'm still me." He produced a card—a joker—from thin air, then flipped it around and was suddenly holding a plain, pale blue handkerchief instead. He offered it to her, and after a moment of surprise, she took it. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, not bothering to hide her grateful smile.

"I just thought maybe if we kept trying to expand your social circle, one of them was bound to stick eventually. You're such a funny and interesting guy, Kaito. I know there must be someone out there who can hold your attention."

Kaito's throat felt dry. He and Aoko almost never talked like this. These open compliments. These sincere well-wishes. It wasn't easy to put aside the facetious, clownish mask and actually respond in kind. He figured he owed it to her, though: "I appreciate you looking out for me. I always have."

"Really?"

"You've always been the only one observant enough to notice when I'm feeling down. So I guess if you're saying I look miserable, you must be right."

"I didn't say you looked miserable."

Kaito shrugged. "I guess I can admit I'm in a little bit of a slump right now. Some of the stuff I used to enjoy hasn't been as fun lately."

"What stuff?"

"You know. Hobbies." Heists, he couldn't say.

The concerned look from before had returned. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he insisted as gently and as confidently as he could, hopping up onto the concrete edge of a roadside planter and resuming his stride atop it like a gymnast on a balance beam. "I just don't think forcing myself to make new friends is going to solve anything. That's the kind of thing that you should let happen naturally, you know?"

"'Let it happen naturally'?" Aoko echoed, raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought you didn't put any stock in soulmates."

"I didn't mean it like that," he huffed, though he could feel his face heat slightly. "You're so lucky not to have one of these dumb marks hanging over your head all the time."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Saguru says the same thing, and he doesn't have a mark either. I think all boys are just afraid of commitment."

Kaito made a face right back at her. "At least we're not chronic meddlers like you girls are."

"I'll have you know the spilled drink was Saguru's idea!"

"A-HA!" Kaito dropped down directly into her path and pointed an accusing finger. "I knew that was too crude a ploy for you to have come up with! That bastard just wanted to make me look bad!"

After several more minutes of loud bickering—soothing in its familiarity—they arrived at the station where they would part ways for the day. They said their goodbyes, and Aoko seemed to be appeased, at least for now. Kaito would have to make more time for her and their other old friends soon.

But he couldn't keep his thoughts from circling back to what he'd admitted before. Was he miserable?

He checked the time. He was going to be late for class.

There was no time to worry about his lackluster social life or phantom thief burnout right now. He had a tight schedule to keep, and his work—both as Kuroba Kaito and as Kaitou KID—would wait for nothing.

৹ ৹ ৹

Shinichi wasn’t surprised.

He’d been telling himself for months that it was unlikely—bordering on impossible—and that it didn’t have any bearing on their relationship either way.

So no, he wasn’t surprised that his mark was still colorless after reuniting with Ran for real, in his proper, permanent, Shinichi-sized body. But maybe, deep down, he could admit that he was a little… disappointed.

He’d had the thought, after becoming Conan, that maybe he’d been given a second chance. That the outline of a rose on his neck had been some sort of mistake.

When he’d woken up one day, at the age of ten, to find the new mark in the mirror, he could remember the excitement giving way to confusion as he realized it hadn’t been the orchid he’d been expecting. He’d quickly banished the thought, because who said his soulmate had to be Mouri Ran, anyway?

(And besides, just because the flower didn’t match her name didn’t mean it couldn’t still be her… right?)

But then he’d met her at school the next day, and the rose on his neck remained a simple outline. And even after her own mark appeared a few weeks later—a cascade of wisteria down her left ankle—there was no change. He’d felt a twinge of disappointment each time, but refused to let it bother him.

After all, soulmate didn’t automatically equal romantic partner. Plenty of people were soulmates with their best friends, mentors, or even siblings. There was no reason for Shinichi to expect his soul mark had anything to do with the crush he’d been harboring for Ran for practically his entire life. No reason... except how he’d imagined it for so long that it had almost felt true.

So yes, in his darker moments, when the weight of living a double life, of lying to people he cared about, of being Conan, had started to feel like too much, sometimes he’d looked at the newly bare patch of skin on his thin, child-sized neck and allowed himself to wonder: what if?

When Haibara’s temporary antidotes hadn’t brought about any change—when the hollow rose returned looking just as it had before—he’d started to have doubts, but he hadn’t given up hope even then. Daydreams of meeting Ran after finding the cure, surrounded by red roses, sustained him through some of the most hopeless nights on the Organization’s trail.

Because at the end of the day, she’d been the reason he was fighting, hadn’t she? He wanted his life back. He wanted to be the Shinichi she cared about. He wanted to be with her without any lies or aliases getting in their way.

But then he’d done it. He’d returned to his real body, untainted by any trace of apoptoxin. And he’d called Ran the very next morning, telling her to meet him outside Tropical Land so he could explain where he’d disappeared to for the last three years.

He’d bought roses.

And she’d hugged him, and he’d cried, and he’d summoned the willpower not to glance at her ankle until after he’d given her the explanation he owed.

And it had been awkward, and emotional, and by the end of it all, the phrase “I’m sorry” had stopped sounding like real words.

And Ran had mostly sat there, silent, absorbing the depth of his guilt as it all poured out of him in an unstoppable flood.

And when he was finished, she’d asked him one question: “Do you think it was worth it?”

“Given another chance, I’d do everything exactly the same,” he’d admitted. “I only ever wanted to protect you.”

She’d taken a long minute to process this. Then, with a hesitant smile: “You could at least come up with a better fake name next time.”

He’d laughed, shocked.

Then, still looking unsure, she’d leaned in and given him a peck on the cheek. “I’m not saying you’re completely forgiven. I need some time to think.” His heart sank. “But I am glad to finally hear the truth from your own mouth.”

“R-right. No more secrets, I promise.”

“Good,” and she’d punched him on the arm, a more genuine smile stretching her pretty face for just a moment before she returned to looking thoughtful.

They’d exchanged a few more words before parting, a hopeful but uncertain promise to think about their potential future together.

Shinichi couldn’t help but notice, as she walked away, that her mark still had no color.

He wasn’t surprised.

Just disappointed.

৹ ৹ ৹

Kaito was going through the motions. Heist prep was routine for him by now, but something about it felt especially dull today. He was marking potential exit locations on a set of blueprints he'd copied from an archive, imagining the acrobatics it would take to reach this or that window in an active chase, but his heart wasn't really in it. 

It had been a while since a heist had been fun. 

He tried not to think too deeply about the reasons behind this nagging itch at the back of his mind. It wasn't that the novelty had worn off or anything--Kaito was enough of an artist to keep his tricks fresh and exciting for the audience every time. But things had changed, recently, and when faced with tomorrow's less-than-bombastic job, he could no longer deny the effect it was having on his motivation.  

The target was a faceted aquamarine owned by a woman named Hasumi Saki. She was selling the stone at auction after her husband died of a protracted illness, which was why Kaito was keeping this heist low-key for once. It would be something like a private show for the grieving widow, hopefully to add a little spark of magic to her life before checking the jewel and returning it as usual, no harm done. 

The police probably wouldn't even get involved. 

...How boring.

"Ack, no," he snapped his notebook shut and slapped at his own face a few times to snap himself out of this funk. This one wasn't about his own creeping ennui, it was about doing something nice for the lady while he did the necessary work of searching for Pandora. And with that in mind, it had to be just as special as any other heist. 

Maybe he could do a trick centered on his doves. Those were always a hit when it came to close-up magic--how could they not be, when his little feathered darlings were so charming to all who met them?--and the smaller scale of the job meant maximum safety for the birds. 

Yes, he'd have the doves present her with a necklace of matching jewels to dazzle and confuse her while he made the target vanish. Tell a story about how he had to retrieve something from the other room to put the pieces back together, and that he'd give his naughty birds a good talking to for breaking it apart. 

From there it would just be a matter of getting outside, checking the stone under moonlight, and having the birds return it to the woman with a faux apology note for "making her worry".

And that would be it. One more big jewel crossed off the list. And onto the next one. And the next one.

Easy. Too easy.

He tried not to think about it too much.

Chapter Text

It had been a few weeks since his talk with Ran. Things were… both more and less awkward than before. They'd mutually agreed to call off the whole dating thing for now, while they each tried to adjust to Shinichi being back and to the revelations they'd had during their talk, and Shinichi was… coping.

Maybe a murder case would be just the thing to get his mind off of the subject of soulmates, or the lack thereof.

That's what he'd thought to himself, at least, as he'd agreed to meet Megure at the scene.

It almost felt odd to be called on directly to assist in a case, after so long as Conan. He was used to mostly stumbling upon mysteries by random chance, or covertly tagging along with other detectives. At least it was good to have confirmation that his time "away" hadn't done anything to erode the trust he'd built with the MPD—there would be plenty of time to get back into the swing of things.

The room itself was elegantly furnished, as one might expect from such a prestigious business with wealthy clientele. Subtly textured wallpaper framed a myriad of paintings, their styles and materials varied but nonetheless arranged with a practiced eye to complement each other and the room at large. The furniture was equally precise in each placement, the colors and contours of each chair and accent table left to look as appealing as possible despite the lack of any single cohesive theme.

The aesthetic struck Shinichi as something between an art gallery and a rich socialite's sitting room, which he supposed wasn't too far off. The space was a bit standoffish, maybe, but the eclectic mix of items made it feel a little less sterile.

What did undoubtedly clash with the rest of the decor was the body splayed in the center of the polished floor, as well as the rust-dark smears and puddles that surrounded it.

Under the fluorescent lights of the display room, the details of the crime scene stood out in harsh contrast. A quick glance was all it took to infer the cause of death. The victim—a well-dressed woman, perhaps in her mid-30s—had been shot, directly through the heart.

So far, so simple.

"What's the situation?" he asked as Inspector Megure waved him over. "Any suspects?"

"Good to see you again, Kudou-kun." The man's mustache twitched upward at Shinichi's lack of greeting. "The victim is Hasumi Saki, a wealthy philanthropist and client of the auction house. She was found like this around 8 p.m. after the others in the building heard gunshots."

"Why were there people here so late?"

"Private tours for some of the biggest donors, apparently. And yes, we've gathered up the handful of people who were present at the time of the murder, but that's where things get a little strange."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you see, the only ones around at the time were two other patrons of the auction house, Shirane Mitsuki and his husband, Shirane Kousuke," and here he produced some glossy Polaroids of two men in extravagant suits, both with stricken expressions, "the collections manager who was giving the tour, Katou Hiroshi," another headshot of a reedy, anxious-looking man, "and the woman's soulmate, Shitomi Akari, who was accompanying her here." The final photo was of a woman whose steel-gray eyes appeared dull and heartbroken beneath her smeared makeup.

"What's the strange part?" Shinichi prompted, taking the photos for a closer inspection.

"Well, the manager and the Shiranes were all together at the time of death. The security cameras were malfunctioning when the murder happened, due to a power surge—" Shinichi filed that away to look into later, "—but they've been interviewed separately and their stories all seem to match."

Shinichi felt a sense of foreboding. "And the woman?"

"Got separated from the group when the power went out." Megure chuckled, rubbing at the back of his head. "But that's just it, isn't it? She's the only suspect left, but the victim was her soulmate. It couldn't have been her."

Shinichi rested his chin in one hand, considering. It was true that soulmates were uniquely unlikely to harm each other, but that alone didn't prove innocence. Just because there hadn't ever been a recorded case of murder between soulmates didn't mean it couldn't happen. Maybe it had been a one-in-a-million case. Maybe it had been an accident. "You've verified that this was their relationship?"

The inspector nodded. "Their mark colors match, and the victim's family confirmed for us that she'd recently talked about finding her soulmate as well as about her plans for this auction."

Shinichi merely nodded, turning his attention to the other three suspects. Co-conspirators, perhaps?

"Do we have a motive? What was Hasumi-san buying?"

"Selling," Megure corrected, then shrugged. "And, well, lots of things. Fancy clothes, fancy paintings, fancy jewelry… Her husband was a bit of a collector before he died."

"Husband?" Shinichi echoed, an unwelcome pang shooting through his chest. The reminder that soulmates and romantic partners weren't always one in the same still stung, with his own breakup so fresh. It was a foolish assumption to make—he knew better—and yet he always fell into the trap of equating the two. Perhaps it was a result of his own stupid, romantic yearning. His desperate, lonely clinginess. It was a personal failing that he was growing to regret more and more as time went on.

"Yes, he passed a few months ago from illness," Megure explained, not noticing Shinichi's distraction. "It's an interesting story, actually. Apparently she was on the train home from the funeral when she first met Shitomi-san."

"How… poetic," Shinichi said, not sure how else to respond.

"Right," Megure was rambling now, caught up in the allure of a story that seemed too good to be true. "The amazing part is how they didn't realize it had happened until after they each returned home. Had to find each other on one of those 'missed connections' soulmate-finder sites."

"Hm." Shinichi's brow furrowed. "And then Shitomi-san was the one who convinced the victim to participate in this auction, I take it?"

Megure scratched the back of his head, which tilted his hat slightly crooked. "I don't know, maybe? All I've heard is they've been pretty inseparable the past several weeks."

The timing of all these events seemed too short to not be suspicious, but it still wasn't enough to go off of. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that he'd have to talk to the suspects himself if he wanted real answers.

"And we don't have a murder weapon?" he asked, just to be sure.

Megure shoved his hands in his coat pockets, letting out a long sigh. "No. The gun seems to have disappeared into thin air."

Shinichi took another look around the room. Plenty of places to hide a handgun among all the clutter, but there were at least half a dozen forensics officers searching the place top to bottom. Hopefully something would turn up by the end of the night.

In the meantime, he wanted to take just one more close look at the body himself, to make sure no clues were left undiscovered.

Careful not to disturb any of the surrounding blood patterns, Shinichi knelt beside the corpse. Hasumi Saki had had a soft, round face, with the faintest of smile lines etching her cheeks. Half-hidden by the cascade of her hair, her left temple was darkened by a large contusion, presumably from a struggle leading up to the gunshot.

Her outfit was elegant but simple: a flowing green dress with layers of fabric that now pooled around her legs, a stylish but warm black cardigan to keep out the April chill, and a scattering of simple gold jewelry that looked expensive but not gaudy. A small jeweled brooch depicting a reddish-pink flower—a camellia, if Shinichi had to guess—was clasped on the front of the cardigan, its color a close match to the vibrant soul mark visible on the back of her shoulder.

The mark itself was a pink lotus, with the petals outlined in a darker shade that veered toward magenta. Uncommon, but not that unusual, for two soulmates' marks to be of such similar hues.

Still, brooches aside, there was nothing else to be gleaned from the body itself.

The security cameras being offline was certainly deliberate sabotage, though who did it and how were still questions left unanswered. It was a shame, though, because without any eyewitnesses, the camera footage would have been the clearest smoking gun he could have asked for.

Shinichi shifted to his heels to stand up, but froze as his eyes landed on something he hadn't noticed before. It blended in with the glossy white tile of the showroom, but now that he'd seen it, it became the most glaringly out of place object in the room.

He practically pounced on it, snatching it up with a gloved hand to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Inspector!" he called, examining the pure white feather with increasing adrenaline. "Did you say there was jewelry being sold at this auction?"

৹ ৹ ৹

The venue was surprisingly small-time. Just large enough to justify selling, say, a few antique kimonos or some middle-range classical paintings, but not big enough for robust in-person security personnel. Fully-automated systems were becoming more and more commonplace in lieu of actual guards these days, especially in the slow season.

Sometimes, Kaito's job was a little too easy.

Oh well. This was supposed to be a quick one, after all.

A flick of a switch on his handheld remote, and the camera in the corner of the lobby stopped pivoting with a little jerk. Success.

Grappling his way to the roof and picking the lock on the access door was equally effortless. There wasn't even any need to sneak in through the air ducts—there was simply no one around to catch him if he walked right in through the door.

Once inside, he gently dropped his pack to the ground and quick-changed from his recon blacks to his disguise. From the pack, he withdrew the two doves he'd brought along. The larger of the two made a delighted, warbling little coo upon seeing him, and he shushed her, waving a stern gloved finger at her beak.

The dove contentedly fluffed up her neck feathers in reponse, and Kaito fought back a smile. "You're lucky you're cute, Bijou-chan. We'll have a talk about your stealth skills later, though."

The other dove cocked her head to one side pointedly.

"Yes, Belle-chan, you're doing a great job so far."

An even bigger fluffing of feathers as the smaller bird smugly accepted the praise.

With an exasperated huff, Kaito transferred the doves to their hidden compartments within his suit. He cleared the area of all evidence of his passage and slipped down the stairs toward the storage rooms.

Locating and stealing the target should be a fairly simple affair. The trickiest part of tonight's heist by far would be getting the jewel's owner alone for her private show. Kaito's undercover reconnaissance indicated Hasumi Saki would be touring the facility with her new soulmate and another pair of patrons. Their host was unlikely to let them wander off on their own at this time of night, so a distraction would probably be needed to split the group apart. Nothing a few tampered electical circuits and spoofed phone calls couldn't handle.

So far, so simple.

A strategically timed series of power outages in different zones of the building resulted in the manager of the auction house firmly telling the four patrons to stay put in the dim, emergency-light-painted hallway while he attempted to deal with the situation. (The man would have a hard time doing so, considering the jammer that would be blocking all signal inside the building for the next twenty minutes.)

Not long after, the familiar sillhouette of the manager rounded the corner. In his hand was a flashlight, pointed directly toward the faces of the group. All of them flinched, and one or two raised their hands to shield their eyes. With the witnessess now thoroughly blinded, Kaito had to act quickly.

"I'm told it may be some time before the building's power returns," the manager's voice announced from behind the bright light. "My apologies for the disruption to our tour, but if you'll all remain patient for just a little longer—"

A well-timed roar of thunder interrupted him, rattling the doors and wall fixtures.

Shirane Mitsuki, already tense since the lights went out, flailed into his husband's arms. The rest reacted with their own varying levels of surprise. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain tonight," Hasumi remarked.

"Yes, it appears an unexpected, isolated thunderstorm is what caused the blackout."

"How unlucky," Hasumi mused, as her soulmate squinted wordlessly at the light.

Kaito flipped some switches, and the mannequin-balloon mimicking the manager made a convincing little bow before turning back the way it came. "If you'll follow me, I can lead everyone to the emergency stairs and out of the building, and we can finish our tour another time."

"We're leaving?" Shirane perked up, scrambling to follow. "Thank goodness!" he squeaked, his voice pitchy with nerves. "All these dark, empty rooms have me on edge."

His husband placed a gentle hand at his elbow, "We'll all be fine, dear. Just stay close to me."

The mannequin spun toward the group again, blinding them all a second time with the light before resuming its trek down the hall. "Please keep up, wouldn't want to get separated."

The little group began to follow, with the frightened man sticking close to the false manager and his partner close behind. Hasumi seemed intent on keeping near their host as well, leaving Shitomi heading up the rear of the pack.

Kaito fired an anesthetic dart from the bracelet on his wrist, swooping in to catch her as she silently toppled. Useful tool you had there, Meitantei, he thought with a bittersweet pang. It had been far too long since he'd seen his favorite detective. Months, maybe even a year.

Slipping into a side room and depositing the sleeping woman into a comfortable-looking wing-backed chair, he rejoined the group just as they began to round the next corner. He took the opportunity to approach Hasumi, sidling up and delicately placing a hand at her elbow. To her credit, she jumped at the touch but did not cry out.

"Not how I had pictured this evening going," Kaito murmured in her soulmate's voice, and she relaxed somewhat, though she did do a bemused double-take in the direction the rest of the group had gone.

"I agree. But shouldn't we—?"

"All this waiting around in the dark was starting to get to me," he continued as if he hadn't heard, slowing down even more as the rest of the group moved further and further away. He shuddered, clinging more tightly to her in a show of being terribly afraid of the dark.

"Akari, aren't we going to lose sight of them?" she urged, placing a gentle hand on his and trying in vain to get him to walk faster.

Just then, a blinding light appeared from around the corner, and the second of Kaito's mannequins greeted them with an annoyed, "Please don't fall behind, ladies."

"Of course, our apologies," Kaito said with faux chagrin, before allowing the guide to lead them in the opposite direction from the Shiranes.

৹ ৹ ৹

"Has anything been stolen?" Shinichi demanded without preamble as he approached a group of officers assembled around a table full of ledgers.

Takagi turned to respond and then stopped short in surprise. "Kudou-kun?"

"Ah, yes, Detective Takagi," he inclined his head impatiently. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," the man smiled good-naturedly, but quickly cleared his throat to get back to business. "We've been scouring the records, of course, but we haven't uncovered anything missing just yet. There are plenty of valuable pieces in this collection that could have been cause for murder, so narrowing it down is proving difficult."

"Were there any particularly large gemstones in the collection?"

"Gemstones?" Takagi raised a bemused eyebrow. "I think there were a few, but nothing as rare or valuable as some of the artwork being kept here."

"Check the gems next," Shinichi insisted. "I have a hunch."

৹ ৹ ৹

The "manager" led Kaito and his mark to a display room featuring a menagerie of antiques and works of art to be sold at the next auction. A working pair of spotlights shone in the center of the room, disorienting after so long with only the red emergency lights and the halo of their guide's flashlight.

"What on earth—" Hasumi said under her breath, reaching for her soulmate and grasping only empty air. She cast about, looking for her with growing confusion.

All at once, the mannequin deflated in a noisy rush of air, accompanied by a jaunty puff of violet smoke at the center of the spotlight.

"Oh—! What is…?"

Faint up-tempo music began to emanate from some hidden corner of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen!" crowed a figure at the center of the smoke. A swish of a cape dispersed the smoke all at once, revealing international phantom thief Kaitou KID. "Or should I say, my dear lady."

She took another glance around the empty room. "Where is Akari?"

"Safe and sound, you have my word!" He made a show of humbly doffing his hat. She seemed to accept this, confusion melting gradually into excitement. "I hope you don't mind, but I had hoped to keep this little show just between the two of us. A special performance for a special someone."

An incredulous laugh escaped her, hands flying to her face like an embarrassed child at a surprise party, and KID beamed with sincere joy. "I take it you know who I am. In that case, you must know what I am here for."

She paused to think, still a bit shell-shocked, before snapping her fingers in realization. "Oh! The necklace?"

"Indeed," he bowed his head. "I am aware that the jewel's owner—that is, you, my lady—has been going through a difficult time as of late."

Her delighted posture deflated just a fraction. "Yes… My husband—"

KID raised a hand before she could say more. "I know. And I regret that I must cause you more trouble when you must be dealing with so much."

Her smile returned, still with a hint of sadness, but clearly charmed regardless. "So this business with the electricity going out, that was all you?"

"It was," he agreed shamelessly. "And it would have been a simple matter to steal the jewel under cover of darkness, but…"

"But you're the famous Kaitou KID?" she guessed. "And you like to have an audience?"

It was KID's turn to laugh. "You're not wrong about that," he admitted. "But no, I simply thought it didn't feel sportsmanlike to claim my prize without informing you first."

"What a gentleman," she rolled her eyes, still smiling. It was clear she understood the real point of this show—that KID wanted to brighten her day with something memorable and fun, that neither she nor her property were in any real danger. She was quick to catch on and happy to play along. Kaito decided that this heist had been worth the effort after all.

He winked rogueishly and moved to begin his next trick when a flash of movement caught his eye from the darkness behind Hasumi.

Chapter Text

"All jewelry in the collection is indeed accounted for except for one pendant. Its centerpiece is a large aquamarine owned by the victim."

Shinichi examined the stack of papers handed to him. Aquamarine? Not the rarest of stones, and certainly not the most valuable thing among the many items in the auction. At just over a hundred carats, however, it was sizable enough to draw the attention of a certain phantom thief with a penchant for large jewels.

KID was no murderer, though. Of that, Shinichi was sure. As much as he and the thief had butted heads over the last few years, Shinichi felt he had a decent grasp of KID's morals. Burglary, impersonation, and vandalism were fair game for him, but he'd never once committed an act of real violence. On the contrary, KID seemed to have a sense of justice that Shinichi had to admit he sometimes admired, and they'd caught real, dangerous villains with each other's help on more than one occasion.

No, Shinichi trusted KID, at least in this. He was no more of a suspect than any of the other people who'd been present at the scene, despite his certainly criminal reasons for being there.

So, then, how were the theft and the murder connected?

"I'd like to speak to the witnesses," Shinichi finally announced.

"Sure thing," Takagi said, looking relieved to hand the reins over. "As long as Inspector Megure is alright with it."

Megure, who had wandered over to look at the documents for himself, nodded.

"Who first, then?"

"Shitomi-san. Her alibi is the weakest, and I'd like to know more about why she and Hasumi-san were here."

He was led to a small side office where Shitomi was being held. The woman was seated in front of a wide empty desk, appearance haggard and worn-down. Her short bob of hair was disheveled and her make-up was smeary. She fidgeted absently with a shiny black bangle on her left wrist until noticing that she was no longer alone.

"Are the police hiring kids now?" she blurted, then twisted her face up in obvious embarrassment.

"I'm more of a consultant," Shinichi replied coolly before offering a handshake. "Kudou Shinichi. Detective."

"…Shitomi Akari," she supplied, accepting his gesture but looking unsure.

Shinichi took the seat across from her, behind the desk, where he presumed the auction house's sales advisors would normally sit.

"I have just a few questions for you, if I may, Shitomi-san."

"Haven't I been questioned enough?" she demanded, right hand running through her mussed hair. "I just lost my soulmate."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Shinichi said with genuine sympathy. "We only want to figure out what happened to her, so we can make sure whoever harmed her faces justice."

She choked on a stifled sob, covering her eyes with her hand. "Right. Of course."

"And in order to do that, Shitomi-san, I need to know more about what sort of motive might have caused someone to want Hasumi-san dead."

"She— Saki didn't have any enemies," Shitomi interjected. "She was a— a darling woman who was as generous as she was… kind."

Shinichi watched her face for any tells, but behind the stuttering and exhaustion, her distress seemed absolutely genuine. She looked for all the world like a woman whose soulmate had just been ripped away from her.

"I understand," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. "It's possible her killer had some motive beyond a personal grievance. Perhaps they were after something valuable that belonged to her?"

There was a hitch in Shitomi's breaths that might have been a sob. "What makes you think that?"

"This did happen in an auction house, surrounded by millions of yen worth of rare items."

"… If they wanted one of those items so badly, why not just buy it at the auction? Or steal it later, after the tour had left for the night? Why kill Saki?"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

"So something was stolen?" she asked with sudden sharpness.

Shinichi hesitated, taking in the newly tense posture of the woman's shoulders. "We're looking into that now, but there are a lot of items to sort through. Why? Is there anything in Hasumi-san's collection that springs to mind as a possible target of theft?"

She leaned back, tapping the nails of her left hand on the desk while she went back to fidgeting with the thick bracelet on her wrist. "I don't know. I think some of the ceramics she was selling were pretty old."

Shinichi hummed noncommitally, latching onto this strange new reticence. "What is it you do, by the way, Shitomi-san?"

"Me?" She startled a bit, caught off-guard by the change in subject. "I'm— well, I'm actually an artist."

"An artist?"

"Painting, mostly. Some clay sculpture. I dabble in all sorts of media."

"I would think you'd be well-versed in art history, then."

"You'd think so, but you'd be wrong," she chuckled self-deprecatingly, relaxing her shoulders. "I can appreciate all the fine details of whatever piece you put in front of me, but I couldn't tell you a Rubens from a Rembrandt."

"I suppose one doesn't have to know the historical context to appreciate the beauty."

"Exactly," she nodded, at ease now. "It's just colors and shapes, in the end. Nice to look at, and who cares what it's worth."

"Did Hasumi-san share your views on art?"

Her expression stiffened. "Y… yeah. I guess you could say I was the one who convinced her to sell off some of her husband's collection. Not all of it, mind you, just the things she wasn't personally attached to."

Shinichi hummed again. "And that extended to the other pieces, outside of just the paintings?"

"Why not? If they weren't making her happy, there was no point in holding onto all those things."

"That makes sense to me," he agreed. "It just might seem a bit sudden to some people, considering those items had belonged to her late husband."

Shitomi sat up very straight in her chair. "Is that what this is about?" she snapped. "Listen, I didn't force Saki to do anything. All I did was go looking for my soulmate, and when I found her, I tried to help her get over her grief in the best way I knew how."

Shinichi held up his hands disarmingly. "I didn't mean anything by it, Shitomi-san. I only needed to confirm what was being sold at this auction and why."

"Well, it was her own choice," she insisted with a sigh, slumping back into her chair and running both hands down her face this time. "Are we done here?" The motion of her arms caused the thick bracelet on her wrist to slide askew, revealing a small but distinct shape.

"…Ume?" Shinichi's eyes narrowed.

"What was that?" Shitomi's entire posture went rigid and she lowered her arms to the desk.

Shinichi pointed at her wrist. "Your soulmate mark. It's a plum blossom?"

She grasped at the bracelet with her other hand. "Yes?"

"Huh."

"Is that… What about it?"

"Nothing. It's just not what I expected." The red camellia brooch.

Shitomi stared at him silently for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, she repeated, a little less patiently, "Are we done?"

"Of course. Sorry again for taking up so much of your time. And… sorry for your loss."

৹ ৹ ৹

Kaito was hit.

He'd been hit.

In the freeze-frame moment of mental clarity, after the sound of the gun had stopped echoing in the space, but before he felt any pain, he saw the assailant's face. He saw the startled look in those eyes, as if the shot had been as much a surprise to them as it had been to him.

Then, he saw those eyes turn to Hasumi Saki.

"No!"

He reached for his card gun on instinct, body seizing up uncooperatively as the wound on his flank made itself known. It wasn't the first time he'd been shot, but this was no mere graze. Still, the card gun made its way into his hand, and he flicked it up in time to fire off a card, pinging off the attacker's pistol and sending them reeling back in surprise.

It was at this point Hasumi screamed. Kaito's mind raced to find a safe exit for the two of them, but the pain erupting through his torso was destroying his ability to think.

He fired off two more shots in the direction of the attacker, but his aim was off and the cards sailed harmlessly past. He stumbled, hand clutching reflexively at his bleeding side.

"How the fuck did you find out?" the attacker snarled at him, raising the pistol again.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kaito wheezed, covertly sending a coded message to Jii: 7-4-0. SOS.

"I don't understand," Hasumi had inched closer to Kaito on trembling legs, facing the threat with her hands raised in surrender. "Why are you doing this? He wasn't hurting anyone!"

The gun was pointed at Hasumi once more, and Kaito rallied enough to scramble forward and heave her back by the arm, placing himself in the middle as a shield.

"Shit!" the attacker was hissing. "Fuck. This was supposed to be foolproof."

"You don't have to do this," Hasumi was crying, eyes on the attacker, hands hovering at Kaito's side as if to catch him when he inevitably collapsed. "Whatever it is you want, I can—"

"Shut up!"

Everyone went very still and silent, save for Kaito's increasingly strained breathing. The whimsical music from KID's planned performance continued to play softly from invisible speakers.

That gunshot would have echoed down the halls, Kaito thought. The others would be on their way here soon, for better or worse. Would it be safer to stall? Or would that just be putting more people in danger?

Opting for the former, Kaito hazarded a guess: "If it's the jewel you're after, I haven't taken it yet."

Why was this happening? Why was this stone worth killing for? This walnut-sized, common gemstone. Surely it… it couldn't be…

"Don't play dumb with me, you greedy fucking magpie. I saw the empty case."

Damn. They really were after the same thing. The stone in Kaito's pocket felt a lot heavier, suddenly.

৹ ৹ ৹

"Katou Hiroshi?" Shinichi approached the witness with a measured gait. A feeling creeping up the back of his neck told him that he was running out of time, but rushing in and spooking the remaining suspects would do him no favors.

The man still jumped at the sound of Shinichi's voice, but recovered quickly, smoothing his fingers back through his thinning hair and forcing his appearance into a tightly controlled neatness. "Yes. And you are?"

"Kudou Shinichi. Detective."

This office was just as sterile and modern as the previous. Its occupant, however, had chosen to forgo the offered chair in order to lean against the wall, restlessly tapping his foot.

Katou simply nodded once, curt. Go on, then.

Fine, no use dancing around the subject. "As collections manager, you must have a lot of important responsibilities here to keep you busy. "

"Of course."

"Why, then, did it fall to you to give this little tour tonight? Why not someone further down the ladder?"

The man actually scoffed, a sprig of hair falling back out of place across his forehead. "And let some nobody sales coordinator represent our business to our esteemed clientele? This was a private tour, for some of our biggest donors this quarter."

Shinichi inclined his head, acceding the point. "I'm familiar with the victim's philanthropy toward the arts, and the number of items she was planning to sell. What about the other couple? The Shiranes?"

"Shirane Mitsuki is the heir to a mining dynasty and has been buying artwork here since he was a child. His tastes are eccentric, but he's a loyal patron and a reliable source of income and good publicity for the auction house. His husband Kousuke is, I believe, a lawyer of some description."

"Hm," Shinichi pressed his fingertips together, absorbing this. "Mining?"

"Aluminum, if memory serves. His family has owned shares in certain overseas sites for four generations."

"I see. Did you know Shirane-san well, then?"

"Not particularly," Katou's agitated foot tapping increased in tempo. "I know his habits as a frequent business associate, but no more than that. And before you ask, I know the others even less."

"Then was it Shirane-san who arranged tonight's tour?"

The tapping stopped abruptly. "… It was. You don't think he could have…?"

"I can't have any solid theories without speaking to him directly first."

"…And there are no other suspects? It was definitely one of the tour group?"

Shinichi watched the man's face closely. "Why? Did you see something that might make you think someone else had been inside the auction house?"

Katou stared down at his shoes. "…No. But I hate to think any one of us could have hurt that poor woman."

The foot tapping started up again, and Katou sighed deeply. "I can't believe this happened," he muttered, apparently to himself. "Tonight of all nights."

Shinichi chose not to prod at that peculiar phrasing for now. "I promise we're almost done here, but first I'd like to hear your version of tonight's events."

"Again? I already told the inspector everything."

"I'd like to hear it directly."

A frustrated inhale as Katou smoothed his hair back again, only for it to fall in his face on the exhale. "I was leading the four guests down the hall toward the climate-controlled storage, to demonstrate how we maintain their delicate items, when there was a sudden blackout. I asked them to stay together while I attempted to flip the breaker."

"Then why not take the group with you? Surely it would have been faster to just take everyone to an exit."

"In hindsight, yes, that would have been a more expedient solution. However, the breaker box was not far—just at the end of that very corridor—so I went to check it on my own… only to discover none of them had been tripped."

"Oh?"

"I attempted to call the power utility to work out what had happened, but the signal was spotty. I had to move around to hear a word the idiot was saying."

"How long were you away?" Shinichi took mental note of the timeframes, of this short period with no alibi.

"I was not on the phone for long. I came back within four or five minutes to find everyone just as I'd left them."

"And then you all started making your way to the exit."

"Correct. The power was not coming back any time soon, so I led the guests back toward the stairs. I was the only one with a light source, due to our policy prohibiting guests from carrying cameras or camera phones of any kind in non-public spaces."

"And you didn't notice anything amiss until after the gunshot and scream?"

"…There were two gunshots."

"What?"

"There were two," Katou repeated, as if annoyed that he had to be the one to bring it up.

The police hadn't mentioned that, and Hasumi Saki had only had one bullet wound. A chill shot up Shinichi's spine. "What happened after the shots were fired?"

"There was a bit of a panic—circular arguments about what to do, how doomed we were, et cetera. Shirane Mitsuki-san was particularly worked up; I believe he may have a pathological fear of the dark. My flashlight was damaged in the ruckus, worsening both the darkness and the panic. Before I could begin to settle everyone down, the lights came back on."

"How long between the two gunshots?"

"I…" Katou's brow furrowed. "Perhaps five minutes. It's difficult to judge in hindsight."

Shinichi frowned. That was a long time.

"How long after the last shot before the power returned?"

"… Not long. A minute or two at most."

"And once the lights were back up?"

"We realized that the women were missing. We'd lost them both somewhere along the way. Shirane Mitsuki-san tapped into some theretofore unseen well of courage and convinced us all to go looking for them."

"While an unknown shooter was nearby?"

"We were worried for the women's wellbeing."

Shinichi hummed doubtfully. That wasn't completely unreasonable, but it seemed like strange behavior, given the circumstances. "And by the time you all arrived at the scene of the crime, the culprit had fled."

"Just so."

Shinichi needed to move on, and quickly, but there was one small detail left to confirm: "And I assume by the time you found the body, the cell reception had finally improved enough for you to call the police?"

"… No." Katou's fingers twitched. "I never got through, but the police arrived shortly after anyway. Perhaps a… passerby outside heard the commotion."

"I see." That was… possibly concerning. Or maybe it was a good sign? There were too many open questions, and either way the sinking feeling in Shinichi's chest was only getting worse.

"I'll leave you be, then. Thank you for your time."

Katou sighed, more locks of hair springing loose and leaving him at his most disheveled yet. "Please, Detective, for all our sakes… wrap this up quickly so we can be done with it."

Shinichi nodded, doing his best to mask the dread squeezing ever tighter around his heart.

If his theory was correct—and at this point, it had to be—then that second gunshot may have been aimed at…

He shook his head to clear it, ignoring the strange looks from the handful of police guarding the hallway.

There hadn't been another body found, so the chance of that person being dead was low. If he'd been injured, though, it was possible he would have been too incapacitated to flee the building before the police arrived. In that case, considering his usual methods, it was likely he was currently—

"I need to speak with the last two suspects right away," Shinichi said to the nearest officer.

"Both of them?"

"Yes. And hurry, there may be a life at stake."

৹ ৹ ৹

"Who do you work for?" Kaito managed through gritted teeth, a sick feeling entering his gut that had nothing to do with his wound. If there was any chance that this jewel really was the thing he'd been searching for all these years, then escaping with it was even more imperative.

"None of your business. Now hand it over."

"Afraid I can't just yet," he summoned up as much cocky phantom thief bravado has he could, although both his voice and his knees had started to wobble. "I need it for something."

"I'm not asking."

"And I'm not offering. Finders keepers."

"K-KID-san," Hasumi's wavering voice came out in a half-whisper. "Please just give up the jewel. I don't want anyone getting killed!"

The spotlights overhead were beginning to feel far too hot. And too bright. It was getting difficult to see anything.

Jii should have alerted the police by now, so all that remained was keeping Hasumi safe and the jewel out of the wrong hands until help arrived.

With his strength sapping away a little more with every passing second, Kaito decided this show was officially over. There was one thing he could still do to try and create an opening, but it was risky.

Keeping his movements subtle, he triggered a switch on his belt, releasing his entire stash of flash-bangs at once.

The blinding light and firecracker-cacophony were accompanied by another scream from Hasumi and a bitten-off curse from their assailant.

There was no additional gunshot, for whatever that was worth, but Kaito had neither the time nor the faculties to watch for the shooter's next move.

In all the smoke and noise, Kaito managed to grab Hasumi's hand and throw down several more smoke bombs to conceal their exit. He wasn't exactly moving at his top speed, but it seemed he still had enough adrenaline to spare for one last desperate push.

On their way out, he also hit the release on the two doves nestled in his jacket, and they scattered into the haze with a noisy whistling of wings.

Please be careful, girls, he silently begged, even as he hoped the sounds of their flight would add to the chaos and buy them a few more seconds' head start.

Hasumi, for her part, held his hand in an iron grip and did not make another sound as they fled the display room and into the darkness of the hallways.

Flicking down a night-vision visor from the lining of his hat, Kaito led her out and around the perimiter until they were doubling back in the direction from which they'd first approached. There was no sound of footsteps behind them, but they wouldn't be safe until they reached a place to hide.

He stumbled more than once, and each time Hasumi would heave him back up to his feet with a grimly determined look.

Luckily his destination was not far and, upon arriving at the unassuming storage room, he swung the door open and shoved Hasumi inside with little fanfare. "Stay quiet until the police arrive," he slurred, an arm clutching at the doorframe to hold himself upright.

In the dim glow of the red emergency lights, it took Hasumi a moment to notice the sleeping form of her soulmate just inside. Rather than going to check on her, she whirled back to look at Kaito. "You can't be serious. Stay here and hide with us!"

He shook his head weakly, fumbling inside his jacket for the little container of pain-killers he kept on hand and swallowing four of them dry. "You'll be safer without me bleeding and wheezing and drawing attention," he reasoned. "Plus I have… something I need to—" he winced, doubling over briefly, "—need to take care of."

She looked disapproving. And frightened. But she nodded once. "Please be safe. The world is better with people like you in it."

He smiled, touched, despite the pain. "I'm sorry things turned out this way. You deserved better… from me."

There was no time to say more. He closed the door and resumed shuffling as quickly as he could manage through the maze of corridors.

Alone again, he tapped at the little communicator hidden in his collar. "Jii-chan, status?"

"Young Master!" Kaito could hear the edge of panic in his assistant's voice. "Emergency services are on their way, and… judging by the trackers on your doves, it looks like they must be in the ceiling ducts?"

That left Kaito releasing a shaky sigh of relief, at least. "That's my girls."

"But what about you!?" Jii hissed. "I thought I heard gunfire, are you—"

"I'm hit," Kaito cut him off.

"Kaito—!"

"I'm fine for now," he lied, "but the gunner got away and I need to lay low."

"What did you have in mind?"

Chapter Text

The Shiranes were not locked in an office like the other witnesses, but instead were seated together on a little sofa just outside the elevators.

Shirane Mitsuki looked a mess, clinging silently to his husband and apparently sound asleep against the taller man's shoulder.

Shirane Kousuke held him protectively, answering Shinichi's questions while shooting concerned glances down at Mitsuki every few seconds.

"And you're certain Katou-san was with you the entire time?"

"Yes," Kousuke confirmed. "It may have been dark, but his voice was recognizable and he was the only one holding a light."

A small noise that may have been a whimper escaped from Mitsuki. The trembling man pressed closer to his spouse.

"…Is he alright?" Shinichi asked as delicately as he could.

"Darling?" Kousuke shook his shoulder gently, brow furrowing. "We're safe now, the lights are back—there's no need to be frightened anymore."

Mitsuki didn't stir again, and Shinichi decided he didn't currently have the time to deal with a witness crashing after a nyctophobic episode.

"You never saw the manager's face while the power was out?" Shinichi pressed.

"No, I… I suppose not," Kousuke said, distracted.

The stories and timelines seemed to match with what the manager had said, but something still didn't feel right. He knew, with a certainty that surprised himself, that Kaitou KID had been here. The phantom thief had been, at the very least, in the room where the body was found.

The jewel was still missing, but KID wouldn't have simply taken it and left, would he? It didn't fit his modus operandi. He always had an audience, and he always returned what he stole… right?

Even if he'd been responsible for calling the police—as appeared to be the case—it didn't seem like KID to then just clean up all signs of his presence and disappear.

Shinichi decided he was getting nowhere fast and needed to switch tracks. "So none of you noticed when the two women fell behind?"

"No," Kousuke looked troubled. "I admit that my attention was entirely on my husband, thanks to the blackout."

Shinichi glanced at the frightened man again. "Forgive me for asking, but does his phobia always give him this much trouble?"

Kousuke hesitated, delicately nudging the man in question, whose only response was to nuzzle into his shoulder. "…Not recently. He'd been through some therapy for it in recent months and I thought there'd been improvement. I suppose the added stress of… of Saki's death… may have been too overwhelming."

Shinichi grimaced in sympathy. "Sure. She was your friend? My condolences."

"We hadn't known her long, just since sharing a train car back in February, but I think we were probably among her closest friends, if you can believe it." Kousuke chuckled humorlessly. "Apparently she was a bit of a recluse most of her life, but, not long after her husband's death, something turned her life around."

"'Something'?"

"Ah, I've only heard her speak of it in vague terms. I imagine it was encountering Akari-san."

Meeting one's soulmate was known to sometimes have profound effects on a person's life. But some detail didn't fit quite right. He couldn't place what, just now, but something about this statement rang as important in Shinichi's mind.

It was at that moment Mitsuki's lolling head slipped from Kousuke's shoulder, startling the man awake with a sharp intake of breath.

"Mitsuki, dear?" his husband asked, an arm loose around the smaller man's shoulders. "Everything alright?"

Mitsuki went rigidly tense all over, eyes flashing between Shinichi and Kousuke, then back to Shinichi with a look of shock. "You— Wh—" He cleared his throat, hoarse. A bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline. "Haven't I seen your face in the papers, young man?"

"It's possible," he replied evenly. "I'm a detective."

Mitsuki opened his mouth to say something else, but Kousuke suddenly startled with enough force to rattle the sofa. "Kudou-san, your—!"

Shinichi took a step back, alarmed. "My what?"

"Your mark, on your neck," Kousuke gestured at the side of his own, and Shinichi's hand flew to his soul mark on instinct.

"What about it?"

"I'm not imagining that it was— but— now it's changed! It's blue!"

… Blue?

"You— that can't be true," Shinichi said, disbelief and indignation rising up in equal measure. Why would the man lie about something like that, at a time like this?

Then he caught his distorted reflection in the mirrored finish on the elevator doors.

The rose was blue.

His breath caught in his lungs.

Blue?? Now?? And most importantly, WHO—?

"What are you both sputtering about…?" Mitsuki muttered, an edge of exhaustion to his words.

Kousuke's attention snapped to him, and all at he once pushed himself an arm's length away. "But he was looking at you—"

Mitsuki toppled sideways after the change in position, catching himself on the back of the sofa with an odd grunt.

Shinichi's awareness snapped back to the scene before him. Kousuke was right, Shinichi had only been focusing on the two of them. And it was only after Mitsuki had woken up that… that the change had been noticed.

"Shirane-san," he called with authority, looking Kousuke directly in the eye. "You and your husband are soulmates, correct?" The profiles the police had provided had said as much.

"Y-yes!"

"And where is his mark?"

Kousuke shot a dumbfounded look at Mitsuki, shrinking into himself as the man in question slowly and unsteadily tried to rise off the sofa. "His—his clavicle."

Shinichi did not ask permission before grabbing hold of the man's suit collar, yanking it sideways to expose the blank expanse of his throat.

"Who are you?!" Kousuke asked, stumbling to his own feet and hiding behind Shinichi.

The police officers standing watch at the end of the hall began taking notice. "Everything alright, Kudou-kun?"

Shinichi waved a dismissive hand at them, causing Kousuke to sputter in confusion.

"I know this man," Shinichi said under his breath, not once taking his eyes off of the resigned, sagging individual in his grasp.

"Who on Earth is he?" Kousuke hissed, hysteria rising in his voice. "And where is my husband!?"

"KID," Shinichi said, "answer the man's question."

KID let out a deep, slow sigh. "Your man is fine. He's asleep under the main stage in the auditorium." His voice still sounded rough, but it had reverted to its usual youthful tenor.

Kousuke gasped sharply. "Then this entire time, you were—!?"

"It was me, yeah."

"Shirane-san," Shinichi cut in. "I'll explain everything to the police, but for now I need you to stay put and trust me."

"Are you insane?" the man reeled back, now eyeing both of them with suspicion. "I'm going to go find Mitsuki!"

Shinichi turned to level a glare at him. "No, you aren't. There could still be a killer loose in this place."

Kousuke spluttered again, his face going red. "That man was in disguise and just admitted to assaulting my husband—obviously he is the killer!"

"I said he's fine," KID muttered petulantly, while at the same time Shinichi growled: "Haven't you noticed?"

"…Noticed what?"

Shinichi looked KID in the eye, struggling to keep his voice steady. "You're injured." A statement, not a question.

KID laughed, a sharp, boyish giggle, before clutching at his side with a pained gasp, wobbling on his feet.

Shinichi steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. His face was grim. "You were shot."

KID nodded, letting out a shallow huff of breath in a ghost of a chuckle. "Quick as always, Meitantei."

Kousuke startled them both by clapping his hands together. "Oh! I get it! Th-the second gunshot—that was you?"

"Nope, the first was me." His face twisted up with something other than pain.

Kousuke seemed to be playing the events of the night back to himself, too distracted to be afraid of KID anymore.

Shinichi took the opportunity to guide Kousuke back to the sofa, directing him with a firm gesture, "Wait here. I'm going to get this man medical attention while the cops retrieve your husband."

He still looked conflicted, but acquiesced, sitting rigidly and nervously drumming his fingers on his knees.

"And…" Shinichi glanced at KID. "Don't tell anyone this guy was hurt. I'll explain things to the Inspector, but I don't want that detail getting out just yet. It's important to finding the killer. Do you understand?"

Shirane Kousuke nodded obediently.

"As for you," Shinichi released KID's collar and sent him a look that left no room for argument, "come with me."

KID followed without protest, allowing himself to be led away by the wrist.

৹ ৹ ৹

Kaito was aware that he was walking alongside an oddly familiar presence. He was aware that his companion was rapidly texting, one-handed, as he dragged Kaito down a too-bright hallway. Mostly, he was aware that every step forward was causing the muscles in his lower abdomen to jump and spasm uncomfortably.

"KID?" Fingers were snapping in front of his face. "Stay alert, please. Shit."

Kaito brushed the hand away, annoyed. "I'm still walking, aren't I?" His words might have slurred slightly, but he wasn't going to worry about that. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I was going to take you to the roof, to avoid the MPD, but I'm starting to suspect you wouldn't make it up the first flight of stairs."

Kaito couldn't argue in his own defense. He shrugged, then tried not to wince as the motion stretched the skin of his torso just a bit.

A sigh. "Sit."

Kaito did, on a stiff, uncomfortable chair in what appeared to be some sort of lounge or waiting area next to the stairwell.

A face melted into view, hovering over him with a look of blatant concern, and he remembered all over again who it was he was speaking to. "Meitantei," he said with wonder. "Are you really back to normal?"

Shinichi's lips narrowed. "Yes. No time for that now, though—where were you hit?"

Kaito gingerly pulled the borrowed jacket aside and lifted the edge of his shirt, exposing the hastily-applied adhesive dressing just above his hip. "Don't think it clipped anything vital, since I'm not dead yet."

"Shit," Shinichi hissed again, jerking forward as if to touch him and then letting his hands fall back to his sides. "That doesn't mean you're out of danger. Did it pass all the way through?"

"Yeah, pain in the ass to reach the exit hole with a bandage." Kaito was aware he was pouting, but felt that he probably deserved to, for once.

Shinichi did reach for him then, prodding softly at the dressing on his stomach and humming in thought. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Kaito blinked at him, uncomprehending. "You're giving me a choice?"

Shinichi sighed so roughly it sounded like a growl. "I could always change my mind! Would you rather be captured at a bloody crime scene by the swarm of police officers down the hall, Kaitou-sama?"

"…No, but I sort of thought my luck had finally run out tonight." It was a pretty dire confession, he knew, but he still wasn't prepared for the wide-eyed, conflicted look in Shinichi's eyes.

"You thought I was arresting you?"

"…Hasn't that always been your goal?"

Shinichi glanced around as if checking for prying eyes, scratching anxiously at the back of his head. His eyes fell to the floor between them as that hand slid down to the side of his neck. "I don't think it has been for a while, no."

This sounded like a different kind of confession. Kaito's eyes fell on Shinichi's fingers, resting against the vibrant, sapphire-blue mark on his neck. "Is that what I think it is?"

Shinichi flinched as if he hadn't realized what his hands were doing. "We don't have time for that, either, right now." His expression hardened as he took on his detective persona once more. "Okay, KID. I trust you to know your own limits, considering the sort of dangerous situations you like to get into. I am asking you, with that in mind: are you stable?"

Kaito could feel some of his alertness returning thanks to this conversation, though the pain and weakness were still a problem. "For now."

Shinichi gave him a hard stare as if that wasn't the answer he'd been looking for. "Alright. Before we get moving again, though, I need to know—do you know who shot you?"

"The manager. Katou."

Chapter Text

Shinichi sagged a bit in relief. It was really going to be that easy, for once. No last-second epiphanies, no surprise evidence—just a living eyewitness with a positive ID. And Katou was already being held for questioning. He wasn't a danger anymore.

"Great, your memory of the events should be enough to help me find some physical proof and lock him away for good." He was already pulling out his phone to text Megure again. He began pacing up and down the length of the lounge. "What was his motive? Was he after the same jewel as you?"

KID had started to slump backward against the wall, but now he hunched his shoulders, tense. "Yes, I think so."

"So he caught you with the jewel and attacked you."

"Right."

"And Hasumi-san was there as well?"

"… Yeah."

"So he killed Hasumi-san because she'd seen too much. Am I right?"

KID didn't respond at first.

"KID, is that what happened?"

"…I led her straight to her death."

Shinichi pulled up short, finally noticing the haunted look on the other man's face.

"She trusted me. I led her away from him, took her somewhere I thought was safe—I told her she'd be safe—but he must have found her anyway."

"KID…"

"And— and she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if I hadn't separated her from the group! This is— don't you see, Meitantei, this is my fault."

KID's breaths were coming faster, and he'd started shivering all over again. Shinichi fell to his knees beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oi. Oi. Listen to me, no matter what other crimes you're guilty of tonight, you are not responsible for her death."

KID was shaking his head, a trembling hand over his mouth.

"I've seen a lot of murder, in a lot of unusual and complicated situations," Shinichi insisted, "so I know what I'm talking about. The only one to blame here is the one who pulled that trigger."

"I still put her in danger."

"You didn't plan on it becoming dangerous. I know you, KID. That's just not how you operate."

"I still shouldn't have— fuck." He grimaced as he cradled his injured side again. "It's always dangerous. I let myself forget."

Shinichi tightened his grip on KID's shoulder. "What do you mean?"

KID was silent for a long moment. Shinichi almost repeated the question, but KID was avoiding his eyes like he was trying to come to a decision, so he waited.

"There are… others after the same thing as me. What I've been looking for."

"…And that 'thing' is a jewel?"

KID finally met his gaze. "Yeah."

"But… none of you know what it looks like. Or where it's located." Shinichi rocked back on his heels, resting his chin in his hand. "It's not just a big, valuable stone, because that would be easy to identify. So that must mean there's something special about it."

"Yeah."

"Can you… tell me what that is?"

KID didn't flinch this time, holding steady. "I'd rather not, if that's okay."

The lack of trust stung. Despite their history, despite their roles as criminal and detective, part of Shinichi had hoped that recent revelations would mean there'd been a shift in their relationship.

Stupid, desperate, clingy.

"But these other people after the jewel, they're dangerous?"

"Extremely."

"And Katou-san might have been one of them?"

"It's possible."

"Then… does this mean you found it?"

"Huh?"

"The one you were after. Was it Hasumi-san's aquamarine?"

KID's eyes widened for a split second before he schooled his expression back to tired neutrality. "I don't actually know."

"Why not?"

"I haven't had a chance to check."

"Wait. You still have it?"

Reluctantly, KID withdrew a small flat case from his inner jacket pocket. "Right here."

"Then can't you check it now?"

"… I can't."

"Oh." An awkward beat. "Does it require special tools?"

"You could say that."

Shinichi huffed, frustrated. He stood up and dusted himself off. "Nevermind, let's get going then, before you bleed to death."

KID let out a childlike whine of protest. "Do I have to?"

"Only if you want to stay out of prison."

"You're so cruel to me, Meitantei."

Shinichi bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. This was no time for smiling. "C'mon, up, up. And get rid of that stupid mask, I can tell you're sweating under there."

KID laughed weakly as he levered himself upright once again, peeling off the latex mask in a practiced motion and shoving it carelessly into his back pocket. One side of his neck was a bit red and blotchy, and his short shaggy hair clung to his forehead, but otherwise he seemed bright, alert, and ready to go.

He looked… different without the monocle. Younger. He'd always been handsome, but up close, with nothing to hide his face from view, he was…

Shinichi tugged at KID's elbow, ignoring the warmth in his own face as he led the way to the stairs.

৹ ৹ ৹

That had been a soul mark on Shinichi's neck. A blue rose. Kaito had never even heard of a mark like that. His mother's mark was a white rose, but blue wasn't even a naturally occuring color in the rose family. How strange. The detective was always full of surprises.

He wondered who the lucky soulmate was. In all the photos Kaito had seen of him from before the Edogawa Conan era, his mark had still been blank. And then for as long Kaito had known him, it had seemingly vanished altogether.

He supposed he was happy for Shinichi that the mark had indeed reappeared when he got his body back, however that had happened. At least some people were able to find their matches, even if Kaito sort of dreaded, deep down, the day he'd do the same.

"Still doing okay?" the detective asked as they approached the third floor. It was slow going, with Kaito having to maneuver himself with minimal twisting or bending, which mostly meant lifting himself up to each higher step using the handrails and some awkward, limping swings of his legs.

"I've been better," he joked, feeling the sweat on the back of his neck like an itch.

Shinichi paused, indecisive, before taking a deep breath through his nose. "I'll help you."

Without waiting for a response, he moved to Kaito's side and pulled an arm across his shoulders, supporting a good portion of Kaito's weight and making it much easier to move.

"Ha, sorry for slowing you down. Didn't realize you were in such a hurry."

"Shut up," Shinichi grumbled, his face already strangely red from the exertion. "Do you have a plan for once I get you topside?"

"You mean an extraction?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Sort of," he hedged. Jii would certainly be waiting for another signal. The old man was probably sick with worry by now. If Kaito was right about his wounds missing anything of importance, though, they should be able to fix him up at home without trouble. Probably.

Shinichi gave him another thoughtful look. "KID… If you need someone to help you get to safety—"

"That's what you're doing now," Kaito huffed as they reached the next landing, resting against the railing for a few breaths before starting up the next flight. "Besides, you need to finish solving the case."

"You already told me who the murderer was," Shinichi reminded him. "And I believe you."

"And the police?"

"Megure believes me."

Kaito snorted. "You should still go back and help them gather evidence. They're useless without you, you know."

Shinichi laughed. "Trust me, I do. But I think, all things considered, this case has turned out to be a relatively simple one."

"Hm." Kaito pressed his free hand to the place where the jewel was hidden.

They ascended the last of the stairs in a charged silence. It felt like there were many things going unsaid, but Kaito couldn't for the life of him imagine what they might be.

৹ ৹ ৹

The roof was wide and largely empty. Bright, too, in the moonlight reflecting off of the smooth white concrete.

KID leaned more heavily against Shinichi as he maneuvered a little object out of his sleeve one-handed. He pressed a few buttons on it and waited, not looking at anything in particular.

Standing this close, Shinichi finally noticed a tiny, camouflaged earpiece in KID's ear. So, he did have an accomplice. That was good—it meant there was someone to tend to his wounds and get him home.

He stubbornly ignored the way his heart clenched and his jaw tightened at this realization. He wasn't going to be the same jealous mess he'd been in the past. Not that his connection with the phantom thief was anything like what he'd had with— he wasn't— just because they were—

He forcefully ground that train of thought to a halt.

KID, apparently receiving some sort of answer that Shinichi could not hear, gusted out a big sigh of what sounded like relief. "My assistant's on his way. Mind helping me find a seat?"

Not trusting his words, Shinichi just nodded, leading KID to a stack of wooden pallets near the door. KID lowered himself gingerly and pulled the edge of his shirt up again to examine the wound. It had started to bleed through the gauze, leaving a small crimson stain on the dark silk.

"Damn it, I'm going to owe Shirane-san for these clothes."

Shinichi smiled despite himself. "Did you really leave him in his underwear back there?"

"Sometimes a phantom thief has to improvise," KID sniffed with great dignity, peeling the dressing back to replace it.

The hole was small—a handgun round, from the sound of it—but the edges were dark and angry-looking. There was a lot of blood, but not so much that Shinichi suspected a punctured spleen or other especially vascular tissue. Maybe KID really had been so lucky.

Shinichi watched in fascination as the thief pulled item after item out of sleeves and pockets, efficiently applying the most practiced first-aid Shinichi had seen in a while. He supposed it must come with the "job".

"…Anything I can do to help?" he finally worked himself up to ask.

"Oh," KID blinked at him, as if he'd forgotten Shinichi was there. "Yes, actually, if you could just—" he gestured at the dressing over the exit wound.

Shinichi knelt beside him and forced his whirling thoughts to calm down. He wasn't thinking about how he'd never been this close to KID before. About how muscular KID's torso was. About the ticklish flinch he caused when his fingers first brushed against the skin.

They were silent as they continued to work, and Shinichi couldn't tell if it was awkward or if KID was just that tired.

Eventually, KID was satisfied with their work and yanked his clothes back into place. Shinichi took a respectful step back, wiping his hands on a hankerchief.

KID swept a glance across their surroundings, annoyance evident in his expression. "What's taking that old man so long?"

"'Old man'?" Shinichi couldn't help but ask.

"Y-yeah, he's," KID wiped absently at the sweat cooling on the back of his neck. "I guess it can't hurt to tell you… He's an old family friend."

"I see."

"It's important people think KID works alone, though, so please keep it to yourself, alright?" he leaned toward Shinichi with sincere, pleading eyes, hand falling to the edge of the pallet to help support his weight.

Shinichi's eyes followed the motion of KID's fingers down the side of his neck, and caught on a sudden bright smear of color that hadn't been there before. "Hey, KID!" he instinctively reached for him, one hand holding KID's chin aside and the other gripping his shoulder to hold him steady.

KID went wide-eyed and still, a bewildered prey-animal who'd just been caught unawares. "Meitantei…?" he squeaked.

"You were— you— oh."

What had looked like streaks of fresh blood on KID's neck was instead, apparently, the skin exposed beneath a layer of concealing make-up.

Thin streaks of scarlet within a fine, curling black outline. The delicate petals of a flower. A spider lily. His soul mark.

"Sorry, I thought you—" Shinichi laughed, hysteria bubbling its way out of his throat as he realized the position they were in. "The color! I thought you were hurt again!"

KID's eyes flashed with sudden realization, and he clamped both hands across the mark and shuffled painfully backward so that there was more space between them.

Shinichi released him, embarrassed and horrified and still fighting back inappropriate giggles.

KID's expression slowly melted back into confusion. "Color?"

Shinichi sobered, meeting his gaze while slowly drawing out his cellphone. "Want to see it?"

KID snatched the phone out of his hand, unlocking the screen without needing to ask for the passcode. He opened the camera app to selfie mode and angled it so he could see his own throat, and then… froze.

"Wh… When…?" he croaked.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Shinichi was the one confused now. "You were there."

KID looked at him, eyes darting down to the rose mark and back up again. "You mean we're…?"

Shinichi slapped both palms to his own face, groaning through his hands. "You mean you didn't know, this whole time? You must've still been half-asleep back there."

KID heaved himself to his feet with obvious effort. "But we've known each other for so long."

Shinichi peeked through his fingers, noting the way the thief's breaths had quickened. He looked to be on the verge of fleeing. Shinichi stepped closer and grasped his arm, an attempt to ground him. "Think about it," he said. "Tonight was the first time we've met like this." He gestured to himself. "Back in my real body. Free from the toxin."

KID's arm shifted so that he was grasping Shinichi's elbow right back. His grip was so strong it nearly hurt. "You're positive it's the two of us? There's no one else it could've…?"

Shinichi shook his head. He knew. He could feel it. "It's us."

KID still looked doubtful, but there was something else in his expression, too. His free hand reached up to touch the red flower again.

Shinichi wanted him to understand—needed him to see how obviously true it was. KID clearly had some sort of personal hang-up about this that was making him doubt his own intuition. He wished there was some way to prove it to him, to show evidence for it—

Shinichi's breath hitched. He looked at KID's mark again. It was red, and black, and that was all.

"Kaitou KID," he said, picking his phone back up and setting it to record a video. "I don't think we've been formally introduced."

KID listened, uncomprehending. His grip on Shinichi's arm started to tremble.

"My name is Kudou Shinichi." He smiled, as the tears he hadn't realized had been building finally spilled over the edge of his lashes. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Before his very eyes, the red lily started to shimmer. The edges of the mark seemed to melt and flow, spreading outward from the perimiter of the flower to form a vibrant blue border that gave the red of the petals more definition, making them stand out even more. It looked like the lily was framed against a clear evening sky.

KID, realizing what had just occurred, stared at the phone with awe. He held a hand out for it, timid, almost sheepish. Asking perimission this time.

Shinichi stopped the recording and handed it over. He watched as KID viewed the change himself, the remaining tension slowly draining out of his body.

"It's not a magic trick?" KID finally asked, in some half-dazed attempt at a joke.

Shinichi barked a laugh. "I wouldn't even know how to begin faking something like that."

"I could think of a few ways," KID was smiling, too, now. "But you're not devious enough for any of them. You detective types are too straightforward."

Shinichi rolled his eyes and snatched his phone back. "Better get used to it."

"Ha! I guess so, huh?"

A long beat of silence followed, and there was no doubt that this one was awkward.

"So, um," Shinichi cleared his throat, reaching up to touch his own mark. "Your turn?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the—" Shinichi glared at him exasperatedly. "Your name, dumbass."

"Oh." KID fidgeted, breaking eye contact.

Shinichi's stomach dropped. "You still won't tell me."

"…Not yet." KID's expression was unreadable. All at once, though, he broke into a wide grin—suddenly he was back to the same over-the-top magician persona he'd always used at heists, and the change was a little jarring after so long seeing him vulnerable and quiet. "Besides, it wouldn't feel right giving the game away that easily, right? I have to make you work for it at least a little, Meitantei."

The title, which had almost begun to feel like a term of endearment between them, now seemed like a deliberate attempt at distance. Shinichi frowned. "You're welcome to call me Shinichi. When it's just us."

KID's smile didn't falter. He shrugged, infuriatingly flippant. "Someday, sure. I think you were right before, though, that we both have more important things to do tonight than talk about this."

As if on cue, a metallic clank rang out behind them. Shinichi whirled around to see a grappling hook, latched firmly onto the railing at the roof's edge. It was KID's assistant. KID was leaving. Shinichi's blood went cold.

"KID, wait—"

"I'll get the rest of my witness statement to you as soon as we make sure I'm not dying of internal bleeding!"

"KID!"

"KID-sama!" a voice gasped, approaching at a run. "You really are alright!"

"I told you!" KID pounded his chest with a fist, striking a dignified pose. "Don't doubt me or my skills."

An elderly man with a mustache and glasses reached their position, out of breath. He laid his hands on KID's shoulders, giving him a paternal once-over, all the while casting wary glances at Shinichi. "You're certain this detective can be trusted?"

Despite everything, KID's eyes softened. He still wouldn't look at Shinichi, but he nodded firmly.

The old man gave Shinichi one last nervous look before beckoning KID to follow. "In that case, let's go. I'll take a look at your wounds back at base."

Shinichi caught KID's hand before he could walk away. "KID."

"…What is it, Meitantei?"

"Promise you'll come find me. At least to tell me you're alright."

KID's fingers twitched.

"I mean it. I don't know what's got you so scared, but you can trust me. This is no time for one of your disappearing acts."

KID snorted, but still wouldn't look at him. His eyes were instead locked on the rising moon. "We'll meet again, Meitantei. One way or the other."

"What's that supposed to—"

There was a dull bang, followed by a cloud of pale blue smoke that startled Shinichi into releasing his grip on KID's hand. By the time he'd regained his footing, the pair of thieves were already in the air, a black hang-glider attached to the old man's back and KID strapped to his chest as a passenger.

"Go get the bad guy, Meitantei!" KID shouted before they dipped out of sight. He wore a startlingly grave expression. "Hasumi-san deserves justice!"

৹ ৹ ৹

The turbulent escape (and landing) had done nothing to ease the strain on Kaito's wounds. He felt like absolute shit. The prospect of letting Jii poke further at it—and then, ugh, having to pretend for the next several weeks of his normal life that he hadn't just been shot—sounded like a living hell.

Maybe he'd just feign the flu.

Jii was folding up the glider and stashing it along with their other tools in the safehouse. Thankfully it hadn't been far from the auction house—they could still see the glow of the emergency vehicles a few streets over.

"Young master," he addressed Kaito with uncharacteristic softness. "I know you've had a difficult day, and it's really none of my business, but I couldn't help but notice…"

Kaito groaned, throwing an arm across his eyes and draping himself as dramatically as he could across the futon they kept here for emergencies. "My mark?"

"Yes, did that, er, just happen tonight?"

Kaito squinted at him over the top of his arm. "Jii-chan, you know it was blank before the heist."

"Yes, well," Jii was trying and failing to hide a smile. "I was only confirming. Should I assume the odd blue flower on that young detective had something to do with it?"

Instead of answering, Kaito decided to try smothering himself with a pillow.

Jii, accustomed to his dramatics, merely flung the pillow away and sat next to him with a tray of more advanced medical tools than what they'd had on hand at the heist. He chuckled warmly, "Congratulations, Young Master Kaito."

Kaito merely continued to pout. At least Jii wouldn't pry into the details, but it was still oddly embarrassing.

After thoroughly numbing the area around the wound and performing a more in-depth inspection and disinfection of it, Jii finally let him up. "I don't know how you always manage to get away with it, but somehow the injury's not too serious. I think there's a good chance you'll make a full and complete recovery."

Jii knew better than to advise him to take it easy, though it was still implied in the gentle, pleading look Jii was giving him.

"Great," Kaito clapped his hands together, feeling a bit better now that the pain was temporarily numbed, although the fatigue still clung to the edges of his awareness. "Time to see if the bastard who shot me actually had a good reason to do so."

Jii watched as Kaito stood up and pulled on a spare shirt, brow furrowing. "You really think this one could be it?"

"I don't know why else someone would kill over such a dinky stone." He produced the little sky-blue jewel, not even the length of his thumb, and turned it around under the dingy yellow lights of the back room. It was pretty, sure, but he'd stolen dozens of fancier-looking gems.

He shuddered, closing his fist around the jewel. "Well, if it is Pandora, I guess we'd better find out sooner rather than later."

The two of them made their way outside, into the alley behind the safehouse. A slant of silver moonlight cut its way between a gap in the buildings.

Kaito sucked in a steadying breath before stepping into it. He could feel his heart in his throat.

How will I explain to Shinichi if I can't return this one?

The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, and he almost had to laugh.

We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

He opened his hand.

The jewel remained blue.

Kaito and Jii each let out a long exhale, whether disappointed or relieved or some other undefinable emotion.

…And actually. The jewel looked more blue-green, now, than anything.

Kaito narrowed his eyes at it, turning it this way and that in the moonbeam.

"Jii-chan, please fetch me the refractometer and a blacklight."

Chapter Text

Shinichi backtracked the way they'd come, all the way to the ground floor, stopping only long enough to wash the blood and grime from his hands. It did feel odd to be the one disposing of evidence for once, but it was important to keep the extent of KID's injuries on a need-to-know basis for now. If the killer found out that KID was not just alive but had also successfully made off with their shared target, there could be agents on the outside waiting to move in as armed backup. Shinichi simply wasn't going to risk that.

He needed to get back and check in with Megure—he'd already been missing for far too long—but first he had to try and retrace KID's steps during and after the murder, to see if there was any more concrete evidence he could uncover.

The security cameras were still malfunctioning, despite the power having returned long ago. No doubt KID's doing. But he still knew enough from KID's scattered testimony to have an idea of where to begin.

KID had switched places with Shirane Mitsuki in the main auditorium. He'd had to hide the unconscious man under the stage there because KID was too injured to move him any further than the very room in which he'd been knocked out. A risky move, but KID was well-versed in this sort of stealthy costume exchange, in addition to having the cover of darkness.

Only then would they have heard the second gunshot.

He must he have signalled to his assistant to turn the lights back on, so he could convince the others to follow him to the crime scene.

As Shinichi scanned along the corridors between the auditorium and the display room, he wondered what had gone through the thief's mind at that moment. He could have just continued laying low, or stayed hidden altogether, but instead he'd brought attention to himself and walked right back toward the source of the danger. He must have hoped there was still a chance to save Hasumi.

"I told her she was safe," he'd said.

But, no matter what, something about this scene wasn't right. The other witnesses had all agreed that the Shiranes had been with Katou, the manager, at the time the electricity returned, and the three of them were together until the police arrived. It was impossible for KID not to have noticed him there.

Unless he'd known something Shirane Kousuke didn't. Had Katou's presence in the auditorium been one of KID's tricks, too, then? One of his puppets or body doubles? If that was the case, how did Katou know so much about what had happened back then? He'd known about the Shiranes arguing until the lights came up, and how "Mitsuki" had been the one to set off toward the gunfire.

Could he simply have made an educated guess?

I told her she was safe—

Where had KID left Hasumi in the first place? He'd made it sound like they'd left the room he'd been shot in—the display room, Shinichi was certain, thanks to the dove feather—so how had her body ended up back inside that very room? And why?

There was one person at this gathering whose movements were as yet completely unaccounted for. Shinichi regretted not grilling her for more details on her absence, earlier. However, when thinking of the events of the night from KID's perspective, Shitomi Akari would have been the perfect tool to get Hasumi alone. What if KID had impersonated not one but two people tonight?

Wherever he'd stashed the unconscious Shitomi would have been somewhere he considered well-hidden, unlikely to be found without a thorough search—safe.

And who better to protect Hasumi than her soulmate?

Shinichi pulled to a sudden stop as something caught his eye. Among all the identical doors along the hall, only one had something jutting out from beneath it. It was the corner of a clear vinyl cover, like one might use to protect old upholstery from dust.

He donned fresh gloves and tested the handle. The door was not locked. It swung open to reveal a storage room full of stacked chairs and shelves of seasonal decor—not sale items, just furniture owned by the auction house for its own use. The vinyl sheet was indeed for the chairs, but one had been torn off its stack and dragged, perhaps accidentally, toward the door. There were other signs of disarray, too—an entire shelf had been knocked off the wall, and with it several boxes that had emptied their contents across the floor. It was mostly small, decorative items that matched the style of those in the building's various seating areas—statuettes, vases, candle holders—but one item stood out.

It was a small brass table lamp, identical to several others from one of the boxes that had fallen, except, unlike the others, the glass fixture that would have housed the bulb was still intact. Shinichi picked it up and turned it over.

A tiny smear of blood on the base of the lamp. One that would have been difficult to see and wipe clean in the dark.

He'd found the source of the blunt-force injury to Hasumi's head. But what did this mean? There was only one person who could have used this weapon against the victim, and it wasn't Katou.

And if she had been attacked here, why would the assailant have gone the extra mile to bring her back to the display room?

৹ ৹ ৹

"Young Master, you can't go back in this state."

"What if it's important to the case, Jii-chan? What if this is information he needs to bring the bastard to justice?"

"Surely it can wait until morning, at least—"

"If Katou gets set loose, he could be out of the country by then!"

"Please calm down, you said yourself that this isn't the organization after Pandora."

"This guy's still done his research, though. I think it's likely he would have had an escape route planned ahead of time, whether tonight had gone the way he'd wanted or not."

"Hmm."

"I'm going, and you won't convince me otherwise."

A long sigh. "Then at least let me help you ready your suit."

৹ ৹ ৹

"Where have you been, Kudou-kun?" Megure's gruff voice cut across the bustling of the investigators. His brow was scrunched up in an expression that might have been either disapproval or concern.

"Sorry, Inspector," Shinichi replied coolly, eyes scanning across the crime scene once more. He observed that the body had been removed from the scene, leaving only the wine-dark pool of blood. "I had to confirm a few details elsewhere."

"What details? You said in your message that Kaitou KID of all people was here?"

Shinichi strode over to where he'd first found the feather and began searching for any sign of where the dove might have gone. "He was, but he managed to get away. Again."

Megure folded his arms over his chest, looming over Shinichi in an attempt to look imposing. "You should have told us he was here sooner, Kudou-kun! We could have locked down the exits—"

"With all due respect, you know it takes more than that to prevent KID's escape."

Megure stood down, reluctantly, but his face was still red. "Still, you just disappeared without explaining anything! What if you'd been in danger?"

"I told you exactly where I was. I interrogated KID for information on the murder, and he was very cooperative about that. He said he wanted to speak to me alone, but I had no time to call for backup either way. Then when he inevitably slipped away, I tried getting a hold of you, but it was already too late and I lost track of him in the pursuit."

"I don't like taking that thief at his word," Megure grumbled.

"I don't either," Shinichi lied, eyes finally landing on one of the air return vents on the ceiling. Was it just his imagination, or was one side slightly crooked? "But his story added up. He's not a murderer."

"So are you going to explain to us who did it?"

"In due time." Shinichi shined a light up through the vent grill, catching a tiny glint of something reflective inside.

A faint, inquisitive coo? filtered down from the duct. Shinichi smiled.

Megure had shuffled over to his side and was now staring hard at the vent as if it might reveal everything to him.

"For now," Shinichi said as he turned away, hands in his pockets, "I'd like to speak to the suspects one last time. I have just a few more questions I'd like to ask them." He also had a few things he'd like to do to a certain bastard among them, but Shinichi was nothing if not professional. He could refrain from dispensing violent, kick-based retribution… as long as the asshole went quietly.

Megure sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Can't ever just let the rest of us know what you're thinking, can you, Kudou-kun? Alright, follow me; I believe we've started gathering the suspects together in the lobby."

The lobby was less lavish than the display rooms, more sleek and modern in style. The reception counter was made of shiny black glass, and the furniture around the edge of the room was equally monochrome and prone to geometric angles.

In the center of the room stood the remains of the tour group: the deceased's soulmate, Shitomi; the friends who'd set up the tour, the Shiranes; and the collections manager, Katou.

Shirane Mitsuki—dressed in an ill-fitting plaid button-up and jeans that must have been provided by the police—was standing with his back to the circle, arms crossed petulantly. His husband Kousuke was trying to get him to look at him, but Mitsuki kept turning away.

"I'm telling you, I did suspect something was odd!" Kousuke was saying. "But what kind of lunatic would I have been to jump straight to the conclusion that you'd been replaced by an imposter?"

Mitsuki rounded on him, jabbing his chest with an accusing finger. "We've been married for four years! You really believe I would volunteer to run after some gun-toting maniac?"

"I thought—" Kousuke's face twisted into a pained wince. "I don't know, I thought maybe you'd been so scared that it burst through the other side, somehow? You were being very brave and dashing."

"Except that wasn't me, you idiot!"

"Oh, right. I meant—"

"Can this please wait until you two get home?" a softer voice chimed in. All eyes fell on Shitomi Akari, one hand to her forehead as if staving off a migraine.

"Shit," Mitsuki deflated instantly. "I'm sorry, Akari-san."

She shifted her weight, leaning away from the pair. Katou, on her other side, watched with an odd, intense expression on his face.

Shinichi cleared his throat, stepping closer to get everyone's attention.

"You again?" Shitomi asked, brow furrowing.

Kousuke had perked up, "Everything alright, Detective?" His husband was rapidly glancing between him and Shinichi, out of the loop.

"We're all doing fine," Shinichi replied pointedly, and Kousuke's small smile seemed to indicate he understood.

"What about that murderous thief?" Mitsuki demanded, fury rising again. "Did you catch him yet?"

"Hush, darling," Kousuke was shushing him. "Let the detective speak."

"Kaitou KID is not the murderer," Shinichi said.

"What do you mean, he's not?"

Now all eyes were on Katou. He seemed surprised at his own outburst, but continued haltingly, "We learn that there was a known criminal here—a lunatic famous for being unpredictable—and you expect us to believe he wasn't the one responsible?"

"That's right," Shinichi said, to the skeptical looks of all those assembled, including Inspector Megure. "Unless you have some evidence to the contrary?"

Katou blinked dumbly as his neatly-combed hair began once again to fall into his face.

"There wasn't anything of his at the crime scene?" Shitomi piped up instead, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "Then how did you even know he was here?"

"There were subtle signs," Shinichi allowed. "And I've seen enough of his work to be familiar with his patterns."

"What signs!?" Megure cried, indignant.

"Subtle?" Katou muttered softly.

"Yes, so subtle that even I almost missed them. Why, had you expected us to find something else?"

"I… no. I don't know." Katou's foot had begun its rapid tapping.

Shinichi decided to switch his angle of attack. "Shitomi-san."

"Yes?" Her gray eyes were sharply focused.

"Can you tell me more about your whereabouts at the time of the murder?"

She was silent for a few beats. "I got lost. During the blackout."

"Do you remember getting lost?"

Another long pause. Something in her face shifted. "…No. One moment I was walking beside Saki, and the next I was waking up in some unfamiliar closet."

"See, he got her as well!" Mitsuki cried, shaking Kousuke by the shoulder. "That's exactly what happened to me! That no-good, deceitful—!"

Shinichi cleared his throat once more. "Shitomi-san, when exactly did you wake up? Do you remember hearing the gunshots?"

"No, it— it must have been afterward." She hugged her arms tightly around herself, shoulders hunched. "I had barely found my way back to the stairs by the time the police officers found me."

Shinichi narrowed his eyes at her. "Then the last time you saw the victim was…?"

"Before that thief knocked me out," she frowned, sinking into herself, one hand curling to anxiously twist the thick black bangle around her other wrist.

Shinichi's eyes zeroed in on the motion. "What if I told you that wasn't the last time Hasumi-san saw you?"

She froze, meeting his eyes with a suspicious look. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because you were both in that storage closet between the time of the first and second gunshots."

She straightened up. "Why would you— Do you have proof of that?"

He remembered the heft of the brass lamp in his hand. "Yes, I think forensics will prove that without a doubt once I tell them where to find the weapon."

"Weapon!?" Megure spluttered, as the rest of the group reacted with a similar level of shock. "You mean you found the gun?!"

"No, not the gun that killed her. The weapon that was used to knock her unconscious beforehand."

Megure snapped his fingers. "The head wound! Excellent work, Kudou-kun. But… wait, that would mean—"

"What are you saying?" Kousuke had placed himself between Shinichi and Shitomi, arm outstretched protectively. "Akari-san would never have hurt Saki."

"That's right!" Mitsuki chimed in, taking up a similar position to shield her from the investigators. "She and Saki were soulmates! I've never heard such a ridiculous theory."

"They've got a point, Kudou-kun," Megure said, stroking his chin. "If you're accusing Shitomi-san of attacking her soulmate, you had better have some extraordinary evidence to back it up."

The corner of Shinichi's mouth twitched. "Maybe soulmates are more capable of hurting each other than you'd think."

"What about the gun?" Katou's voice cut through the chaos, and an uneasy hush followed.

"What about it?"

"You say you have evidence she attacked Hasumi-san in this storage closet, but we were told the victim died of a bullet wound. Can you prove Shitomi-san fired the gun?"

He was staring directly at Shinichi, a fierce challenge in his gaze.

"We haven't found the gun yet, but I have my suspicions as to where it might have ended up."

"I-is that so…?"

"Shitomi-san," Shinichi pointed at her. "What is that bracelet made of?"

She startled, looking down at the bangle with wide eyes.

A chorus of 'huh?'s went around the circle. Megure sent Shinichi a quizzical look.

"P-plastic…"

Shinichi hummed. "You said you were an artist?"

"Yes…?"

"You said you dabbled in a number of media?"

Shitomi's expression went flinty. "Yes."

"How familiar are you with digital modeling programs?"

Only a silent scowl in reponse.

He turned toward Megure. "Do you know anything about 3D printers?"

Megure pointed a finger at himself, befuddled. "Me? Not really. I know it can create little trinkets and toys and things…"

"Indeed," Shinichi agreed. "But the technology is becoming quite advanced nowadays, and some very intricate pieces can be created."

"I'm not sure where you're going with this," Megure huffed.

"There was a famous incident some years ago of a digital artist printing small firearms out of plastic."

"Oh!" the Inspector lit up with recognition. "Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing about that at the time! There were public concerns because they were said to be undetectable by metal detectors!"

"True, which would explain how such a gun could have made it into the building without incident, but our question is: where has it ended up after the murder?"

Katou's jaw had gone rigid. "How does a piece of plastic jewelry do anything to prove—"

"You sounded surprised that there was nothing at the scene incriminating Kaitou KID," Shinichi interrupted. "Almost like you'd seen something there."

"If I had, I would have told you the first time I gave my testimony!"

"Unless you had some reason for concealing that information at the time," Shinichi watched as the man's breathing stopped. "You didn't want us to know that you knew Kaitou KID had been here."

"Wh-why would I lie about that?"

"You would have no reason to… unless you had been attempting to steal the same jewel as him."

The gathered people exploded into chaos again, and Megure had to quiet everyone down.

"Now you're accusing the manager of being the culprit?" Mitsuki demanded. "I thought you said Akari-san had made the gun."

"We'll get there," Shinichi assured him. "Katou-san wielded the pistol, though. I'm certain of that."

Katou scoffed. "How? You said you don't even have this imaginary plastic gun."

"You thought there would be evidence of KID's presence at the scene," Shinichi repeated. "But by the time the police arrived, it was gone. Knowing KID's methods, I'm certain it's because he tried to clean up after himself."

Katou went pale.

Shitomi growled. "Stop dancing around the issue and tell us this theory of yours!"

"I think there was something of KID's left behind. One of his trademark cards, perhaps. And the killer brought Hasumi-san's unconscious body there before finishing her off, in hopes that the blame would fall on KID's shoulders instead. But what they didn't account for was how thorough this phantom thief can be at covering his tracks."

"He returned to the scene of the crime?" Megure asked. "When?"

"No, not in person. KID has highly-trained doves that he uses for his tricks. I wouldn't doubt that one of the things he's taught them is to sweep the floor for certain incriminating debris and hide it for him until he has a chance to come back for it later."

"Trained doves??" Katou repeated. "You're joking."

"The thing about 3D printed guns is that they're notoriously very fragile," Shinichi continued, undeterred. "They rarely last more than a handful of shots before the material itself begins to crack under the strain—"

"Fine! It was me!"

Shinichi's words died in his throat. Everyone stared at Katou—sweating, knees trembling, hair in his face.

"You confess to killing Hasumi Saki-san?" Megure took a pointed step toward him, reaching for the handcuffs in his coat.

"Yes. I—I fired the gun twice. First at that thief, and then at… the victim. The gun exploded, and I guess those birds cleaned up the pieces after I fled."

"…No."

"No??" Katou and Megure said in unison.

"The doves did clean up the remains of the gun," Shinichi explained. "But you couldn't have been the one to fire it."

"Why not?" Katou made as if to lunge toward Shinichi, and Megure put a hand to the man's chest in warning.

"Because you were in the main auditorium at the time of the second gunshot."

"I— obviously I lied about that in my testimony! The thief used my likeness to trick the Shiranes, and I went along with it to fake my alibi!"

"Half true," Shinichi glowered at him. "It was indeed a fake duplicate that led the Shiranes to the auditorium, but by the time the second shot rang out, you were there, too, Katou-san!"

"Y-you don't have any proof of that!"

"Your original testimony is proof enough!" He pointed at Mitsuki. "You said that Shirane-san was the one to lead you all toward the gunshots. Having seen how severe his phobia was when the blackout first occured, you couldn't possibly have predicted he'd do something like that the moment the lights came back. You had to have been there to witness it yourself."

"This is— wild speculation!"

"No, it's the truth. You may have fired the first shot, but you didn't kill Hasumi-san."

"What motive could either of us have had for doing this?" Shitomi pushed her way to the center of the arguing parties. "All this for some worthless little jewel? What could be worth hurting my soulmate?"

Shinichi noticed for the first time that there were tears shimmering in her eyes. It was enough to give him pause.

"It's not a normal gemstone," Shinichi eventually said, though his confident stance had begun to slip away from him. "There's something special about it, or else Kaitou KID wouldn't have chosen it as his target."

"He's a jewel thief, you nitwit!"

"Darling, shush!"

"I'm afraid they have a point, Kudou-kun," Megure's furrowed brow was etched with disappointment. "We'll need more than that to back up your claims."

"The motive will come to light once we've looked into their histories—"

"Kudou-kun, we can't hold these people on such flimsy evidence. You haven't even given us a reason for Katou-san to have had the plastic gun. If it was made by Shitomi-san, wouldn't that mean the two of them are working together?"

Shinichi's fists clenched at his sides. Of course they were working together. He didn't know why, yet, but there had to be a reason.

And, as much as he would deny it, he was bothered by the soulmate connection, too. It wasn't impossible for Shitomi to have killed her soulmate, but it was unheard of.

He tried to imagine aiming a gun at KID. His stomach lurched. His hands went clammy.

Maybe there was something he'd missed. Maybe they'd all made a false assumption somewehere along the way.

He remembered the red camellia brooch. How he'd been surprised to learn that Shitomi's mark was of a plum blossom, instead.

"Shitomi-san, please let us take a closer look at your soulmate mark."

"What?" she nearly shouted. "Absolutely not!"

"I merely want to compare the colors with your soulmate's. To confirm."

"To confirm!? She just died, you horrible, insensitive—!"

Megure was looking between them uneasily, but Shinichi's stony expression seemed to be enough to harden his resolve. He caught Shitomi's wrist as she moved to strike Shinichi herself. "That's enough, ma'am. Please let us see it."

She was still shaking with rage, but eventually, after a long, stubborn stand-off, she sighed, going limp in the Inspector's hold. Slowly, with shaking hands, she pulled her bracelet aside, exposing her wrist.

The black outline of a plum blossom was there, clear as day.

The inside of the mark, where there had once been vibrant, dark pink color, was empty.

"What…?"

"Huh?!"

"But it was pink, before; I saw it!"

Shinichi's eyes widened. "Someone get me a UV light from forensics."

"Kudou-kun…?"

"Just do it!"

The tool was brought quickly, while Shitomi Akari stood perfectly still, refusing to look at anyone or anything. She wore a pained expression. Katou Hiroshi looked on with equal horror, pale and helpless.

Shinichi took the proffered blacklight and flicked it on, pressing the dull purple glow directly against the skin of Shitomi's wrist. She didn't fight it. He moved it in a slow zig-zag across the area a few times, going over the entire right half of the flower, before lifting it away.

That half of the blossom was pink. Just as bright as before.

The surrounding gasps made way for rapid, confused questions. Shinichi took in a breath through his nose before staring hard at Shitomi. "You certainly do dabble, don't you?"

She lifted her head, finally, to meet his eyes. "Do I?"

"So-called 'magic' tattoo ink," he said, thumbing a switch on the flashlight so that the beam became a normal, bright white. He pressed it to her skin again, repeating the procedure. "Photochromic particles embedded in the skin that can be activated via application of UV light, becoming visible to the naked eye. The same particles can be deactivated by light of lower wavelengths—in this case, ordinary white light—leaving them transparent. Colorless."

He lifted the flashlight, exposing the pale, unmarked skin.

"Her mark was fake?" Megure was yelling.

It was. She hadn't killed her soulmate after all.

"Yes, a tattoo," Shinichi said. "And quite the convincing one, too."

Shitomi snatched her wrist back, cradling it to her chest and laughing humorlessly. "I suppose I should thank you for the compliment."

"What do you have to say for yourself, Shitomi-san?"

"Who cares if her mark was fake?" Katou did manage to reach Shinichi this time, grabbing him by the collar as multiple officers moved to yank Katou back. "You still have no proof she pulled that trigger! I already told you, I'm the one that killed Hasumi-san!"

"Oh," Shinichi breathed, the final piece clicking into place. "You're her real soulmate."

Katou stumbled backward as if struck, hand flying to his chest.

"Is this true!?" Megure looked sternly back and forth between the two suspects. "At this point, I think there's more than enough cause for a search, if necessary. This would certainly put all of tonight's events in a new light."

Katou stuttered for a bit, eyes darting about like those of a cornered animal. "It wouldn't matter, either way! You can't place her at the scene."

Shinichi readjusted his shirt. "I'm afraid I can."

"What?"

He held out a hand. "Your bracelet, Shitomi-san."

She stared at him, a helpless giggle escaping her throat. She slid the bracelet off and dropped it into his palm.

He shone the flashlight on its shiny black surface and found exactly what he'd expected to see. "Look," he turned it toward the others. "There's a tiny UV bulb embedded on the inside."

"Ah, that's how she kept the mark always looking fresh!" Megure guessed.

"Exactly. Otherwise, even regular light sources would have made the mark fade over time."

"But then, why was the color gone when we looked at it just now?"

"Exactly the right question, Inspector. If the mark had been so integral to her deception, surely she would have kept it refreshed regularly, and especially at a time like this. The only explanation is that she couldn't, which means the mechanism in this bracelet is broken."

"Ah, bad luck," Mitsuki muttered with a nervous chuckle, still looking shellshocked by all that had happened.

"Bad luck, perhaps," Shinichi said, running his thumb along the edge of the bracelet until he found the second, even more damning, thing he'd been expecting. "But it was the result of a calculated risk."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The plastic gun. When it exploded, the pieces flew in every direction. The shooter was lucky not to suffer burns or lose an eye. But one piece of shrapnel did strike something important."

He angled the flashlight to better show off what he'd found: a long, thin crack. It was hard to see against the dark plastic, but it extended nearly the entire width of the band, with a slightly larger chip on the leading edge.

"This is what broke the light inside the bracelet. I wouldn't be surprised if there are still traces of gunpowder on it, or even tiny fragments of the gun itself," he said.

"What a ridiculous—"

"Hiroshi, enough." Shitomi had taken Katou's hand in hers. He jumped at the touch, but, seeing her resigned expression, slowly deflated, his thin shoulders slumping.

"Do you both admit it, then?" Megure put his hands on his hips, looking tired and defeated, himself. "To conspiring together to kill Hasumi Saki-san?"

"I never meant to hurt her," Shitomi said, voice thick with fresh tears. "We never meant to hurt her."

"It was supposed to be a simple con," Katou explained, taking Shitomi into his arms. "We would swap her real jewel with a fake, during the tour tonight, then Akari would disappear from her life without explanation."

"We were going to start a new life overseas," Shitomi sniffled. "Just the two of us."

"With the profits from a one-hundred-carat aquamarine?" Shinichi asked, skeptical.

"Ha!" Katou laughed explosively. "Hahaha! I thought you had everything figured out, Detective, but it seems you still have no idea why all this happened in the first place!"

"Why don't you tell us, then?" Mitsuki cut in, jabbing a finger at the man's chest. It seemed his fury had found a new target, now that the real villains had been exposed.

"There's no point anymore," Shitomi sighed, resting her head on her soulmate's shoulder. "The thief has the jewel now, anyway."

"A woman has died!" Kousuke leaned in beside his husband.

"Our friend has died!"

"And you won't even have the decency to tell us why you did it?"

Katou and Shitomi looked into each other's eyes for a long minute.

"I did it for him."

"I did it for her."

"That's the only thing that matters now."

A stunned silence washed over the lobby. Megure only sighed softly, nodding his head toward the pair, and the surrounding officers approached with handcuffs to take them away.

৹ ৹ ৹

Kaito watched the flurry of activity from his perch across the street. Katou and Shitomi were led out in handcuffs, gazing all the while into each other's eyes as if they were the last two people on earth.

"…Huh." Kaito leaned his chin in one hand, cognizant that he'd missed some important context. At least Hasumi's killer was going away for good. That was the important thing.

The rapid fluttering of wings drew his attention back to his own hiding place, and suddenly he was buffeted with clumsy flapping around his head. The two doves from the heist had found their way back outside and were now sitting on his shoulders with the aura of dogs begging for a treat.

"Yes, thanks, girls, you did great," he muttered, gently scratching their little heads. "Maybe next time bring the incriminating evidence out with you so I don't have to sneak back in there myself."

The smaller dove puffed up proudly, dropping something shiny in front of him. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was a bullet.

He nearly dropped it but managed to catch it again in shaking hands. "Where did you even—? Belle-chan, you didn't have to go that far!"

She tilted her head at him, pupils shrinking to tiny pinpricks.

Kaito sighed, giving her another little scratch that left her melting into his shoulder. "Bijou-chan may need help with stealth, but you might be a little too good at your job. We'll have to review what items are appropriate for clean-up duty and which are important evidence to leave in place."

A duet of happy cooing was the only response.

One by one, the MPD and their affiliates filed out of the auction house, the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles extinguished as they pulled away. The street was so much quieter without them. So much darker and more inviting.

One of the last to leave—because of course he was—was Kudou Shinichi.

Kaito's soulmate.

He touched the mark on his neck, breathless all over again at the thought. He'd always thought the spider lily had been a bad omen. Perhaps its association with death wasn't so far-fetched after all, but for the first time ever, Kaito wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Shinichi had a way of encountering tragedies and digging with all his might until a spark of goodness shone through. He'd proven, over and over again, that doing the right thing meant more than doing what was "correct". He wanted to help people, regardless of the rules or obstacles in his way. He actually cared.

Finally, Kaito understood why the spider lily was sometimes also called a symbol of "protection".

It was a good thing no one could see him up here. The dopey, smitten grin on his face must make him look like an absolute fool.

Shinichi stepped further out from the entrance of the auction house, and Kaito realized he'd been held up for so long because he was speaking with the Shiranes. They were chatting more with the casual air of friends than the rigid structure of a police questioning, and even from this distance Kaito could see that Mitsuki was babbling and bowing in apology while Shinichi laughed.

When they seemed to be wrapping up, Kaito couldn't stand it any longer.

Are you really going to keep me waiting all night?

He watched as the sound of the notification caught Shinichi's attention.

Puzzled, the detective pulled his phone from his pocket, then squinted suspiciously at the spoofed name, reading: Your Secret Admirer.

Is this who I think it is?

Depends on who you're thinking I am

He could see Shinichi smiling. The detective waved goodbye to the Shiranes, calling something over his shoulder to them as he jogged out to the sidewalk and began not-so-subtly scanning the rooftops.

I would tell you who I'm thinking of, but unfortunately I don't know his name.

Sounds cool and mysterious. You should ask him for it next time you see him

Shinichi's eyes landed, unerringly—how did he do that??—on Kaito's position. He stopped in his tracks, holding the phone to his chest for a moment while they simply looked at each other.

After a moment, Shinichi broke away to send another text, and Kaito had to clear the unexpected wave of emotion out of his throat before he had the strength to read it:

Actually, he's kind of an asshole.

"SHINICHIIIIII," he wailed, draping himself pathetically over the stonework as his doves took to the air and his soulmate laughed, making frantic shushing noises.

Since you're so mean to me, I've decided I'm never telling

You lost your one chance

Are you always this much of a baby when you're not on a heist?

MEAN!!!!!!!!!! (*。>Д<)o゜

And coming back here while injured wasn't the smartest choice, either.

You're going to tear your stitches or something.

You DID get medical attention before rushing back, right?

Yes, MOM, I have a doctor's note and everything

And for your information, I thought you might have needed my help!

?

I found out what's special about the jewel

Oh. I suppose it wasn't needed in the end, but

I admit I still want to know.

It's priveleged information for people who aren't big mean jerks to me

Fine, I can play nice for my cool and mysterious soulmate.

Hmm (￣へ￣)

I have chosen to forgive you this time

How magnanimous of you.

I think you'll find I have a VERY generous and merciful heart

Modest, too, I'll bet.

The MOST modest

So are you going to tell me your damn name or what?

Wouldn't you rather hear it face-to-face?

He watched Shinichi's reaction, more genuine than before. The detective looked almost insecure as he slowly caught Kaito's eye, nodding in affirmation.

Kaito grinned. He couldn't let it go that easily.

Great! Race you home ο(=•ω＜=)ρ⌒☆

Chapter Text

The fading evening light made the passing trees blur together in a yellow-orange haze. Saki supposed the effect was beautiful, highlighting the bright budding of new leaves on the branches, the occasional bright fuchsia pop of an ornamental plum beginning to bloom.

It was hard to bring herself to feel much of anything, today.

The window of the train was cool against her forehead, at least. It helped take the edge off of the headache that had been building since that morning.

"…Can I get you anything, ma'am?"

A woman in an attendant uniform had stopped by Saki's seat, polite smile belying the look of concern in her eyes.

"No, no. I don't need anything, thank you."

The attendant nodded, then shifted from foot to foot for a moment as if deciding whether to keep walking. Eventually, glancing up and down the aisle to check if anyone was watching, she took the empty seat next to Saki.

"I don't mean to overstep, but you look like you could use someone to talk to."

Saki blinked stupidly at her. "You want to talk to me?"

The woman tilted her head. "Only if you want to talk to me."

Saki pulled herself up a little straighter, rubbing tiredly at the side of her face with one hand. It came away black with smudged mascara, and she just sighed and laid the hand back in her lap.

"I'm Hanamoto Yuuka."

"…Hasumi Saki," she replied automatically, barely paying attention.

"If I may ask, are you traveling alone this evening?"

"I am."

The look of concern deepened, but Saki had no feelings about it one way or the other.

"My husband's dead," she said. It felt good to say it out loud.

"I'm sorry," Yuuka said, though she didn't seem surprised. The black clothes and silent weeping had probably been big clues. "You didn't have any family or friends to take you home?"

"I have family. Just didn't want to go with them. I thought the train would clear my head."

Yuuka nodded silently for a few seconds. She was sitting rigidly in her seat, exuding awkwardness, but she hadn't stood up to leave, yet. "And did it?"

"What?"

"Did it clear your head?"

Saki glanced out the window at the vermillion blur of the passing hills. "I guess so."

"Hmm."

Saki looked at Yuuka again. "I still don't really get why you're here." Not upset, just confused.

"I don't know either. I just saw you sitting by yourself, and you looked—" she drummed her hands in her lap a few times, still awkward. "I don't know," she repeated.

"You thought you could cheer me up?"

"No, that's not it," Yuuka said, dismissing the thought out of hand.

"Well then I guess we're both here for reasons we don't understand."

"Isn't that just life?" Yuuka chuckled.

Saki didn't laugh, but she did raise an eyebrow at the attendant's carefree tone.

"I meant—" Yuuka cleared her throat.

"I don't mind. We can talk."

"About what?"

"I have no preference. Ask me a question."

"About what?"

"Anything." Saki was surprised to find that she meant that. Maybe she did need someone to talk to.

"What… was your husband like?"

Yuuka's nose scrunched up, mentally berating herself for being insensitive, most likely.

"He was nice," Saki said easily. "Quiet, a little quirky sometimes, but I liked him."

Yuuka's posture softened, and she placed a hand to her heart. "He sounds great."

"We were both quiet people. Didn't get out much. He had all these little hobbies that kept him busy—collecting things, building things—and I mostly just… stuck around and watched him do all that."

"…You mean you never had anything you did for yourself?"

"Not for lack of opportunity, you understand. I just never did it. I never found anything I liked to do."

Yuuka was nodding again.

"Do you think it's terrible of me?"

Yuuka stopped nodding to catch her eye. "What?"

"I never made any friends. I never had any children. I never developed any skills. And now he's dead, and I'm even more alone and have even more pressure to do something with my life, and doesn't it all just seem pointless?"

Yuuka was watching her very carefully. Saki realized suddenly how she must sound.

She rubbed at her face again, digging a tissue out of her bag and wiping the smudged make-up off properly, or as best as she could without a mirror. "I'm sorry; you're a stranger, I shouldn't be laying all this on you—"

"Do you really think those things are important?" Saki froze. "Having a lot of friends and hobbies and children? Do you actually care about that?"

"Y-yes…? I mean, not— I mean it in an abstract sense. What am I doing with my life?"

"What do you want to do with your life?"

Saki let out a frustrated huff. "I just told you I don't know!"

"I want to open a flower shop."

"You— what?"

The sudden shift of the spotlight had left Saki feeling dizzy. Yuuka just smiled. "I want to grow my own flowers and sell them. I've always loved gardening, since I was a little girl."

Saki found herself leaning over the arm of her seat, inexplicably entranced. "You mean like those elaborate floral arrangements? The really artsy stuff?"

"Definitely not," she laughed. "Just regular bouquets and things like that. I think it'd be fun."

"Huh," Saki slumped more comfortably across the armrest, too drained for propriety. "I guess I'd never thought of doing something that simple."

Yuuka gave her another quizzical look. "I wouldn't call running a small business simple, but I guess I don't know how you folks live."

Saki squinted at her. "Who?"

"Oh, uh… rich folks?" Yuuka remembered all at once to be embarrassed for the lack of decorum, fidgeting and laughing nervously until Saki let out a loud snort, followed by bright, hiccuping laughter.

Yuuka relaxed visibly, watching her laugh with a growing smile.

"You're the rudest waitstaff I've ever met."

"Sorry," Yuuka's cheeks were bright pink, around her grin.

"Don't be," Saki chuckled. "I haven't laughed in weeks."

"You have a nice laugh!"

"Flatterer. But you were right, this talk has been good."

"Opened your horizons to a whole new world of mundane business opportunities?"

Saki gave her a wry smirk, but her eyes were sincere as she said, "Maybe you did."

"Well, you can't say there's nothing out there for you to enjoy if you haven't tried everything."

"I guess that's… true."

"It is." Yuuka reached across the space between them and took Saki's hands in her own. "There's a whole world out there for you to experience. People to meet, places to see, things to make and do and eat and learn! You'll find something for you."

Saki stared at her in wonder. "How do you know?"

Yuuka slid her hands out of Saki's, leaving something behind. A colorful jeweled brooch—a flower.

"That belonged to someone I used to know. I want you to have it—to think of my flower shop whenever you find yourself running out of things to do. To remind yourself there's something out there just for you. That the world is better with you in it."

Saki cradled the brooch in her hands, wide-eyed. "…Thank you."

"It's a camellia—they bloom this time of year. They do a pretty amazing job at withstanding tough winters."

"… Miss Attendant—"

Yuuka glanced at her watch and suddenly jumped to her feet. "Oh shit— ah, sorry, I mean— I need to get going—they're gonna kill me—but you take care of yourself, okay, Hasumi-san?"

"Wait—!" Saki leaned halfway out into the aisle, waving an arm, but she was already gone, the door to the train car shutting with a soft whoosh.

Saki sat back up and let out a long breath. She still felt tired, but also like she'd just woken up from a too-long nap.

৹ ৹ ৹

Hadn't that lady in the black dress been crying quietly by herself just a minute ago?

Akari watched in fascination as the woman fell into yet another fit of laughter. The couple she was speaking to were grinning as well, shoving and teasing at each other and apparently delighted at the effect their antics were having on their new acquaintance.

"I'm telling you, don't listen to him; Mitsuki doesn't know the first thing about gemstones."

Akari's ears perked at the word. Maybe today was the day one of Hiroshi's leads finally worked in their favor.

"My own husband," her mark wailed, "betraying me like this!"

"His family's mines haven't produced gem-quality stone of any significance for at least a decade. He just fancies himself in the jewelery business because he prefers pretty things to the boring, practical ore that actually leaves those sites."

Shirane pouted. "If I only care for pretty things, what does that say about you, dearest?"

His husband patted his shoulder patiently, "I'm an attorney. I'm afraid I'm as boring and practical as it gets, though it's sweet that you also think I'm pretty."

The mystery woman laughed again like this was the funniest conversation she'd ever heard. "To be honest, I don't care if it's real ruby or just glass." She held up a little floral pin that must have been the source of conversation, examining it with a thoughtful look. "Maybe there's something to be said for pretty, impractical things, as long as they have sentimental value."

"Now that's an attitude I can agree with!" Shirane said, shaking his fist as if he'd just won some sort of argument. "I knew you were a woman of good taste, Hasumi-san."

"Don't misunderstand, I own plenty of pretty things I have no attachment to whatsoever. Especially now that… well."

The mood visibly shifted at the reminder of Hasumi's mourning, but Shirane's husband quickly recovered, clearing his throat to flippantly ask, "Anything especially sparkly and tacky that a certain wannabe gem dealer might like to take off your hands?"

Shirane flapped a hand at him in reproach while Hasumi gave the question surprisingly serious thought.

"There is that necklace with the big, gaudy blue stone on it."

"Gaudy, eh? How many carats?"

"I don't know, it's the size of a golf ball. Sort of pear-shaped?"

Akari froze in her halfhearted attempt to look busy, too stunned to bother hiding her eavesdropping anymore. It couldn't be the same jewel they'd been looking for. The one only spoken of in whispered rumors? The one lost at sea forty years ago?

"Ugly thing, in my opinion, but his uncle found it on a diving trip and gave it to him as a graduation gift, so it's been on a shelf in our sitting room ever since." She gave the men a conspiratorial look. "I never liked that uncle."

"Sadly not Mitsuki's style," the husband was back to laughing, "but you should show us the collection, some time, regardless."

The Shirane family had been Hiroshi's biggest lead for the stone's whereabouts, but that didn't mean they'd been a likely one. And now, by complete chance, Akari had found the owner of the stone itself? The coincidence was beyond belief. Or maybe the hand of fate had touched this encounter.

The three friends continued chatting as Akari was drawn toward them, pushing a cart of refreshments. At least the attendant gig she'd landed to get close to Shirane would give her an excuse to approach. But how would she even proceed from here? She had to know more about this Hasumi woman. It sounded like she didn't even know the value of what she had—maybe if Akari could just find a way to get close to her…

Hasumi swept her hair over her shoulder and Akari caught a glimpse of a pink, lotus-shaped soul mark.

৹ ৹ ৹

The apartment was small, but touches of personality popped out in every corner, visible even from the outside.

Colorfully painted planters, overflowing with greenery, lined nearly the entire width of the balcony. A cushy but well-worn deck chair was crammed in among them, next to a haphazard stack of what looked to be a combination of textbooks, travel magazines, and romance novels. A clothesline draped with patterned sheets hung crookedly across what little space remained, an obvious afterthought.

"She seems nice."

Kaito's head was on Shinichi's shoulder as they watched the building from the vacant unit across the street. The stakeout wasn't strictly necessary, but they'd wanted to make sure their delivery reached its intended recipient, and neither could deny also being a bit curious about her. About Hasumi Saki's real soulmate—Hanamoto Yuuka.

"What little I could find about her seemed to say as much," Shinichi agreed, resting his own cheek on Kaito's hair. He could still hardly believe how touchy-feely his soulmate had turned out to be, but he certainly wasn't complaining. "No criminal record, member of multiple volunteer groups and activity clubs. She's started taking classes again at the university, too."

Kaito elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "I was more talking about all the bright colors and cozy furniture, you robot."

Shinichi, careful not to jostle Kaito's still-recovering torso, poked him in the face instead. "We were both concerned about it; don't try to lie."

"As if a criminal record or lack thereof actually means anything."

Shinichi could sense the smirk without even seeing it. He rolled his eyes. "You're not a typical case."

"Maybe not, but I am still a wanted criminal, and you are still helping me unload valuable stolen goods onto an outside third party."

"If I didn't object to you lockpicking our way into this empty apartment, why would I be opposed to the jewel ending up in the hands of its rightful owner?"

"It's 'rightful owner'?" Kaito pushed himself upright and took Shinichi's face in his hand, absolutely beaming. "Somehow, after all this time, I still find myself underestimating your willingness to bend the law."

"…Only when justice calls for it." Shinichi was blushing furiously.

Kaito's eyes only seemed to sparkle even more in the sunlight filtering through the curtainless window.

Shinichi cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. His hand automatically moved to scratch at his neck, right over the sapphire-blue rose with its newly crimson highlights. The secondary color gave the flower the effect of being in a warmly-lit room, casting purple-red shadows between the petals that made Shinichi think of late nights spent reading detective novels by lamplight in his father's library. It was a familiar, comforting sort of lighting, even framing something so strange as the rose and its impossible hue.

Kuroba Kaito.

"Kaito…" he started, unsure what he was going to say or how but still getting a little frisson of excitement at being able to say the name out loud—

"Wait, is that her? Hanamoto-san?"

Shinichi snapped back to reality, following Kaito's eager pointing to see that the subject of their current mission was indeed moving around inside her apartment.

"Looks like it. What's she doing?"

Kaito retrieved a pair of sleek, unnecessarily high-tech-looking binoculars—completely at odds with his soft, casual cardigan and jeans and Shinichi couldn't believe he was allowed to see KID looking so comfortable and at ease…!—and leaned forward to take a closer look.

"Nothing much," he reported, "just putting her things down and settling in, looks like she might not check it right away." Shinichi started to relax back into their former slouch, but Kaito grabbed suddenly at his shoulder, shaking him in excitement. "No, wait! She's opening the mail!"

Shinichi swiped the binoculars to see for himself, ignoring Kaito's mock-offense as he watched the confusion bloom on Hanamoto's face while the pendant tumbled out of the envelope and into her palm. She examined it for a few seconds, mystified, before digging out the accompanying card to read.

They'd composed the message together, though it was signed like one of Kaitou KID's usual notices. It explained what they knew, or at least strongly suspected—that her soulmate had been a brave, unfortunate woman named Hasumi Saki, who would have wanted her to have the jewel to do with as she pleased.

It was no large leap, considering Hasumi's relative isolation for most of her life, her lack of any immediate family or dependents. Besides, her two closest friends had been the ones to suggest it.

(Shinichi had been in touch with the Shiranes a few times since the murder. In part, to use what they knew to help find Hasumi's missing soulmate, but also to ensure that they were capable of keeping quiet about exactly who Kudou Shinichi's soulmate was. Thankfully, Shirane Kousuke was a reasonable man, his husband was easy to flatter, and both of them were extremely grateful for Shinichi's help in solving the case.)

And it was important that this jewel in particular found its way home, because unknown to all, including Hasumi herself, the jewel was a treasure so unique, so singular, as to be nearly priceless.

What appeared to be a common aquamarine had, all along, been an extraordinarily rare form of blue garnet.

Kaito had showed Shinichi, after things had finally calmed down. The way the stone changed color just slightly under different lighting conditions. The refractive index that didn't quite match. The faint red fluoresence it gave off under certain wavelengths of light. It was undoubtedly a garnet. But that meant it was a specimen of an exceedingly rare variety—one that was so large as to defy belief.

And yet, there it was.

A half-coherent rumor on a defunct treasure hunting forum was the only trace they'd been able to find of the stone's origin. It seemed it was something of a mythical artifact, a long-lost jewel that may or may not have been tied to various criminal enterprises but had definitely not been seen or evaluated by any official sources before it vanished altogether.

That it had remained undiscovered and then unexamined for so many years was merely a matter of luck. Whether good or bad might depend on one's perspective.

But at least they could guess the would-be thieves' motive, now. Nothing was worth killing over, Shinichi firmly believed, but the amount of money that such a one-of-a-kind gemstone might attract would be enough to make even reasonable people into desperate, shortsighted fools.

Katou and Shitomi had let themselves get drawn in by the siren call of untold wealth. They'd panicked when their plans were—by coincidence, by fate—interrupted, and they weren't the only ones who'd paid the price.

Hanamoto Yuuka was on her feet now, hand over her mouth in horror as she absorbed the message.

"Did we do the right thing, telling her what happened?" Kaito had slumped against him again.

"She deserves to know. That was her soulmate."

Kaito looked uncomfortably down at his own hands, picking at his fingernails. "I don't know if… if I'd want to know."

Shinichi put the binoculars down. "Wait, really?"

Kaito was quiet.

Shinichi's fingers twitched as he hesitated, but he quickly gave in to the impulse, snaking an arm around Kaito's waist to pull him into a gentle, sideways embrace.

"…I'm not… good at losing people," Kaito eventually confessed, his own arms finding their way around Shinichi's midsection. "I used to think I didn't care if my soulmate was going to end up as yet another pointless tragedy in my life. I'd already written that off as inevitable, and I told myself I was prepared for it."

"Kaito…"

"But that was a lie. I didn't realize how much I needed this. Needed you, Shinichi. The thought of having lost you before we got the chance to have this, together…"

Shinichi pressed his nose into his soulmate's hair again. "I'm right here."

Kaito made a noise that sounded a lot like sniffling, holding him tighter. "I know. Thanks for that."

"… You know, I've always wanted to meet my soulmate."

Kaito stilled.

"I kept getting fixated on the thought of it being—well, of it working out a certain way. And a lot of the time it felt like I was stupid for having so much hope wrapped up in the idea. And then… Conan made everything so much more complicated and confusing. But now?" He shifted their position, forcing Kaito sit up enough to meet his eyes. "It feels like the most obvious thing in the world, and I know it'd be stupid not to want this. I'm so glad you're here. I'm glad we found each other."

Kaito laughed wetly. His eyes were dry, but it was obvious he was choked up from the weight of everything that was happening. "But what if one of us gets killed doing something stupid? We both have a lot of enemies, don't we?"

"Then we just have to make the most of the time we do have."

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Kaito wide-eyed, on the precipice of tears, but with a burning hope beginning to light him from the inside. Shinichi holding him firmly, determined and sure, but with a growing embarrassment shading his cheeks a delicate pink.

And then Kaito was kissing him.

There was a hand cradling the back of Shinichi's head, and his own hands were on Kaito's shoulders, his neck. He let himself be lowered so that his back was against the dusty floor, too transfixed by the sensation of his soulmate's mouth on his own to care about anything else.

But, Kaito's breath hitched painfully as his wound made its presence known. Shinichi broke away with a gasp, the spell broken, but didn't release his desperate grip on the fabric covering Kaito's shoulders.

Kaito, more gingerly this time, moved closer, pressing their temples together as they both tried to catch their heaving breaths.

"Sorry," Shinichi breathed into his ear, unsure what exactly he was apologizing for.

Kaito let out a breathy chuckle that caused Shinichi's entire body shiver. "We have to make time."

"What?"

"If there's a chance our time together is limited, I want us both to agree right now that we're going to stretch that out as long as we can."

Shinichi pulled away just enough to turn his head. They were nose-to-nose like this. "That means keeping yourself safe, too. No unnecessary risks."

Kaito's brow scrunched up endearingly. "Despite what happened at my last heist, I think you tend to face more murderous maniacs than I do."

"And yet this isn't the first time you've been shot, is it, Kaito?"

Kaito pressed their lips together roughly, just long enough to make Shinichi dizzy, then hissed into his ear, "Shut up."

Shinichi laughed in earnest, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Kaito let him up, a long-suffering look on his face, and Shinichi pulled himself together enough to press another peck to the corner of Kaito's mouth. "And to think I was afraid you wouldn't be interested in this sort of thing."

"What, kissing?"

"…Yes?"

"Wait, what do you mean 'afraid'?"

Shinichi refused to answer, instead flicking him on the forehead and sitting back up to retrieve the binoculars.

Hanamoto was pacing her living room now, garnet pendant in one hand and phone in the other as she frantically gestured to the open air. Whoever was on the other end of the line must be giving their opinion on what to do.

"Does it seem like she's going to go for it?" Kaito, grumbling, hooked his chin over Shinichi's shoulder.

Clingy, Shinichi's mind supplied, and he couldn't suppress a smile. "Hard to say at this point what she'll do. The main thing was getting the garnet to her and then letting her work out where to go from there."

Kaito hummed. "You think they'll really offer her a reward for turning it in? I thought all records of the thing's existence had been lost or destroyed."

Shinichi made a noncommital noise that had Kaito staring at him with instant suspicion.

"Wait. You know something, don't you? I thought we were leaving this in fate's hands, but there's something you're not telling me."

"… I may have snuck a look at Hasumi-san's will."

After a beat, Kaito slapped him heartily on the back, causing him to nearly drop the binoculars. "Now that's what I'm talking about! I'll make an honest criminal out of you, yet, Shinichi!"

"It wasn't— whatever," Shinichi chuckled. "The point is, she left a few specific items and assets for designated recipients. Everything else? Goes to her soulmate."

Kaito narrowed his eyes, taking in the words. "No, you're joking. That can't be right. Not even by name?"

"The papers just say 'to her soulmate'. Not one mention of Shitomi Akari."

"But that's—" Kaito laughed, joy winning out over skepticism. "That's definitely not how it's normally done. What are the chances?"

"I wonder…"

"Hm?"

"Do you think Hasumi-san knew, on some level, that her real soulmate was still out there?"

Kaito angled himself to look again at Hanamoto, now feverishly researching something on her phone, but with an incredulous smile lighting up her features. She kept lifting her arm to glance at the reddish-pink flower on her bicep. A camellia. "I guess we'll never really know."

They sat like that for a while longer, absorbing the moment. It was obvious that the excitement of their little stakeout had begun to cede ground to the strength of the painkillers Kaito was still taking, as he began to droop more and more. Eventually Shinichi shook him back awake, helping him to his feet so they could get on with erasing all signs of their presence and locking the place up.

In a way, it felt like closure. The case was finally behind them. The final loose ends had been tied up.

But Shinichi could sense, somewhere deep inside his soul, that something else was only just beginning.

৹ ৹ ৹

Years later, the flowers for the Kuroba-Kudou wedding would be sourced from a little independent shop called The Pink Lotus.

End