Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaitou
Theme: #17—black wings; wings
Pairing: Kuroba Kaito/Nakamori Aoko
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Gosho Aoyama. I do not own them. I merely borrow them, drop them in a blender, hit puree, and watch them dance. Yes, dance, my pretties…ahem.
Summary: Fallen angels have black wings. Did you know that?
It was like looking at a stranger, he thought as he watched the nervous figure on the other side of the prison bars. It would have been amusing if the situation wasn’t so serious. She would take a step towards him and open her mouth as though to say something, then apparently decide against it and move back against the opposing wall.
Finally, enough was enough. He rose and walked across his cell—it took merely a few steps to cross the entire breadth of the tiny block—and reached out with one hand, wrapping his fingers around the bars there. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, gesturing towards the tiny room behind him.
That seemed to decide her, and she finally walked right up to the cell door. “You’re lucky you’re on the other side of the bars,” Aoko glowered. “Or else I’d be able to kill you.”
“I guess that works out well for both of us,” he nodded. “What can I do for you?”
Aoko hesitated before blurting out, “I hate you.”
Kaito stared at her for a moment, then smiled and shook his head slowly. “No, you don’t,” he said, his tone oddly gentle. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here at all. You’re angry, and our friendship is probably over, but I don’t believe that you really hate me.”
“You’re a horrible person.” She seemed genuinely at a loss for what to say to him, and so resorted to the most base of insults so as not to be standing there gaping like an idiot. It was rather odd, considering that she had come here to see him of her own free will, for a reason she had not yet disclosed. “You think you know so much about me?”
“Actually, I know more about you than you think. And you certainly know a lot about me, Aoko, but let me tell you something about myself that I don’t think you know. Before he died, my father taught me something called Poker Face,” Kaito said, leaning his forearms on the bars and resting his weight against them as he relayed his father’s immortal creed. “No matter the cards you hold, be they good or bad, never let anyone know. Have complete control over yourself, your emotions, and let no one see anything you don’t want them to. That is Poker Face.”
“I don’t think you have emotions,” Aoko snapped. “You’re heartless.”
His strange half-smile never faltered. “Perhaps. But would you like to know something else that’s funny? My name. Kuroba. Black feather,” he actually chuckled at that point, as if the idea was really that amusing to him. “Isn’t it just incredibly ironic?”
“How is that ironic?”
“Because,” he held her gaze squarely, “fallen angels have black wings. Did you know that? They do.” He nodded slightly to emphasize his point, still smirking. “Fallen angels have black wings, Aoko. And they were never meant to cry.”
“Fallen angel?” she snorted. “Is that what you are?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he held out his arms in a wide gesture towards the jail around them.
“You’re in prison,” she pointed out. “How low the mighty have fallen.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer to speak face to face?” he said. There was a soft clank as he effortlessly opened the cell door—which by all accounts should have been locked, but he had never really been one for rules—and stepped past them, closing the door neatly behind him.
Aoko gasped and jumped back; her mouth dropped open to scream. But before she could make a sound, a hand clapped over her mouth and stifled the sound to more of a squeak. How in the world had Kaito moved that fast, anyway? But here he was, silencing her and pinning her firmly against the wall, both physically and with that all-knowing gaze of his.
Even now, she couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were still so blue.
“Did you really think I would hurt you?” he said, probably more bitterly than he’d intended. He released her and stepped back, shaking his head. “I’d like to think that you’d at least give me that much credit, Aoko.” Kaito turned and opened the prison door, escorting himself right back into his cell. It was ridiculous, really, how easy these things were to get in and out of.
Still slumped against the wall, she let out a shuddering breath and kept her eyes on the floor. She had to stay steady, in spite of his remarkable ability to rip through her defenses, tear her supports away from her, and leave her teetering so far off-balance that it was a wonder she still had any sort of handle left on anything at all. Even now, at their darkest hour, he could still do that to her.
And now, it was like he was trying to drive her away. She’d never seen this side of him before. He had been distant before, but there had always been smiles and jokes and laughter. Now there was this cold, almost bitter person. That mask—he had called it Poker Face—was clamped down, locking even her out.
Finally, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I don’t know you,” she said, appalled that it came out as a choked sob. “I don’t know you at all…” The wall was really the only thing supporting her right then.
There was a long pause after that, and then Kaito spoke. “Why did you come here, Aoko?” he asked softly. For the first time since this awful encounter began, it was his turn to sound uncertain. Truth be told, he really hadn’t expected to see her again, save perhaps for at his trial; he figured his arrest two nights before had left their friendship in irreparable tatters.
Aoko shook her head and looked up at him; somehow, he knew it was for the last time. Her eyes were shimmering with angry tears that she refused to shed. Stubborn to a fault, right up to the very last. “Goodbye, Kaito.” She turned and walked slowly from the prison block. And she didn’t look back.
It was for the best, he reflected. Cut the ties now, and just end it. Then he could disappear—as he’d just demonstrated to Aoko, the police were truly fools if they thought this place could hold him any longer than he consented to be held. Yes, it would hurt her, but…he hoped that doing it that way would help her move past it faster. It was definitely for the best.
Still standing at the door, leaning against the bars and thinking, a strange thing happened to Kaito. As he watched Aoko leave, he felt something on his face. Raising one hand to brush at it, he quickly realized what it was, and immediately wiped it away, eradicating any trace of its existence.
After all, fallen angels were never meant to cry.
PS. This all came about because I was lying in bed one night, and that line popped into my head: “Fallen angels have black wings. And they were never meant to cry.” The rest of the story grew from there. The plunnies for this challenge are biting like mad! WHEE! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this latest edition, written while I was hanging out at ICDA. Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!
Also, all buildings should be required by law to have air conditioning x.x