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Shinichi rests his forearms on the railing. Despite his jacket, he can feel the biting cold of the metal against his skin — but the view is worth it. Tonight, the streets of Shinjuku glow in every imaginable color: glaring white from the lamps, loud and vibrant from the countless billboards, and blue from the police sirens.
Kaitou KID leads Nakamori and his little alliance through the streets as if they were playing a game, but by KID’s rules.
With a faint smirk, Shinichi watches the spectacle from afar. He already had his brief clash with the thief before the chase broke out and KID had to disappear.
He shakes his head. Right now, Nakamori is wasting fuel like crazy down there, because the real KID has long since vanished — and the thing in the sky is only a dummy.
Breathing out quietly, Shinichi takes one last look at the skyline before turning around, already half expecting to run into the real KID.
Instead, he finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Shinichi flinches. His body tenses. The man in front of him is dressed completely in black, like Vermouth and Gin, but his face is unfamiliar. Another errand boy from the Organization who had been overlooked? Someone who wants to avenge his fallen comrades?
During KID’s heist, he never would have expected to run into one of them. His equipment is at home. Shinichi doesn't even have Conan’s old glasses with him.
He swallows. With his brows drawn low, he considers what options are open to him. Behind him, there is only a drop into the depths — and he is not Kaitou KID, with a glider hidden in his jacket pocket. The man blocks the only exit from the roof.
“You’re that famous detective, Japan’s wonder boy, Kudou Shinichi.”
Since it does not sound like a question, Shinichi doesn't answer. He can feel his hands beginning to sweat. It's getting harder to keep breathing steadily.
The man takes the safety off his gun. “If you’re smart, you’ll behave and come with us.”
Us?
As if they had been waiting for some secret cue, a group emerges from the shadows. Shinichi’s heart stops for a moment when he realizes that every one of the men is armed. They all are dressed in black.
Maybe he should feel honored that someone is going to such great lengths for him. Right now, though, he feels only a quiet premonition: that this evening will not end well for him.
To buy himself a little more time, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and hides his trembling hands in his pants pockets. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
The apparent leader of the group, a man with a mustache, smiles coldly and condescendingly. “A friend of the esteemed moonlight thief, Kaitou KID.”
“Ah,” Shinichi says only, clenching his hands into fists. His jaw twitches as his body grows even tenser. “And what do I have to do with KID?”
A small, naive voice inside him whispers that every second gained increases the chance that KID will come back and somehow save him like magic.
Even though that is absolute wishful thinking.
Without holstering his gun, the boss gives a signal, and two men peel away from the group and head toward him. Unconsciously, Shinichi plants his feet a little wider.
“We shouldn’t continue this conversation here, Detective.” The man says the last word with so much contempt that Shinichi has to swallow.
The first henchman reaches him from the right. Instead of grabbing him, as Shinichi had expected, he drives his fist straight into Shinichi’s stomach. All the air leaves Shinichi’s lungs at once. He doubles over, eyes wide. His hands jerk out reflexively, clutching his stomach as he gasps for air. Both men grab him and wrench his arms away. Without thinking, he tries to fight back, even though tears are already springing to his eyes.
A muffled crack rings out over the rooftops. An empty shell casing falls to the ground, where it comes to rest after several impacts and is left ignored.
For a moment, Shinichi thinks the shot missed him.
Then he screams. His legs give out and he buckles to the side. Only because the henchmen are holding him tightly does he not hit the ground. His thigh, where the bullet grazed him, throbs in time with his far too rapid heartbeat. His jeans turn dark with blood almost instantly while Shinichi tries to suppress any further sounds by biting down on his tongue.
The man in front of him chambers another round. “I told you, ‘nice and obedient.’ You detectives can only listen to yourselves, huh?” His mocking laughter echoes in Shinichi’s head.
Desperately, he searches for a way out, any option at all, until one of the henchmen knocks him unconscious with a blow to the temple.
⌛︎
Only slowly does the quiet darkness release him, and Shinichi returns to the present. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and there is a bitter taste in it. His head throbs, as does the wound on his thigh — that is the first thing he becomes aware of again. He exhales with a hiss, squeezes his eyes shut, then pauses and listens into the silence.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Hesitantly, Shinichi opens his eyes. He has to blink several times before his vision clears. A small lightbulb on the ceiling provides just enough illumination. He props himself up on one arm and slowly sits up until his thigh flares again with a stabbing pain that pulls all the way up his spine. Shinichi cannot suppress a soft gasp. His muscles seize up. Grimacing, he looks down in the weak light at his leg and the jeans now stained dark. The fabric has already stiffened from the dried blood and clings unpleasantly to his skin. Carefully, he brings his fingers closer and feels that the skin around the wound is hotter than it should be.
Of course those guys had not disinfected it. Why would they? Whether they were keeping him as a hostage or a prisoner — injured, he could not escape.
Shinichi forces himself to exhale slowly and deliberately through his mouth. Despite the pain, he sits up straighter to take a closer look at his surroundings. He seems to be lying on a cot, maybe even a field bed. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the pale light and make out the room. The cot seems to be the only piece of furniture in it. Directly across from him is a door, and high up in the right corner is something that looks like a ventilation system. No windows. No food or drink. Nothing.
He feels sick.
Even though he should know better, he slowly lets his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. His hands grip tightly as he takes one deep breath before trying to stand up—
and immediately drops back again. The pain explodes the instant he puts weight on his right leg.
“Fuck...!” he curses softly and presses his lips together until the wave of pain slowly subsides again. He runs a hand over his clammy face. Since it is impossible for him to walk, there is probably nothing else left for him to do but wait.
For what exactly, he doesn't know.
⌛︎
The man who shot him makes him wait a long time.
In the meantime, Shinichi had lain back down again, his left leg slightly drawn up while he tried to move his right leg as little as possible. Even so, he can feel his pulse and the heat radiating from it. His mouth is completely dry, and his stomach twists with hunger. For a while, he manages to doze, which is probably more due to exhaustion than calm.
Then suddenly the door slams against the wall.
Shinichi jerks upright, eyes wide, his gaze snapping to the door.
This time, the man has another two of his henchmen with him, who grab Shinichi without a word and drag him off the bed. The moment he tries to support his own weight, he exhales through clenched teeth. One of the men grabs him by the hair at the nape of his neck, forcing him to hold his head up and look at the boss. Even now, they are all dressed completely in black.
No one says a word to him as they drag him out of his room and into a side room, where they force him down onto a cheap wooden chair. Those few steps were enough to make his whole body shake and set his wound bleeding again. The warm liquid runs down his leg and pools in his shoe.
One of the henchmen remains standing behind him, gripping his shoulders tightly. The other plants himself in front of the door, feet apart. The third man, the leader, remains standing close in front of him and grabs his jaw. Shinichi is sure it will leave marks.
“You can call me Snake,” he says, a dark undertone in his voice. Even now, he is still wearing his hat. His eyes gleam faintly madly in the shadows. “And you, Shinichi — I may call you Shinichi, yes? — you are going to tell me everything you know about KID.”
Shinichi tries to wrench himself out of Snake’s grip, jerking his head back — only for the henchman behind him to hold it fast so that Shinichi cannot get away from Snake. Shinichi’s mouth twists in disgust.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The second the henchman lets go of his head, Snake draws back for a punch. The fist catches him off guard at the temple, and his head flies to the side. For a moment, everything in Shinichi’s vision blurs.
The henchman grabs his hair again, yanking his head back so Shinichi is forced to look up at Snake.
“Detectives like rules, don’t they?” Snake braces one hand on his shoulder and bends down slightly toward him. “Rule number one: no lies.”
Shinichi stares into Snake’s dark eyes, leaning back as far as possible. He grits his teeth while his brain works.
Who would notice that he was gone? Haibara? Ran? Maybe even Megure? Or would they assume he had gotten himself tangled up in yet another case and gone to ground? Shinichi swallows. His heart stops for a moment before resuming at twice the speed. He isn't exactly known for checking in regularly. Even Megure would not worry right away. And Haibara? How many days would pass before she noticed? Just a few? A week? Maybe Ran would wonder. Maybe Haibara would grow suspicious. But until then … until then, he is at Snake’s mercy.
Shinichi wets his dry lips. “No lies,” he repeats, because he can't think of anything better to say.
“Good boy.” Snake’s grip tightens briefly, his fingers digging into the joint before he pulls back. “So, spit it out.”
Shinichi suppresses the urge to roll his shoulders and ease the tension there. “KID is a thief.”
One can tell Snake is fighting for his patience, because his face twists and his hands curl into fists. Internally, Shinichi is already bracing for the next punch.
“Don’t play smart with me, I know that myself. I want useful information — his name.”
Shinichi almost laughs. “Kaitou KID?”
Surprisingly, no blow follows. Snake runs his tongue over his teeth, stretches out his arm, and grabs his throat without squeezing. Shinichi holds his breath. “His. Name.”
“No idea,” Shinichi presses out carefully.
Snake still does not squeeze. Instead, he places his hand directly on Shinichi’s wound — and squeezes hard. Pain shoots through his leg. Shinichi clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches.
Shinichi tries to pull away, but Snake holds him in place and comes closer until they are nose to nose.
“Shinichi, Shinichi, Shinichi,” Snake coos, blurring in front of his eyes. “Haven’t you learned yet that courage is just another word for foolishness?”
All at once, Snake lets go and shoves him backward, chair and all, so that Shinichi’s head slams hard against the floor and he sees stars.
Dazed, he hears the door open and close. Then the two henchmen grab him by the arms and drag him back into his room, where they leave him lying on the floor. Behind him, the door slams shut. At some point, Shinichi slowly rolls over bit by bit. The pain is everywhere now, burned into his nerves. His breathing comes in bursts until at last he remains lying on his back.
The small lamp above him is no longer on.
⌛︎
The next time Shinichi comes to, a small water bottle is standing beside him. At first, he thinks he is still dreaming, but when he reaches for the bottle and it feels real, Shinichi slowly sits up. He hurriedly unscrews the cap and begins drinking in large gulps. The fresh water is sheer relief for his parched throat, and he drinks until it occurs to him that it would be smarter to save at least a little. It is unbelievably hard for him to set the bottle down again.
He leaves less than half.
After his thirst has been eased a little, he notices a thin strip of light visible beneath the door, the only light source there is at the moment. Carefully, Shinichi straightens up. He tests his leg and realizes the pain has lessened somewhat. His head is no longer pounding as badly either. Unconsciously, he rubs the temple Snake struck earlier.
Something in him tells him to test the door handle.
Shinichi stretches out his arm. The handle is metal and reminds him a little of the railing on the roof, just before Snake grabbed him. His eyes widen and he freezes. The handle presses down without any trouble, and the door opens.
Is this a test? he wonders, opening the door only far enough at first to peek his head into the hallway.
No one in sight. Or in earshot.
Shinichi opens the door all the way and closes it behind him almost without a sound. Cheap fluorescent tubes hang from the ceiling, giving off a warm, yellowish light. The floor beneath his feet seems to be linoleum, and the walls are painted a practical white. The corridor reminds him a little of a hospital, except that all the many doors and room numbers are missing.
In fact, apart from Shinichi’s door, there seem to be no others. He seems to remember the men dragging him to the left before Spider “interrogated” him, so Shinichi decides to take the right side of the corridor.
His heart is pounding in his throat as he creeps down the hall, straining to catch even the slightest sound.
Nothing.
No clicking, no murmuring, not even a rat skittering in the walls. There is a deathly silence in the hallway that sends a shiver down his spine. The corridor seems to grow longer the farther he goes. That could be because of the blood loss, or maybe lingering effects from Snake’s blow. Impatient, he quickens his pace a little until, after what feels like an eternity, he reaches the end and once again has to choose between left and right.
To the right, another endless corridor, with all the doors he had expected in his own hallway.
To the left, a sign indicating an emergency exit.
Shinichi holds his breath and runs toward the door the sign points to despite his injury. He yanks it open and steps forward at the same time—
only to find himself in absolute darkness.
Shinichi turns to go back, back into the hallway—
but the door, along with the handle that had been in his hand just a moment ago, is gone.
Laughter sounds in the distance. At first, he thinks it's KID, until it grows louder and he realizes it's unfamiliar. Panic tightens around his throat. Shinichi spins around several times, searching for a light, a sign, anything.
Three red dots appear in front of him.
At first, Shinichi thinks they are lights.
Then they blink.
“Rule number four, Detective,” a male voice says to him out of nowhere. It echoes strangely inside his head, like a reverberation. “When you speak to me, you look at me.”
What— flashes through his mind.
The darkness vanishes in an instant. The sudden light burns his eyes, far too bright. Shinichi jerks his arm up — or would like to, but his wrist seems to be tied down. Through narrowed eyes, he sees the hazy outline of a man — and the source of the three red lights.
Eyes. They are three red eyes glowing back at him.
As soon as the light no longer blinds him, Shinichi studies the man, who is also dressed in black and wearing a mask besides. Only the lower half of his face is visible, and lips that curl into a grin that means nothing good.
Shinichi swallows.
The man inclines his head as though bowing. A silent mockery directed only at Shinichi. Step by step, the man approaches him. Unlike with Snake, Shinichi immediately feels a deep fear, something almost primal.
“They call me Spider,” he says in a calm, almost pleasant tone. Slowly, he lifts his hands and reaches them out toward Shinichi. Spider moves and speaks as though he has all the time in the world. Now he smiles. “And I’m going to play a little with your pretty head.”
Spider places both hands on his cheeks and tilts his face slightly upward. Even if he were not holding Shinichi’s head, Shinichi would not be able to tear himself away from the sight of those red eyes.
⌛︎
Shinichi’s scream echoes all along the corridor.
⌛︎
He doesn't know whether he is in his room or still in that other room, tied to the chair. Shinichi is not even sure whether he is lying on his camp bed — or still sitting there. The pounding in his leg and head has long since returned. His whole body is trembling, and his throat feels raw, swallowing is painful and difficult. Again and again, the same question.
What do you know about KID?
At first, he had said nothing at all. What could he have answered to that? Shinichi didn't know much more than the police. Kaitou KID was a thief who first became active nearly twenty years ago, then vanished for eight years and suddenly reappeared. His modus operandi had always remained the same: mainly valuable gemstones, with individual exceptions that were always motivated.
Shinichi is fairly sure the “current” KID is not the same one from back then and must be around his age. That certainty he can keep to himself.
For now.
Both Spider and Snake want KID’s true name — and seem convinced he has already figured it out and is simply keeping it to himself. For whatever reason he would do that. Shinichi doesn't know Kaitou KID’s true identity. If he really did know him, maybe everything would be easier. But like this? How was he supposed to prove that he truly did not know?
Would Spider and Snake kill him the moment they understood the truth?
Maybe it would be better if he gave them exactly what they wanted to see. A detective guarding a secret. Because as long as Snake believes he is protecting the name, Shinichi has at least one reason to stay silent. And to stay alive.
He is not sure how deeply Spider can really get into his head. Or how he managed to create that illusion? Hallucination? and make it feel so real that Shinichi truly believed he was drinking from a water bottle. Even though the situation isn't funny at all, Shinichi still has to smirk. Maybe KID would have done exactly the same. Though the thief probably would have had at least one trick up his sleeve to free himself.
Sighing, he closes his eyes. Hopefully Spider and Snake will take their time before the next round.
⌛︎
It is one of those rare weekends when Kaito plans two heists back to back. And on the evening of the second, he remembers why he had actually decided not to do that anymore.
Secretly, he had hoped Nakamori would still be drained from yesterday, if not outright exhausted. But there is no sign of that. With an energy Kaito barely recognizes in him, the inspector sets one trap after another and chases after him. In full KID attire, Kaito runs through the museum corridors, his cape rustling behind him. If it were not Nakamori behind him, the whole thing might at least be fun, but as it is, he is just glad that he will reach the roof soon and be able to say goodbye to the inspector for the time being.
Kaito rounds the next corner, sets off a smoke bomb, and vanishes, concealed by the haze, into a side closet.
That is one of the many advantages of a photographic memory: Kaito only has to glance at the blueprints briefly to be able to recall them instantly in an emergency.
Pressed against the door, he listens as Nakamori (cursing loudly) and his men (cursing less loudly) run past. Only when silence returns can he breathe out in relief. This once, he takes the time to change his disguise, making KID’s white suit disappear so that he emerges into the hallway in a police uniform. One can tell immediately when Nakamori is working without detective support — even if he is unusually well prepared today.
Where is Shinichi, if not here? Maybe Megure had claimed him for himself. After all, the young detective was pretty popular within the police.
Kaito slips into a light jog so as not to look too relaxed while he heads up the broad staircase with its carpet from the last century toward the roof.
And notices that he is already being expected.
With a soft click, the door falls shut behind Kaito. The crescent moon is hiding behind the clouds, but it is still bright enough for Kaito to make out the black-clad figure in front of him — and to twist his face behind his poker face. Kaito reaches for the brim of his police cap and pulls it lower over his face.
“Good evening, Snake.” With his hands in his trouser pockets, Kaito plants his feet a little wider, chin proudly raised and his usual grin on his face. “I had hoped to be spared your presence tonight.”
Snake gives a dry laugh. It surprises Kaito that he has shown up alone today instead of, as usual, with his pack.
“I couldn’t do without your stupid face,” Snake mocks.
Kaito gives a slight bow. Internally, he rolls his eyes. “If that’s all—”
“I was asked to pass along regards.” Snake tilts his head and seems to study him closely. “From your favorite detective.”
All at once, everything inside Kaito tightens. He owes it to pure instinct that his grin does not disappear. He swallows before replying as neutrally as possible, “How kind of you, playing mailman now too.”
Inside his head, there is absolute chaos.
Does Snake really have Shinichi — or is it just a bluff to throw him off balance?
If he really does have Shinichi … why? And above all: where?
“Pah, it won’t be much longer before we crack him. You’d better start saying your goodbyes to him now, Kaitou KID.”
Kaito grinds his teeth. His answer is a long time coming, and Snake takes note of that with a grin. Snake taps the brim of his hat and makes as if to leave.
That evening, Snake makes two mistakes: he boasts about having Shinichi in his hands.
And he turns his back on Kaito.
Kaito takes a step forward, out of the shadows.
⌛︎
Shinichi had always thought there was no more disgusting person than Gin.
Until Spider settled inside his head.
He is in his head, controlling his thoughts, without giving him any chance to recover from Snake’s “methods.” Shinichi no longer even knows whether Snake’s punches and kicks happen only in his dreams — or are real.
At the moment, Spider is merciful, letting him feel no pain. Only fear and despair. In his arms, he is holding Ran (or maybe not? Is he really holding her? Where is he at all?), who clings to him and looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes.
“Why won’t you tell them?” she whispers weakly. Her blood sticks to his hands.
Shinichi presses her cheek against his chest and shakes his head, not even knowing what exactly she means.
“Why won’t you give them his name?”
I don’t know it!
Ran’s tears drip to the floor. “It’s your fault, Shinichi.” A gasp makes her body shudder. “Your fault. You could have saved me.”
“Ran—” Shinichi’s voice fails him. Her body slips through his hands. “Ran!”
Spider leaves him behind in nothingness. He feels only the guilt on his shoulders, even though he is telling the truth. Shinichi lets himself fall forward, bracing his hands against the darkness. With every heartbeat, the pain in his body returns, and with it the memories of his injuries.
His leg throbs. Breathing has become harder ever since Snake kicked him in the ribs. He doesn't even want to know what his face looks like — probably blue and purple from all the blows.
A splash of cold water jerks him back.
Shinichi gasps for air and flinches as his ribs burn. His breathing turns frantic. The reality slowly filtering back to him does not make things any better. Standing before him are both Snake and Spider. Beside them, one of the henchmen, now holding an empty bucket.
Exhausted, Shinichi lets his head sag forward and closes his eyes.
“Well now, who’s ready to give up already?” Spider runs a hand through his hair before grabbing it and pulling Shinichi’s head back. As he always does.
Shinichi squeezes his eyes shut, unwilling to look into that red glow.
“Detective,” Spider says, almost threateningly. “Remember my rule.”
Only reluctantly does Shinichi open his eyes. His heart is beating far too fast, almost out of rhythm.
“Excellent, Detective.” Spider bends down toward him until he fills Shinichi’s entire field of vision. “How beautiful it is inside your head. So much responsibility. So much guilt. And somewhere,” he taps Shinichi’s forehead with his index finger, “somewhere in there, you have buried KID’s secret.”
Shinichi almost says, I don’t know anything!, but bites his tongue just in time.
Spider lets go of him with a laugh. “You still have a spark of will left in you, good. Anything else would be boring.”
In the background, he sees Snake rolling his eyes. “Not much longer, if you’d let me do my work.”
Spider straightens up, a disapproving twitch at his lips. “I break his will. You just break his bones.”
“You’re just dragging it out unnecessarily,” Snake growls, but restrains himself.
Shinichi looks between the two of them. Could he use this apparent antipathy they have for each other to his advantage? If his thoughts didn’t feel like they were moving through cotton, he might be able to come up with a plan. But like this? Shinichi is just glad he can even follow the conversation.
He exhales sharply, closes his eyes, and smiles despite the numbness in his face. “At least one of you seems to be using his brain.”
For a moment, nothing happens. Expectantly, Shinichi clenches his fists.
“Excuse me?” he hears Snake ask, his voice trembling with anger. Before Spider can even think about intervening, Snake slams him down so that he falls sideways with the chair.
The impact leaves him dazed. He thinks he feels something warm at his temple and has to suppress a self-satisfied grin.
“You little—” Snake starts and stomps on him.
Shinichi forces himself to hold back any cry of pain and bites his lip. Ribs crack. His entire body burns. There's blood in his mouth.
“You idiot!” Spider seems to understand Shinichi’s tactic. A mind that doesn’t exist cannot be broken.
The kicks stop, and Shinichi slips into unconsciousness, one even Spider cannot follow.
⌛︎
It's late afternoon, the day after his last heist. For a Sunday, it is surprisingly busy — though it is the police headquarters, after all. Kaito can hardly imagine there is ever any kind of peace here. With tense shoulders, he tries to stroll as casually as possible through the corridors. He knows exactly where he is going, having walked the path many times with Aoko.
Down the corridor, to the Kaitou KID special unit, guided by her father Nakamori.
Kaito shuts out everything around him. He no longer even knows whom he is impersonating, whose face he is wearing — the most important thing is not to be stopped by anyone. He doesn’t even need to act, his expression is grim enough that people give him a wide berth.
From afar, he can already see Nakamori’s office door, wide open. A young man hurries out of the room, his expression frantic and pale. His colleague follows him, looking no less stressed.
Kaito quickens his steps, steps inside, and closes the door silently behind him. Nakamori stands with his back to him, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on a whiteboard covered with notes.
Not all of them concern Kaitou KID.
KID doesn't even clear his throat, he starts speaking immediately: “Nakamori-keibu.”
The inspector flinches slightly before turning slowly. Nakamori doesn't even appear surprised; his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth bitterly set.
“KID.” It's the first time Nakamori has been this calm in front of him as KID. “So it’s you as well.”
Even though it is not his face, his usual grin is there.
Nakamori crosses his arms. “You’re here because of Kudou.”
“I am positively surprised by you, Inspector.”
Instead of replying, Nakamori takes a long, deep breath. His shoulders rise almost to his ears. “Unlike you, I've got Megure breathing down my neck. After all, it’s his golden boy who’s gone missing.”
KID nods. “What do you know?”
“The question is rather, what do you know?”
Before KID answers, he has to consider how much to tell Nakamori. Above all, because he doesn’t want to put the old man in danger — more than necessary. He had never intended to let Nakamori come into contact with these men at all. Kaito had always been glad that Nakamori was not that competent enough to attract too much attention.
But maybe he had misjudged the old man.
⌛︎
Shinichi doesn't know how long he has been unconscious. What he does know is that this time he is waking up for sure on his camp bed. His whole body is nothing but pain — and fire. Breathing is difficult, and Shinichi does not even dare to turn his head to look toward the door.
It would have no consequences anyway. The little ceiling lamp remains off.
So he stays on his back, breathing carefully in and out. He listens to every small sound coming from his door, which is not much. Snake and his men seem not to want to bother him today. Perhaps Spider has forbidden it. Occasionally he hears footsteps and voices, but they always stay away from his door, never approaching.
Shinichi dozes off again. He no longer struggles to stay awake. As soon as he moves, he wakes. His heart races and the pain courses through his burning body. He wants to make no sound, unsure whether Spider or Snake is watching, waiting for him to be ready to continue.
He only wants to sleep. He is no longer thirsty, no longer hungry — two things that left him long ago. His body has other problems now.
Shinichi allows himself a sigh. At least, are they leaving KID alone?
Suddenly, the air in the room changes, growing cold yet stifling. Spider emerges from the shadows — this time without a mask. Shinichi has no strength left to feel fear. From experiences that aren’t his own, he knows that victims who see their attacker’s true face do not come back alive.
Shinichi had never thought that the man behind the mask could actually have something human about him. Under other circumstances, Shinichi might have even found Spider somewhat beautiful, with his sharp cheekbones and blonde hair framing his face, emphasizing his blue eyes. Eyes that look at him hungrily. Spider’s thin lips curl into a smile.
Spider stops right next to his camp bed. He brushes the sweat-soaked hair from Shinichi’s forehead. Disgusted, Shinichi wants to turn away but has no strength to do so.
“Interesting,” Spider murmurs. “Have you already come to terms with your situation — or do you no longer feel any fear?”
Shinichi remains silent. He sees no point in answering.
Spider rests his index finger on Shinichi’s forehead. “I’m sure there’s still something in there that can feel fear.” He leans down toward him. The blue in Spider’s eyes suddenly appears black. “Everything could be over. The pain. The fear. If you give me what I want.”
As Shinichi swallows, he realizes how dry his throat is. He doesn’t recognize the voice now in the room as his own.“I don't know the name.”
“Poor boy,” says Spider, placing his hand on his cheek. “Poor Shinichi. You would rather die than tell me. But good for you, there is still something else you can give me — something that belongs to KID.”
Confused, Shinichi furrows his brows. Spider’s hand feels wrong on his skin.
“Something you think you can hide from me…”
Shinichi has no idea what Spider means. He doesn't know KID’s name — at least that seems to be something Spider has realized. What else could he mean? Exhausted, he just shakes his head.
“Ah,” Spider says, “you’ve hidden it from yourself? How delicious.”
Spider leans down so close that Shinichi can feel his breath on his ear. Then Spider whispers into his ear: “Shall I show you?”
A faint premonition overtakes Shinichi. He opens his eyes wide. A cold shiver runs through him, and despite the pain, he presses himself away from Spider. “No—,” he whispers, his voice rasping in his throat. “No—!”
“No?” Spider repeats, roughly gripping his chin, forcing Shinichi to look at him. “It was clever of you to provoke Snake. But now it’s my turn to play games.”
Spider’s eyes are now neither blue nor black.
They are deep red. A spider crawls over his face.
⌛︎
Shinichi rests his forearms on the railing. Despite his jacket, he can feel the biting cold of the metal against his skin — but the view is worth it. Tonight, the streets of Shinjuku glow in a kaleidoscope of colors: glaring white from the lamps, garish neon from the countless billboards, and blue from the police sirens.
Kaitou KID leads Nakamori and his small alliance through the streets as if they were playing a game — but by KID’s rules.
With a faint smile, Shinichi watches the spectacle from a distance. He had already had his brief clash with the thief before the chase broke out and KID had to disappear.
He shakes his head. Down there, Nakamori is currently wasting fuel like crazy; the real KID has long since vanished — and the figure in the sky is only a dummy.
Breathing quietly, Shinichi takes one last look at the skyline before turning around, almost expecting to come face to face with the real KID.
Instead, he sees a figure lying on the ground.
Shinichi’s heart skips a beat before he runs toward KID and drops hard to his knees. The top hat and monocle are where they belong. But the thief’s white suit is slowly changing color, losing its innocence and taking on the dark red of blood.
A direct shot to the heart.
Still, Shinichi tremulously reaches out, placing his hand on KID’s neck, hoping to find a pulse —
KID’s skin is clammy and already cold.
“Oh God,” escapes him. Suddenly, nausea rises within him, his stomach knots. Shinichi places his other hand on KID’s face, feeling his own heart pound against his ribs. His vision blurs.
KID’s eyes stare blankly through him.
That was me, a voice whispers in his head, at first not his, until it becomes his own. This is my fault. I’m to blame!
Next to KID’s body lies his service weapon.
Shinichi shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to see this image anymore; he wants to banish it from his memory. Tears run down his cheeks, soaking the fabric.
Shinichi sobs softly. He feels two hands shaking his shoulders, but refuses to open his eyes. “No,” he whispers, over and over again.
The shaking of his shoulders grows stronger. “Shinichi—”
That isn't Spider’s voice. Nor Snake’s. But Spider is capable of imitating voices. Or is he?
Hesitantly, Shinichi opens his eyes. The ceiling lamp is still off, but light from the open door spills in, burning his eyes. The figure before him stands in the shadows, yet even the shadow seems familiar.
Hands touch him, first on his shoulders, then his cheeks. Shinichi flinches violently, instinctively turning his head away. A soft whimper escapes him.
Instantly, the hands pull away. He hears a quiet curse, uncharacteristic for Spider, but very typical of Snake.
“Shinichi, look at me,” the voice gently asks him.
Shinichi squeezes his eyes even tighter, his pulse thundering in his ears. “No—please, please don’t—”
“You’re safe now.” A lie. All lies. Just another attempt to make him believe he’s safe and then catch him even colder. “Please, look at me. We don’t have much time…!”
Hesitantly, he opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to make out the vague features of a young man, still unfamiliar to him. And yet… somehow faintly familiar.
His heart stops. Shinichi holds his breath. Suddenly, he feels ice-cold. “K-KID?”
KID nods once, the corners of his mouth twitching upward tiredly. “Well, actually—”
“No!” Shinichi interrupts, shaking his head. “I-I don’t want to know!”
He sees KID hesitate, then nod again. “Okay,” he says, concealing his thoughts and feelings. “Can you walk?”
Shinichi isn’t even sure he can sit up by himself.
“Okay,” KID repeats, running a hand through his already tousled hair. A wig? Surely not his real face. “Then… I have to— may I touch you?”
What choice does he have? KID waits until Shinichi gives his consent, then helps him sit up, placing a hand on his cheek and shoulder to stabilize him further. Even though KID is helping him slowly, Shinichi feels dizzy the moment he sits. Automatically, he grabs KID’s wrist, his only anchor, hoping the spinning will stop and the dizziness ease.
In contrast to his flushed skin, KID’s hand is pleasantly cool. Shinichi allows himself to close his eyes briefly and lean on him.
Please, Shinichi hopes inwardly, please no more hallucinations.
“KID?” Shinichi asks softly and opens his eyes. KID looks back at him from the hallway. He tries to appear calm, but Shinichi senses his tension. They technically don’t have time for this, but…
Shinichi lifts his arm with effort and places his fingers on KID’s neck, right where he guesses his pulse is supposed to be.
KID’s heart beats strong and faster than he expected.
Shinichi can’t help but smile reluctantly. “The great Kaitou KID is nervous.”
He feels KID suppress a laugh. “If Nakamori and Megure were waiting for you, you’d be nervous too.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but KID suddenly grows serious. “Can we postpone this conversation?” He glances over his shoulder anxiously, then back at him. “I’m afraid we’re a bit pressed for time.”
Before Shinichi can react, KID drapes Shinichi’s arm over his shoulder, placing the other around his waist, and lifts him up. The moment Shinichi’s leg touches the floor, he bites his tongue to keep from crying out.
Fuck!, he curses silently. His vision blacks out. KID tightens his hold, and his ribs protest. Shinichi gasps for air, feeling no relief.
“Sorry,” KID murmurs beside him. In the next instant, he kneels and lifts Shinichi fully, one arm under his knees, the other supporting his back.
Shinichi’s entire body tenses, his eyes begin to water. He exhales sharply through closed lips and tries to inhale more slowly.
Maybe he should worry about why KID can carry him so easily. But that can wait for later.
Shinichi doesn’t know what’s worse: the throbbing in his ribs or the vibrations running through his body with every step KID takes, echoing through his bones up to his skull.
He feels his head fall against KID’s shoulder, his eyelids growing heavier, the pain dulling.
KID quickens his pace.
When they reach the outside and are met by Megure and Takagi, Shinichi is already unresponsive.
⌛︎
After all that time, the mattress and pillow feel unusually soft. The blanket is neither too heavy nor too thin, just right to keep him warm. He feels as if his body is wrapped comfortably in cotton, the pain is only a dull memory now. Shinichi still doesn’t want to move, not even to open his eyes.
Also out of fear that Spider will start playing with his mind again.
Beside him, he hears the rustle of fabric. Shinichi holds his breath. He slowly turns his head, unsure of what awaits him.
The room is sparsely lit. The moon is too weak to serve as a light source. A small lamp on one wall casts a warm, pleasant glow. KID sits on a cheap plastic chair, legs crossed, arms folded across his chest. His eyes are closed, his hair still disheveled.
The situation is too peaceful to have come from Spider.
Shinichi remains silent anyway. He lets the thief sleep and enjoys the quiet, trying to calm his mind and convince himself that he is apparently out of danger.
When KID’s head sags forward, he jerks awake and blinks in confusion. KID’s gaze falls on him, and his face brightens.
“Shinichi!” In the next second, KID jumps up, making a move to touch him, perhaps even to embrace him.
Shinichi opens his eyes wide and instinctively leans away. Immediately, KID stops, looking at him guiltily.
“Sorry,” KID says softly and, once Shinichi gives his okay, sits down beside him on the edge of the bed. “How are you? Are you still in pain?”
Shinichi listens to his body, shaking his head. “I’m—” fine, he wants to say, but the word gets stuck in his throat. He swallows. Swallows again as breathing still feels difficult. His hands clench the bedsheet. He quickly turns his head away. His vision blurs.
He takes deep breaths repeatedly, but it doesn’t help. The room seems darker, narrower. It closes in around him, almost suffocating him. Is that Spider laughing in the distance? Or is it just his mind playing tricks?
“Hey,” KID speaks gently, without touching him.
Almost mechanically, Shinichi turns his head back toward him. He doesn’t want to know how he must look to the thief. The great detective of the Tokyo Police, the Heisei Holmes, sits in a panic attack in a hospital bed while the most wanted thief sits next to him as if nothing ever happened.
Although… the latter isn’t entirely true. KID looks exhausted. Or is it just a mask he’s wearing?
“Tell me what I can do.” KID looks at him with wide eyes, lips pressed together.
Shinichi shrugs. He doesn’t even know the answer himself.
“I’m sorry,” KID suddenly says. “I should have found you sooner. Spider should never have gotten his hands on you.”
“Stop it.” Shinichi furrows his brows, his voice suddenly firmer. “It’s not your fault.”
KID rolls his eyes. “Oh really? They didn’t… because of me—?”
Kidnapped.
Captured.
Tortured.
Shinichi lowers his gaze to his trembling hands. An IV is in his left hand, his knuckles are scraped. Why? He doesn’t know.
“It’s not your fault, KID,” he repeats his words from earlier.
He hears the thief exhale. “They wanted my name from you, right?”
Caught, Shinichi looks at him. He suddenly feels tight in his chest. “Even if,” he says, clearing his throat because his voice fails him, “even if I had known it — I could never have told them.”
For a moment, KID says nothing. Slowly, the thief reaches his hand out until his fingertips brush Shinichi’s hand. Nothing more.
“Do you still not want to know it?”
He gives him the choice. Shinichi holds his breath. Does he want to know?
Shinichi’s shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t want to be the reason you fall.”
KID strokes his wounded knuckles with his thumb. “Shinichi,” he begins, “you’re the reason I’m not already on the ground.”
Instead of replying, Shinichi just looks at him. The meaning of the words doesn’t quite register. “…what?”
KID smiles at him. “Surprised? So was I.”
“I—I don’t quite understand—”
“I’ll explain tomorrow. After Megure and Nakamori are done with you.”
“That… that sounds like a threat.”
Despite the fatigue in his face, KID grins broadly, almost happily. Shinichi notices it’s different from the smile KID usually wears, warmer, more sincere. Only now does Shinichi dare to ask: “Is— is that your real face? No mask?”
“Here,” KID says, carefully taking Shinichi’s hand and placing it on his face. “No mask. All real.”
“Oh,” is all Shinichi can manage, as he runs his thumb over KID’s cheek. He sinks a little deeper into the pillows, overwhelmed by the exhaustion suddenly overtaking him, letting his hand drop beside him. “Will you stay?”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, KID answers seriously: “Of course.” He crosses his arms on the bed and rests his head on them.
⌛︎
The next morning, KID is nowhere to be seen. Shinichi doesn’t know whether the night nurse caught him or if he managed to hide before the morning shift. But when Megure arrives with Nakamori to scold him, Shinichi lets their tirade pass over him calmly.
Until there is a knock at the door.
Megure straightens his coat. “Come in?”
A mop of brown, tousled hair peeks through the door. KID’s grin on his face.
Unintentionally, Shinichi smiles.