Archive of Our Own

Conan scowled as he felt a familiar presence behind him. "If you were here the whole time, why didn't you show up for the heist?"

A pair of long legs settled on the bench next to him, clad in a pair of black denim jeans instead of the brilliant white he'd grown accustomed to.

"You mean old man Suzuki's challenge? No need to."

Conan huffed. "What, had you already stolen it before, like that moonstone?"

The man beside him was quiet. He was sorely tempted to glance up at him, to cajole him into answering his question, but he fought it down. If he wasn't here as KID today, there was a chance he wasn't wearing a disguise, either. 

Finally, he spoke. "KID won't be around anymore."

The shrunken teen froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. "What do you mean?"

"It's done." The man murmured, producing a deck of cards from thin air and idly turning them in his hands. "What they were looking for didn't exist, so I made a convincing fake. They fell for it, and now the reason for KID's existence has been resolved."

The thief's words turned to static in his ears.

'It's done.' 

The finality of the statement drowned out the rest of the world.

Conan knew that KID was looking for something—that the thief had his own goals and hunters that he hid from the police with flashy misdirections. He had always been tempted to look, to peak behind the curtain and reveal the truth—but he never did. 

That would have meant overstepping their boundaries as rivals, breaking their gentleman's agreement, shattering the suspension that this was nothing but an elaborate game of cat and mouse. If KID wanted Conan's help, he would demand it—drag Conan right into the thick of the mystery and claim the only way out was to solve it.

'It's done.'

It never occurred that KID wouldn't want his help. That the thief would hang up his cape when his mission was finished. 

His recklessness had put Shinichi's life on a timer. The world wouldn't wait for him while he was stuck as Conan. Time marched onward: the Shounen Tantei moved up a grade, his classmates graduated, Ran moved on. 

And now, here was another thing he had run out of time for—a treasure he never knew he had was stolen away from him. 

'It's done.'—'There is nothing left for you.'

"What are you looking for, congratulations?" The words come like bitter bile at the back of his throat. "Here to gloat on how you've won this game?" 

The viciousness startled him. The supposedly unflappable KID nearly fumbled the cards in his hands before vanishing them in a puff of pink smoke. Conan wasn't sure why that minuscule crack in his facade brought him such vindictive pleasure.

"No- no, of course not! I just..." He sighed, suddenly sounding much younger and unsure of himself than he pretended to be. "I didn't want to just disappear on you."

The boy scoffed, turning his head away from his rival. "Aren't you planning on doing that anyway? You said KID wouldn't come around anymore, right? So what's the point...?"

A beat of silence hung in the air, bearing the weight of years between them. Time spent chasing each other across rooftops. Of helping each other out in a faux quid pro quo of keeping up pretences. Years of tentative trust and a reliance born of trauma bonds forged in the wake of countless crises scattered across their shared memories.

'It's done.'

All thrown away in the blink of an eye. KID would return to his normal life, and he would... 

The constant fear gnawed in his gut, threatening to drag him under.

He would survive. 

That was all he could do.

"It may be a curtain call for this act, but what sort of artist would I be if I left my most dedicated critic without any recommendations for future shows to patronise." 

Conan scoffed. "You think I care for other thieves?" But his suspicions perked — where was KID leading with this?

"Oh no, I know homicide remains the true calling of your little shinigami heart." That crack of vulnerability was plastered over, once again leaving the mask on full display—but wasn't it through this masquerade that they made their connection? "If you're looking for other magicians, however, there might be one closer than you think—aren't you related to an actress who had to learn the art of disguise?"

 Conan's heart caught in his throat at the lifeline thrown into his abyss. There were hints he had turned a blind eye on out of respect, connections that he never exploited. 

A stage accident that clearly was a cover up for a murder. His mother's pestering to meet her sensei's son.

For so long Conan wished KID would reach out for assistance—and here it was, but to save him instead. 

"I'm sure there's an aspiring rookie out there that would appreciate the eagle-eyed criticisms of the East's greatest detective."   

KID was going to disappear —but that didn't mean their connection had to end. 

Conan turned but, as expected, there was no one else there on the bench. Just a single flower left beside him—the delicate pink bloom of a nerine, a diamond lily.

'Until we meet again.'

The chase was back on. 

Time to see if Kuroba-niichan would be willing to babysit little Conan-kun.