Categories > Anime/Manga > Detective Conan > Magician's Waltz
Note: It has come to my attention that the gem in this story has been used before in DC/MK fanfiction. I cannot help that fact, and I apologize for the repeat but I'm not waisting two weeks of research just to start over again. Please allow me that and I hope this story continues to have a thread of originality.
Chapter Five: Showtime!
“Live has no rehearsals, only performances.” -Unknown
It only takes a single instant for your wold to change. For everything you knew to vanish, and for the unknown to replace it. For someone predisposed to insanity via trauma, genetics or just plain desire, that instant can last forever.
-
The wig was hot, the tights binding. The sheer amount of LAYERS was stifling, even in the cooling fall evening. He resisted the urge to scratch his head as he stood behind the introductory speaker, shifting only slightly as the tights bound at his thighs again, trying to cut off circulation under the short...things the costume required him to wear.
Turning his head, he blew a curl from his face, glancing at his 'wife' who looked equally hot and miserable under her wig and layers of dress and under garments. Giving her a small smile he offered her his hand, giving the small palm in his a gentle squeeze as he shifted, holding her hand as they continued listening to the speech.
Sadly this speaker was only the first of a long, long list of forgin and local dignitaries. Three countries worth in fact.
They were in for a miserable adventure.
-
Sita was the wife of Rama, the Seventh Avatara of Vishnu. Her life story was passed down for centuries, preached to each girl growling up in India as the values to possess and strive for in life, no matter how harsh or demanding.
The statues built to her honor were ones of great beauty, honoring not only the physical beauty of the woman, but her spiritual beauty and strength.
In one of these beautiful statues, a shimmering blue eye watches over those seeking her guidance, the other long since lost to time.
-
He groaned, stretching his arms over his head as he listened to the sink faucet run. “If I hear one more dignitary open his mouth I'm going to belt him.” he muttered, grabbing the bottle of water on the sink and taking a long, much needed drink.
“Really Louis, such behavior from a King.” the woman next to him said, smiling as she turned off the faucet and wiped her hands before pulling her glove back on.
Her 'husband' smiled and took her hand, giving it a kiss. “You can't deny they would deserve it, Marie.” he said before raising their arms, forcing the woman to turn so that her back was to him. Picking up the necklace laying on the small shelf in their private resting area, he slid his arm around her neck, opening the ends of the necklace before sliding it across her throat, humming as he secured the latches, adjusting the gold and diamond layers so that the large blue stone in the center rested just perfectly above the curve of her cleavage.
“Another day, another brilliant performance.” he said, kissing her ear before grabbing his cape, sliding it over his shoulders. Offering her his arm and lead her from the room and out to join the assembled, taking their seats again as the museum guards and curators started setting up the display for the next portion of the ceremony.
-
The Order of the Golden Fleece was an order of chivalry, containing 51 knights in the height of it's popularity. It was started as a celebration of a royal marriage and lasted even unto this day, with the last recorded awarding to a member in Japan being the current Emperor, Akihito.
In 1749, one of the most prominent members of the order, was King Louis XV of France, who wore his sheep shaped pendant proudly, along with a rare blue diamond.
-
Saguru watched the building of the display with intense scrutiny, studying not only each face and person associated with the construction, but the construction itself, making sure nothing went amiss. Handcuffed to his wrist was a small black briefcase, his hand clenched around the handle so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
He had been called out of school that morning for a very intriguing and honorable job. He was to escort the...special guest of today's ceremony from Narita International Airport to the ceremony site, and then to the vault where it would be kept until the more permanent display cases were completed.
He was leaving nothing to chance or circumstance. He would die before something happened to the case and it's contents. It wasn't just his reputation and honor at stake, but those of his country, and several others.
National treasures were not to just disappear.
-
In 1812, a 45.52 carat blue diamond came to light in the possession of one Daniel Eliason of London. No records exist to point to how the gentleman acquired such a fine specimen, and the exchange of hands after his possession are also missing, until 1824 where it was discovered again in the gem collection of one Henry Phillip Hope.
-
“Ladies and Gentleman!” the speaker said and Saguru attempted not to wince, finding he had a distaste of that phrase, English or not. He moved forward at his cue, raising the case and laying it on the glass podium, nearly blinded by the flashbulbs going off.
This was the first time he had ever had his picture taken for something that had absolutely nothing to do with him. He turned his wrist as two guards came over, one holding his wrist, the other unlocking the cuff.
Lowering his wrist to his side, trying to ignore the tingling of his blood returning to normal circulation, he stepped back a step, watching as the guards inspected the case before bowing to him. He returned to his place and fished a set of keys from his shirt pocket, unlocking the case and opening it fully. He slid the key away again before reaching into the case and raising the inner shelf, lifting the small pedestal. He then grabbed the glass cover next to his podium and placed it over the pedestal, snapping the lid of the briefcase backwards so the reverse hinges locked and the lid was completely out of the way.
“The Smithsonian Institution is proud to present to you, the Hope Diamond!”
There were cheers as the brilliant blue diamond was displayed for all assembled, flashbulbs going off in orgasmic joy at the sight they were capturing for nations to see. Saguru, if asked, would admit the stone was a beautiful piece. He wasn't a gem expert or enthusiast by any means, but after spending so much time working theft, and having a mother fond of the sparky minerals, he could appreciate the beauty that they offered.
And the Hope Diamond was nothing if not beautiful...and shiny...very shiny. He shifted his position so that the reflected sunbeams and flash reflections wouldn't blind him, still keeping a wary eye on everyone and thing around him as he guarded the diamond, backed up by two forces of security.
He wondered if it was this nerve wracking guarding the royal family.
-
The Hope Diamond, once part of a much larger gem known as the French Blue, is reportedly responsible for many tragedies, from bankruptcy, to rape and murder. Some of the most notable names in history have fallen under is dramatic spell, from French Queen Marie Antoinette, to American Mining Heiress Evalyn Walsh McLean. (the later easily disproved as the socialite died of pneumonia at the ripe old age of 60).
Through it's long, strange journey from the supposed eye of an Indian statue to the crowning glory of an American museum's gem collection, it has passed through hands of the greatest and the worst in society, it has been blamed for the worst atrocities men can inflict upon each other...it has been worn by a Great Dane as it's dog collar.
And the legend and myth surrounding the gem have become the things that books are written about and children whisper to each other in the dead of night.
It has only been stolen once in it's recorded history.
-
Saguru was tired. The ceremony had lasted long into the night, until the Hope Diamond itself was twinkling tiredly in the flood lights. But finally, at three am the speeches were done, the crowd had gone home, and he was free to head to the vault to store the Diamond and wash his hands of it's care.
He yawned, shuffling slightly as he walked down the dark hallway between the front doors and the limo that was waiting for him. The vault was a non nondescript building two blocks away, assumed by most to be an office complex for a group of accountants.
His guards were still at the front doors, the museum emptied before the ceremony started. The only people allowed inside were the official dignitaries, the museum personal, himself, his guards and the costumed actors that were hired to represent prominent era's in the stone's history.
But this deep in the Museum there was no one, everyone else restricted to the front offices and rooms of the museum. He stretched his arms, wincing at the pain in his bound wrist, giving it a rotation as he lifted the briefcase with his other hand.
A shadow fell across the floor and he frowned, releasing the briefcase to draw his gun, pulling the slide back to load a bullet. The weapon had been a birthday gift from his father, and he was remorseful to actually use such a beautiful piece in the course of duty, but it served him far better then his late model revolver. More bullets for one thing.
He raised the weapon, his cuffed hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small ladies make up compact. He flipped the latch with his thumbnail and used his teeth to adjust the hinge so that the compact was in a V before using it to peer around the corner ahead of him. His eyebrows drew together as he spotted the King Louis actor, wondering at the actor's intentions.
“You're not supposed to be back here.” he called. The actor turned and stared at the mirror, the gaze reflecting back to Saguru via the mirror. “What is your business?” the detective quired, not moving around the corner just yet, still unsure of the intentions of the intruder.
He was in a rough spot. No guard, the Hope Diamond strapped to his wrist, and a gun that he didn't want to fire into some guy who wondered back here for innocent reasons (or even not so innocent, he just didn't like shooting people).
The decision of what do to however, was taken out of his hands as the man moved, faster then Saguru would have thought for an overweight, middle aged man. The actor turned the corner and was in front of the teen before the gun was even halfway lowered.
Saguru's finger tightened on the trigger just as cuffed wrist was grabbed. A shoulder met his mid section and the blond was airborne, cursing as his wrist twisted in the man's grasp, a sharp crack punctuation the air, followed by Saguru's body slamming into the marble tiled floor.
Dizzy, vision swimming with fog Saguru tried to push himself up, crumbling as his broken wrist gave out beneath his weight. There was a metallic click and Saguru's eyes widened, staring up at the gun pointed at his forehead.
The far wider then normal barrel was a distinctively familiar object.
“I will cut off your wrist if I have to,” the actor said, his voice blank, neither heat nor cold colouring his words. The pair remained frozen, the words hovering before the actor knelt, jerking the wrist that was holding Saguru up, causing the teen to hit the floor, his jaw landing first, blood filling his mouth from his sliced tounge.
Flipping the boy over with rather relative ease, the actor switched wrists and studied the shiny silver handcuff bound to Saguru. The teen, not wishing to give up his charge so easily kicked out with his legs. There was a stumble, his wrist dropped as the would be thief jumped, back flipping away from the limb attempting to knock him down.
Saguru scooted backwards as fast as he could with an injured hand, eyes scanning wildly about before resting on his gun, part way across the room. He aimed his scooting in that direction, listening to the sounds of the thief standing.
“That wasn't very nice, Hakuba-kun.” the thief said and reached into his many clothing layers, pulling out what appeared to be a can of spray paint.
“It wasn't supposed to be, Kid-san.” Saguru growled, finally collapsing onto the floor, reaching desperately for his gun. His fingers slid over the cool metal and he struggled to grab a hold of it, just as it was kicked away from him. Saguru growled again and looked up, just in time to get a face full of bright pink sleeping glass.
The teen detective coughed for a moment before collapsing, eyes closed in sleep. Kid shook his head and straddled the teen's waist, finding it a better position to work from as he laid the broken wrist across Saguru's chest, pulling his lock pick set from his wig, working on the cuff that bound his prey to the teen.
“Really, Hakuba. You keep walking into these messes. First your own gas and now mine. One would think you would grow an immunity to it considering how many times I've doused you.” he said conversationally as he worked the lock.
He took his eyes off the cuff to study Saguru's sleeping face before returning his attention to the tricky lock. It finally snapped open and Kid smiled, licking his lips as he lifted the case. He leaned in and placed a big kiss against Saguru's cheek. “Someone as pretty as you should not put themselves in a situation where they could get hurt, Saguru-chan.” he whispered, licking Saguru's ear before standing. He fished around in his costume before pulling out a marker.
Kneeling again, he pushed Saguru's tie out of the way, opening the teen's shirt to bare his neck and upper chest, then, with painstaking effort, drew a small image of himself, holding a mini replica of the Hope Diamond.
He stood again, and set the briefcase on a display case of shrunken heads before pulling off his wig, cape, and the other various costuming layers purloined from the true King Louis actor. Each layer that came off revealed another layer that remained, until the teen was dressed in a simple white suit (and white tights, but they didn't' show).
He pulled a small hair dryer shaped object from the pile of clothing and studied the cealing above him before pressing the trigger. A grappling hook shot out, wrapping around one of the cealing support beams above the fourth floor. He grabbed the briefcase, then flipped a switch and pressed the trigger again, swallowing the scream that tried to come out as his body was suddenly jerked into air, almost smashing into the walls from the momentum and swinging motion as he flew diagonally.
Grabbing the fourth floor walkway railing, he halted his flight and retrieved the hook, tucking it on his belt before grabbing the hang glider harness and heading through the rooms to the waiting balcony.
-
Kaito groaned as his eyes opened and he sat up, yawning, staring around the basement bedroom in confusion. He didn't remember laying down, he didn't even remember coming downstairs. He remembered...
He remembered sitting down to his computer to catch up on some of the school work he had missed while he had been...away and then...nothing.
Nothing to explain why he was downstairs, in the secret room, in the hidden bedroom, nothing to explain why he was sore...
He was really, really starting to hate these black outs. At least he had the sense to lie down before it happened. Standing he headed through the bedroom and then the work room, smiling at his father's picture, gently brushing his fingers over the painting before pushing it open and stepping through, just as the living room phone rang.
“I've got it!” he called, pushing the painting shut and grabbing the handset. “Hello!” he said cheerily in English, heading through the kitchen, grabbing a pear on his way and kissing his mother's cheek, who swatted at him playfully.
“Kaito?! Oh thank the gods you're there! There's been an accident! Hakuba and dad are at the Emergency room!”
Kaito's mouth dropped open, almost losing the bite of pear he had taken. “Aoko? What happened? Is your father all right?” Kaito said, his mind waking up and revving up, trying to review all the possible injuries that could have happened to the two detectives. Sure the pair weren't his two favorite people at times, the whole out for his blood and monocle thing putting a damper on their relationships, but they WERE friends of sorts, and he didn't want to think of them in some of the situations their jobs could put them in.
That he sometimes put them in.
“Dad's fine, he's babysitting Hakuba.” Aoko said, calming down as she talked with her childhood friend. Kaito's voice could always sooth her at her most frazzled, just as it could enrage her in the same moment. Right now, she was glad it was soothing.
“What happened to Hakuba?” Kaito asked, his tone quite clearly saying the blond deserved it, even through they both knew that wasn't really what Kaito thought. But the rivalry was familiar and comforting in a time when their friend could be seriously injured.
“I don't know, I just know he got injured in the heist! No one will tell me ANYTHING and it's absolutely ridiculous! Last time the Kid pulled one of his stunts he was SHOT and now they tell me Hakuba's injured and they won't tell me how and I'm worried it might be bad and...”
Kaito's mind shut out Aoko's rambling, trying to connect invisible puzzle pieces with edges that refused to match up. Heist? WHAT heist? And what was this about Kid? He was Kid, Kid wasn't doing anything but currently eating a pear.
“Aoko...AOKO!”
“Huh? Oh, what?” she said, pausing in her rant, startled by the interruption.
“WHAT heist are you talking about? Haven't you seen the news or read the paper? Kaitou Kid sent out a notice a week ago. Everyone was so...HAPPY, if you can believe that, that he was going to steal something! Well, I guess they were happy he was alive, you know how they are. Anyway it was a really weird note and no one could figure it out, well, okay they had the time about, but no idea WHAT was being stolen so they couldn't figure out when and then...”
Kaito tried to listen, but honestly his mind was a group of screaming alarms right now, trying to figure out how a heist had been performed without his knowledge or permission. He would blame Jii, except for he KNEW the man wasn't even in the city at the time. Jii had gone to Hiroshima to pick up a new order of pink gas, this time scented with mango's, a specialty that one could ONLY get in that city, from a certain vendor. The elderly man was then going to swing by Kyoto and pick up a few bolts of silk from a long time acquaintance, who provided the material for all of his capes.
So who was running around using his name?!
“Aoko, what was targeted?” he asked, mind flipping over to the section of his brain that filed away information on jewels and their histories, wondering if it was something that would help or harm his reputation. His eyes cast idly around the living room as he thought of all the targets he had been thinking of before the accident, hoping it wasn't one of his top five.
“The Hope Diamond.” The girl said, at the same time Kaito's eyes rested on the Buddha statue on their alter in the den.
Where the blue diamond in question rested happily, the white diamond chain wrapped around the Buddha's neck. The statue looked quite happy to be sporting a new addition, pleased with the cursed jewel necklace.
“I...I'll head over to the hospital, give me a few minutes.” Kaito choked out and hung up just as Aoko had taken a breath to reply, eyes widening, almost to a terrified extreme as he stared at the stolen necklace. “MOM!” he screamed, turning and running for the kitchen, eager for answers.
-
The noises of the busy hospital were starting to irritate Saguru, causing his eye to twitch with each beep, each shrill laugh of the nurses. The forensics team had already come and gone, removing his dignity as they combed his hair into envelopes, removed his clothing for the trace labs to examine, and photographed his neck and wrists.
His gun was taken as well, not that it would help much, the chambered bullet had been removed for safety, but never fired, and as far as he knew, Kid hadn't touched it.
Once the evidence was removed for testing he was allowed to be treated, the deep blue cast around his hand and forearm a painful reminder that things had gone very, very wrong.
Nakamori was outside the room, ignoring the non smoking signs, puffing away as he fielded calls from the press and brass alike, covering Saguru as best he could. But the teen knew things were bad. He had been entrusted with the care of a national treasure and now it was gone, somewhere in Japan in the hands of a white clad thief. This was NOT going to reflect good on him, his fellow officers, or his country.
And he feared the reaction when the news hit England. He wouldn't get a job guarding a dog park, let alone that nice Inspector's job with Scotland Yard he had once dreamed of.
The teen sighed heavily, laying back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the emotions that just wanted him to break down and cry. He lifted his cast hand, staring at it, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
But it just DIDN'T make sense. If it hadn't been for all the evidence, he would have suspected an impostor. The whole fight was off, not only Kid's reactions but the injury, the threats...there was no hint of the playful, bouncing magician he knew inside the clothing of the thief. Nor were their hints of the performance minded, playful thief himself.
Just a blank slate.
It was as if...and Saguru felt like an idiot for even thinking it, as if everything that had once made Kid...Kid was locked away, missing. And the thief hadn't yet found things to replace those missing things. Everyone's personality is after all, defined by experience. The sum total of what we live through, creates who we are.
If you take away those things, you are left with an empty drawing board that needs to be filled back in again. Likes, desires, hatreds, friendships, all need to be formed and connected before the board fills in.
But people just didn't LOSE themselves. Even amnesiacs have their personalities, they just lack the memories that made up that personalities.
Something tickled at the back of Saguru's brain and he frowned, trying to connect the dots with that tickle, the connection weak and slippery as the tickle was not revealing itself into thought. He was distracted from this, however, when the door opened.
Raising his eyes, his eyebrow followed as he stared at the nervous magician in the doorway. “Do what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, watching Kaito warily, tucking his injured arm closer to his chest. He KNEW Kaito was Kid. He knew it just as well as he knew Watson or his parents. He just lacked the evidence to prove it.
So Kaito walking into his hospital room, so soon after being injured by the teens alter ego, was a bit nerve wracking.
“What, I can't come by and visit my favorite bumbling British detective?” Kaito asked with a grin, closing the door behind him, almost bouncing across the room as he set something on Saguru's head.
Saguru, proud not to flinch as the teen moved closer to him rolled his eyes up, trying to see what was on his head before reaching up and removing the object, looking at it. A bear...dressed as Sherlock Holmes.
Cute.
He gave Kaito a look, ignoring the boy's smile growing as he ticked the bear next to him in bed. “So what are you really hear for, Kuroba? You don't usually visit me.”
“You don't usually end up in the hospital,” Kaito countered, pulling up the visitor's chair, staring at Saguru before sighing. “So what happened?”
“You should know, seeing as how you where there,” Saguru said, allowing a bit of his anger and frustration peek through.
“Ah, but I wasn't.” Kaito said, not even bothering to correct Saguru's allusions to him being Kid. Either way, he HADN'T been there. “I was at home, resting comfortably. Ask my mother.”
“You are your mother's only son, she'd easily lie for you.” Saguru bit out before holding out his casted arm. “This, was the handiwork of 'Kid', who decided my wrist had gotten in his way and deserved to be twisted as an abnormal angle until it broke.”
Kaito's eyes widened and he winced in sympathetic pain, having his own run in with injured wrists recently. In fact, he had to wear a wrist brace starting yesterday after straining his wrist doing a back flip...well, that was the official story. It wounded better then saying he twisted it while trying to catch himself after falling down the stairs.
“Then it couldn't have been Kid!” Kaito said happily. “Remember, no one gets hurt, that's his deal. Well except him, obviously, but he wouldn't have hurt you just for a gem.”
“Hmm.” Saguru said after a moment. “Normally, I would agree with you, as rare as that situation is, except that it WAS him. The smell, the feel, the reactions, everything was the same. It was the same Kid I've been studying for two years now. The same Kid I've been chasing.”
Kaito shook his head as Saguru spoke. It COULDN'T have been the same Kid! He was the same Kid! And he did NOT break Saguru's wrist!
Saguru watched Kaito shake his head in fevered denial and leaned closer to the boy, though keeping his wrists far away. “Do you know something, Kaito, something that would make you so eager to deny my words? Some bit of information I wouldn't know that would prove, without a doubt, Kaitou Kid did not injure a consultant attached to the Kaitou Kid Task Force, a crime considering I was acting as a law enforcement officer at the time?” he asked, almost puring the words, quite sure he had a nice little trap for Kaito.
If he wanted the charge of assaulting an officer off Kid's record, Kaito would have to admit to being the man behind the monocle, and face the punishment as he was arrested. He would then of course have to provide an alibi for his whereabout, but he was sure Kaito would manage that.
If Kaito DIDN'T confess...a very, very serious charge was added to the long line of Kid's record.
It was a very nice catch twenty two and Saguru was rather proud of his handiwork. Either way, Kid would pay, if he was caught now or caught later, and the bit of pain was worth it if Kid was convicted for a crime that would get him REAL time, not just grand thefts.
“I...I've gotta go!” Kaito said, making a show of checking his watch and standing. “You need your rest, I'll send another present with Aoko when she brings dinner for you and her father.” he said, trying to regain his infamous poker face. He hadn't needed it in so long and now, as things were going to hell, it seemed to refuse to snap into place.
He fled the hospital room, though covered his fleeing by walking casually, mind a whirl, though the main question of 'what the fuck is going on?!' swirled about repeatedly.
TBC
Chapter Five: Showtime!
“Live has no rehearsals, only performances.” -Unknown
It only takes a single instant for your wold to change. For everything you knew to vanish, and for the unknown to replace it. For someone predisposed to insanity via trauma, genetics or just plain desire, that instant can last forever.
-
The wig was hot, the tights binding. The sheer amount of LAYERS was stifling, even in the cooling fall evening. He resisted the urge to scratch his head as he stood behind the introductory speaker, shifting only slightly as the tights bound at his thighs again, trying to cut off circulation under the short...things the costume required him to wear.
Turning his head, he blew a curl from his face, glancing at his 'wife' who looked equally hot and miserable under her wig and layers of dress and under garments. Giving her a small smile he offered her his hand, giving the small palm in his a gentle squeeze as he shifted, holding her hand as they continued listening to the speech.
Sadly this speaker was only the first of a long, long list of forgin and local dignitaries. Three countries worth in fact.
They were in for a miserable adventure.
-
Sita was the wife of Rama, the Seventh Avatara of Vishnu. Her life story was passed down for centuries, preached to each girl growling up in India as the values to possess and strive for in life, no matter how harsh or demanding.
The statues built to her honor were ones of great beauty, honoring not only the physical beauty of the woman, but her spiritual beauty and strength.
In one of these beautiful statues, a shimmering blue eye watches over those seeking her guidance, the other long since lost to time.
-
He groaned, stretching his arms over his head as he listened to the sink faucet run. “If I hear one more dignitary open his mouth I'm going to belt him.” he muttered, grabbing the bottle of water on the sink and taking a long, much needed drink.
“Really Louis, such behavior from a King.” the woman next to him said, smiling as she turned off the faucet and wiped her hands before pulling her glove back on.
Her 'husband' smiled and took her hand, giving it a kiss. “You can't deny they would deserve it, Marie.” he said before raising their arms, forcing the woman to turn so that her back was to him. Picking up the necklace laying on the small shelf in their private resting area, he slid his arm around her neck, opening the ends of the necklace before sliding it across her throat, humming as he secured the latches, adjusting the gold and diamond layers so that the large blue stone in the center rested just perfectly above the curve of her cleavage.
“Another day, another brilliant performance.” he said, kissing her ear before grabbing his cape, sliding it over his shoulders. Offering her his arm and lead her from the room and out to join the assembled, taking their seats again as the museum guards and curators started setting up the display for the next portion of the ceremony.
-
The Order of the Golden Fleece was an order of chivalry, containing 51 knights in the height of it's popularity. It was started as a celebration of a royal marriage and lasted even unto this day, with the last recorded awarding to a member in Japan being the current Emperor, Akihito.
In 1749, one of the most prominent members of the order, was King Louis XV of France, who wore his sheep shaped pendant proudly, along with a rare blue diamond.
-
Saguru watched the building of the display with intense scrutiny, studying not only each face and person associated with the construction, but the construction itself, making sure nothing went amiss. Handcuffed to his wrist was a small black briefcase, his hand clenched around the handle so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
He had been called out of school that morning for a very intriguing and honorable job. He was to escort the...special guest of today's ceremony from Narita International Airport to the ceremony site, and then to the vault where it would be kept until the more permanent display cases were completed.
He was leaving nothing to chance or circumstance. He would die before something happened to the case and it's contents. It wasn't just his reputation and honor at stake, but those of his country, and several others.
National treasures were not to just disappear.
-
In 1812, a 45.52 carat blue diamond came to light in the possession of one Daniel Eliason of London. No records exist to point to how the gentleman acquired such a fine specimen, and the exchange of hands after his possession are also missing, until 1824 where it was discovered again in the gem collection of one Henry Phillip Hope.
-
“Ladies and Gentleman!” the speaker said and Saguru attempted not to wince, finding he had a distaste of that phrase, English or not. He moved forward at his cue, raising the case and laying it on the glass podium, nearly blinded by the flashbulbs going off.
This was the first time he had ever had his picture taken for something that had absolutely nothing to do with him. He turned his wrist as two guards came over, one holding his wrist, the other unlocking the cuff.
Lowering his wrist to his side, trying to ignore the tingling of his blood returning to normal circulation, he stepped back a step, watching as the guards inspected the case before bowing to him. He returned to his place and fished a set of keys from his shirt pocket, unlocking the case and opening it fully. He slid the key away again before reaching into the case and raising the inner shelf, lifting the small pedestal. He then grabbed the glass cover next to his podium and placed it over the pedestal, snapping the lid of the briefcase backwards so the reverse hinges locked and the lid was completely out of the way.
“The Smithsonian Institution is proud to present to you, the Hope Diamond!”
There were cheers as the brilliant blue diamond was displayed for all assembled, flashbulbs going off in orgasmic joy at the sight they were capturing for nations to see. Saguru, if asked, would admit the stone was a beautiful piece. He wasn't a gem expert or enthusiast by any means, but after spending so much time working theft, and having a mother fond of the sparky minerals, he could appreciate the beauty that they offered.
And the Hope Diamond was nothing if not beautiful...and shiny...very shiny. He shifted his position so that the reflected sunbeams and flash reflections wouldn't blind him, still keeping a wary eye on everyone and thing around him as he guarded the diamond, backed up by two forces of security.
He wondered if it was this nerve wracking guarding the royal family.
-
The Hope Diamond, once part of a much larger gem known as the French Blue, is reportedly responsible for many tragedies, from bankruptcy, to rape and murder. Some of the most notable names in history have fallen under is dramatic spell, from French Queen Marie Antoinette, to American Mining Heiress Evalyn Walsh McLean. (the later easily disproved as the socialite died of pneumonia at the ripe old age of 60).
Through it's long, strange journey from the supposed eye of an Indian statue to the crowning glory of an American museum's gem collection, it has passed through hands of the greatest and the worst in society, it has been blamed for the worst atrocities men can inflict upon each other...it has been worn by a Great Dane as it's dog collar.
And the legend and myth surrounding the gem have become the things that books are written about and children whisper to each other in the dead of night.
It has only been stolen once in it's recorded history.
-
Saguru was tired. The ceremony had lasted long into the night, until the Hope Diamond itself was twinkling tiredly in the flood lights. But finally, at three am the speeches were done, the crowd had gone home, and he was free to head to the vault to store the Diamond and wash his hands of it's care.
He yawned, shuffling slightly as he walked down the dark hallway between the front doors and the limo that was waiting for him. The vault was a non nondescript building two blocks away, assumed by most to be an office complex for a group of accountants.
His guards were still at the front doors, the museum emptied before the ceremony started. The only people allowed inside were the official dignitaries, the museum personal, himself, his guards and the costumed actors that were hired to represent prominent era's in the stone's history.
But this deep in the Museum there was no one, everyone else restricted to the front offices and rooms of the museum. He stretched his arms, wincing at the pain in his bound wrist, giving it a rotation as he lifted the briefcase with his other hand.
A shadow fell across the floor and he frowned, releasing the briefcase to draw his gun, pulling the slide back to load a bullet. The weapon had been a birthday gift from his father, and he was remorseful to actually use such a beautiful piece in the course of duty, but it served him far better then his late model revolver. More bullets for one thing.
He raised the weapon, his cuffed hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small ladies make up compact. He flipped the latch with his thumbnail and used his teeth to adjust the hinge so that the compact was in a V before using it to peer around the corner ahead of him. His eyebrows drew together as he spotted the King Louis actor, wondering at the actor's intentions.
“You're not supposed to be back here.” he called. The actor turned and stared at the mirror, the gaze reflecting back to Saguru via the mirror. “What is your business?” the detective quired, not moving around the corner just yet, still unsure of the intentions of the intruder.
He was in a rough spot. No guard, the Hope Diamond strapped to his wrist, and a gun that he didn't want to fire into some guy who wondered back here for innocent reasons (or even not so innocent, he just didn't like shooting people).
The decision of what do to however, was taken out of his hands as the man moved, faster then Saguru would have thought for an overweight, middle aged man. The actor turned the corner and was in front of the teen before the gun was even halfway lowered.
Saguru's finger tightened on the trigger just as cuffed wrist was grabbed. A shoulder met his mid section and the blond was airborne, cursing as his wrist twisted in the man's grasp, a sharp crack punctuation the air, followed by Saguru's body slamming into the marble tiled floor.
Dizzy, vision swimming with fog Saguru tried to push himself up, crumbling as his broken wrist gave out beneath his weight. There was a metallic click and Saguru's eyes widened, staring up at the gun pointed at his forehead.
The far wider then normal barrel was a distinctively familiar object.
“I will cut off your wrist if I have to,” the actor said, his voice blank, neither heat nor cold colouring his words. The pair remained frozen, the words hovering before the actor knelt, jerking the wrist that was holding Saguru up, causing the teen to hit the floor, his jaw landing first, blood filling his mouth from his sliced tounge.
Flipping the boy over with rather relative ease, the actor switched wrists and studied the shiny silver handcuff bound to Saguru. The teen, not wishing to give up his charge so easily kicked out with his legs. There was a stumble, his wrist dropped as the would be thief jumped, back flipping away from the limb attempting to knock him down.
Saguru scooted backwards as fast as he could with an injured hand, eyes scanning wildly about before resting on his gun, part way across the room. He aimed his scooting in that direction, listening to the sounds of the thief standing.
“That wasn't very nice, Hakuba-kun.” the thief said and reached into his many clothing layers, pulling out what appeared to be a can of spray paint.
“It wasn't supposed to be, Kid-san.” Saguru growled, finally collapsing onto the floor, reaching desperately for his gun. His fingers slid over the cool metal and he struggled to grab a hold of it, just as it was kicked away from him. Saguru growled again and looked up, just in time to get a face full of bright pink sleeping glass.
The teen detective coughed for a moment before collapsing, eyes closed in sleep. Kid shook his head and straddled the teen's waist, finding it a better position to work from as he laid the broken wrist across Saguru's chest, pulling his lock pick set from his wig, working on the cuff that bound his prey to the teen.
“Really, Hakuba. You keep walking into these messes. First your own gas and now mine. One would think you would grow an immunity to it considering how many times I've doused you.” he said conversationally as he worked the lock.
He took his eyes off the cuff to study Saguru's sleeping face before returning his attention to the tricky lock. It finally snapped open and Kid smiled, licking his lips as he lifted the case. He leaned in and placed a big kiss against Saguru's cheek. “Someone as pretty as you should not put themselves in a situation where they could get hurt, Saguru-chan.” he whispered, licking Saguru's ear before standing. He fished around in his costume before pulling out a marker.
Kneeling again, he pushed Saguru's tie out of the way, opening the teen's shirt to bare his neck and upper chest, then, with painstaking effort, drew a small image of himself, holding a mini replica of the Hope Diamond.
He stood again, and set the briefcase on a display case of shrunken heads before pulling off his wig, cape, and the other various costuming layers purloined from the true King Louis actor. Each layer that came off revealed another layer that remained, until the teen was dressed in a simple white suit (and white tights, but they didn't' show).
He pulled a small hair dryer shaped object from the pile of clothing and studied the cealing above him before pressing the trigger. A grappling hook shot out, wrapping around one of the cealing support beams above the fourth floor. He grabbed the briefcase, then flipped a switch and pressed the trigger again, swallowing the scream that tried to come out as his body was suddenly jerked into air, almost smashing into the walls from the momentum and swinging motion as he flew diagonally.
Grabbing the fourth floor walkway railing, he halted his flight and retrieved the hook, tucking it on his belt before grabbing the hang glider harness and heading through the rooms to the waiting balcony.
-
Kaito groaned as his eyes opened and he sat up, yawning, staring around the basement bedroom in confusion. He didn't remember laying down, he didn't even remember coming downstairs. He remembered...
He remembered sitting down to his computer to catch up on some of the school work he had missed while he had been...away and then...nothing.
Nothing to explain why he was downstairs, in the secret room, in the hidden bedroom, nothing to explain why he was sore...
He was really, really starting to hate these black outs. At least he had the sense to lie down before it happened. Standing he headed through the bedroom and then the work room, smiling at his father's picture, gently brushing his fingers over the painting before pushing it open and stepping through, just as the living room phone rang.
“I've got it!” he called, pushing the painting shut and grabbing the handset. “Hello!” he said cheerily in English, heading through the kitchen, grabbing a pear on his way and kissing his mother's cheek, who swatted at him playfully.
“Kaito?! Oh thank the gods you're there! There's been an accident! Hakuba and dad are at the Emergency room!”
Kaito's mouth dropped open, almost losing the bite of pear he had taken. “Aoko? What happened? Is your father all right?” Kaito said, his mind waking up and revving up, trying to review all the possible injuries that could have happened to the two detectives. Sure the pair weren't his two favorite people at times, the whole out for his blood and monocle thing putting a damper on their relationships, but they WERE friends of sorts, and he didn't want to think of them in some of the situations their jobs could put them in.
That he sometimes put them in.
“Dad's fine, he's babysitting Hakuba.” Aoko said, calming down as she talked with her childhood friend. Kaito's voice could always sooth her at her most frazzled, just as it could enrage her in the same moment. Right now, she was glad it was soothing.
“What happened to Hakuba?” Kaito asked, his tone quite clearly saying the blond deserved it, even through they both knew that wasn't really what Kaito thought. But the rivalry was familiar and comforting in a time when their friend could be seriously injured.
“I don't know, I just know he got injured in the heist! No one will tell me ANYTHING and it's absolutely ridiculous! Last time the Kid pulled one of his stunts he was SHOT and now they tell me Hakuba's injured and they won't tell me how and I'm worried it might be bad and...”
Kaito's mind shut out Aoko's rambling, trying to connect invisible puzzle pieces with edges that refused to match up. Heist? WHAT heist? And what was this about Kid? He was Kid, Kid wasn't doing anything but currently eating a pear.
“Aoko...AOKO!”
“Huh? Oh, what?” she said, pausing in her rant, startled by the interruption.
“WHAT heist are you talking about? Haven't you seen the news or read the paper? Kaitou Kid sent out a notice a week ago. Everyone was so...HAPPY, if you can believe that, that he was going to steal something! Well, I guess they were happy he was alive, you know how they are. Anyway it was a really weird note and no one could figure it out, well, okay they had the time about, but no idea WHAT was being stolen so they couldn't figure out when and then...”
Kaito tried to listen, but honestly his mind was a group of screaming alarms right now, trying to figure out how a heist had been performed without his knowledge or permission. He would blame Jii, except for he KNEW the man wasn't even in the city at the time. Jii had gone to Hiroshima to pick up a new order of pink gas, this time scented with mango's, a specialty that one could ONLY get in that city, from a certain vendor. The elderly man was then going to swing by Kyoto and pick up a few bolts of silk from a long time acquaintance, who provided the material for all of his capes.
So who was running around using his name?!
“Aoko, what was targeted?” he asked, mind flipping over to the section of his brain that filed away information on jewels and their histories, wondering if it was something that would help or harm his reputation. His eyes cast idly around the living room as he thought of all the targets he had been thinking of before the accident, hoping it wasn't one of his top five.
“The Hope Diamond.” The girl said, at the same time Kaito's eyes rested on the Buddha statue on their alter in the den.
Where the blue diamond in question rested happily, the white diamond chain wrapped around the Buddha's neck. The statue looked quite happy to be sporting a new addition, pleased with the cursed jewel necklace.
“I...I'll head over to the hospital, give me a few minutes.” Kaito choked out and hung up just as Aoko had taken a breath to reply, eyes widening, almost to a terrified extreme as he stared at the stolen necklace. “MOM!” he screamed, turning and running for the kitchen, eager for answers.
-
The noises of the busy hospital were starting to irritate Saguru, causing his eye to twitch with each beep, each shrill laugh of the nurses. The forensics team had already come and gone, removing his dignity as they combed his hair into envelopes, removed his clothing for the trace labs to examine, and photographed his neck and wrists.
His gun was taken as well, not that it would help much, the chambered bullet had been removed for safety, but never fired, and as far as he knew, Kid hadn't touched it.
Once the evidence was removed for testing he was allowed to be treated, the deep blue cast around his hand and forearm a painful reminder that things had gone very, very wrong.
Nakamori was outside the room, ignoring the non smoking signs, puffing away as he fielded calls from the press and brass alike, covering Saguru as best he could. But the teen knew things were bad. He had been entrusted with the care of a national treasure and now it was gone, somewhere in Japan in the hands of a white clad thief. This was NOT going to reflect good on him, his fellow officers, or his country.
And he feared the reaction when the news hit England. He wouldn't get a job guarding a dog park, let alone that nice Inspector's job with Scotland Yard he had once dreamed of.
The teen sighed heavily, laying back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the emotions that just wanted him to break down and cry. He lifted his cast hand, staring at it, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
But it just DIDN'T make sense. If it hadn't been for all the evidence, he would have suspected an impostor. The whole fight was off, not only Kid's reactions but the injury, the threats...there was no hint of the playful, bouncing magician he knew inside the clothing of the thief. Nor were their hints of the performance minded, playful thief himself.
Just a blank slate.
It was as if...and Saguru felt like an idiot for even thinking it, as if everything that had once made Kid...Kid was locked away, missing. And the thief hadn't yet found things to replace those missing things. Everyone's personality is after all, defined by experience. The sum total of what we live through, creates who we are.
If you take away those things, you are left with an empty drawing board that needs to be filled back in again. Likes, desires, hatreds, friendships, all need to be formed and connected before the board fills in.
But people just didn't LOSE themselves. Even amnesiacs have their personalities, they just lack the memories that made up that personalities.
Something tickled at the back of Saguru's brain and he frowned, trying to connect the dots with that tickle, the connection weak and slippery as the tickle was not revealing itself into thought. He was distracted from this, however, when the door opened.
Raising his eyes, his eyebrow followed as he stared at the nervous magician in the doorway. “Do what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, watching Kaito warily, tucking his injured arm closer to his chest. He KNEW Kaito was Kid. He knew it just as well as he knew Watson or his parents. He just lacked the evidence to prove it.
So Kaito walking into his hospital room, so soon after being injured by the teens alter ego, was a bit nerve wracking.
“What, I can't come by and visit my favorite bumbling British detective?” Kaito asked with a grin, closing the door behind him, almost bouncing across the room as he set something on Saguru's head.
Saguru, proud not to flinch as the teen moved closer to him rolled his eyes up, trying to see what was on his head before reaching up and removing the object, looking at it. A bear...dressed as Sherlock Holmes.
Cute.
He gave Kaito a look, ignoring the boy's smile growing as he ticked the bear next to him in bed. “So what are you really hear for, Kuroba? You don't usually visit me.”
“You don't usually end up in the hospital,” Kaito countered, pulling up the visitor's chair, staring at Saguru before sighing. “So what happened?”
“You should know, seeing as how you where there,” Saguru said, allowing a bit of his anger and frustration peek through.
“Ah, but I wasn't.” Kaito said, not even bothering to correct Saguru's allusions to him being Kid. Either way, he HADN'T been there. “I was at home, resting comfortably. Ask my mother.”
“You are your mother's only son, she'd easily lie for you.” Saguru bit out before holding out his casted arm. “This, was the handiwork of 'Kid', who decided my wrist had gotten in his way and deserved to be twisted as an abnormal angle until it broke.”
Kaito's eyes widened and he winced in sympathetic pain, having his own run in with injured wrists recently. In fact, he had to wear a wrist brace starting yesterday after straining his wrist doing a back flip...well, that was the official story. It wounded better then saying he twisted it while trying to catch himself after falling down the stairs.
“Then it couldn't have been Kid!” Kaito said happily. “Remember, no one gets hurt, that's his deal. Well except him, obviously, but he wouldn't have hurt you just for a gem.”
“Hmm.” Saguru said after a moment. “Normally, I would agree with you, as rare as that situation is, except that it WAS him. The smell, the feel, the reactions, everything was the same. It was the same Kid I've been studying for two years now. The same Kid I've been chasing.”
Kaito shook his head as Saguru spoke. It COULDN'T have been the same Kid! He was the same Kid! And he did NOT break Saguru's wrist!
Saguru watched Kaito shake his head in fevered denial and leaned closer to the boy, though keeping his wrists far away. “Do you know something, Kaito, something that would make you so eager to deny my words? Some bit of information I wouldn't know that would prove, without a doubt, Kaitou Kid did not injure a consultant attached to the Kaitou Kid Task Force, a crime considering I was acting as a law enforcement officer at the time?” he asked, almost puring the words, quite sure he had a nice little trap for Kaito.
If he wanted the charge of assaulting an officer off Kid's record, Kaito would have to admit to being the man behind the monocle, and face the punishment as he was arrested. He would then of course have to provide an alibi for his whereabout, but he was sure Kaito would manage that.
If Kaito DIDN'T confess...a very, very serious charge was added to the long line of Kid's record.
It was a very nice catch twenty two and Saguru was rather proud of his handiwork. Either way, Kid would pay, if he was caught now or caught later, and the bit of pain was worth it if Kid was convicted for a crime that would get him REAL time, not just grand thefts.
“I...I've gotta go!” Kaito said, making a show of checking his watch and standing. “You need your rest, I'll send another present with Aoko when she brings dinner for you and her father.” he said, trying to regain his infamous poker face. He hadn't needed it in so long and now, as things were going to hell, it seemed to refuse to snap into place.
He fled the hospital room, though covered his fleeing by walking casually, mind a whirl, though the main question of 'what the fuck is going on?!' swirled about repeatedly.
TBC
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