Fanfic, non-challenge, angst-fest!
Title: Acceptance (Part 2)
Author: Me
Word Count: 2,800-ish
Rating: PG13/T for violent themes
Disclaimer: The characters of Magic Kaitou and Detective Conan are Gosho Aoyama's, not mine.
Characters/Pairings: The main casts of Detective Conan and Magic Kaitou
Summary: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. Everyone is different when it comes to handling this sort of thing.
Early morning at the Mouri Detective Agency was quiet. Sunrise had barely begun as Kogoro sat, a can of Asahi beer sitting on the table in front of him. He could barely hear the sound of the shower as the water streamed against the wall. The sound only lasted for about five minutes until it abruptly stopped.
That was when Kogoro put his head down. Not to sleep, but to just… His only daughter was twenty-two. Twenty-two, but gone nonetheless. It was cruel, too cruel to be real. When he received a phone call late last night from a choked up Megure-keibu, he knew something was terribly wrong. However, he never dared to fathom… this was truly his worst nightmare.
The door slid open and out stepped Shinichi, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. Kogoro immediately sat up, hearing the presence in the room. Shinichi strode to the table where he left his keys and cell phone, and pocketed them in his pants. “Thanks,” Shinichi mumbled to him.
“Already going, Shinichi?” Kogoro stood. “Give me a min--.”
“No,” Shinichi cut him in a tone he never used before.
Kogoro immediately took it personally. “Don’t you dare--! She’s my daughter!” Kogoro could feel his insides jumble up. Guilt, anger, pain, resentment… the tears in his red eyes wanted to break free again.
“Occhan,” Shinichi’s voice spoke with a softer tone. “I know you want to help but you have something else to deal with,” and he pointed to Ran’s open bedroom door.
Kogoro’s eyes followed and he understood. He swallowed the lump developing in his throat and quickly wiped his eyes. “Alright. I’ll join you later.”
Shinichi said nothing else, only to leave in a sudden haste. Kogoro straightened his robe, tightening the belt as he reluctantly made his way to his daughter’s room. A part of him expected to see Ran there; she spent twenty-some years of her life there until she married and moved away to the Kudo mansion. She would often come home for a visit; he would arrive home and see her bedroom door open, with her inside, dusting her room clean. However, this time she was not there, but instead his wife.
The fact that Ran would never show her face again crushed him. He wiped the tears that escaped his eyes again and called to his wife. “Eri…”
His estranged wife had spent the night over. Not much sleep was done, just sitting and holding one another. But still, he was grateful to her company.
Eri was seated at the foot of the bed, a framed photo of a young couple at Tropical Land sitting on her lap. “Oh, Anata…” she wiped her wet cheeks clean of tears. “You haven’t slept yet?”
Kogoro shook his head. He watched Eri return the photo frame on the desk, adjusting it to the exact angle Ran kept it at. She then proceeded to straighten the bed covers where she sat, clearing the sheet of wrinkles. “Me, neither,” Eri spoke as she joined him in the doorway. “Did Shinichi-kun leave already?”
“Aa…” was all Kogoro said.
Eri nodded, biting her lip, trying to keep her knees stable. She felt so tired but she could not bring herself to sleep. “We should have breakfast.”
“Aa…” he said again, his arms crossed this time. However, no one made a move towards the kitchen and they continued to stand in the doorway to their daughter’s room. For a moment, Kogoro’s eyes scanned the room of all the pictures, trophies and certificates his daughter obtained through her life. He was so very proud of his daughter; she was such a good girl… so why? In his line of work, there have been many innocent victims. However, this cut it… this broke it.
“Anata,” Eri asked, her eyes to the dining table. “Aren’t you going to drink that?”
Kogoro’s head turned to the said table, spotting the Asahi can. “No.”
“It’s going to get warm if you leave it out.”
“I know, but…” Kogoro felt his insides shake and the tears started to flow again. “… but… she always told me not to drink so much.” He backed up against the doorframe, burying his eyes in his palm. “Our baby, she’s… she’s…”
Eri’s tears matched Kogoro’s as they pulled each other in an embrace, trying to find some way, any way, to fill the void they felt in their chests.
But they knew that emptiness would never go away.
Megure and Takagi could not move the moment they entered the room. The foresnsics team already started their analysis, dusting, taking pictures and so forth. The scene brought tears to both men’s eyes. They had grown fond of Ran over the years, that kind young woman with such a generous heart. And to see her like this, sitting upright on the plush chair, eyes staring into nothing… “Please,” Takagi choked, “be careful.”
The working men paused for a moment, and then nodded. They had seen the victim before, ran into her while her father solved many cases. She was the daughterof “The Sleeping Kogoro” and the wife of “Kudo, the Eastern Detective.” She was also a dear friend of Megure and his unit; they continued their job with an air of extra care and caution.
“Keibu-san,” an officer called Megure. “Kudo-san is in the other room.”
Megure nodded and was followed by Takagi to the adjacent lounge. There sat Shinichi between two other people; Agasa sat on his right, an arm over his shoulders and the young girl Ai sat to his left. “Kudo-kun…” Megure could not think of what to say at first, except, “My… my deepest condolenses. Ran-kun was like… like family…” he could not bring himself to say anymore. Behind him, Takagi tried to remain standing, gripping his notepad and pen in one hand, while wiping his own tears with the other.
Ai sat quietly, her eyes glassy. A tiny tear fell but she did not wipe it away. Instead, she clutched Shinichi’s left hand with both of her own.
Megure cleared his throat of the knots. “I need to follow standard protocol, Kudo-kun. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” came Shinichi’s shaking voice. “I know.” He looked up, revealing his red eyes and blotchy cheeks, all stained with fresh tears.
“Where… where were you before…?”
“I was with Kuroba Kaito. We had a drink at the coffeehouse near the university. We both left at the same time at 10pm and I went straight home to…to…” The tears in Shinichi’s eyes started again, and he bowed his head, hiding his face from everyone. Agasa’s lips trembled as his tears finally broke; he pulled Shinichi closer.
Megure nodded, turning away for a moment, trying to gather his composure. Takagi left his long ago, sobbing into his sleeve.
Shinichi wiped his eyes again and looked up. His throat dried when he spotted the body bag being wheeled out of his front door by three men.
--
Jii walked inside to find a dark room. The curtains were drawn closed and no light illuminated the space. He could barely make out his young master’s shape, curled up with his knees to his chest, eyes staring out into space. “Kaito-bocchama,” he called out. “I brought you some breakfast.” He placed the tray down at the foot of the bed, in front of the young master.
Kaito, still dressed in the same attire a last night, sat against the headboard of his old room, knees to his chest, eyes staring blankly to the corner of the room. His eyes, the usual bright blue orbs, had turned into fogs of silent pain.
Late last night, Jii received a call from a police officer, explaining the situation at Kaito’s apartment. When the elderly man arrived at the police station to take him to his mother’s, Kaito was there, sitting at Nakamori’s desk, with the same expression on his face.
Truly, the gods were cruel. To murder his soon-to-be-wife and set her up in such a state… Jii could remember the day the young master proposed to his childhood friend. It had the sparkle and grandeur that was signature of a magician, signature of the Kuroba family. And when she accepted, Kaito was on cloud nine for a week. He had been waiting for so long to spend the rest of his life with her. And now for this to happen… Jii too felt heavy. The girl was special; her spunk and bright smile found its way to Jii’s heart. She was to be part of the family. And after the loss of his father, to lose his love as well…
Jii stepped back and watched with sad eyes as Kaito’s lips trembled slightly. “Please, Kaito-bocchama, try to eat.” The young man did not make a move; Jii felt as if that were his cue to let him be. “I’ll leave you be…”
“Aoko…” came a soft whisper.
Jii stopped at the door when he heard Kaito’s voice. He turned to a sight that broke his heart. Kaito, eyes still towards the corner, began to cry tears, one right after the other. Kaito continued to whisper her name until his voice was not there anymore; even then, he quietly mouthed her name.
Jii noticed a chair sitting against the same corner Kaito was staring at. A white tuxedo was neatly draped over the chair, pressed and ready to wear.
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of Kaito’s life.
Aoko was sitting at her desk chair, writing in a small journal. The blue notebook was open right down the middle as she scribbled down her thoughts onto the pages.
Aoko kept telling herself how she was such a lucky girl. And it was true; marrying the boy who she had known since childhood, whom she loved since adolescence… it was a dream come true.
She finished her last entry that night, the last entry she signed as “Nakamori Aoko”. The following day would be her wedding to Kaito; the thought made her smile. She turned to the next page and began writing “Kuroba Aoko” on each of the lines. It felt natural to her, she mused.
Aoko turned on her chair and gazed at her dress, hanging proudly in her open closet. Through the clear plastic covering, she marveled at the beadwork on the off-shoulder sleeves and the tulle that filled the skirt. Carefully, she took it out of the cover and slowly slipped on the dress. She turned to the nearby full-view mirror, just to check if anything was wrong.
It was a sight to behold. Aoko felt choked up at the sight of herself, wearing the perfect gown, getting married to the perfect…
Aoko stopped herself. Maybe not perfect… knowing, he would take the opportunity to amuse himself if the ceremony would drag on for too long. He made roses pop out of Heiji’s ears during the Kudo nuptials… he just might make doves erupt from her father’s suit at their own wedding.
A smile found its way to her face as she slipped the veil and tiara on her head. With Kaito, there was never a dull moment.
She continued to finish her dress off with her white gloves. As she stood in her full gown, her eyes began to well up with tears. “I, Nakamori Aoko…” she spoke softly. The fluttering feelings in her stomach would not stop. Her nerves could not wait for tomorrow; she wished she could marry Kaito now. She wanted to see his face when he saw her in her dress, be completely awestruck and fall in love with her all over again.
Aoko proceeded to twirl around her room, feeling the dress move with each spin. “Can you see me, Okaa-san? I’m happy,” Aoko whispered to the air, hoping the spirits would capture it.
Her private dance was interrupted when she heard footsteps at the front door. “Otou-san’s home already?” She stepped out of her room and headed to the front door.
--
Shizuka stirred the miso paste in the boiling water. She overmeasured the paste, an error caused by her shaking hands. It had been a full ten-some hours since dear Kazuha’s death, but even so, she could not shake the news. She turned the heat off and covered the pot.
She could hear her husband on the phone, speaking to Toyama right now. She waited patiently for him to finish the conversation as she began to chop a few radishes into bite-size pieces.
After the body was taken away, Heizo dragged his son home while Toyama left to continue at the office. Heiji protested that he needed to immediately start the investigation, but Heizo kept him down with a large amount of brute force. Shizuka was shocked to see her husband carrying in their unconscious son through the front door late last night.
Shizuka turned when Heizo entered the kitchen. “What did he say?”
Heizo nodded. “He’ll stay here.”
“Good. I’ll help him with her preparations, if he needs me.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Heizo pulled out a stool from the island counter and took a seat. He cradled his face in his palms and released a deep sigh. Shizuka placed a cup of hot tea in front of him and joined him at the table. “Breakfast will be ready soon.” She watched as her husband took a drink. “Darling, when Hei-chan wakes up, he may be mad at you.”
“I know, but I’ll take that risk.” Heizo took another drink. “You know Heiji when he’s too passionate; his better judgment is clouded. But last night… Shizuka…” he shook his head. “It was horrible. For a while, he couldn’t see she was gone. And when he finally did, he was a mess. I couldn’t let him investigate with the team. Not yet, at least.”
“So you will let him?”
“If he wants too. And when he’s ready.”
Shizuka nodded. “Oh, poor Kazuha-chan…” she sighed quietly, quickly wiping her falling tears. She loved the girl as her own, ever since Kazuha and Heiji became friends. They were always together; Shizuka knew early on how they would end up. When Heiji approached his mother on some advice concerning the girl, she was thrilled. She had always wanted Kazuha as an official part of the family, and if Heiji--.
Suddenly, some clattering upstairs interrupted Shizuka’s thoughts. It was followed by footsteps, then the dropping of objects onto the floor. “That’s Hei-chan’s room.”
Heizo stood and moved towards the stairs, his wife following close by. They made it up the stairs, knocking on Heiji’s bedroom door. “Hei-chan? What are you doing?” More shuffling was heard and she knocked again. “Hei--!”
Heiji threw his door open and walked past them, heading to a drawer chest that sat in the hallway. Each drawer flew open and Heiji sifted through each one, slamming it closed, and moved to the next. “Where are they?” he asked feverishly.
“What?” Heizo asked.
“The pictures, the newspaper clippings… they’re not in my room!” Heiji slammed the last drawer closed. “Where did you put them?!” He turned to his parents, finally showing his face, his bloodshot and tired eyes.
“I put them away--,” Shizuka spoke.
“Why?!” Heiji raised his voice. “I need those!!”
“What did you take from his room?” Heizo asked his wife.
“Any pictures that had her in it,” Shizuka answered as Heiji, for whatever reason, ransacked the bathroom. “I thought that maybe it would be less painful for him to see her face… at least, at this moment.” A shower of plastic bottles fell to the floor. “I supposed wrong.” Shizuka crossed the hall and entered the master bedroom. She opened her armoire and pulled out a small box that sat at the bottom. She took the box with her and found Heiji still in the bathroom, still fishing in the cabinets. She handed him the cardboard box. He snatched it from her and opened it immediately, verifying its contents. “I was trying to help you,” Shizuka said with a shake in her voice she was not used to hearing.
Heiji froze to silence as he gazed in the box and picked out a photo from the top of the collection. It was of he and Kazuha at his new apartment, during his housewarming party. They were seated on his couch, his arm around her, both people grinning at the camera. “Mom…” he spoke. Tears pooled in his eyes and a few found their way down his cheeks. “This is how Kazuha is supposed to look like. Not…”
“Hei-chan…”
“Not cold, not… dead!” His tears fell faster. “Kazuha’s supposed to be like this!” he exclaimed as he shook the photo in his hand. “Kazuha… she’s bright, tough, loves to eat cake… she’s too fussy to be dead!” he exclaimed and crumbled to the floor.
Tears found their way to Shizuka’s own face. She fell to her knees and pulled her son into an embrace, trying to comfort him any way she could.
“That’s not how my Kazuha’s like,” he muttered against her shoulders as he continued to cry. “She’s not…”
To see the one he loved, her face static, cold and lifeless, must have been a sight he could not forget.
Heiji could not believe his luck. He had left late afternoon, right before the store closed. He arrived in the neck of time to pick up his purchase and walked out the door with it. “She’s gonna love it,” he told himself.
However, he did not anticipate running into a murder case on his way home. It could not be helped, but luckily, he did not take too long. Heiji had to start cooking dinner. Then, he would ask her to come over.
It was his birthday, so she would not refuse him, right? With each step to his apartment, the butterflies began to hatch in his stomach.
Heiji opened his apartment door and heard the sounds of the TV. He entered the living room to see the TV on and Kazuha sitting on the couch. Immediately, a flutter of nervous butterflies filled his stomach. “Hey, Kazuha, I was about to call you. So did you watch the game, who won, oh wait there’s the score, great, so you hungry, want dinner?” he said in one jumble. He turned his back to her and headed to the kitchen. ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ he said in his mind. ‘If you screw this up, she’s gonna tell Nee-chan and then she’ll tell Kudo and somehow Kuroba will find out and you’ll never hear the end of it!’ Heiji threw his hands in his pockets and walked to her. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he sat beside her on the couch, as the TV showed recaps from the baseball game. His weight shifted her slightly but she did not stir from her position. She sat at the end of his couch, right arm on the armrest, propping her head up. He only noticed then that she was wearing his favorite jacket and cap. The sight made him laugh. “Getting in the spirit of the game, aren’t we?”
Kazuha did not stir from her position.
“Are you asleep?” Heiji pulled his left hand out from his pocket. With his right, he lifted the hat up, “Geez, why the…” His words and blood ran cold and his eyes grew wide as he stared at Kazuha’s blank eyes. His mind immediately panicked and he grabbed her by the shoulders, gently nudging her. “Kaz… Kazuha… snap out of it. This isn’t funny…” he began to shake her, hoping to snap her out of the stupor she was under. The jacket that was draped over her shoulders slipped, revealing the dark crimson staining her breast. He finally snapped and screamed Kazuha’s name, shaking her, not believing that the skin underneath his fingers was cold. The tears gathered and poured down his face as he continued to hold onto her, all while staring at the dull color that made her once green eyes and at her red stained crest that should have been moving up and down with breath.
The small velvet box that he was holding earlier was now forgotten on her lap. He continued to call out her name but no answer was received.
Kazuha was dead.
...tsuzuku.
---
I hope I beta-ed everything correctly.
Link to first part.
Concept Art: Aoko
Concept Art: Kazuha
Author: Me
Word Count: 2,800-ish
Rating: PG13/T for violent themes
Disclaimer: The characters of Magic Kaitou and Detective Conan are Gosho Aoyama's, not mine.
Characters/Pairings: The main casts of Detective Conan and Magic Kaitou
Summary: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. Everyone is different when it comes to handling this sort of thing.
Early morning at the Mouri Detective Agency was quiet. Sunrise had barely begun as Kogoro sat, a can of Asahi beer sitting on the table in front of him. He could barely hear the sound of the shower as the water streamed against the wall. The sound only lasted for about five minutes until it abruptly stopped.
That was when Kogoro put his head down. Not to sleep, but to just… His only daughter was twenty-two. Twenty-two, but gone nonetheless. It was cruel, too cruel to be real. When he received a phone call late last night from a choked up Megure-keibu, he knew something was terribly wrong. However, he never dared to fathom… this was truly his worst nightmare.
The door slid open and out stepped Shinichi, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. Kogoro immediately sat up, hearing the presence in the room. Shinichi strode to the table where he left his keys and cell phone, and pocketed them in his pants. “Thanks,” Shinichi mumbled to him.
“Already going, Shinichi?” Kogoro stood. “Give me a min--.”
“No,” Shinichi cut him in a tone he never used before.
Kogoro immediately took it personally. “Don’t you dare--! She’s my daughter!” Kogoro could feel his insides jumble up. Guilt, anger, pain, resentment… the tears in his red eyes wanted to break free again.
“Occhan,” Shinichi’s voice spoke with a softer tone. “I know you want to help but you have something else to deal with,” and he pointed to Ran’s open bedroom door.
Kogoro’s eyes followed and he understood. He swallowed the lump developing in his throat and quickly wiped his eyes. “Alright. I’ll join you later.”
Shinichi said nothing else, only to leave in a sudden haste. Kogoro straightened his robe, tightening the belt as he reluctantly made his way to his daughter’s room. A part of him expected to see Ran there; she spent twenty-some years of her life there until she married and moved away to the Kudo mansion. She would often come home for a visit; he would arrive home and see her bedroom door open, with her inside, dusting her room clean. However, this time she was not there, but instead his wife.
The fact that Ran would never show her face again crushed him. He wiped the tears that escaped his eyes again and called to his wife. “Eri…”
His estranged wife had spent the night over. Not much sleep was done, just sitting and holding one another. But still, he was grateful to her company.
Eri was seated at the foot of the bed, a framed photo of a young couple at Tropical Land sitting on her lap. “Oh, Anata…” she wiped her wet cheeks clean of tears. “You haven’t slept yet?”
Kogoro shook his head. He watched Eri return the photo frame on the desk, adjusting it to the exact angle Ran kept it at. She then proceeded to straighten the bed covers where she sat, clearing the sheet of wrinkles. “Me, neither,” Eri spoke as she joined him in the doorway. “Did Shinichi-kun leave already?”
“Aa…” was all Kogoro said.
Eri nodded, biting her lip, trying to keep her knees stable. She felt so tired but she could not bring herself to sleep. “We should have breakfast.”
“Aa…” he said again, his arms crossed this time. However, no one made a move towards the kitchen and they continued to stand in the doorway to their daughter’s room. For a moment, Kogoro’s eyes scanned the room of all the pictures, trophies and certificates his daughter obtained through her life. He was so very proud of his daughter; she was such a good girl… so why? In his line of work, there have been many innocent victims. However, this cut it… this broke it.
“Anata,” Eri asked, her eyes to the dining table. “Aren’t you going to drink that?”
Kogoro’s head turned to the said table, spotting the Asahi can. “No.”
“It’s going to get warm if you leave it out.”
“I know, but…” Kogoro felt his insides shake and the tears started to flow again. “… but… she always told me not to drink so much.” He backed up against the doorframe, burying his eyes in his palm. “Our baby, she’s… she’s…”
Eri’s tears matched Kogoro’s as they pulled each other in an embrace, trying to find some way, any way, to fill the void they felt in their chests.
But they knew that emptiness would never go away.
Megure and Takagi could not move the moment they entered the room. The foresnsics team already started their analysis, dusting, taking pictures and so forth. The scene brought tears to both men’s eyes. They had grown fond of Ran over the years, that kind young woman with such a generous heart. And to see her like this, sitting upright on the plush chair, eyes staring into nothing… “Please,” Takagi choked, “be careful.”
The working men paused for a moment, and then nodded. They had seen the victim before, ran into her while her father solved many cases. She was the daughterof “The Sleeping Kogoro” and the wife of “Kudo, the Eastern Detective.” She was also a dear friend of Megure and his unit; they continued their job with an air of extra care and caution.
“Keibu-san,” an officer called Megure. “Kudo-san is in the other room.”
Megure nodded and was followed by Takagi to the adjacent lounge. There sat Shinichi between two other people; Agasa sat on his right, an arm over his shoulders and the young girl Ai sat to his left. “Kudo-kun…” Megure could not think of what to say at first, except, “My… my deepest condolenses. Ran-kun was like… like family…” he could not bring himself to say anymore. Behind him, Takagi tried to remain standing, gripping his notepad and pen in one hand, while wiping his own tears with the other.
Ai sat quietly, her eyes glassy. A tiny tear fell but she did not wipe it away. Instead, she clutched Shinichi’s left hand with both of her own.
Megure cleared his throat of the knots. “I need to follow standard protocol, Kudo-kun. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” came Shinichi’s shaking voice. “I know.” He looked up, revealing his red eyes and blotchy cheeks, all stained with fresh tears.
“Where… where were you before…?”
“I was with Kuroba Kaito. We had a drink at the coffeehouse near the university. We both left at the same time at 10pm and I went straight home to…to…” The tears in Shinichi’s eyes started again, and he bowed his head, hiding his face from everyone. Agasa’s lips trembled as his tears finally broke; he pulled Shinichi closer.
Megure nodded, turning away for a moment, trying to gather his composure. Takagi left his long ago, sobbing into his sleeve.
Shinichi wiped his eyes again and looked up. His throat dried when he spotted the body bag being wheeled out of his front door by three men.
--
Jii walked inside to find a dark room. The curtains were drawn closed and no light illuminated the space. He could barely make out his young master’s shape, curled up with his knees to his chest, eyes staring out into space. “Kaito-bocchama,” he called out. “I brought you some breakfast.” He placed the tray down at the foot of the bed, in front of the young master.
Kaito, still dressed in the same attire a last night, sat against the headboard of his old room, knees to his chest, eyes staring blankly to the corner of the room. His eyes, the usual bright blue orbs, had turned into fogs of silent pain.
Late last night, Jii received a call from a police officer, explaining the situation at Kaito’s apartment. When the elderly man arrived at the police station to take him to his mother’s, Kaito was there, sitting at Nakamori’s desk, with the same expression on his face.
Truly, the gods were cruel. To murder his soon-to-be-wife and set her up in such a state… Jii could remember the day the young master proposed to his childhood friend. It had the sparkle and grandeur that was signature of a magician, signature of the Kuroba family. And when she accepted, Kaito was on cloud nine for a week. He had been waiting for so long to spend the rest of his life with her. And now for this to happen… Jii too felt heavy. The girl was special; her spunk and bright smile found its way to Jii’s heart. She was to be part of the family. And after the loss of his father, to lose his love as well…
Jii stepped back and watched with sad eyes as Kaito’s lips trembled slightly. “Please, Kaito-bocchama, try to eat.” The young man did not make a move; Jii felt as if that were his cue to let him be. “I’ll leave you be…”
“Aoko…” came a soft whisper.
Jii stopped at the door when he heard Kaito’s voice. He turned to a sight that broke his heart. Kaito, eyes still towards the corner, began to cry tears, one right after the other. Kaito continued to whisper her name until his voice was not there anymore; even then, he quietly mouthed her name.
Jii noticed a chair sitting against the same corner Kaito was staring at. A white tuxedo was neatly draped over the chair, pressed and ready to wear.
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of Kaito’s life.
Aoko was sitting at her desk chair, writing in a small journal. The blue notebook was open right down the middle as she scribbled down her thoughts onto the pages.
Aoko kept telling herself how she was such a lucky girl. And it was true; marrying the boy who she had known since childhood, whom she loved since adolescence… it was a dream come true.
She finished her last entry that night, the last entry she signed as “Nakamori Aoko”. The following day would be her wedding to Kaito; the thought made her smile. She turned to the next page and began writing “Kuroba Aoko” on each of the lines. It felt natural to her, she mused.
Aoko turned on her chair and gazed at her dress, hanging proudly in her open closet. Through the clear plastic covering, she marveled at the beadwork on the off-shoulder sleeves and the tulle that filled the skirt. Carefully, she took it out of the cover and slowly slipped on the dress. She turned to the nearby full-view mirror, just to check if anything was wrong.
It was a sight to behold. Aoko felt choked up at the sight of herself, wearing the perfect gown, getting married to the perfect…
Aoko stopped herself. Maybe not perfect… knowing, he would take the opportunity to amuse himself if the ceremony would drag on for too long. He made roses pop out of Heiji’s ears during the Kudo nuptials… he just might make doves erupt from her father’s suit at their own wedding.
A smile found its way to her face as she slipped the veil and tiara on her head. With Kaito, there was never a dull moment.
She continued to finish her dress off with her white gloves. As she stood in her full gown, her eyes began to well up with tears. “I, Nakamori Aoko…” she spoke softly. The fluttering feelings in her stomach would not stop. Her nerves could not wait for tomorrow; she wished she could marry Kaito now. She wanted to see his face when he saw her in her dress, be completely awestruck and fall in love with her all over again.
Aoko proceeded to twirl around her room, feeling the dress move with each spin. “Can you see me, Okaa-san? I’m happy,” Aoko whispered to the air, hoping the spirits would capture it.
Her private dance was interrupted when she heard footsteps at the front door. “Otou-san’s home already?” She stepped out of her room and headed to the front door.
--
Shizuka stirred the miso paste in the boiling water. She overmeasured the paste, an error caused by her shaking hands. It had been a full ten-some hours since dear Kazuha’s death, but even so, she could not shake the news. She turned the heat off and covered the pot.
She could hear her husband on the phone, speaking to Toyama right now. She waited patiently for him to finish the conversation as she began to chop a few radishes into bite-size pieces.
After the body was taken away, Heizo dragged his son home while Toyama left to continue at the office. Heiji protested that he needed to immediately start the investigation, but Heizo kept him down with a large amount of brute force. Shizuka was shocked to see her husband carrying in their unconscious son through the front door late last night.
Shizuka turned when Heizo entered the kitchen. “What did he say?”
Heizo nodded. “He’ll stay here.”
“Good. I’ll help him with her preparations, if he needs me.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Heizo pulled out a stool from the island counter and took a seat. He cradled his face in his palms and released a deep sigh. Shizuka placed a cup of hot tea in front of him and joined him at the table. “Breakfast will be ready soon.” She watched as her husband took a drink. “Darling, when Hei-chan wakes up, he may be mad at you.”
“I know, but I’ll take that risk.” Heizo took another drink. “You know Heiji when he’s too passionate; his better judgment is clouded. But last night… Shizuka…” he shook his head. “It was horrible. For a while, he couldn’t see she was gone. And when he finally did, he was a mess. I couldn’t let him investigate with the team. Not yet, at least.”
“So you will let him?”
“If he wants too. And when he’s ready.”
Shizuka nodded. “Oh, poor Kazuha-chan…” she sighed quietly, quickly wiping her falling tears. She loved the girl as her own, ever since Kazuha and Heiji became friends. They were always together; Shizuka knew early on how they would end up. When Heiji approached his mother on some advice concerning the girl, she was thrilled. She had always wanted Kazuha as an official part of the family, and if Heiji--.
Suddenly, some clattering upstairs interrupted Shizuka’s thoughts. It was followed by footsteps, then the dropping of objects onto the floor. “That’s Hei-chan’s room.”
Heizo stood and moved towards the stairs, his wife following close by. They made it up the stairs, knocking on Heiji’s bedroom door. “Hei-chan? What are you doing?” More shuffling was heard and she knocked again. “Hei--!”
Heiji threw his door open and walked past them, heading to a drawer chest that sat in the hallway. Each drawer flew open and Heiji sifted through each one, slamming it closed, and moved to the next. “Where are they?” he asked feverishly.
“What?” Heizo asked.
“The pictures, the newspaper clippings… they’re not in my room!” Heiji slammed the last drawer closed. “Where did you put them?!” He turned to his parents, finally showing his face, his bloodshot and tired eyes.
“I put them away--,” Shizuka spoke.
“Why?!” Heiji raised his voice. “I need those!!”
“What did you take from his room?” Heizo asked his wife.
“Any pictures that had her in it,” Shizuka answered as Heiji, for whatever reason, ransacked the bathroom. “I thought that maybe it would be less painful for him to see her face… at least, at this moment.” A shower of plastic bottles fell to the floor. “I supposed wrong.” Shizuka crossed the hall and entered the master bedroom. She opened her armoire and pulled out a small box that sat at the bottom. She took the box with her and found Heiji still in the bathroom, still fishing in the cabinets. She handed him the cardboard box. He snatched it from her and opened it immediately, verifying its contents. “I was trying to help you,” Shizuka said with a shake in her voice she was not used to hearing.
Heiji froze to silence as he gazed in the box and picked out a photo from the top of the collection. It was of he and Kazuha at his new apartment, during his housewarming party. They were seated on his couch, his arm around her, both people grinning at the camera. “Mom…” he spoke. Tears pooled in his eyes and a few found their way down his cheeks. “This is how Kazuha is supposed to look like. Not…”
“Hei-chan…”
“Not cold, not… dead!” His tears fell faster. “Kazuha’s supposed to be like this!” he exclaimed as he shook the photo in his hand. “Kazuha… she’s bright, tough, loves to eat cake… she’s too fussy to be dead!” he exclaimed and crumbled to the floor.
Tears found their way to Shizuka’s own face. She fell to her knees and pulled her son into an embrace, trying to comfort him any way she could.
“That’s not how my Kazuha’s like,” he muttered against her shoulders as he continued to cry. “She’s not…”
To see the one he loved, her face static, cold and lifeless, must have been a sight he could not forget.
Heiji could not believe his luck. He had left late afternoon, right before the store closed. He arrived in the neck of time to pick up his purchase and walked out the door with it. “She’s gonna love it,” he told himself.
However, he did not anticipate running into a murder case on his way home. It could not be helped, but luckily, he did not take too long. Heiji had to start cooking dinner. Then, he would ask her to come over.
It was his birthday, so she would not refuse him, right? With each step to his apartment, the butterflies began to hatch in his stomach.
Heiji opened his apartment door and heard the sounds of the TV. He entered the living room to see the TV on and Kazuha sitting on the couch. Immediately, a flutter of nervous butterflies filled his stomach. “Hey, Kazuha, I was about to call you. So did you watch the game, who won, oh wait there’s the score, great, so you hungry, want dinner?” he said in one jumble. He turned his back to her and headed to the kitchen. ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ he said in his mind. ‘If you screw this up, she’s gonna tell Nee-chan and then she’ll tell Kudo and somehow Kuroba will find out and you’ll never hear the end of it!’ Heiji threw his hands in his pockets and walked to her. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he sat beside her on the couch, as the TV showed recaps from the baseball game. His weight shifted her slightly but she did not stir from her position. She sat at the end of his couch, right arm on the armrest, propping her head up. He only noticed then that she was wearing his favorite jacket and cap. The sight made him laugh. “Getting in the spirit of the game, aren’t we?”
Kazuha did not stir from her position.
“Are you asleep?” Heiji pulled his left hand out from his pocket. With his right, he lifted the hat up, “Geez, why the…” His words and blood ran cold and his eyes grew wide as he stared at Kazuha’s blank eyes. His mind immediately panicked and he grabbed her by the shoulders, gently nudging her. “Kaz… Kazuha… snap out of it. This isn’t funny…” he began to shake her, hoping to snap her out of the stupor she was under. The jacket that was draped over her shoulders slipped, revealing the dark crimson staining her breast. He finally snapped and screamed Kazuha’s name, shaking her, not believing that the skin underneath his fingers was cold. The tears gathered and poured down his face as he continued to hold onto her, all while staring at the dull color that made her once green eyes and at her red stained crest that should have been moving up and down with breath.
The small velvet box that he was holding earlier was now forgotten on her lap. He continued to call out her name but no answer was received.
Kazuha was dead.
...tsuzuku.
---
I hope I beta-ed everything correctly.
Link to first part.
Concept Art: Aoko
Concept Art: Kazuha