Four Things That Never Happened To Nakamori Aoko: Scenario 2
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Four Things That Never Happened To Nakamori Aoko
by windtear
raye_j@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: 'Magic Kaito' is copyright Aoyama Gosho and Shogakukan, not me.
Scenario II: A Shift in Shadows
Adjusting the hat-brim, the girl who had been (and come the dawn would again be, probably) Nakamori Aoko rolled her shoulders and pulled a face to loosen her facial muscles as she stood in the dark shadow of the museum. It would not do to be seen frowning, after all. Even if it was all she wanted to do, sometimes.
It had been a hard realization to make, that ‘right’ did not automatically equal ‘fair’. It was almost as shattering as the idea that ‘truth’ and ‘honour’ were not the same either. Although both had paled into insignificance against the pain she had felt when her world cracked and she had finally understood that ‘justice’ and ‘the law’ were not the same thing.
Sometimes she hated the idea of what she had become, but there really was no other option. The police were at a standstill, and Minako’s killers were still walking the streets. Aoko discounted the fact that her friend had bought and taken the drugs herself; the ones that sold them to her, knowing they were selling death, were as or more responsible for her death. Her diary had skimmed over the ‘men in black’ that the police apparently could not find, and that Aoko’s own examination of the case indicated would likely walk away scot-free.
These ‘men in black’ seemed to crop up an awful lot in the unsolved cases file her father had back at the police station. She still remembered the first time she had heard of them, when, as a very young child, she had cried as she said goodbye to her very best friend who was moving away. Kaito-kun had cried too, and told her, pinky-swearing her to secrecy, that he and Kuroba-ojisan and Kuroba-obasan were moving because some bad men in black were chasing Kuroba-ojisan. And now they were active again, flooding the streets with drugs, running gangs, and suddenly thieves dressed in black were starting to hit museums housing famous jewels.
/The Men In Black have taken away too many of my friends./
She’d always been good at gymnastics, and Kuroba-ojisan had taught her a few performance tricks before being driven away. That, and an old legend, would start her off. The white tuxedo came from the attic, out of a chest of her father’s old clothes. The blue dress shirt, white gloves, red tie and white loafers were easily purchased at various stores around the area, and she had found the cloak and white top hat at a costume shop. She’d dropped the elegantly-calligraphed notice on her father’s desk two days earlier when his back had been turned. He’d disregarded it then. He wouldn’t next time. And neither would her true prey.
The girl who had been Nakamori Aoko shook her shoulders, settling her cloak….
… And the Kaitou Kid stepped out into the moonlight.
Four Things That Never Happened To Nakamori Aoko
by windtear
raye_j@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: 'Magic Kaito' is copyright Aoyama Gosho and Shogakukan, not me.
Scenario II: A Shift in Shadows
Adjusting the hat-brim, the girl who had been (and come the dawn would again be, probably) Nakamori Aoko rolled her shoulders and pulled a face to loosen her facial muscles as she stood in the dark shadow of the museum. It would not do to be seen frowning, after all. Even if it was all she wanted to do, sometimes.
It had been a hard realization to make, that ‘right’ did not automatically equal ‘fair’. It was almost as shattering as the idea that ‘truth’ and ‘honour’ were not the same either. Although both had paled into insignificance against the pain she had felt when her world cracked and she had finally understood that ‘justice’ and ‘the law’ were not the same thing.
Sometimes she hated the idea of what she had become, but there really was no other option. The police were at a standstill, and Minako’s killers were still walking the streets. Aoko discounted the fact that her friend had bought and taken the drugs herself; the ones that sold them to her, knowing they were selling death, were as or more responsible for her death. Her diary had skimmed over the ‘men in black’ that the police apparently could not find, and that Aoko’s own examination of the case indicated would likely walk away scot-free.
These ‘men in black’ seemed to crop up an awful lot in the unsolved cases file her father had back at the police station. She still remembered the first time she had heard of them, when, as a very young child, she had cried as she said goodbye to her very best friend who was moving away. Kaito-kun had cried too, and told her, pinky-swearing her to secrecy, that he and Kuroba-ojisan and Kuroba-obasan were moving because some bad men in black were chasing Kuroba-ojisan. And now they were active again, flooding the streets with drugs, running gangs, and suddenly thieves dressed in black were starting to hit museums housing famous jewels.
/The Men In Black have taken away too many of my friends./
She’d always been good at gymnastics, and Kuroba-ojisan had taught her a few performance tricks before being driven away. That, and an old legend, would start her off. The white tuxedo came from the attic, out of a chest of her father’s old clothes. The blue dress shirt, white gloves, red tie and white loafers were easily purchased at various stores around the area, and she had found the cloak and white top hat at a costume shop. She’d dropped the elegantly-calligraphed notice on her father’s desk two days earlier when his back had been turned. He’d disregarded it then. He wouldn’t next time. And neither would her true prey.
The girl who had been Nakamori Aoko shook her shoulders, settling her cloak….
… And the Kaitou Kid stepped out into the moonlight.