Otaku

By socchan

Nakamori Aoko rapped on the door to her best friend's house and waited. After about a minute with no answer, she tried again. "Kaito!" she called out. "I know you're in there. I need help with my homework." Frustrated with the lack of response, Aoko opened the door and walked inside, only mildly surprised that it wasn't locked.

Aoko felt little guilt for coming in uninvited. For the past several years she and Kaito had all but lived at one another's houses. She even had her own key and a pair of slippers waiting for her just inside the door. "Kaito?" she called out again. "It's time for our study session!"

"I'll be there in a minute!" came the muffled response.

Ah, Aoko reasoned, Bathroom. No wonder he didn't hear me. Idly, she wandered through the house, noticing a note from Kaito's mother on the kitchen table explaining that she was out shopping and would be back later tonight, so don't wait up for her Kaito, dear. And that explains where his mother is…

"I'll just go ahead and get started," Aoko called back, and made her way to the den.

Letting her backpack hit the floor with a small thud, Aoko glanced around the room, taking in familiar surroundings: the television, the bookshelves, the portrait of Kaito's father ever so slightly ajar… Wait a minute. Aoko backtracked over that particular thought. There was no reason she could think of that the picture would be ajar.

Aoko stepped closer to examine it, and was quite surprised when it swung open at her gentle touch. Curiosity getting the better of her, Aoko stepped through and looked around.

She stood at the top of a stairway leading down into a room full of Kaitou Kid gear. Blueprints, gadgets, even a car for goodness' sake, it was all but bursting at the seams with phantom thief paraphernalia. Aoko took it all in with a sort of numb shock, and the gears in her head, slowly, began to turn.

All this stuff, all the times that Kaito went missing, coincidence upon coincidence upon coincidence all piled up in her mind and started to make sense.

Kuroba Kaito was Kaitou Kid

But that means he's been lying to me…

Well, there are obviously good reasons for him not telling me, starting with my father.

And he steals things.

And then returns them. And I don't know why he does either one.

And the police are after him.

Well, after the Kid at any rate, which more or less adds up to the same thing.

But I hate the Kid! I hate him, I really do!

Don't I?

And, if Kid and Kaito are the same thing, does that mean I hate Kaito, too?

And if I do, or if I don't, what does that mean exactly? For him, for me, for both of us…

…

I'm not ready to think about this just yet.

Well, I have to do something about it.

Why couldn't there be another explanation?

And Nakamori Aoko stood there, eyes glazed over slightly, as defense mechanisms took hold of her (again).

Kuroba Kaito strolled cheerily into the den, ready for a long refreshing study session (translation: ready to taunt Aoko over homework until she inevitably gave up and went for the mop, forgetting about studying until entirely too much time had passed). He looked around the room for Aoko, but paused when something seemed off.

Ah, that was it; the door to the secret room was open. And there was Aoko, standing right inside it, too. Kaito wondered how much he could scare her by sneaking up on her and tapping her shoulder before his brain caught up with his thoughts.

Kaito swallowed. Loudly. "Um, Aoko…?"

Aoko turned to face him, looking very peeved. "Really, Kaito. I knew you were a Kid fan, but this is ridiculous! A whole secret room dedicated to him?" She sighed, disgustedly. "Otaku…"

Kaito sweatdropped.

—Fin—

I read in a reference book of sorts (I don't recall the title, as it has been a few years) that the actual meaning of 'otaku' is 'house', and refers to people who spend all of their time at home obsessing over the minutiae of a series, and thus the Japanese concept of 'otaku' is quite a bit different from the American understanding of it. Aoko, being who she is, would probably come to such conclusions upon finding the hidden room if she did not already know about Kid. (It's a very widely used Freudian defense mechanism, rationalization, in which one comes up for more socially acceptable explanations for otherwise unacceptable behaviors. In this fic, for example, being an Otaku is at least slightly more acceptable to Aoko than being a Kaitou. Yes, I know, too much Psych.)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Completely Unnecessary Omake:

Letting her backpack hit the floor with a small thud, Aoko glanced around the room, taking in familiar surroundings: the television, the bookshelves, the portrait of Kaito's father ever so slightly ajar… Wait a minute. Aoko backtracked over that particular thought. There was no reason she could think of that the picture would suddenly be of a jar instead of Kuroba Toichi.

(The author would like to apologize, as she was raised on bad puns, and realizes that not everyone was.)