Author's note: Don't own anything, blah, blah, blah… I don't actually think Gosho Aoyama would come and write English fics here.

Here's another fic about Kudo Yusaku… I like that character, don't know why. Could be a sequel to "Like Father, like son", but as this one is slightly AU, I just posted it as another oneshot.

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Today is his death's birthday.

Those words always struck me as absolutely meaningless. At first, being a writer, it was such an interesting sentence to study. Until then. Until that morning when I read in the papers that Kuroba Touichi had died in a tragic accident during one of his magician shows.

Kuroba Touichi. Or else, Kudo Touichi, my eldest brother.

So now I'm standing, ten years later, in front of his tomb.

Got no idea why I'm here. I didn't even go to the funeral, so that I could avoid embarrassing questions. And after so long a time spent chasing him as Kid, how could I have decently shown up? What for? Comforting his wife and child? I'm not even sure they knew about me.

I haven't though about our childhood in years. But now, in the silent cemetery, years and years of laughter and cries are coming back to commemorate.

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"Kudo! Kudo, come over here!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You, stop acting as if you didn't know I'm looking for your brother," the teacher pointed an accusative finger at me, "and you… you…" he had turned to Touichi, who was carelessly sitting on my desk, "don't you think you're going to escape!"

Touichi looked disconcerted at first, then grinned. "Why would I, sir?" he said with such a sarcastic voice everyone around knew he was openly thinking the teacher a baboon.

"You know perfectly why!" the professor stammered with rage. "You have no excuse, Kudo!"

"Come again, sir?" Touichi asked politely.

Students were beginning to gather around with interest. Nobody ever dared to play this insolently with the teachers but Kudo Touichi-kun. My brother looked around, as if interested, obviously delighted to have such an audience.

"Are you playing with me, Kudo?" the professor asked, shivering with anger.

"I wouldn't, sir," Touichi said, his lips twitching into a quick smirk.

"Better not. Now, what the reasons why you thought you were allowed to make an aviary of the teachers' room?" the teacher yelled.

Touichi frowned. "An aviary, sir?"

"There are two hundred pigeons up there!"

Half of he class burst out laughing. Touichi himself had an apologizing smile.

"All right," he said, as if thinking very quickly, "and what makes you think those pigeons are mine?"

The professor looked on the very edge of falling over. He, however, glared at my brother.

"You are the only crazy guy who breeds two hundred pigeons, Kudo!" he burst out. His hands, I noticed under he desk, were clenching to two very strong fists. More laughter came up meanwhile.

"Insulting your students," my brother said, his smile growing wider. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Before the teacher's punch had time to hit him – and it was coming fast -, he disappeared in a puff and a cloud of white smoke.

When it cleared, there were two more pigeons on the professor's head, quietly pecking at his hair.

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People always thought I was the eldest, because I was so much more calm and serious. Our parents didn't really care about what he was doing at school as long as he got good marks – which he always did, always wondered how. Even after the disastrous event of the two hundred pigeons in teachers' room, I was the only one who ever told him off.

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"Ahh, quit playing the big guy, Yuu-chan," my brother said, leaning over the desk where I was writing. "It was funny, admit it! You couldn't help chuckling at one time."

"I didn't," I said, glaring at him. "Besides, I'm not talking for the teacher – but you're going to be in trouble, Touichi. And the trouble is that you're always causing problems in my class. Is there no way you can let me work?"

"Is that what you're doing? Writing?" He bent, trying to see what I was scribbling. "You're only writing, bro."

"Only writing?" You want me to talk about your magic tricks, right?"

"All right, all right," he sat straight, laughing.

"Look," I said, putting my pen down, "I'm not blaming you or anything…"

"Sure you don't," he smirked.

"… But you're the eldest so people expect you to assume your responsibilities…"

"Blah blah blah," Touichi said with a snigger, and threw a Norwegian flag at me.

"Hey! Where did that came from?"

He looked down in his jeans' pocket, then inside his sleeves. "No idea."

I pointed at his front pocket. "What's in there?"

"Dunno… let's see…" he got out a long, very, very long, green and red scarf.

"Shouldn't have asked," I pouted, returning to my writing.

"Wait… it's not over… what's this? Oh, a ball… no, an egg… what do you think? egg or ball?" he asked, putting it before my nose.

I shot a glance at it. "It's an egg." I pushed him away." Dyed in red. Is it a real one?"

"Beats me… let's see…" he tossed it carelessly on my desk.

"Touichi!" I exclaimed, but the egg didn't break. I leaned against my chair, sighing.

My brother had that Cheshire cat-like grin again. "Okay, so what's left… this…" he got out another flag, a Swedish one this time, "this, gee, I had forgotten those…" he got out a pair of dice, "some cards…" he got a set of them, "hey, what's this?" he got out a big, white hat and monocle, "oh, it's from my old magician outfit… a– wouah! pigeon…" something white fluttered before my eyes, "and… what's that here for?" He frowned at the red rose he had just found.

"Touichi," I said. "Those dice are loaded."

"Well, of course they are," he said, not even looking at me. "I wouldn't be a magician if they weren't…"

He snapped his fingers, and the rose disappeared. At the same time, a white pigeon appeared from nowhere.

"This is cheating," I pouted.

"What did you expect from me, to do real magic?" he said with irritation. "They're tricks, Yuu-chan, not…" he pulled a tinsel out of his right sleeve, "miracles. Really, you should think about it," he tossed a cloud of confetti over both our heads, "and stop acting as if I was a criminal. I'm just doing magic," a few more pigeons burst out from mid-air, "though I think being a thief should be…" he snapped his fingers again and some four balls leaped in his hands, "…fun."

I gave up. He was juggling now, surrounded by tinsels, pigeons, and glittering confetti. When he was in such a mood nothing could reach him.

Then, suddenly, he gave a shrug, a clap of his hands, and everything disappeared. I didn't even flinch. I had seen that hundreds of times.

"So I'll leave you to you writing, I have to practise now," he turned my hair a very ill-looking shade of mauve, "but really, you should stop acting that seriously, Niisan, he added before exiting dancingly.

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Niisan. He always called me that way, even though he was the eldest. In his mind, it probably was a way to show how much he would have loved to be the younger brother, and be able to live the way he dreamed.

Our father wanted him to take over the family's business after him, but Touichi had always wished to be a magician for a living, not simply as a spare time. Neither of them, however, really argued about it, each thinking the other would give up first. It went on, until they had a big argument over it, one evening soon after my brother's eighteenth birthday. The same night, Touichi packed up a few things and left, and, for three years, we didn't hear about him at all.

Some time before my first novel was published, we heard that he had changed his name for Kuroba, and was producing himself in magician shows. When he was twenty-five, he sent us a very formal, cold note, inviting us to his wedding. Father got a fit of anger, did not reply, and nobody went, though I remember Mother picking up the card afterwards and keeping it preciously.

I had left home too, back then, living in a flat of my own. I missed him, of course – he was my brother, and I loved him – but I never showed anything of it. Only a few friends actually knew I wasn't an only child, but when they asked me whether I wouldn't go and see him, I smiled and said nothing.

Poker Face.

It was something we had learned from a clown, during a visit to a circus, when we were around eight. He had aught us how to keep one, single face up, never showing the feelings we had to keep hidden beneath the mask. I don't think, though, he actually thought we would stick to it.

He was wrong.

Month after month, year after year, we each built our own poker face. His was that arrogant, conceited grin, and mine was a much calmer, friendlier smile. We never talked about it between us, but we both knew it, knew it was a role we used to hide our real feelings.

That's why I instantly recognised him, when 1412 appeared for the first time. Yukiko and I were married, and I remember three-months-old Shinichi yelling in the background when I jumped and nearly spilled my coffee on the paper's front page, where my brother's face – Poker Face, was grinning up at me.

It wasn't actually my brother whom I recognised. I don't even think father or mother ever knew who he was. His hat and monocle hid half of his face, and he had grown a light moustache. But that smile, that grin, that smirk, that sneer, there was no way I couldn't notice it.

I'm only doing magic tricks, though I think being a thief should be fun.

Fun.

Two days later, I wrote an article about him, changing his name his 1412 surname into Kid. It was something I had found out when we were kids, that when distorting the numbers of 1412, one could get the word Kid. It was no coincidence if he had chosen that very name, so that I would turn it into Kid. He meant me to.

Thus began our relationship, no more as brother, but as rivals.

Our first meeting was short and meaningless to anyone but us. It had been ten years. His Poker Face and mine, finally facing each other again.

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It was nighttime. I was sitting on a bench before the case where the jewel was kept, wondering how Kid planned to steal it. There were policemen everywhere, and no possible escape. Nakamori-kebu said they would catch him this time, but I knew my brother. He had certainly managed a way out. And if I couldn't find it, then what was I doing here?

It probably wasn't in the jewel's room itself. It was too small, and crowded. The other floors were less, but they were too far, and the stairs were a risky place. So the other way he could get out was either the window or the roof. And he was no bird – no wings.

I rubbed my forehead painfully. What trick had he prepared this time? He may have been a genius, he was not a ghost, able to cross the walls and make himself invisible.

The owner of the gem checked the case carefully, told a few words to Nakamori-kebu, then noticed me.

"Hem… you are…?"

"Kudo Yusaku, glad to meet you."

"Ah, yes, Nakamori-san told me about you. He said you'd help to catch that thief. But really, what could a simply writer do when twenty policemen are there to survey the jewel?"

I gritted my teeth. "I'm a mystery writer, sir, as you may know. I have quite an experience…"

"Oh, if you think you can have fun, go ahead… just try not to bother the inspector's work!"

He went away laughing. I let him laugh… thought a few seconds… then an incredible, disastrous idea struck me.

"Hey! what are you doing!" Nakamori-san exclaimed when he saw me leap to the case.

I didn't answer, just checking the gem. And like I had thought, it was a fake one.

I instantly run towards the stairs, leaving poor Nakamori-san quite puzzled.

He wouldn't have gone down, there were too many policemen. But the roof… unless he had an URL waiting for him there – and I hadn't seen any when I checked it – he couldn't escape. If he was there, he was caught.

At this idea, I felt my heart sink a little£. I guess that when I ran up the staircase, it was with the paradoxical envy to arrest him and to save him.

And, like I had guessed, he was standing on the roof when I arrived to it. He had left his disguise and was now wearing his work clothes. I had no idea how he had managed to put them on in so short a period of time – or where he had kept the top hat and the white cloak.

His back was turned at me but he looked at me over his shoulder.

"So you had figured out, writer-san?" he asked playfully.

My brother's voice. I nearly fell over.

"Indeed," I answered.

He turned completely and grinned at me. I responded with a smile. I then realized how much I had missed him.

"The police won't last," I said. "And there's no way you can escape, is there?"

He shook his head. "Seems not. Hey, here!"

He threw something at me. I caught it before understanding what it was.

The gem he had stolen. The gem… this made no sense.

I looked up at him. He was standing on the very edge of the roof. He shrugged. "Not the one I was looking for. Maybe next time."

"What?"

He grinned more broadly and jumped in the air. I gasped and ran for him, but he was too far.

Then…

Then he rose in the air. His cloak had turned into a hand glider.

"I see," I said. "So that's it."

He tipped his hat at me and turned away, disappearing just when the rest of the task force emerged on the roof.

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I didn't go to everyone of his heists, only the important ones. He was cleverer than he used to be, but so, probably, was I. The simple tricks he used to fool the police and poor Officer Nakamori didn't work on le, and we both were aware of it. I knew him ever since he was a child; I knew his strength and his weaknesses. Between us it wasn't a catch-me-if-you-can chase, but a fight, a real duel between two people of equal minds and reactions.

My aim wasn't to arrest him – he was my brother – but to take to jewels away from him. His aim…

Apart from his heists, we only met once. It was in summer, in a public park where I had taken Shinichi playing. And he was there too, with his wife and son. We only shared one look, not a word. No one could have suspected we were brothers. So the only thing we did was watching our sons playing.

Shinichi and Kaito – so I heard his mother call him – played along for a little while, ignoring that they were cousins, ignoring that time and future would bring them together again, not as playmates anymore, but as rivals.

Then, when Shinichi was ten, Touichi died, and Kid was gone.

And that was it.

Years flowed in, however; time didn't stop after that. Slowly, Kid faded out in everyone's memory, ending up forgotten, like a myth lost in the past.

One day, however, I met Kaito-kun in the street.

He was around seventeen – and at first I thought he was Shinichi. The two of them look so alike, much more than Touichi and I ever did.

But Kaito's hair is messier, Shinichi's a bit taller – yet their eyes, their blue eyes, are so much the same.

He was walking in the street, talking with a girl with brown hair. She was almost Ran's double – they have the same taste. It was clear he was damn in love with her, even though I think he would never admit it – at least, not now.

Our eyes met for a second, then he turned away, with a careless look in his eyes, an arrogant, yet innocent smirk twitching his lips.

He is Kid now, and his white wings are spreading again in Tokyo's black sky. He is not yet as good a thief as his father was, but he'll be, I guess. He's like Shinichi, in a way.

Shinichi, now his rival. Being a tantei, a phantom thief such as Kid is too interesting a prey to let it go away. I expected this for a long time – that he'd find an enemy as clever as he is, an equal.

Like in a very long tale where nobody knows who will win in the end.

Time has gone by… people changed… what they call their present is now our past. A new generation of thieves and detectives, taking over what their fathers left behind. I can see their fight through the papers, through every heist and every case, I can see the steps they take, the answers they search, the masks they pick then leave in the shadows where they are lost, as in a strange waltz which no one understands.

It's their turn now, ours is gone, Touichi.

I wipe away a lonely tear, which is probably just an illusion onto my Poker Face.

"Kudo-san?"

My head shots up. Through an oddly blurred vision, I can distinguish a female silhouette – familiar silhouette…

"Kuroba-san."

Touichi's wife.

And what can I do now? How can I explain my presence here?

She remarks my hesitation and says, "He told me."

"Told you… what?"

"That you were brothers."

I can literally feel my eyes widen. She smiles, a slightly sad smile, the one she must always wear. The mourning one. The loving one.

"Ah…" I turn my head away, "Hem, won't you sit down?"

"Sure." And so she does.

I have a ton of questions to ask her. And at the same time, none.

"When did he tell you?"

She smiles, remembering. "It was the day he proposed to me. We walked a lot that night, and, well… he told me everything nobody knew but him. All the things he ha refused to think about, always… and how much he missed… all of those things. Missed you too."

I shook my head. "Miss the teasing over my writing, certainly."

She chuckles. I look at her. "Yes, he told me about that…" she giggles, "dozens of times… he loved it. You know… we have everyone of your books at home."

Now I'm staring at her.

"He's always been very critic about Of blood and tears, but Jewellery has always been one of his favourite novels."

I smile – a quick, shy smile, like a child's. "I actually wrote it… hoping he would read it one day or other."

"Well, he did. Say… do you miss him very much?"

Okay. Something I understood about this woman… she always says what one would never expect. In a novel, she would say something like, "He could always identify with the hero", or maybe, "He never could tell you, but…" and so on.

But this is no novel. Just the words of a wife for her late husband.

"Yes. Very much." And now the words just escaped me. "Rhem… you?"

"Yes, of course. Sometimes at night I wake up and think I can see him entering the room by climbing up the window like he used to do, careful to keep silent so as to let me sleep." The corner of her mouth twitches. "After all, I've always been in love with a phantom."

To hear her speak of the life she used to live with my brother makes me feel quite odd. We keep silent, until she asks, "And how is your wife, hem… Yukiko? And your son?"

"Oh, they're both… well, I think. Shinichi's on his own now. He begins to be quite famous as a detective, in spite of his one-year's absence."

"Ah, yes… he's the one… Kid's rival, isn't he?"

"… yes. What about your son… Kaito?"

"He's fine. I feel a bit lonely since he left home… but he's okay. Much better than he's ever been since Touichi's death – probably thanks to Aoko."

Silence parts us and I hardly hear her whisper, "He loved his father so much."

Rivals. Rivals Touichi and I were, rivals our sons shall be… they keep fighting their endless duel, ignoring how closely they're related and shall always be. They yet haven't uncovered the truth, but they will one day, I trust them upon that. After all they are a thief and detective.

They will.

I'll watch over them, hoping they won't hurt each other too much.

And you will too, won't you?

Niisan?