A/N: I totally blame Katie-chan for this. Somehow it spins off her Velocity's first chapter, or at least my own misconception of her inspiration for it… Howl's Moving Castle and all... and then the plunnie hit. And it just begged to be written. So yeah. All her fault. xP

Warnings–AU, cracky!idea, pitiless butchering of movie canon to fit my evil purposes. Come to think of it, butchering of book canon too, but this is mainly based off the movie. This is parody, folks.

Disclaimer–Gosho-sensei owns the cast, D.W. Jones owns the story, Hayao Miyazaki owns most of the rest. *bows to their awesomeness*

-

Of Moving Castles

-

Overture

Once upon a time, in the peaceful land of Tokyo, there lived a powerful magician who, apparently, rather fancied shiny gems.

Much to the dismay of the local authorities. This magician, according to folk's talk, owned a castle, up on the hills above the small town of Ekoda, but as it was oftentimes seen in the plains of Beika, and sometimes as far as the coasts of Teitan, it was generally said to be a moving castle.

Talk would also digress as to what that castle looked like. To some it was a tall, menacing mansion; to some a roaring fortress; to some a tall, black tower; to some patched-up pieces of all of the above. But no account could be logically believed–if only because people, having a slight sense of conservation, would just flee at the sight of it and not while away time studying its architecture.

As for the magician; no one really knew what was his appearance, per se, for he came down to town, to steal his jewels, clad in a white suit and a white cloak, his face hidden by the brim of a white top hat and the glass of a monocle. Some would have it that he was in fact but half-human, and he hid behind them his disgraceful features; some, on the other hand, and mostly the female part of the population, asserted that he was really a beautiful young man who strolled the towns' streets, seducing women.

It so happened that in the small town of Ekoda, upon the hills of which KID's moving castle (for such was the name given to the bandit, and such the name given to his mansion) was often seen, lived a young woman named Nakamori Aoko. She was a hatter, and had beautiful blue eyes despite not being the prettiest lass in the country–and had one hell of a nasty temper.

Quite coincidentally, she was also the daughter of the police officer most set on catching KID, and was quite good with a mop.

-o-

Act I, sc. 1

May Day was usually a fine day. The hat shop was closed to celebrate, so Aoko did not have to work like a frenzied rabbit; KID did not come to trouble the festivities, aside from setting off a few fireworks from his wandering castle; and she generally spent her day at the bakery where her cousin worked, eating cream puffs and chattering with Ran.

It was supposed to be a good day.

Good days did not come with rather drunk young men trying to sidestep her into a dark alley on her way to the bakery. Kami knew she was not his gift to men, but did he have to send her the ugliest, drunkest men alive on Ekoda's May Day?

"I'm not interested," she declared firmly, trying to push past the duo of set shoulders. "Please let me pass." They didn't. "Now."

"Don't shay zat, laydee," said one of the men, leering drunkenly as he made a pass at her hands. She snatched them away. "Why don't'cha come wiz uss? Wee'll makes it worzwhile to ye."

"No thanks. Move over."

"I zink ye're scayrin' 'er off," said the other, with a heavy laugh, "wiz yer mustache. I don' have no mustache, laydee."

"I. Will. Not–"

"The lady said no thanks," said a smooth voice right behind her, and a hand dropped lightly on her shoulder, making her nearly snap and bite in instinctive reaction. "I suggest you go bother someone else." The hand on her shoulder tightened a little, pulling her a bit closer, and a dark head bumped gently against hers.

The intimacy of the gesture threw the drunkards off, and they wandered away back down the alley, grumbling sourly as Aoko's self-imposed saviour slid her arm underneath his and started the opposite way.

"Thank you," she said, albeit grudgingly.

"My pleasure," he replied, flashing her a grin. "A lovely girl like you should not be alone on such a festive day. What is your destination? Let me accompany you."

Oh, great. Another one, if more refined. Though she had to admit, this one man was far from ugly. He had rather sly blue eyes, cheerful and mischievous as they met hers full-on, and his jet-black hair was tousled as though just out of bed–an effect which she was dead certain was most carefully calculated; and all in all he was one of the handsomest young men whose path she had crossed… albeit with some weird dressing tastes. She was pretty sure that long, gaudy cloak was not in the best of fashion, but.

"I'm going to the bakery," she said reluctantly–there was no trusting him any more than the other two.

"Indeed! Come then–I know a shortcut." Despite the wine-fine voice, he was slightly out of breath, and he walked quickly as they made an abrupt turn. Something was wrong, she thought, as they continued without a word–the muscles of the arm holding hers were tense and tight under the blue sleeve.

She had no idea where they were, or were going, as the labyrinth side alleys were as unknown to her as they seemed to be familiar to him. As, however, they emerged from an umpteenth alley into a wider, sunnier one, she found herself facing the back entrance of the bakery's. Further down the street, one could glimpse the bright blurs of colours and the shining music from the piazza.

"There we are," murmured her guide, drawing her arm out from under his as she turned back to him, and kissed her fingers and 'poof'-ed one single rose out of nowhere. And then–with that–he was gone.

Aoko stood alone in the street, holding the rose thoughtfully for a second, and then shrugged and went to keep her appointment with her cousin.

-o-

Act I, sc. 5

… this is had better be some kind of sick, sick joke.

-o-

Act II, sc. 2

Nakamori Aoko, twenty-one-years-old, though currently under the appearance of an eighty-five granny, vehemently cursed the wind, the damp evening, Ekoda's hills, and purple-haired witches who thought they could stroll into anybody's hat shop, drop a few words about Lucifer, and hex people into old age, with all the heartiest swear words she had learnt from her father.

Her body ached all over, though she had no idea whether it came from her transformation, her newly-reached age, or simply from the fact that she had been walking all day in those damn hills. She had no walking stick, which she found made it quite difficult to climb when one was half-doubled over, she hadn't eaten anything except some bread and cheese around midday, her shoes were getting damp, and she could look forward to a wet, ugly night in the hills. Why hadn't she just stayed at home–instead freaking out and running?

It didn't help that a live scarecrow was currently hopping behind her, apparently grateful that she had pulled it out of a bush of thorns a few hours earlier.

It didn't help either that it chose that gratitude by bringing KID's castle straight to her.

Or at least she supposed it was KID's castle. It moved, for one, and besides it mostly fit the descriptions she had been given of it–part-mansion, part-fortress, part-tower–all bits and blotches patched up together in complete ignorance of practical laws. Strangely enough, it wasn't as threatening as she'd been told, as it puffed and panted almost as heavily as she did.

"Well," she mumbled to herself–after all, old people always mumbled to themselves–"it's better than the hills to sleep in," and resolutely walked in, waving goodbye and thanks at the scarecrow as the castle rumbled forwards again.

It was surprisingly quiet and cosy inside. A simple room, jumbled up with trinkets and books she did not care to know about-probably magician's stuff it was, and what a messy magician this was–stashed carelessly on shelves and tables, half-lit by the flickering glow of the fireside.

There was a chair in front of said fireside.

She slumped into it with a delicious shiver of warmth, gathered her shawl around her shoulders, and promptly proceeded to fall asleep. She was succeeding quite nicely, when the fire began to crackle, sizzle, and finally speak up.

"You look like quite a young thing to be wandering around the hills at this house," it said, "in this apparel."

Aoko opened one lazy eye. "Did the fire just speak," she asked sleepily, "or am I already dreaming?"

The fire chuckled–a soft, amused chuckle, that of an old man. "I did speak," it said. "I am however, not a fire. I am a fire demon." It voice too was aged, and comfortably, warm like its soft, cosy lights.

"Ah," Aoko nodded numbly. She had gone through too many extraordinary thing over the span of the last few hours to be fazed. Or maybe that came with being old. The day before she would have freaked out by a talking fire. Even more so, by a fire demon. "And what might be your name?"

"Jii."

"Well then, Jii-san–" she straightened up, catching her tumbling shawl, "I am not such a young thing." She grinned wrinkedly, tiredly. "Do I look juvenile to you?"

It chuckled again. "To my thousands of years, you certainly do, whatever appearance you are in. However, I am experienced enough to see you are under a spell–I can see you as you are, and quite lovely too."

Aoko sat a little straighter. "If you are so experienced, you can also take it off me."

"I could," it admitted. "But only if you do something for me in return. It is all a matter of giving and taking, you see."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. What should I do then?"

"I am currently forced to remain in this hearth," Jii said. "I want you to find a way to free me. It might take days, though–or weeks." It sounded unabashed, and slightly mischievous as it added, "You will need to stay here for the time being, I'm afraid."

Wonderful. Stuck in the magical castle of a fearful magician–moreover the man she hated most–for an undetermined period of time, while in the body of a granny. Something to look forward to. But she was slowly falling asleep again, and the fire was warm and soft, and it did not matter so much anymore. If anything, once she was swapped back to her own self she could as well trap KID for her father…

The fire chuckled gently and quietly.

-o-

Act II, sc. 3

She was awoken the next morning by someone coming running down the stairs. KID! she thought, and then Ow, my bones.

It was not KID, unless KID was a seven-year-old with huge glasses and a serious look staring suspiciously up at her, which for some reason she doubted. "Who are you?" he asked, voice more solemn than one was likely to expect from such a young child.

"Ah," she said, still half asleep. "My name's Aoko. Who are you, child?" she asked gently, clueless as to what a little boy might be doing in the castle of an infamous thief and magician. The room looked messier than ever in plain sunlight.

He winced a little when she called him that. "Edogawa Conan," he said curtly. "How did you get in?" and swirled around on the fireside. "Did you let her in, Jii-san?"

"I didn't," crackled the fire. "She came in on her own." Aoko had nearly jumped; she had almost forgotten. But as it came slowly back to her, and she looked around the place, she felt like a bucketload of water had been dropped onto her. She was eighty or so and stuck in KID's castle. Worse, she was expected to stay if she ever wanted to go back to her former self. And her father must be worried sick–if her colleague at the hat shop had alerted him.

Wonderful.

"Jii-san said you came in from the hills," the boy Conan was accusing, rounding back on her. "That would have been impossible to anyone who didn't have any powers."

"I'm not a witch," Aoko said instinctively–and then cursed herself for it. Pretending to have powers of any kind might have asserted her authority and a reason to stay, for a spell, or whatever it was that witches did.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "You smell like magic," he said, and the door slammed open.

A young, blue-eyed man floundered in, hair wild and black. He was clad in white trousers and a blue shirt, and held a bundle of white cloth over his shoulder. "Sunny day out in Beika!" he announced cheerfully, and then stopped short at the sight of her. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

"She says her name's Aoko," Conan said, to Aoko's gratitude. She was too shocked to reply herself, as blue eyes pinned hers amusedly. "She got in yesterday night and slept here, apparently. She says she's not a witch, but she smells like magic–"

"Not the kind of magic she can use," piped up Jii, obviously in a good mood. "She came in from the hills, young master."

"Indeed?" He dropped the bundle of white onto the nearest armchair, and Aoko made them out immediately–cloak, jacket, top hat, the flash of something glassy. The monocle. "What did you say your name was, baa-chan? Aoko what?"

"Aoko," she said firmly. There was no way she'd say her full name in her father's enemy's mansion.

He grinned. "Very well. Aoko-baachan–do you know who I am?"

Better than you think, she thought darkly, and said out loud, "Of course I know who you are, young man. The whole country knows who you are. You've made a fine job of making yourself the worst reputation in the land."

"Why, thank you. And if you know of my evil, fearful reputation, what are you doing here?" The blue eyes were–it seemed to her, but it might just be a trick of the light–twinkling with repressed amusement.

She had no idea what to say. She cast a quick look around–at Jii-san, he was the one who wanted her to stay in the first place–and despairingly caught sight of a mop leaning against a wall. "I'm your new cleaning lady, of course!" she exclaimed on a sigh of relief. "Your castle might be feared all around, my lad, but if you keep it in such a state you'll soon lose all your mightiness–"

Belowdeck, Conan frowned. "We didn't ask for any cleaning lady," but a gesture from KID shut him up. He glowered.

"Jii-chan?"

"She's harmless," the fire sizzled, and then, impossibly, there was something of a grin in his voice. "At least for us she is. I do not guarantee the security of whatever unfortunate spiders she finds in her way."

Conan opened his mouth again, but KID cut him off with a huge yawn. "Well then, if Jii-chan says it's alright, it's alright. Why don't you start with making breakfast?" he told Aoko, and then to no one in particular– "If that's all the excitement for this morning, I'm going to bed." He inched toward the staircase.

"Fortuitous night?" Conan asked, his voice surprisingly bitter and dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh yes," KID waved a hand blindly over his shoulder, "Nakamori was one irate man." He chuckled to himself as he started up the stairs. "Oh, and Aoko-baachan–" he leaned over the parapet, "try not to break anything in your cleaning rage."

Aoko furiously grabbed the mop and spring-swept the castle right off its feet.

-o-

Act II, sc. 4

KID, wise man, did not come down again until Aoko had had her way with the living-room, or whatever it was called here. She stored most of the trinkets and magical tools in the closets, following Jii's instructions as to where to place them, and classified the books on the shelves, with the reluctant help of one Conan-kun when she could not read the titles.

She scrubbed the ceiling's corners and washed the floor, leaving the walls and most of the furniture for further inspection­–she would need a lot of work to do if she wanted to stay as long as possible. Moreover, she wished to be more acquainted with the place before she opened all the closets–who knew what could jump to your face in a magician's house.

That the place was drenched in magic was clear enough. The biggest table would not budge an inch, no matter how much she pushed or dragged, and one of the books she sorted out snapped to her face Let go of me, you horrid scum! (After that, she left the books to Conan-kun.)

It also turned out that the door, according to position of the doorknob, opened on different places. Beika. Teitan. The hills. She had quite a good quite switching between them until Conan, exasperated, rose from the table and slammed the door shut.

"What about the fourth side?" she asked.

"KID's special quarters," he replied, sitting back to his book. He fixed her with a stern look. "Strictly forbidden."

Aoko glanced one last time at the door and wide set to making breakfast. There was hardly anything edible in the place, but her own skills and Jii's useful counsel made of bacon and eggs a feast that made even Conan look up and KID tumble down the stairs.

"Looks delicious," said he, inspecting them, and then with a wry grin, "you are rarely so obedient with me, Jii-chan."

"Not everyone takes cooking to an art," replied the old fire demon with dignity. "Aoko-san is very talented. You are a good cook, Kaito-botchamma, but you would have made a mess of these eggs and bacon."

That caught Aoko's attention. "Kaito?" she repeated, bringing plates and clean forks over to the table.

"Well you didn't think my name was Kaitou KID, did you?" he asked, with a sly laugh.

She sat sheepishly. She hadn't ever thought of that. To be truthful, she had barely thought of KID as anyone else than a white-clad thief who mocked her father every other night–but seeing a human being with wild hair and a careless laugh, babbling carelessly as they dug in their breakfast, made quite the difference.

"Well, Aoko-baachan," said KID–no, Kaito–cutting up slices of bread. "Where do you come to us from?"

She opened her mouth, but Conan outwitted her. "Ekoda."

Kaito rose an eyebrow at him, then at her. "That true?"

"Yes," she said, dumbfounded. "How–"

The boy shrugged. "Elementary. You come in from the hills, so you probably lived not far off, and Ekoda's the closest town. Your gown pattern comes from a well-known tailor in that town, and besides you pronounce your i's as ay's." Another shrug. "That's a distinct accent from these parts. I put the clues together."

He gathered his plate and fork together, put them in the sink, and trotted up the stairs.

Aoko stared at his retreating back. "Is that little boy really a little boy?"

"Oh, no," Kaito laughed. "He's a well-known detective who pissed off a few wizards and got hexed into being seven years old. I've taken him in. But that–" he shrugged, too, "–is another story altogether."

It is.

-o-

Act III, sc. 2

"No. No way."

"Aoko-baachan…. please…"

"Do it yourself!"

"But I'm so tired! I didn't sleep at all two nights ago…"

"Blame yourself. You were snoring well enough last night. I heard you all the way downstairs. You wouldn't ask an old, frail lady like me to go all the way to Beika because you're too lazy to go yourself, would you?"

"You look quite springy to me. Nakamori hates me, he may just shoot me on sight–"

"Do I give a damn?"

"So cruel…"

­-o-

Act III, sc. 3

Aoko cursed KID all the way into Beika. Damn her father too–what need did he have to call in all magicians and witches in the country to help fight an upcoming menace? (What menace anyway–she had never heard of it.) And of course Kaito would feel lazy and send a decoy mother to excuse him.

The nerve of the man–she had barely lived two days under his roof and could barely stand him. Conan-kun was a kind child, but he was mostly reading all day; he had scarcely opened up to her all day. In fact, the only one person with whom she was really comfortable was Jii, even though she wasn't any closer to finding a clue to free him than she had been upon arrival.

She dwelled on these thoughts for quite a while, and then started to look around. She had only come to Beika once, three years ago, to visit her father after he had been mutated directly to the authorities' quarters as the Head of the KID Force. It was ironical that she should return to it now, three and eighty years later, under no misconception that her father would recognize her. What with this upcoming menace, he probably didn't even know she had disappeared.

Damn him. Damn him. Damn them both.

She approached the building's entrance with some apprehension, but the guards let her pass without stirring, and she entered the inner yard. It was crowded, with officers and busy-looking men in stern outfits, but with civilians also, so no one paid attention to the old lady hobbling her way by with her walking stick. "It contains a locator," Kaito had said as she left. "Wherever you are, I will be able to find you so long as you stick with it."

The bad pun had made him roar in laughter.

As she finally neared the long, sun-drenched flight of steps that led directly into the building, a carriage reached her level and a curtain was thrown back, revealing purple and an amused smirk from the person inside.

Aoko's eyes went wide.

"What, the little hat girl! Oh, this is a charming surprise. What brings you to the authorities' quarters?"

"My business," Aoko replied shortly, looking straight ahead. If this witch was the one Jii-chan had told her of–Akako of the Waste­–she did not like KID at all. Which, apparently, was why she had cursed her. The woman had obviously misunderstood her little street-meeting with Kaito. "I'm so surprised you recognize me at all, under this appearance you forced me into."

"Oh, I would have recognized you anywhere." The carriage was now ambling slowly beside her, and Aoko realized with a jolt that the two men who carried it were no men at all. "It was a fine job I did." The witch gave a pleasant laugh.

"You might want to make it finer by giving me my real appearance back," Aoko croaked.

They were approaching the gate and the flight of steps. "Oh, no. This is so much more fun that way," the witch said, and gracefully exited her vehicle. "I suppose you come see Nakamori on KID's behalf. Let us go, then." She mockingly offered a sustaining arm to the helpless old lady.

Aoko took it out of spite, glowering with the utmost dignity.

The way up the staircase was excruciatingly long. And hot. The two women were soon seen grasping at each other for support, gasping and panting for breath–Aoko might have the body of an old woman, but that Akako person obviously did not work out everyday. –By the time they reached the top, they were half-dead.

"Tired much," Aoko wheezed, as they caught their breath before the open double doors. "I'm surprised an old, frail woman like me can almost out-run you."

The witch glared, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and straightened up. They went in together.

They were directed by a string of valets into a small, curtained room, well-lit and furnished with a few armchairs and deep carpets. Akako seated herself immediately, setting to fix her dress with displeased noises and flickers of magic, but Aoko was nervous. She had no idea what to say to her father. He might just shrug her off. He might–

A hand touched her elbow and she almost screamed.

It was, however, but an umpteenth valet, addressing her in a hushed voice and inviting her to follow him now. Aoko turned toward the oblivious witch, who was arranging her corsage, but– "No, no, you alone. Nakamori-san with see you now."

As the door of the antechamber closed behind them, she thought she heard a scream.

-o-

Act III, sc. 4

Her father was sitting at a desk in a large, sunny room, with windows large and tall. He signed off a paper as she entered, and rose to greet her, lead her diligently to a seat. He looked tired and worn, she realized, dark curves under his eyes and hollow face, as though he had not slept in a while.

"I take it you are KID's mother," he said, sitting back down. "Is there any chance you could compel your son to help us?" –but he sounded defeatist already.

"I'm afraid not," Aoko said, firmly chasing the emotion from her voice. 'He has sent me to tell you he doesn't intend to work under his work. He'll do his own alone." How incredible, she thought, as the words left her lips, that she should be the one saying them, on KID's behalf, to her father. "You should not account with him."

There was a brittle pause. "… I thought so," he said eventually, on a sigh. "Madam–if there is anyway I can–what is your name?"

The question took her by surprise. "Aoko," she said mechanically, and then cursed herself as his eyes lit up.

"Indeed? My daughter also is called Aoko." She opened her mouth to speak, say anything to change the subject, but he stood abruptly. "I trust your motherly instincts to understand, Aoko-san–my daughter has gone missing two days ago. Oh, yes–" foreseeing that protest– "young girls are known to–but Aoko is different. She wouldn't disappear without letting someone know."

He started to pace the carpet before her helpless, huddled figure on her seat. "You may know, Madam, that various threatening events are taking place in our country. Disappearances. Unexplained murders–" he stood still, tall and serious as the sun shaded part of his profile. "We have reason to believe that this is the work of one, single, organization of criminals, possibly a few of them magicians. And now that Aoko has vanished–" his lips thinned. "I cannot turn a blind eye on it anymore."

His gaze landed on her sympathetically. "That is why I cannot allow anyone magically endowed to not be under our orders."

The door was flung open by a red-faced youth. "The experiment is a success, Nakamori, sir!"

Her father nodded, not taking his eyes off Aoko. "Bring her in."

The youth disappeared and soon returned with another, both of them carrying on a stretcher a unconscious person–woman–with red nails and a bright dress and… purple hair…

"Oh, Kami!" Aoko cried out, springing from her seat. "What happened to her? Is she all right?"

"She is alive," her father said gravely, and his tone chilled her to the very bone. "She is alive. Akako of the Waste had refused to join us in this–for all we know, that organization I told you about may very well try to lure her in. For this reason, we have taken her powers from her, and she will remain a… guest here for the time being."

"Taken her powers from…" Aoko fixed him with a horrified stare, not quite sure she wanted to understand what that meant. "But–that's barbaric!"

"It is necessary," her father said slowly. Again, he looked vaguely sympathetic. "I am sorry, Aoko-san, but if your son persists in his desire to disobey us, we will be forced to submit him to the same treatment."

"That is provided you can catch me first," said Kaito, strolling into the room in full KID apparel. Several reactions ensued.

Aoko gaped like a fish.

The two youths gaped like fishes.

Her father started to shriek.

… and then Kaito was by her side, covering her mouth and nose with her shawl and whispering something she wasn't quite sure she caught, and let out a puff of pink smoke that stung the eyes and burned the throat.

When it cleared, her father and the two men were lying unconscious on the polished parquet.

"Oh dear," Kaito sighed when it was completely off. "Now that was awkward." He sounded anything but awkward. "Good job, Aoko–now let's get out of here. This office will be full of panicking assistants in no time."

"Wha–wait, what?" she breathed out, gasping a little when his arm left her shoulders. "Get out of here how?" For all she knew, he had just cut off their retreat.

He sauntered over the window and pulled it open, leaning outside on the balcony, and cast her an amused smile over his shoulder. "Flying, of course." His cloak thinned and then tightened around the metallic bars of his handglider. Of course. She was damned if she let him make her climb on this thing.

"Wait," she prompted, as he beckoned to her again. "We can't leave her."

His eyes became puzzled for a second, then flicked to the witch's unconscious figure on the stretcher. "Take her…? Aoko, do you have any idea who this is?"

"Of course I do," she bit out, unnerved by the patronising tone. "But we can't leave her here. They've taken away her powers­–she might die if she stays here. Even if she's not a good person–" and got me in this state, "leaving her would be as barbaric as what they did to her."

Kaito's eyes searched hers for a moment, and then he sighed. "… fine. You'll have to climb on the glider's bars, though, and not let go. Think you can manage that, baachan?"

"Of course," she huffed. "I'm not so helpless as I look, boy."

They ended up flying in a very uncomfortable position, Aoko clinging on the bars while Kaito carried the witch, both of them embarrassed to no end, and made a deafening entrée back to the castle.

-o-

Act IV, sc. 1

Kaito was gone when Aoko came down to make breakfast the next morning. It was rather late, as being old apparently didn't mean overcoming her tendency to sleep in, so she need not be surprised; but the eggs were not taken out of their closet, and the lump of bread was untouched. "He just heated some milk and left early," Jii-chan informed as she fried breakfast bacon over him. "He said there was likely to be an attack tonight or tomorrow."

"An atta–" Aoko repeated, stunned, and then remembered her father's words. "… I thought Kaito didn't want to fight that menace. Conan-kun, get me the kettle and fill it with water, will you."

He obeyed. "He doesn't want to fight under the authorities' orders," he said, walking over to the sink. "That doesn't mean he can't tackle them on his own." He pulled a wry face. "Typical KID behaviour. But with those people, it might not be as easy as with the KID Force."

Aoko's hand stilled over the handle of the filled kettle he had brought her. "… Conan-kun, do you know these people?"

He did not answer.

Still, his words bothered her all day. Even more so, that after four days living and interacting with Kaito, she was starting to wonder. She had seen him carefully prepare a heist two nights before, prepare to every eventuality, put on extra wards to protect on the castle. And for what–a gem he would keep for a little while, and then give back.

It didn't make any sense.

She had once thought KID did it only for kicks, only for fun. She had thought–in her personal fury–only to spite her father. But Kaito was different. He was a grinning, cunning, blabbering fool, clearly much more intelligent than he let on, charming woman, disarming with frankness at times, at times petulant with joy. Whatever masks he wore one easily saw throw. And yet this she could not make out–for sure he had a reason for doing what he did.

"Surely he does," she told Jii-chan over dinner. "There must be something he's looking for, isn't there?"

"I am not at liberty to say," said the fire demon, regretfully, it seemed. "The contract that binds me to this fireplace forbids me to say. However–" he was grinning again, though only his voice showed it, "I can tell you this–Kaito-botchamma was always one to seek for solace overseas, never at home. And I can give you some advice–you might want to ask Conan-kun."

Aoko put her fork down. "Conan-kun?"

The boy looked a little sheepish. "He–KID–didn't tell me everything when he took me in. But he did his researches in front of me, and I don't think he wanted to keep it from me." He fixed Aoko with a hesitant stare. "I just don't know if it is wise to tell you."

"Probably the wisest thing you could do in this situation," Jii-chan piped up, and Conan relaxed slightly. If Jii-chan thought so, Kaito did too.

"Fine. He's looking for a gem."

"So I had gathered," Aoko said wryly.

"A particular gem." He cast her a don't interrupt glare. "From what I've seen in those books of his, and from what slight hints he dropped in front of me, this gem, called Pandora, is said to bleed immortality when exposed to the light of the moon."

Aoko blank-stared. She had heard many crazy things within the last week, but that probably exceeded them all. "How can a gem bleed immortality?"

"It bleeds," Conan said, rather irritatingly it seemed, "and its blood, if drunk, is said to grant immortality. I don't know if it's true," he shrugged, "but it would seem KID has devoted his life to finding it."

"… but not for his personal use." It wasn't a question; she knew Kaito enough to not think it.

"Of course not," Jii-chan protested, and even Conan looked mildly indignant. "Kaito-botchamma would never seek immortality for himself."

"But these people are keen on finding it too," Conan added, more thoughtfully. "They've tried to kill him several times already–curse him, hex him, a few even tried to enter the castle. It didn't let them, of course."

"Shanghaied them all the way over the sea," Jii-chan chuckled reminiscently.

"Pandora, uh," Aoko murmured. There was a strange feeling with the name. As though something was–something was waiting to click into place. "You know," she whispered to Jii-chan, "it's not very kind of you to just let me do all the work and never hint at how I can free you."

"I can't really," retorted the fire demon. "My contract binds me. But I did give you a hint a few minutes ago–"

And that's when the bombing began.

-o-

Act IV, sc. 2

Aoko ran out the door into Beika, eyes growing wider as they registered the street's appearance. The sky was a dark, dirty orange, streaked with black as what looked like clouds passed over it. The town, around her, was filled with the hateful smell of burnt stone and wood and flesh, as more bombs dropped nearby, dazzling with bright death. The buildings shook; one of them, not far, only a few streets away surely, was ablaze with flames.

Everything was eerily quiet, bar from the whistling of the bombs.

The attack, she thought, heart beating so fast it might burst in her chest. The–dad–Kaito–

"Baachan!" Conan shouted, from the door. "Get back in! Now!"

"But the house might be hit!" Aoko shouted back. "We can't just–"

"The house is over on the hills, wandering around," Conan yelled. "We're safe inside. But you might be hit, if you stay out!" She got back in, and he slammed the door behind them, cutting off most of the sounds, except the occasional crash of a bomb slamming down.

Aoko remained still for a long moment. And then– "The witch! The bombing might wake her–if she wakes in a totally unknown place she could run us down!" and ran up the stairs, Conan on her heels.

But Akako was still unconscious in the bed they had placed her in the night before, her hair almost on fire against the pillow. Aoko bit her lips, and started back outside, barely thinking straight. She had no idea what to do. Staying here and do nothing was awful, but going out–if they could in any way help–

Conan, who had preceded her back to the living-room, was looking out the window when she came in. This one, she knew, was one of the castle's and gave out on the hills. According to the castle's position, one might even see Ekoda.

"Baachan," he said tightly, as she seated herself next to the fireside again. "If you're from Ekoda, surely you know Ran's? The bakery?"

That was so far from anything she had expected him to say Aoko stared blankly at him for the best of three seconds. "Yes," she said eventually, wondering eyes still on him. "I went there often. I know the first waitress personally."

This, unexpectedly, seemed to lighten him up a little. "Really? You know Ran?"

More staring. "I–yes. She's my c–grandniece. Why?"

He squirmed impatiently on the windowseat, looking almost–was that an embarrassed look? "Do you–Ekoda's likely to be under attack this night or tomorrow," he said, tensely. "Do you think she'll be wise enough to stay out of harm's way? go out of town and not come back?"

"… yes, I believe so." Aoko really didn't know what she was saying, although that was her real opinion on his question, and anyway it seemed to calm him down a little. He nodded a bit, and then sat back, looking out the window again, and didn't move.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a glance at Jii-chan and the reminiscence of Kaito's words that first day–'He's a well-known detective who pissed off a few wizards and got hexed into being seven years old'–reminded her of some worried words of her cousin's about a more-than-a-friend who had disappeared –Kudo something–and with a last look at the tight, tense little figure huddled up at the window, she shut up.

They waited.

-o-

Act IV, sc. 3

Kaito didn't come home after Jii-chan's fire had nearly died out, and Aoko was stiffly rising to select more logs. He came in tiredly, shouldering the door open and closing it with such gentleness Conan almost didn't wake from his slight doze.

He was clad in his KID outfit, and he didn't take it off.

"KID," Conan rasped, stumbling up to a standing position. "What's happened–how is everything–"

"It's okay for now," Kaito said, hushing him up with a flick of his hand and stalking up to the fireside without a look at either him or Aoko. "For now. It can start again anytime. Jii-chan, I need to amplify the link between us. I'll fall asleep if I don't."

He took the log from Aoko's numb hands and fed it to Jii-chan, sitting on the side of the hearth and murmuring with the fire demon for minutes. Aoko was close enough to overhear, but none of the words he spoke were understandable to her; he might as well have spoken another langua–

Oh.

"I don't understand it either," Conan murmured next to her. "I think they're thickening their bond."

"What bond?"

"The bond between KID and Jii-san. They're linked, didn't you know?"

She didn't. But just as she would ask more questions, Kaito stood up and said, "Alright. Let's get to it then," and, stooping, picked Jii-chan up from the hearth.

Aoko gasped. Conan made a soft, hissing sound; apparently this was not something they did often, if ever. But Kaito's face was scrunched up with no pain, but rather with tense, tight concentration as his lips moved soundlessly; and in his hands Jii-chan–which wasn't exactly a flame, but rather more a flickering glow with a darker, more solid lump visible within–started to glow.

It was over within seconds. Jii-chan was nestled back in the hearth, and Kaito pulled away, his hands slightly reddened, but not burnt. He looked better, though short of breath. His face wasn't so shallow as it had been minutes earlier, and his eyes were brighter as they strayed on them.

"Are you all okay?"

"Are you?" Aoko asked concernedly, just as Conan said, "What happened?"

He grinned, rather sheepishly, but a genuine grin if anything. "Woah, not two at a time. Yes, I'm fine… now. They finally made a move," he told Conan. "They've raided Beika, though I think you know that already. The authorities have it under control for now, but Teitan and Ekoda are next on the list–probably tonight too, at least one. I'm going back."

"I–" Conan said, and then seemed to go limp. "I see."

"It's alright," Kaito said. "You don't have to."

"I know."

Kaito straightened up from where he had stooped to talk to the boy, and mentioned Aoko over. "C'mere. I need to talk to you before I leave again." He led them both into a smallish alcove by the door, half-heartedly followed by Conan's eyes, who then slumped over beside Jii-chan.

"Do you have to go again?" she asked immediately, hands almost reaching up to grip his arms. "What can you do?"

"Saving people's lives is good enough for me," he retorted. "Beika is going up in flames; I don't want to see it happening elsewhere. I was almost too late already. I need you here, Aoko. You have to keep by them." A quick, sideways glance at the fireside. "Conan may have the mind of an adult, his body's that of a child. He couldn't do any good outside, and that's one loss on our side. And Jii-chan's weakened. Stay by them. Cheer them up. Conan especially. He wants to go."

"Help Ran," Aoko murmured.

"Yes. Now listen. I'll be back at dawn if everything goes fine. If I'm not, move the castle over to the coasts. Ekoda's really next, not Teitan, but Conan doesn't have to know that–he'd be outside in a flash."

Aoko had really caught on one thing. "Go? And leave you behind–"

"Yes. It's important. But I'll be back. You're the only one who can protect them, Aoko–I'm really grateful you're here."

"A fine team we make," Aoko mumbled. "A kid, an exhausted fire demon, and a frail, helpless old lady. We're sure to survive through anything."

"You're not a frail, helpless old lady. Look at the energy with which you cleaned the castle." His eyes strayed on her face, thoughtful and slightly wistful. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Aoko?"

A thousands things–her mind said. I'm not really an old lady–I'm the daughter of the man most set on catching you–I don't want you to go–I want to come with you–and something else, something so wide and large and terrifying she couldn't put it into words.

"Just go," she huffed, and turned away.

He nodded. "If at dawn–in eight hours–I'm not back, you move to the coasts."

"Yes."

He went.

-o-

Act IV, sc. 4

The fourth hour they waited.

-o-

Act IV, sc. 5

The fifth hour they waited.

-o-

Act V, sc. 2

Dawn was only three hours away. Aoko had replaced Conan on the windowseat, leaving the boy to his book within Jii-chan's subdued light and warmth, and stared out into the night, pieces of her mind in a whirlwind that nothing she did could anchor around.

Conan-kun. '… this gem, called Pandora, is said to bleed immortality when exposed to the light of the moon.'

Jii-chan. 'But I did give you a hint a few minutes ago–'

Her father. 'Various threatening events are taking place in our country. Disappearances. Unexplained murders. We have reason to believe that this is the work of one, single, organization of criminals, possibly a few of them magicians…'

Jii-chan again. 'I am not at liberty to say. My contract binds me.'

Kaito. 'I'll be back at dawn if everything goes fine.'

Conan-kun again. 'The bond between KID and Jii-san. They're linked, you know.'

Jii-chan again. 'I can tell you this–Kaito-botchamma was always one to seek solace overseas, never at home.' And then, when Kaito had come home, his body had glowed bright and soft all over, except around one darker lump– 'Kaito-botchamma was always one to seek solace overseas…'

Wait.

What?

'… never at home.'

Oh, Kami. "Jii-chan," she said slowly, not uncurling from her foetal position. "I think that I've figured out how to free you of that contract." She turned her head to where the fire was suddenly sizzling and Conan was staring up from his book. "I think I found where Pandora is too."

"That's impossible," Conan said immediately. "If it were that easy KID would have found it years ago."

"KID keeps a blind eye on his own," Aoko said, quietly unfurling and getting to her feet. "Jii-chan, how long can you survive if you're taken away from the hearth?"

The demon didn't hesitate. "A few minutes. Considering my current state, five at most."

"I won't need that long," she murmured, and picked up the spade. Jii-chan was surprisingly easy to pick from the ashes, as his silhouetted body was much subdued, like a flickering candle's flame in the nigh-obscurity of the castle room. The smallish, darker lump was slightly blurred in the bright, but obvious enough.

"Is there any reason why Kaito can't see it?" she asked slowly, eyes fixed on the spot.

"He can't see it at all," Jii-chan admitted. "It was in the contract." And then his voice got a tad sharper. "A child he was when he accepted that contract–he didn't even think about the consequences or side-effects it might have."

Aoko looked around and pointed Conan to the tongs lying by the fireside. Jii-chan visibly blanched.

"… what are the chances of you surviving if I break the contract?" she asked softly.

"Thirty percent. Maybe less," was the immediate reply.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes."

She took the tongs Conan handed her and plunged them without firther ado in Jii-chan's fire.

There was a hiss, a nasty burnt smell, and then they came away with the lump, easy as in water. The tongs, however, turned scalding hot, and Aoko nearly dropped the spade along with them as she released them and the thing on the table.

"Jii-Jii-chan," she gasped, out of breath for no reason she could see. "Are you okay?"

There was no reply. The fire flamed up.

"Jii-chan!"

… and then it started to float.

Let it be said to Aoko's credit that the last week had been so full of supernatural events she didn't even blink. Instead, she laid the spade very, very slowly and carefully down on the table, beside the tongs, and stepped back. "Jii-chan?"

"Yes," came the fire demon's voice through the flaming fire–the very same, if slightly deeper.

"Are you–fine?" the question seemed quite superfluous now, but she just had to check. This Jii-chan appeared different in looks. He might be menacing. He might, with the regain of his full powers, have completely changed in personality.

"I am very well." He sounded vaguely amused, in a Kaito-ish way, and she felt abashed, if for a moment. "You did very well, Aoko-san–I expected no less of you." The amusement in his voice increased still, for no reason she could see. Fire demons' arcane it must be.

She picked up the stone for the table. It appeared quite normal. It was probably blue, maybe a dark mauve–it was difficult to say exactly in the shadows. It was also difficult to imagine that such a small thing held so many powers. "… how long has this been attached to you?"

"Longer than I can remember," was the sombre reply. "It is why I went to Touichi-san, Kaito-botchamma's deceased father, and later on, why I stayed with Kaito-botchamma and suggested this contract between us. I did not imagine that the boy was then too young to understand the full meaning of it. I decided to wait, but might have waited long had you not come by. However–" and here he floated a little higher, as though gliding on air, "I believe we ought to continue this conversation elsewhere. That gesture of yours has had more consequences than you imagine."

"–baachan!" yelled Conan, suddenly tuning up on her.

And then the castle crumpled down on them.

-o-

Act V, sc. 3

They had three seconds' fair warning before the walls started to shake. Aoko's first and immediate instinct was to grab Conan and make for the door–her second stopped her dead in her tracks. The witch. She was still upstairs, still asleep, deprived of her powers. She would die if–

"Take care of him!" she shouted at Jii-chan, who was already outside, under the rain–oh, how stupid she was, stupid, stupid, stupid–and raced straight for the staircase, ignoring Conan's calls behind her.

The steps were still steady under her feet, if wobbling. Good enough. It would be another matter to come down. She made it to the bedroom's door in record time, hoping against hope that Akako might have been woken by the seism–

She hadn't. She was lying painfully still on the bed, calm and peaceful as the castle cracked and and crumbled around them. Aoko grabbed her shoulders and shook them. Again. Again. "Oi! Akako! WAKE UP!"

No answer. The witch's head lolled back on her neck, and Aoko was still agonizingly aware of the world coming to a thunderous close, and that damn woman was getting seriously annoying with her random curses and stubborn refusal to wake up–and she had had enough of bossy, extremely irritating, magically-endowed people for a lifetime now.

She slapped her.

Twice.

And as amazing as that would seem, the witch's eyes flew open, glaring straight at her with hurt pride and cold indignation.

Aoko would never be quite certain how they got out of it, for get out of it they did. The noise and blurs of colours obscured her vision and sight, as they pressed against each other, trying to make it to the door, as the very floor under their feet started to give way and shriek as it split open and–

A hand grabbed her arm, propelled her forward toward the window–and then a crash of broken glass and exploding noise and then–and then falling.

And then she was kneeling on the grass before the collapsing castle, staring wide-eyed at it as it deteriorated to wood and metallic pipes, glass and shards and iron all blending together in one final mould on the earth. It was raining, she realized numbly. She could feel the minute, fire-like droplets on her shoulders, dampening her dress.

When she had the chance and the breath to look around, Conan was on one side of her, his childish face scrunched up in concern, and Akako on the other, panting but standing.

"I thought­–" Aoko rasped, "I thought you couldn't do magic anymore."

The witch snorted. "Do you even know who I am? –as if a petty human's experiment would manage to take my powers away." She paused slightly, breath hitching, and frowned down at her. "I needed the rest. To make up for the energy I lost."

Aoko nodded dully. It didn't make much sense to her right now–if anything did, it was what Kaito would think when–oh, Kaito. And Pandora. She had it still clutched in one hand, the stone's edges driving hard and sharp in her palm's flesh. And Jii-chan–

"Jii-chan!" she panicked. Where–he had gotten away, hadn't he? He–

"Baachan," said Conan from a few feet away, in a very strange, strangled manner. "I think you should come and see this."

She got to her feet, accepting Akako's unexpected but welcome hand to stand, and walked over, breathing a sigh of relief. There was Jii-chan, not far-off, but its light and warmth much subdued by the rain, floating beside a cross-like, familiar figure.

"The scarecrow," she gasped, urging on, toward them. Conan, however, pulled back.

"It's a magical artefact, isn't it? How do we know it won't attack us?"

"It won't," she assured. "I've met it before. And Jii-chan appears to trust it. I think it's alright, Conan-kun." Conan looked up at her under half-lidded eyes, which widened, and then lowered again.

"… very well. I trust you, Aoko-san."

They came close–a fine team they made really, a kid and an exhausted witch and an old lady, and at the thought of what she had told Kaito about this, what he had told her, her chest hurt–to level with Jii-chan and the scarecrow. It was exactly similar to what she remembered, albeit drenched. Why shouldn't it? a week had hardly elapsed since she had met it. It felt like a lifetime.

"Jii-chan." Her voice was level and clear; with her mind in such a turmoil as it was, it was a wonder she even managed to give out complete sentences. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine. You look good too, Aoko-san."

"As good as I can be expected after escaping a crashing building," she retorted wryly, and got the sudden, inexplicable sentiment that if Jii-chan could have rolled his eyes, he would have just then. Actually, maybe he did. She turned away from that thought and to the scarecrow instead. "Scarecrow-san. It is nice to meet you again." She bowed low, pushing back stray locks of black, wet hair as she straightened up. "You have brought me to KID's castle in the first place. Might it be that you could show us the way to where KID is now?"

The scarecrow seemed to droop a little, hobble slightly, and then hop away, slow at first, so that they should follow, and then quicker, skipping smartly down the hills.

-o-

Act V, sc. 5

They found him in Ekoda.

In destroyed Ekoda.

"Oh, Kami," Aoko mouthed, as they crossed streets she had known radiant with joy–May Day, a week back, her world making a stunning leap into unknown–now burnt down and empty, walls black with smoke. It was eerily calm. The sky was a blistered orange. Conan, by her side, looked as torn as she felt inside; she figured it must show on her face, too.

The scarecrow went ahead of them; hopping on like it had since the top of the hills; they had by now walked long enough for the rain to stop, for their walk to be slow and drugged. Behind, Akako carried Jii-chan–apparently her magic made that possible; it had for Kaito. They exchanged no words; and no words were exchanged between Aoko and Conan either. They waited.

She could hardly recognise the streets. After a minute or two, she focused on walking–one step before the other, the other foot, same again, same again, same again–

And then the scarecrow stopped.

It was breathtaking–she would have walked straight into it had she not felt Conan pause. They were, she realized, in a side alley of the town; this place had not been touched by the bombs. But for the dead silence and the smell of scorched stone seeping around them, and the horrible light the burning sky cast down on them, it might just have been any other Ekoda night.

Kaito was lying face down on the sidewalk, still apparelled in full KID outfit.

A beat, and then Conan was the first to rush up to him. Aoko watched, dully, as the child pulled him over on his back; Kaito's head rolled back on the side, black bangs strayed on his forehead. (Oh Kami please please no no no please no.) She watched as Conan frantically searched a pulse point, pressed Kaito's wrist between his fingers, looking for–for it. Life. Any sign. (No.) She watched as the blue eyes behind the glasses rose to meet hers, despair etched in them as though carved in stone. (No!)

"No," she mouthed, and then she was beside Kaito, pressing her hands to his chest and his neck and his wrists, black hair falling on her face and his and fingers numbly looking for–searching–saying please please please oh please Kami–

There. A pulse. Barely, but there, just there, fading, oh Kami. Not now. Not when he was still alive.

A pulse. Ba-bump-ba. B-bump. B-b-a-bump-p.

Fading.

"It's useless," Conan said beside her. "He's too far gone–we'd need oxygen or magic–"Aoko wasn't listening anymore. Her hand had found its way in the pocket of her dress, to the sharp stone the rain hadn't touched, hadn't stained. She looked up; fearfully; the moon did shine in the devastated sky, a silvery sheen to the dirty red.

"Jii-chan," she said slowly, fingers still grasping Kaito's wrist, "you said drinking all of Pandora's blood would make one immortal."

Conan gasped, Akako blanched, and even the scarecrow seemed to droop. Aoko ignored them.

"I did," Jii-chan said very slowly. His fire did not cast much light in the alley; it cast enough.

"… would drinking a few drops only manage to bring back a man on the brick of death?"

A pause. She wasn't even looking at either of them anymore–Kaito's face was getting paler by the minute. Pandora imprinted its outline on her palm, burning, scratching. The pause lengthened, and suddenly she was dead afraid no answer would come, and Kaito would be left to die by his oldest friend.

"… It might," Jii-chan admitted. "But it is taking a great risk. You have every chance to kill him as you try to save him."

"It's either that or losing him anyway!" Aoko yelled, close to losing her swimming head. Her eyes flared up to the four beings standing around her and the lifeless man beside her; their fine team. "Do any of you have a solution in mind? Can any of you tell me why I shouldn't do this?"

Neither answered.

She lifted the stone into the light of the moon. One drop. Two. Both fell between Kaito's barely parted lips. She pulled the gem hastily away, tossing it to the ground, and as it hit it it swiftly disintegrated to stone dust, swept out by a gust of wind.

Aoko saw nothing of this. Kaito wasn't moving.

He didn't move for a long time. And just as she began to think–to despair–it was hopeless, his eyes (blue blue in the dark and one fleeting second to take in) flew open, and his hand, working its way around her neck, pulled her down to him for a very thorough kiss.

She gasped, and then proceeded to stare as, pulling away, he straightened up barely, wincing a grimace as the muscles of his shoulders probably strained, and grinned up at her.

"Hey." His fingers strayed down to her hair, to her cheek. "Pretty…"

"Of course not," she snapped, relief flooding her with irritation, until she actually registered in. "I­–" and swirled round on Akako. The witch looked slightly uneasy, shrugging the matter off with the nonchalance of a seagull.

"You saved me back then. That's payback. Don't get ideas."

"You saved me too," Aoko remarked, quite correctly it seemed to her. "I alone would never have found my way out of the casle."

Akako's eyes narrowed at her. "You stop pestering me this instant or I will consider hexing you again."

The jibe got a weak smile out of Aoko, who turned back to Kaito–whose own grin was anything but. Which, considering his just recent chat with death, was probably topping the oddest things this week. One never knew what ground one stood with magicians. "How long have you known?"

He wasn't done with touching her yet. Hands with lean, long fingers framed her face. "Known what? That you were the lovely girl I met on May Day or that you were Nakamori Aoko?"

She glared at him, though with half-lidded eyes at his gentle ministrations the effect was rather lost on him. "Both."

"From the very beginning," he chuckled. "I knew who you were on May Day. I'd spotted you in the street and I was intrigued… thought it might be a good opportunity to approach you. And when you turned up at the castle–well your voice and eyes were exactly the same–" fingertips fluttered up to eyelids, and his grin got cheekier– "and besides I'd be a flimsy magician if I didn't recognise such an obvious piece of magic. Had the Witch of the Waste's signature written all over it."

Aoko glowered decisively. "Telling me might have spared me the embarrassment."

"But there'd be no fun in that," Kaito chided, flippantly. He leaned back on one hand, apparently disinclined to move from his seated position on the sidewalk. "Speaking on which, did sneaky Jii-chan mention to you that only pure, undying love could have made such a use of the cursed Pandora stone as you did? or were you completely oblivious?" he clicked his tongue playfully. "How did you find it anyway?" –and then kissed her again, long and lingering.

When she pulled back she was frowning slightly–though by no means displeased. "That sounds as though it's taken from a stupid, cheesy fairy tale."

"Where do you think fairy tales take their sources from?" he murmured, and kissed her. Again. And again. And–

Well.

(Meanwhile, while this went on, and kept going on, in their little bubble of a universe, Conan ran off to check on Ran at the bakery, was spotted while spying, and promptly got huggled; Akako realised that the scarecrow was yet another one of those people who ran about under a curse, turned him back into a man, and eloped with him under a ridiculously short amount of time; Jii-chan rolled his demonic eyes at how well his plan had worked out and swept off to re-build the castle from scratched; the mysterious Organization, finding that they had missed out on the Pandora stone, stopped their raids and retreated to their evil bases to plot revenge; Nakamori quit ripping his hair out; and basically the world went on turning, albeit with some major plot holes nobody really even began to care about.)

-o-

Curtain Call

"Aoko wears blue panties, Aoko wears blue pan–"

"Diieeeeee, fiend!"

"… what is going on here."

"Ah–Akako-chan, Hakuba-kun,–please, do sit down! Tea'll be ready in a moment–"

"Aoko wears–"

"Shut up!"

"EEP!"

"A-ah! Ran-chan, that's Conan-kun you're sitting on–"

"Might I remark that you still haven't caught me."

"Just you wait!"

"Oops–rats, try again–"

"Why are they always that way?"

"Oh, I wouldn't expect anything else of Kaito-botchamma–"

"Come back here you dirty swine–if you keep ducking I swear there'll be no sex for a mmmmph-"

"…"

"… better now?"

"… KAITO!"

…

They lived happily ever after.

-o-

God, this fic was such a monster. It was supposed to be a few scenes long, but then it kept growing like WOAH! and then this. In other news, thanks to this, Summer Leaves is very late. Have some cookies. Blame the muses. *long-suffering sigh* *skips off to school*