I swoop low, land lightly on the roof of an old feudal-style temple with sweeping corners. The stars shine brightly in the sky like millions and millions of fans in the galaxy's biggest theater, and I'm the magician standing center-stage, beneath the moon's spotlight.

I'm not alone on the roof. I turn, my cape sweeping around me, and tip my hat to the girl waiting for me.

Aoko, her lovely brown hair sleek and flowing down her shoulders, robed in a white dress which clings delicately to her tiny figure, looks up at me and smiles shyly.

I grin at her, a cocky half smirk that lights up her face. I spread my arms and she rushes into them and I spin her under the moonlight, my white cape and her white dress flowing together. Then her lips find mine and I kiss her hard, hungrily, fiercely. She tastes like rose petals, feels like the moon—she doesn't resist as my hands slide up her back to the fastenings of her dress, and then…

And then…

"Gah!"

I awoke abruptly in the middle of the night and lurched upright in a frenzy of drowsy alarm, ripping twisted bedcovers off my sweaty body. Ugh…unhealthy thoughts…

The clock read two in the morning. I stared at it for a moment, then rubbed my eyes. Less than an hour of sleep, and now I was quite sure sleep would not return again that night.

Why why why stupid stupid stupid! This is Aoko Aoko AOKO!

Halfway through bashing my brains out against the wall, I sat up and composed myself. I am a gentleman, after all. With as much dignity as possible, I rolled out of bed, grabbed another pair of boxers from the clean laundry piled on the floor, and strode into the bathroom.

I retook to my bed a minute later and sprawled out on top of the cover, my eyes wide open. Best to just not sleep until Aoko left my mind. This sort of thing happens even to the best of us. Right? I shifted to a more uncomfortable position, staring out the window.

Aoko was staring back.

"Gah!"

I yanked the covers over me even as I tried to rise, the effect being that I fell flat on my face on the floor. I don't think I've ever been more mortified in my entire life, and that's including the incident in third grade when the teacher asked me to feed the class fish and I wet myself in front of the entire room.

My fingers fumbled with the latch of the window, and then I darted out of the way as Aoko tumbled in, dressed only in a pair of boxers and an old tee-shirt, her hair—not messy; I would have to call it rumpled. Then she looked up at me from the floor and gave me a sad little smile that nearly shamed me into killing myself. 'Rumpled' is not a healthy thought!

Even so, I nearly made the mistake of offering her a seat on my bed before hastily seizing my desk chair and rolling it under her as she stood up.

"You haven't visited me in the middle of the night since you figured out that boys are different than girls," I laughed.

"My dad hasn't gotten back from the Kid heist tonight," Aoko murmured darkly, as if by way of responding.

"Oh."

I must admit, I was not feeling particularly accommodating to her father, as Inspector Nakamori—a man of reasonable intelligence and talent, though usually unable to keep up with myself—had experienced an unfortunate stroke of brilliance that night and correctly deduced my escape route. The only other way out had been through the rooftop restaurant of the building, the—sick and twisted— proprietor of whichhad come under the delusion that aquarium-lined walls were aesthetically pleasing.

Gah.

I nearly died. No joke.

"So did he catch the Kid?" I inquired, flinging myself flat on my back on the bed so Aoko couldn't see my face.

"No, but he reclaimed the Mermaid's Eye sapphire." Aoko crossed her arms and glowered. "So now he and the task force are out celebrating."

I laughed vindictively, partially assuaged to know that Hakuba Saguru would be getting as little sleep as myself. Aoko's dad celebrates by getting hammered 'till he's senseless and thinks the drinking age is a parental suggestion.

"I just felt especially lonely tonight," said Aoko, her voice interrupting a happy daydream about all the things I would do to a hung-over Hakuba in school the next morning. "Sorry to bother you."

I sat up. Aoko's eyes were dark and dewy, and her lips puckered into a distressed frown; color was slowly mounting in her cheeks. I immediately recognized danger and prudently decided to hold my tongue. Three…two…one…

"Why does he steal?" Aoko slammed her fists onto her own bare knees. "What's the point of stealing something if you're just going to give it right back? Why doesn't he just—just jump off a building without a glider or something!"

I chuckled nervously, raising an eyebrow at her. "I dunno…cause that'd hurt, I guess…"

"It's pointless! Absolutely pointless! And you know what else is pointless? Wearing white at night! He's just asking people to shoot him!"

I winced, absentmindedly rubbing my shoulder where a bullet from the night's heist had grazed me. "Yeah…"

"He's not even a proper thief! At least keep the things you steal or it's not worth hauling my father out all night! Don't you think so, Kaito?"

"Uh…well maybe—maybe—he's…you know…looking for something?"

"Then look for it like a normal person! Don't steal it!" Aoko banged her fists against thin air, flushed with righteous anger.

"Oi, oi, Aoko!" I shushed, but a—very very tiny, insignificant, miniscule—part of me was almost enjoying her tantrum. …I'm ignoring you, perverted little voice in my head…la la la…

"And you!" Aoko jabbed my chest. "You always defend him!"

There's good reason for that… I sighed, slouching back on the bed. "Aoko, please, you're going to wake everyone up."

"Kaito…" She spoke my name plaintively, with an abrupt lack of rage that startled me.

I looked back at her.

Aoko had risen; her fists were clenched and trembling at her sides, her body rigid underneath the tee-shirt. "You always defend him, Kaito." Her voice squeaked with suppressed tears, but two had escaped and were trickling down her cheeks. "Why can't you be on my side for once?"

"Because your side is too narrow," I said as casually as I dared. "Things aren't as black and white as you think." C'mon, Aoko, try and understand me for a second. I saw that she had gone stiff with shock and what would speedily become wrath, and smiled placatingly at her, shrugging, "Maybe there are bigger things happening here than one little girl and her police cop father."

Aoko's gaze dropped to the floor. "Oh." She went very, very still.

I reached out and took her fingers in my own. They were ice-cold and I clenched them in my fist. "It'll be over soon though, Aoko."

She jerked her hands out of mine and took a step back. H-hey, wait! I kind of liked that…lemme hold your hand again, silly girl!

"I've got to get home," Aoko said mechanically, avoiding my gaze, her posture unnaturally straight as she strode to the window.

"Okay…" I frowned, standing to escort her. "See you tomorrow, I guess…" I pulled the curtain back for her. "Same…same place?" She had already dropped out the window.

Women! The one puzzle I'll never crack! I stretched my arms over my head, yawning frustratedly and rubbing my temples. Now I would definitely be getting no sleep whatsoever that night. There was no other word for her hair but 'rumpled'!

Mid-stretch I opened one eye and immediately saw it—a small glass disk with a cord dangling from it, lying almost underneath my bed. I had been practically sitting on it while talking to Aoko.

I picked up my monocle and lifted it up to my face. "How'd you get out of the bag…" I groused, then my frown collapsed. "—Damn!"

I lunged to the open window. "Aoko!" She was running across my yard to the gate; she did not turn or slow, but pressed her hands to her face and ran faster.

"Damn!" I cried again, hurling the monocle at my wall and jumping up on the windowsill. Stupid stupid stupid…Stupid!

All things considered, not one of my better jumps. My eyes were fixed upon the fleeing Aoko—she had unlatched the gate now and was running down the sidewalk—and I landed awry, with too much weight on my left foot. Ack—going to be feeling that tomorrow…

"Aoko!" I called as loud as I dared. "Hey, wait!" Ignoring my ankle, I raced across my yard and leaped over the garden wall, landing just behind Aoko. She yelped and tried to run, but I'm afraid I seized her most rudely and pulled her to a halt.

"Wait a minute, silly! Let me…explain—"

"Let go!" Aoko cried tearfully, elbowing me in the stomach and knocking away my breath. Good lord, woman!

There was no other option. From the pocket of my boxers I produced a small pink capsule—one may never call the Kaitou Kid unprepared—and burst it on Aoko's forehead. She swooned mid-struggle and sagged in my arms, her eyes fluttering closed with one last muttered "Kaito…"

…

It is a miracle that I managed to haul Aoko back up through my second-story window without waking up the rest of the neighborhood, but I did it, and fifteen minutes later Aoko was lying on my bed in peaceful—if gas-induced—repose.

I kept my gaze from her in order to give her privacy until she awoke, spinning slowly on my computer chair.

Aoko knew. Aoko found out. What the hell am I supposed to do now? She is not stupid; in fact, she is very nearly as smart as me. And I had come under suspicion of being the Kaitou Kid before. She would remember. She had figured it out. Think of something!

For the sake of the continued safety of my mission—not to mention my person—I quickly formulated a falsehood. It was not difficult, even if I had been finding the sight of Aoko asleep on my bed slightly distracting.

The monocle? Two bucks at the mall, stupid, I'm going to wear it at the Kid's next heist and cheer him on!

I kicked off from my desk and spun faster in the chair.

The sleeping gas? That's for Hakuba! What d'you think Sensei will do when her British teachers' pet starts snoring in class?

Aoko whipped by, again and again, the details of her face blurring with my speed.

You ridiculous moron! How could you even think I'm the Kid!

I closed my eyes, feeling pressure building inside my head.

Aoko, I am not the Kaitou Kid, okay? I'm not!

I kicked again, too hard, and the chair fell over, dumping me onto the floor.

At the sound of the crash, Aoko jerked upright and stared around wildly, her eyes slightly glazed over and her hair mussed. "Kaito!" She blinked. "What—"

I scrambled to my knees, though the whole room still seemed to be spinning violently, seized Aoko's hand, and babbled, "Aoko! Good morning! Did you think I'm the Kaitou Kid? 'Cause I'm not! I'm not!"

Then I became aware of how idiotic—not to mention suspicious—I sounded, and slowed down. "You freaked out, Aoko…" I said casually. "Why?"

Aoko just looked at me. Her face still weaved drunkenly before my dizzy eyes. "What the hell's going on here?"

I forced a laugh. "Let me explain, okay, Aoko? You see…you see…"

Yes?" she prompted. "Yes, Kaito?"

Though she must have been extraordinarily disoriented from the knockout gas I could see a sort of desperation in her dark eyes, in the way she inclined her head toward me.

She wants me to tell her I'm not Kid.

"Kaito?" Aoko's face was tilted towards mine, nervous, as if afraid to hope.

Say it! Say it's a joke!

I couldn't. Not like this.

You've lied before!

"Kaito?"

I never lied to Aoko, not once. I just didn't tell her the whole truth. And I most certainly could not lie to her now, now that she was sitting on my bed in boxers and a tee-shirt, her bleary brown eyes fixed on me, completely trusting, waiting for me to reassure her.

"People tell me the knockout gas makes them groggy and thirsty," I said softly, handing her the glass of water I had prepared. She accepted it impatiently, her eyes never leaving my face. I offered her a debonair grin. "It hits Hakuba especially hard. He always liked Earl Grey before, but I claim full credit for getting him dependent on a pot of tea a day."

Aoko choked on her water. Her eyes flashed to me, widening, then to the monocle lying on the floor still, undamaged even after being dashed against the wall.

The water glass fell to the floor with a crash. "You!"

"Me," I said composedly, kneeling chivalrously by her side, fingers interlocked on my leg, debonair grin in place, complete with one slightly arched eyebrow. Cool, collected, in control, and desperately handsome, that was me.

…Stupid stupid stupid why'd you leave the damn monocle on the damn floor stupid stupid moron…

"You're Kaitou Kid?"

"I am." I grinned, then found myself faltering at her reproachful glare. "Aoko—"

"YOU! My—Kaito! You!"

"Aoko please, it's two-thirty in the morning."

"I trusted you!" Aoko raged, her face contorted with fury. "I tried so hard to prove it wasn't you! It couldn't be you! They all said—but I knew! I knew! Kaito—"

At times like this, it's best to just let Aoko release all her rage without interference, but I couldn't risk my mother waking up. "Aoko, don't make me knock you out again."

"But…but…" she recoiled from me, her eyes smoldering, confused, wrathful, hurting. "Why you?"

"Because the world isn't black and white," I said, still kneeling beside the bed, looking up at her. Aoko began to tremble as if with rage, her eyes wide and horrified as they searched my own.

I expected her to erupt, to pull herself up on her tiptoes in her silly little attempt to tower over me, to beat me with everything she could get her hands on, to shout until her face turned from red to blue and my mother woke up and grounded me for life and her father showed up and castrated me for letting Aoko into my bedroom in the middle of the night.

Instead, Aoko deflated, curling in on herself. God, I thought that was bad, but…Then she tilted her head back, her hair rippling around her shoulders, and cried.

Gentlemen like those of which my father raised me to be pride ourselves on understanding women. Gentlemen thieves like my father posthumously inspired me to be pride ourselves on manipulating that understanding to produce the desired results.

However, at that moment, I had absolutely no idea what to do. Most girls you just hand them a rose and they practically beg you to steal from them…but I've been giving Aoko roses all our lives and she's never given me an inch I didn't earn.

"Aoko, no…" Before logic caught up with impulse I sat next to her on the bed. "Aoko…" I put my arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" She pressed her face against my shoulder and pounded at my chest with her fist. "You're sorry!" she wailed, crying harder, her shoulders shaking underneath my hands.

I am such a bastard.

Gently I rocked her back and forth. She protested, her voice muffled and squeakier than ever, shaking her head against my shoulder—her hair was tickling my nose—and beating at my chest with both fists now, but I didn't let go until finally she was drained dry. I had always done this when someone—and by 'someone' I mean myself—made Aoko upset.

"Don't tell me you're sorry," she'd huff in that silly voice of hers. "You're a magician. Telling doesn't mean anything. Show me you're sorry, Kuroba Kaito!"

I released her and stood.

"Get up."

Aoko shrank away from my hand, wiping her face with her fingertips. "Get away from—"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," I said apologetically, then seized her by the elbows.

"What are you doing?" Aoko stammered, a note of fierceness still unmistakable in her squeaky voice. I snatched my backpack and the monocle off the floor, opened the door, and pulled Aoko out by the hand.

"I won't tell you."

"Kid!" she growled, trying to wrench her hand free. "Kaito!"

"I'm showing you, silly," I rolled my eyes at her. "We're going onto the roof."

Aoko let me lead her onto the roof of my house without protest, but once I closed the skylight and turned to her— "Aoko—"

She punched me right across the face. I toppled over from my crouch, skidded painfully across the roofing and lay there, stunned, my eyes closed, little white lights doing the hokey-pokey in my head. You put your cracked skull in, you put your cracked skull out…

Somehow I managed to open my eyes enough to perceive Aoko approaching, her footsteps making soft thumps against the roof.

I would make no moves to defend myself; that I had already decided. Anything Aoko did to me, I deserved. I raised my head painfully and there she was, truly towering over me, her fists clenched at her side, pearly tears dripping down her face, the moonlight dancing in her hair like fairy dust, her eyes wide, overbright—

She's terrified.

I sat up, ignoring the throbbing in my skull. "Aoko," I tried to say. It came out sounding like "Ow."

Aoko sniffled loudly. "Are you okay?"

I very nearly fell down again. Am I okay? Stupid girl, I'd be murdering myself if I were you!

But no, she was asking if her sworn enemy was okay.

Hell with boxer shorts and bedcovers. This is what makes a girl really special.

…Good lord that sounded sappy.

"It's nothing, I've had much worse." I sat up and straddled the ridge of the roof, looking up at her. She had just realized why I came to school in band-aids and casts so often.

"I knew you weren't that clumsy," she said, not angrily, but not teasingly either.

I laughed embarrassedly, then resumed seriousness. "Sit down, Aoko." I reached up my hand to her. "Please."

She hesitated, her eyes darting from me to my hand and to the monocle in my other palm. "I hate you," she said, as if testing the words to see if they were true.

I had been expecting those words, but I didn't think they would hurt that much.

I smiled gently at her, knowing that there was cockiness in the grin, and also a mark of the odd, swelling pain in my chest that I couldn't seem to hide.

"No you don't."

She took my hand.

And sat down right before me, her knees brushing against mine.

Despite the cool of the summer night, Aoko's presence was like a flash of fire, unlike anything I had experienced before; hers was a warm, tender heat, an expectant innocence as she waited for me to explain.

Wow. That sounded REALLY sappy. Am I going soft?

Do I mind?

Slowly, my eyes never leaving hers, I reached behind me and pulled up my backpack. Haltingly, I showed her the fake bottom wherein lay my Kid disguise. Gently, I passed her every article of clothing, from the socks to the tie to the gun holster to the top hat—don't ask me how that fit in there, Dad was a genius—and she took them reluctantly, her expression mixed and battling as she touched the guise of the man she so adamantly hated.

"Aoko, the Kaitou Kid's not a man," I said.

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Is that why you're so good at impersonating women?"

Thanks a lot, Aoko-sama.

"He's not," I insisted, trying to make her feel my seriousness. "He's a mask." I raised an eyebrow at her. "You can't hate a mask, can you, Aoko?"

Aoko looked at me, uncertain, clutching my top hat between her fingers. "What do you mean?"

I explained.

I told her about Dad, the original Kaitou Kid, the creator of the legend I had borrowed—the legend I was borrowing. I told her about Dad's death at the hands of a black organization, just because he, a thief, stood up for what was right when millions of 'good guys' had been unable or unwilling.

I told her about finding my father's secret room full of Kid equipment, about my eagerness to embrace this one chance of discovering how he died, about the quiet shock and then the surge of adrenaline that had come with learning that my father truly was the legendary thief, about how cool I had felt the moment I decided to call myself Kaitou Kid.

I told her about the heists: the thrill, the danger, the sensation of feeling my heart pound in my ears. I told her about free-falling, about laughing down the barrel of a gun.

I told her about the Pandora Gem, and how much blood it had claimed.

I told her about Poker Face, and why I could never, ever let anyone see past Kid to the real me. Not even her. I told her that Poker Face has no exceptions; Poker Face is cold, unrelenting.

I told her about the fear, day in and day out, that someone would figure out who I was, the fear that I had never truly acknowledged to myself until being stared down by those clever blue eyes.

Aoko was silent for a long time after I had finally finished. This was such a strange sight that I very nearly attempted to take her temperature. What have you done with the real Aoko? The one who tries to beat my face in with a mop in homeroom every day?

Then, I realized that this mature, watchful, and—marginally—quieter Aoko had been around for weeks now, perhaps months, and I hadn't noticed. After growing up with Aoko—inseparable since that day by the clock tower—I had missed something in her life.

This Aoko wasn't yelling. She wasn't swearing, or screaming, or trying to inflict some form of bodily harm upon my person. She just wanted to know 'why.' The silence howled between us like a living echo.

She didn't recoil when I leaned forward slightly. We were, after all, sitting closer together than I had realized.

You wanna know why, Aoko?

Her eyes were bright, shimmering: a little hurt, a little scared, but trusting, fixed on me and only me.

Because even without the boxers, the bedsheets, and the amazing dreams, I'd still…

I'd still…

I kissed her.

Nose to nose, on the lips, nothing withheld, under the light of a full moon.

Woah.

Without my conscious awareness of moving, we were kneeling together, my arms around her waist, her arms so tightly around my chest that I could hardly breathe. Then it was with a note of surprise that I realized we had stopped kissing, and that her head was on my shoulder, my face buried in her thick hair.

Ungentlemanly thoughts may do well for some men, but not for a thief like me. At that moment with Aoko, I would not have let her go for anything. Not if every single policeman in Japan showed up in my yard to arrest me. Not if the moon blacked out forever right then and there. Not if Aoko whispered in my ear "Make love to me, Kaito." No, not even then…stupid little perverted voice…

It may sound sappy, but it's the truth. I didn't want to ever let go.

It was Aoko who pulled back first. She looked up at me, her face inches from mine, still gleaming with tears, and whispered half-nervously, half-teasingly, "What am I going to do about my father?"

"Please don't tell him," I said in a small, humble voice. "He might get a little mad."

Aoko giggled, warily at first, but then I joined her and we laughed together, for the first time since I could remember.

I missed you, Aoko.

"Okay, I won't tell…Kid…" she poked me in the forehead. "If you take me flying on your glider!"

I stood, grinning my best, most debonair, cockiest I'm-Kaitou-Kid-and-I-want-you-to-know-it smirk. And it was pretty damn good, considering the pajamas I still sported.

She saw right through it anyway.

"My pleasure."

I offered my hand again and Aoko took it, beaming, happier than I had seen her in a long time, giddy as she watched me gather my costume. I winked at her and she let out an involuntary shriek of delight as I disappeared in a poof of smoke and emerged fully dressed. She nearly leaped on me when I was finished, just as if we were still children—well, almost—but I held up a finger.

"First…"

I kissed her again.

9