Ficbit: Communications 7/?
Sep. 14th, 2004 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soc_puppetCommunications
Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito
Summary: Aoko does some research.
Aoko sat back in her chair and flipped open a manila folder. Taking the top sheet, she placed it face down in a scanner. The machinery whirred pleasantly as she directed the software. The lid was briefly outlined in light that moved from one end to the other, and then an image appeared on the screen.
It was a fairly standard police document listing basic details about a subject. The subject himself, however, was far from standard.
Kaitous, or "phantom thieves," themselves are not terribly unusual. In any given year three or four new ones appear, generally on the main islands. Nor is the phenomenon unique to Japan, though in different regions phantom thieves are characterized differently.
What made this subject stand out was how long he'd lasted. Nearly half of all Kaitou cases end between the time the notice was sent and the time the theft was to be committed. An additional third end during the first heist. Just less than a sixth last two or three, and a remaining handful managed to survive a few months of 'work' intact.
Aoko saved the image and scanned the next one.
The Kaitou Kid had lasted for years before his disappearance.
The mouse clicked and the monitor hummed faintly.
His present status was 'Inactive, Presumed Dead'.
Aoko's movements were close to mechanical as she scanned documents and tried not to think about what she was doing, that she was be breaking the law.
When he had been active, there was no mistaking the Kid as anything but alive.
She tried not to think that what Kaito might do in a few years would definitely be illegal.
Nearly every Kaitou has a gimmick of some sort, and the Kid certainly wasn't the first to use sleight-of-hand, but he had a certain flair that made him stand out. Even if he hadn't lasted as long as he had, he would have been remembered for his style.
She tried really hard not to think that it would be her father chasing him.
There had, of course, been copycats—more when he'd been active, though there had been two since he'd vanished. The Kid had taken his reputation quite seriously, and when copycats had attempted to use his name in his place the police often ended up with some unexpected help. The fact that the Kid hadn't shown up for the two most recent attempts to steal his title seemed to confirm rumors of his untimely demise.
She tried not to think of anything at all really beyond 'scan,' 'copy,' and 'save'.
(From down the hall there was a groan of bedsprings and the rustle of shifting cloth as a body stirred, and Aoko stopped breathing. She really didn't want to think about what would happen if her father found her here, in his office, in the wee hours of the morning, copying his documents on the Kaitou Kid—
But no, he was only rolling over. Aoko remembered to breathe as his snore started up again, muffled by the walls and the distance between them.)
Sometimes Aoko's father would look back through his old Kid files. It was usually when he needed a break, or to organize his thoughts on a more recent case, but sometimes it was just because. It was like a hobby for him, Aoko supposed, to go back in time or memory and try to puzzle out his greatest adversary; to reminisce; to wonder at why the Kid had vanished as unexpectedly as he'd appeared. Nakamori Ginzo didn't seem to want to talk about it, so Aoko didn't ask.
If she stopped to think about what she was doing, or why, or what it meant, she might stop or run or break down and tell her father or just give up—and that she really couldn't do, because this was too important for her to quit now; too much depended on it.
So Aoko kept scanning, reaching for new folders as the old ones were copied through until she reached out her hand and met empty air.
Aoko turned and blinked, confused, until it dawned on her that she had scanned everything. A glance at the clock told her that she still had a few hours before school started, so if she hurried she could still get a little sleep.
Silently, Aoko cleaned up the files scattered around her father's office. Before shutting down the computer, she ejected a very important disk. Tired and satisfied, Aoko turned out the lights, shut the door and went to bed.
--------
"Aoko!" Kaito pounded on the Nakamori's front door. "C'mon, we're going to be late—"
The door swung open under his fist and Aoko ducked around it. There were shadows under her eyes and her hair looked half-brushed. "Morning Kaito," she said with a yawn.
Kaito blinked at the strangeness of it, then switched to a teasing grin. "This is certainly a switch. Usually, you have to drag me out of bed, but today it's the other way around."
Aoko shrugged. "I was up late." She smiled at him then, and Kaito decided to let the matter drop.
"Whatever."
They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks, then Aoko glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I made something for you," she admitted with a blush.
Kaito's eyebrows went up. "You did?"
Aoko nodded. "Here," she stopped to root through her bag, then handed him a burned CD. "It's everything I could find on your dad—reviews, performance dates, invitations, the works. You'd be surprised at what my dad kept."
Kaito's eyes widened as he accepted the disk. "You mean—this is—?"
"Yeah. Don't tell anyone, though." She winked conspiratorially at him.
A grin stretched across his lips. "Of course. Thank you."
She smiled prettily at him then, traces of her blush still staining her cheeks. "Well, we are in this together, after all."
After that, Kaito felt that even if they both got detentions and had to stand in the hall with water buckets all day it would be worth being late.
—End—
There's a whole bunch of italics and stuff I need to put in, but I'm going to do that later. Right now I'm tired and copping out.
Edit (10-09-04): Italics fixed ^_^
Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito
Summary: Aoko does some research.
Aoko sat back in her chair and flipped open a manila folder. Taking the top sheet, she placed it face down in a scanner. The machinery whirred pleasantly as she directed the software. The lid was briefly outlined in light that moved from one end to the other, and then an image appeared on the screen.
It was a fairly standard police document listing basic details about a subject. The subject himself, however, was far from standard.
Kaitous, or "phantom thieves," themselves are not terribly unusual. In any given year three or four new ones appear, generally on the main islands. Nor is the phenomenon unique to Japan, though in different regions phantom thieves are characterized differently.
What made this subject stand out was how long he'd lasted. Nearly half of all Kaitou cases end between the time the notice was sent and the time the theft was to be committed. An additional third end during the first heist. Just less than a sixth last two or three, and a remaining handful managed to survive a few months of 'work' intact.
Aoko saved the image and scanned the next one.
The Kaitou Kid had lasted for years before his disappearance.
The mouse clicked and the monitor hummed faintly.
His present status was 'Inactive, Presumed Dead'.
Aoko's movements were close to mechanical as she scanned documents and tried not to think about what she was doing, that she was be breaking the law.
When he had been active, there was no mistaking the Kid as anything but alive.
She tried not to think that what Kaito might do in a few years would definitely be illegal.
Nearly every Kaitou has a gimmick of some sort, and the Kid certainly wasn't the first to use sleight-of-hand, but he had a certain flair that made him stand out. Even if he hadn't lasted as long as he had, he would have been remembered for his style.
She tried really hard not to think that it would be her father chasing him.
There had, of course, been copycats—more when he'd been active, though there had been two since he'd vanished. The Kid had taken his reputation quite seriously, and when copycats had attempted to use his name in his place the police often ended up with some unexpected help. The fact that the Kid hadn't shown up for the two most recent attempts to steal his title seemed to confirm rumors of his untimely demise.
She tried not to think of anything at all really beyond 'scan,' 'copy,' and 'save'.
(From down the hall there was a groan of bedsprings and the rustle of shifting cloth as a body stirred, and Aoko stopped breathing. She really didn't want to think about what would happen if her father found her here, in his office, in the wee hours of the morning, copying his documents on the Kaitou Kid—
But no, he was only rolling over. Aoko remembered to breathe as his snore started up again, muffled by the walls and the distance between them.)
Sometimes Aoko's father would look back through his old Kid files. It was usually when he needed a break, or to organize his thoughts on a more recent case, but sometimes it was just because. It was like a hobby for him, Aoko supposed, to go back in time or memory and try to puzzle out his greatest adversary; to reminisce; to wonder at why the Kid had vanished as unexpectedly as he'd appeared. Nakamori Ginzo didn't seem to want to talk about it, so Aoko didn't ask.
If she stopped to think about what she was doing, or why, or what it meant, she might stop or run or break down and tell her father or just give up—and that she really couldn't do, because this was too important for her to quit now; too much depended on it.
So Aoko kept scanning, reaching for new folders as the old ones were copied through until she reached out her hand and met empty air.
Aoko turned and blinked, confused, until it dawned on her that she had scanned everything. A glance at the clock told her that she still had a few hours before school started, so if she hurried she could still get a little sleep.
Silently, Aoko cleaned up the files scattered around her father's office. Before shutting down the computer, she ejected a very important disk. Tired and satisfied, Aoko turned out the lights, shut the door and went to bed.
--------
"Aoko!" Kaito pounded on the Nakamori's front door. "C'mon, we're going to be late—"
The door swung open under his fist and Aoko ducked around it. There were shadows under her eyes and her hair looked half-brushed. "Morning Kaito," she said with a yawn.
Kaito blinked at the strangeness of it, then switched to a teasing grin. "This is certainly a switch. Usually, you have to drag me out of bed, but today it's the other way around."
Aoko shrugged. "I was up late." She smiled at him then, and Kaito decided to let the matter drop.
"Whatever."
They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks, then Aoko glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I made something for you," she admitted with a blush.
Kaito's eyebrows went up. "You did?"
Aoko nodded. "Here," she stopped to root through her bag, then handed him a burned CD. "It's everything I could find on your dad—reviews, performance dates, invitations, the works. You'd be surprised at what my dad kept."
Kaito's eyes widened as he accepted the disk. "You mean—this is—?"
"Yeah. Don't tell anyone, though." She winked conspiratorially at him.
A grin stretched across his lips. "Of course. Thank you."
She smiled prettily at him then, traces of her blush still staining her cheeks. "Well, we are in this together, after all."
After that, Kaito felt that even if they both got detentions and had to stand in the hall with water buckets all day it would be worth being late.
—End—
There's a whole bunch of italics and stuff I need to put in, but I'm going to do that later. Right now I'm tired and copping out.
Edit (10-09-04): Italics fixed ^_^
