Notes:

I think I have never really described much about how Kaito sees Conan, more about how Conan feels about KID, like how Conan admires his personalities or figures, so in this one, I want to fix up the hole.
KaiCon ( KID x Conan) + KaiShin / ShinKai ( Conan x Ishikawa Kaito)
No other tangled love involved. Yes...... and more adventures and actions when it comes to BO.
This time, they finally meet each other in small size.

It was a day when misfortune arrived in droves. Above the head, even the vast and sanctified full moon seemed to mock KID with a detached cruelty.

His head spun, a thick fog clouding his mind. Muffled voices went through the ears—a man and a woman speaking—the voices drifted to his ears as he dragged himself forward with agonizing slowness. His body felt like it had been filled with lead, every limb refusing to obey. The grass brushing his fingertips felt unnaturally soft, offering no grip. His eyes opened slightly, barely enough to perceive the chaos around him.

The world tilted, spinning around.

"You're the one who shot him down, and now you want me to clean up your mess?"

Vermouth folded her arms and stepped away, clearly uninterested in dealing with the aftermath. Bourbon stared down at KID's barely-breathing body__he hovered on the edge of consciousness, teetering between awareness and oblivion.

The bullet wound in his thigh was Bourbon's gift to him, but the one near his lung—who knows where that had come from?

Still, as an undercover agent with the Public Security Bureau, Amuro recognized KID. They had met once or twice. No matter who this thief really was, Amuro couldn't bring himself to deal a killing blow. In his mind, Kaitou KID wasn't a heinous villain. He should be arrested—not buried.

Had Amuro encountered the infamous international thief under different circumstances, he wouldn't have hesitated to call in backup. But tonight, he stood in Central Park under the Organization's guise, and Vermouth was with him—a woman whose role was labeled as cooperative, but in truth, she was watching him. Her intuition was sharper than any blade.

Bourbon couldn't risk his mission.

Left with no better option, he aimed not for the organs or any fatal place, but the thigh. One shot—down came the white dove from the sky.

A cruel twist of fate, nothing more. KID had simply stumbled into the Organization's secret exchange by chance. That was all. If not for that, he wouldn't have become tonight's prey. Gin had issued a command through Chianti's earpiece: eliminate any witnesses. No one left.

"Don't look at me, Vermouth... I only had one bullet," Bourbon said. She scowled.

"Don't think I'll get my hands dirty either. I didn't bring a gun tonight. In five minutes, Vodka's contact will arrive. No screw-ups."

The irony was—Vermouth didn't want to finish KID either. She knew exactly who lay beneath that white tailored suit. She'd rather die than take the life of Sensei's only son. That meant protecting KID without Bourbon's suspicion.

Though neither knew the other's thoughts, their ideal outcome was the same. That made things a lot easier.

"Then... how about we try the new drug on him?" Vermouth said, hesitant. Her hands trembled as she took out the capsule—hands that had once taken countless lives with unshakable precision. And yet, now, she could barely hold the pill steady. She knew the drug could very well kill him. But it was the only option. She did not know who Bourbon really was, and she wouldn't trust him either.

"This... isn't—" Bourbon swallowed the words 'the drug's unreliable' . Vermouth's glare silenced him.

"Got a problem? Then you handle it. I'm not dirtying my hands."

Bourbon nodded and took the capsule. Vermouth scoffed and flipped her blonde hair as she walked away. He swallowed hard.

If KID survived and escaped like Conan had—as a child—then that would be the best-case scenario. Bourbon scribbled a note, shoved it into KID's palm, and exhaled deeply.

The thief had been a thorn in the police's eyes, no doubt. But compared to the Organization's pure darkness and despair, he was a flicker of light. Bourbon could only hope that KID would get over this near-death ordeal.

Bourbon stood, grabbed the back of KID's suit collar, and dragged him toward the park's fountain. Lifting the KID's bangs, Bourbon slipped the capsule into his mouth. Then, he let go.

Splash.

Gravity claimed KID, pulling him under.

"Aniki, time's up."

Beep. Beep. Beep. The mission timer hit zero.

Vodka saw Bourbon dispose of the intruder and reported to Gin. The mission proceeded as planned. Vodka reached the rendezvous point and retrieved a black briefcase.

"Vodka! Get to the intersection now!"

"Aniki! Why are the cops here?!"

Sirens and screeching tires grew louder. Inspector Nakamori's furious shouting followed. Vodka clutched the case tighter and dove into the waiting car. Gin crushed the accelerator and barked an order: "It must've been KID who tipped them off. We're pulling out—everyone. Retreat!"

—-----------------------

So... is this how I die?

Ha... The cold water invaded his nostrils, piercing his lungs. Light danced on the water's surface, shifting with each ripple, distant and surreal—like the moon conspiring with fate to mock his final breath. Kuroba Kaito woke to pain, sharp as needles stabbing into his chest. Something shredded him from the inside, trying to hollow him out.

If he was going to die, he didn't want to die in a child's body. With a last flicker of willpower, he tried to spit the bitter medicine from his mouth. A small piece emerged—but then came the choking, unbearable pain. He turned his head instinctively and swallowed more water instead.

Agony spread from his chest to his nasal passages and temples. His skull throbbed.

No oxygen... no air... it hurt so much!

His lungs burned. His ribs felt crushed under shards of glass. He tried to breathe, but only water filled his mouth. For what felt like eternity, he struggled—watching helplessly as his final air bubbles floated upward, further and further from reach. That light... his world... drifted beyond him.

It's over. This time, there's no way out...

He vaguely remembered Conan saying that the transformation would burn like fire. But there was no heat. Only the icy grip of drowning.

"I guess I wasn't the lucky survivor then." He thought.

Wanting to remember something, anything—but the world was a blur.

His body, weightless like foam, drifted. Every inch of skin was kissed by cold and despair. Limbs turned from weak to numb, waves of sharp, tingling pain warning of suffocation and hypothermia. But he could do nothing. Only surrender to the slow descent into darkness.

I'm sorry, Mom... I'm sorry, Jii-chan... I'm sorry, Inspector Nakamori... Aoko... Heh... If there's another life—may we meet again,Meitantei.

Drowning was suffering. It offers no moment for nostalgia, no curtain call of memories. As darkness swallowed everything, his final thought was—

Just wait for me a little longer, Dad. I'm coming to find you.

He had no idea how long had passed when his eyes snapped open. He found himself half-hanging over the edge of the pool.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

The moment his mouth opened, a flood of water spewed out. Kuroba Kaito braced himself against the pool's edge, a motion that would usually be effortless, but now felt as daunting as scaling a fortress wall.

When his body touched the bottom of the pool, it was like a switch__ restart everything all over. After that, sensation, breath, pain, all came rushing back. Kuroba was sure he'd lost consciousness, when did he completely cut off from the world, and yet in the final moment, it was as if someone hit reboot. Strength surged into his limbs, the invisible lead weights vanished. With the last ember of his will, he broke through the water's surface.

He gasped, over and over again, choking on the cold.

Only after the tenth try did he finally climb out of the fountain—just to collapse onto the grass a moment later.

"Thank god Meitantei isn't here to see this... he'd never let this pass."

Kuroba Kaito stripped off his soaked suit jacket and pulled from its pocket a water-logged piece of paper___discarded clothing.

"Damn it..... but why didn't my body change? Whatever, I'll figure it out later."

Still, surviving—he had to count his blessings.

Kuroba had no clear memory of what happened before, but time wasn't offering him the luxury to reflect.

"MOVE IT! Search every inch of this park! I don't care if he's disguised as a tree or dressed like a damn fish—don't let him slip through! You hear me?!"

"Sir! Group A reporting—no suspicious individuals spotted."

"WHAT?! I said to check every single bush!" Nakamori was nearly stomping the ground in rage. "He can disguise himself as anyone ! Maybe even Anything! Search thoroughly! No slacking off!"

Nakamori's furious bellows snapped Kuroba further awake. In the distance, more sirens screamed, reinforcements arriving.

"I saw him land! Ha! The glider must've malfunctioned—this is it! A once-in-a-lifetime chance! Even God is on my side!"

And it wasn't just officers— dogs had been dispatched too.

Kuroba Kaito quickly stripped off his suit, now down to a soaked blue dress shirt and a white cape, sneezing constantly as he bolted toward the woods.

On his way, he stumbled across the briefcase he'd dropped earlier. He figured he'd mail it back to the Tokyo MPD later. If anyone else picked it up, the blame would fall on him.

Clutching the briefcase, he raced through the underbrush cloaked in night, and made it home before 2:30.

Soaking and maybe caught a little cold, he peeled off his clothes, hit the hot water for a quick rinse, then he collapsed straight into bed.

The next morning, he sat up in bed—dwarfed by oversized pajamas, staring at a childish face in the mirror—and screamed.

"Are you KIDDING me?! I just said it last night! And now this....... ?!"

Kuroba jumped down from bed, following the trail of water drops from the front door to the bathroom. He sat at the dining table, opened the briefcase—and went pale.

Not the sapphire-laced jewelry set known as "The Last Dance."

But a neat row of stark white capsules, striped in red, their shells printed with strange codes.

"Wait a sec... did I grab the wrong one?!"

—------------------------------------------

Rules for Survival:

Wisdom in simplicity, skill in clumsiness, eloquence in silence. They said, "One knows most who speaks least.Play dumb, play it well. Keep grades just above average. Blend in as a mediocre elementary schooler.Be home by 9 p.m. On full moons, attend high school classes. On new moons, hang out with new friends. Minimize drama. Stay out of trouble! KID's heist must end before 5 A.M. , before he turned back into the child's body.Unless absolutely necessary, avoid catching the attention of the Shounen Tanteidan (Junior Detective League).Not sure if the Protagonist halo will help or hurt survival odds post-shrinkage—best stay far, far away from Edogawa Conan.Know the enemy, know yourself, and in every battle you will be victorious. Intel is power. Best way to get it? He had to get near Meitantei. But be damn careful—never leave fingerprints, never leave any trace.And the most critical rule of all: NEVER let the Meitantei suspect you!

Kuroba Kaito couldn't figure it out. He had mastered the art of feigned foolishness, played dumb when needed, diligently posed as an ordinary, aloof classmate, someone on the periphery of school life—cautious, restrained. So why, despite all this, did he still manage to catch the eye of Edogawa Conan?

Cursing the heavens while shrinking even smaller into himself, he pressed deeper into the back of the storage cabinet—don't give him that destined-rival-lovers nonsense. Kuroba Kaito wasn't buying it.

Conan took a deep breath and stared intently at the wooden supply cabinet in the art room. The door creaked open, revealing only brooms and cleaning cloths askew. The rest of the room remained neat, thanks to the art teacher's diligence—art supplies organized by group, paintings meticulously framed and hung. But like a child's room that looks tidy at first glance—tidy only due to a parent's stern hand and the lure of mobile games—open the closet and the truth spills out.

No one was inside the broom cabinet, but Conan wasn't surprised. He tilted his head up and fixed his gaze on the overhead storage above. Behind the door, he could hear the steady rhythm of breath, the faint rustle of cloth as someone shifted. Behind the same door, Kuroba Kaito narrowed his eyes. The heat was oppressive, and he was trapped.

All he could do was plead silently: Please, just go away. Go kick your damn soccer ball! // Begone, foul spirit!

Useless.

It seemed Kuroba had already burned through all his good luck during his heists as Kaitou KID. Not even a divine plea would shake off fate. Conan kept his hands in his pockets, not rushing to coax the hidden boy out. Kuroba, curled in the cramped space, was on the brink of suffocation. But the idea of crawling out, disheveled and pathetic in front of the detective, made him rather throw himself into a fish tank.

"You know hiding doesn't fix anything, Ishikawa-kun. Even if you manage to avoid them today, those kids will keep at it tomorrow—stealing your books, hiding your shoes, throwing paper balls and erasers, snatching your notes and assignments. Eating your snacks."

Kuroba sighed. He didn't really care about that stuff. Why should the great KID concern himself with a bunch of snot-nosed seven-year-olds?

Didn't the great detective understand? The real reason he'd rather suffer heat stroke than crawl out... was Conan himself! Since Meitantei wouldn't leave, neither would Kuroba. So, he turned his thoughts to solving the trigonometry problem he'd been stuck on a few days earlier.

"Do you know why bullies target you?" Conan asked after a long silence, seeing Ishikawa wasn't going to reply. "You don't have to worry. I'm not one of them. I just got back from a week off—wasn't here when you transferred last week. You probably don't even know my name."

//No! It's because I know exactly who you are that I'm refusing to come out! This has nothing to do with those brats!//

"But Ayumi told me what those boys did to you."

"It didn't really bother me," Kuroba rolled his eyes. The air was thick and sticky, like being soaked in a vat of syrup. His voice muffled, he muttered, "The only thing that pissed me off... was when they took my chocolate cupcake."

That part, at least, was true.

"...If you don't care, they'll only get worse. Today it's your books. What about tomorrow? What if they think it's fun to drag you into the bathroom and beat you up? Hide your clothes?" Conan's insistence was giving Kuroba a headache. Add to that the thick layer of dust inside the cabinet and the oppressive summer air, and his nose started twitching. Midway through Conan's speech, a faint sniffle escaped from inside the cabinet.

"Don't cry, it's not your fault," Conan said.

Kuroba's face went flat. He wasn't crying—he was sneezing!

Several times in a row, no less. But he didn't dare let it be heard, stifling them hard into his gym uniform. When did sneezing in a dusty cabinet turn into secretly weeping in hiding ?

Still mulling over how to get the new classmate to come out while making his position clear, Conan put his hands on his hips: "Listen to me. Even if it's not your fault, you have to face it. Hiding in here won't solve anything. Life's unfair. It's survival of the fittest out there. If you want to stand tall in front of them, you've got to fight for it."

He paused, then gave a dry chuckle. "Not that you'd understand any of this. Ishikawa-kun, come on out. I'll help you confront Kuraki and the others."

He watched as a small hand finally pushed open the cabinet door. A little boy's head peeked out, soft brown hair tousled like a teddy bear. His slim, delicate frame dropped effortlessly from above. Conan's brow furrowed. He hadn't paid the new kid much attention before—only caught glimpses in class today—but now, face to face, he noticed the disheveled hair and the bruises lining the boy's arms. Unmistakable.

Word had it that the new student had transferred just last Friday. No one really knew the reason why he came here, but at first, everyone seemed to take a liking to him. That was, until he caught the attention of the class bullies.

On his very first day, he managed to make himself a target.

During the break after the first period, Edogawa Conan casually asked a few questions, but Genta and Ayumi instantly clamped his mouth shut. The group huddled over to the schoolyard opposite the classroom, speaking in hushed tones.

"Conan, you'd better keep your distance from the new kid," Genta warned. "He's been targeted by Kuraki."

"Hey, how can you say that?! If a classmate's being bullied, you expect Conan to just sit there and watch? What if it was me or Haibara getting picked on instead?"

"I'd punch him right in the nose!" Genta replied without hesitation.

"Kuraki?" Conan echoed, incredulous. "I know he's got a bad temper, always getting into fights with students from other schools and harassing girls and teachers alike—but it's just the first day! What could the new kid possibly have done?"

Hate or affection usually has a cause. Kuraki might be a handful, sure, but to go after someone the very first day? That was nonsense.

"I don't really know," Ayumi said, frowning. "We girls actually wanted to talk to the new boy. But then... then during lunch, Kuraki started stirring up trouble. First, he snatched Ishikawa's lunch, then deliberately spilled orange juice all over his uniform." She knit her brows, clearly sympathizing with the transfer student.

"I'm pretty sure they beat him up, too. After class, they cornered him by the back door. I didn't dare get too close, but when I saw his arm after he took off his jacket today... No way! I'm telling the teacher!"

"Absolutely!" Mitsuhiko chimed in late, but quickly caught up to speed. "We have to report this kind of thing! Oh, by the way, Haibara couldn't come; the teacher called her over to help."

"But Ishikawa said he'd handle it himself," Genta muttered, reluctant to get involved. Conan turned deliberately to Mitsuhiko. "So what did Ishikawa do to make Kuraki react like this?"

Mitsuhiko clearly knew something. "Well, I heard from one of Kuraki's sidekicks.Apparently, Miyuki-senpai, the sixth-grader, seems to really like Ishikawa. Took him to see Kobayashi-sensei and even patted his head. But... he's lower grade, she's upper grade, right?"

Conan rolled his eyes. What kind of cliché schoolyard drama was this? And in elementary school , no less?

Forget emotional maturity, how could they be jumping to conclusions and throwing punches over one look?

"They said what really pissed Kuraki off," Ayumi said, picking up the thread with Conan's prompting glance, but it was Genta who finished the sentence: "Let me! I'll say! I will tell you everything. So apparently Kuraki himself tried talking to the new boy, even gave him his juice bottle, but Ishikawa politely turned him down—in front of the whole class. Even though he was super polite, Kuraki just lost it. Said Ishikawa wouldn't even accept his gesture, must think he's better than everyone. Said if the new boy wants to act all high and mighty, then he'd knock him down a peg."

"But it's totally normal to be shy in a new place! Didn't Ai-chan barely talk when she first transferred in too? That'snormal." Ayumi objected. "Kuraki went too far! Conan! We have to tell the teacher!"

"Let's see what's going on first," Conan said. Hearing only one side of the story wasn't enough for him to make a judgment.

When they reached the classroom door, however, they all froze.

— Splat. —

A stream of pure white milk poured down like silk, drenching the student sitting in the last row. Kuraki and his henchmen had seized their chance during the final class before lunch—when the homeroom teacher would be late—striking without witnesses. If the teacher questioned, they could always claim Ishikawa tripped and spilled it himself.

Milk trickled down his bangs, dripping steadily off the edges of his clothes, trailing down his thick black eyebrows and long lashes, separating into tiny droplets before hitting the floor. The boy simply sat there, unmoving. The textbook in his lap was completely soaked. Around him, a group of kids laughed and snickered, oblivious to how serious this had become.

Bastards!

Conan lunged forward, swatting Kuraki's hand away. Clatter! The half-full milk carton flew through the air, splashing the bystanders with a wave of liquid.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Conan roared. The milk-drenched boy seemed to react like a puppet suddenly cut from its strings—his spell broken.

Slowly, the boy lifted his head.

And Conan saw, for the first time, eyes of a piercing sapphire blue—like the ocean's surface shimmering under moonlight. Just those eyes alone conjured up a vision in Conan's mind:

an endless, tranquil sea. Deep, uncharted, and dangerous. It felt as though, if he let himself go, surrendered himself to those depths, he could reach anywhere in the world.

How far would he take him?

"Stop it! This is bullying!"

As soon as Conan shouted, Kuroba Kaito leapt up, kicking over his chair, covering his nose and mouth with one elbow like a child stifling a sob, and bolted from the classroom as swift as the wind. Kuraki's friends looked ready to chase after him—but the deadly glare from Conan just shot their way and froze them in their tracks.

Silence fell like a thunderclap.

"You'd better be real clear on what you've just done."

And with that, Conan took off after him.

"Hey.......Be careful."

Bang—Kuroba Kaito jumped down from the cabinet right in front of Edogawa Conan, clapping the dust off his hands. The fine powder in the air and the sweat clinging to his skin stung his eyes and nose, making him look truly, utterly miserable. His nose and the rims of his eyes were red.

Conan blinked in surprise. Whether it was the humid, stifling air or something else, the boy before him—with thick brows and wide eyes now glazed with mist—looked almost surreal.

A soft haze hung around his features. His rose-colored lips were slightly swollen. In that instant, Conan suddenly understood, at least in part, why Kuraki had decided to target the new kid.

That helpless, delicate and charming look, with those soulful blue eyes—if they were in high school, this would be a crime.

"You alright?"

Kuroba considered faking a sob to stay in "character". But the heat was suffocating, and those unsolvable math problems were like demons haunting his brain, equations flying chaotically in his mind. Not even a single tear would come. So instead, he covered his mouth, pretending to wipe his nose or rub his eyes

—when in reality, he was stifling a yawn, "Don't worry about me. This is my problem."

A classic line, delivered with all the puffed-up indignation of a little boy—precisely the kind of behavior that would distance him from KID and Kuroba Kaito. The further he drifted from that persona, the safer he'd be in front of Meitantei. He had to build a character that was bland to the point of invisibility—timid, cautious, socially awkward, and... a little stupid, a little clumsy.

"It's fine if you don't get what I just said," Conan replied. "I'll go tell Kobayashi-sensei."

As Conan turned to leave, his elbow was suddenly seized.

"Don't. I said don't worry about me. If they're into this kind of thing, let them do it. I don't want the teacher to know."

Conan frowned, turning back to face Kuroba Kaito.

"If you keep letting them do whatever they want, what happens when they go even further? What if they hurt you worse—or move on to someone else?"

Kuroba Kaito hadn't cared much about these things. Not really.

"Fine. But if they try something again, I will go to Kobayashi-sensei. You won't be able to stop me."

Conan understood that the new kid didn't want to escalate things. He wouldn't press the issue. But he also knew bullies like Kuraki didn't just stop unless a teacher stepped in—or the victim stood up for themselves.

The problem was, the boy in front of Conan didn't look capable of fighting back. He looked like he might float away with the breeze—delicate, pretty, almost ethereal. Conan just couldn't picture him standing his ground.

"Oh, right—I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Edogawa Conan. If you run into trouble, come find me."

Step one : complete.

This was the perfect setup for meeting Edogawa Conan. Everything was falling into place.

Kuroba Kaito needed to stay close to Meitantei—to gather intel, and most importantly, keep his cover intact. As the saying goes, the most dangerous place is the safest place. He had to construct an identity and personality so dull, so ordinary, that it would never raise suspicion. He had to bide his time.

Even though Conan had offered a hand, Kuroba knew that look in Conan's eyes—it wasn't wariness or suspicion. It was simple kindness. A natural reflex of empathy.

Which meant—Edogawa hadn't really taken him seriously at all. He still thought Kuroba was just some delicate, cowardly kid with a nice face.

"Ishikawa Kaito."

He was just a bland, forgettable classmate, nothing special.

Exactly as planned.