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[magallanica]

a dead man's hand

(Kuroba Toichi may have passed on, but his memory and his legacy live on in Kaito. Who else would remember his soulmate? Kaito cannot help but wonder.)

post black org, soulmate-identifying marks au

a/n: for @spacebubblehomebase for the kaishin secret santa 2021 hosted by @dcmkkaishinevents! i hope you like it :) i had a lot of fun with your prompt 

—

Kaito is nine years old when he learns about soulmates. He is nine years old and only just beginning to understand that his father is no longer coming home when he sees his mother clutch her wrist and sob. 

Soulmate markings, he learns, are a way of connecting you to someone the universe deems your soulmate. The markings, usually related to your soulmate’s career or identity, came in when you were fifteen, and served no purpose other than to let you know that there is someone out there for you. When a pair of soulmates meet for the first time, the marks would glow brightly.

The slight catch though — was that if your soulmate passed on, your mark would disappear, leaving nothing behind besides a memory of what could have been.

His mother points to her mark, the outline of the poker card on her wrist already beginning to fade. 

“It may be gone,” she says (he may be gone), “but we’ll always remember him, won’t we?” 

Kaito is ten when her mark fades completely, and he is fifteen when he gets his own soulmate mark, a small pill on the back of his forearm. 

(“It could be a lot worse, trust me,” his mother laughs brightly, and he pretends he doesn’t see the way she swipes her thumb over a mark that should have been there.) 

—

Kaito does not think too much about his soulmate mark. Until one day, he does, because he’s only ever seen a mark lose its pigmentation like that once before. It hits him harder now, he realises, because he’s old enough to know what exactly it means. 

His soulmate had died, taking with them the pill-shaped mark on his arm that had been his companion for years. Soon, he knows, it will fade away completely, and all that will remain of his soulmate’s existence would be their memory. His mother’s bare wrist is proof of that.

Some say it is a mercy, so people wouldn’t wait forever for a dead soulmate. Others call it a curse, claiming that they would have rather lived without the knowledge that their fated half had passed on. Kaito personally thinks that it is a mix of both. He tells his mother that much during their biweekly video call, showing her the faded outline of the pill on his arm. 

He’s made his peace with it. Because, he figures, it’s kind of hard to miss someone you haven’t known. That you’ll never know. Anyway, Kaito reassures her, plenty of people whose marks have faded away have been able to find love, so she shouldn’t be worried about his future love life, or potential lack of one. 

(He does mourn them though, because they were probably around his age. Far too young to have left the world.) 

Later, he thinks as he dons the mantle of Kaitou KID, perhaps his lack of a soulmate is a good thing after all. He has no idea how he would explain to them that yes, he is an internationally wanted criminal looking for an immortality-granting gem. It’s exactly what it looks like. 

Kaito is eighteen when he sees a soulmate mark fade a second time. 

(Kuroba Toichi may have passed on, but his memory and his legacy live on in Kaito. Who else would remember his soulmate? He cannot help but wonder.)

—

It’s not like Shinichi isn’t aware of his soulmate marking, or the effect him turning into Conan would have on his soulmate’s mark. 

Okay, so it might have slipped his mind for a long time because of the whole turning into a kid and taking down a huge criminal organisation thing, but he hasn’t forgotten about the clover that should have been on his shoulder, he swears. 

(In his defence, he had more urgent matters to worry about. Like the possible ramifications of bringing down an entire criminal organisation in the body of a child. And of course, the apotoxin antidote that Haibara had managed to reverse engineer.)

Orchestrating Conan’s departure had taken far less effort than he had thought it would. With the cooperation of the FBI, it was easy enough to claim that despite the fall of the Black Organisation, Conan would have to go under witness protection just in case any remaining members decided to seek retribution for his role in their downfall. 

The Detective Boys took it the hardest, he knows. He had smiled at them, reassured them that he would be okay under witness protection, and that he’d write to them, but it does nothing to stop their teary gazes. 

Edogawa Conan would not be returning. He knows this all too well. 

He would tell them, he decides, when they were older — when they understood more of what had been at stake when Shinichi woke up in a body many years younger than he had been. He hopes that they’d understand his choices, or at least forgive him for them. 

The one person he hadn’t managed to track down was Kaitou KID, because, well, being untrackable is part of the whole internationally wanted jewel thief package. Shinichi won’t deny that part of him hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to the KID heists — because it would mean acknowledging that their rivalry had come to an end.

But Shinichi misses his old life, misses being himself, misses the freedom that comes with having an eighteen year old body. So, when he’s done saying his farewells to the people who only knew him as Conan, he heads to the Professor’s lab and knocks back the antidote Haibara hands to him. 

It is only during his next checkup with Haibara that he realises the potential consequences the return of his soulmark brought. 

Now, how to convince his soulmate that he has not, in fact, come back from the dead…

—

His mark is back. 

Kaito checks his arm once, then twice, and then a third time, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as the realisation hits him. Well, to be more accurate, it slams into him like a tonne of bricks, leaving him winded and gaping at his arm. It does not change what he sees — the outline of the pill is exactly as he remembered it — the mark dark against his skin as he traces it gingerly. 

Kaito had gone through many reports and articles back when his mark had begun to fade away, on the slim chance that he could at the very least, preserve what was left of it. Never had any of them mentioned a faded mark returning to a partner. 

Which could only mean one thing — somehow, three years after kicking the bucket, his soulmate had managed to come back from the dead. 

He lies back down. What the hell, he thinks, it’s far too early in the morning to deal with this. 

Maybe, he muses, it was time to pay a certain detective a visit. 

—

He can’t find the detective. 

Kaito waits outside his elementary school for an entire week and does not see any sign of Edogawa Conan. At all. In fact, he stops showing up to all his regular haunts, including the Mouri detective agency. Kaito would know — he had spent an entire night setting up bugs and wiretaps all around the building. 

No one seemed to be actively searching for him either — gone on a trip, perhaps? But all his usual travelling partners were still around Beika. Heck, Kaito even managed to get confirmation that Hattori was still in Osaka. 

It is not until the second week of wiretapping that his investigations finally yield a piece of interesting information. 

A (no longer) dead soulmate, a detective that could no longer be found, and an ‘antidote’ for a poison that had supposedly been plaguing a man whose face Kaito had worn countless times. A soulmark in the shape of a pill, he realises with a start. 

He is no detective, but there were too many coincidences, too many pieces falling into place in a way that most people would not even stop to consider. Kaito, however, is not most people. His father had been murdered over an immortality-granting jewel, after all, so a poison that could turn someone into a kid — and consequently reversing their soulmark and the soulmark of their soulmate, was not too far of a reach.

All he needs to do now, he thinks, is to confirm his theory. 

This, he decides, calls for drastic measures. 

(And hey, he had been getting a little stir-crazy cooped up at home.) 

—

If the setup of this heist seemed a little rushed, no one but Kaito and Jii-chan would know. Kaito was a man on a mission, so while it was regrettable that he had to forgo the crateloads of silly putty he had ordered months ago in favour of more practical traps, it would be worth it in the end.

He would get his answers. 

Kaito has disguised himself as Kudou Shinichi far too many times, taking full advantage of the similarities of their faces. Logically speaking, he should know what he looks like. It still throws him for a loop when the detective appears on the rooftop, led away from the rest of the police force thanks to the combined efforts of Jii-chan and a lot of clear sticky tape. 

(He’s even making the same face Tantei-kun would make when Kaito does something over the top during a heist.)

“KID—” 

“You know,” he states conversationally, “For a thief, I’ve been doing an awful lot of investigating these past few weeks, and I have what you detectives would call a ‘theory’. Would you like to hear it, Meitantei?” 

And Kaito smiles in triumph as the mark on his arm begins to glow. 

(Kaito is eighteen when he meets his not-quite-dead soulmate for the first time, but he’s twenty when his mark informs him of this fact.) 

—

[magallanica]

ffxivwrite 2020 masterpost

day 1: crux day 2: sway  day 3: muster  day 4: clinch  day 5: matter of fact  day 6: free day  day 7: nonagenarian  day 8: clamor  day 9: lush  day 10: avail day 11: ultracrepidarian day 12: tooth and nail  day 13: free day day 14: part  day 15: ache  day 16: lucubration day 17: fade  day 18: panglossian  day 19: where the heart is day 20: free day  day 21: foibles  day 22: argy-bargy  day 23: shuffle  day 24: beam  day 25: wish  day 26: when pigs fly  day 27: free day  day 28: irenic day 29: parental  day 30: splinter

thank you @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organising this event! i had a lot of fun with the prompts 

[magallanica]

day 30: splinter

written for ffxivwrite2020

post 5.0. the wol tries to remember. 

word count: 113

it comes back to you in bits and pieces, in dreams that you know are memories, in moments of deja vu that should not make any logical sense. your soul mourns — for the people (your people) whose names you can no longer speak. 

this is what you do remember: zodiark and hydaelyn. one pulling up, the other pulling down. one pulling left, the other right.

and then— you shatter.

it is an awful feeling. under the combined strength of the two primals, your soul splinters, memories scattering, pieces of your broken heart drifting further and further away. 

(you want, more than anything, to remember them, to remember him — but you can’t.)

[magallanica]

day 29: parental

written for ffxivwrite2020

tiamat was a great foil to nidhogg and in this essay i.

word count: 148

in azys lla, a wyrm roars. 

(perhaps nidhogg and here were alike, in the sense that they could not loosen their grip on the past. one blinded by rage and vengeance, the other blinded by sorrow and regret too focused on what could have been to see the future that lay beyond. not anymore, though.) 

the metal bands crumble easily beneath the force of her wings. not even allagan technology was immune to the sands of time, and the bindings holding her in place have long since lost their effectiveness. after all, the only chains shackling her were those of her own making.

i thought that spending an eternity imprisoned would help me atone for my mistakes. but you, child of hydaelyn — you who have lost just as much as i have, have shown me otherwise. 

with a powerful burst of wind, tiamat takes to the skies.

[magallanica]

day 28: irenic

written for ffxivwrite2020

of peace and its price. drk50 references.

word count: 116

they speak of alliances, of treaties, of peace — but you, of all people know that like everything else in this cruel world, peace too, has a price. 

that price just so happens to be you. their warrior of light — their weapon of light. the two titles are one and the same. how many have died to you, and how many more have died for you? their deaths are on your hands, so you owe it to them, at least, to serve, save, slay. 

you are no saint, but eorzea does not need one, so as long as you are able to fight, to cut down primal after primal, imperial after imperial, you are enough. 

[magallanica]

day 27: free day

written for ffxivwrite2020

5.3 spoilers. i have many feelings. 

word count: 86

you are breaking out into a run before you’re even out of the rising stones. you do not even bother calling for a mount as you sprint through revenant’s toll, weaving between porters and adventurers. 

there are two crystals you clutch in your hands — messages, beacons of hope in their own way. one from the past, one from the future. 

(my friend, my inspiration, he had once called you, but what he doesn’t realise is that he too, is yours.)

wait for me, g’raha tia

[magallanica]

day 26: when pigs fly

written for ffxivwrite2020

titania!wol. 

word count: 143

the porxies are out flying when you look out of the castle’s windows. 

there are so many things you want to know. how are the scions? the exarch? is the first recovering? 

feo ul visits often. they bring snacks and news, and sometimes extra company in the form of ryne or urianger. 

the fae are your people now. they are yours as you are theirs, and the thought fills you with warmth, a sense of belonging and right unlike anything you have ever felt before. they are yours to protect, and protect them you shall — until your dying breath, until the crown and scepter are ripped from your cold, dead hands.

this is a stopgap, you know. it will end soon or later — one way or another — but right now, for the first time in years, you are at peace.

[magallanica]

day 25: wish

written for ffxivwrite2020

5.3 spoilers. 

word count: 122

the orange crystal lies in your hand, even heavier than it had been when hythlodaeus had given it to you, his words ringing clear in your mind. 

“in time of greatest need, should you wish upon it with all your heart, it will surely answer your call.”

so you wish — not for a way to defeat elidibus, but for a way to make him understand (that he has no fight left to fight, but still has a life left to live), to free him from the shackles of his own making.

the crystal burns white-hot in your palm, memories that are not quite yours dancing across your vision as your head fills with a chorus of polyphonic voices. 

welcome home, azem. 

[magallanica]

day 24: beam

written for ffxivwrite2020

a smile better suits a hero. you’re not one, though. 5.0 endgame spoilers, implied bad end. 

word count: 114

"go, g'raha tia. please."

perhaps it's the urgency in your voice, or the use of his true name, you aren't sure which, but he finally nods. it's equal parts resigned and heartbroken. 

you yearn to reach out and wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. you cannot, so you whisper your thanks as he turns away, and pretend not to notice the tremble in his shoulders. the fallen bodies of your friends are warped away to safety, and you take comfort in that.  a smile better suits a hero, haurchefant had said. you are no hero, but you smile anyway, even as your vision is flooded with blinding, all-consuming light.

[magallanica]

day 23: shuffle

written for ffxivwrite2020

i love me some good ol’ roleswap au. shadowbringers spoilers. 

word count: 149

ardbert is so like your past self that it is almost painful. bright-eyed, full of hope and conviction and everything that years of living a futile existence have stamped out of you. 

warden after warden falls to his axe, and all you can do is hover nearby and watch — as you have been cursed to do for years. 

he is a fool, you think, but if anyone can do it — save the first from oblivion’s embrace (save the people you and yours had failed time and time again) — it would be him. because like it or not, despite how much fate itself has trampled and spat on you, his fight has rekindled a flame of hope in you. 

so you watch on.

(and when it all comes to an end — one way or another — you do not hesitate to cast your lot with him.)

[magallanica]

day 22: argy-bargy

written for ffxivwrite2020

a brief respite. set between 5.0 and 5.1. 

word count: 123

life on the first gradually returns to normal. the warrior does not know this, of course — having quite literally been the catalyst for the war between the citizens of the first and vauthry, but the scions assure them that the land and its citizens are finally beginning to heal.

these days, they do not have to do much. slay the occasional sin eater, mediate issues between the various groups, and track down hunt marks for spoils. 

(the small squabbles and minor disputes are like a breath of fresh air. no more worrying about life-or-death disagreements, at least for the time being.)

with a muted sigh of relief, they flop back down onto their bed in the pendants.

perhaps they’ll sleep in today.

[magallanica]

day 21: foibles

written for ffxivwrite2020

i have way too many feelings about drk80. the vague pov is intentional. 

word count: 107

serve, slay, save. 

they will tell you who they see — who they want you (need you) to be, but you and you alone know who you truly are. another flawed human being, another sinner, another tortured soul. your hands have long since been stained red — no matter what righteous cause you fight for, blood is still blood. 

(they are not perfect. neither are you, but you — the both of you — are enough, and that’s all that matters in the end.)

...but even if this is our end, it won’t change what we had. i love you more than you’ll ever know. be well.

[magallanica]

day 20: free day

written for ffxivwrite2020

prompt: lost (taken from ffxivwrite2019’s prompt list) 

word count: 104

alphinaud is planning something. you’ve spent a fair amount of time around the boy, and his tells are obvious enough. 

“i want to save him,” he tells you, “no matter what they say… i— i want to try.” 

something settles in your chest at that admission, warmth spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes even amidst the howling wind of coerthas. 

“that makes two of us, then.”

he falls silent as you unsheathe your weapons — shiva’s sword and the fortemps shield. ysayle and haurchefant. 

you’ve already lost enough people. you refuse to lose another.

“for those we can yet save, right?”

[magallanica]

day 19: where the heart is

written for ffxivwrite2020

post 5.0. a homecoming, of sorts. 

word count: 124

amaurot was — and still is — your home. you feel it in your very soul — in the way the shades address you as if they were talking to an old friend, in the way every street, every building strikes a chord of melancholy in you.

remember us, hades had said, remember that we once lived, but amaurot is fading fast, no longer sustained by his aether. already, the spires in the distance are beginning to unravel — memories that are just barely out of your reach slipping through your fingers like grains of fine sand. the shades too, seem to be phasing in and out of existence, no longer answering when you call out to them. 

you are running out of time.

[magallanica]

day 18: panglossian

written for ffxivwrite2020

drk50. for those you have lost (and for those you can yet save). 

word count: 166

in a way, fray (they are more you than fray, if what they are saying is to be believed) is right. 

haurchefant, ysayle — none of them deserved to die, and yet, despite your best efforts, they did. one sacrificed himself to save you, the other died for a world she would never see. 

you wanted to believe — that as long as you tried hard enough, you could save them. that being strong would be enough. that your bloodstained blade would become a shield. 

you know better now. so, when fray offers you a way out, you almost take it. almost. 

(it would be so, so easy — to take their hand and stop being the warrior of light — but you had never been fond of taking the easy way out. right now, there are people you can still save — right in front of you. it is not too late for them. it is not too late for you.) 

you make your choice.

[magallanica]

day 17: fade

written for ffxivwrite2020

post drk80. consensual possession aka (wol voice) fray take the wheel. 

word count: 122

that little trick you’ve learnt doesn’t count, you know. 

you remember writing your final message, etching your heart onto the pages of their journal with your neatest handwriting, and yet—

and yet, despite everything, here you are. fray, but not quite fray, wearing a body that is yours as much as it is theirs. 

the warrior’s presence is a comforting one. a thread of aether brushes against you, as if trying to offer you some form of encouragement. 

go on, they seem to say. you can’t quite tell — they haven’t had nearly as much experience in manipulating aether in a headspace as you do. 

“fine,” you sigh, more to yourself than them, and step into the forgotten knight. 

“hey, sid. rielle.”

[magallanica]

day 16: lucubration

written for ffxivwrite2020

the wol is jared, nineteen. 

word count: 144

“walking-one would ask a favor of these ones?” tonaxia trills, flying circles around you in what you presume to be excitement. 

it’s not so much a favor as it is a trade, you think. you slay the beasts that harass them, they teach you how to read common eorzean. it’s a pretty fair exchange. 

you nod your head. it is embarrassing to admit, but you would like to at least understand some of the script in your tome — or at least read the documents alphinaud had you sign whenever he could wrangle you into doing paperwork with him and tataru. 

to your relief, they agree easily enough, and you soon find yourself sitting down for weekly reading lessons in the east shroud.

(you have to admit — their tactic of pelting you with stinkbombs whenever you got an answer wrong is scarily effective.)