Pew!

Pew! Pew!

Hakuba stared straight ahead, trying his hardest to ignore the wads of paper being spit at his head by a certain annoying classmate. It really wouldn't have been so bad if they were just wad of paper. But no, Kuroba Kaito enjoyed making Hakuba's life miserable.

And so because of that, every time Kuroba spit the paper at him, his hair changed a different color. He was embarrassed and angry, despite the fact that pretty much everyone in the room barely paid attention to Kuroba's antics. They were used to it, thus allowing them to continue on in the lesson.

The teacher was especially good at ignoring it. She continued on with her lecture about the laws of physics (or something along those lines) and pointedly ignored the side of the classroom where her pupil was being annoying. It was the best thing for her, anyway – her psychiatrist had deduced long ago that her constant headaches were because of a certain someone – so she decided that not giving the boy attention was the best way to go. He just acted up more when she confronted him about his behavior.

All in all, the only person that visibly showed that they were aware of something going on was Kuroba. He snickered occasionally, but mostly just laughed. Once – though nobody can prove this – he giggled like a little girl.

Finally, the end of the day came for Hakuba. Ah, the beautiful sound of the ringing bell. Time to go home and prepare... for... the Kid heist... oh no WHY?

It had donned on the detective, as he exited the school building, that he would be facing off against Kaitou Kid, internationally wanted thief. He had high suspicions of it being his annoying classmate, but no proof of it as of yet. Any if he begins to spit wads of paper at me, it can only be counted as coincidence. Tonight's going to be horrible.

~ Later ~

Hakuba stood with his back facing the wall, which was only a few feet away. He was certain that Kid would never be able to hide there – he would sense him, he was sure – but, as always, the thief proved him wrong. Right as the clocks all around Tokyo hit the announced time, the detective felt something hit his neck. Then another thing, then another. Five more. He spun around with an agitated look engraved into every fiber of his face.

"Kuroba, just stop already!"

The thief blinked. "Kuroba? Who's he?"

"Stop playing dumb!"

"Wait – Kuroba Kaito? Oh, isn't he one of my biggest fans?"

"No, he's you!"

"Why would you ever think that?"

"It's so obvious! And look -" Hakuba reached out and ripped the monocle off the Kid's face, "I have all the proof I need... right... here..." he slowed his sentence to a halt, because there, looking at him, was himself.

They blinked in unison. The detective then mentally shook himself and reached out to pull the mask off the thief's face.

It didn't come off.

"What? How is this even possible! I'm me! You're not me! You're supposed to be Kuroba, not me!"

The Kid took his hat off and bowed gracefully, saying, "When the possible solutions are wrong, the answer is the impossible."

Then, with a puff of pink smoke, the thief disappeared.

Elsewhere, a certain high-school magician was standing in his bathroom, facing the mirror, and untying the ribbons that held the Hakuba mask in place. He said aloud,

"What a shame. They never take into account that I might actually tie the mask in place one day, do they?"