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Caederophobia

Chapter 5: III Part I

Notes:

Warning: explicit descriptions of death and fear

This chapter is dedicated to @necroeffect, who has not only read my works but commented on every chapter. It really brightens my day, thank you!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter III Part I

 

“Is a reason needed? Reasons for killing, there are many. But no reason is needed for saving someone.” 

Something in her heart shattered, then she felt like perhaps the thin line which she just barely managed to hold together snapped, turquoise eyes widening, as she let it- lies, most likely- wash over her. No, he didn’t know who he was saving, the boy now staring at her with an angel-like girl grasping his clothes, unsure of what to do in the face of a clear serial killer as he boldly talked about the duality of morality.

Huh. He never really was like this before. Having such an audacitated sense of justice, holding human righteousness in his hand. Or was he? It did bother her that she didn’t know, not even after all of that- but the blue-eyed boy who had refused to kill even the enemy could easily be combined with this storing-willed highschool detective. And that’s her true self speaking, even after so long.

No, he wouldn’t recognize her. It didn’t matter if she was wearing this despicable disguise or not, this pitiful mask which people had used for face as a continuous murderer. His memory is all gone like smoke of wildfire in that one “accident”, as that woman called it, and now he lives such a normal life. Or as normal as a kid with brains like him could have; being a highschool detective and all.

Strangely suiting.

She’ll never forget the outstretched hands, grabbing onto her own sleeve and saving her of the fall which would have, undoubtedly, robbed her of her existing life and soul. The warmth she felt, watching violet purple and golden-blue orbs desperately pulling hands that weren’t hers up from death, the sleazy mistake she made by relying too much on the metal hand-railings. Like the sun itself had touched her skin it was all far too much; like heated metal against her icy skin, which has been deprived of warmth all this time.

 

Sharon woke up with a start.

Ah. So it was all a dream, she relapses, sinking back into the cold comfort of her pillow. Even the room temperature was freezing, despite this being a five-star hotel room, or perhaps she has shed away from the warmth for so long that she no longer recognizes what it feels like. 

Maybe he really was better off in Yukiko’s hands. That boy would have never said something so self-righteous if he stuck with Sharon and that organization, and even if he had those thoughts buried in his mind he never would have had the boldness to outright say it like that to her face. Yukiko promised; she delivered, and maybe it was the best possible result to have happened. Even if the six years that passed since she last saw him face to face seemed like nothing but a gust of wind, coming and going in the blink of an eye.

Sharon laughed sadly to herself. What a sad thought to have, and now of all time. Time really goes by fast, even if it doesn’t show on her face, she could definitely feel it passing by. Though Sharon looks just as young as she did thirty years ago or more, she doesn’t feel that way anymore. The gentle creaking of the bones was one reminder, and next to it the rush of blood which approached each limb as soon as she moved brought a sense of reality back.

The side effect of forever youth on her face is swiftly approaching, isn’t it? The idea of immortality and perfection on her face was tempting to the Sharon of the past. Even if she never chose this path, to think it was one that she even considered it for a moment was now something that thoroughly disgusted her.

Maybe this was the horror that some felt, when they finally realized that she, Sharon Vineyard, was the exact same person as her “daughter” Chris Vineyard. Imagine knowing that the famous actor and her mother were actually one in the same. That would scare anyone, and even herself to know that “she”, herself, doesn’t actually exist- just another woman in passing.

Oh. The little voice in her head interrupted the rather sudden thoughts she gave to her identity. It's coming, she sang to herself, feeling that rising bile in her throat and she rushed to the washroom, seeing her own pale self in the now shattered mirror, and the crimson liquid that quickly and swiftly bled onto her utterly washed-out hands through her mouth.

The sickly figure that stared back at Sharon through her reflection was one of a weak woman, able to do next to nothing, gently cradling her own messy hair as she put on the most confident smile she could muster. One that looked almost genuine enough to be one worthy of “Vermouth”’s. A few seconds passed in silence, and the coldness returned color to her now turquoise eyes as she stared at herself. At Vermouth, at anything but who she was.

She sat back on the wall of the bathing tub, letting the sanguine drip down from the side of her mouth to the bottom of her chin, and laughed bitterly to no one in particular.

 

=

 

“What do you mean, we can’t go to Cafe Poirot!?”

Genta asked with exclamation, slamming his tanned hands down onto the table where four of the five Detective Boys members were currently seated. Ayumi was the only one to be missing in action, it was the weekend, and currently it was the Detective Boys’ duty to make a perfect birthday party action plan for Yoshida Ayumi, the first female member of their little group.

Conan, sitting in the center of the table, gave an exasperated sigh. “Some customer had actually already rented out the entire place that day… Azusa-san wasn’t too happy, but apparently the boss had allowed it, so she couldn’t really say.” He crossed his arms, looking downwards at the table impatiently. “So we’re going to have to resort to a Plan B.”

“And that ‘Plan B’ is?” The girl sitting to the left of Conan, with clipped, auburn and ginger hair and bored sea-green eyes, looking irritated at sitting on such an uncomfortable seat. Quietly, she shuffled around in a way that made it close to nobody to notice, and it seemed only the one keen on observation in the room registered it. She slyly gave the boy a sideways glance, pushing back against the back of her chair. 

With a small, sheepish smile, the blue-eyed boy in question put a hand to his chin. “Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss…” Conan laughed nervously, leaning into his own hands.

“But Cafe Poirot is the perfect place to celebrate Ayumi’s birthday!” Genta sinked into his own seat, complaining childishly. Mitsuhiko, who had been quiet throughout the whole exchange, sent the tallest and largest member of the Detective Boys an uncomfortable look. “But it's not like we can change that…”

Suddenly, Genta bolted upwards. “How about if we go visit them again? Maybe we can work out something, that way! Conan, you asked like five days ago, right? Something could have changed in these few days!” He exclaimed, excited by his idea, and Mitsuhiko reluctantly nodded with Haibara following closely. Conan wasn’t so easily convinced, but didn’t say anything as Genta grabbed his hand and dragged him outside.

The “secret base” they were using was really a small, secluded building that surely couldn’t be used more than a few times, and honestly Conan didn’t know for a second if it was legal. But with small fingers entwining his own and both Genta and Mitsuhiko looking so excited about it, anticipating his delighted reaction, Conan didn’t nearly have the heart to act like anything but pleased. (Haibara, on the other hand, gave both the other male members of the Detective Boys a loud lecture after staring at Conan sternly, as if warning him to never pull something like this again, softhearted or not.)

They ran down the streets, carefully avoiding people until they were out in the open, and then running down the street- Genta still putting harshly on Conan’s hand, and Mitsuhiko motioning for a stoic Haibara to follow- as water splattered from where they stepped, courtesy of the rain which must have fallen just before they came out, by how most of the surrounding people still had umbrellas.

A gust of light breeze soared past his ear, and the large building with the painted words “Mouri Detective Agency” was familiar as he smiled despite himself. Genta’s steps finally slowed as they reached the front of the cafe which caused all of this little adventure to begin. 

Genta, who had somewhat of a mild manners, was enough to wait for Mitsuhiko and Haibara to catch up. When they barely reached the doorstep, Genta pushed open the door and the bell clanged out.

“Welcome to Cafe Poirot! How may I help you?” Conan frowned. That wasn’t the usual shoptess Azusa’s voice. In fact, it was a tone that he feels is somewhat familiar but couldn’t pinpoint, and surely hasn’t ever met before. A man’s voice, and judging by the vocal scale, was in his mid twenties or just bordering on thirty, and sweet like a warm day in summer. Conan blinked. That wasn’t right.

Genta seemed to realize this too and his nose scrunched up in confusion. “Who are you?” He asked, quite bluntly speaking, even to the bold Conan himself, and the man standing in the hallway carrying three plates in one hand and a cup in the other looked down at the four kids in surprise.

He was tall, wearing a dark apron that wrapped around his figure tightly and revealed that he was thin with muscles. The stranger’s skin was tan, not quite as much as Hattori’s, by Conan’s opinion, but was handsome, with pale brown hair which bordered on blonde and silver-blue eyes that lingered a bit too long on Conan among the rest of them. Immediately, he smiled as if nothing was wrong, but the convulsed grip which small, pale hands suddenly grasped on his clothes told Conan otherwise.

Haibara Ai, no. Miyano Shiho was scared enough to hide behind a not-completely trustworthy highschool-detective-turned-elementary-boy. And Conan knew, by how she told him, that she could sense that something was wrong when it happened and the paused and persisting stare that was concealed nicely by this stranger. “Hello, kids! I’m Amuro Tooru, and I happen to be a new worker here.”

“Hah?” Genta asked, not noticing how Haibara was glaring up more intensely by the second. Mitsuhiko, who had a better sense of observation than the others noticed easily and curiously looked, but Conan didn’t say a word of comfort, instead wrapped his own hands around Haibara’s. Perhaps the warmth brought her back to her senses because those sea-green eyes widened and the heartbeat inside the very chest that was pressed against Conan’s back calmed down, slowly pouncing at normal levels.

Though Conan tried to stay as calm as he could himself for Haibara’s sake, he could feel his own heart pounding and a drip of cold sweat falling down the side of his cheek.

“Ehh? It’s you, Genta-kun? Oh, and Conan-kun, too!” The familiar female voice of Azusa dropped down the hallway and Conan immediately relaxed the tense muscles that he didn’t even know were clenching under the crumpling pressure that nobody else but he and Haibara and perhaps the stranger could feel. “Didn’t you just come a few days ago?” She asked Conan, tipping her head childishly for her age, and the sapphire-eyes boy nodded slowly.

“Yeah, but Genta wanted to ask again…” He answered with the most voice he could muster. “Sorry if we’re intruding on your work day.” Honestly, he didn’t usually apologize for such minor details but idle chatter was what was on his mind. The small hand clutching his clothes were relaxing motionlessly, too, which was an extremely good sign.

The other Detective Boys member in question saved the atmosphere that was invisible to some because he jumped up, exclaiming with closed fists, “You guys are really reserved fully on Ayumi’s birthday?” He asked with pleading eyes, looking up at Azusa. It was clear she was uncomfortable with the situation, looking down with a twitching smile, and it was probably the first time Genta looked so childish.

Azusa patted Genta’s head. “Yeah… sorry about that. Nothing I can do now.”

“Well, perhaps I can do something about that?”

A third voice rang out in the loosening tension and immediately the grip on Conan’s clothes tightened, as the new worker “Amuro” walked closer. He gave a relaxing smile, contradictory to the straining glare that Conan’s sapphire eyes immediately gave him as he approached and surely the stranger could feel Haibara staring daggers at his face. “I gather that you kids wanted to celebrate this ‘Ayumi’’s birthday here, at Poirot, but found that someone had already rented out the place for the day?”

Mitsuhiko nodded, realizing how neither Conan nor Haibara wanted to speak up. Genta gave them both a curiously aggravated glance. “Give me a second to put down these plates- there,” the tall man began, placing down the dirty objects as he crouched just a little, and the towel on his arm fell off as he hastily picked it up. “Ah, as I was saying. I’m actually quite the expert when it comes to making cakes. How about I make a special cake for this ‘Ayumi’ to apologize for Poirot not being available?”

Surprised, Genta’s eyes widened and something akin to joy immediately washed over his face. Clearly he had forgotten all about the entire cafe rented situation and could only focus on the cake as he cheered, and Mitsuhiko sighed, having a hand to his face and Haibara was suspiciously cautious. 

If this man, Amuro, wasn’t a good person- he sure as well hid it nicely. If not for Haibara and Conan would not have thought this new Poirot worker to be anyone but an innocent and delightful man who happened to be working at this establishment, but he knew better. The sinless smile that was painted on his face seemed so genuine that nobody could even suspect something close to him doing anything bad. Even Conan wouldn’t think that anything evil would happen with this man. Not like lies that would roll off his tongue smoothly, or being someone so involved with the darkness of the world that Haibara could sense it.

With delight, small, chubby and tanned hands gripped the side of Amuro’s apron. “That would be great!” Genta exclaimed, far before Conan could put a hand on his mouth and stop him from doing so. Conan didn’t want someone that made the little girl behind him cautious to be close to him- no, the lingering gaze that fell on him earlier might not have been meant for Conan. It might have been for Haibara, and if Amuro was a part of them… maybe he even saw the sure similarities between Miyano Shiho and Haibara Ai. Or worse, saw the similarity between Haibara Ai and Miyano Akemi.

The reminder of another person that Conan failed to save brought a wave, a sense of sickness and bile to his throat, and washing away all other thoughts.

“Well then! I’ll deliver it to you on this ‘Ayumi’’s birthday. Which day is it?” Amuro asked sweetly.

Genta answered, then gave a doubtful look to the new Poirot worker. “Hmm? Oh wait- But we don’t have a place to throw Ayumi’s birthday party because this place’s rented out!” Genta pouted sadly, contrary to the delegation from before, turning to Mitsuhiko who had his notebook out and was scribbling illegible notes, and Conan gave a sheepish smile to cover up the awkwardness and tenseness of the entire situation.

Seconds that turned into more than that passed swiftly, and finally, Mitsuhiko realized that the other member of the Detective Boys was looking at him and the expression was getting more annoyed by the moment. “Oh. Um. Yeah… maybe we can just pick the cake up from you?” The tall boy asked, nervously pleading, fumbling with his notebook as he put it back into his pocket.

“Ah, no. Actually, I have a suggestion! Not far away from here, just a block down to the left, there’s a party room for rent; I’ll bet you can spend your little party there.” With a passive smile, Amuro said cheerfully, and it only grew bigger as Genta’s eyes went as big as yen-coins and his face broke into a massive grin. “Okay! Thanks, Amuro-nii-chan! C’mon, Conan, what’re you waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Again the chubby hand took Conan’s own, this time with Haibara on his back, and Genta did not seem to realize this as he dragged Conan with the girl eyes wide and coming too, and Mitsuhiko rushing to come, too. As they stepped outside, Conan could swear that he could still feel the persisting look on his back but didn’t say a word as his foot nearly tripped by the merciless pace they were going at and he could even hear Mitsuhiko complaining.

Just a block down and to the left, the road was still slightly muddy and the uncomfortable splatter of the grimey water along his pants made the sapphire-eyes kid close his eyes for a heartbeat, and the light wind blowing past his ear turned it pink. It was a colder day than most for this season and admittedly Conan didn’t really dress perfectly for the weather. 

The building in question looked new, walls painted a creamy tan compared to the other ones and party balloons were posted at the front gate. There were two windows, very modernized, and the structure itself isn’t taller than three stories high. It must have been relatively new to the place because Conan couldn’t recall ever remembering this place before now; or perhaps he might have missed it- he as Shinichi never cared for such things, and neither did he as Conan. As put by his own head; anything beyond mysteries, detectives, and soccer really did fly over his head, most of the time.

But as soon as they arrived and Genta went to ask the receptionist lady about if they could rent out a room, Conan stopped caring about all that and pulled Haibara over. She still had heavy breaths, panting, turquoise pupils looking distilled and the scientist-turned-kid was shivering and shaking, holding herself with her own arms in a self-comforting hug. Immediately Conan put two hands on her shoulders and her head shot up, frightened eyes- so disparing from the usual apathetic orbs- meeting Conan’s own calm ones.

He wasn’t really calm. But he had to look the part, to fool Haibara and perhaps himself, to make sure that she didn’t hyperventilate and have a panic attack. People have told him, both as Conan and as Shinichi, that he truly sucked at lying and hiding things- but with a famous actress like Fujimine Yukiko as his mother, Conan did have some ability to act.

“Calm down,” he started, albeit a little heartless to say when he knew how Haibara was trembling. “Haibara. Haibara, tell me. Did you sense that from that man?”

As if finally brought back to her senses, the girl’s eyes finally were settling down and the heartbeat that Conan could feel from here was beginning to pounce just a bit slower than before. Now that they were out of the presence of that man, Haibara seemed to be staring off into oblivion and missing past Conan as the latter shook her shoulders. “Come on. Haibara, wake up. You’re fine. We’re fine. He’s not going to hurt you.”

Perhaps it was the way of calming down a trembling little kid, and even though Haibara looked the part they both knew the truth, and it somehow worked against the clang coldness of her skin. Her hands were freezing, fingers beginning to trail up Conan’s arm until she was holding them, and by how her eyes never left the single spot she was staring at anyone could deduce that she was moving without thinking.

“...I…” Finally, she spoke, and her voice was a little cracked next to her chapped lips. Haibara was finally beginning to return to her usual cool personality, contrary to what a man might expect of her just seconds before. “Edo...gawa-kun. He’s not a good person. I sensed it from him… the feeling you get… It's unmistakable. Like the feeling of bugs, crawling up your neck.”

“Is he with them ?” The most pressing matter at hand needed to be discussed, once Haibara has thoroughly settled down. Those still quivering eyes met Conan’s own sapphire ones and perhaps seeing such a color made her blink. “I don’t know. He feels similar… but not quite… there’s something terribly off-putting about him. He wasn’t… I- I don’t think he was looking at me or else I would have felt worse, I think.”

“Similar?” Conan questioned, retracting his hands to put one on his chin. “That’s unsettling... Haibara. Listen to me, right now. I’m not going to let them hurt you.” 

Despite how she appeared, Haibara had just the heart of an eighteen-year-old, and was just as fragile as every other living human being. She didn’t deserve this- being hounded by an organization looking for their traitor that took a suicide drug and ended up changing into a young kid, and having to group up with another one stuck in her own situation that wasn’t completely trustworthy. And she knew for a fact that they were coming after her life- nobody should be stuck in this kind of situation, and yet she was forced into it.

Another person, whose perfect life was ruined by that darned organization. Another person that Conan will try to protect, with all his own soul. Even if they didn’t know each other just a few weeks ago, that has changed. They were both in this situation and Conan would be darned if he let them take her life so easily. They, that organization, already took too much that wasn’t theirs.

“...Alright then. Edogawa-kun… fend yourself first, you dummy. You don’t know what will happen if they find out Kudou Shinichi is alive… by then they won’t be coming after just my life.” Now recomposed into her cool personality, Haibara said, no longer unsteady, and pinched the side of Conan’s cheek.

“Hey! Wait, are you guys exchanging a moment or something?” Genta asked, suddenly interrupting and putting an uneven hand over his mouth in surprise. Mitsuhiko edged over, eyes even wider, and he dramatically- though probably didn’t mean to- dropped his pen and notebook, face flushed with a red blush, and hastily picked it up, trying to hide the fact that he dropped them in the first place.

Instantly, Conan and Haibara both realized what they looked like and with a pale dust of sanguineness, Haibara let go of Conan’s cheek and the latter’s hands retracted. “Wait, no, it’s not what it looks like-!” Conan tried, putting arms up in self defense as Mitsuhiko gave him a deathly glare. Wow. He never expected a grade schooler to look so scary…

Haibara, on the other hand, looked sheepishly embarrassed at the idea and didn’t say anything to retort at first, instead poking Mitsuhiko on the chest. “Don’t think like that,” she scolded in the sternest voice she could muster, which sounded very apathetically normal and Conan couldn’t tell it was different from her usual voice. “It’s not like that. He’s just helping me calm down, Tsuburaya-kun, Kojima-kun.”

“Calm down? Is that why you were hiding behind Conan-kun when we met that Amuro-nii-chan?” The tall member asked, so childishly curious but the mention of the name made the atmosphere tense. “Anyways!” Genta interrupted, waving off Mitsuhiko. “They said we can rent out a room for Ayumi’s birthday, if we can get an adult to do it for us!”

“Really?” The freckled Detective Boys member asked, eyes wide, all other suspicions forgotten as he turned to face the other boy. “Okay! We can ask, like, the professor, right?”

Perhaps everything was swept under the wind too fast, but his small time as Conan has taught him that life isn’t perfect- nothing is- but it is far better to concentrate on the good, joyous parts of life, rather than the shadows that might follow. The cheerful solutions of the Detective Boys seemed so innocent compared to the worries that both Conan and Haibara had just seconds ago, and the irony and contrast was enough for Conan to burst into childish laughter, uncaring of how Genta and Mitsuhiko sent him a curious gaze, snickering past all previous concerns as he focused solely on the sunny moment.

 

==

 

The concealed room was dark, barely lit by youthful flames, and even though it was currently the middle of day the sun seemed to have wanted to go down early, or maybe it was a trick of the grey clouds which hovered around the sun like it was infesting it. The three of them were in this space, with the man leaning against the walls while the other two sat on the chairs and stood upright, respectively.

The foreign woman, who was the one sitting in the chair, had a phone in her hand as she stared at it passively, thumb scrolling through the screen with crossed legs. It was silent, barely a sound of a cricket jumping in the luminous background, and wind and light rain- or was it just leakage- rang out past the quiet.

“Oh,” the first one to speak out during the meeting was the woman in question, as she uncrossed her legs and saw a message in particular. The other two men looked up, in neither surprise, and awaited for more words, which the lady delivered. “That kid is asking me for information.”

With raised, grey eyebrows, another voice rang out. “Which kid?” The man standing asked, looking at the woman with a lack of suspicion, despite how dark his work could get. “The suspicious one.” She sighed. “I would love to trust him… but I don’t think I can.” Sly eyes ticked over to her figure.

“That’s fine. Give him the information. I’m curious of what he’ll do with it.”

Shocked, the woman looked up at the man leaning on the wall, who only had bored, sharp and cold eyes as he barely gave more than an apathetic look. For a mere moment, it was like the temperature had dropped ten degrees as she fumbled with her phone, debating if she should listen to the dark-haired man before finally sighing and sending the document required over the phone. 

The unsettling smile on the man’s face was something close to deathly as she put down her phone. “We have more pressing matters to discuss, though. Not just about that inquiring kid.” She started the main event of their little secret meeting in such a secluded spot, turquoise-blue eyes wandering to the ground. “We have to talk about Bourbon. I think… he’s on the move, again.”

With slightly annoyed eyes, the man standing crossed his arms. “Again? Does he not listen to that boss’ orders?” He asked, but to nobody in particular, as he stared off into the distance. “He’s a perceptive man, that Bourbon… he could be far more dangerous than what people think of him.”

“...But we need a thread to tie ourselves to.”

Those words rang out through the place just as the sound of a message from the woman’s phone left a ghastly glow, as she read the contents aloud and flinched backwards onto her chair, the other two men looking up at her with interested and piqued eyes.

 

===

 

The small hand, pale and thin, wrapped her fingers around Conan’s as they all met up at the professor’s house. The first to arrive had been, inevitably Haibara, then followed swiftly by Mitsuhiko and Conan then Genta, and lastly Ayumi, who was oblivious to all of the plans that the Detective Boys had carefully concocted over the course of the last week.

As soon as everyone arrived, all of the other people in the room- with the exception of Ayumi- pretended to have forgotten about the prepared date and were all jumping onto the car. They quickly drove to the party room, rented out by one silly professor called Agasa and Ayumi looked beyond confused at why they were here in the first place. Genta, holding the little girl’s hand, dragged her into the room with a beaming smile, while the others followed.

The hallway that they were led down had five doors; each looking exactly the same and Conan noticed how the man who was leading them down wrote something on his notepad before opening the last door on the right for them, and they all hurried in with large eyes as Conan examined the place. 

It was a nice room, rectangular in shape, with a big, red couch in the center and wooden-and-glass tables to the right of that with similarly done chairs, on the side where people walked in. The door was facing the sofa directly, and the floor was tiled in a checkered pattern using white and black marble. Balloons of all colors were set up along the walls, most of them still perfectly intact though some looked a little bit deflated, and tied to the ground using white ribbon. There was a single air conditioner that was long and blew cold air strong enough to reach even the back, and the device was pressed closely to the ceiling of the room. But what was most peculiar was the fact that the wall on the back of the room was a bright, orange color, clearly done recently by the fluorescent look of the paint.

It was by all means a nice room, and the bright and happy look that Ayumi had as she fluttered away her confusion by batting her eyelashes made all the effort that they had to go through for this worth it. Excitedly, she turned, staring at the four kids, who lined in according to their heights, with a beaming grin that even Haibara couldn’t frown on. She, the coolest personality in their group, just gave a small smile as she looked to the ground with delighted eyes that she didn’t want to show.

“Wait, is this-?” Ayumi asked, and both Genta and Mitsuhiko nodded. “No way! You guys didn’t forget my birthday, after all?” She was so excited that she jumped up and down, ruining the cute pink skirt fit for her image and matching her hairband. Seeing someone so happy about something made Conan’s heart bubble up, heat rising to the top, and feel warm, too.

“No, of course not! We would never! And don’t worry; the cake’ll come soon- that man, Amuro-nii-chan said he’ll bring it!” Genta exclaimed, and Ayumi gave him a surprised look, followed by a hug that was sweet for the eyes. They all settled on the couch with the exception of the professor, because Conan personally wasn’t sure how much room there would be for the other kids if Agasa sat down alongside them, and the sweet, childish jokes that spun around were cute.

But it wouldn’t last for long. That man who was bringing the cake, Amuro Tooru… Haibara had a bad feeling about him, so he was definitely not to be trusted. So hopefully, he wouldn’t stay, and would just drop the cake off and leave… and that cake might have to be inspected, though Conan doesn’t know why a man nearing his thirties would want to harm a bunch of kids and an inventive old man.

People are strange, and nobody ever knew about secondary motives.

A small, gruffy voice rang out. “Give me a minute! I’m going to go to the washroom,” the professor said, leaving the room and interrupting Conan’s thoughts as the merry man juggled out and his heavy footsteps went down the hall. Conan huffed. He couldn’t have gone to the washroom before they came.

For a few daunting minutes, the five kids in the room chatted peacefully, with Haibara, who was sitting next to both Conan and Ayumi looking at the orange wall with a disgusted look on her face, saying something about how the department has a terrible sense of how to not blind a person’s eyes. Frankly, Conan agreed dearly- but others like Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko seemed to love the bright colors as they cheered.

Then, there was a small knock on the door which was trailed quickly by the voice that Conan didn’t want to hear, and made Haibara tense up immediately. “Hello? Is this, ah, Yoshida Ayumi-chan’s party room? I brought the cake.” And contrary to Conan’s mood Genta jumped up to open the door, revealing none other than that man. “Oh, hello, kids. I take it…  you are Ayumi-chan?” He asked Ayumi.

“Ah, y-yes!” She put her hands up in a sort of saluting motion and her face was a little bit red, probably from the excitement, Conan figured. “Are you the Amuro-nii-chan?” She blinked innocently up at the man in question who nodded while smiling sinlessly.

He stepped into the room, probably noting the orange wall as he set the white box on the table and Conan could actually smell the cream from where he was. “Hmm? Don’t you have an adult supervisor?” Amuro asked, next putting down a small handkerchief on the desk, on top of the cardboard cake box.

“Ahh, Agasa-hakase went to the washroom.” Mitsuhiko offered, hands tapping his legs. Though he tried to seem calm it was clear that the tall boy was excited for cake, too. “He might have needed to go, umm, yeah… I heard he ate the cupcake that Haibara-san had thought she threw out a week ago…” Oh, that did make sense. Haibara did have a bitter face as she heard that that professor needed to go to the washroom, and Conan even recalled wondering why she looked so acrimonious.

But the adult in the room raised a brown-blonde eyebrow. “Is that so?” Curiously, Amuro asked, letting himself politely sit on a chair as he shuffled his gaze to the five on the couch. “A professor?” 

Conan, not wanting to reveal anymore information as Haibara tensed, nodded hastily.

Amuro just hummed, placing a hand on his leg as those grey-blue eyes wandered off, trailing onto the environment around. It would be no far stretch to say that this man was perceptively sharp, like Conan- and for some reason he reminded the boy slightly of Hattori. Perhaps it was the similar skin tones, but there was something alike between the two, even if their personalities were evidently different.

Hattori was bold, hot-blooded and straightforwardly passionate, while Amuro was polite, surfacely kind and always had a sense of cold distance with him. But the perceptive way that they both observed their surroundings seemed far too similar. No, it would be even more accurate to say that this Amuro resembled Kaito even more. Kaito, for what Conan knew of him, portrayed himself as affectionate and touchy-touchy and using emotions and empathy to his own advantage, but there was a strange way of mystery that clouded him which made Conan deeply suspicious, even if he is beginning to let down his guard just a bit more. If Kaito really was one of them and suspected him to be Kudou Shinichi , he probably would have done something by now. 

That organization seemed like the type to do things without questioning them first, because of how quickly they made him take that one drug which Haibara made… (and yet another perceptive person, Haibara Ai, who formerly was Miyano Shiho. There sure were a lot of people with him.) Perhaps Conan just had a knack of attracting people with insight and perceptibility or something, but he couldn’t really ever recall having so many sharp people around him when he was Shinichi. Outside the company of his father, Yuusaku, of course- that man was, in fact, the only person that Conan hasn’t felt like he could reach, yet.

Oh, he should probably tell his parents that he’s become Edogawa Conan. The blue-eyed boy looked down at his hands, unaware of all other gazes on him as he let go of a breath, but tightened it immediately as Amuro began talking again.

“Should we begin with celebrating Ayumi-chan’s birthday, even if that professor you mentioned isn’t here? He seems to be taking quite a long time…” He offered, putting a hand out. “I’ll bet that the food you probably ordered will come along soon, too. We can sing the song and you can blow out the candles.” He brought the cake out, and it was a delightful looking pastry with seven candles on top and Conan frowned. How did he know how old Ayumi was turning? But it wasn’t too hard to tell; they did look like six-seven, and obviously Ayumi would have to be with them. But there was still something suspicious about it.

Ayumi clapped her hands together, while Genta stood up and Haibara sank further into her seat on the couch. “Let’s sing happy birthday for Ayumi, then!” the largest member of the Detective Boys proposed, but it was more like a playful order as everyone nodded, with Genta taking up the lead and started to sing.

Should I just stay silent?

Conan’s been told of his awful singing voice- no, he doesn’t think it sounded too awful, but it was probably because he was tone deaf. If only he had the same sensitivity to voice pitch as he has to music notes with his violin! But not singing at all seemed a bit rude. Perhaps he should sing quieter.

Haibara sent him a funny look that seemed like she was trying to stop herself from blurting her laugh, knowing exactly how Conan has to be as he prepared for the smirk on her face to get bigger.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Ayumi-chan… happy birthday to you!” And she blew out the candles, all of them, with one fellow swoop of a breath and immediately Conan felt the snicker on Haibara as she looked at him, mocking. Kusou. He could feel his face heat up embarrassingly- Conan thought he sang just fine, thanks very much!

However, something felt wrong as the flush on his face disappeared immediately. He blinked. What was this overwhelming feeling?

A scream pierced out through the air and that was answered enough as instantly Conan jumped off the couch and crashed open the door, somewhat aware of Amuro following him immediately as Haibara and the other Detective Boys followed quickly behind. Darn it, he thought, cursing in his brain, and Conan bit his lips harshly. I didn’t think something would happen here!

It came from the room two down from the room Conan and friends were in, and the door was broken open, definitely not done with a key, and the horrified face of a woman with dark hair, holding a hand to her mouth, and another woman with blonde hair had fallen down to the floor. Slowly, Conan dragged his own sapphire orbs to follow the lady’s gaze upwards, at the hanging body of a third woman, choking on her own weight, a rope around her neck and feet leaving the ground. Her eyes had blood veins crawling through them.

A terrifying sight, even for Conan, but he didn’t have the pleasurable time to be able to let the death get to him as he rushed to the body, climbing on the nearby chair to reach the patch of skin joining her neck and jaw, immediately testing the pulse. Like he expected, there was none, nor was there the pound of a heartbeat and he could feel Amuro inspecting the corpse next to him. He bit his lip.

And, sparkling in the room, color clashing against the bright orange wall, was a key next to her dangling feet- and on it was labeled the words Only Customer Key 1.  

Which means… judging by the broken-down door… a locked room murder. 

“Call the police,” Conan commanded, not letting it get to him as something pulled in his chest, letting all childish facades drop. “Tell them… a woman is dead here. A hanging corpse.”

Horrified, the woman on the floor’s eyes bugged even bigger than before and the other one mishandled grabbed out her phone, and there was a quiet, ghastly whisper. “Is Arita-san really… dead?” And her face became terribly crestfallen as it seemed she lost the will to type in her phone. Sympathy was not something Conan could afford right now, not when someone was dead. The Detective Boys, standing at the door, looked equally frightened, except Haibara, who had already gotten over it, as she pulled out her own phone and dialed the police. “Excuse me. There’s a corpse of a woman; could you come over?” 

Ever the cold lady she talked as if death was nothing, and there surely was a hurry of voices on the other side. Conan was just barely aware of Amuro Tooru’s lingering gaze on him as Conan got down from the chair and waited for the police to arrive.

 

“The victim is Kimiko Arita-san, twenty six years old, here at this room-rental establishment to celebrate inheriting her father’s business. Her time of death was estimated to be around an hour ago. She came here with her best friend from college, Avaran Yamauchi-san, twenty seven years old, and her younger sister, Yuka Takaki-san, twenty three years old. She was strangled to death then hanged in a failed attempt to make this murder look like a suicide.” 

The inspector Megure called out from the scene of crime, reading off a paper. Takagi rushed through the gates, and Megure asked, “do all of the staff members and other guests have alibis?” Conan watched the scene with slitted blue eyes, awaiting a response.

Takagi opened his own notebook. “Well, almost… Uhm, there was one staff worker, Yoshihiro Isa-san, who supposedly left for the washroom- the customer washroom, not the staff one, for ten minutes. Nobody can confirm his alibi at the time.” Megure sighed, for having one more suspect, as the man in question walked through the door. He was tall with curled dark hair and very handsome, but nervously itching the back of his head as his eyes widened, seeing the dead woman’s corpse.

“W-wait, isn’t that Kimiko-kun!?” He exclaimed, and pairs of eyes in the room all fell on him. 

“Do you know her?” Megure asked, crossing his arms with an impatient look on his face. 

“She’s my fiance, Taka-chan’s sister…” 

Ears perked, Conan immediately whipped his head. So the relationship between the people involved with this incident were as followed; a best friend, a younger sister, and a younger sister’s fiance… who happened to also be a store worker. Which already makes him terribly suspicious.

Deciding to ask the question on his mind, Conan tugged on Takagi’s pants childishly for show and the man looked down at Conan with surprised eyes. “Takagi-keiji…” the blue-eyed boy asked, cutely tipping his head to one side. “I’m wondering… The key that was found next to the victim’s corpse… it said ‘ Only Customer Key 1’. Is there another key, then?” He was mildly aware of a look, but didn’t say anything.

Sheepishly, Takagi crouched down to talk to Conan face to face. “Ahh… the ‘1’ apparently refers to the room number. It's a fairly new store so there’s only five rooms right now and they are numbered from one to five… and there is one more key, a master key set for every room that the store workers can use… wait, Conan-kun!? And why are the rest of you here, too!? And wait, who’s that man?”

“Ahh? It's nice to meet you, keiji-san. I’m Amuro Tooru… I happened to be here to deliver some cake for this young lady, Ayumi-chan’s birthday.” Taking notice, the man said, putting a hand out to shake and Takagi took it. They continued to talk, some words exchanged.

Conan didn’t pay much attention to their chatter, though, and his sapphire eyes were solely on the environment. This room that the victim died in looked like an exact mirror copy of the one that the Detective Boys rented, and a difference was that clearly the air conditioning was on because the temperature was much cooler than the hallway or Conan’s room. The orange wall was still there and the table looked to have been just wiped by something. Another difference was that most of the balloons in the room were popped, strangely enough, and more or less naturally to the left side and next to the key which created the locked room murder was a few remains of balloons, too. 

 

The washroom which Conan examined was clean. It was the place that Yoshihiro Isa’s supposed alibi was, and honestly, Conan was a little surprised to find that the woman and man’s washroom were joined into one universal one. Perhaps it was modern but still not very common in Japan; which already proved some European influence onto the establishment.

Looking around, there wasn’t much to say about the washroom, and the only point of interest was the hairdryer, a tall and black one, and it was pretty standard except for the fact that it blew out both cold and warm air. Another European influenced object, but one that Conan had some experience with. (Ran used this kind of blow dryer sometimes with Sonoko, too.) 

There weren’t many clues to how the murderer committed this crime, and this was one of the only leads Conan had, which was far from enough. This culprit was sharp and made a trick that was hard to solve at first sight, even for him.

Conan walked down the hallway back into the crime scene, noting how it took roughly ten seconds to cross the hall. Immediately he spotted a face, sitting on a chair in the corner with other suspects around, isolated in different seating spots.

The dark-haired woman, whose name was apparently Yuka Takaki, and was the sister of the victim, walked over and Conan immediately jumped at the opportunity to interrogate her- though it probably just looked like a little kid with curious questions, playing detective. Which was good, because the more innocent it seemed the less likely the terribly suspicious Amuro Tooru would suspect Conan, and that would be especially good if he was in the organization.

“Yuka-nee-chan?” Conan asked as sweetly as he could, looking up. The woman immediately looked down, in surprise, fluttering her eyelashes, and gripping her bag. Conan’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his head gears tense and roll. The bag was wet at one point.  

“Yes, boya ?” she asked, crouching down slightly to talk to Conan. Her voice was smooth and friendly, as she tipped her head. “What is it? Oh, I know it must be terribly frightening to see a corpse… I can’t believe that someone… would have murdered Onee-san…” Large tears fell down her cheeks in an instant at the reminder of her sister’s death and she flinched as Conan gave her a childish hug of sympathy.

Perhaps it helped her relax, because she did, before Conan released her. “Actually, I did have a question… I noticed that your surname, Yuka, is different from Kimiko-san’s?” Haibara was giving him the funny side glance, Conan could feel it but ignored it.

“Oh… I take after my mother’s surname. Onee-san took after father’s.” She answered, sniffing, rubbing against the red puffiness of her eyes. If Conan was still Shinichi he might have tried to comfort her, but doing that as a six-year-old seemed a bit unnatural, so he just watched with empathetic eyes. 

But he still had one more question, and Conan wanted to solve this murder. He had to. The rush of adrenaline, going through his veins as he could feel some pieces tie together in his head, assisted him in boldly asking another question. “Yuka-nee-chan, why’s your bag wet?” He pointed at the stain. Pausing, the woman looked down, stopping her crying slowly as she genuinely looked confused and puzzled. “Huh…? Oh… I spilled orange juice on it earlier, I think… Sorry, I-I’ll try to stop crying now.” She brought out a handkerchief or tissue and wiped at her eyes.

Conan felt too bad to press further, and couldn’t ask anymore of the circulating questions in his head as he stood there, watching. But contrary to his actions, Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko ran up to the woman, immediately trying to comfort her as Haibara looked passively, unimpressed, at Conan.

The next person who was in the boy’s line of sight was Avaran Yamauchi, the blonde best friend as Conan recalled. Quickly he went up to the lady, who wasn’t crying but clearly was trying to hold back the sadness of her face as she had, from a psychologist’s standpoint, a closed position. But nobody ever had their guard up with a little kid, especially when they first met, so Conan went up to the woman and pawed at her dress. “Avaran-nee-chan?” He asked, using the same sweet tone, and the lady blinked before looking down.

“...Eh…? Bozu ?” She asked, fumbling with her nails. “What is it you want?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve been here before!” He asked with a bubbly tone.

Shuffling, she readjusted her gaze as she sat more comfortably on the seat. “We all have… well, as much as we could anyways. We liked this place because it rented out rooms for cheap and you could leave for drinks and still have the room reserved. Arita-san and Yuka-kun would drag me here every weekend, you see.” Then she widened her eyes as if realizing that she was just speaking to a six-year-old kid. “But that’s personal! And by the way, I didn’t know that Yoshihiro-kun worked here, just for the record.”

“...Of course!” He said, dragging off the sunny tone, and she gave him an eerie look before Conan went on to interrogate the last suspect.

With bubbly steps, the blue-eyed boy- underneath watchful eyes- rushed over to the store worker, Yoshihiro Isa, who was chipping away at his nails nervously. He was tense and was dripping with sweat as looked questioningly at the police. He’s hiding something.

“Mister?” he asked, looking up, and the man who heard his voice immediately froze before rigidly looking down, blinking in relief as he realized that it was just a kid who was talking to him. He wiped at his eyes, which were dripping with tears- but of fear or sadness, it was hard to tell, and the handsome face looked ruined as he nervously jiggled around his feet. “Are you nervous about something?”

The question seemed innocent enough on it's own but the man looked both furious and sheepish at the query. “ B-boya !?” He shouted, flinching as Conan took a step closer. The latter frowned, not used to people being so frightened by his six-year-old form. “Don’t come closer- O-OFFICERS! Who let this little boy into the c-crime scene, anyways!?” Through the rage he shuffled and called out, with people looking at him botheredly as he tardily winced.

Nobody answered his questions, though, and Conan grinned cheekily in an attempt to relax the man. But it only seemed to do the opposite as he tensed up even more, standing up to back away. “Why are you sweating so much?” Conan asked, tilting his head, letting brown locks fall next to his ear.

“...I’m sad… so sad, so sad, that Taka-chan’s nee-san is…” He left that sentence go unfinished, and the words that finally left his mouth seemed enough to make him untense in an instant and Conan frowned. What a peculiar man- not that he hasn’t encountered people like this before. “B-but you… go cheer up Taka-chan, alright? She’s… heartbroken, I can tell. She really thought highly of her nee-san…”

Knowing that he wouldn’t get any more answers out of this man, Conan shrank back, putting his hands down and nodded contently. The man, Yoshihiro, seemed far more satisfied after he was alone but Conan could see the multitude of points on him which made him feel terribly fearful. But why?

He shook his head, slapping his own cheek internally. Questioning each of the suspects took time, but it was the way that Conan did things. Bothering Takagi again, Conan went up to the thinking police officer, who stopped talking with Amuro in the short time that Conan was questioning Yuka Takaki, who was currently considering things, clearly, in his thoughts. “Takagi-keiji?” He asked innocently, and the officer looked up at the mention of his name as he lowered his head and realized it came from Conan.

“Conan-kun? Sorry, I was just… thinking.” He blinked, rubbing at his tired eyes that Conan noted. Perhaps his favourite officer didn’t get enough sleep, because he yawned and stretched. “What was it you wanted to ask?” He polled as the kid watched him place down his pen and notebook onto the nearby couch.

“Did you ask why it took Yoshihiro-san a whole ten minutes to go to the washroom?” He asked, dropping all formalities. Takagi nodded, taking his notebook and flipping through it's pages, while Conan noted that the officer had very nice handwriting, befitting of him, really. “Well, the average time it takes to walk from his work station down to the customer washroom and back is five minutes and the other five is pretty… well, self-explanatory.” Conan nodded.

But there was one matter that Conan had suspects greatly- and that was the fact that none of the suspects seem to be trying to defend the fact that they had no alibi. “What were Kimiko-san, Yuka-san, and Avaran-san doing outside of their rooms?” He tipped his head, but not bothering to play the act of a normal elementary student. He could do that some other time, not when someone was dead.

“Ah… apparently they went out to get some drinks, and Kimiko-san wanted to go back first to grab her phone, or something, because she left it in the room. Avaran-san then left after telling Yuka-san that she wanted to go somewhere, and when she came back Yuka-san told her that Kimiko-san hadn't returned yet so they went back to go look for her.”

“I see...” Conan said aloud, eyes drifting. “Did Yoshihiro-san take his washroom break during this time? And why did he use the customer washroom instead of the staff one?” He raised an eyebrow, putting his pale and thin hands in his pockets. “Now that you mention it, he did. ” The police officer answered with wonder, and anyone could guess that he was shocked that he didn’t realize it before.

Conan stilled.

“Was there a message on, say, one of the suspect’s phones? Telling another of the suspects which room they were in, for example?”

“We checked, but there was nothing like that… in fact, nobody has even touched their messages since this morning.”

Which means...

“...Then, did they choose to reserve this room in particular?” 

Takagi frowned. “No, they randomize the rooms to see which one is available when the customers come. It's a walk-in store so things change a lot.” Conan’s sapphire eyes narrowed, as he quickly muttered a thanks to the officer and walked away, head in the clouds of deduction and hand to his chin.

That all makes sense, but… that person concerns me.

“If Heisei Holmes-san has figured it all out, then spit it all out.” The voice of Haibara rang out from beside him and Conan looked at the girl, followed by the other three, who had interrupted his thoughts. Oh, he reminded himself. Agasa-kun’s really taking a long time… Was the sandwich that outdated? But knowing Haibara and Agasa, it really was possible. (Haibara was the kind to throw out a sandwich a day before it expires and Agasa was the kind to not care at all and eat it anyways.)

“Huh? Oh...Well… I know how the trick works and who killed Kimiko-san,” Conan offered against his thoughts. “I’m still thinking about one small detail though… it… bothers me, to say the least.”

“Hmm? Even the ‘Great Detective’ is stumped, then?” Haibara gave him a small smirk, despite knowing the entire process. Just that small little thing… it disturbed Conan and made him think harder. Why did that person’s...? But he shook his head instead of speaking his thoughts to the other, and he wished he had a ball to kick around. “No, I’m more or less curious rather than perplexed…”

Haibara huffed while Ayumi’s eyes sparkled, and Mitsuhiko and Genta pumped up their hands. “You’ve figured it out? Then why don’t you just say it out loud instead of being so mysterious about it!?” Genta asked, pinching the side of Conan’s cheek.

But the latter didn’t even react.

Why don’t you say it out loud?

I see. So that’s how it is! That’s how they killed Kimiko-san, then creating this simple but perfect locked-room murder!

He looked up, sapphire eyes shining, as he stared right at the person who killed Kimiko with burning bright and intense eyes, and felt a smirk crawl up onto his face.

 

====

 

The moon was silver and shining, the silhouette of the trees casting their shadow over her gracefully sculpted face. The four of them were meeting in this clearing, her, two men clad in black, and a third person- just the mere shadow of- leaning against the trees.

“What did you call me here for?” Sharon asked, tilting her head, letting her platinum-blonde hair fall next to her ear. The grin that the silver-haired man in front of him, Gin, was pointing at her face was beyond unsettling and how his hand was so clearly wrapped around a gun in his pocket didn’t loosen the unease.

Clicking his tongue, Gin rested his tight posture. “I wanted to discuss… Sherry.

“What about Sherry?” She raised an eyebrow. Sherry, Sherry, the young scientist of the organization, still pitifully alive and in hiding- or so most thought. The truth was clear to her. Hiding amongst a slab of grade school kids, much like him, being reduced from glory to shame… pretending to be a child. Haibara Ai was the name that Miyano Shiho gave herself, and surely she didn’t expect to escape for long.

She was indispensable. At least, that was the original thought. Now, she was nothing but a pawn on the chess board to be sacrificed in a moment’s notice. They didn’t need her anymore, not if she had turned tails on the organization… not that they weren’t thinking of disposing of her earlier.

“Rum… has given us direct orders to finish her off.”

The lasting words made her hum, a little bit, while the man in the shadows narrowed those sharp eyes. He spoke in a harsh way, a light voice contrasting against his cold-bitten words. “ Rum himself, huh… so all we need to do is find this Sherry and slice her neck, yes?”

Gin ‘tch’ed. He didn’t like this newcomer any more than Sharon did. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, Everclear. No. I want to see the despair on her face as she finally loses that insect-like will to live… by now, she’s probably with some pesky FBI… if they are stupid or sharp enough to take her in.”

“...I see.” That one called Everclear said, shifting. A more quiet silence stretched through the clearing as Sharon’s irritation rose.

She picked at her nails, the very personification of apathetic boredom. “And? Where’s Bourbon? Sherry… she’s no stupid girl. We’ll probably need his… insight, I say.”

 Gin snorted, as if amused by the thought and Vodka, standing next to him, stiffened with his sunglasses, so unnatural in the dark. Sharon never knew why he always wore those shades, but there has to be some story behind them. “Bourbon’s busy with some… stuff… I heard he ran into a murder.” He blinked. “He’ll probably get the orders from Rum some other time.”

Murder, huh? Strangely fitting for Bourbon. Working with him told Sharon that he was one to run into death often, not surprising as having a codename in the organization, but there was a steep killing intent that dripped out of him as soon as something he considered a threat happened. His eyes turned an eerie silver and Sharon knew for a fact that he could point a gun at a person without having a single thought of remorse.

She shuddered. Today was cold.

But not that cold. Enough to consider as they talked about the eventual death of Sherry.

Sorry, Fubuki, she barely thought, knowing how the kid was now attached to Sherry’s shrunken form. She’s always going to be in danger… which will then put you in danger, and I cannot allow that. So, she brought out her gun, staring at it with daggering eyes, Sherry will be dead soon. I hope you’ll forgive me.

That is, if he ever remembered who Sharon was, to begin with. 

Notes:

Wow. Only 10,000 words, which is 3,000 less than usual, and yet it took so long... This is another part I and part II chapter, simply because again, it will be far too long.

Ah, I apologize-! I never knew how hard it was to write a murder until now. Mad respect for Gosho Aoyama-sama. Researching this stuff is so hard... I had to use various research papers that inspired me, and piecing together this one murder caused my head to break, because every time I think I covered all the details required, there's even more to be written-! I probably still missed something but I can't think of what. All the details for this murder (that I think are needed) are right there! You guys might be able to figure this one out. (I'm proud of myself for it, though.)

In truth, this chapter was supposed to be up yesterday if I could have just written 2,000 more words, but I was completely out of it yesterday. It took me a whole five days to research and plan this murder, and wanting to stick to my non-existent schedule of a chapter every two weeks at the very least, so I stayed up until 4:30am to write, and then I had a guest come over so I had to wake up early, getting a total of four hours of sleep. So, I decided not to do that and finished it up today instead. I think it was the right choice.

(And I've been busy this week with family things and am writing another free fanfiction, Gosho Boys Adventures, staring our favourite Gosho Boys, and am translating an incredible novel called Lock of Instinct by Chrides. Warning, it is explicit and not for children or the faint of heart.)

If you can't tell, here's a spoiler! The next major arc is swiftly approaching (faster than I originally thought) and it's called the Shadow Nearing Sherry Arc! Be prepared; it's heavily inspired by Detective Conan episodes and is dark. Like, incredibly dark.

One more thing, because this Note isn't long enough yet. Next chapter, apart of revealing who killed my dear Kimiko Arita-chan (random Japanese name generator), there will be a fluffy and more-or-less heartwarming scene! HOWEVER: it can only apply to either Kaito or Heiji, and the other will come after the Shadow Nearing Sherry Arc. Which means, you guys can vote for the character you'd like to see interact with Conan next chapter: Kuroba Kaito (Hakuba may or may not be there, we'll see) or Hattori Heiji (but Kazuha will definitely be there). If nobody votes then I'll do a random wheel generator, so we'll all get one cute fluffy scene and I'll be happy to write it.

Oh. And I somehow forgot, to thank everyone for 1,000 hits!!! As always, have a good rest of your day and this chapter is not beta'd, so tell me if there's a mistake.