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Caederophobia

Summary:

Fubuki Carasuma was by far the youngest member of the Black Organization, holding the codename Kirsche at the tender age of ten. When he reached that age, he was arranged to change caretakers, and his presence first became known by Sharon Carasuma, or better known by some as Vermouth.
After a special operation to save two of their own members, Fubuki was kidnapped by the Kudou's, and things had changed. He wasn't called Fubuki anymore, and instead had a new one.

Kudou Shinichi.

Amnesiac to his own past and unaware of his time as Fubuki, Shinichi solves cases and manages to catch the wandering eyes of the organization. To bring him back, the drug APTX-4869 was used to supposedly knock him out, but turned out to send him to a state of near-death before Shinichi was turned to a kid- and in a large woven web of lies, he becomes Edogawa Conan. The organization are on a quest to search for a secret, as well as get their youngest member back, while everyone on the other side is trying to keep Shinichi from becoming Fubuki once again. And, some in the middle are trying to keep Shinichi for themselves.

Due to personal problems and lack of time, author will be on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time.

Notes:

Originally, I was going to call Fubuki "Absinthe", but then I did some further research. Apparently, most fanfictions has already called Black Organization!Shinichi "Absinthe", and I figured that I would be just another copier by doing so. Besides, Absinthe is a drink with a high concentration of alcohol, and is known to actually be able to kill people. Even though we have a young Black Organization!Shinichi, he is not the type to kill. So, I called him Kirsche, an alcohol that tastes like cherry but isn't quite as sweet as most cherry-based alcohol.

I gift this chapter to my inspirations, Absinthe by @Snow_Darby and shatter by @BlackSclera!

Thank you for deciding to read.

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

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Prologue

Sharon Carasuma, or Chris Vineyard, walked into her father’s office. 

The place was old and smelled like the fresh print of books, like it always did, with now an aroma of lighthearted cigarettes and liquor balancing in the making. Her father was sitting on the chair, back facing the entrance, as per usual, but instead of turning at the sound of Sharon approaching, he stood up and faced the actress with a dead-serious glint in his eyes.

“Sharon,” he said, in a husky voice, not bothering to drop his flat tone as those lifeless grey eyes stared back at her own. “I have a… task of some kinds, for you to do. I wouldn’t rather let anyone else handle this.” The pale blonde clenched her jaw, ever so slightly, at those words, and the pressure in which her father was instilling on her in order to ensure that she would follow through to the end in an attempt to not feel the crushing disappointment from her father, known as the boss of the Black Organization himself.

So she nodded. “Yes? What is it do you need me to do?” She asked gently, pronouncing a posture of relaxed interest, where the leader smiled approvingly. Sharon hated, entirely, to the bottom of her core, at how much her stomach fluttered at her father’s approval. He shouldn’t have so much influence on her mindset.

A small footstep echoed from behind the desk, and Sharon looked downwards to no avail, and stared right back to her father after the movement. He replied, crossing his arms and bringing out a boy.

“This is my other son. His name is Fubuki Carasuma.” Pleasantly, he echoed, and the small kid looked up at Sharon with large, enchanting blue eyes, innocently batting his lashes as if never having to stare death in the face before. He looked nothing like Sharon nor like their common father; but then again, the actress looked nothing like the boss to begin with. 

She was tall and deathly pale in tone, with perfectly modeled features past her bridged, long nose and perfect lips. Her eyes were gimmering turquoise eyes, which were reminiscent of the top of an endless ocean, with hair like an icy blonde that fell gracefully just past her shoulders. Her father wasn’t a tall man, no, and his hair had gone slightly grey from all his time alive, with a long, hooked nose and sharp silver eyes. His posture was perfect, how he spoke every word was aristocratic and elegant in his own way.

The kid that her father brought out was an entirely different story. He looked to be about ten years of age, was tall for that age group and had flimsy arms and legs that surely wouldn’t be able to shoot a gun with grace. He was looking down at the floor, nervous and young with fresh innocence, and he mumbled something underneath his mouth. But his features were stunning for someone so young, and even Sharon could admit that without shame.

His hair was a dark, chocolate-like brown, and it fell close to his ears, with a cowlick in the front and tied in a tall bun in the back. His skin was tanner than Sharon’s, but still pale, and smooth and soft. His face was rounded and his nose was short but tall, with pale lips and chubby kid-like cheeks, and he gave off an aura of sinlessness that didn’t fit at all into the role of being the boss’ son.

 But his eyes were what drew Sharon truly in. Glimmering like a sea-blue, sparkling with artlessness, or a ghost that could peer into the darkest depth of the soul for the single and only truth, soft and unassuming but sharp and intelligent.

There was something wrong and contradicting about the kid, and it made Sharon stare down at the kid menacingly. “Sharon, don’t scare him. After all, I want you to be taking care of him for the next few years.” A voice suddenly ringed out through the room, making the actress look up in genuine surprise.

She paused, waiting for the information to fully process through her mind. 

 

Surely he was joking? Sharon, known as Vermouth, one of the top members of the Black Organization, taking care of a small kid so much younger than her, looking timid and weak and pretty? She bit her lip in frustration, carefully hiding any other remains of that emotion behind a mask of forced calm.

She was busy. Busy with keeping up her appearances as Chris Vineyard, as Sharon Vineyard, as Vermouth. She didn’t have the time to be babysitting a frail kid. Busy with dealing with that pair of manipulative idiots, Gin and Vodka, and busy with making sure that the world didn’t know the influences the Black Organization had a hold of.

“I know what you must be thinking, Sharon.” Her father sighed, looking straight past Sharon’s facade in an instant, and she let the mask loosen and fall into a look of exasperation. “But there is a reason I haven’t shown Fubuki to anyone just yet. You see, he’s… well, to say, special. Gifted, in many ways of the mind. He could be very useful assistance to you and the other members, and he already has a codename, too.”

Sharon froze, feeling an eerie shock spinning over her shoulder. She could be shocked, or terrified, or something among the interested, and she wasn’t exactly sure which was which- the kid couldn’t be more than ten, and already did he have a codename too? And to get recognition from him was a far greater accomplishment than it seemed like. She’d only ever heard her father compliment a handful of people.

“His codename?” She finally forced out, in a soft, uncaring tone, which she was sure her father saw through instantly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, only minorly interested as the kid looked up at Sharon with eerily glowing blue eyes. Surely that wasn’t the case- it was all just a trick of the light. 

“His codename? It’s Kirsche.

 

=

 

One week later, since that moment, Sharon still had little to no idea of what made Fubuki so special. She just moved into this hotel today, and has been hopping from hotel to hotel, staying at one for no more than three days at a time, with the little kid trailing her almost everywhere except on public appearances and the washroom. Sure, he was young and delightfully pretty for his age, but features were not even close to enough to get acknowledgement from the head of the Black Organization. There had to be something more, something hidden beneath that listlessly innocent face.

Speaking of the devil, the blue-eyed boy sat up in the bed and stared at Sharon nervously. Impatient, the pale actress sighed, and asked, “What is it?” She hadn’t even heard Fubuki speak much over the course of the week. And when he did, it was mostly about telling her that he was going to take a bath, or to grab a delivery at the front gate.

“Uhm. Sharon-nee-sama, the meat in your fridge is probably unfrozen now, and it’s kind of likely that the taste won’t be as good… I suggest that you maybe should buy a new one for the people that are coming for tonight…?”

She froze.

“How did you know?” She asked, coming closer and looming the shadow of her figure over the small child. He didn’t look through her phone, did he? Surely the fragile kid wouldn’t dare to do such a thing to Vermouth , of all people. He seemed far too afraid for such a thing.

But Fubuki merely blinked, fluttering his eyelashes in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I know that someone would be coming over tonight?” He asked nonchalantly. “Judging by the fact that you always make dinner, and that the slab of meat you brought out was far too large to share for one actress and one kid... that someone- most likely a pair of men, by how the plates are arranged in the dishwasher- are coming over tonight…” He paused, taking Sharon’s unmoving face as a sign of something bad. 

“Oh- uhm, sorry if you meant that how I knew that the meat was going to go bad… It's because of the layout of the room. The washroom is right next to the kitchen area, and seeing that you always take around an hour when washing as you prefer bathing over showering, that naturally the steam coming from the washing room would rise and make the fridge less effective… But I’m sure you already know all that. Sorry...”

It was the most that Sharon ever heard Fubuki speak, and it hit like a sudden mine buried in a battlefield. She felt like she started to understand slightly more of why the boss thought that the kid was special. Sharon wanted to see more of what the kid could do in his mind, and his perception was much better than Sharon had assumed, and perhaps, if only Sharon knew more, that Fubuki could be just as knifelike as Bourbon.



The next opportunity that Sharon got to see that acute sense of keen insightfulness was later that day, when the two members, Gin and Vodka, had come. It was almost a miracle, how they got in with no body or luggage searches in such a grand hotel, but Sharon knew that they had their own ways of doing things. They came, dressed in black as usual, and how nobody questioned why they looked suspicious was a mystery in it of itself.

“Vermouth.” Gin pressed as the two came into the hotel room, and looked around to quietly memorize the layout of the room in case something went wrong; like if FBI agents suddenly charged in the room. Sharon scoffed at that. She wasn’t nearly careless enough for something tragic to happen when three of the most important members of the Black Organization were having a meeting in such a public room.

And she kept all thoughts to herself as she gave a cold, humorless smile. “Yes?” she asked, and suddenly her mindscape remembered that she had someone to take care of. Perhaps she should introduce Fubuki to the two suspicious men in black and see if something would come of it. Hopefully seeing more of the mind behind that nervous gaze. “Wait. Give me a few moments before you continue. I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

She waited for her words to sink in, watching as Gin’s eyes went slack with suspicion and could see the mindless twitch that made Vodka sink his hand closer to his gun. “Fubuki! Come here, won’t you?” 

Sharon called out, and only seconds later a timid, young head poked out of the next room, eyes wide and unassuming. “Yes, Sharon-nee-chan? It's the first time you called for me, is there anything… uhm…” The kid voice cut short at the sight of two menacing men looking down at him with cutthroat gazes. Sharon sent a motion for him to come.

Mousily, he walked over, keeping his head bowed but looking up with concealed curiosity and fear. As an actress, Sharon could see right through the gaze and she almost chuckled. Now that she knew that Fubuki wasn’t just some idiotic and timid brat, she felt like she could connect with the young kid more.

“And the one you wanted to introduce is this kid? A ten-year-old?” Gin pressed heavily, putting his hands in his jacket. “Why is he here, to begin with? It’s not like you, Vermouth, to be a babysitter.” Sharon laughed. It was almost like the silver-haired member of the Black Organization plucked the thoughts straight out of her mind, a week ago.

Fubuki seemed nervous, and the actress could understand why. But it was time to put his fears to the test. “Don’t be scared, Fubuki. They won’t hurt you. At least, I’m certain they won’t.” Vermouth gave the two equivocal men a deathly glare. “Fubuki, these two very friendly misters are Gin and Vodka. The two of you, this is Fubuki.” She paused, hesitating slightly if not she should add the next part, before deciding to do so and crossing her arms. “The boss himself has assigned him to me.”

Interested, the silver-haired man’s eyebrows rose. “Is he anything special?” Vodka asked, while that interest faded and Gin snorted at very friendly misters. Vermouth gave a small, chilling smile. She was about to put Fubuki to the test, right then and there, and it would show Gin and Vodka to not touch the boy. 

But then something unexpected happened- Clang. Coins of silver, worth no more than fifty cents altogether, fell out of the kid’s pockets, one rolling on the floor next to Vodka, who gave Sharon an unimpressed look before picking it up hastily. The built man stretched out his hand, making Fubuki come over and picked it up with a trembling, small, hand.

The young boy accepted the coins and pocketed them, but Sharon didn’t fail to notice how the intense blue gaze shivered over Vodka’s hand before doing so. Vermouth smirked inwardly, to herself, as something about Fubuki seemed to change as a deep concentration, hidden before, began to rise to the surface.

“Rather clumsy, isn’t he?” Gin stated, sitting on the couch himself and the observant man probably noticed the enticingly stiff eyes which the kid now had.

Sharon put a single hand onto Fubuki’s shoulder, which caused him to flinch and look back at the woman with now clear alarm in his blink. “You have something to say, don’t you?” If the perception she saw earlier wasn’t a fluke, then this would be the deciding show.

To her surprise, instead of stammering up like she half of her mind expected, or going into a thinking trance like the other half did, the kid bit his lip and looked up at not Gin but Vodka. “Actually… I’ve been wanting to ask Vodka-nii-sama something since he came in…” He looked up at Sharon, as if asking for permission, which she nodded with an unavowed grin.

“Mister, how did you get through the security measures when you just killed someone with a gun? No, that’s a dumb question…’ Those unsettling sapphire eyes enlarged as he looked up, steadily having an edge of confidence that replaced the timidness he expressed just a few moments prior.

When nobody spoke a word, Fubuki took it as a sign that he could keep going. “Actually, If you don’t mind my asking… Why did you use a gun when you were much better with the knife at that distance?  You were only three meters away from the young lady you killed, weren’t you?” It came out in one breath, and was one breath that left the room with deadly silence.

For a few, throbbing heartbeats, nothing happened.

“How did you-!” Vodka’s eyes, hidden on most days behind those pairs of sunglasses, rounded with surprise. Sharon smiled, and something in her chest was confirmed, and she placed a hand on Fubuki’s dark, soft hair and ruffled it. Instead of reacting like his partner, Gin merely looked down at the young boy with monotone eyes. 

Perhaps feeling that strange coldness wash over him, he looked up at Gin and shuffled to hide behind the couch with Sharon on it. When nobody made a move, a small, nervous voice called out; “Do you really want to know…?”

Vodka nodded, slowly.

“Uhm, your hand when you helped me with that coin… it had blisters on the index and thumb fingers, which are common for a person who uses heavy-handed guns with high caliber ranges, and marks that you just used a gun not too long ago… but there were also bruises on the side of the palm, which can mean that you use knives a lot, too… Probably better at using the latter, judging by how the bruise has spread to the middle of the palm lightly, too.” 

The kid took a deep breath in, and Sharon, along with the other two, listened intently, with Sharon being interested, Gin having an amused and bored glare, and Vodka with a bead of sweat, dripping down the side of his face.

“There’s also a droplet of blood on your shades on the very edge. From how your clothes are damp, but not wet, I’d guess that you were outside but had some sort of ceiling over your head, which meant that wind speed would still apply to you. Only the back of your coat is slightly wet, so I thought that you were facing north, because the wind was blowing southward today. Taking the wind speed and how fast a bullet could be shot into a person into account, to have blood sprinkled onto your shades, she couldn’t have been more than three meters away. Using a gun for less than four meters is immoral and impractical because it’s too easy to disable, so the reason that you are confident in that you were against a person you consider to be weaker than yourself. However, your physique is much better than most average humans’, but you clearly respect your partner, Gin-nii-sama, so you know that thinner people could fight back against you as well. The person you were shooting had to have been a woman you were sure was weaker than yourself...” 

Abruptly, Fubuki stopped his deduction.

“I’m sorry! I rambled on again… I…” He snuck back into his room, faster than a rabbit, and something akin to sick pleasure spreaded across Vermouth’s face as she let the breathtaking logic wash over her in its entirety.

To think, the timid little kid who was too nervous to even talk to Sharon, had such a brilliant and keen foresighted mind underneath that facade of young innocence.

“I see why the boss wants you to take care of him.” Gin commented offhandedly. “He’d be useful to the organization. Even if he has the courage of a mouse.” He paused. “Does he have one?” The silver-haired man took a second-glance at Vodka, who was still wrapped up in the deduction of a ten-year-old, eyes large and wide.

Vermouth knew what Gin was talking about. “He does. Probably the youngest to ever get one, too. It’s Kirsche.” A codename, at the minor age of ten, was too much of an impressive feat… and Sharon could begin to understand why.

“He’s a brat, isn’t he?” Gin breathed. “He reminds me a lot of Bourbon. Except more obedient, and less the type to stick his nose up in everything. That makes him a lot more useful to us, doesn’t it?” Offhandedly, the silver-haired man turned. “We’ll leave for tonight, and talk another day. And be sure for when Bourbon meets the kid, that he doesn’t ruin his obedience, yes? Knowing that nosy detective… he’s going to try to meet the kid if he hears that a ten-year-old has joined the organization.”

Gin was right, of course. Bourbon was the type to find trouble and was curious in a way that reminded Sharon of Fubuki. And knowing the former, Bourbon was going to find a situation to meet Fubuki, no matter what.

 

==

 

The time came much sooner than Sharon expected- she thought it would take at least three months for Bourbon to locate the two, but it only took a month at finest. During the time, Sharon had been carefully building up a bendable and thin layer of trust between Fubuki and herself; and bit by bit did the kid’s true personality come out.

He was small and confident and very adorably child-like underneath his youthful nervousness, and had total belief in the one and only truth when what Sharon calls his “detective mode” comes on. He becomes a totally different person, and it almost feels like his features change, too, with eyes that turn a shade of eerily coruscant blue. It was almost like Sharon was peeling off his outer shell and revealing the boy underneath that was deserving of the codename Kirsche.

Sharon wanted to see more , more of the truth hidden just beneath the surface, and so she did things that the actress would normally consider entirely pointless. Like buying the kid some ice cream, and bringing him to a pool, and even initiating physical touches. Slowly but surely, she could begin to feel the trust between them. She could see that the two of them really were related, both sickly pretty, with Vermouth’s green eyes matched evenly with Fubuki’s blue, but their personalities contrasted. Vermouth was cold and frostily affectionate while Fubuki was straightforward and as cute as a kid should be, as well having a serious tinge underneath a nervous wreck of a personality.

They just happened to be passing by a cafe one day , and by coincidence a woman with a cat had accidently slipped and crashed into Fubuki. Sharon was beyond furious that someone dared to touch her younger brother. But to repent, the lady gave Fubuki a voucher for the cafe that she just so happened to not be able to use, and it was right next to the shop in question, so Sharon and Fubuki walked in.

The former immediately wanted to leave as the waiter walked over.

It was Bourbon! Dressed like a normal citizen of all things, and the look of shock on his face as he saw Sharon, followed by Fubuki, was something that mirrored back on the pale woman’s face. Out of any member of the Black Organization to meet, Bourbon was the one she wanted to see last. The deviously manipulative man always put a soft, confident smile on his face, and he would make such an imprint on a young, impressionable mind such like the one that Fubuki had. No matter how sharp he was, he still was just a kid.

That look of shock evaporated into a few seconds, and Sharon, at the very least, could give him a slow clap for that. Bourbon was stunningly good at hiding his true emotions and intentions. That was what made him so unpredictable, and so unneeded.

“Welcome to our cafe. Come sit at this table,” The waiter said, and motioned to a table in the very corner. The message was clear. Let’s talk privately, Vermouth.

She let it happen and sat where she was told, with Fubuki sitting by her side, holding her hand. Sharon frowned. When did the kid become this endearing? No, the better question was when did Sharon get herself attached to the kid?

Perhaps she felt overprotective of her sibling, but it was only natural. He was a kid, after all, and had a mind so sharp that Fubuki could nearly hold the title of the Silver Bullet where Vermouth had always looked for, and still is looking for. That man is not enough.

“What would you like to order today?” Bourbon asked, suddenly next to Sharon and she flinched invisibly. The blonde bowed down, and staggeringly met the sapphire eyes of Fubuki instead. 

“Uhm, if you wouldn’t mind, Sharon-nee-sama, could we get the ham sandwiches?” the kid asked, seemingly to be oblivious of the sudden pit of interest the waiter sent him in. Sharon just nodded, but her gaze glued to the Black Organization member currently innocently standing in front of her.

He stood lower, until he was just next to Sharon’s ear. “ Who’s the little boy you brought with you? ” Bourbon whispered, no doubt already knowing who it was, and he confirmed it. “ Could it be that phantom new member I’ve heard about? The one who is only ten years of age, is pure in heart, but has the cunning of the Devil?”

She breathed in heavily, eyes slitting into narrow lenses of iron. “ He is. He’s Fubuki. Don’t try anything on him, Bourbon. ” A light sigh went through her bones as her voice lowered, dangerously. “Or I really will shoot your head off.”

I wouldn’t dare.” Then, Bourbon stood upright. “Two ham sandwiches, coming right up!” He cheerfully walked away, shooting the kid one last deep-meant look, which for how perceptive Fubuki was, he managed to miss it entirely.

Later, after the sandwiches arrived, Bourbon had the audacity to sit down across from Fubuki, who was unbaffled and was focused on the sandwiches as the kid took one and nibbled on the crumbs, eyeing it intensely with a strange pouty expression. Finally, Fubuki noticed something was off and looked up at Bourbon with strangely sugar-coated sapphire eyes.

“Mister? Ahm, are you a waiter? Are you supposed to be sitting with the customers?” He asked in a childishly sweet voice, which dropped low suddenly into a tone of seriousness that Sharon could not have seen coming from twenty miles away. “Or are you sitting here for another reason?”

“Do you like books?” Bourbon asked, and it was such a sudden question that it caught even Sharon off guard. She always knew that Bourbon was good at changing the topic, but this was at an extreme. Surely Fubuki wouldn’t fall for such an obvious misdirection, given his angel-touched head, right? Bourbon continued. “You seem like the type to like books.”

To the actress’ surprise, a small smile- so painfully rare that Sharon had only seen it once- crossed the kid’s lips, and a soft blush like never seen before dusted his cheeks. “...I like books,” he mentioned softly, blinking with large, blue eyes. “Especially mystery books… like the Sherlock Holmes series.”

“Oh?” a large, unassuming smile split across the older man’s face, and Sharon gave him a deadly glare, daring him to try something. “ Sherlock Holmes, you say? It’s a hearty coincidence that I love mystery novels, too.”

Suddenly Fubuki’s eyes glowed with childish excitement, and the sandwich from earlier dropped out of his hands. “Really!?” he spoke in a voice louder than ever before, bringing his own height up to meet Bourbon right in the eyes. 

The two orbs of blue, though different in shade, were both as intense as can be, and Sharon felt bitter hatred for Bourbon. Adding on to what she felt before, of course. She should take Gin’s warning more seriously, next time, and absolutely forbid Fubuki and Bourbon from meeting…

“Yup.” Bourbon smiled kindly, and being the observant man he was he probably saw how happy Fubuki was. It made sense, though, that Fubuki would love mystery books; he always did stare a little too hard at the Sherlock Holmes books that were on sale in the book store. Except that Sharon didn’t try to read into it; because she thought that normal kids would be excited for ice cream and cake and all of that. Now that she thought about it, Fubuki was anything but normal.

The kid was smart beyond his years, and time and time again during the month he proved it. Locked devastatingly behind a nervously mousy personality, there was an air of absolute certainty that whatever he deduced was the true and only answer.

You see, he’s… well, to say, special. Gifted, in many ways of the mind . The boss’ voice rang throughout her head, and she felt like she began to understand that even more than she already did. Except, the boss wouldn’t call someone special just because they were shockingly smart; or else Bourbon would have been promoted ages ago.

There's more , Sharon realized. Even more to Fubuki than anyone ever thought of a small ten-year-old kid.

“Which one of the Sherlock Holmes books did you like? Personally I liked the Hound of the Baskervilles , but I haven’t read a few in the series just yet.” A cheeky smile rose up onto Fubuki’s lips, so unlike the nervous wreck before, and Sharon squashed down the killer instinct in her chest. Calm and collected. It was time to stop this little chat that Bourbon clearly manipulated the kid into.

“Amuro-san. Are you or are you not a waiter? I think I see a customer over there.” Just as Bourbon opened his mouth, Sharon spoke those words, and she could clearly see that the man was torn between talking back or continuing his undercover job. In the end he chose the former and relented, standing up from the chair and looking back at an almost disappointed Fubuki.

“You’re right. I’ll go attend to the man in a moment, but first, what’s your name, kid?” Bourbon gave a kind smile in turn and politely put his hands behind his back. Sharon would have really preferred for Fubuki to not say anything, but she couldn’t stop it now or it would draw out mass suspicion. 

“My name? Uhm…. it’s…” The kid paused, as if sensing Sharon’s distaste for Bourbon, before the boy gave out a small sigh of either relief or exasperation, and Sharon couldn’t tell, just bewitched by the fact that the kid gave out an emotion that wasn’t small happiness or nervousness. “I’m Fubuki,” he continued. “What about your name?”

“Hmm? Fubuki-kun, then?” Bourbon blinked at Fubuki’s nod. “I’m Amuro Tooru, number one waiter at this cafe, des !” He said it in a childish voice that resonated when the man introduced himself as Amuro Tooru, putting pressure on the last syllable of des. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll see you-”

Before he could finish, a blood-curdling scream shot throughout the room like thunder, and immediately Bourbon looked back in shock and the chiming sound echoed twice through the room as the man ran over to the source of the sound. A woman, around thirty of age at most, looking down at an old man’s body with a frozen figure and shocked, round eyes.

“Matsushita-san?" Frailly, she reached out to the body with a pale hand. There was blood and bubbles dripping out of the man’s mouth and- and an expression of utter fear and despair on the man’s face. An expression that Sharon, as Vermouth, has seen so, so many times over.

The face of someone who was, and knew he’d be murdered.

“Stand back.” Bourbon rushed to the body, slapping the woman’s hand away in the process. He put a tan hand to her face, checking for the pulse, and to Sharon’s surprise Fubuki rushed right for the body too, slithering in between tall people with his petite stature. Bourbon closed his eyes in a convincing sadness as Sharon crossed her arms, recomposing her perfect posture as if nothing was wrong.

This is turning out to be a terrible day, Sharon thought, as Fubuki asked in a small, nearly trembling voice; “Is he dead?” 

It seemed like it was confirmed with a subtle nod of the head by Bourbon, whose face looked gravely and as if he truly was saddened by a man’s death. Only the devil would know how many people that face and body had tortured until they begged for the blessing release of death. Bourbon’s acting could really get him a scholarship as an actor.

“It appears so. And it’s highly possible that he was poisoned, judging by the foaming that is forming around his mouth.” Fubuki nodded. “And the blood might have come from someone stabbing him, or perhaps he coughed up blood, which isn’t very likely due to no blood remaining around his mouth… it could be one forced death and one injury from the victim.”

The kid didn’t notice Bourbon’s pressuring stare on him, but Sharon sure did.

“...That’s right. Which means…. The murderer is one out of us nine in the cafe.” He pointed at the nine people standing, which included himself, Fubuki, and Sharon, before the kid in the middle shot up in a childish voice. 

“I think Sharon-nee-sama and I can be crossed off that list. The two of us have been sitting here, in the corner, far away from the victim together, which can be confirmed by everyone in the shop. If we moved over and poisoned the victim, it would be obvious, right?”

Bourbon nodded in quiet agreement. “I cannot be the culprit, either. I’ve been with those two in the corner the entire time, too. The three of us prove each other’s alibis. Right, Fubuki-kun?" What a little piece of… he was deliberately using Fubuki to prove that he wasn’t suspicious, so he could continue his little deduction show.

“Right, Amuro-nii-sama!” the familiar child voice rang throughout the room, and Sharon relaxed. It was fine. Bourbon was sharp, and so was Fubuki. They’ll figure out the murderer and this freak show of a day would be over. Sharon was going to drag Fubuki to their new hotel room, get him to watch television and go out on an excuse to buy him a Sherlock Holmes book, go murder Bourbon’s brain, then actually buy the book and go home to the kid.

It seemed like Bourbon could almost see what Sharon was thinking, because a drop of sweat fell down his face. 

“Five suspects, then. The other waiter in the back should be able to be crossed off because they were in the washroom the entire time, judging by how the door never opened since the moment we came in.” Fubuki chanted, suddenly serious. It was in these moments where the boy transformed his personality from a fumbling kid to sharp-witted mastermind who could weave together plots and cut through to the truth. Sharon could not stop but had a long smirk to her face.

It was so very unlucky that the culprit of this little case just had to have both Bourbon and Fubuki there, at the same time. Sharon would wager that it would be wrapped up in a couple of minutes. Then she could proceed with her plan to decimate Bourbon for daring to mess with Fubuki’s innocent little head.

“May you introduce yourselves?” Asked Bourbon, raising up one handsome eyebrow in something akin to curious amusement. The five suspects rapidly spun their heads to stare at each other in something like sheepish agreement.

“I’m Miya Hasuba,” the first lady said, smiling. She was a brunette with dark eyes that had full, painted lips and wore a simple dress, followed by a crafty handbag. “I work as a receptionist for a hotel. This handsome man here is my boyfriend.” She pulled the arm of a guy by her side, with a dark slob of an excuse for hair but enchanting green eyes. “His name is Katori Matsubachi. He’s an excellent host on a television show!”

“It’s Koruba Kenchi, Heiyu Horisube, and Takasugi Yutaki. The three of us used to be in the same cooking club together… so was the victim, Katsuki Matsushita.” Sharon watched as Bourbon gave a small sparkle in his eyes, and the actress knew.

The entire case was over. Closed. Nothing more to see. Bourbon was going to expose the murderer right then and there and the police could come and take the culprit away. Too bad, really, that Sharon didn’t get to see Fubuki shine today.

“Sharon-nee-sama?” A small, kid whisper came from right next to her knees and she looked down, meeting eyes with a delicate ten-year-old. “We can go now, right? I think Amuro-nii-sama has figured it out, too… He can take care of the police, right?”

Sharon immediately caught on. “Too? ” She echoed, and her voice came out before her mind fully processed it all. “You mean to say that you know who the culprit is, as well?” Through her mild surprise, she barely registered Bourbon facing back and gave Fubuki a deep and thoughtful look. You wouldn’t dare, she challenged with a single look from her gleaming blue eyes. Don’t come closer to Fubuki, you organization dog.

Her attention was brought back to reality as Fubuki gave a wide, mischievous smile so unlike how he usually was, even when his “detective state” was on. “Yes! There wasn’t anything for the victim to hold onto with his right hand, either, nor was his hand bruised or damaged in any way. You see, the handle cup the victim was drinking out of was on the left, but the victim is right handed, as evident by the fact the backpack is on the right shoulder.” He smiled cheekily, whispering it to Sharon underneath his breath. She was just barely aware of Bourbon, looking over her shoulder and listening in, and tapped the chair next to her twice. Do not come closer.

“Which means that whoever put the cup there wasn’t the victim, and he had probably already died before we discovered the body. The culprit just put the poison on there to make it so that there were more suspects. However, only Yutaki-san’s left-handed, because she was using her fork to eat the sandwiches earlier. That’s what I noticed, anyway.” 

“...”

The deduction was stunning, and Sharon’s eyes widened minorly in surprise. Would he ever stop surprising her? It was almost like Fubuki was Bourbon, except a small, childish, cute and much more sweet Bourbon… 

“...But I think Amuro-nii-sama can do the rest… after all, you want to go back to the hotel, right?”

“How did you-” Sharon began, finally getting a word out. Sometimes, it was almost like Fubuki could read minds. He always seemed to know what was in a person’s brain before they ever spoke it out loud. Sharon could see why a brain like that was being brought into the organization, be it from a kid much too young or not. “Nevermind.”

Fubuki was a genius in the world of the mind. He would be a tactioner of death, weaving together plans worthy of praise as much as Arache’s Weavings do, leaving behind not a single trial of a loophole or evidence. He would be the central brain, brought up and raised by members of the organization precisely to assist the organization from the shadows. He would become something akin to the new “small-head” behind the scenes.

The thought made Sharon feel sick.

“You’re right. Let’s go, Fubuki.” Sharon smiled in a way that was barely forced. “I’ll leave the rest to you, Amuro-kun.” She ended it off like that and hastily left the restaurant with the kid. 

Later, she came back as planned, but to find that Bourbon was no longer there. The clever man must have figured it out beforehand and ran off to safety. Sometimes, Vermouth was glad that she worked with someone of Bourbon’s talents. This was not one of those times.

She sighed. This day was not going well.

 

===

 

Yukiko was planning something. 

There was a devious glint in her eyes the next time they met out for tea, brewing each their favourite as the cheery actress’ smile widened, unsophisticated. It was by chance that Fubuki didn’t come, but Sharon was glad for the sake of the lord that he didn’t- if Bourbon was a bad influence on the kid, then Yukiko was probably going to destroy the entire foundation of Sharon’s relationship with the boy with her charming, mother-like attitude.

Thank the worlds that Yuusaku didn’t come, either. The man was enchanting, handsome, and undoubtedly one of the most engrossing people to walk the earth. He was dastardly smart, great at all sports, and wasn’t lacking in money. Every young girl’s childhood dream man.

Sharon could see why Yukiko was so enthralled with him, but she didn’t understand why. Yuusaku was too self-centered, too demanding of others through the facade of mock kindness, and too… too everything that Sharon didn’t like. Secretive, manipulative, and full of false affection for something that shouldn’t be there.

“So, I’ve heard you have a new named member?” As usual, Yukiko was the first to initiate conversation, and this happened to be one topic that Sharon did not want to talk about. But, if she shed away from answering, it’d be like confirming what Yuusaku thought- after all, the man was always the one who convinced Yukiko of information.

Sharon decided to answer truthfully. Fubuki is already known to most of the organization, and she has no idea how Yuusaku always manages to find things out, no matter how well Sharon thought she hid the trails. “...Yes.” she confirmed, unable to hold back a small, truthful smile over her pale face.

“A kid, I hear!” Yukiko delightfully clapped her hands together in bubbly energy. Sharon’s eyebrow twitched. How did Yuusaku always figure these secrets out? Was her thought, before changing to don’t touch Fubuki! She bit her lip, angry, before forcing a look of calm politeness onto her features.

Yukiko must have noticed her little burst because the sweet lady brushed out her hands and stared at the other actress with a look of pure empathy, of pity, that made Sharon want to claw the woman’s throat out. She wasn’t the quiet, happy girl studying the art of disguise under their shared teacher with Yukiko anymore. She was Vermouth, one of the most high-ranking members of the black organization, cold-blooded and fierce and would kill without hesitation.

Letting the latter role play to her face, the apathetic expression bled throughout those model-like mouth and cheeks and nose, before it even spread to the bottomless pit of her eyes. Putting a perfect layer of boredom on top of every other emotion she could have ever had. And nobody would have even noticed, not even Yukiko.

“...He’s not a kid,” Sharon let out in a ghastly whisper. “No. His mind’s far too brilliant to be called a mere boya.” It wasn’t a lie. Sometimes, Sharon suspected that an adult was trapped in the body of Fubuki, the child. No matter which angle you viewed him from, Fubuki still looked like a young boy who was facially charming and always had either a nervous expression or a gentle smile over his pale lips. But, it doesn’t matter his form- Sharon just had an inability to treat him like the child he is.

To her surprise, Yukiko laughed endearingly. “Of course, of course!” Her voice suddenly dropped, and it was so unlike how she normally was that it sent Sharon shivers. “But… even if you say that, he is still too young for all of this… If I have to be honest, I don’t think what you're doing is good for the child, Sharon.” A small, sad and mysterious smile on her usually cheerful face, but it was enough to make Vermouth angry..

“He’s my responsibility, Yukiko.” Sharon bit out as smooth and calm as possible. “ I choose what’s good for the boy.”

The atmosphere seemed to light up instantly as Yukiko gave off a cheery smile, but her honey-coated voice didn’t match up with the words that were as cold as ice.

“We’ll see, Sharon! We’ll see.”

 

====

 

The first time that Sharon had heard that Fubuki would be undertaking gun-handling training, it had been two months since the two of them had originally met. Sharon found that she was melting her heart for the kid; who was far too sweet and child-like for that golden brain of his which he showed behind a soft barrier of lies. They did things together, watched movies, had fun, and it was real fun that Sharon hadn’t felt for years . It felt like she was getting too attached to Fubuki, and it made her just slightly upset.

When the news had arrived, Sharon had been completely against the idea. Just look at Fubuki’s thin and fragile wrists and elbow joints! If he touched a gun and the recoil was too much, surely he would break a limb or two. Sharon couldn’t stand that idea.

What made it even worse was that she heard that Gin was going to be in charge of that training, not Vermouth. Rum had apparently gotten tangled into the whole affair and when Sharon’s father was too busy, he had taken over. That sly mongrel of a man was far too impatient for his own good, and said that Fubuki should just proceed straight ahead. No warning for the kid. Just train him and find the eventual limit of the kid, and push him until those limits break and shatter into a million or thousands of pieces.

Talent was always something the organization kept an eye on, and it made Sharon sick to her spine. They cultivated talent, brewing it in the web of lies, and threw out any and all things that they couldn’t use anymore. Sharon did not want to think about what would happen to Fubuki if the boy finally reached his absolute breaking point. Being the boss’ son wouldn’t change that at all. In fact, it might even make it worse for Fubuki, like it did for Sharon…

So, Sharon could not help but feel terribly anxious as she drove the kid over to the shooting range, where a single figure dressed head to toe in black stood, silver hair waving in the wind. She let the quiet kid go off, and he did it admirably with an absolute look of carefully-knitted apathy. 

She had told him beforehand that emotionlessness was what was going to work best with a man like Gin, and it was like Fubuki was a master disguiser. Like another mask had suddenly developed and Sharon watched as the monotone expression fell ashen over Fubuki’s face.

He left the car in slow motion, twisting the car door before stepping out. Sharon let her eyes follow the kid before she left, to the separate room where she was allowed to watch the training; she was Fubuki’s supervisor and caretaker, after all.

She watched the screens intently, and listened through the various bugs spread throughout the shooting range. She watched, as the kid walked towards Gin, whose expression was motionless as grey-green eyes trailed over Fubuki.

The first to initiate conversation was Fubuki, who probably realized that given Gin’s stubbornly cold personality, he wasn’t going to say anything unless the former began. “Hi, Gin-nii-sama,” the kid greeted politely, waving with a subtle smile on his otherwise ashen face.

“...There will be no questions about what you will be doing today.” Gin completely ignored the ovation, much to Sharon’s aggravation. “I’m certain Vermouth would have filled you in on your shooting training, and how I will be your little babysitter for today. Bozu, you will be using this gun, for now.”

Sharon watched the man in black brought out a small handgun and pawned it to the kid, who stared at it with such an intense look that framed Fubuki’s delicate features perfectly. “The recoil shouldn’t be bad. But if it’s too much for your tiny little body to handle, then-”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but I can handle it just fine,” Fubuki snapped, and it was the first time that Sharon had heard the boy with more than a mere tone of light and childish irritation in his voice. Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen as a kid who couldn’t take care of himself. Or, maybe he didn’t like being treated as a kid despite his petitely shaped stature. There has to be something to explain his actions.

Gin raised his eyebrows, and Sharon wanted to snap the man’s neck off as a long, sly smirk crossed his face like lightning. Why were all of the people that her father recruited such eccentric, terrible people? From Kir, as fake as could be, to Bourbon, who was too sharp, to Rum who was sly and impatient, and Gin, the most suspicious one of them all. If a kid saw Gin, there would be no doubts that the child would call the police on the silver-haired man.

“...Fine. Go shoot from the meter line, brat.” Gin pointed over at a line marked with bright red, and stoically the kid walked over. Admirably playing the role of the emotionless boy that Sharon had told him to be.

The metallic gun in Fubuki’s hand seemed to be shaking, before Sharon realized that it was Fubuki shaking. No matter how much she liked the kid, she could do nothing about it now. It all came down to his own ability to deduce the way of gun-shooting.

He bends down to one knee, which was strange- expert marksmen would do such a thing, but it was practically useless against a small kid like Fubuki. But he held the gun with a single hand, his right, and closed an eye- Gin smirked. It was probably so painfully clear to him that this was Fubuki’s first time ever holding a gun, much less shooting it.

A deep breath came into the kid’s throat, before he let it out and opened his eyelids to release wide, sapphire eyes that seemed intently focused on the middle of the target, and if looks could kill, the target would have been stabbed to death already.

His small finger inched closer to the release point of the gun.

Gin’s intense stare and smile grew bigger.

Sharon wanted to smash the screen.

Bam. The sound of a gun triggering a bullet, shooting across the field before the recoil finally settles into Fubuki, who wobbled his waist before going up to the strange stance and shooting consecutively once more- one, two, three, four… five shots, in order, and all in an instant without Fubuki ever falling backwards or tumbling out of view of the camera.

With a single tap, Gin signified that the first round was over and Fubuki let the gun hand loosely by his side, staring holes into the surrounding area. 

The target was brought closer to Fubuki, and the camera was just in focus to see a fair chunk of the middle of the target blown out by holes. Sharon drew in a shaky breath at the look of stoic apathy over the kid’s face. Not a single care, just like Sharon told him.

He was too good at following instructions. Five shots, all crowded in the middle to make a perfect shot. 

Sharon blinked three times, processing everything in her mind as she slyly glanced at the gun she always held next to her chest for safety. It took her two years to reach that level, and that was through meticulous training given by the boss himself, and…

Fubuki was a brilliant genius among men, there was no doubt about that. Sharon didn’t know how to feel- somewhere torn between minor envy and pride. Again, she reminded herself… There is a reason that Fubuki has her father’s respect, and it wouldn’t be something as minor as gentle, caressing looks or a well-built, physical figure, even though Fubuki only had the former. Short and slim and thin, it was hard to see at first glance what had caught the boss’ eye about the kid.

Then again, Bourbon was recruited purely for his mind and for his martial art skills. There was always a reason for every member, a reason that their role exists. Though there is an extremely high chance of the organization being infested with rats, each rat didn’t dare to stand out above the rest.

“...Brat.” Gin’s voice suddenly called, and it was like iced water being poured over her head, how much of a wake-up call that was. Sharon blinked before staring at the computer screen once more, and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. Looking at a lighted screen in such a dark environment made her eyes itch with an echo of tiredness. “That wasn’t bad. Was it your first time shooting a gun?”

“...Second time. I used a sniping rifle once two years ago, when some officer was trying to kill… a friend, and I had to take the rifle from afar and shoot behind that officer’s feet so that my friend could escape... Or else he would have been stabbed to death.” Sharon blinked- it was her first time ever hearing that Fubuki had a childhood friend.

Now that she thought about it, she realized that she had never thought about what Fubuki’s life was like before the boss had introduced him to Sharon and put the kid in her care. She had never considered what might have happened to make the kid a nervous wreck when they first met, and what made the brilliance underneath that mask. It probably hadn’t been easy, but then again- when has any member of the organization ever had a simple, happy life?

Being the boss’ kid must not be easy. It never was, for Sharon either, but she was never recognized as his daughter until later in her teens. Not until she had finally accomplished something did her father say once that she was his daughter. Before then, it was an endless mission to finally get the boss’ acknowledgement, and when she did, she found out that it was all for nothing. She was worked to the bone afterwards…

For Fubuki to have earned that very same acknowledgement at his age, he must have done something so extraordinary that father had already claimed him as his son. Then again, given how old the boss was… age wouldn’t matter to a man who was close to conquering immortality.

“I see. Not bad then, kid.” Gin’s face suddenly split a scary smile that made Sharon press her face closer to the screen. “Do the next round, too.”

“Yes, Gin-nii-sama.”



“You thirsty? Shooting must have a toll on your small body.” 

“...Yes, please,” Fubuki politely answered as Gin gave him a pop can. “...Didn’t think you were the type to buy a bottle of pop for a kid, though. Not when you don’t seem to like me.” The kid twisted the cap open, eyes focused on only the pop as something about his expression tightened. The shooting grounds were silent, the peace disturbed only by Gin’s chilling words.

He laughed coldly. “Happened to pick some up, on the way here. When I heard that I’d be training a ten-year-old kid, I figured I should bring some along. Especially because I’ve seen how skinny you are. Vermouth should really feed you more.”

It was like the stoic mask had been ripped off, because the monotone expression that Fubuki had suddenly lifted into the childish innocence that Sharon had seen many, many, many times before now. “No! Sharon-nee-sama’s really kind to me! I get more food than I usually do, anyways.” He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Sharon has seen on screen since she started to watch through the camera. Perhaps her affection for the kid went both ways.

“Is that so?” Gin placed a hand onto Fubuki’s head and ruffled the kid’s hair, and it was something so unlike how he is that Sharon had to rub at her eyes to make sure she saw it right. There was no way that Gin was showing affection, right? “Well, drink up. We don’t have all day. Rum wants you to go through all the ranges by the end of today.”

As told, obedient like the Fubuki Sharon recognized, he held the can and the boy tipped the bottle of pop to his pale lips and- stopped, placing the plastic bottle down next to him, on the concrete ledge, carelessly letting the contents of the drink spill out.

“Hmm..?” Gin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not thirsty anymore? It’s not good to waste, you know.” Gin talking about what was good for a human to do was so strange that it made Sharon squint. The silver-haired man never cared about what was right and wrong. He was a bloodlusting monster who chose to leave everything in his past life for the organization.

The friendly kid-like expression that was just on Fubuki’s face seconds ago evaporated instantly, and he looked at Gin, staring daggers into those ice-cold eyes of the silver-haired man. “...What did you put in there?” He asked, and Sharon blinked along with Gin.

Did Gin dare to try to poison or immobilize Fubuki? He wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t dare to go against Sharon’s orders to not harm Fubuki without her permission, the one thing that she’d never give to Gin?

Then again, with Rum above her in authority for the kid, Gin pulling something like this wasn’t entirely impossible… Rum was prone to putting people to tests to figure out their worth… That impatient, phony and sly vexated man! There wasn’t a single positive trait about him! Just couldn’t go ahead and tell Sharon, couldn’t he!?

Gin would definitely try to kill one of their own, if it put a stop to his everlasting bloodlust. He wasn’t a man that cared for anything but himself and the organization.

Rum… I’ll be putting an eye on you. Sharon bitterly watched the screen, twirling her own hair. At times like this she was glad the kid was so sharp. But it was a mystery how he knew that there was something wrong with the drink; from a day to day basis Sharon had wondered if Fubuki actually had the power to read minds. Sometimes, he’d ask why she went out to a mountain house in a white taxi, or why she went into a bakery to buy a cake that she didn’t bring back or eat without her ever mentioning anything about it.

“...You knew I slipped a few too many sleeping pills in the drink.” Whenever Gin asked something, it never seemed like a question- more like a definite statement that was demanding straight answers. His eyebrow was lifted higher, with an expression of bored curiosity like he didn’t care about it at all.

Fubuki nodded, still on guard and glittering, sapphire eyes trailing the silver-haired man’s every move. This was one of those times where Sharon wished- just for a heartbeat- that her wish of the destruction of the organization came true, and she could rush in to help Fubuki. Gin wasn’t a person anyone could deal with alone, pardon from the boss and Rum, much less a pretty ten-year-old kid who defied the logic of the brain. In fact, it might not be a stretch for Gin to be suddenly annoyed and decide to pull out a gun to shoot Fubuki with. No matter how sharp or how quick his reaction was, Fubuki’s small frame couldn’t escape the grasp of Rum.

“...Of course I noticed. It would be extremely hard to not realize something was wrong when there was no sound of carbon escaping or bubbles rising to the top of the drink when I twisted the cap open.” Sharon blinked. 

“...Is that so?” After retracting his hand from his pocket, where surely there was a gun, Gin suddenly laughed, and it was a genuine one- still icy, yet not as cold-worded as before. “I see now why you already have a codename at your age, Kirsche .”

A pause.

“I see. So that’s how it is,” Fubuki blinked, and all of a sudden the youthful eyes were back with what might even be a smirk on the kid’s face. “You were testing me, weren’t you? No, some higher up was trying to test me. If I failed, my life would be forfeit.” He suddenly shuddered in realization, putting one hand to his mouth to cover it. “To think I might have died today, to Gin-nii-sama poisoning me in a drink.”

“That would be funny.” Gin looked down at the kid with a glare. “I would have terribly enjoyed watching you choke on air and seeing you sleep. Eternally.” The gun which was in his pocket that he didn’t touch before suddenly came out, so quickly, that it made Fubuki flinch and move out of the way of the silver-haired member’s hand. “Of course, I could still kill you. Watch you bleed to death with fear on your face.”

“...Don’t bother intimidating me. You’ve already ran out of bullets, haven’t you?”

Now it was Gin’s turn to pause. He did, for a good heartbeat, before putting that hand back into the black-clad pocket and chuckled, deciding to stop standing and sat on the concrete next to Fubuki. Seeing that guy so close to her sibling made Sharon uncomfortable. If only shooting the screen could be equivalent to shooting Gin in real life… 

“Hah. A little mind-reader, aren’t you? You’re almost like Bourbon, in that sense. Always prying into others’ business.”

“Amuro-nii-sama?”

“...Yes. That poisonous rat.” As if in deep thought, he looked killingly at the wall in front of them, before continuing on at Fubuki’s curious look. “Brat, I was not kidding about having to finish shooting by today. Come take this gun, this time; and shoot the next round before I reload my gun and actually shoot you.”

“Okay, Gin-nii-sama!” It was like he forgot Sharon’s words, and regained the kid-like attitude again and dropped the monotone facade. Perhaps he felt safer with Gin now. Which was ridiculous; just standing next to the guy was a danger; and Sharon never knew how Vodka stayed alive this long. Perhaps it was because he was dumb as a trash bag and just the type of brute that was good to use in Gin’s self-motivated plans. Or maybe it was because Gin viewed the guy as an “inexperienced little brother” type, because Gin was never so patient with anyone else but Vodka.

At least Fubuki didn’t die. Sharon herself will be having a conversation with Rum and Gin later, respectively, and make sure that they don’t ever pull something like this on Fubuki ever again.

 

=====

 

It was going to be Fubuki’s first mission. First one, in the five months that Sharon had been with the kid, and it wasn’t going to be anything terrible. She could see that behind his mask of being perfectly fine with what he had to do, Fubuki was trembling at the thought of having to do something truly bad. Something that would taint the pure soul which laid underneath the quiet, disclosed kid. And he confronted that fear of fear, with a forced layer of calm.

It wouldn’t be easy. Not with two lives at stake, and practically everyone involved depending on him. Bourbon and Rum were busy with another mission overseas and couldn’t make it back in time. So, the responsibility fell onto Fubuki’s small shoulders, as per the boss’ orders. As if the man knew that there was something else Fubuki could do.

He was to concoct a plan worthy of being called even Shakespeare’s play, something so brilliant that it would be easy to match those Sherlock Holmes novels that the kid loved and caressed so dearly. It would be a way to get Chianti and Korn out of a tight spot with twenty FBI on their tail and ready to take them into custody or shoot their hearts out with no mercy.

Chianti and Korn were working together with two nameless grunts, one female and one male, and both were shot through the chest with guns and laid dead and stiff. Sharon knew that, and Fubuki knew that, and also knew that if the kid didn’t play his cards right, Chianti and Korn would end up like that, too.

Fubuki was sitting by a desk with six different screens, four of which were displaying info at an alarming rate, and the other two on some graphing program where he was clicking a mouse over dots and typing in a mix of Japanese kanji, hiragana and English. Everything was happening so quickly that Sharon, who was watching from behind, could not help but stare. 

Finally, enough was enough. “Fubuki. Take a break, right now.” Sharon ordered, and knowing the kid’s obedient personality he would comply immediately. And like she expected, he stopped moving, reading off the ever-quickly scrolling screen and his right hand stopped typing and clicking with the mouse.

“...I can’t. If I stop now, the nee-sama and nii-sama will die, won’t they?” Quietly, Fubuki sniffled. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me. I don’t want to be a murderer.” And he looked at the tips of his fingers in weary fear. 

It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t for the fact that Sharon has started to grow on the kid and that Fubuki was literally shaking in his shows at the moment- after all, for an organization member to fear killing was like a salonist fearing touching hair.

“No. If you work yourself to death now, you’ll be too frail to be our director to execute this plan of yours later.” Sharon pointed out, and this seemed to strike something in Fubuki’s logical mind as he moaned painlessly and stared in futile.

“...Of course you are right, Sharon-nee-sama…” He stared emptily, glancing occasionally at the screens that he was doing something on. “Sorry… I just… I feel like it’s too simple. I feel like they have another objective, too...” Fubuki sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and then lying down on the desk.

Sharon kind of understood. It was like when she was a small kid, suspicious of everything but wanting to be a good person that would never have to hold the lives of others in her palm. It was different now- she couldn’t care less about life. Not when she frequently washed her hands with icy water of blood.

Fubuki was still a child. A brilliant one with near-endless merit, yes, but just a pure, naive child that doesn’t know that all characters in a play eventually have to get character development and realize that the world wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and there were just some things that couldn’t be changed by one person alone.

“It’s fine. Just take a break from that screen or you’ll lose your vision,” she joked lightly, hoping to make the kid’s mood slightly better. It worked, and he brightened up and jumped off the chair and stretched innocently. 

He twirled once, before taking a sip of what might be coffee from a cutesy adolescent cup and sat down on the couch next to the monitors and flipped the light switch, the light coming on in one sudden movement that made Fubuki rub his eyes.

He mumbled something underneath his breath before looking straight at Sharon with soft features. “Thanks, Sharon-nee-sama,” he laughed, almost carefreely. “I should probably sit here and reconsider the plan I have in mind… if there’s some serious loophole I didn’t think of, the nee-sama and nii-sama won’t be alive by morning…”

“Care to explain it?” Sharon asked with a friendly smile that she knew from experience was to ease even the most tense of people. “Then we can both look for loopholes, and I can help with patching anything needed up.”

Fubuki beamed. “Really...? You wouldn’t mind...?” There was eerie stress in his tone. The actress nodded slowly, adding on to the comfort her posture would provide. She was playing the classic “big-sister role” in this show, and it was sweet as honey. Fubuki trusted her completely and utterly. Like he should, she reminded herself- that was her job, as his caretaker and sister.

“Well… First, the nee-sama and nii-sama will need to head to the docks…”

 

They were there now, Chianti and Korn, both staring in stress. It was the dead middle of night, silver moon full and brightly shining, casting an equally dark shadow over their faces. Sharon knew that Korn was a perfectionist but his hair was all disheveled and his hate in tatters, and the usually broad and smug smirk that hovered over Chianti’s face wasn’t present. The actress knew that it was really bad when those two normally very apparent traits weren’t there.

Sharon herself was on a motorcycle, watching from a distance, with Gin, Vodka, Kir, Rye and Scotch all on standby. It seemed like everyone was completely decked out for this mission to save Chianti and Korn- and to think it all laid on Fubuki- no, Kirsche’s small, fragile shoulders.

He’s special. That’s what the boss had told her. And the boss had complete faith that Kirsche was enough to pull off making an ingenious plan that would save the two codenamed members of the FBI agents without a single casualty on their side.

So, Sharon would trust Fubuki. The plan really was worthy of everything less than absolutely brilliant. She couldn’t doubt the kid’s brilliance now, not when everything mattered for these thirty minutes.

Everything would end. Like a movie shot, except it was a scene of life-and-death and there was only one chance for every character to be played. Even so, she still had her own fears- what if someone didn’t play their role well? It wasn’t like Sharon particularly cared for any member of the organization, save for Gin and Fubuki… but if members died during the operation, she was sure that the boss would have Fubuki’s head. They couldn’t afford to lose codenamed members in a fight against the FBI.

“...Is everyone on standby?” Through the communicator in her ear, Sharon heard the lighthearted and childish voice of Kirsche, and she sent an affirmative, as did everyone else. Through this, she realized- there was not a single person who doubted the boss. And because of their absolute faith, they trusted (or at least, semi-trusted) that whatever Kirsche did was going to be the correct move, because the kid- for now- was the absolute will of the boss. It didn’t matter if he was just a mere child; because whatever the boss said was the single, authoritized best move for their cause.

“Alright. Nii-sama… no, it’ll be hard to differentiate- Korn, do you know where the agents on your tail are? And did the magnet work?” She heard the hiccup in his words, and recognized Gin’s snort from the black car around the corner. It was the first time that Fubuki had ever called someone in the organization, or anyone older than him, without an honorific. It looked like he was truly serious and wanted to save time, this moment.

The operation was beginning. Sharon herself pulled a sharp, shaky breath and solidified her own, true faith in Kirsche. They would not fail. Not now.

“Three are in the south, on the hills, hiding in the trees, five in the north next to the park fountain, ten are approaching us through the fishing buildings in the east and I do not know where the other two are, and the signal worked really well.” Korn answered perfectly, and Sharon heard some fierce tapping before the continuous confidence that he was right seeped back into Kirsche’s voice.

The confidence that he was right.

“...As I thought. Chianti, there is an extremely high chance that the two missing agents are actually coming to you through a small boat from the island across from you. Position your rifle to the island. Korn, please be alert and make sure nobody will disturb Chianti during this time.” Both did as told, and the orange-haired member pulled out her long-ranged gun and positioned it. “This right, bozu?

“Ten degrees left- yes, right there. When I give the signal, shoot one, move downwards one degree, shoot again, then move the angle three degrees right and shoot another time. Do it in the course of two seconds.” A soft huffle of breath. “Kir, catapult the thing I handed you earlier to the direction that Chianti is pointing the rifle at. Gin, Vodka, during that very signal please move through the directions I have sent you. Rye, move in over that position, angle is thirty-six degrees from where you currently are facing. Lastly, Sha- Vermouth move close to the docks and throw that to them, and Scotch assist her and make sure that Vermouth does not get hurt on the way.” Kirsche ordered, and suddenly a boost of confidence arose in not the kid but in Sharon- perhaps hearing the usually nervous kid suddenly confident in his own plan made it better for her, too. The casual words would probably make Gin chuckle if not for the fact that they needed to be quiet at the second.

A few heartbeats passed in silence, all of them just waiting for the signal to come.

  Many quiet moments later, Kirsche suddenly struck up, spelling into the communicator: “Now. Everyone- move out!” Sharon immediately lit up her motorcycle, flashed it twice to signal to Scotch where she was, and turned off the headlight completely and grasped the drawstring bag she was going to apport with an iron grip. Two consecutive gunshots, with a third following quickly, rang throughout the air in the quick moment of two seconds and a fourth loud clang reverberated in midair.

“Kir, Rye- shoot!” Kirsche’s next orders came so quickly that it was like a commander on a battlefield.

Another gunshot was fired, a large exploding sound following quickly after, but what was unexpected was Rye’s bullet diving straight overhead. She had no idea that Rye was this close to her- and if what she thought was right, and Rye was a rat, he could have just as easily blown her head off. Dangerous.

The sound of a loud rush on the ocean across from the docks that Chianti and Korn were facing was enough to get her attention, and Sharon looked over and saw the waves engulfing a ship that shouldn’t have been in eye’s range, for not the casted pieces now exploding out. “That’s two agents down. Rye, move to position two and Korn, do you see any agents around you?”

“Nobody within clever shooting distance, but the ten in the buildings are coming closer.” Despite his elderly appearance, Korn had extremely sharp eyesight and an incredible memory that matched with how well he was able to sense things. 

“...That’s good. Gin, Vodka, route three?” A quick grunt from Vodka did it all, and Sharon was certain that the scarily clean grin was now over Kirsche’s face. No matter how much the little kid stressed over things, when it was time to shine- he would pull it off. The adrenaline comes to him, boosting his steps and orders.

“Alright. Settle to the position that I said earlier. You prepared the baking soda, nitric acid, sulfuric acid and cotton pad, right?” Sharon wondered what it was for, but didn’t ask. She trusted Kirsche. No need to doubt it all now. When Gin gave the affirmative, Kirsche grinned- or at least, Sharon imagined that he did.

“Did they suspect?”

“...No.”

Silence echoed, and for a second Sharon was afraid that something happened to their control center. But his voice came back quickly. 

“Aha. ...That’s how it is going to be. Alright, this might actually go smoother than I thought… Chianti, Korn, Kir, all of you head to the center ploy. Rye, move to the second position. Are you close to the destination, Vermouth and Scotch?” 

“Yes,” It was Scotch that answered instead of Sharon, and she was glad. The actress was focused in her own world. Too busy on everything that’s going on- she didn’t want to talk. “Okay. In approximately three minutes one of the enemies will definitely light something up into the air. When that happens, Vermouth throw that and Chianti and Korn, put it on immediately. For the last moment… well.” For the first time since the operation began, Sharon heard some uncertainties in Kirsche- Fubuki’s voice. “Rye, it’ll be all you. I trust that you’ll do what I discussed earlier, right…?”

“...Of course… Are the agents dead?” Slowly, Rye’s deep voice rang out through all of their ears and it was such a stark contrast to Kirsche’s soft, kidly voice that it made Sharon shudder. It was the first time that he spoke in a complete sentence since it all began.

Kirsche sounded like he was smiling. “No. Chianti’s really amazing… she managed to hit exactly where I wanted without her ever actually seeing the target.” He laughed, and Sharon did too, hearing such a lighthearted noise in a dark time, but the good mood was ruined as she heard Chianti’s lowly voice.

“Hmm? You wanna go into just how amazing I am, boya? ” She gave a hearty chuckle, and for once Sharon admired her and her tenaciously aggressive personality. Chianti could still laugh, in light of her dire situation- she could be dead the next second, if the boya she was talking about had calculated even one step wrong.

“Of course- I mean, it’s kind of unbelievable, really. You couldn’t even see the small ship, and yet you managed to hit exactly right to the chest of the guy on the left. Of course, it’s to be expected since they were FBI, that they wouldn’t be hit. Then you aimed exactly at the guy’s shoes, and he toppled over, and when the second guy was trying to realize what was happening, you shot at his shoes too. They both fell over on the ground and then Kir gave them one big smoke grenade. Of course, Rye’s really amazing too… he hit the control tank and the ship sank, but they shouldn’t be dead. It’s just that all of their equipment is electrical, confirmed by Korn, and it shouldn’t work anymore.”

“...I see.” Rye said curtly, while Chianti laughed delightfully, and Sharon swore she heard even Gin snort in the back. It was pretty amusing.

“...Alright, the three minutes are almost up- Gin, Vodka, is it ready?” Something seemed to be relieved in him when they confirmed their preparedness. “This is good. Rye, in position?” Rye gave a thumbs-up, too.

A single flash in the air caused them all to still, and Sharon realized it was exactly what Kirsche had predicted. She willed her motorbike faster, letting the dirt fly into the air behind her as she reached the docks on a cliff, the edge ready and ruthless and one false step, she’d be dead-

No time. The drawstring bag was of utmost importance, and she threw it as quickly as she could to Chianti, who caught it and took out the two packs, one for each of them. They tucked it in their eerily black jackets, and a single sound of smirking from Kirsche informed that the whole plan was set up, from the beginning.

“Gin! Vodka! Now!” In one moment, an explosion occurred- grey smoke casted itself across all fields, and when it parted, it revealed fire, actual, raging-hot fire sped up from nowhere and sparked like a torch had been thrown onto the woods. Flames like the tongue of the devil ate everything in its path and left only ashes. 

Like moths drawn to a flame, FBI agents flooded in, trying to cool down the fire to prevent it from spreading with the sand from the docked beach and one of them screamed , screamed for a person from the mountains to shoot, and out of the corner of her eye Sharon just barely saw the glimmer of metal before the sound of two other consecutive bullets was fired that dark night, underneath something as fake as the silver of the moon.

Small and unassuming and the bullets striked straight into both Chianti and Korn’s chests, right before a gasp of alarm went through the communicators. Blood sprayed out, red and hot and they both fell, their forms touching the wooden dock before Gin swore and Kir threw another bomb of smoke. 

When all the gas finally disappeared, the fire was all gone. Like magic, or like some mysterious force had swept it all away with the wind. All that remained… were the charred corpses of Chianti and Korn, laying dead with ashes over the wood of the docks.

They had failed. Chianti and Korn were dead.

..

.

...Or at least, that’s what must have gone through each FBI’s head at the moment, as Gin expressed hearty laughter, and Kir laid out a smile. They had all gathered, back inside Gin and Vodka’s massive, dark car and sat tiredly among the seats. 

“I can’t believe that worked! Oh my lord, those FBI rats look so happy! ” Chianti laughed, direly, his eyes weary with work but still a genuine laugh nonetheless. “Nice shot, Rye!”

It was rare for Chianti to compliment anyone, and it seemed Rye had picked up on this too because he nodded, giving off a grim smile. “Still, that was one working of a plan, concocted by our young member over there…”

“No, it’s thanks to all of you.” Fubuki’s youthful voice washed out all the worries Sharon had, and she wished she could take the kid into her arms and hug at that very moment- everything was fine. She never thought his predictions would go so far, would be so correct, and would work so well against a group supposedly as well-working as the FBI. “It’s not gonna last for long, though, so I figure we have a good ten minutes before they realize the corpse were fake.”

“Care to explain the trick, bozu? ” Kir asked, tapping. That’s right , Sharon reminded herself- Kir never knew the whole plan. Only a handful of people did, that being Sharon, Gin, Rye, and Fubuki himself. Chianti and Korn didn’t even know everything themselves, in case they were bugged and things were going wrong. 

On the bug, Sharon could hear Fubuki smiling. “Of course.”

“I already explained how the ship sank, but I figured they would try to signal to their comrades as soon as they could see Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama on the docks, so that manual flash was them. Beforehand, I asked Gin-nii-sama and Vodka-nii-sama to prepare everything required to make flash paper. But it would be a special kind of flash paper, because they couldn’t exactly walk into a convenience store to buy some, and this kind works better anyways. If you only thinly coat the cotton with the acidic mixture between baking soda, nitric acid, and sulfuric acid, then the flash paper lasts quite a bit longer.

“Then, the flash happened and Gin-nii-sama and Vodka-nii-sama threw the paper and activated it with a match, and the paper lit up into flames. That’s when Vermouth-nee-sama threw the bag with fake blood packs at them, and then a sniper was supposed to kill them. But I already told them where the bullet would be coming from beforehand and they put their gun into that particular place, then Rye-nii-sama shot the blood pack, and it seemed exactly like Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama had died!

“Then, another smoke grenade was put out by Kir-nee-sama, and… to those two members that died… an apology towards them, but they were dressed up like them and had a shot through the heart, and I figured they were buried there at the docks because Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama were wet. They were replaced as Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama’s corpses, and the fire burned their features to ashes so they wouldn’t be able to tell until they checked the heights… which are completely different. I figure we have time before then, so-”

He cut off suddenly, Sharon smirked. 

“Nicely done, Fubuki.”

Silence from the other line. Then;

“SHAR-”

Sharon looked at Gin, then at Kir and Chianti to see if they heard anything. Nothing. And a dark feeling approached Sharon, and she felt like something was terribly, terribly wrong.

No. Was there an actual loophole to their plan? Where? It was all executed perfectly, so what happened? “The brat?” Gin asked, and it snapped Sharon out of her deathly thoughts. She had to contain rational behavior and know where the kid was. Cool-headed Sharon was the logical Sharon that was able to keep up the name Vermouth.

Her mind went through an adventure, hopping from each clue to another- grasping for something, anything that could contain the truth. And one quote that Fubuki himself had copied from Sherlock Holmes echoed in her mind emptily; “ When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

...

“No way,” She gasped sharply as her mind reached the answer, and she held onto the strand with bulging, large eyes. “No. It can’t be- I- Alright, I see. Was this what Yukiko was planning, this entire time?”

“Hmm?” Rye asked, putting a hand onto Scotch’s shoulder. “What is it, Vermouth?”

“...They didn't just have one objective- Fubuki was right.” She covered her mouth and Sharon’s face paled, now from sickly pale to completely drained of all color. “They had another. They- they kidnapped Fubuki, didn’t they?”

Alarm paused the entire care, and suddenly the bright atmosphere turned dim and everything seemed hostile. Sharon bit her lips. Was this it? Was this the one piece of the puzzle she should have seen coming, but hadn’t!?

“Who?” Gin asked.

“...It’s the Kudous. I believe… That woman, Yukiko Kudou, has taken Fubuki.” She gulped. Somehow, she knew she was right, and it struck such a cold feeling into her heart. Did she let that happen? How in the world did she not see it coming? “I-”

“.. .Vermouth .”

She froze, slowly tilting her head up at the voice, where Gin was holding up a single phone with a killing smirk over his face.

...Explain.”

 

======

 

He didn’t know where he was.

Groggily, and as far as he could tell, it was someone with light, but he had something over his eyes and an uncomfortable hood over his bodice, clinging onto his stomach. Two people were talking, presumably one male and one female, both of them chatting so sweetly when he was lying down somewhere in an unknown place. The heavy smell of classic literature washed over his nose, and he sneezed lightly, wanting to stretch.

Where was he…?

He poked around. Something soft was tucked over and underneath him, so he was probably lying down on a bed, next to a pair of husband and wife who were sitting at a table. By how carefree they were, it was almost like they were waiting for him to wake.

“Oh, he’s up!” A cheery female voice called, confirming his thoughts,, and whatever was over his face was removed, and a golden light shone into his eyes. “Woah, he really is pretty!” She laughed, and it made his heart flutter at the praise. He didn’t understand why, but knew as some rule in his heart that he didn’t need to understand unnecessary feelings. He was supposed to follow orders at all costs, and be a perfect, obedient… “Hi! I’m Yukiko!”

He realized that thinking wasn’t the equivalent of talking, and that they couldn’t hear what he was thinking in the empty space known as his head. What was he doing? Something felt off, and he poked around, flying in a dark landscape in the land of his mind. He tried using his voice, but it felt hoarse and chapped. It came out more raspy than he would have liked. “Yu-ki...ko…?” 

Was that correct? Did he do well, and talk properly, and do exactly what he was told at the best a human could possibly do it? A tremble went throughout his body, and he shuddered. Wasn’t he supposed to add an honorific after calling a person’s name, to establish a friendly relationship and ensure that he would not… die? Who taught him that?

He blinked. What

His head felt black and white and blotchy, the smell of all the freshly printed pages soaring into his nose… Perhaps that was it’s intention, to woo him with that smell and render him unable to think. No, that would not be the case. He would think. Truthfully, he didn’t know if the pretty lady and the handsome man were bad guys or not, but they certainly didn’t seem to hold any malice towards him...

... “Hahah! Fu…-kun, you sure are stubborn, aren’t you?” someone’s, whose, whose, voice called, laughing heartily underneath the sun. “But you know, that’s part of why I like you so much.”

...Who was that? It seemed like an old, foggy memory, with the face of someone scratched out. He blinked, sapphire eyes sparkling, and long lashes battering as he rubbed at his eyes. Was he hallucinating, or dreaming? But if he was dreaming, then he wouldn’t be able to think so clearly… it always felt hard to deduce things when you were in a dream. Something was wrong.

His memory. It was all scrambled, no, missing from his brain. He didn’t know what he was doing. Angry, he blinked again, but kept a calm tone. “Mister and miss…” he spoke quietly, deciding to speak to the first resource he had available, and something in him told him not to speak loudly. “...Do you happen to know who I am..?”

This seemed to be unexpected for the two of them, but the woman smiled brightly and patted him on the head before exchanging someone of a dark look with the other man. He blinked. What did it all mean? Some things weren’t going to be resolved by secretive nods.

“You forgot…?” The woman, Yukiko, asked, eyes watering immediately and he was shocked by it, stumbling back. “...I guess it’s to be expected… you did have an accident, after all…” She cried, and even the stern-looking man behind gave off a sorrowful aura. 

“I guess I’ll introduce us again… I’m Yukiko, an actor, and your mother, and this is Yuusaku, a writer and the cleverest man ever, your father!” She laughed childishly, unfit for her clear age. “And you? You’re our son!”

“Your son…?”

 

“Yup! Shinichi! Kudou Shinichi!”

Chapter 2: I

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter One

 

“...And at that time, the only person who could walk through the house without causing any suspicions… Yes. The culprit… can only be you! Yamazaki-shi’s best friend and the master of this house, Sewa Takanori-san !”

The single lone finger, pointing long and hard at the old man after a lengthy yet terribly eye-opening explanation sealed the wheelchaired man’s fate. For a minute, the grandiose room was silent, enough so that just the heavy breathing of the man in the middle could be heard as everyone around him grew restless with a mixture of shock and fear. Impressively, the old man recovered so fast that he immediately threw his head forward at the mere highschool boy standing in front of him, rebutting with a slightly pitched voice.

“S-stop joking!” Takanori gritted his teeth with large eyes and small pupils, a single bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face. “How do you think I could do it with this leg!?” He put a hand on the bandaged limb, staring the boy in the face. 

It was hard to rebuttal something of a statement like that, but instead of staring into the distance with a long look of thought on his face, the handsome features shifted from a glare to a knowing smirk. “You are already exposed!” He turned, grabbing the world globe from behind him, and threw it with all his strength at the old man whose face morphed into one of pure terror before diving down, off of the wheelchair in order to avoid being hit straight on the face.

Slowly, Takanori stood up straight and as tall as he could be, before gritting out; “What are you doing, you!?” The man’s voice deepened, shifting from fear to straight and bloody fury. What he didn’t realize was the looks of anguish and surprise spinning around him, until a trembling man wearing an identical purple suit spoke out, shivering.

“...Dad!” and following was the honey-touched voice of a pretty maid, eyes wide and in surprise, calling out for the master. Last was the biting voice of the old man’s own wife, still young and beautiful and whose eyes were the largest of all. “D-darling… your leg…!”

It was like thunder struck him, and that was when at last old man Takanori realized his own mistake and glanced down at his leg, irises shaking in terror. Slowly, he reached down and then stood back up, still trembling, before shakily moving his eyes up to meet the high school boy’s blue hues straight in the eyes. 

Like looking into an endless pit, the old man flinched before immediately rushing to the door, tossing his own wife out of the way as a means of escape- but to no avail. “You won’t get away!” The brat yelled lightly, grabbing the same globe and twisting into a perfect soccer kick, landing straight on the back of the old man’s bald head, and he fell over. What rang out last wasn’t the collective gasp of surprise, but the boy’s voice, ringing out through the room: “ Goal!”

Moments later, the officers from the police poured in and had brought a metal handcuff and shackled it to old man Takanori’s wrists, bringing him away, head down in furious shame. The inspector at the scene, Meguri, laughed joyously as he patted the boy on the back. “My, we had to borrow your ability once again!”

The boy turned, handsome features meeting with the inspector’s round ones, and a confident smile was on the former’s face. He glanced down, to the red carpet lying on the floor, and let a small smirk take over. 

“No, no.” He said, before staring right into the face of the inspectors, eyes almost glowing underneath the chadelier’s golden light. His features were perfect and beautiful and serene, pointing his thumb at himself with a sanguine beam.

“If you encounter a hard case again, just call Kudou Shinichi... the great detective !”

 

=

 

The two of them, sitting in the car, watched as Shinichi walked past them with Ran.

Yuusaku and Yukiko haven’t particularly been living in their house for some while- they are famous, known as the “world-class mystery novelist” and the “sweet enchanting actress”, or the most legendary couple that has seen the ground for some time. That meant they traveled from place to place, not being able to stay home much- after all, they need to keep up public appearances. Still, that didn’t mean they tried to neglect their double duty as Shinichi’s parents- After all, what kind of people would they be if they didn’t protect their only son?

Yukiko remembered how concerned her husband was, when they found that Fubuki, no, Shinichi , had lost all of his memories. In turn, he was a clean slate. Yuusaku had been extremely suspicious, prying that if the kid was good enough to be brought into the organization with a code name, then surely he was cunning enough to pretend to have amnesia in order to gather information on them. At first, she had agreed with this thought.

However, after confirming with several professionals and doctors, Yuusaku’s handsome heart finally settled peacefully. They were both convinced thoroughly that Shinichi really did forget every drop of memory he used to possess, up until that moment. He never reacted to anything Yuusaku said, involving the organization, and only a look of confused curiosity crossed his face. It was really lucky too that Shinichi happened to look like Yuusaku and herself a lot- possessing the dark, straightened yet curly hair of Yuusaku and the sparkling blue eyes of Yukiko.

So what if they weren’t truly blood-related? To Yukiko, they were a real family. One that cared for each other as much as a real one does, because she always did think of Shinichi as her true son, after they had rescued him from the clutches of the organization.

The kid was sweet and sugary and ghastly quiet, barely registering the ability to talk to them for the first few days that they were together, but weeks later Shinichi was able to converse with whole and full sentences that eventually spiraled off into intelligent words that surely a kid his age shouldn’t know. Yuusaku was still somewhat suspicious at that point, but later Shinichi proved himself enough. Showed exactly how he could be useful to them.

It started off with his habit of reading dozens of mystery novels a week, flipping through pages at inhuman speeds, absorbing the information gleefully. Shinichi always seemed to have his nose buried in a book, taking in the fresh scent of the printed ink and letting his mind drift off, into the world of words and crimes that truly, Shinichi belonged.

Then he started to give out simple or complicated deductions that slowly convinced Yukiko that her son was a literal mind-reader. There was simply no reasonable explanation how Shinichi was able to use the fact that Yukiko had worn mascara that day to lunch that she was going on an airplane to the United States that night! Even the lengthy, intelligent explanations he gave never made full sense to the actress. 

Fondly, there was one memory in particular that had truly warmed her heart to the kid, wandering her heart and made her realize that Shinichi truly was just a young boy, being used by the organization like any other. It also made Yukiko realize exactly why Sharon was so obsessed with the kid, and how she seemed to glare daggers at the other when Yukiko gave a suggestive mention about how the organization wasn’t the right place for Shinichi.

 

It was when Shinichi was in his sixth year of elementary school, being eleven years of age. He came home with a touchy expression and a small pout that didn’t seem to want to leave his face.

At that point, Shinichi didn’t really warm up to Yuusaku nor Yukiko, and instead showed a cold demeanor that gave off the expression of a distant son. It was the first time that Yukiko had seen so much emotion on the young boy’s face since the day that they rescued him from the organization.

So, Yukiko was surprised as the kid tumbled into his favourite spot in the entire mansion: the library, where he read dozens of novels a week, his small and pale nose always buried in a page or another, with such annoyance and he clicked his tongue, seeing Yukiko and Yuusaku sitting around the wooden desk. “What’s wrong?” The actress asked, eyes wide.

“...Sonoko-chan volunteered me to play Ikkyu-san” He buried his face into his small hands, suddenly embarrassed and Yukiko stared while her husband laughed goodnaturedly. Suddenly, Yukiko felt a rush of excited fun through her veins and she popped up excitedly.

“You’re going to play Ikkyu-san in the following play?” She repeated, bubbly, and even Yuusaku had a sincere smile on his usually passive face as Shinichi gave them both such a flat look of irritation, blue eyes dimming to the color of lapis. He confirmed it grouchily. “That’s great, Shinichi. You’re the star.”

If anything, at Yuusaku’s praise, Shinichi’s eyes dimmed even more and he looked even more vexed that it made Yukiko’s heart warm, realizing that it was the first time that the kid showed anything more than a small puff of aggravation. That pout increased even farther and a small groan passed through his pale lips without anything held back. “Well, Yeah.”

They had then spent the few hours rehearsing, Yukiko getting every detail perfect and Yuusaku giving suggestive comments here and there, and more of Shinichi’s soft spoken yet easily irritated personality started to shine. Finally she understood that underneath a cool masked layer was the face of an adorable and sweetly innocent child who was living a normal life.

“Who cares what I say!? It’s just a play!” Shinichi had said as for the thousandth time, as Yukiko corrected the grip that he used to hold Ikkyu’s rope. The kid was stuttering through more than half of his lines, clearly nervous yet eyes determined with an increasingly annoyed light. 

In all honesty, Yukiko just enjoyed seeing Shinichi finally be what he was supposed to be: a cute kid who's playing a main character in the play, so she used the quickest excuse she knew. “No!” Shinichi winced at the sudden loud tone. “Are you trying to embarrass the great actress Fujimine Yukiko!?” She ruffled the kid’s hair affectionately.

“What?” Shinichi said, staring at his mother, which was the last complaint her could half before Yukiko and Yuusaku got him (with perfect consent) to practice the lines again and again for four more hours that night.

 

She sighed, remembering sweetly.

Shinichi then followed in his father’s footsteps; starting to solve crimes at lightspeed and deduce the trick required behind every murder. Yuusaku almost thought that their son’s previous memory was coming back, but Yukiko knew better- she could see the determined, pure soul inside Shinichi’s heart. It wasn’t for some terrible desire to see criminals falter in fear, or a lust for death, or anything that could excuse why an organization member solved crimes. It simply just was that he had a mind that exercised his only desire- to put an end to these unlawful acts just for the sake of justice. 

At this point, Yukiko could see how Yuusaku was slowly beginning to have unfounded worries once again. It wasn’t natural. An organization member should not be as angelic as their son seemed to appear. That was when another stressful worry appeared again- what if a member of the organization appeared at a crime and diverged Shinichi’s heartened path to darkness?

“What’s wrong?” Yuusaku asked, from behind her, and Yukiko suddenly realized that she was in their car, in disguise. It was a plan so she was ready to surprise Shinichi and congratulate him on solving his newest crime that had made all the news. 

Hopefully they don’t connect the dots between Shinichi and Fubuki. She thought lightly, blinking hazily. Knowing them, they probably did, but Yukiko could still hope.

Instead of reacting, she gave her husband a stunning smile. “Nothing~!” She laughed, but looked at her son sadly. bubbly as always, instead focusing her gaze to the high-school son who was currently chatting quite chirpily across from them. It was sweet. To think that Shinichi, kind and confident and sharp Shinichi, was actually his son.

Unbelievable. Except now, Shinichi was her son, not that man’s . She would protect him and make sure he never recovered those memories that connected him to the organization.

That was a mother’s duty, right?

In the end, Yukiko was aware that her mind was just full of contradicting thoughts, but that didn’t really matter. For her, all she wanted to do was protect the peace that they have, cut through the organization, and better yet- keep Shinichi safe and out of their wretched hands.

She didn’t let any of these thoughts come out of her mouth, instead choosing to keep them all within the boundary of her own head. “Aww,” Instead, she pouted, deciding to rip the layer of skin mask off of her face. “I spent a long time on this disguise, too, wanting to surprise dear Shin-chan...”  Yukiko smiled happily, letting warm thoughts run rampant in her head. “Shin-chan and Ran-chan seem to be getting along fine, though!”

“I’m glad.” Yuusaku has always been this way; short in words yet right to the point as he smiled goodnaturedly, in a warm stance which painted him as a heaven-touched father. “...But with how much Shinichi is making in the newspapers, I’m worried that…”

She flinched, recalling the topic which she was just trying to ignore, amber hair and blue eyes bouncing as she stepped back into her seat with as much of a smile as she could muster at that precise moment. 

“Shin-chan’s strong. I… I don’t think they’ll be able to take him, without special measures . They wouldn’t go that far for Shin-chan… right?

“...Of course.”

There was an unspoken agreement which settled at that moment, sitting only in silence in the car, broken only by the sound of birds chirping. Yuusaku started the engine abruptly and it roared before they went to the airplane station, Yukiko’s head on her husband’s shoulder.

 

==

 

Shinichi didn’t exactly know how he ended up in this predicament, but it just sort of happened.

Sitting at a cafe in Tropical Land with Ran was one thing. Being dragged to the roller coaster was a whole other thing, altogether! He wasn’t particularly afraid of heights, nor was he really afraid that the coaster would malfunction, but he didn’t like the feeling of losing control that riding the upheaval would give him as the bars settled over his shoulders.

But Ran seemed so excited for it that he couldn’t refuse as she brought him into a dark, supernatural-themed attraction, which surprised him. It hadn’t been long since they met that Shinichi realized that she was sorely afraid of ghosts of all kinds, and just the mention of a ghastly urban legend could send her into tears. Crybaby, he thought, affectionately, wrapping his fingers around her hand.

They had met a few days after Shinichi went to school again, when he was ten, after the unspeakable accident that rendered all memory gone. They had a sort of big-sister-little-brother relationship, so to speak, with Shinichi teasing Ran about her crying while the other patted him on the head whenever he was flustered or embarrassed about something or another. If Shinichi had a sibling, then he would say that there was no way that they could be as close as he was to Ran; both of them caring for each other in a way only blood siblings should.

So he didn’t deny Ran, and the martial-arts girl brought them into the line. In a dark and enclosed tunnel, with bare purple light, and the one in front had red hair and blue eyes, accompanied by a right-handed friend with freckles.

Oh, he thought. It's that girl. The one who is a gymnast… evidenced by the mark on her thigh. Shinichi gave off a small smirk, deciding to take his chances by teasing and showing off to Ran, and he took the opportunity to slip in the line, right next to Ran, and started to chat to her about his favourite conversational topic- the genius of Sherlock Holmes.

“..Speaking of the brilliance of Holmes! Did you know that when he and his assistant Watson first met, with only a single handshake, he knew that Watson had been a military doctor?” Shinichi took the lady’s hand into his own palm, aware that there was a smirk playing onto his face. “Like this. Miss, you are a well-practiced gymnast, are you not?”

Her stunned face was enough to evoke a reaction from Ran, who turned to Shinichi and shook his shoulders in a daze. “How’d you know…?” Mousily, the red-haired girl asked, and the highschool detective gave off a cheeky smile.

“It’s because of the blisters on her hand,” instead of talking to the girl, he turned to speak to Ran, who was slightly shaking. “When a woman has a lot of blisters on her hand, then she must have been constantly gripping metal bars or something similar.”

However, instead of eyes largening in surprise like normal, Ran’s eyes narrowed in subtle suspicion. “But… you’d get blisters when playing tennis, too!” She exclaimed, and Shinichi cursed that today was the day that his best friend decided to sharpen her mind.

Instead of showing that, he smiled sheepishly, blinking twice innocently with large, sapphire eyes. “Well, the truth is, a while ago, when the wind blew up her skirt, I accidentally saw it.” Eyes bright and sparkling, he was sure that Ran would tease him about this, or cry, or do something like a typical older sister that would warm his heart. “People who have to practice on parallel bars often have these particular bruises on their thighs!”

Half-like he expected, Ran gave off an impressed look with purple eyes closed, and Shinichi laughed heartily. “You already knew from the start! That’s just cheating!” She spoke with a small pout, and then stared at the detective annoyedly. “How long are you going to hold her hand!?”

“Oh-!” Shinichi exclaimed, realizing that his hand was still grasping around the gymnast's. He looked down, letting go with sudden notice, and brought his own up sheepishly. “Ah… right!” He laughed it off. But instead of the topic going past, another man’s face was brought close to Shinichi’s own, and he stepped back with a flinch. He was handsome, with dark hair and large eyes and tanned skin, wearing a pink polo and beige jacket in contrast with Shinichi’s green sweater and Ran’s blue coat. “Hey! You separated us from our friends!” He cried, and Shinichi took another step back.

The highschool detective looked between the two, and instead of reacting in fear he turned to stare the gymnast in the eye. “Are you friends?” He asked lightly. “If so, shall I give our places to you?” He had no need for lining up there anymore, and besides- he didn’t like roller coasters much anyways. It was for Ran that he was currently about to ride.

Instead of accepting like he’d hoped to prolong the time it took for the to take the attraction, the gymnast lady and her friend simply laughed nervously and waved Shinichi and Ran off. “We shouldn’t bother Aiko and Kishida-kun.”

So Shinichi turned, suddenly feeling weighed in his chest, and had a bad feeling that was realized as soon as his sapphire eyes landed on the sight of the man and the make-up heavy woman brushing lips against each other. 

His blue eyes widened, face immediately starting to heat up and he buried it into the palms of his hands. What the-! Shinichi thought, biting into his own pale lip, feeling the blush crawl back to the base of his neck, and it was almost like Ran could sense his turmoil because she took him by his sleeve and called out for his name. Her voice was enough to make him feel less flustered, and Shinichi recovered to his friend speaking out loud again.

“L-look, there’s a place in front!” she smiled, almost artificially, but Shinichi didn’t call her out for it. He knew that she was doing it to make him less confounded, and that she was just as bewildered herself- evidenced by the pink tinge that threatened to spill past the back of her neck. Ran dragged him to the front of the coaster and chose the seat second to the front.

When in doubt, talk about your favourite thing! That’s what Yukiko-kaasan always told him, when he first struggled to get companions at school. By then, the detective shook off the shock and continued to expand about his greatest hobby- Sherlock Holmes. “...T-then after, at that time, Holmes-!” Shinichi stopped as his eyes settled on a large, stocky man in black running to the very back of the coaster ( who wears sunglasses indoors?) , followed by a more slim man with long, silver hair. “Move it! Move it! We were here first!”

He was surprised. Shinichi didn’t expect that this full-grown man was so anxiously excited to go riding on an amusement park attraction.

Instead of letting the surprise show, he ignored it and the highschool detective pulled the safety guard over his neck, letting the dark plastic comfortably lock him in place- he felt slightly better, knowing that he was most likely safe during this uncontrollable ride. 

“Did you know? What Conan Doyle was going to say, the thing about Holmes-!”

“Can you give it a rest!?” Ran finally exploded and Shinichi had the sudden realization that she was actually annoyed the entire time as he was talking, but didn’t bother to stop him to calm Shinichi down from the sudden surprises. A single bead of sweat dropped down his face, and he smiled nervously. Ran was scary when she got mad, and the martial-arts expert always told Shinichi that he was insensitive, too-straightforward, and overall oblivious. “I don’t care about Holmes or Conan Doyle! You’re an annoying detective NERD!”

The emphasis on the last word made him start shaking in shock, and it stopped as Ran sighed, purple eyes closing behind long lashes. “...I was hoping for a day out with Shinichi…” She gulped. “Why don’t you understand my feelings…?”

Another brilliant blush covered the highschool detective’s usually pale face, and this time Shinichi understood that his features were probably more than just plain pink by now. How does he respond? He was looking forward to going to the amusement park with Ran, too, but he never was good at expressing his own feelings...

“R-Ran! This… uhm, the truth is- I-!”

He cut short as he realized that she was trembling, and at first Shinichi thought she was actually that angry at him for being self-centered (like he always is). But a small choked laughter escaped from her lips and he realized that she wasn’t furious- she was laughing!

Shinichi’s eyes widened as words slipped out of her mouth. “ Baka! What are you nervous about? You should know that I’m only pretending!” Another laugh came out. “If you fall for this so easily, how can you be a detective?”

He slumped down, holding both hands onto the safety rail as he realized that he just got played. Shinichi groaned, pouting lightly as he felt Ran’s well-practiced hands touch his head, ruffling those dark masses around playfully.

The coaster moved suddenly, but Shinichi was distracted enough that the difference in surroundings didn’t exactly bother him at first. Until he was on the very top, and the only way forward was downwards, did he finally realize that he was about to drop. “But…” Ran’s last words before the drop made him look freakishly next to him, where the highschooler was sitting, as a soft tone came out. “I wasn’t lying about the fact that I was looking forward to this…!” She smiled, and the last thing Shinichi noticed was the soft hand that moved to cover his own.

The coaster suddenly dipped and it was like his world was spinning, the wind against the air resistance blowing every thought out of Shinichi’s mind. Screaming, high-pitched screams of both joy and enjoyment surrounded him as the sensation made him close his eyes, wobbling and looping over and over, before heading into a pitch-dark tunnel of scary monsters and ghosts that passed right over their heads.

Only when a droplet of something landed on his face, did he realize that something was up. Shinichi’s wiped mind went straight into suspicion as he took whatever substance was on his face- probably water, based on how clear it looked- and licked at it. Sho-pai…. It's... salty?

No… something was wrong. There was a sound behind him, something that was heard like a fountain of water pooling into the sky, and he turned, sapphire eyes immediately losing all light as the corpse still sitting in the coaster registered plainly in his mind.

A dead, unmoving body. Skin still rosy and flesh. Clothes flapping in the wind, as if nothing was wrong- except for the head that once was there now gone from the neck. A clean cut, blood gushing out and spraying all over the place, skin removed exactly where it was needed to remove the head and snap the bones in nothing but a single heartbeat.

Someone was dead. And Shinichi knew- the killer was among them.

 

The ambulance and police came quickly enough by the shouts and screams of visitors to the attraction, and the sirens silencing any and all doubts by some and others. But Shinichi didn’t pay attention to that- he had to stay calm in order to solve this crime- and he always felt like a boost of confidence and adrenaline went through himself whenever a case appeared.

There were seven people currently standing at the scene of crime, excluding the security, the coaster manager, and the audience surrounding, wanting to get a look at something horrendous. The gymnast from earlier and her friend, along with the victim’s supposed girlfriend, were all either crying or shaking from fear. Ran was with him, shocked at such a gorey death, and the two men in black- were they purposely trying to be suspicious?- had an aura of eerie calm that said that they could not care less about the situation.

A trail of blood, dark and red and still damp, followed the dragging of the body as the sound of tears crawled and echoed through the now lit-up attraction station, and the wallows tugged at his heartstrings as Shinichi placed a white cloth over the dead man’s face. A sign of respect, hoping for a peaceful moving to the afterlife.

He stood up, blue eyes furrowed in thought as the high-school detective’s mind soared through the possibilities. From his side, he heard a question on exactly why the victim- presumed to be Kishida- was murdered to begin with, and he knew that it might be the key question to solve this case. Already, Shinichi had half an idea of who did it, but to confirm it he needed to explore the thought more. Was it actually possible? To be so precise with the way of killing? 

He never was able to sympathize with people who killed- or people who drove others to murder or suicide. He didn’t understand what in the world could possibly be so awful to end another’s life. Ran tugged at his jacket sleeve, but that barely registered in his mind as thoughts continued to trail one after another, linking up to form some kind of answer nicely. The trick required to pull off this crime… it wouldn’t be something anyone ordinary could do, for sure.

One of the men in black, the lean one, with long, silver hair, tipped back his ebony hat and a deep voice slipped from his throat. Was he… snorting? “Unlucky bastard,” the man said, and turned away, while the stocky man with sunglasses insisted that they would leave. “Anyway, it was an accident. Excuse us.”

Shinichi couldn’t let them go, not that easily. “Wait,” he said, and they stopped, looking back at him. “This was not an accident… This… is a murder.” He let the words drop onto the board, and Shinichi was already sure that those two in black already knew from the start that there was no way that such a clean death could be anything but a murder.

The highschool detective felt the air in the room go tense, everyone flinching lightly at his words as Shinichi’s determination solidified. “And the criminal… Was riding in the same coaster as the victim… And… is now one of us seven!”

“Shinichi…!” Ran called, as if in disbelief that someone out of them could possibly be the one to slice off the head of the victim. The stocky man paused for a second, before ‘tch’ing and turning away from the scene in an obliged way. “We’re getting out of here!”

However, before they could do so, the confident and familiar voice of Inspector Megure called out through the crowd and Shinichi smiled. The police was always a force he could depend on to assist him with his final deduction that would end all the confusion. 

“Sorry! Let me through, I apologize!” Everyone’s attention was drawn to the source of the voice, a subtle smirk now settling over the highschool detective’s face as a tall man dressed in green brought the inspector, who pulled at his glove and was ready to be on duty, before his face lit up at the sight of Shinichi. “Ohh, Kudou-kun!” He called, and reached out to the other person who had an arm around Shinichi’s own. “And Ran-kun’s here, too?”

“Ahh, Megure-keibu!” He called back, and a friendly smile was on the inspector’s face. Shinichi was suddenly aware of someone staring at him, but he didn’t dare turn. The sense of danger that crawled up on him couldn’t be anything worth noting… right?

“Ohh, he’s that famous highschool detective, Kudou Shinichi!” Someone from the crowd said, and he relaxed. “The one who solved all those impossible cases, one by one… the savior of the Japanese police!” A girl pulled to the front without warning, bringing her friend with her. “Hey, come here! It's Kudou-kun! Kudou-kun! Let us see your skill!”

With all of the attention abruptly, Shinichi could only laugh nervously as he felt Ran’s grip on his sleeve tighten as she breathed out, “Geez…”

 

The murder was solved quickly enough, the key being those undoubtedly major evidence of the necklace over the gymnast’s neck gone and those traces of dry tears across her cheeks. The adrenaline he felt disappeared, evaporated, almost, as Ran cried and clinged to his sleeve.

Shinichi's deduction was spot-on, and as he had expected- the murderer was the gymnast, using her excellent sense of balance and combining it with the roaring engines of the roller coaster. A metal hook, attached to a looped wire, tossed across to the victim’s head and a single pull from the coaster was enough to assure that the victim would die gruesomely.

They were walking now that the murder was finished, and Shinichi could not but feel embarrassed when Ran accused him of not having a heart. Of course he did! He just never was able to sympathize with people who chose to murder, and there still was a shadow of anxiety left in his chest. Like something was going to go wrong, tonight.

But he spotted someone- one of those men in black, so anxious to get away from the scene of the crime that it left him suspicious. That they were doing something unlawful, and were actually criminals that so happened to be at the scene of crime- and that suitcase in the sunglasses man’s hands could not be a good sign.

The detective followed, after telling Ran to stay put- and he could just feel Ran’s hands reach out and touch the very back of his jacket before he ran off, gone. Sorry, Ran, inwardly he apologized. I don’t want you in danger.

He followed until he was behind the building, and crawling behind the walls he saw the most suspicious deal he had ever seen- the sunglasses man offering something to a man who brought out a whole bag of cash money, and Shinichi sensed that something was terribly wrong.

Where… where’s his partner?

The slight gust of wind was enough to answer that question and Shinichi fell back, using his years of experience in dodging Ran to avoid the strikes with the metal backs- but not even he could expect that the silver-haired man would suddenly let go of the bat when swinging, and the metal clashed horribly with Shinichi’s face, sending him back into the blades of grass.

“Hah… still such a troublesome brat, aren’t you? ...Even after so long.” By then, his mind was fuzzy, but Shinichi was fairly certain that he had never met this man in his life. Who? What do you mean, “even after so long”..? 

Questions that he wanted to ask, even though he couldn’t dare speak, slipped out as huffs of bated breath and Shinichi felt his mind go hazy.

But he couldn’t give up here. The highschool detective still stood up, though his vision was cloudy at best. “...Don’t try… to…” all he could talk were pathetic and unconnected fragments that didn’t particularly make sense. “Just… stay… hah… away…”

A cruel and cold smile split across the silver-haired man’s face, and Shinichi felt something akin to true, unadulterated fear as it split across his neck like thunder. The skinny man in black merely ‘tch’ed, suddenly carefully caressing Shinichi’s face as something slipped out of his hand. It was a pill of some kind, and the detective barely flinched as it was pushed inside his mouth without water. “...Let’s test this pill out… Sherry says that one dose shouldn’t be enough to kill him. Just bring him to the verge of death, to make him lose consciousness and make sure he isn’t a bother.”

Shinichi’s mind didn’t register any of this, and he could swear that his bones were melting as that medicine dropped down past his throat, and he felt his consciousness fade out into nothing but the deep, dark abyss.

 

When he woke up… something was wrong. The clothes that fit perfectly along the creases of his body suddenly felt too large and heavy, and Shinichi could swear that his limbs felt thinner and less sturdy than normal. Gone were the two men in black, and Shinichi looked down- eyes widening as they met with small, frail hands too pale for normal.

“Kid? Why’re you here?” Two policemen came and shone their flashlights on him, and Shinichi flinched. 

Kid? He was a highschool student, for justice’s sake! Wobbling, he grasped up and when he was standing, he realized that something wasn’t quite right.

“...!?”

 

===

 

It was strange, no, he was strange. All three of them agreed; Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta, the clear shining stars of Class 1-B; that the new transfer student was less than usual. 

To begin with, his name was clearly that of a foreigner’s, not possessing a Japanese title but a name like “Edogawa Conan”. The next suspicious thing was that the new kid was handsome for his age, like someone they’d see from a magazine, or something, with large blue eyes that reflected even Genta’s face in full. He was lean, not tall, petite with thin limbs, and had soft features. Ayumi had stated that she was sure she’d see the boy’s face from somewhere, but couldn’t recall from what, which was strange enough. The third and most suspicious of all was his personality. Bored, yet always at the top of the class (for the few tests they had in addition and such), always alone yet eager to help others. He was an interesting contradiction and the three of them were curious.

And so! Today was the day that the three of them- again, Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta, were going to befriend the new kid. And they were going to be the first to do so!

“Watcha doin’?” Genta asked in determination, putting his face next to Conan’s, who was startled and looked at the three of them- all restless, putting their hands behind their backs- and his face changed from innocent surprise to a sheepish laughter.

Ayumi frowned, and so did Mitsuhiko. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“...Just thinking.” Conan replied, large eyes closing beneath a pair of large glasses that framed his face. Ayumi couldn’t help but stare into those pools of sapphires, and she barely felt Mitsuhiko poke into her arm. Right! She had to concentrate, for the sake of all of them!

Genta put his face into the new kid’s own. “About what?” He asked, and the ten-year-old bald spot might have actually worked in their favor to intimidate Conan because he flinched backwards, shedding away from the contact.

“It’s nothing.” This was why Conan had no friends. He was quiet, and when he did have a conversation, he shut it down in a moment as if wanting to avoid too much talking! Well, that’s fine. Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta exchanged a knowing look. If Conan didn’t want to talk- they always had a Plan B!

Ayumi put an outstretched hand in front of Conan, who looked at it distantly, and eyes flickered once to signal that he was curious. Mitsuhiko smiled, and then it was action time.

“Edogawa Conan!” Ayumi exclaimed, all three watching how Conan’s head immediately snapped up at the sound of his name. “Join us,” Mitsuhiko continued, before it was Genta’s turn. “In the Detective Boys club!”

“...Hah?”

“Well? Agree?” Mitsuhiko pressed.

“...Uh-!”

With extended arms, they were all aware that the class had gone silent from its previous chatting, the entire class now focused on the single decision that the new transfer student of Class 1-B would make. The three of them gave Conan puppy eyes, large and unassuming, and a small drop of sweat on the side of their cheeks fell down their faces. It was such a gesture that they figured that even the coldhearted Edogawa Conan couldn’t possibly refuse.

As expected, Conan sighed, closing his eyes behind long lashes. “...Fine,” It was more of a hushed whisper than an actual statement. But it made their eyes sparkle and glow nonetheless, and the look in Conan’s eyes was nothing less of total exasperation.

“....I’ll join your Detective Boys.”

 

====

 

Heiji Hattori, son of the police chief Heizo Hattori, was reading an article in a newspaper.

Forgive him, he meant investigating a potential rival or enemy. Kudou Shinichi was long since known as the savior of the Japanese police, the Heisei Holmes, the Great Detective of the East. Well, and so? Heiji happened to be the Great Detective of the West, and he wouldn’t back down to one Kudou Shinichi.

It had been several months since the latest article on that detective, but Heiji assumed that it was because the newspapers encrypting “Kudou, handsome meitantei of the west, did it again” titles were just on the way. After all, between the two of them, Heiji knew he was a sharp detective, and was determined to prove exactly how much better as a detective he was.

The pictures of Kudou were always pretty, but Heiji was sure that it was simply an exaggeration. Surely nobody could have such model features as a highschool boy, much less a highschool detective? Sure, Heiji had heard that the detective’s mother was a famous actress known for her otherworldly beauty, but there was just no way a guy could look like that.

Originally, Kazuha had opposed the idea of leaving Osaka for Tokyo, but Heiji wasn’t the type to listen and hopped on a bullet train which the destination was the latter. He even went so far as to bring a bottle of ancient wine! Heiji was a kind man, and after he showed Kudou exactly how superior he was at deducing, he would graciously accept Kudou’s request to become his apprentice. Out of his full generosity and amazing heart, of course. (Not because of another reason, no.)

The building that he arrived at seemed to be the Kudou’s house, but it was empty- which was to be half-expected, as that detective was the son of a world-class actress and an equally famous mystery novelist, so they did have to travel frequently, he gathered. What concerned Heiji was the fact that instead of looking slightly unused, the mansion seemed terribly deserted. As if not a person lived here, to begin with.

He hummed, pressing on the doorbell, and there was no answer before he was agitated and spam clicked the button ten times. The man next door, a fat and overweight inventor that had an unbelievably large mustache, was going to be his best source of information as neighbours to Kudou Shinichi.

“Shinichi-kun?” That inventor said, and immediately Heiji knew he hit the jackpot if that fat man was on first-name basis with the highschool detective next door. “Well, he left a while ago, on a case… If you desperately need to contact him, uhm, I suggest visiting the Mouri Detective Agency and-!”

But Heiji didn’t stay around to hear the rest. Finally, finally, finally he got a lead! Why was tracking down this one Kudou Shinichi so harsh? Was he intentionally trying to hide, or something suspicious? The case that this highschool detective was working on seemed suspicious, too. The old man was probably hiding something.

It turned out, the Mouri Detective Agency was a building on top of a cafe called Poirot, and he climbed the stairs to the room. If Kudou Shinichi was here, then this trip would finally be worth it! He needed to see for himself, the highschool detective of the east’s face and test out that deduction ability of his before Heiji crushed him entirely.

He clashed the door open, expecting to see some trace of a tall highschool boy with handsome features and bedazzled hair, but there was nothing but an old man reading newspapers, a young highschool girl staring in surprise, and a little boy that eerily reminded Heiji of a certain somebody. “Oi, is Kudou ‘ere?” He called.

Was it just him, or did the kid flinch?

“Shinichi…?” The girl asked, softly, and Heiji was reminded of Kazuha- except a Kazuha with purple eyes and definitely more passive, and less rude. And again! Was this a place where Kudou was here, or not? But there was another person who seemed to be on first-name basis with the detective, too, and this time even without the formalities of “-kun”. “Are you looking for him? Is he back?”

Oh, that was interesting. So Kudou disappeared from here, as well, and carefully Heiji stored that thought into his mind as he decided to boisterize his claim. “I, Hattori Heiji, the great detective of the west, ‘m ‘ere to challenge Kudou Shinichi to a deduction battle between’us! The high school detectives of the east and west!” He announced proudly.

A small cough came from the side and that kid from earlier was staring at Heiji with a strangely annoyed set of perfect, sapphire eyes hidden behind glasses. The hairstyle and handsome features, even on a kid, reminded Heiji of a certain someone. He couldn’t put a finger on it, though, and instead just pretended that the thought never crossed his mind at all.

He set the wine on the table, laughing. “Do ya have a cold, kid?” Gently, he asked, placing a hand onto the kid’s head and ruffled those dark, chocolatey locks. “Well, I’ave some great medicine for ya!”

Won’t it be fun to feed him some of that wine? Well, no, it was just a joke-

The kid drank it down innocently as Heiji passed him the cup, and he almost regretted it as those large eyes blinked at Heiji drowsily. He didn’t expect that the kid would actually drink it down- it was a joke! A joke! Mistily, the kid muttered something before collapsing.

“Conan-kun!” the girl said, cradling the kid’s fragile limbs in her hands, and Heiji could not help but stare at those easily breakable wrists and joints, and those sharp, shining eyes which hid behind those glasses and misted lashes. He’s hiding something.

Drowsily, the boy- Conan- slurred out incomprehensible words before lying down, pointing. Heiji’s attention was drawn to the other man’s surprise, realizing his phone was ringing silently and he picked up.

“A case!?” He exclaimed, and Heiji’s features tightened.

“C’mon, Ran! Let’s go.” The old man said, and Heiji was inclined to follow before he felt a small tug on his sleeve. 

It was the little kid, grasping at his clothes with thin hands, looking at him with a desperately hopeful expression, sapphire eyes wise. Conan sat up. “Ne, nii-chan…” the kid’s small voice rasped out, like he was grasping at straws. “Can you… help me... bring me, too? I want to… help… Ran-nee-chan… with the… case…”

Inwardly, Heiji’s eyebrow was raised. What was with this kid? Surely he didn’t expect Heiji to actually bring him along, right? And how could a mere elementary student, by his thin frame and small stature, help with a case ? But the detective of the west was never good at going against the puppy eyes that the kid was undeniably showing, and the Osakan sighed, picking up the kid by the collar of his jacket as Heiji was escorted into the Mouri’s car.

It seemed like the middle-aged man with the purple suit didn’t expect Heiji to invite himself in, because his eyes bugged as that man saw him once they had reached the supposed crime scene. But that man just scolded him and didn’t do anything about it. Like he was used to people coming with him to crime scenes uninvited, or something.

Then they walked into the study, and an ear-splitting scream echoed throughout the room as Heiji rushed to the scene. A man was laying on the chair in a central desk, music playing in the background of books. There was no blood, but the color- or lack thereof- in his face seemed telling enough that something tragic had happened.

Eyes wide, Heiji watched as the presumed wife rushed over to the seemingless breathless body, shaking it, and Heiji carefully walked over, touching where the pulse should be. Only silence met his fingertips where a light beat should zap through, and his breath hitched- was it a mixture? Or just simple sadness, or excitement, or something that he couldn’t quite discern? 

“He’s… dead…” The Osakan whispered, tilting his hat down to honor the now-unbreathing man. Listening to the gasps surrounding him didn’t help with his heart- but it raced at the thought of being able to challenge the so-called “savior of the Japanese police”. He knew it was wrong; he shouldn’t feel this way, but he did- any and all sadness evaporated on the spot as he began to wander around, calling on whoever was there. 

“Well? Whatcha waitin’ for? Call the police!” He snapped, clicking a finger on the table, and some woman in her forties or so immediately grasped for a phone and tapped the number for emergency on it.

An inspector that Heiji vaguely recognized from some photos with his father came to the scene minutes later, and strangely enough the old man, the girl and the kid all seem to know that policeman very well. “Mouri-kun? Ran-kun and Conan-kun are here, too? ...Ah, Conan-kun doesn’t look very well.” He stared at the kid who looked frailer by the second.

“..’Ts fine.” The boy said, rubbing at his nose. “‘Ts just a cold, or something.”

That inspector raised an eyebrow. “Well, Mouri-kun, you should bring him back later.” He tickled the kid who merely sniffled and ran to hold onto the highschool girl’s legging. Sighing, the girl picked up the kid, who dropped himself out of the hold and a change of attitude was in store. Suddenly, his personality came from serious but sleepy to that of an ordinary elementary kid as he whined.

“Ran-nee-chan!” Conan complained, large eyes growing bigger by the second. “Give me a few minutes, okay? Kogoro-ojii-san probably needs me for later, and all-!” Now that was interesting. By now even an amateur detective could deduce that the “Kogoro” or “Mouri” was the detective mentioned for the “Mouri Detective Agency”, but a grown man needing a kid for a deduction? That was funny enough. The Mouri man wasn’t likely to be a sharp inquiser if he had to depend on a kid.

The Ran girl sighed. “Alright, Conan-kun, but if it gets any worse then-!” The kid immediately ran off, and a groan came out. “Geez. Why does he always do that...?”

This piqued Heiji’s interest, but instead of dwelling on it he chose to investigate the room. The books were all neat and tidy, illuminated by a single lamp in the room, and a music player on one shelf that towered using books. 

The main object of his focus, however, was the wooden desk in the middle, and the chair that the victim had died on. At first glance, everything looked fine- nothing unusual or out of place, the only thing worth noting was the ink spilling out of the pot. 

Heiji touched the victim’s pockets. 

Keys. It was a locked room murder, which he had expected, but it was now Heiji’s turn to step up. A ploy has already started to take shape within the landscape of his mind- the answer right on the horizon line.

He crawled underneath the desk- and a feline grin crossed his face as the evidence he needed to confirm his suspicions was the long wound of string, lying just beneath the wood. The Osakan’s head suddenly clashed- with something equally hard, and his eyes widened to see the sick kid be investigating exactly where he was. ...This kid...?

“Ouch!” Conan cried, touching his own forehead. “That hurt! Nii-chan….” 

Suddenly, something seemed to happen within the kid because his blue-clad eyes enlarged and quickly he scrambled out of the room in huffed breaths, that girl chasing after him with pants in her voice. “Conan-kun!” She cried, but there was no response.

But the great high school detective of the west paid it less than no mind, because everything needed was in place- as Heiji stood up, green eyes closed, before the small smile on his face changed into a whole smirk. Kudou.

Aren’t you going to show up? Prove me wrong? Show me that you’re as worthy a detective as they all say you are?

If not… then I’ll be taking the win.

Clicking his tongue, Heiji began his deduction.



“...So there’s only one person left. That person came after two o’ clock and was watching television in the living room, next to the study. Old man… you’re that person!”

Coolly, Heiji wrapped up the crime, staring daggers with green eyes at the grey-haired elder who was now glaring at the ground, eyes wide and fear evident in those dully silver orbs. His eyebrows were furrowed, skin now too pale, and a bead of sweat dripping along the side of his cheek. His hands were behind his back as that old man was shaking. Slowly, he calmed down and the next words to slip out of his mouth were the most satisfying ones Heiji had ever heard.

“...You’re right. It was me.” 

A smirk enveloped Heiji’s face again, and the confirmation was set. A shadow in his heart whispered against his soul as something akin to both satisfaction and dissatisfaction hovered above his chest, but the only true emotion he could admit to himself was the light of victory. I’ve won!

“The person who killed my son, Isao… was me.

 

“No, that’s wrong.”

 

“...”

“!!”

That single statement set everything afloat and immediately, everyone in the room turned- Heiji, the suspects, the police inspector and other law enforcement, and even the girl who was searching for the kid who had gone missing earlier had stilled at the sound of a man’s voice. “What!?” Heiji could not help but exclaim, along with practically everyone else, whose eyes set on one man with pale and soft features and dark hair, along with glowing sapphire eyes.

Heiji could swear some strange detective music started playing in the background, but it was melodramatic as that highschool boy repeated himself, leaning against the door frame. “That’s wrong.” He exclaimed, a stressed smile on his lips that said he knew everything.

Heiji hated that smile.

“Kudou!” That inspector said, and Heiji’s suspicions were confirmed. Silently, he pulled in a sharp breath, taking in everything- the boy standing right in front of them, claiming to debunk Heiji’s brilliant deduction- was indeed, the one and only Shinichi Kudou. The Heisei Holmes, the Savior of the Japanese Police, the Great Detective of the East.

Heiji was subconsciously aware that his eyes were as large as everything came together. A thin young man, probably younger than Heiji, with pale skin and eyes the color beyond sapphires, drifting onto the wooden frame, reaching one hand out with the other in his pocket. His face was as handsome or pretty as they say, a model nose and full lips and perfect eyes, going fine with long, chocolaty lashes. He had that classic dark hair which was combed, save the small cowlick and loose strands tied up in the back to a small ponytail of sorts. The model of perfect, timeless, traditional handsomeness, combined with a unique sense of elegance and attractiveness that was hard to express in just mere words.

So this is Kudou… Kudou Shinichi! 

Heiji’s thoughts were terribly interrupted by the girl, who now had pearl-like tears on the edges of her eyes. “Shinichi!” She cried aloud, bringing her hands together. “ Where have you been!? I thought you had disappeared, and then you suddenly show up here…! I-I was so worried about you!” Perhaps it was justified that the Osakan felt only a little bad for that highschooler, but he was wound up tightly in the world of his thoughts. 

Those ideas were interrupted with something much less than pleasant. “ Barou, don’t cry.” That same silky voice that Heiji had thought of meeting, and competing with for so long comforted the girl softly, as if they were siblings or lovers or at least attracted to each other. 

“...I agree with her.” Heiji said slowly, and he had to congratulate himself for recovering so quickly and splendidly, a boisterous personality coming back. “Ya suddenly appear and say I’m wrong? Are ya sayin’ that my deductions aren’t right?” Kudou groaned under his breath before taking a shaky step towards him, and Heiji noticed the pained huffs. 

Was the detective sick, or something? 

With a quiet whisper, the boy bit his lip. “...Wait for me…. Soon. It’ll all be over soon.” Then he turned away from the girl and towards the Osakan, with a large sigh escaping the East’s lips like he was irritated, or something. 

Instead of worrying about that, Heiji decided to speak up. “Which part of my deduction do ya think is wrong, Kudou!?” He had to know before he left back for Osaka.

Almost like the other could read his mind, Kudou looked seriously at the west’s highschool detective with a calm demeanor, made believable but given away by the single twitch that his fingers gave out for when the highschooler touched his own eyes, rubbing at them.

“...That trick you just explained is all just make-belief.” Eyes wide, Heiji could not believe the words coming out of the other highschool detective’s mouth. He’d normally laugh it off, but Kudou just seemed so confident about it that it got Heiji actually back off, his heart swaying with a pulse. “I’m saying.. It's one-hundred percent impossible.”

Heiji’s eyes dimmed. “W-what?”

“Hey, Kudou-kun, sorry to butt in, but his deduction of the locked room was perfect.” The police inspector talked before Heiji could. “He even did an experiment earlier using my pants. First, he took the string and stuck the end with no needle to the key holder with cellophane tape. Next, he took the end with the needle and passed it through the inside of my pocket. Then he took both ends, left the room, then locked the door, pulled the side with the needle… and the key automatically went into my pocket! Finally, by pulling the string a bit harder, it came off the tape and all he did was roll up the string to make the evidence disappear, and that created a perfect locked room!”

The description of the trick made Kudou pause, letting a glossed look and as he approached, the man’s blue eyes as those same orbs trailed up both Heiji’s and the inspector’s torsos, like gasoline lighting a fire. Or perhaps he was just a skeleton that was playing a sad melody of death, because Heiji got tiresome chills from that adolescently bright look.

“...Is the key really in your pocket, Megure-keibu?”

His breath was taken away and Heiji felt a bolt of lightning go down his spine. 

“...I could have sworn that I heard the key was inside the victim’s inner pocket.” The Osakan couldn’t handle it anymore. He rushed in front of the other high school detective, green eyes meeting bright blue ones.

With a strong voice, he forced out, “Of course!” the proclamation made it into Kudou’s ears with a smile. “If ya think that’s a lie, then look at this-!” Forcefully, Heiji grabbed the inspector’s coat to move it out of the way, hand slipping into the pocket and bringing the fabric out to prove that nothing was inside. “Ya see? It is in the inner po…!”

Clank.

The sound of the keys falling to the ground disrupted every word that Heiji said, and he could feel his own eyes widen out of disbelief. He leaned down farther, touching those keys and picking them up hastily, trying to pick out his mistake. “But-! ...I’m sure I passed the needle through the inner pocket-!”

Kudou’s eyes softened as he stared down at Hattori. “It’s because… when you made the key go in his pocket, Megure-keibu was sitting down. ” Pausing lightly, he blinked. “ Because he was sitting, the pocket folded, narrowing the path of the key. And thus, the string came off the key holder before it got to the inner pocket. Also, if the victim was overweight like Megure-keibu... then all the more reason.”

Like he was considering, the inspector put a hand to his chin, and moments later a decisive yet impractical tone escaped him. “Now that you mentioned it, when I put my hand into the victim’s pants… I recall them being a tight fit.”

Running calculations in his head, the Osakan bit into his lip. The one time that he happened to be visiting Tokyo, for just the sake of Kudou, who hadn’t even bothered to show up at first- he didn’t want to lose, not so easily, to a man like that.

“But…! Even in the one in thousandth chance… no, it could happen in one in ten…!” Heiji insisted, going out on a limb. The possibility was still there that his trick would work stellarly. It was all left to probability, and luck-!

The words next brought him a deep chill within his chest, like disappointment in himself that his father had given him before.

 “...No matter how many times you do it, the results will be the same.” He suddenly revealed those jewel-like eyes and exchanged looks with Heiji’s own. “Try to remember. When the keys were in his inner pocket, remember how it was facing.”

“How it was… facing?”

Everything clicked in the span of three seconds- the ring of the keys had been facing outwards, not inwards as it would be if threaded into the pocket by a needle. In simpler terms- there was no way that the trick that Heiji explained could be used in this case.

The shock left him shaking but Kudou paid him no mind. “That’s right. Even in the one in ten thousandth chance that it went into his inner pocket, it would only be the key holder.” In a strained yet proud voice, he said silkily. “There’s no way that the key and key holder could get into that inner pocket with such a narrow space. The fact that the key was in his pocket… means that the murderer put the key in the victim’s inner pocket before the murder occured.

“In other words, there was another trick in play here… the murderer’s real trick. When the victim was found, there was opera playing and a stack of books in front of him. The victim was poisoned, and the opera was playing to hide a scream in case the man woke up and realized he was poisoned. The books were to cover his face in case it twisted in pain.”

Heiji could not help but laugh- eyes wide, he put a hesitant hand close to Kudou, who was gazing sadly at the bookshelf, but Heiji was troubled. Even the laugh sounded fake to his ears now- the burn was too harsh, and he could practically track the droplet proof of his shocked emotion threatening to spill down the side of his tanned cheek.

“That’s ridiculous!” he proclaimed, an artificial smile still turning up his lips. “Who does the murderer have to fool, with a trick like that!?”

“The person that the murderer wanted to fool…” Pausing, then revealing those painstakingly bright and sharp, intelligent eyes, and it strained Heiji. “...was you, Hattori.”



He lost. Terribly, from start to finish, this time.

And Heiji couldn’t even trust himself to believe it. Except he felt himself slightly accept it, and somewhere in his heart told him to coexist with Kudou, and it made him angry or furious that he just accepted his defeat so easily, without anything else-!

Heiji, out of something akin to guilt in his chest, assisted Kudou with the delivery of his  deduction, and it all became so brightly clear as soon as the Osakan caught onto the ploy. To think that he- Hattori Heiji, of Osaka, the Great Highschool Detective of the West- was fooled. Perhaps he was too eager to have a match against Kudou, and the stunning idea of winning had blinded his eyes to the truth. All of that truth had been revealed by Kudou- to the reason for her killing, the motive, hidden cleverly in a photo that Heiji had dismissed as inconclusive evidence.

The police escorted the murderous lady out, and then Kudou started to go sick in a raging fit of coughing. Heiji got himself to care- no matter how others thought, he wasn’t a bad person. He was just distracted today, and lost sight of what he was aiming towards.

“Kudou!” He exclaimed, rushing forward behind the girl, and the other detective’s panting became heavier, and he started to cough behind his palm, before standing up with a bored expression. Heiji could see that he was clearing putting on a brave face in front of the girl. “I think it's just a cold,” the East’s detective said, but his scratched and hoarse voice gave away.

“But how did ya know so much about this case?” Heiji had to ask. Now that he had accepted defeat, some peace was left in his heart and he felt in pacification with Kudou, the detective that Heiji had thought of before as a deadly rival. Perhaps it was the way that he kept a clear head, amidst the cold he had, but Heiji thought that he felt something like a twinge of admirement through his veins. “So ya were peepin’ in from somewhere, after all.” That didn’t stop him from deciding to tease the other, though.

Kudou sighed, as if irritated. “ Barou! That four-eyed kid told me, over the phone.”

That reminded Heiji- the kid, Conan, had gone missing after he left the room, and hasn’t appeared since. Considering his… sickness, he couldn’t have gone far. Heiji didn’t really think about it up until now- he was solely concentrated on the murder.

“You heard from Conan-kun?” The girl asked, eyes wide in surprise, and acting all innocent wouldn’t make you seem any less threatening by the tightening of her hands. If this “Ran” was anything like Kazuha, then she probably knew some advanced martial arts, or something like that.

“Yeah.” Kudou confirmed it. “He told me to come quickly, because there was some strange detective from Osaka.” Now, he seemed more consorted in pain than before, and Heiji could see his blue eyes twitching as he winced. “I finished up… the case… I was working on… and got on the train-!”

“That’s a lie!” The girl said, pressing her face close to Kudou’s, and immediately the latter’s unusually pale features had a twinge of pink over his ears. Heiji, too, was blushing, but the one who had the rosyness on their face the most was the nee-san, with her face blooming a dark red the color of roses. She pushed Heiji out of the way ( rude!) as a look of surprise crossed Kudou’s face. “He said that it was strange for you to not ask about my well-being over the phone! You were nearby, weren’t you!? You were probably close and laughing about how worried I was about you!”

Tears, crystal ones, dropped down the girl’s face, and Heiji could not help but feel bad. He had said that to her, right after they had left and in the car, as a means of drawing Kudou out. But it seemed like Kudou was the one most surprised out of all of them. Heiji could not help but feel like a third wheel, amidst the exchange of feelings those two surely were having.

“H-hey, Ran!” Gently Kudou protested, but was ignored. “Why would you do something like that…? I feel so… so…”

“...Don’t underestimate me.” Instead of reacting like expected, a look of pure confidence crossed the blue-eyed detective’s face as he smirked. “I’m a detective! With you, all I need to do is hear your voice, and I’ll know how you’re doing-!” A sudden fit of coughs radiated, and the girl held onto her (maybe) boyfriend’s shirt, shaking lightly, before announcing that she was going to get a doctor and she rushed from the room.

Heiji could not help but sigh, once it was just the two of them, and the disappointment of losing all crashed down in a single moment. “So my deduction ‘as wrong, from the beginnin’?” He asked quietly, before putting his hands into his pockets. “It does look like I lost from start to finish, this time… That was good of ya, Kudou. Your deductions were superior to mine.” Somehow, he was able to keep a steady smile on his face.

For some reason, this seemed to baffle Kudou as he looked back with those stunning blue eyes, cloudy yet clearer than water. 

“Barou. In detective work… There's no ‘winning’ or ‘losing’. There's no being superior or inferior…” He winced once, but continued on as he turned to lean against the bookshelf. “That’s because… there’s always the one and only one truth.”

This struck a cord inside Heiji, one buried deep inside his heart- the one that made him remember exactly why he became a detective, in the first place. 

It wasn’t to beat others, to show off, or to get approval from his parents- it was to discover that single truth, and the realization made his green eyes widen.

It softened quickly, though, as a shadow loomed across his face.

“You’re right.” He put a hand to his cap. “Looks like I was too worried about our contest and lost my cool.” Admitting it seemed to release something within his chest, making it lighter, and the smile on his face became a little more real as he felt a lot better.

All of that was interrupted by concern as the other doubled over, one hand on the shelf, and in his face twisted in pain, a pale hand clutching at his own shirt over his chest. “H-hey, Kudou, are ya sure it's just a cold?” He asked, but his hands felt a bit hesitant to touch Kudou. Not because it was the latter’s fault, but because there was something untouchable about the other detective- and it felt like Heiji wasn’t qualified to do so. So he just stood there, hands outreached, as he watched the other twitch and struggle.

Kudou’s teeth were gritted against each other, and Heiji could not help but be worried for him. Though they just met, though Heiji considered him nothing more than a defeatable rival at first- hearing a boy his age stick so close to those basic ideals seemed to bring them closer in Heiji’s heart. 

He could vaguely hear heavy and rushed footsteps coming closer by the second, undoubtedly by that nee-san and a doctor, and he was sure that Kudou could hear them as well. However he just tumbled out the door, as if trying to get away, and ran down the stairs, where the girl covered her mouth in a scream- and evaporated into thin air.

Gone.

 

=====

 

Conan sighed. It was a week since he had met Heiji Hattori; had returned to his original body, just for a few moments, and he couldn’t express nearly how painful it was to feel a thread of hope snap right between his fingers. Shinichi had been strong, legs especially, able to play soccer well and had excellent senses that allowed him to dodge Ran’s daily attacks, but Conan was frail. Those limbs that used to be decently muscular were reduced to being thin and flimsy and delicate, easily breakable, and joints weren’t flexible.

How had it come to the fact that he became Conan?

When he woke up that time ago, Shinichi had tried so hard to report to the officers that he wasn’t just some random kid, he really was Kudou Shinichi, turned into a kid by a pill! They didn’t believe him, thinking it was the mere squandering of a child, and in rage Shinichi had rushed to the professor Agasa’s house. And he, too, didn’t believe Shinichi at first, either.

He had to convince the man using practical means, easily deducing something even himself as a grade schooler should be able to do, and got his own clothes- albeit old ones which he wore when he was ten. They were a bit baggy on his limbs, but he didn’t dwell on it, just tucked in the sleeves and rolled up any excess fabric.

Then the worst possible scenario happened. Ran came over, Shinichi surprised, and had attempted to hide before the professor whispered to him to not let anyone else know that he was really Shinichi, in case the men in black come after him again, and instead he was found, coming up with the alias “Edogawa Conan” in a second. Named after the famous author of Sherlock Holmes, of course.

Somehow, he ended up living with Ran and her father. Lucky that Shinichi- no, Conan, never really thought of Ran as anything more than the best of friends, and he was sure that Ran saw him the same way. Like a pair of siblings, glued to each other. Sonoko would tease him about it, calling them inseparable like ducks were to water. 

(Shinichi had given her a long-winded explanation about how ducks could totally leave water, so it was a terrible comparison)

Using the gadgets that Agasa had made- some of the first few useful ones to date, Conan became the second of the two-man show known as the Sleeping Kogoro. How they didn't notice was going to be an unsolvable mystery to Conan, but it was a great thing for him- he could do what he needed to do, without having the suspicion of those men in black, and he could earn some money for the uncle while he was at it. 

 

...So, yes. That was how Shinichi ended up in this predicament, as he, Conan, stared down an unamused cat in the eye. 

The professor was with him at the moment, the two of them decided to go outside to a restaurant and eat, but it was midday on Saturday- their reservation was an hour later, forgotten by the professor, and the sun was unbearably hot. 

The logical proposal by the professor was graciously accepted by Conan: to get ice cream. Agasa chose a chocolaty one, topped with a heavy load of rainbow sprinkles and a single rosy cherry on the top. Conan liked the undeniably strong taste of coffee his had, and the cream dripping over and splattered wasn’t exactly bad, either.

“I wasn’t aware that anyone else would like that!” Without warning, a bubbly voice approached the professor and Conan himself as they were both sitting on a bench in the park next to the restaurant. It made the kid squint lightly. Who’d talk to an old man- a genius one, but hard to tell at first sight- and a kid who was barely in elementary school in this weather?

He looked up, shocked when Conan’s blue eyes met with darker blue ones. It was almost like the other person was just equally surprised, because those hues were large in disbelief. Maybe he knew Conan- but then again, this person did remind Conan of someone.

A little bit of himself.

Their features, Conan as Shinichi, were similar in the way that they both had the same face shape and hair colors, he’d have to give that much. But the similarities stop there. 

While the stranger’s eyes were a dark, calming blue, Conan’s was more like a glowing sapphire or aquamarine blue. They looked more mischievous on the other end, too, and Conan was sure he never looked like that tricker when he was younger. His eyebrows tightened when the other gave him a hearty smirk, as if expecting him to react in some way.

It slightly annoyed him. “Do I know you?” The teen-turned-kid asked, staring into the other’s eyes, and this provoked not only a reaction from the stranger, but from Agasa. The latter sat interested, pretending to be focused on his own ice cream, but Conan could see those eyes glancing at him every few heartbeats. As if nervous about something.

“...Don’t you?”

That irked Conan. Surely, he would have remembered everyone he met in the past few months as Conan? And who would make the connection between himself and Kudou Shinichi, that quickly…? His heart skipped a beat. Don’t tell me they already-!?

No, he collected himself. They couldn’t have, not so fast, not when he- as Conan- was just a mere elementary school kid, and Conan was sure that he would be able to recall another person who looked eerily similar, yet different in so many ways. He barely let the fear show on him for just a moment, but he was certain that the stranger had caught it.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Conan admitted, lapping at his ice cream. The soothing coffee flavor danced over his tongue. “...but nice to meet you, onii-chan! I’m Edogawa Conan.” He switched seamlessly to the childish voice, and the name seemed to make the stranger flinch.

“...Of course, you couldn’t possibly be- Ah. You just looked like someone I once knew, from a bit ago.” The stranger’s lapis eyes looked downwards, and Conan felt slightly curious but not compelled to ask. He could feel Agasa’s gaze on the other, though. “Oh, how terribly rude of me! I’m Kuroba Kaito, nice to meet you.” 

He said it in a dramaticized fashion, casually spreading out his hands for show. “ Boya, do you believe in magic...?” Quietly and suspensefully, the stranger- sorry, Kuroba, asked with a grandiose twinkle in his eyes.

Conan shook his head. Magic was a joke- a series of sleight-of-hand movements are swift tricks not worthy to be even called anything close to a crime. He didn’t believe it, and the fact that Kuroba was asking was strange.

“Aww, so sad, so sad~!” In a sing-song tone, Kuroba danced, and waved a single hand in front of Conan before a deck of cards appeared out of nowhere and he bowed, before releasing a pair of doves from the inside of his shirt. “Feast your eyes on my magic- Isn’t magic simply fascinating !?”

“...You just quickly slipped the deck of cards from your sleeve and then moved the two doves from the back of your shirt to the front.” The kid sighed. 

A matching breath came out from the other side. “You really have no imagination, huh?” Kuroba asked, and Conan noted how the other wasn’t surprised at all. It bothered him somewhat. “But that’s fine, K...Edogawa-kun. I’ll still like you nonetheless.”

The spoon dropped out of the cup of ice cream and a rush of irritation went through the kid. He didn’t act on it, though. 

“We just met!” Conan stared up, at how Kuroba spoke like they’ve known each other for years. “...Besides, just call me Conan. Everyone else does so, anyway…”

This earned a beaming smile from Kuroba as he completely ignored- or disregarded, at the very least, the first part of the dialogue. “Okay, Conan-chan! Just call me Kaito-nii then, yes?” He was smirking now, and Conan’s ear twitched.

“D-did you just call me… C-conan-chan!?” 

“Yup, Conan-chan! Now call for Kaito-nii!”

It felt like the professor finally felt Conan’s internal pain at the now barely edible ice cream and the fact that he was extremely uncomfortable with the nicename, and Agasa put a hand around Conan’s thin waist and drew him closer. For once, Conan was so terribly glad that Agasa was there at the moment. 

Kuroba gruffed at the sight, eyes with a weird gleam of disappointment that enlightened Conan. “Fine~!” He twirled a loose strand of hair. “Conan-kun it is, then. Bo~ring.” 

Right at the second, a notification was sent to Conan's phone and he had never been so glad to see a message before. It was sweet and short, in the style that he was used to, and pulled on Agasa’s sleeve for show. “We’ll have to go,” Conan smiled. “We have a dinner reservation, over there, you see.”

If anything, Kuroba- Kaito looked upset, but it disappeared in less than a moment. Crestfallen he pressed against Conan’s small chest. “Alright. I see.” He confirmed, frowning, crossing his arms as he leaned away from Conan. Internally, he thanked whatever higher power there was. 

Conan took Agasa’s hand, pulling him away. The familiar chubby hand against his own was comforting enough. He didn’t exactly know why, but Conan knew that there was something strange about the stranger, Kaito. The kid didn’t want to stick around any more than he had to, and the reservation for the restaurant was about as good of an excuse as he was going to get.

Walking along, he was painstakingly aware that Kaito was still following him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

When they finally reached the edge of the restaurant, even the usually-passive Agasa was starting to be annoyed at that point and he turned to meet eyes with Kaito, and an unwelcoming yet delighted grin was on that man’s face. Cheeky, he bowed to stare at Conan- completely ignoring the professor in the process and Conan could have sworn that the smile on Agasa’s face just became a lot less real.

“Why are you following me?” Conan asked, eyes flat on his face, looking up to meet Kaito’s eyes. The cheeky grin became more toothy, and Kaito ruffled his hair. Okay, so what if I do look like a six-year-old? I’m sixteen! I don’t have to be treated like a kid! He didn’t understand why, either, that Kaito seemed to be enjoying his presence so much. Conan didn’t remember ever having met the other, and he trusted his memory with complete faith.

He could feel Agasa’s irritation too, which wasn’t a good sign. The professor usually was smiling, laughable, and child-like, but a frown was even on his face.

“Hmm? Didn’t I tell you?” Kaito laughed. “I have a reservation at that restaurant, too! And our times are right on, too. What a total coincidence!” Conan’s eyes narrowed, then twitched, and the laughing behind him made it all so much worse. 

Grumbling, a small pout was on the boy’s face as he turned. It's alright, he told himself quietly. If I ignore him enough, he’ll go away.

By now, Conan should have known- nothing in life was that easy, and perhaps it was what actually was on his mind as he stared at Kaito, brazenly waving to him from the table right next to his own with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

 

A week had passed since he first met Kaito, and it was strange how the latter seemed to want to stick to Conan like glue. It was noticeable for everyone. Ran noticed, asking why there was suddenly a highschooler that always had a pack of playing cards tucked in a pocket, and it scared his heart out to realize that Kaito had followed him all the way home. Kogoro noticed, questioning some random brat was now following the small brat around after school. Even the Detective Boys had noticed; realizing that suddenly there was a tall teenager that seemed to be waiting at their school gates everyday for no apparent reason but meeting with Conan.

Conan doesn’t even want to begin to fathom how Kaito knew which school he went to.

So, he shouldn’t have been particularly surprised when the teenager showed up to the Sherlock Holmes party that Conan- as Shinichi- was terribly excited to go to, and had smirked delightfully at an exasperated Conan, who was following a mildly curious Kogoro and a concerned Ran Mouri.

“Why are you here?” He had to ask, staring up at Kaito with concentrated eyes, and the grin changed to a smirk. The teenager squatted down to meet Conan’s face, and again Conan was reminded of exactly how short he’s gotten now. Darn this small body!

It was too bad, really, that he didn’t exactly remember how tall he was as a six-year-old before that accident had occurred. The mysterious incident that had made Shinichi lose all of his memory, leaving his mind an empty husk of what he assumed it was before.

He shook the thoughts out. 

“Well, I just so happened to find this ticket! Blown by the wind to my hands, I dare say.” It always annoyed Conan how Kaito pretended that everything was mere coincidence, as if the two of them were brought together by chance, or something, and especially because Conan watched Kaito on multiple occasions to buy a ticket for whatever he was doing for the day after him.

He sighed. Ignoring Kaito only ever worked for a few seconds, but he could use the tactic for now.

The doors to the manor where the Holmes party was taking place were grand, and looked exactly like Conan imagined it would when described by those mystery novels that he so enjoyed reading. The perfect rooms, the light fragrance, the beautiful lights- it was like a dream come true. Maybe Kaito and Ran acknowledged his wonder, because they kept sliding glances at him in times that they both thought that he hadn’t noticed, but in all honesty- he was distracted and some warm pool of joy was heavy in his chest. 

If only Conan could come as Shinichi, with Ran, and without Kaito.

“Hey, ‘s Kudou here?” 

That familiar voice. It made Conan freeze, blood cold, as he slowly looked backwards at met eyes from large sapphire ones to wild green orbs. Tanned skin, handsome face framed by chocolatey dark hair that flattened out underneath a baseball cap, a lean but tall and clearly well-fit stature that worked along fine with his Osakan accent.

Why are there so many unnecessary people here?

First was Kogoro, then Kaito, now Hattori too? 

He could already tell that it was going to be one long day that he wouldn’t enjoy much. For all the talk about having fun at a Holmes party… These certain party guests were the exact ones that he had hoped to avoid. 

“Are you looking for Shinichi?” Ran asked gently, with something akin to hope gimmering in her bright purple eyes. She held a hand to her chest as Hattori registered her presence, the Osakan’s eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, yer here, too? I thought Kudou might have come, bein’ the ‘Heisei Holmes’ and all, but nice to see ya, Onee-san.”

She nodded. “So Shinichi won’t be here, after all…?” It crushed Conan to see Ran look so down. Crystal tears nearly prickled at the corners of her eyes and how Conan wished that he could become Shinichi for just another moment- if only to be able to pat her shoulder affectionately and tell her to not cry for him anymore.

“...We’ll see,” it seemed even the West’s detective was uncomfortable with seeing a girl like Ran cry. “I’m hopin’ he’ll come, though.” Wistfully, he looked off to the distance and Conan could not help but sheepishly laugh. I am here.

As if just noticing that Conan was there, he looked down at him and again Conan cursed himself for being so short. Seeing Hattori stare him down was insensitively uncomfortable. Like he was mocking him, like last time, where their competition escalated to far beyond what Conan originally thought it could be. “Oi, kiddo. Yer here, too?”

He sighed. “Hi, Heiji-nii-chan,” he started off by waving. Hopefully Hattori won't connect the dots between Shinichi and Conan anytime soon. “It’s… nice to see you.”

“Why’re ya so tense?” Hattori crouched to inspect Conan’s face, and the latter jumped back with a start. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry about last time. I didn’t actually think ya’d drink the alcohol, and it just made ya more sick, didn’t it?”

Conan laughed self-consciously. “Oh, uhm, yeah… say, why are you here, Heiji-nii-chan?” He asked, puffing up. For a tense moment, nothing happened- not a single whisper was made and Conan paused while it was happening. Everything was silent in the room, and not even Ran or Kogoro or Kaito was chatting. Conan wasn’t sure if they were listening in, but they certainly weren’t talking to each other, anyways.

Without warning, Hattori laughed, putting a hand onto Conan’s head and ruffling around silky hair. Conan could feel something happening beside him, but he didn’t say or do anything about it as emptily he let Hattori swirl his hair around and pat him on the head. But he did growl slightly, sapphire eyes meeting the floor. “Ya know, that expression you just gave me- it looked so much like Kudou that I was nearly convinced you were him!”

It was like something hit him in the head and Conan froze, all muscles slowing down as his brain rushed through everything. He doesn’t know, he tried to convince himself, reminding of his breathing tactics. Don’t let him detect irregularities in your breathing! Listen, he doesn’t know. He can’t. He can’t possibly know-

A hand slammed itself forcefully on his shoulder, and that snapped Conan out of his shock. A cold, murderous intent like no other peeled over and for the first time since he became Conan, he felt a slow fear crawling up his spine like water down a trail. Gleaming eyes that promised a slow death- and the ones who those eyes belonged to, was standing right next to him, having one hand on the tip of his shoulder.

Conan… don’t worry. You’re fine .” A small voice was next to his ear, but he couldn’t discern who the voice belonged to, underneath the breath. Just as that happened, another ringing voice echoed in the room: “You are?” That voice was unmistakably Kaito’s voice.

Then who was the other voice?

“Ah? I’m Hattori Heiji, the Great Highschool Detective of the West!” That familiar accent made Conan think regularly again. Yes. Calm down. He doesn’t know; look at his reaction. He… doesn’t know. “Anyways. I was looking for Kudou; heard he was a huge Holmes fan and naturally assumed he’d be here, ya know? Also, who’re you?”

“Me?” Kaito laughed like his signature, and Conan finally had the head to look back. He was less scared and more cautious, and the sight his eyes were met with was Hattori and Kaito staring down at each other, Hattori relaxed with hands in his pockets and Kaito standing upright with hands behind his back. “I’m Kuroba Kaito! Pleased to meet you, Hattori Heiji-kun. ” In one moment, the man waved his hand, and in a poof of colored smoke, something changed.

Hattori’s hair was now a bright, bubblegum pink, and now the untamed spikes from before turned into a small pigtail with braids, the cap gone.

“OI!” The Osakan exclaimed, touching his hair and some pink powder coming off onto his hands. “WHAT THE-! YOU- WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?” He rushed away without listening to the reason, straight past the sign that pointed to the washroom.

“Sorry~!” Cheerfully, Kaito called. “By the way, it doesn’t wash out!”

Dumbfounded but regaining from her surprise, Ran opened the door and gave Conan one last look before calling out; “Hattori-kun, I’m coming!”

“ARGH!”

 

======

 

She looked at the photo in the brightly-lit room, eyes flickering.

Shinichi Kudou, huh?

And her sister… Edogawa Conan…  

The connection. It was all clear to her, now, and satisfied, she looked at the list one more time, before clicking the little square next to the name of someone known as the great highschool detective of Japan, and typed in the correct term.

It was changed. From ‘unknown’, marked to the clearest of terms, with a few taps of her fingertips gliding along a crustated and blinding white keyboard.

‘Dead’. 

She signed it off gracefully, sipping from her mug, as she stared back at the codename of herself on the screen, and a satisfied smile crossed her face with a hidden thought underneath as she tapped the table, letting the tablet in question tumble and fall.

Sherry.

Perhaps it was time to move out.

Notes:

Forgive me. I have a pretty good explanation for the long-awaited update.

To begin with, I have OCD, and seeing an imperfect scene in this chapter makes me uncomfortable at worst. I wrote a whole 5000-worded section on Shin-kun turning to Conan from Vodka's point of view, but I disliked it, then I deleted it. Honestly, I don't think this chapter is very good. It's not flowing as much as I'd like, but take it from me that this is a character introduction arc- starting from either the next or the one after the next chapter, the real story shall begin, and these chapters are just trying to get you to understand.

In my personal opinion, if Kuroba Kaito under his circumstances and a Conan that wasn't used to be Conan had met at a park, this would actually be how they would act towards each other. Shin-kun isn't one to take irritable people easily, and a Conan not used to being a kid would probably feel the same way.

In all honesty, Ran was crossed off as a love partner in this chapter simply because I got angry watching episode 49, where she was whining and stuff. This is a spur-of-the-moment thing, where I was annoyed because I was trying to find the parts with Hei-kun to write about, but all I saw was three minutes of Ran complaining. No, I don't hate Ran. In fact, I think she's one of the best-crafted characters. But being annoyed greatly contributed to everything.

Another thing to clear up: after reviewing the anime, I have realized a major blunder I had made. Bourbon actually doesn't join the BO until two years after Akai had left, which didn't make particular sense to me- after all, Bourbon was able to run up to a nearly-dead Scotch so easily, and Bourbon joining the BO at the same time as Scotch sorta just clicked. So, in this alternative universe, Bourbon and Scotch did join at the same time.

Thanks for reading. If there is any mistakes, please tell me- I have no beta.

Chapter 3: II Part I

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Two Part I

 

Quiet midnight skies and those horrible, horrible silver stars, that pale breeze sweeping the dust off the ground, and the flames, raging across the wooden house, crying with only the flicker of embers as bidden lights soared through the burning sky. Deep, pained pants came distressingly as his desperation like never before burned at his lungs as he put out an outstretched hand, hoping, hoping with tears, that he would just take it. That this could all be resolved peacefully.

The sound of shattered glass was all that rang out through the burnt fields as he threw him out with those flemish arms, through the window, and he hated and cursed and never before was so angry with himself that he was so thin now, so unable to do anything as his small body was tossed through the crystal glass helplessly. Those last few deathly whispers echoed throughout his ear as he screamed, yelled for him to save himself like he could, if he didn’t save him instead.

She, his friend, desperately held on to his small body as he tossed himself forward, trying to break his way through the house. If the possibility- if only, if only, he could save him, if he just was able to go a little bit further- he begged whatever higher power. Just for him to save himself.

The haunting sound of music rang out, as he watched forlornly, and the house went up in a fit of smoldering embers and flames and every press of the notes of piano by soft fingertips played one last melody that seemed to hold every regret that he possibly had in his life, gone as fire ate him whole.

 

...

“...Hattori, have you ever killed someone…?”

 

=

 

It wasn’t a development that she really expected at first for Akemi Miyano. 

She knew for a fact that those people mostly had no use for her, not giving her a codename or anything and directly insulting her ( “You don’t offer us anything. Miyano Akemi. You aren’t worth anything.”) , but her sister was Sherry. The genius young scientist that was key to the organization, but truthfully Akemi wouldn’t- and didn’t- allow herself to think like that. 

She wasn’t Sherry, and her sister was Shiho Miyano , the sweet, childish mess that was fierce and spirited underneath the mask of pure coolness and the person most dear to Akemi, right before Dai. Her younger sister was special, and she couldn’t lie about how fond she was of Shiho. 

Not that she would ever say otherwise, because Shiho was everything to her in this forsaken world of death and darkness.

She loved Shiho. She loved Shiho to the point where Akemi would gladly give up everything she had in her world to save her. Not a moment went by without the thought of Shiho at the back of her mind, whispering, and she never wanted to give it up. As the big sister, Akemi would protect Shiho as much as she could.

A long breath came out.

In all honesty, being left to her own administrations was normal. But called in by them to work as a bank registration desk assistant wasn’t normal. Akemi could guess what they wanted; and it wasn’t something that took a genius to figure out. It was clear that they wanted her to dive deep into the bank and bargain a large sum of money for them.

One billion, to be exact, once she received her first mission from them in forever.

She sighed. Life was so hard, but there were silver linings to every cloud.

With sparkles, her eyes lit up as three familiar figures walked into the bank- recognizable faces that she missed, notwithstanding that they only met briefly. Their meeting left a lasting impact on her, though, and it kind of made her a bit heavyhearted to find that the detective known as Kogoro and the solicitous girl Ran didn’t recall her. 

Breaking out of her world, she carelessly glanced at her watch, before thinking again.

But the all-too jocularly clever kid that touched her heart the most, Conan, definitely remembered Akemi, because he beamed up at her and called her alias name. “Masumi-sa… M-masumi-nee-chan!” He called, and she gave him a fond smile.

He gave her hope.

They had met once before, during a case, where a frighteningly dead body found itself close to her and she had witnessed Conan with a deduction too direly forbidding for a simple kid to be able to attest to. Then he laughed it off nervously, insisting it was “playing detective”, when clearly his words were the ones that influenced the detective Sleeping Kogoro and the police into finding the culprit.

How Ran, who was definitely smart, completely missed it was beyond Akemi. Or maybe she had suspected, because she congratulated her father and sent a sideways look to Conan, who was completely oblivious to such tactics and stared off into the distance.

“Masumi-nee-chan?” A curious voice called, and mistily she looked down at the concerned yet inquisitional countenance that Conan’s expression was. Sheepishly, she gave him a small smile. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “Thinking about something.”

The kid frowned, clearly wanting to press, but instead retracted by Akemi’s faraway look and sat on the seat across with a book in his hand. That detective, Kogoro, walked to the side, doing some cash transfer for detective work and his daughter followed, while the boy just waited. Once they came back, they did a quick change of hands with Akemi, and she looked at her watch again.

It's almost time. The part of the mission was about to occur.

“Is something wrong?” A clear-cut voice called, and Akemi flinched, staring down at Conan, who gave her a prepossessed stare. “You’ve been looking at your watch a lot, recently.”

If she didn’t know any better, she would have been groundbreakingly shocked that she was so obvious that a grade schooler could see through her, but it wasn’t just any kid. It was Conan, and she blinked before her face distorted into a recessive smile. “Eh- Ah… ano, it's pretty busy right now. I was thinking I’d better eat lunch now while I can.”

Her practiced lie slipped right off her tongue, and Conan didn’t seem convinced one bit. “See you later, Conan-kun,” Akemi raised herself from her seat at the flat look the boy sent her. That didn’t matter. Seeing Conan, and Kogoro and Ran, made her day a bit better. But it wasn’t going to be good much longer. It was time to deal with them, and the money.

Akemi pulled in a long breath. Crossing her fingers won’t be enough to hope that everything goes smoothly, and nobody dies, and it all doesn’t go west and instead right.

 

..

.

Things had gone terribly, terribly, terribly wrong.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She shouldn’t have to be pointing a gun at Gin’s chest right now, trying to hide the information of the money in order to protect Shiho. None of this was supposed to happen, and she shouldn’t have to be clutching at straws, with the cold glare Gin was sending her, with bated words.

“...I told you, it was your last chance.” He said in a raspy voice, and it sent chills down Akemi’s spine. The gun directed at her forehead gleamed a menacing silver and the sound of gunfire- along with a terrible pain that crawled along her stomach and head- was horrible.

She could feel them lifting the keys off of her, and she hated it. For the first time, she cursed them, cursed against her soul, and bit her lips until blood was drawn. Dai… I see now. This was the terrible organization you were trying so hard to destroy. The dark side of the organization, hidden so brilliantly to the point that even she- a member- was fooled.  

Behind all of that mindless noise, a single, blinding thought remained, and she could barely see straight. I’m sorry, Shiho. I couldn’t protect you, in the end.

Memories shunned her mind of all other senses. Times as a kid, playing with Shiho, growing up with Shiho, watching as Shiho was becoming the perfect scientist to continue their parents’ research and legacy. The sweet girl, slowly growing a defensive shield over time, but underneath all that was the fragile little girl that Akemi knew and loved so dearly.

Will you forgive your one-chan?

Perhaps that was a terrible last thought to have as she bleeded out crimson.

It stunned her, made her flinch against her will, to hear footsteps. Light footsteps, coming closer, and it wasn’t good that she could feel her sight fading. They couldn’t have possibly left for a long time, and…

“Masami-san!” a breathy, desperate voice, followed by the sound of steps, rushed over to her side. She knew that voice. Who was it…? It was… the kid. The boy that gave her a bit more hope in this world. Edogawa… Conan……

...Why was he here...?

“Hold on, Masami-san!” She barely could notice how the formalities of “onee-chan” were dismissed completely as he ghosted over her face. Maybe she was going crazy. Seeing illusions now. If she was, and had hallucinations, please, whatever higher power was out there, could she see Dai… no, Shiho… 

Just one last time?

...Please?

Silence greeted her. Maybe it was a curse. That in her last moments, she would see the little kid that she thought of as a symbol of hope, or- even worse- could he possibly… be real?

“...Conan-kun…” Weakly, with as much strength as she could muster, she rasped out words. Incomprehensible junk that surely is not fit for anyone to hear. “Why are you here…?” 

Gently, he put a hand to her face. “I put a tracer on your car. I was sure you were going to meet the person behind this case.” With no idea how surprised this made her, Conan just let it slip out as suddenly he looked as forlorn as a small, kidly face could get. “ Kusou!” he bit out. “If only I had talked to you, then…”

Akemi looked up. “W-who are you?” Surely a kid couldn’t do this… even in Akemi’s current, blood-deprived mental state, she could figure that out. 

“Edogawa….” He looked down. “No… Kudou Shinichi. A detective.”

“Kudou… Shinichi…!?” Maybe today was the day of surprise, because they just kept coming, one after another… this little kid… was the famous highschool detective? “You are…?” But she could only smile painfully. “I see… the rumor was true. They killed the two I hired, and, in the end, the organization had killed me, too.” 

Concerned, he looked down with determined eyes, unfitting as he watched Akemi bleed out. A highschool detective, huh… “Organization?”

“It’s a large, mysterious crime syndicate.” If he wasn’t a hallucination, Akemi will give him all the organization she could possibly give. Even if it was beyond painful just to move her head to speak. “I don’t know much else, but… the organization’s color is black. Yes, everyone intimate with the organization wears clothing as black as crows.”

The look of shock on the kid’s face that suddenly sprouted told Akemi everything. It seems that he also had an encounter with them, too, and recognized exactly what was going on. Conan suddenly stood up, and Akemi knew she had to calm him down.

Even if he wasn’t real.

“Please listen to my final words…” She passed him the keys. The keys that doomed her, that made her fail to protect Shiho. “Here… This is the real one. The one they took was fake.” A coughing fit went through her and instantly the kid… highschool detective clutched at her sleeves and grasped her, trying to focus her vision, which was declining rapidly. “Please, before they realize… Sorry, I’m not going to make it… I’ll leave the rest to you.”

She let her consciousness slip out. Black and pain and something in between swarmed her mind, as her eyes faded into nothingness and she could almost hear the faint clutch of breath, as if desperately wishing with all his might that it wasn’t true…

“And…” Quietly, to the point where she was sure that he couldn’t even hear her- maybe she was just thinking it, she didn’t know anymore. “Please… take care… of my sister, Shiho… Chii-sana... Tantei-san…..”

Akemi just had to hope. Hope, that he really was there to begin with.

Or was it all a hallucination…?

 

Crimson…. 

 

Now, she could go to a place where she could see Shiho and Dai every day, and be with them forever…

Right…?



His breath hitched.

Words and questions and pain and fury at his own inability swirled in his mind. All that Conan had left was the still-warm body of Hirota Masami… no, Miyano Akemi… in his hands, along with the key that cost her life.

Was it worth it? And that last request. He could sense it. He couldn’t hear it.

He slammed a fist into the dirt.

He was so useless.

Another question sprouted with his mind, along with a burning sense… of… he couldn’t even tell anymore. His morals refused to call it “justice” or “revenge”. He just wanted to take down the organization he knew through his tears, and exact equitability to all those that were harmed by them.

Wait.

 

I already knew this.

What?

 

Why…?

Why did I already know that it’s an organization..?

 

==

 

The second weirdest student to join Teitan Elementary School’s Class 1-B was a young girl named Haibara Ai. Or at least, that’s what they all told Conan (classified as number one strangest student in class 1-B) after he had officially joined the Detective Boys.

It was subsequently after that he had been notified that apparently Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta had been following him on some or most days without him realizing it, in search of adventure. And it kind of scared Conan in the pit of his chest that he didn’t realize it, though he was still sensitive to danger. Or perhaps it was because of how constantly his guard was up recently, looking out for real threats, that he didn’t exactly sense children trailing after him.

Now that he thought about it, it probably didn’t help much with being unnoticed to be with old man Kogoro with most of his cases, but it wasn’t exactly something that he could deal with that corpses just happened to be around him. It was normal for him. Even when he was young- or as young as he could remember- as Shinichi, mysteries of all kinds sort of just occurred. Per the usual. And it wasn’t any different on any day, really.

If he played his cards right, and hoped with his dearest luck, maybe he wouldn’t ever be found out to be Shinichi as Conan and could bring down that dark organization. As of right now, only a finger’s count of people knew, like Agasa and… Akemi Miyano… and Hattori.

He narrowed his eyes. That Osakan finding out had been a real freight, and luckily Hattori wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he was beyond rough but caring, and even promised to help Conan with hiding the fact that he was Shinichi. This, he was thankful for, but the only two huge problems with Hattori was the massive rivalry the latter apparently felt towards him and the fact that the Osakan detective apparently wasn’t able to say the name “Conan” without messing up, stuttering with “Kudou” first, and having to make some terrible pun to cover it up.

After a long sigh, a ruffled tap glided across the floor. “Conan-kun?” A small hand patted his shoulder, and surprised, he jumped slightly within his chair. The familiar freckled face of Mitsuhiko calmed all shock down in all but a single instant, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah?”

The boy withdrew, and Conan stopped staring out the window to recognize that the Detective Boys had all gathered around his desk. “Nothing, really, but you just seem really out of it.” Mitsuhiko noted, and the other raised an eyebrow. “But don’t worry about that! In fact, we also had something to tell you! We have another job request for the Detective Boys!”

Conan frowned. It was currently break time, but by him glancing at the clock on the wall, recess would be over in three minutes and a half. Sapphire eyes looking back at the terribly hopeful looks that the other three had given him, he sighed with a small laugh.

These days were so easygoing and childish, as an elementary student.

“About what?” he blinked, and it was like a glimmer of relief had breezed across that section of the room because they collectively let go of a breath, smiling affectionately. “Well, it's a code someone left us! They wanted to ask if we could solve this cypher their onii-san had left them while he was on a school trip.”

Genta took out a long slip of paper, and it had weird symbols written on it, and Conan pursed his lips. Clearly there was more to the code, like a key to reading it, or something, but the way of cracking the code was apparent enough. He turned to the Detective Boys once again, who were staring at him with determined eyes full of hope. What’s up with that?

“Is there something else that this onii-san left with the code?” He asked with bated breath, suddenly interested in solving this mystery, which brought an exhilarating rush of blood to his head. Ayumi nodded quickly, while Mitsuhiko looked more hesitant, and it brought a small grimace to the detective-turned-small’s face.

From his pockets, Mitsuhiko brought out another grid of paper with unbeknownst symbols scribbled all over it, in a charted manner, and one glance told Conan everything needed to solve this small code. But the meaning wasn’t something that belonged to a simple cypher some older brother had decidedly left their younger sibling.

And it seemed so personally directed against Conan. No, against...

“Conan-kun?” Ayumi asked hopefully, poking at his hand, and he snapped out of reading too much into it and flashed her a smirk. “Did you solve it?” He nodded smoothly, heart still shadowed by an emotion or another, and the other three Detective Boys flashed him the brightest beam. “...Well, it reads-!”

The sound of the shutting of a door stopped everything Conan was saying, and the other three looked back at the front of the classroom with a start. Seeing that sensei had walked in, everyone shifted from visiting their friend’s desk to going back to their own and sat down behind their escritoire, placing hands on the platform.

Conan watched as his homeroom teacher, named Kobayashi, placed a hand on the desk and unlike usual, pulled out a stick of chalk as she began to write kanji on the blackboard behind her. Swift strokes quickly pieced together a name, readable like it should be, of “Haibara Ai” that worked fine after she placed the chalk down to the table.

That was the moment that Conan’s life changed, with the addition of one person. 

“Let me introduce you to Haibara Ai, or Haibara-san! Say hi, everyone,” Sensei introduced, and the girl whose face was barely kept concealed from the desk stepped forward and looked as petulant as an elementary school girl could look as she grimaced. 

She was pretty for her age, cinnamon-colored hair clipped right at her shoulders straightly but the cut not reaching her messy bangs, and sharply flat eyes the shade between blue and a perfect purple. But that wasn’t what caught Conan’s surprise.

It was the terrible stare she gave him as she glowered, in a stern yet mildly amused way as she saw him looking back in her direction.

He frowned. That was weird.

But as per regulations for his grade, Conan chanted with everyone else, “Welcome to Class 1-B, Haibara-san!” and was alarmed (but not terribly surprised) to find the one open seat to be the single one that lay empty, next to his own.

 

Conan swore that something was up with the new transfer student, and it wasn’t just her name. She had mentioned that she lived around where he did, but he couldn’t recall a “Haibara” family living on that street, and the way that she kept sliding him knowing glances unsettled Conan. His intuition for danger was also tingling, and adding that up with the code from earlier… something was happening, and he didn’t really like it.

They, the Detective Boys, had apparently agreed to walk Haibara home, but Conan didn’t want to concern the kids with anything. Not when he was painstakingly aware that the new student had eyes trailing on him, especially when he was solving whatever mystery needed to be solved by the kids during class.

She seemed competently sharp and stoic, so it came as a surprise when she suddenly bursted into tears, claiming she was afraid of the dark and hated to slip, which made sense considering the rain that was pouring outside today. It wasn’t like Conan could counter it, either, because Haibara did knock over a locker and got herself trapped in it until the teacher found her, where she seemed to be trembling, so fearing the dark seemed natural. Because of this, she ended up somehow guilt tripping them all into escorting her.

“You guys, go home first,” Conan told the three who were sharing two umbrellas between them. “I have something I want to tell Haibara-san.” It was a lie, but the glare that she sent him seemed to confirm that she had something she wanted to tell him, anyways.

After giving him one last frown, the kids ran off, and Haibara and Conan were at the entrance of Teitan Elementary where he grabbed his umbrella and opened it. Shyly, she tugged at his sleeve, and he blinked and her empty hands and realized what she wanted.

But it seemed so against how her face implied her to be, but Conan never was one to judge a person solely by their looks. “Oh, uhm, here, if you want to share an umbrella with me,” he offered, and she didn’t even give him a single look of anything positive as she just pulled into the umbrella and held it over her head. 

After a moment of silence, she seemed to be startled by something and gruffed out, “Thanks,” before lowering the umbrella and adjusting it over her head. Droplets fell by Conan’s feet as the uncomfortable silence nearly overwhelmed him. They walked outside of the school gates in nothing but listening to raindrops and their footsteps, and the occasional flip of the wind. 

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” He finally asked, and Haibara looked at Conan consciously. “You were staring at me earlier.”

“...Not right now,” She answered hesitatingly, not bothering to turn her head. “By the way, do you have a pet?”

It was a rather sudden question, something that caught him off guard, and he added another tally to an internal list on how suspicious Haibara was. “Ran-nee-chan’s mom has a cat named Goro, and they come by sometimes…” he answered truthfully. “I don’t own a pet, though.”

“Then why’s your little pet- or he following us?” She seemed to look at him even more cautiously now, before flicking a thumb to behind her as Conan followed her fingertips, one hand still on the umbrella’s handle. 

Conan’s sapphire eyes met with the terribly familiar and darker hues of Kuroba Kaito, holding a black umbrella over his head, who just grinned as Conan jumped. How had he not noticed the other following him was a mystery in it of itself as he immediately gave an irritated look, which earned a beaming smirk. 

“Kaito-sa-!” He started, before abruptly interrupting his own words, and Conan could practically feel Haibara’s eyes narrow beside him. “Uhm, K-kaito-nii-chan!” He corrected.  “Why’re you following me?”

Kaito pouted in a way that was so undeniably false that Conan could practically grab a feeling of annoyance and stick it on his face. “Aww, so sad that ‘you’ noticed. Normally you don’t, really. And I guess I could answer by saying that I couldn’t help but want to watch a pair of kids sharing an umbrella on a terrifically rainy day- how romantic is that~?” The highschool student’s voice suddenly shifted to a darker tone, and Kaito carefully glanced at the two with an unreadable expression glittering in his indigo eyes.

Conan frowned. Everything about those words felt so off, and something akin to light fear crawled up his spine. As far as he could tell, about one out of five days Kaito trailed after him on his way home, and always Conan confronted him about it to stop following him. ‘Normally you don’t, really’ made the boy tense.

They were practically strangers, really, only knowing each other for less than a month and for some reason Kaito felt compelled to follow this elementary school kid around in his freetime.

It was one of those mysteries that he wanted to clear up about Kaito, but other things required his attention far more than some highschooler harmlessly chasing him around (like any number of cases would) and over time, it started to be slightly normal. Which wasn’t something that Conan wanted. People tailing him should not be anything per the usual, and Kaito hasn’t revealed nearly enough about himself for Conan to conclude that he wasn’t secretly part of that organization.

He knew it was mildly silly; for a mere postgraduate to be part of them, but nobody could ever be too careful. Conan didn’t know the extent of their powers. Kaito, who was relatively carefree and always in a joking or pranking mood could have a dark side to his laughter, and sometimes- just sometimes, or once in a while - he could sense danger oozing from the adolescent and that was when Conan wasn’t sure if Kaito was a good person or not.

“It’s not like that,” Conan sighed, and both Haibara and Kaito gave him a cursory regard. “Kaito-nii-chan, this is Haibara Ai, a new transfer student in my class. Haibara-san, this is Kuroba Kaito, some… random highschooler that I met in a park.”

“Rude~!” The aforementioned teenager pouted. “Not just some ‘random highschooler’. We happen to know each other quite well! I mean, Conan-kun’s a bit cold, but we’re cool.” He gave the younger an exaggerated wink and aggravated, Conan presented him an exasperated gander.

Haibara’s hand on the umbrella tightened, and Conan noticed it because the tension in the atmosphere, even though it was a public area, just rose terribly. 

“...Well?” Haibara asked, and Conan was clemently glad that someone else was just as scunnered about Kaito as he was. “It’s a rainy day. No need to follow two kids around because of some ‘romantic moment’, or something. I just forgot my umbrella.”

With fervor, it became still, dewdrops still falling beside them. 

“...That’s what they all say.” Kaito said, and it was like the winds started blowing them in his favor, because his voice and the temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees south. “But~! I don’t like seeing kids in such terrible irony, so here, take my umbrella.” He handed his umbrella to Conan, who was briefly surprised. Conan stared. “But now you don’t have an umbrella.” Which was stating the obvious, with rain still descending from the haze, and it splattered on Kaito’s blue-toned brown hair.

Kaito just smiled, and took Conan’s hand before passing the canopy for rain to Haibara. She took it with pause and irresolution before letting it take the rain from her head.

“...Well, if that’s all, can you leave?” Haibara asked coldly, her voice bone-chilling, and the highschooler gave her one last look of misgiving afore he nodded frigidly and walked away, no umbrella in hand, and leaving Conan with a sour taste in his mouth.

Maybe he should suspect Kuroba Kaito a little more, after all.

They walked just around the corner to both Haibara and the professor’s house before the night sky turned a royally dark blue, and the entire time the two of them didn’t utter a single word. In courtesy of one highschooler they were holding separate umbrellas and the breeze was light as the rain from above began to come more slowly.

At this point, Conan didn’t know why Haibara was still with him. Clearly she wasn’t actually afraid of the dark with her not bothering to glance anywhere nor showing any sign of fear, and instead kept a concentrated gaze in front of them and Conan could recognize that she was silently telling him to speak, first.

Foremost, Conan addressed the first thought on his mind. “So…” he began quietly, and it was the first that someone’s spoken in a bit. “You said you had something to tell me earlier?”

She ‘tch’ed as if finally getting the response she wanted. “That’s right,” with an air of boredom, she spoke in a manner that sounded like she was soliloquizing. “I’m kind of curious, though; how is your life?” Haibara began.

This life, I’d rather mean. How do you go by, squandering around with kids, pretending to be someone you’re not, and counterfeiting your previous life behind a mask? And I’m not talking to ‘you’, Edogawa Conan. I’m talking to Kudou Shinichi.

Conan froze in the spot, not fully consciously aware that his face had distorted into one of pure horror as blood ran cold in his veins. Slowly, he turned, sapphire eyes turning direly dull with his situation and it felt like everything evaporated in a single second.

With terror, his hand immediately tightened around the handle of the umbrella and shock like no other crawled up upon the deepest crevices of his bones and he wanted to do things- wanted to crawl up into a ball, wanted to push Haibara away, wanted to question her until she gave up how she knew and wanted to hide behind whatever he could to avoid the clear inevitable. What he wanted to avoid this entire time, what he masqueraded as a kid to try to evade- them , perhaps coming to kill him, or hurt those he found dear, and he-!

Quietly, the footsteps stilled, and a small push on his chest brought Conan to look forward blankly at a look of annoyed amusement. “Calm down.” Haibara patted his shoulder and it woke him up, and he sent her a look of utter chilliness. 

“...How can I?” Ghastly, Conan asked, facing Haibara who gave him an air of anything but understanding. It wasn’t pity, or annoyance, or whichever of the sort. “I may be dead tomorrow, right?”

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t be warning you if you’d die. I’d just let it slide by.” 

“...That’s true.” Letting his breath back, Conan touched his own face. His breathing readjusted to normal levels and the heartbeat that was pounding with his chest slowly stilled. “Besides… you… you are….” When his brain was functioning again, everything pieced together like puzzle pieces on a board, and it all added up. Wasn’t she...? He just had to hope.

Haibara raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, that’s quite right. I’m stuck in the same situation as you .”

 

===

 

Never has Heiji looked so complexly shocked as when he returned back to Osaka for the second time. As his childhood and still best friend, Kazuha could say it for certainty, and the look that ghosted the other Osakan’s face was something among the wicked. A cross between stunned surprise, soft affection, and lastly- disbelievement. And it was hard to tell which was which.

Kazuha didn’t really believe that such a sturdy guy like Heiji was so easily disturbed. Something must have happened on the trip to Tokyo, and she didn’t really know, at first.

Heiji refused to talk about his first trip to Tokyo, not after telling Kazuha that he was going to go to the major city to find and challenge Kudou Shinichi- not that Kazuha has ever really heard the other detective before. In her eyes, one super-highschool detective was enough to last her a lifetime, but Heiji was always one to boast after deducing a crime. Because of this and the silence he had, she naturally assumed that he had lost. 

Which came as a heavy surprise to herself when she finally came to the conclusion; after all, Heiji had always been the best detective that she’d ever known, being able to read a person’s actions like he was super-human, or something. He was as sharp as a person should be, with mind-boggling memory and an incredible ability to draw conclusions. 

To think that this Kudou- whoever they were, was able to pass Heiji?

Of course, Kazuha wasn’t an insensitive person, and didn’t speak her thoughts aloud. Heiji seemed more distant recently, glancing off to the distance in his thoughts, and usually chattative young detective that she was used to disappeared for those moments. He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, for instance, always helping Kazuha when she needed it and talked to her about as much as usual, yet the times that he didn’t he was totally silent, and something had changed since Heiji’s first visit to Tokyo. A bit less arrogant now, and a lot more soft.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t question or say anything much when she learned that Heiji was planning to go to Tokyo again, to find Kudou at some Sherlock Holmes Fan’s party. Her chest twisted at the thought of that- especially because she knows that Heiji wasn’t a big Holmes fan, at all, instead favoring the works of Agatha Christie. That he’d go that far, for a party he didn’t like or won’t enjoy, just to meet again some other detective in Tokyo.

But the second time Heiji came back was the actual telling. Again, something in him had changed terribly, and he wasn’t nearly as quiet, instead returning to his old boisterous self. As if his confidence had been regained and he proved himself a detective, or something. 

Kazuha had asked if something good had happened at the party, seeing the large grin on Heiji’s face as he hummed, nose in the pages of a mystery novel by some small-time writer, and the other nodded gleefully. Heiji had replied that he met with Kudou again, but in a different way, and a secret had been revealed- but then grumbled lowly about some magician boy that had the audacity to dye his hair pink. She had then realized that the edges of Heiji’s hair was still a terribly eye-blistering hot pink, contrasting and clashing horribly against his dark hair. How she didn’t notice it before was a mystery in itself.

Then it was all apparent to Kazuha, as cheerfully Heiji talked about how Kudou had solved the first case to Tokyo, the one he had kept under sealed lips until then- laughing, as if getting a weight off his shoulders. 

Kudou was a girl, contrary to what Kazuha believed before, and Heiji had a crush on her!

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. A nuthead like Heiji, falling for someone? A highschool detective, nonetheless?

Actually, once she thought about it, there could be no other match for Heiji but another intellectual. Or at least someone that could keep that Osakan’s arrogance under wraps, because he was a real handful and Kazuha didn’t know how she’d managed to put up with him for so long. And because she was undoubtedly Heiji’s best and only childhood friend, she’ll have to find this Kudou girl and make sure she’s an alright partner for someone like Heiji.

If now… Kazuha could still hope that… No, her mind wasn’t that traitorous and she could let those terribly selfish thoughts all slide. She wasn’t thinking straight, that’s all, and she- She could wash those thoughts off her head. She really could. After all, that’s what best friends are for, and she could even almost believe it.

It’s all too hard to ignore the tug of pain in her chest as she emphasized on simply friendship.

 

Heiji went to Tokyo so often now. Every weekend, or every second weekend, he’d board the train which the line headed to Tokyo, leaving Kazuha a message via a short text on their phones along the lines of “just paying a visit”, but she wasn’t fooled a single bit. Though, admittedly, she wasn’t as sharp as Heiji was, she wasn’t stupid either, and that once she accidently saw Heiji and that small piece of blush he had as the Osakan bought the ticket at the station wasn’t a lie. 

But that tricky detective was too slippery. Kazuha could never catch him before he weaseled his way onto the train, and she could only wait for the weekend to be over so Heiji could be back and she could give up a kick on the head.

The stories he brought back were interesting enough; but he always seemed to cut out Kudou at the center of it, instead rounding the deduction to some kid- Conan? A foreign name?- that, along with an old man detective and a girl, seemed to always also be at the scene of crime.

When she brought it up and pressed him about where Kudou was, a small tinge of bright red downed Heiji's tanned face and those emerald eyes glanced sideways as his voice lowered, hues diverted, and pressed a hand to his neck. As his youngest friend, Kazuha was certain by all means that Heiji only ever does that when he’s embarrassed, or trying to hide something.

Kazuha figured it out, and she didn’t need any super-highschool-detective powers to conjecture it all. Not only was Kudou a female highschool detective that happens to have already made Heiji have a crush on, Kudou also happened to be in a relationship with Heiji! Already!

She applauded herself for deducing it, but it also was painstakingly adverse. And the next time that she could; she was going to go to Tokyo too, to find this Kudou girl and make sure- not anything else- that she was actually good enough. Yes. It was what a best friend should do.

The opportunity came much earlier than she would have expected, because only two weeks after Heiji announced that Kudou’s class happened to have a play going on, and that he was planning to go take a look at their “Romeo and Juliet”. It was so painfully obvious that this Kudou would be playing some major role and that there was a kissing scene, so Heiji was uncomfortable with it and wanted to make sure his girlfriend didn’t do anything wrong. And it just so happened to be that Kazuha liked Romeo and Juliet, so she understood.

He was so obvious! So darned obvious, yet he still hides it behind his Osakan accent and castaway looks, pretending like nothing was wrong as sweat falls down his cheek. Kazuha had pouted and convinced Heiji to buy her a ticket to Tokyo as well, and as hesitant as he was, he had agreed. That slanted look he gave her as she boarded the train was proof enough that Heiji thought it was embarrassing to show his sweetheart his childhood friend. Who was female.

In all honesty, she couldn’t care one bit, and the trip to Tokyo surprisingly wasn’t deathly silent and instead, Heiji and her warmed up for what seemed like the first time in two months. Maybe it was just her, but after going to Tokyo, he seemed too misty, and dreamy, and even bothered to stare outside the window like the protagonist of some story.

With a bright smile, the Osakan even bought her some snacks and drinks that she wolfed down. Unorthodox, yes, but she couldn’t care less as the sweets settled onto her tongue.

When they finally arrived, it was already time for the play, and she couldn’t express how unsurprised she was that Heiji timed it so they would almost be late for the play, the key word being almost. They just barely scraped the mark, the curtains rising just as they got their seats, with Heiji sitting shifting seats suspiciously to sit next to some little boy with brown hair and glasses. She couldn’t really discern it all well in the dark, but Kazuha still found it suspicious yet didn’t focus on it as the play began.

It was classic, and some pretty girl with stunning purple eyes and brown hair, shaped uniquely over her head, dressed in a white wedding dress and playing the role of Juliet gracefully as she acted to her heart’s content. That voice was perfection at its finest with how she sang like a bard with his harp, and she was dazzling as she pure heartedly spoke lines for some mysterious knight, dressed in blue, that didn’t bother showing his face and instead acted almost better than she did. At last, right before the curtains close, they exchange a rather intimate hold and embrace each other with something akin to true, perfect affection.

Kazuha felt her face heat up. Does Heiji want to… she dropped the train of thought at the discomposed, flushed look of her detective friend as he passionately stared at the two on stage, and she realized what was up.

The girl with the purple eyes, playing Juliet- she was Kudou! And Heiji was jealous, uneasy but envious, of that guy clad in knight’s armor. It made Kazuha feel slightly… no, she patted her own cheeks internally. No need for thoughts like that. Just have to be Heiji’s best friend, no more, no less, and don’t-!

An ear-splitting scream echoed throughout the gym, as someone fell dead on his seat, lifeless and a breathless hush of a corpse.

 

The body was gone. It all ended.

Finally. Yes, it was fine. 

How did Heiji always look past these corpses? How was he so composed, after seeing death? She shook her head. No, she got what she wanted. Calm down. It was alright.

Kazuha glanced at the boy in the knight outfit, now laughing with the highschool girl (that wasn’t Kudou), Ran. Alright. So, she could understand that he was breathtaking in appearance, especially with those bright sapphire eyes and classically handsome look. He was smart, too, and worthy of being called Heiji’s rival, and better yet- worthy of beating him. He solved the murder a times quicker than the other did and said it smoothly, finding evidence and weaving together as a plausably brilliant deduction.

But that wasn't surprising news.

It was that… KUDOU WAS MALE! It was groundbreaking! Nothing explained the look of stunned awe that Heiji had when he took off his helmet, or the blush that crawled on his face, other than that he really did have a crush on Kudou! So, this all added up in a way that Kazuha didn’t expect.

Her deduction was perfectly spot-on. The only difference? Kudou wasn’t a girl.

He was a guy.

Kazuha slapped herself in the face, before going off to tease Heiji, with pain in her heart.

 

====

 

There had been rumors, recently, of a phantom thief hounding the night, using the guise of the full moons to commit various thieveries around town. Kaitou 1412, they called him, a gentleman thief who wore pure white and had real magic which he performed like a magician with his shows. Or, better yet known by many other names, the most notably being the one which he was most called upon. Kaitou Kid.

Apparently, he was a thief even greater than that of the Night Baron. This had Conan mildly interested, but he couldn’t care much for that, right now. Quietly, he stared off. Maybe one day, they’ll cross paths, and fight in a battle of wits- detective against phantom thief.

Perhaps. 

He sighed. There was too much on his mind right now.

 

=====

 

He was at the professor’s house. Next to his own. And tired, he winced as a voice drifted in the air. “Do you remember what I told you, at the start!?” A loud tone followed by an explosion and a wholeheartedly childish groan. “Professor…”

“Oops. Sorry…” He looked at the scorch mark warily, before directing his attention back at him. “Anyways! Still!” Unlike the joyful tone of before, and it was the first time Conan- as both Conan and Shinichi- got chills from the jolly inventor Professor Agasa. “You can’t tell anyone that you’re actually Shinichi! Or else that organization might come and- and-!”

“Calm down!” Conan called, patting Agasa’s back. “I’m fine! I don’t think the news has gone out that Kudou Shinichi has appeared! Really! And…” he wistfully looked down. “Now Ran knows I’m still alive and fine, and she also now thinks that I’m not Conan!”

Agasa’s concern softened. “I guess so… Just so you know, Shinichi… if you ever need help, you can always come to me.”

Conan gave him a small smile.

“Yeah… thanks. Oh…. uh, I guess I do have something-!”

Just as he was about to tell Agasa about Akemi Miyano, his phone began ringing, and incredulously Conan’s hand wandered to his phone. He frowned. The ringtone… it wasn’t Conan’s phone. It was Shinichi’s phone, and the number displayed on it was…

The call ended before it even began and as soon as it happened, the screen lit up bright blue again, and immediately Conan pressed the button to pick up, with Agasa looking curiously over his shoulder, trying to hear.

“Ran…?” Quietly, he asked, fumbling for his voice changer, and he got shocked into oblivion by the sound of rasped, heavy pants, and loud footsteps. Clunking noise echoed somewhere and the sound of… glass shattering…?

Something was wrong. That was clear enough.

“S-Shinichi!” As if just realizing he picked up, Conan could hear her desperately trying to keep her voice down as she held the phone tightly in an over despairing grip. “Help…!”

Immediately Conan slammed his hands on the table, making Agasa jump in surprise, but he paid it less than no mind. “Ran! Are you okay? Where are you?” A hoard of questions rambled out of his mouth and he couldn’t think- Ran, Ran, Ran, was she alright?

“I-I’m.. At the docks! A woman in black with platinum hair … she’s… trying to help me hide, against two men that we’ve seen at the amusement park, also wearing black , like crows…!” She coughed, making Conan’s heart lunge. “They have guns... ! Shinichi-!”

The line cuts off abruptly.

Notes:

A shorter chapter than usual, but it's because chapter II is really, really long, and putting all that into one chapter was way too long to be alright, and I couldn't find another place to divide this chapter, so I apologize about that.

I honestly despise this part. I also realize the amount of plotholes I left for myself in former chapters that I have to fill in here. But! Character introductions are ALMOST over, just have Sharon to re-introduce, Sera to do so, and a few others (Like Rei-kun) that will be discussed later. I think this chapter is terribly written, but what can I say? I'm excited for the actual story to begin.

Yes, I am AWARE there are things wrong in this story. The first is the rearrangement of timelines, and this is INTENTIONAL. I know that canonically, Kid appears before the whole Akemi Miyano and Ai Haibara business, but I have my own reasons for changing it up. Also, I have left a few inconsistencies in this chapter on purpose for some of the more eagle-eyed readers out there to find. If you see it, congratulations. It'll be easy to guess some of the later events, but the clues are certainly already out there for you to find.

Thanks for reading, and for the hits, kudos, and comments! If there is any mistakes, please tell me! I have no beta.

Chapter 4: II Part II

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter II Part II

 

She could have seen this coming. No, she should have been able to predict that something was horribly wrong as soon as the first few red flags had been raised in her mind. Still, she brushed them off like they were nothing and Ran couldn’t help but regret it all as she clutched the phone, desperately watching the screen glow and echo a lowly ring, waiting for Shinichi to pick up.

The first tocsin in her brain was the mysterious letter in the mailbox. It wasn’t too often that her father received job requests, but they have been getting more frequent now, and Ran couldn’t express how happy she was for her dad. Even her mom, Eri, was pleased, though she didn’t show it, and she hadn’t seen him so happy in ages. 

Strangely enough, the letter that she had received had been, curiously, addressed to Mouri Ran instead of the great detective Kogoro. Though they technically shared a mailbox due to being father and daughter, rarely anything was given to her specifically. 

The second danger indicator was probably the contents of the letter. A single, simple line, Come meet me at the docks when the clock strikes ten, alone, and signed off with a single-alphabetted name. C. At first, Ran was really confused, and also suspiciously unconcerned. C? She didn’t, as far as she could remember, know anyone named that, and she was pretty sure she could recall if she ever had an acquaintance named that.

In the end, her strangely piqued curiosity overruled all of that and she didn’t even tell anyone. No, she tricked her head. She did leave a short text to Shinichi unsent, but it was because Ran really didn’t want to worry him. Shinichi was busy enough on his own, and it didn’t seem like he ever had time to just sit and talk to her now… 

Curiosity killed the cat, they said.

She really did, at one point, think that Shinichi was Conan. There were just too many similarities, like their faces, those sharp, intelligent sapphire eyes that screamed the truth, and how Conan cleverly led her dad through cases at first. Then, the exact same dates for birthdays had been another small stretch that yet again, supported her hunch. Lastly, the blood types… it had been the confirming piece of the puzzle in her brain to find that she really could donate blood to Conan. At that point, it didn’t seem like mere speculation anymore.

There was just no denying it to herself. Edogawa Conan was Kudou Shinichi, somehow, and he didn’t even want to tell Ran. It pained her to know that she meant that little of a… friend, to him, but she was sure Shinichi had his reasons. He always did.

That proposition was the one Ran kept closest to her heart all that time, but something stunning came from the heavens. As if to contradict her, the knight which she had played her part of the play with- covered with a handsome mask- was Shinichi. In the flesh. And she couldn’t actually express how relieved it made her that Shinichi did trust her, that he was different from Conan, that he wasn’t keeping secrets- so she chose to believe in him.

He believed in her, too.

Those were the thoughts which were whipped out of her head as the sun began to set, and that was when she decided to go along with the letter- so unwise, now that she was stuck in this situation and thought about it- and left to the docks via a taxi. Alone, it said, so she didn’t even tell her dad- just briefly mentioned that she was going out. He had looked at her inquisingly but didn’t press as she pushed open the door.

The docks were empty at first, just a single light brightening against the dark waters that looked like an empty abyss when the sun had set. Ran looked over the pool of liquid and mistily, she wondered who had sent the note. Maybe she was being strange today, or something, because that didn’t even cross her mind before she had come. 

Flickering, the lampposts died slightly, and immediately Ran turned in shock, purple eyes widening as a long black car pulled up on the concrete, next to her. Luckily, she reminded herself that she was wearing a lot of knitted clothes, because the cool weather just somehow dropped five degrees with the arrival of the vehicle. The ominous looking car brought a bad feeling to Ran. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come, after all?

Two tall men dressed in black, one pale and lean with long, platinum-silver hair, the other tanned, bulky, and roughly-built in scale, came out of the car pulled up against her and Ran’s hues immediately scanned them. This wasn’t good- no, it seemed… dangerous, somehow . And even worse, she didn’t think she could fight and come out unharmed.

Sure, the thin man, maybe she could take down, but the other seemed too strength-based for close-contact fighting, like the type that Ran was used to. She bit her lip, bracing herself. But her head didn’t feel right today, and even she could admit it at that moment. Eyes fluttering, she realized that her head felt foggier than before. What was happening? The drowsiness Ran felt wasn’t something normal right now... She also wasn’t exactly aware of her head spinning like this, before, and surely that wind blowing by her ears didn’t exist just a few short moments ago?

“Is this her?” The silver-haired man asked, staring at Ran with such uncaring intensity that it made her flinch. With concentration, the other glared at her through... sunglasses, at night, and nodded quickly, bringing out a pen. “No questions. It's her. Mouri Ran .”

A sudden smile, large and frightening and Ran felt truly scared as he brought out something out of his pocket. A silver machinery, pointed and curved and engraved with images of death, clearly gripped many times before.

A gun, which was pointed right to her heart.

Spasms started to go through her chest and she gripped her hand fiercely. Why were her legs weak? Ran didn’t know but she really couldn’t bring herself to care much as immediately she did the first thing to come to her mind: to attend a defensive stance and extend her legs and put her hands up, bringing arms to her chest.

The silver-haired man started laughing, in an inhumane voice and if not for the metallic gun pointed at her face she could have even called it a genuine laugh. But she knew better, even if she did feel kind of cloudy, and if the scowl that slowly drawled across her face was a clue she would say that she was even angered. Ran wasn’t, normally, so it felt weird for such a grave sense of emotion to spark up in her chest, and a sudden question bloomed across her head.

“Who’re you?” Something was strange- the slurred words that came out of her mouth weren't quite as normal as she was used to. Did it have something to do with the abnormalities currently circulating through her body? Though she didn’t really have as much of a leveled head as normal, and her amethyst-like eyes were droopy, she could still fight if she needed to- and by the machinery directed at her face, she could certainly say she would need to.

Without answering, the silver-haired man took a step forward, followed by another and another and another before he was in near-reach distance. Ran’s senses sharpened, like it always did when she felt a rush of adrenaline through her veins during a martial arts match- and she could practically follow each and every movement with her eyes, glistening.

The shadowy figures around- were they truly there?- made it hard to see and she could slightly feel her head clearing up, analyzing her situation. It was worse than she originally thought. She was at the docks- didn’t call anyone, doesn’t have a way to escape safely, is unarmed against two presumably stronger men handed with guns.

She could try to get out through the waves but it was unreliable. Ran wasn’t a bad swimmer at all; she wasn’t bad at any sport, really, but that didn’t mean she could trust herself enough to swim across or through an ocean in the darkness of the night. Her greatest attribute was her strength rather than agility, and stamina was one thing that she had slowly built up but not enough to give Ran enough confidence to do such a task.

What would Shinichi do right now…?  

That was the throught on her mind. Shinichi was childish and too-straightforward and sweetly petty, but he always ended up doing the right thing. Always went to the conclusion which guaranteed- and did- the most good, and ensured his own survival. If he was here… if only he was here, then maybe…?

“Don’t think so much.” With a small chuckle, the man pointing a gun to her head said and she snapped out of it. With large eyes she blinked and the thoughts and hesitations whirling in her mind faded- she had to pull through this like she promised she would always do so. For Sonoko, for her dear parents Kogoro and Eri, for Conan, and for Shinichi…!  

Like lightning the man dashed over to Ran and pressed the nozzle of the gun right to the side of her head. A small tremble went through her body and she stared robotically and couldn’t move- she couldn’t, wouldn’t, can’t die here.

Can’t. Not if...

Curtly, the man stared down at her with horrifying eyes and Ran flinched. The raspy voice came out again and she barely stopped her foot. “I told you not to think,” he started, “but it's fine. You have one- and only one chance to live, Mouri Ran.”

She gulped. “And that is…?” Cautiously she asked and if the look in those green eyes were anything to go by, she would say he was amused.

“Tell us all you know about Kudou Shinichi.”

The words made her heart sink. That was the only thing she couldn’t and wouldn’t do- Shinichi acted strong, but Ran knew that he couldn’t fend himself off here. Ran needed a plan. But how to stall long enough for everything to happen…?

Seeing her hesitation, the grip on the gun tightened and the nozzle pointed at her head edged closer to her eyes and nose and she tensed. “Don’t even think about fighting back. I know that you’re a martial arts specialist, but we can try to see who's faster- your limbs, or my single finger on the trigger.” It was like he was a dagger, stabbing straight through all hope as it faltered. “I won’t ask again. What do you know about Kudou Shinichi?”

A bead of cold sweat dropped from her face and finally her head felt clear and she blinked, mildly mystified by what possibly could have cursed her enough to come to the docks alone by such a shady letter. How do I stall until an opportunity!? Her thoughts raced and Ran settled on playing dumb. “Kudou Shinichi…?” Quietly she asked before drawing back. “Why do you want information on Shinichi?”

The silver-haired man pursed his terribly pale lips. “That is none of your business.” He started. “He is ours to begin with, so talk. ” The finger edged ever so closely to the brink of the trigger… “A-Aniki…” Finally, the other man in the back spoke, coming closer as well and Ran’s eyes narrowed. It would be a lot harder to fight both of them, so she needed to say something to distract the other, more muscle-heavy guy from coming.

“Alright, fine!” She started. “Shinichi’s been my friend! My childhood friend since I was four! He had an accident when he was ten, and he got amnesia at that time! Now he’s a famous highschool detective!” It was all the information that anyone could find online. She had to stick to the cover that they gave her, and Ran won’t betray Shinichi. Not after everything.

Not after falling in love with the highschool detective. He was an oblivious dunce who probably saw their relationship as nothing but platonic affection and siblingship, but she didn’t think so. It won’t slip past her fingers. Ran would rather die than give up on Shinichi.

But it seemed like her luck had finally run out.

“Useless girl, is that it? Daring to give us false information?” The man’s voice now seethed with a chilling anger. “Don’t lie to my face, Ran Mouri. I know he’s our Kirsche. Rum and that man demands we bring him back to us above all else.” Like the sound of scraping against metal it terribly screeched at Ran’s ears to hear each word. Like her ears were bleeding.

“Kir...sche?” 

As if finally realizing what he had said, that man flinched backwards. “That is enough for you.” The finger immediately curled, and Ran knew for certain when an iron-felt chill screamed tenderly like flesh being lovingly cut on her spine. Her body wasn’t warm anymore, not at the temperature normally. It felt cold, and she could have sworn that she had hypothermia, surroundings deceiving her of her fully-dressings.

She was going to die.

 

“Gin.” A voice called out right before Ran felt her heart stop. Or burst. Or something. She didn’t know. All that she did recognize was that the gun at her head rescinded a little bit and immediately Ran turned her head to see a woman, dressed in full black, looking at the exchange from the top of a ship, sailing along the waves.

The silver-haired man- presumably Gin, now that Ran had calmed down just a little- had ‘tch’ed and the other man who called Gin “aniki” immediately flinched. Now that Ran had a look, the woman standing on the ship was really beautiful.

Her features were clearly that of a model, her skin perfectly smooth and deathly pale like she was on her own sick deathbed. Her nose was perfectly sculpted, tall and pointed, and her lips here painted with a glistening purple lipstick, sparkling in the moonlight. Her figure was lean and posed, tall and perfect in every curve and beyond all that was her turquoise eyes, shining with intelligence and sinful death. For someone clearly foreign, she spoke the Japanese tongue far more perfectly than most country-citizens did. 

Above all else, her deathly beauty was ethereal. Kind of like one other mystery geek Ran knew, but more in a gracefully delicate way.

She missed being able to say that to his face.

“Vermouth.” Bitterly, Gin said out, and waved the hand which wasn’t curled around the handle of the gun. Immediately, as if receiving a signal, grabbed out a gun and pointed it close to the woman- Vermouth’s- feet.

She blinked. Gin? Vermouth? Ran thought, consideringly calm through the gun at her head. Aren’t those alcohols? Or perhaps they were the codenames that they were given. Her breath, unusually steady, suddenly stilled and her pupils dilated.

No way… It's them. Now that she thought about it, she recognized that silver-haired man, Gin, and the other guy. They were at the amusement park too, on the roller coaster case, and it was the day… that Shinichi had gone missing. It had also been the day that Conan arrived.

Are they all… connected? If only she was Shinichi. He would have no trouble taking the threads of all of these events and tying them together to not only a plausible conclusion- but the truth, all in mere seconds. Alcoholic codenames. People dressed in black, looking for a person called Kirsche. The Roller Coaster Murder Case. His terrible disappearance. What they said to her that night. Edogawa Conan. The deductions of Sleeping Kogoro. And the key that locks everything together….

...is Kudou Shinichi.

Her eyes widened. It's all so clear to her now. Was this how Shinichi always felt? The rush of blood, going through her veins and reining him in through the deduction? If so, then Ran finally understood a little bit on why he was such a detective case-solving otaku. Except all of those suspicions she had before just was confirmed in her head and she didn’t really want to believe that Shinichi wanted to hide this much against Ran.

“Don’t shoot her, Gin.” Vermouth said, breaking Ran out of her thoughts and she flinched. “Mouri Ran doesn’t know about Fubuki. I know this as a fact.” But this Fubuki was the one piece of the puzzle that Ran couldn't figure out. Who is Fubuki? And how come she doesn’t know, and Vermouth is so certain about this all?

Eyeing the pale woman, Gin’s expression became chillingly frigid as he sighed and retracted his gun slowly, as if doubting he was about to do this. Bitterly speaking, he gave her a look that promised a tortuous death otherwise. “I guess if you even say so, fine. You are the most obsessive over Kirsche.” His voice suddenly lowered, and he added with a frightening smile that gave Ran goosebumps over fear. “But… Do you have some reason for protecting Mouri Ran?”

“...No.” A curt response as turquoise eyes narrowed and she pursed her purple lips. “Just go, Gin. Rum says that Bourbon has sent him a message saying that he might have found a lead to the other mission.” The silver-haired man looked angry at this and pocketed the gun, exchanging it for a phone which he read the top message of. 

“Fine. But one more business before I go.” A sudden smirk crossed his face like ice and the gun that was just put in his pocket came out once more, and this time Ran knew for certain that all hesitation was gone as Gin gave a hearty smile. “She knows far too much now, Mouri Ran. At least Corpses don’t talk, right?”

“Wait-!” Vermouth shouted, reaching a hand and immediately exiting the deck- but it was too late. Gin had fired.

 

Her world stilled. She was still alive. Breathing.

Somehow. The bullet had gone through her shoulder and it was bleeding- terribly, the crimson dripping all over the shoulder and she had just narrowly avoided a fatal shot to the head. It hurt. Pained her like never before, and Ran’s breaths came out in heavy pants as she tried to focus her eyes and stop the stars from flying across them.

A gentle, non-rough hand took her own wrist and dragged it, Ran’s head barely working from the pain as those hands touched the side of her face as someone was whispering in her ear. The hands were smooth and terribly pale and more than all else, icy cold, and she felt a bit sick.

“Angel. Angel, calm down. ” A voice called and finally she was brought back to her senses- she didn’t want to be. It hurt more this way and, and, it hurt to the point where everything else in the world seemed meaningless and pale in comparison. “Listen. Be quiet. We’re going to hide you here, away from Gin and Vodka. Contact your Shinichi-kun and get him to save you.”

With a clearer plan in mind, slowly Ran’s brain came back wired and in no rush she brought out her phone, tapping the number she marked as Shinichi’s. The familiar buzz tone helped calm down her hyperventilation and the panic spasms that went through her body abruptly paused as she stared into nothing. Pick up, Shinichi!

The first time he didn’t, and angry at the mystery otaku she pressed the number again, letting the number for calling show on the screen as she was sure Shinichi was doing something. Please pick up. I.. I…

....I need you.

As if a higher power had heard her prayers, the call went through and the first word she hears is her own name. “Ran…?” Shinichi’s voice felt so comforting. An air of familiarity in the dangerous world, and she noticed how Vermouth gave the phone an intense look but didn’t say a word, and Ran couldn’t bring herself to care any more than she had to. Glass shattered behind her and she was scared now. Of the smallest movement, of her hunger and survival, of her own shadow following Ran, and she knew- they were coming closer. 

“S-Shinichi!” Heavy breathing came out of her mouth as she tried to speak and it came out raspy and desperate- but she needed it. “Help…!” Ran gripped the phone tightly, listening melodically to the gunshot in the back.

Immediately an answer came, and it was warm enough to make her feel slightly better. “Ran! Are you okay? Where are you?” The true worry in his voice was horrifying, knowing that Shinichi was never terrified. Not even when they were ten, hiding from a man with a knife- But there was no time to think about that now as she stared at the ocean from behind the box.

“I-I’m at the docks!” She exclaimed quietly, or as small of a voice as she could currently muster. “A woman with platinum hair… she’s… trying to help me hide against two men that we’ve seen at the amusement park, also wearing black, like crows…!” The first reference in her mind, she spoke aloud. “They have guns…! Shinichi-!” The last word was more of a prayer and she could hope. Wish. Platinum hair fell past her ears and she stared at the woman, pressing her face closer than comfortable.

The woman, who now Ran recognizes as Vermouth- one of them- why is she helping Ran- took the phone out of Ran’s trembling hands and stared at the phone with eyes that scarily and perfectly concealed all of her emotions. Her face seemed so emotionless now and those turquoise eyes looked colder than ever. Who?

As if hesitating, the last thing she did was sigh and clicked the red End Call button on the phone, eyes seeming almost sad while doing so . Immediately Ran reconsidered the idea that this Vermouth was a friend and not a foe. But then why was she helping? Was it all a deliberate plan to set Ran up and give up the information she did know? As if reading her thoughts, Vermouth gave a breathy and quiet smile. “Relax. I’m not against you.” 

Tensing, Ran debated if she could trust Vermouth or not. She decided against it. 

“Then why’d you cut off the line…?” Sometimes it was better to be terribly straightforward, and it was exactly what Shinichi would do at the moment. It seemed like Vermouth didn’t expect her to be so bold because those seemingly apathetic eyes widened with surprise. She laughed slightly, pressing against her perfectly modeled face to Ran’s own.

Vermouth tipped her head. “You really think bringing in the one boya that they are looking for is the way to do this?” She then shook her face, letting icy blonde curls fly in all directions. “It doesn’t matter what your motive is at this point, Angel. I am not letting you drag him into this mess.” And her eyes became frigid, her posture and features perfectly relaxed as the grip around Ran’s phone tightened before it snapped in half.

Hope drained away before Ran realized that Vermouth was right. But knowing Shinichi… he would come rushing over now, even if he isn’t in the best of conditions, to save her. 

Another shot of gunfire came and all of that faded from her head. Heavy pitter-patter came and droplets fell next to her legs. Was it raining? It might be, because the silver moon became clouded in a single instant and the winds came from a sweet breeze to chilling and roaring, freezing right at her bones. 

“Tell me, Vermouth-san…” Ran used the nickname and didn’t know how to react as the woman in question tensed at the name. If the icy glare she was sent was anything to go by- she shouldn’t use the name ever again. “Did you people do something to me? I don’t know… I… usually I don’t think I would be compelled to come to the docks without informing anyone first.”

Vermouth snicked. “I guess so, yes.” She paused slightly, suddenly putting a palm along Ran’s mouth, covering it as her back quietly pressed closer to the crate. “I did hear that Gin had him sneak a little something. But I didn’t think that he’d actually be able to do it. Angel, you will have to be more careful from now on.”

She ignored the nickname. Where have I been called ‘Angel’ before? “He?” Instead, she asked, and Vermouth’s eyes narrowed with bitter distaste. 

“Someone with a terribly big ego, thinking that just simply mediocre-work and being inactive for a few years could be possibly enough to claim the light.” She glanced down and the sea-green eyes of Vermouth pierced through Ran, unsettling her as she swallowed down all other questions. “But don’t concern yourself with that. Besides, I’m sure you have more pressing matters to be interested in.” Blinking, she looked straight at Ran again. “Oh, but don’t think that you possibly can’t live... The only problem is that Gin is an unreasonable and uncontrollable beast. If he’ll just listen to logic for once… oh, shh , be quiet.”

What the model-like person said was cryptic and she didn’t understand it at all. Mediocre work? Big ego? Claiming light? All of it was in riddles that she couldn’t comprehend- didn’t know if it was possible for her to comprehend it, and she let it go. Maybe she can ask Shinichi later. 

Vermouth pressed a finger to Ran’s lips and fingers touched her forehead- it relaxed her, comforted her, somehow, and she almost smiled. It reminded her of a simpler time-

- Are those footsteps…?

 

=

 

“Kusou-! Agasa-hakase, drive me to the docks with your Beetle-!” Disconnected from reality, Conan said, eyes unfocused. His hands tapped impatiently on the overweight professor’s leg and the latter gave a panicked stare. “I can’t! I left my car with a friend because they asked for it- Shinichi-kun, what do we do- how do we save Ran-kun?”

His sapphire eyes narrowed and he swore that all the luck was against him- and without hesitation Conan bolted from his seat, leaping straight to the door with a hand on the professor’s lab coat sleeve, dragging him along despite his small stature. “It’s obvious-! I’ll run there; no, I’ll use the turbo skateboard, Agasa-hakase, come with me- no, no, no, actually don’t do that.” Conan winced disconcerted and agitatedly. “ Darn it! What is with me, my head isn’t thinking straight right now.” 

He closed his eyes, not wanting to waste a moment. Ran… she could be in danger right now and his senses of blood were tingling terribly. “ Kudou Shinichi. ” He commanded himself, feeling how his uprising and panic-stricken heartbeat slowly becalmed itself. “Calm down. Have a cool, rational head. A cool, rational head. ” His own words made the blood rise back where it was supposed to be, and when at last he opened his eyes to see the face of one delicately surprised professor, he let words loose of his mind. 

“Agasa-hakase, stay here, call the police, protect Haibara. If those men in black… if that organization is around here… they might not be arriving just for Ran. Why was Ran attacked by them to begin with? “In fact… they might be here for Sherry, too. If she comes down and finds me missing, tell her to stay inside and keep a disguise handy, along with the useful ones of your gadgets, explain the situation to her, and above all else- keep her safe .”

Perplexed for a mere moment, the professor Agasa let the information wash over his brain and Conan could see the brain cells and gears turning in his head as he slowly nodded. Finally, he looked down at Conan with eyes more concerned than nearly all times the detective had ever seen before, gently patting him. “Will do, Shinichi…” he started, pulling out his phone to dial the police. “Stay safe… but will you be fine without me?” He asked and Conan paused.

The wind blew through the opened door, and his hands were cold from gripping the knob so hard.

“...Of course. It is me we’re talking about,” Conan joked, giving as much of a laugh as he could- the rest sounding very artificial, even to his own ears. Agasa’s eyes softened and without words, he let off another sad smile too. “Of course.”

Strangely, those words brought a small frown to Conan’s small face. “This is kind of unsettling- the most adult-like I’ve seen you in years, Agasa-hakase.” He laughed, a bit more genuine this time, and the professor seemed slightly surprised at the idea. “I guess you’re really reliable in a pinch. See you soon.”

With that, Conan waved in a flash and rushed out the door and could feel an outstretched hand nearly touching the edges of the fabric for his clothes before pulling back- the professor knew that when he put his mind to doing something, Conan- Shinichi- won’t ever give up until he accomplished what he wanted.

But those thoughts were unneeded right now. Ran was in danger . He recalled as fast as his brain could run, all the words she had told him, trusting his memory more than he ever relied on it before. The docks, he reminded himself greatly. 

The docks were far too far to reach quickly on his own but calling a taxi wasn’t an option, not when Conan opened his pockets to find his wallet missing and cash gone. Darn his luck. Fortune always seemed to fail him when it counted the most- he didn’t recall getting anything better than “normal luck” (it was normally worse) in the fortune draws for the last five years. Running wasn’t an option- way too slow, and by the time he arrived Ran might already… no, he couldn’t let himself think like that. Won’t. Without a second thought he activated the turbo skateboard, kicking up the golden glow and putting a foot onto the board, soaring across meters in mere milliseconds.

He went past buildings, barely recognizing the streets, passing by- only barely coming to a stop in front of the most familiar one of all. A large apartment-like structure, with the words Mouri Detective Agency sprawled along the top windows in large, clearly self-painted text.

Hesitation was a dangerous thing, especially in this situation, but Conan couldn’t help but do so as he stared at the windows wistfully. Should he tell the old man? He wasn’t always the most responsibly dependable, but he truly gave it his all for his daughter.

The indecision disappeared and evaporated in a single moment as a car suddenly pulled up in front of the agency building, and a woman that Conan had never seen before came out. She had light hair, bordering blonde save for the strokes of brown that clearly struck her as a visitor from a foreign country. Her eyes were sharp and a scarily empty blue, one of a woman who could shoot a person without any pause when needed, framed by large glasses similar to the shape of Conan’s own gadget ones. The woman’s lipstick was a coral color, pairing well with her fair skin as she walked up to the agency, hand only pausing on the handle of the door as Conan called.

“Who are you!?” He couldn’t possibly wait but there was always a chance that this woman was also a part of them and- and- things could be worse than Conan originally thought. Surprised, she turned, staring upwards but then realizing that the one who spoke to her was shorter than her line of sight and stared down, eerily cold blue eyes meeting sapphire orbs.

“Oh… ahh, bozu, do you happen to know a Mouri Ran?” She asked and Conan’s eyes widened. It felt like his worst fears were being confirmed in front of his eyes because immediately Conan crouched downwards, keeping himself in a low stance where he could do something if he could. “...And what if I do…?”

Those chilling blue eyes narrowed, before she suddenly smiled warmly, so falsely against how the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Hi , little boy. I’m Jodie Starling, Mouri-san’s teacher.” Using a sour mix of Japanese and English she spoke. Oh. She did mention something like that; having a foreign teacher who was fluent in English, eccentric, and outwardly blossoming kind, with a sharp streak. “I’m actually looking for Mouri-san because she left some paperwork for her guardian at school. Do you know where she currently is?”

He debated lightly on if he should tell the truth; eyes carefully looking for traces of what a person does when they are lying. If she is an organization member, though, she hid it extremely well to the point where criminal psychology almost seemed not to apply. No careful tense of muscle, no impulsive habits, not even a twitch in the eye or a lip lick. It seemed so genuine, too, and the most genuine he’d seen of her so far.

Then again, if she was one of them, she shouldn’t be looking for Ran here. Instead, she should be at the docks, or going there at the moment. And the car could be extremely useful at the moment; Conan could get to the docks far faster than he could with his skateboard.

“Ran-nee-chan’s at the docks…” He started, and then pointed to the car with large eyes, stilling all movements in the tone of his voice. “I’m actually also looking for her! Uh, she told me she’s stuck at the docks, though, so could you drive me there with your car?”

The teacher, Starling, looked doubtful enough as her eyes finally gave out a small dim. But she carefully glanced at the car before looking back at Conan’s crystal eyes, and all of that seemed hidden enough. “Of course,” she smiled in the end and opened up the car door.

There was already a man inside. Clearly older, with gray hair, tall and well-built, and a moustache that clearly differentiated him as being foreign-influenced too. “James,” the teacher said- suddenly switching to English- “Change of plans. We’re going to the docks with this- oh,” suddenly changing back to Japanese, she started. “What’s your name?”

He felt vacillation at telling a potential organization member- but he couldn’t lie right now, not if he ends up regretting it later. Besides, they don’t know about the existence of “Edogawa Conan” quite yet- after all, his alias isn’t supposed to actually exist. Conan gave a small, kid-like smile, trying to ease the rushed thoughts in his mind.

“Hi, Starling-sensei, I’m Edogawa Conan.” He introduced himself smoothly. Better than he had ever been able before. He’s been told he’s a terrible liar, and even worse at trying to hide something, but when he needed to bluff, Conan’s always been good at it.

She waved for him to enter the car of which he did, settling down into the seats and the sinking feeling told Conan that these cars were expensive. There was also the faint scent of cigarettes or something burning, and the windows were strangely more frosted than normal, Japanese windows. Well, understandable, but the various box or container-like structures hidden throughout the car bothered Conan. It was all too easy to hide a gun, and the whiff of gunpowder that barely graced his nose probably wasn’t a lie.

So the teacher wasn’t just some normal teacher, for sure, not in the confident way she carried herself and how she wore clothing that, though formal and tight on her body, clearly had several places to stash a pistol. Perhaps it was how she always smelt but there was a steady smell of strong shampoo, and the bruises- particularly the placement of the bruises on her hands- made Conan’s ocean-like eyes narrow.

A string of words coming from her accented lips brought Conan back to reality and he stared upwards. “Conan-kun, is it? Well, no need for the heavy formalities. Just Jodie-sensei is fine.” Jodie smiled truthfully, perhaps realizing the intense stare Conan was giving to his surroundings. “Why is Mouri-san at the docks, anyways?”

He paused again. 

This was the most critical thing. He had exactly four options, all of which had a great chance of turning against him and making the teacher and her friend suspicious of him.

The first was to answer truthfully, and take his chances, hoping that Jodie wasn’t as evil as she appeared to be, which would be a terrible gamble- anyone with a gun shouldn’t be trusted so easily. Second would be to lie and make up something on the spot, to give another reason for why Ran would be at the docks, and see if they actually believe him, and the third would be to divert her attention to another matter. The fourth and the last option would be to feign innocence; pretend he doesn’t know a thing, like “ Ran-nee-chan only told me she’s at the docks!”

What do I do…?

Luckily, he didn’t have to choose, because Jodie’s phone rang at that exact moment, giving Conan breathing room as she picked it up. Her voice suddenly switched to English and the abrupt change made Conan miss the first two words, but at least he refocused to hear the rest of the exchange as her voice went from calm to agitated in the span of a few seconds.

“What?” Jodie exclaimed, suddenly gripping her phone tightly. “A pair of men in black were spotted at the docks of Beika? It's fine, Shuu, I’m actually heading there right… now…”

With sudden suspicious eyes she stared down at Conan, before something seemed to cross her mind and instead she seemed to dismiss the idea that was circulating through her mind. Though he was a kid, Conan didn’t lose the same deduction ability he had when he was Shinichi- he could seem to trail the perhaps not-so-legitimate teacher’s thoughts.

Hearing that a pair of men, dressed in a crow-like black, clearly was surprised. That didn’t dismiss the idea that she was still a part of the organization- from what Conan heard through the call from Ran, a woman was protecting her. No stranger would protect Ran unless they knew that the dangerous people wouldn’t shoot them, especially when the suspicious looking men had guns . Which meant that the woman mentioned was part of the organization and wasn’t aware that the men in black would do this to Ran tonight. It proved that the organization was scattered, that they weren’t all perfectly aware of each other’s moves.

Then, Jodie realized that the docks were where they were at. Which precisely lined up with where Conan told her where Ran was; and connecting the two she looked down at Conan, perhaps assuming that Conan set this up to involve her- but then dismissed the idea due to the fact that he was just a kid and that he couldn’t have possibly known she would appear in front of the Mouri Detective Agency right at that moment, or anytime tonight. 

A firm conclusion could be drawn from those few sentences Jodie said to whoever was on the other side of the line. It would have to be that she was well-aware of the men in black, enough so that someone would call her to inform her of their presence in the city, so she definitely was hiding enough to the point where she did know of their existence.

Shuu, are you coming? Yes? O-kay! We’re going there quickly right now. Should be only two minutes.” She paused, tapping a sequence on the back of the older-guy’s seat, in front, who was driving- it was in morse code. Two paused taps then a quick tap, then three consecutive long taps. The meaning was two letters in all. Go.

Clearly able to decipher the morse, the other guy put his foot on the pedal and the car went at speeds that surely weren’t legal, and Conan sent her a look. “Jodie-sensei-!” Conan bumpily said, and he had to say it. “Isn’t this- way, too fast?”

She gave him a small smile, putting a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. “ That’s a kid, Edogawa Conan-kun. He’s here because I was looking for a student, Mouri Ran, and she also happens to be at the docks… wait, you don’t think that she’s their target, do you!?”

The person on the other line clearly said something that made the teacher’s eyes bug out and she pressed a hand to her forehead. Biting her lips, Jodie’s uneasily turquoise eyes slyly looked at the side, as if considering the next move. “ Okay, Shuu. Did you inform the Bureau about this? We might need some backup. I don’t think just James and I will be enough against Gin and Vodka. And no, I don’t think our conversation is being tapped… I just bought this phone and we’re talking on the private line, yes?”

Conan’s eyes widened, and the thoughts ran through his head.

I see, he thought with terrible and lightning-struck fear for Ran and an unsettling shadow in his heart. So that’s how it is.

He missed the last parts of Jodie’s conversation with whoever was on the other side, but that was of no matter. Conan got all the information he needed from that exchange and he settled down in his seat, relaxing. “Jodie-sensei,” he asked, looking upwards to meet blazing sea-green eyes with his own shining sapphire, and she looked down, nonchalant, at Conan with mild surprise. “You…” he tipped his head. “You’re NOC…. with the FBI, aren’t you?”

Her eyes widened and immediately her hand settled in her skirt, and Conan had no doubt that she was reaching for a gun but didn’t take it out because he was a mere kid. It would also confirm his suspicions, and this was proof enough that everything was how he thought it to be. Not that he ever doubted himself, but dealing with an organization as big as the FBI…?

As if just collecting herself, she relaxed and gave a sheepish smile. Conan was aware of the man driving and also listening to the conversation with sharp, suspicious eyes. “W-what do you mean, Conan-kun? I’m a teacher, you know. You might be thinking that because I was speaking English, but not all English-speakers are a part of the FBI… you’ll learn that when you grow older.”

“I’m not wrong,” he challenged, eyes blazing underneath the tense moonlight. “You are part of the FBI. First, you’re clearly holding a gun in your skirt and have it hidden there, which tells me you either have or have not legal permission to hold a gun secret, but you seem oddly relaxed for a person holding a gun, walking on the streets with it. Secondly, we’re currently driving at speeds faster than legally, so you are either sure that we won’t get caught or even if we do, there wouldn’t be heavy consequences. Another indicator, the third one, is that your accent is clearly non-traditional English, so you aren't from England. That leaves only the possibility that you came from North America, so around the United States.

“Fourth, you’re aware of the men in black, and you don’t associate yourself with them. You said ‘against Gin and Vodka’, and ‘she’s their target’, which means that you know their names and are actively going against them, which begins to bring this all together. Fifth, you used morse code , which shouldn’t be the most common way of communication, but the FBI are experts at cracking codes. Morse should be the easiest of the bunch.

“The sixth indicator would be that you have a secret line to call each other on, to avoid your cell phones being tapped easily. No normal person or people would have a secret line. And lastly, the seventh and final thing that absolutely clenched that you’re FBI… you called your organization a Bureau . Only one group of people that’s possibly against the organization and is called a Bureau is the law enforcement group… known as the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Isn't that right, Agent Jodie Starling of the FBI?”

She stared at him in shock as they pulled up against the docks.

“Who… are you…?”

“Conan Edogawa…” He said, sapphire eyes glowing blue thunder against the night sky as he exited the car, leaving only one last line echoing in the night. “....A detective.”

 

==

 

Sharon shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but she still was, and really, it was more because Gin was a terrible and sadistic psychopath that loved bloodshed against all else. She understood the reason, that he was using the idea that she will talk about us unless she dies, but killing dear Angel was too extreme. There was already another way of doing it. And the answer was enclosed in her hands, as she stared at it with disgust and a sense of burning passion.

“Eat this pill,” Sharon said, handing it to Angel who stared at it with frightened and suspicious eyes. They had just narrowly escaped from Gin, by throwing the most nearby heavy rock into the waters, causing a splash, then diving away at the last second behind another set of crates. Angel was probably in heavy shock of it all, unsure of how to trust others, and Sharon’s usually icy-cold eyes softened.

She hated weaknesses. But this was a weakness she was willing to bear, for Angel, the girl with pure of heart that truly cared for human life with all of her own soul, and for him, the boy which caused all of everything to happen. Him, who was kind and sweet but sharp beyond all others, and who had given Sharon just a little piece of hope.

Angel’s hands wrapped around Sharon’s own, and the softness of them gave the older one a smile. “Don’t worry. It won’t kill you… it’ll just cause an extremely small piece of damage to your paleomammalian cortex, that will erase your memory of tonight. Gin’ll let you go at that rate.” Hopefully. It wasn’t a guarantee against a psychotic man like Gin, but it might be worth a shot. Better than odds against it, anyways.

Carefully, Angel carrassed the pill in her hands before gently putting it to her mouth, and hesitating. “But…” she started, tears clearly prickling at the corner of her beautiful purple eyes. “I… I don’t want to forget… I want to warn Shinichi… He…

“I’ll warn him,” Sharon promised with gentle eyes. It didn’t matter if it was Angel’s request. She’d do so anyways; because she would not allow him to ever be hurt. Never, not as long as it was in her power to do so. And Sharon desperately hoped that he wouldn’t help the law enforcement or other side with their plans, because as soon as they did so… she might just get an order herself to finish him off.

Angel’s crystalline eyes delicated, and she stared at the pill in her hands one last time before gulping it down. It must have been a terrible stretch to trust someone as suspicious as Sharon, but she really just wanted it for the good of Angel. For a second she choked, and Sharon doubted- for the first time- the experimentation of Sherry, before Angel fainted on her lap.

Sharon pressed a finger to the top of Angel’s neck, with it bordered her jaw, and with a small sigh of relief she found the pulse there to be steady, contrasting her heavy breathing. 

Suddenly, a blinding, golden light shone over her eyes and a car drove up to the side of the docks, where Sharon carefully covered up Angel’s body using her own. To her surprise, a familiar face- of an FBI kitten came out, staring off with troubled eyes as she pointed a gun.

To Gin’s face.

The silver-haired man chuckled, and it was a miracle that Vodka decided to go check what was happening because she could hear his footsteps next to her breathing, right next, in fact, and it was only thanks to her years of training that she could calm her heartbeat down so quickly and efficiently.

“Well, well. It’s the FBI agents coming out to play.” Gin snickered, bringing out his own gun in the literal blink of an eye, or even less, because it was faster than what should be humanly possible. His tone suddenly dropped, and those deadly cold eyes looked even more chilling than before. “Is Akai coming, too?”

“Perhaps.” This exchange had no party that said more than needed. “Why are you here… on the docks of Tokyo...? And what do you want with Mouri Ran…? She’s just a highschool girl! And I had always thought your kind liked to stick in the shadows.”

Gin snorted. “FBI, always sticking your noses into everything, aren’t you?”

“Tell me, or I’ll shoot.”

“That’s fine.” In a cheerful tone, Gin immediately pulled the trigger and the bullet, with pin-point accuracy, shot near-through the FBI woman’s left leg, and to her credit she didn’t crumble, instead opting to shoot back. Narrowly, Gin dodged the bullet with what shouldn’t be human speed and his silver hair flowed menacingly in the wind. “Dared to shoot me, yes? Well, there’ll only be one FBI agent ever that’ll be able to hurt me… and that would be-!”

A bullet, quick as thunder, went past Gin’s cheek as he suddenly moved his head left. Sharon watched from the shadows as the silver-haired psychopath looked back with gritted teeth and Vodka came up, disarming the FBI woman quickly. 

The wind picked up, and Angel’s body shivered next to Sharon’s own and she silently took off her coat, placing it over the young girl, and all the while staring in the direction Gin and Vodka, and even the FBI woman, was looking at.

Smirking, from a nearby lighthouse, the handsome face of that man, with dark, curled hair and tanned skin, with a long bottom lash framing his cold emerald eyes, with those dark circles that gave men nightmares. Wearing that terribly familiar knit cap that he wore even when he was parading as Moroboshi Dai, as Rye, and that trench coat which flapped in the wind, he had his intimately crossed rifle which killed so many people over the course of his life.

“...Akai…!” Gin ‘tch’ed, immediately grabbing his gun but not shooting due to the distance. There was no response, and instead another welcoming bullet that grazed just past the silver-haired man’s cheekbone and touched the edge of his shoe.

With surprise, another spoke up. “Aniki, what do we do!?” Vodka said, still pressing down onto the FBI woman’s arms, making her put them behind her back. Gin’s eyes narrowed, clearly in thought, and he sighed in annoyance and the lust of blood soothed out within his eyes.

 “If Akai is here… they might have called for backup. We’ll find a way to kill the girl quickly. And Vermouth, that rat of a woman, might finally get pushed off her pedestal for protecting someone against Rum’s orders, even if she is doing this for that brat.” He smiled chillingly and Vodka nodded, loosening his grip, and Gin laughed. 

Immediately, using some foreign signal that the two partners had come up with that Sharon wasn’t aware of, Gin and Vodka simultaneously let go and dipped as quick as time and light could run, gone in an instant. Sharon could see Akai’s features tighten as aimed, but determined the irregular movements and that it was not a perfect scheme to shoot right now, and the FBI kitten got up from the group grouchily.

Suddenly, a small hand tapped Sharon’s shoulder and she propelled her eyes forward to meet irises with large, brimming sapphire ones. The eyes that are all too familiar, that haunt Sharon in her dreams for failing to protect just that once from the clutches of them, and the handsome young face which once sweetly said her name.

Except for that face, but four years younger, Fubuki Carasuma now looking six instead of ten. Even though Sharon knew what to expect- even though she knew what Sherry’s drug had done to the boy, then the highschool detective known as Kudou Shinichi- it still came as a heavy shock. Though she knew what had transpired, the so-called “accident” which rendered his memory gone of her- it still hurt to see his face, right so close to her own.

“Get away from Ran… Ran-nee-chan…!” He, he, he said, pulling on Sharon’s sleeve as much as the fragile body could and barely getting it to move half a meter across, slightly away from Angel. “Why’d you want her, anyways!?”

The truth. The single truth that she, and not many others knew, and forcing the name out of Sharon’s mouth hurt more emotionally than she could have thought possible from muttering only two words. “Edogawa Conan,” she started, hating how her heart ached from the name alone. “That is an answer you’ll have to find on your own, Cool Guy .”

Even though she knew what she wanted, Sharon wasn’t one to ever break a promise.

And the promise she made with Yukiko…

“But I’ll tell you one thing… your dear Ran-nee-chan told me to tell you this to you. To warn you that they are looking for you… Kudou Shinichi-kun. ” He stiffened immediately and Sharon forgot how bad of a liar he was, because he sprawled backwards in surprise and face started to sweat lightly with taintable innocence. “Ah, ahh,” he breathed out, “I-I’m not Shinichi...nii-chan! I’m Conan Edogawa!”

She smiled coldly. Endearing as he always was, except now he was pulling on Angel’s sleeves now, trying to get her to wake up- or at least attempting to confirm that she was conscious. The pulse on her wrist was indicator enough because his hold loosened slightly, his breathing stilled, and he stared more intently at Sharon.

“Don’t try to play that, Shinichi...kun. I have my ways of finding things out… and the affair at the amusement park, with you being forced down the Apotoxin-4869?” Slyly, the kid’s eyes narrowed, and Sharon knew that he was trying to figure out exactly if she was on his side or not. If it was the former, he wanted to know who she was, or if it was the latter, he was trying to consider why she was bothering to tell all of this to him. “Well, boya, the rest is up to you…”

“Give me back Ran-nee-chan,” he said instead of responding, pushing Sharon out of the way and she hit her head on the crate as the kid took Ran’s hand, pulling her out. “...I won’t tell the FBI about you… clearly you have some alternative motive... but what’s your name…?”

“My name?” She smiled. It was just like him to want to know that out of everything else, but it was to be expected. She probably seemed all too familiar to the boy, who hesitatingly looked up and down, perhaps trying to pin-point exactly what it was that struck him as odd. 

“It’s Vermouth to you.”

Not saying “Sharon” was perhaps the most painful event of all. Knowing that if she said her true name, it might trigger all of the memories to come flooding back into his head, and however tempting that may be she wasn’t going to do so- not until that day.

You promised he’d be better in your care, Yukiko. You better be right…

She watched as the kid, Conan, took Angel as far as his small body could carry before Sharon slipped back into the shadows, opening her phone to dial a number that she wholeheartedly wished didn’t exist in the world. A darker network of numbers that didn’t intertwine with the light above, and one that law enforcement won’t ever be able to find.

You did kill the girl, yes?” Gin’s voice came from the other end. For a man who just retreated, he sounded terribly proud of himself- but Sharon accepted it, instead opting to continue listening. “I sure hope you have some good explanation to give to Rum and that man on why you protected that girl, because they both demand a report soon, Vermouth.”

“Don’t worry,” Sharon spoke in the coldest voice she could- one that has become all too natural now, and she hated it that way. But as perfect as her persona, she held all emotions out of her voice and hissed in a chilling tone. “I didn’t kill her, but I did make sure she won’t remember anything… Remember Sherry’s little side project? That little kitten’s pill worked. I tested it myself… and don’t you worry about why I protected her.”

A little snicker on the other side, then a gruff from Vodka made Sharon’s face go ever paler than before. “I see. Vermouth, don’t pretend like this weakness won’t exist from now on, then? And also… Tell the other brat that they should stay on standby. Their work today was fine, for a brat who hasn’t worked for a good few years and suddenly came back.”

“...You want me to speak to Everclear.

“Yes, that brat.”

She hung up after an affirmative, pocketed the phone, and sighed into the night.

 

===

 

It was over.

Finally. Ran was safe and sound, snoring quietly in his arms, and Conan couldn’t help but feel such a sense of relief that nothing had gone wrong. He originally had a plan; but then quietly whispered it to the FBI agent as he exited the door- and it was such a simple idea that he was so glad it had worked.

Agent Jodie would distract the two men in black- Gin and Vodka, now that he knew, and a third agent would be called up in order to make them think that they truly had backup. No. Most FBI agents aren’t even in Japan, much less the area, and the other agent would be in the car, ready to drive away in a heartbeat in case things went terribly wrong.

Conan would then find Ran and bring her back, and the rescue mission would work- whatever happened afterwards would be an afterthought, for when Ran was safe. But even though things went without a hitch in the plan, Conan still had an array or multitude of questions left unanswered delicately in his head.

The first was the most blatantly obvious: who was Vermouth? Conan couldn’t help but find her incredibly familiar, and it was uncomfortable how he felt his instincts trusting her. Even upon instinct, Conan always prioritized his mind over that and it was hard to tell if Vermouth was on their side or not. Next came the question, why did they target Ran? She was an ordinary highschool girl- karate champion, yes, but a normal citizen of society outside of that. Though Conan didn’t want to believe it, there was an obvious answer that dubbed him the reason Ran was attacked to begin with.

They were suspicious. Suspicious about the death, and the corpse- or lack thereof- of Kudou Shinichi, and decided to attack Ran to interrogate her about him. Which punched a hole in his heart- that he caused all of Ran’s suffering. Which brought him to the third question- why did they use alcohols as code names? There was a clear repetitive pattern among them , from Gin to Vodka to Vermouth. It might have something to do with the fact that they are clearly dangling to look for money- the exchange at the amusement park was proof enough of that- and in the modern world, nothing makes more money than alcoholic beverages.

He stared off into the distance, before letting his brain shut down on the car on the way to the hospital to help Ran, and dozed off; the world felt at peace for once, and perhaps he wondered if it was the work of some higher power that he could finally rest.

Finally, it was quiet, and honestly Conan couldn’t ever think he missed this silence as Shinichi ever before, and it brought a chill down his spine just to be able to snore lightly and have a dreamless slumber.

 

“Conan-kun! Why are you here to visit again! A kid like you should be playing with his friends afterschool, not visiting a highschooler in the hospital.”

She patted his head, ruffling the hair around with an affectionate smile, but Conan could tell the effort she was making to keep the pain off her face. He remembered the pants, breaths of anguish and damage that kept her from being discharged from the hospital. 

One week ago today, the incident had occurred- the one Conan has regretted the most so far, far more than following those men in black and being fed the drug which turned him into a kid, forcing him to become only “Edogawa Conan”. And, he was beyond shocked to find that Ran didn’t remember a single thing from the event at all. The doctors had said that there was some minor injury to the limbic system of her brain, yet she didn’t suffer any external damage to the head, implying that something had occurred which caused the suspicious detriment.

In all honesty, Conan was terribly concerned about this all. The fact that Ran had amnesia, so there would be less chance of them attacking seemed all too convenient; like someone deliberately set this up in an attempt to string events together.

He sighed, just letting the comfort of being patted on the head calm him down. I ought to keep my head cool for now, he told himself, letting it all slip away as he gave Ran a concerned look of puppy eyes, and did what he might have said as a kid if he saw Ran in this situation. “But… Ran-nee-chan, you’re hurt, and I want to make sure you’re okay!”

Her purple eyes softened and she leaned to give him a hug, but Conan pushed her away. That has got to hurt more than it shows- Ran was strong, being the whole junior karate league champion and all- but just as fragile as every other human being on this planet. She winced as peacefully as possible but Conan caught it, instead holding her hands to his chest.

“I’m fine, Conan-kun. No, I really am,” she continued, seeing the skeptically concerned look he gave her, and Ran sighed, gently clapping his cheeks. “The doctor says I probably can get discharged next week or the week after! So you don’t have to come visit me every day. Not even my parents do so, even if mom tries to squeeze time in her schedule.”

Conan pouted, and Ran respired, gently pinching a small piece of skin on his face, and he furrowed his eyebrows in an attempt to look serious. It might have not gone well with his currently six-year-old face because Ran just laughed, albeit what might have hurt her, and gave him a tenderhearted and warm smile.

“Just go and play outside. Look at how nice the weather is! And I’m sure Ayumi-chan, Genta-kun, Mitsuhiko-kun and Ai-chan want to play soccer or games at the professor’s house.” She pointed at the hospital window, and indeed the weather was amazing today- bright, shining sun, but with few clouds which made it not too hot. The perfect temperature to play outside. “And if you don’t go, I’ll tell the nurses to not let you in anymore!”

“Ehh!?” Conan called, surprised, and hastily retreated to the edge of the room. Stiffly, he gave a shy, concerned glance before heading out the door. “Okay then… but I’ll be back tomorrow!” Ran smiled. “Aww, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He left the room with a small, sour taste in his mouth and let the door close behind him. What to do, what to do? Conan would’ve preferred to stay with Ran in the hospital, but that clearly wasn’t an option, and he already told the other Detective Boys that he wouldn’t be with them while they played soccer today… maybe he could call and tell them that he suddenly was able to play? Mitsuhiko usually had his phone on him.

A large sign grabbed his attention and pulled on it; one that read Agatha Christie Books on sale! Which reminded him of the large mystery novel selling they were doing at the park- wait, was that today? Precipitously, he took out his phone. Two weeks ago Conan had been extremely excited about the whole thing and even set a reminder on his phone.

The words Book Fair Today! Caught his enthrallment and Conan decided that he could cheer himself up. Recently, for the past week, he hadn’t really felt like himself. Just an empty shell regretting actions- but as any good detective knows, the past was in the past and he couldn’t do anything to change that now. Conan could only just try to move on. Buying a brand new mystery book seemed like a fair way to get his mind off things. It always did, when he was younger, and probably before he lost his memory of the accident. He always reached for comfort in the world of books- then aspired to be a detective himself.

That’s right, he reminded himself. He was not Edogawa Conan, some six-year-old who couldn’t do a thing when people were in need, when Ran was in need, when Asai Narumi- no, Asoh Seiji was in danger of fire. He was Kudou Shinichi, the highschool detective who saved as many people as possible and brought criminals’ logic down for justice.

Wow, he thought ironically. Seeing a single sign triggered a whole emotional response and self-awareness check. Way to go, Shinichi. It wasn’t surprising, though, because mystery novels meant the world to him when he was eleven. He’d never say it to his father directly, but his books, novels and tricks saved Conan when the entirety else of the world seemed dark and dim.

He walked down to the park. The weather felt nice against his skin and the amount of people at the book fair was a lot more than expected, with a good hundred or less standing, and Conan counted a good thirty people standing in line to buy at a stand.

Curiously, Conan poked through to see which book was being sold at that stand. To his astonished sheepishness, it was Night Baron and the Forbidden Gem, his dad, Kudou Yuusaku’s most recent development in the Night Baron series. He knew his father’s books were popular, but to be sold at a random stand in the park and have so many people there, just to buy the book?

“Conan-kun~?” a voice called and immediately he turned to the name, meeting eyes with a familiar shade of dark indigo. The same ruffled hair and bird’s nest, darker than Conan’s own, and tanned skin and a meticulously crafted smile on his face. It was one Kuroba Kaito who wouldn’t leave Conan alone for a week. Why does he always meet this guy at the park?

“Fancy seeing you here.” He said, smoothly, and Conan pouted with suspiciously flat eyes. “Not really,” he started, “I’m a huge mystery novel fan, especially of the incredible detective Sherlock Holmes. But why are you here? You don’t strike me as a detective book lover, Kaito-nii-chan. If anything, I’d say you’d be a fan of a thief, or something.”

Was it just him, or did Kaito tense at that?

“Well, isn’t that what the Night Baron is?” He asked, laughing it off so casually that Conan seriously doubted if he saw it right, and the smooth transition didn’t sit well with his eyes as he trailed Kaito’s thumb to the book stand. “An elusive thief?”

Conan stared upwards, unamused.

“I guess, if you want to put it that way.” He pressed a (small, but not delicate) palm to Kaito’s school uniform and he looked devilishly surprised at the movement. “I mean, thieves are pretty popular recently, not just with fathe… Kudou Yuusaku-san’s Night Baron series. I mean, haven’t you heard? There's been some wannabe-phantom thief running around recently. I think the news called him the Magician Underneath the Moonlight, or something. I haven’t been paying much attention to that.”

For some reason, Kaito stared with unfathomable thoughts, and something dark flashed in his eyes as he gave Conan a sudden, sheepish laugh. “It’s Kaitou 1412, or Kaitou Kid, Conan-kun~!” He patted Conan’s head, and honestly he preferred Ran’s head pat far more than Kaito’s. “Funny you bring him up. I’m actually a rather big fan of Kid myself.”

“I see.” Conan pushed Kaito away. The pats were getting a bit uncomfortable now, and it felt like there was almost malice of some kind bewitching Kaito’s fingertips, like he had another motive for doing so. “I was actually thinking of going to one of his heists, because Sonoko-nee-chan said she’d be attending one soon and invited Ran-nee-chan-!”

Cut off, Kaito suddenly drawed back and stared at Conan with large, fearful but emotionful eyes. It was the most genuine look he’d seen of the other. “Wait, don’t go to Kid’s heist!” He mentioned, grasping on Conan’s shoulder harshly and the latter winced at the hard pressure. “...It’s just that they aren’t something for children, you see.”

“Oh? What’s this?” 

Just as Conan was going to retort, a third voice joined in on all of the conversation, and it seemed like Kaito was almost relieved before he saw whoever the third party was. Another teenage boy, probably about the same age as Kaito and maybe a year older than who Conan would be as Shinichi, walked up to the pair talking.

He had medium-length blonde hair, except it was more of a cold blonde than a golden one, and his eyes were a milky caramel color that matched well with his tanned skin and handsome features. He was tall, far taller than Kaito and even more so than Shinichi, and Conan could estimate him to be about a hundred and eighty centimeters in height. His outfit would almost provoke a laugh if not for the fact that Conan loved the dressup, and it was the classic sand-colored oversuit of Sherlock Holmes and he wore the signature detective’s hat.

“If it isn’t Kuroba-kun?’ So this guy and Kaito knew each other, and by the frown on the latter’s face, he didn’t like the newcomer. Kaito pouted, pressing a crooked finger onto Conan’s hair as if to tell him not to speak and he obliged. “I never thought you to be the type to be at a mystery novel selling. In fact, I thought you’d be all about the latest gems for your heists.”

He looked so beyond annoyed at that, but Kaito did an amazing job of not letting it go to his face and he smiled warmly instead. Were they in the same class? “For the last time, I’m NOT Kid! He just happens to be my idol, is all. And if I knew you were coming, I’d rather have not shown up to begin with, Hakuba.”

Ignoring him, the man Kaito called Hakuba twitched, seeing Conan, and pushed Kaito away far more roughly than Conan did earlier, shoving him to the ground a few meters away and not bothering to speak up to him afterwards. “Who’s this?” Instead, he asked gently, pressing against the place that Kaito had touched. “A little boy? What’s your name, boya ?”

“I’m Edogawa Conan,” Conan introduced with a smile. It was clear that this highschool guy was a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes, and that already made him a good person in Conan’s book. “I love Sherlock Holmes, too!” He touched the felt of the fabric of Hakuba’s cosplay and the soft material stunned him. That has got to be not cheap.

“Is that so? Well, I hope you love my outfit, then.” Hakuba laughed. “I’m Hakuba Saguru, a highschool detective. Now, what’s a kid like you doing with Kuroba-kun?”

Blinking, Conan stared upwards. So the dislike was mutual between the two- the highschooler was just extremely good at hiding his distaste for Kaito. And another highschool detective, to add to the bunch; and now there was the triad: Kudou Shinichi, who was himself, Hattori Heiji, who was the West’s representative, and now Hakuba Saguru. Before long, another one was bound to show up. And why do I always meet strange new people at this park? “Kaito-nii-chan just showed up, Hakuba-nii-chan. Are the two of you classmates?” 

“...Why yes, we are, though not for a long time. I’ve just come back from England, you see.” He smiled warmly and Kaito finally got up from the ground, this time shoving Hakuba away, and the blonde rolled over on the floor. “Why you…! Kaito!”

The darker-haired male walked close to the blonde, putting his face right above Hakuba’s and with a swish of his hands, everything changed, and Kaito was wheezing in seconds. It didn’t take quite too long for Conan to realize exactly why as he stared at Hakuba’s hair in shock, and the outfit now suddenly different. There was a small poof of pink smoke, and within this time Kaito somehow dyed Hakuba’s blonde hair blue, and then it was like he hesitated and changed his mind because a few bottom stands were a bright pink instead. That part was funny enough that even Conan choked out a laugh, but it kind of offended him to see the Sherlock Holmes outfit pink too, and in a heartbeat Kaito was rolling over on the floor where he just got up from and laughing his head out.

Seeing such a genuine laugh from Kaito made Conan laugh, too, and by psychology he remembered that watching someone do an action made it more likely for one to do it too. Hakuba seemed infuriated and glared menacingly with brown eyes, then looking embarrassed as he swished his head from side to side, and Conan realized how others were staring cheekily, and laughing, at the sudden change of hair colors. “What is wrong with you!?” He angrily bit his lip, face swiftly turning a beet red as Hakuba stomped off to the nearest washroom.

“Ahh, ahh, oh my, that was so funny… Well, it's just the two of us now, Conan-kun… Ehh… you’re… laughing ?” Kaito asked, astonished at the end, finally settling down from laughing, as Conan finally let out a small, breezy laugh and it soon became a whole set of chuckles.

As if touched and heartwarmed, Kaito began laughing too, and not caring about how others sent them looks both Kaito and Conan just smiled. It felt good to release the emotion for the first time in what felt like forever, and all the tension fell from his body as Conan cheekily grabbed onto Kaito’s arm and sat in his lap, both parties laughing as the ruffling of hair felt just a bit more natural now.

 

Ayumi’s birthday was swiftly coming up and the Detective Boys were in charge of preparing a secret party. The four of them, everyone except Ayumi of the Detective Boys, had a secret meeting to talk about it and most of the details were set.

Mitsuhiko and Haibara would make the accessories together, while Conan was in charge of making an amazing puzzle befitting for a member of the Detective Boys, and Genta would find a place suitable to hold this incredible birthday party. There were many candidates, but the one he decided on, he announced, would be a place which Conan was extremely familiar with.

“We’re going to Cafe Poirot!”

Notes:

I actually did do research for this chapter. Trying to figure out exactly which part of the brain would be damaged for memory loss was one aspect, but the other was trying to get all the details for the characters right. I am so sorry, I apologize because I just figured out that Heiji's an Ellery Queen fan, not an Agatha Christie fan. And, originally, Kaito wasn't going to be in this chapter, but he ended up wriggling in anyways because- by coincidence- I was watching the Kid Teleportation episode in DC and decided he would be in. It made it more interesting anyways; because Hakuba was going to be introduced in this chapter with or without Kaito.

I have no confidence in my writing skills and I honestly think I could have written this chapter a lot better. But I'd rather not leave you guys on that cliffhanger and instead decided that this was good enough. If I connected this chapter and Part I together, it would have been around 20,000 words long. I actually had a coded message that led to a pastebin link which would have been a small short diary entry by Aoko reflecting on Kaito planned out for this chapter... but it ended up being crossed off. I have a reason for not putting it here, though, and perhaps I'll give that code later in this story.

On my planning page, I call this chapter the Ran in Danger Arc, and it's going to be the first major arc of this story. For another chapter (or a few others), it'll be more lighthearted subjects (like murder is lighthearted) before the second major arc comes it- and trust me, it'll be better than this one.

Even though I don't like my skill of writing, I have faith in my ability to plan, and honestly- plot wise it went pretty well. Also, trust me, someone will be murdered next chapter and I have planned that murder to the edges of the world- and it won't be an easy one. All the details required to solve that murder will be mentioned in the chapter and you guys can try to solve it, too!

And, don't worry: Amuro will be introduced next chapter! (Hinted by the Cafe Poirot at the end, there.)

Oh, and a warning! I've noticed that it feels like I'm sticking to the canon storyline! Nope! At least one of the "good characters" in canon are now, well... part of the Black Organization. You can actually figure it out from this chapter alone. I've included a massive contradiction that reveals at least one of the BO members set up in this novel. And, good luck trying to find the new Original BO member I made up: Everclear!

As always, have a good rest of your day, and thanks for reading! I appreciate any and all hits, reads, comments, and kudos! Especially comments; they make my day and make me feel like my writing is worth it.

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.

Chapter 6: III Part II

Notes:

warning: kidnapping

also i love how nobody questions the "Major Character Death" tag, it's hilarious, but I did put it there as both a warning and for fun.

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

Chapter Text

Chapter III Part II

 

Conan blinked, sapphire eyes wide as he stared down at the floor with a hand to his chin, mind gears twirling around as fast as it could to connect the strings of evidence provided. Everything clicked into place and immediately, the smirk on his face grew larger as he stared at the one who killed the victim Kimiko.

Instantly, he touched his pockets, looking for the voice changer- perhaps he could pretend to be Agasa or something, if he gets back, but he was surprised to find that the bow-tie wasn’t in his pockets. Conan stilled, immediately touching the rest of his pockets and realized it really wasn’t there.

His expression tightened. Looks like he had to do it the old-fashioned way… which he would have preferred not to do, in front of the suspicious man Amuro Tooru, who was smiling so warmly.

“Hey, you guys,” Conan dropped his voice, and drew back the attention of the Detective Boys who immediately stared at him in interest. “This crime… I need your help to demonstrate it to Megure-keibu. Listen closely to what I’m going to say next…”

He murmured and whispered in quiet of what each member of the Detective Boys needed to do as they nodded, faze puzzled without really understanding exactly why they needed to do this and if the expression of Haibara was anything to go by, she was terribly annoyed by how he always kept it hidden. But Conan needed to keep his train of thought as straight as he could possibly do.

Then, after the Detective Boys understood- with Mitsuhiko scratching down notes on his notebook with his pen- Conan approached Takagi with wide eyes. Unbeknownst to the Detective Boys, he slipped away as fast as a hare and grabbed at the policeman’s coat. “Takagi-keiji?”

“Huh?” The man blinked, then turned and looked downwards at Conan who wasn’t even tall enough to reach the policeman’s waist. “Oh, Conan-kun! Did you figure something out?” He was mildly aware of how the inspector and the cafe worker both slowly turned their heads to listen in, but the blue-eyed boy didn’t mind too much. “Could you bring these items…” He whispered the rest into Takagi’s ear, who nodded, then his brow furrowed at the last item.

“What’s that last one for?” He asked quizzingly at Conan, who just smiled mysteriously as Takagi decided not to question him and rushed out the door to get the requested items and Conan gave off a shiny, satisfied smirk that could easily pass off as an innocent smile. Only Haibara seemed to be able to recognize what Conan meant and gave him an aggravated pat on the back, fiercely giving him a bored gaze.

It was time. Time to reveal the killer which had littered their trail in this small party-room rental place.

 

“Megure-keibu?”

Conan asked, innocently pulling on the inspector’s police coat as he looked down with annoyance, before realizing it was he who was doing actions with such a childish demeanor and he crouched down for them to talk face-to-face. “Conan-kun?” He asked, narrowly inspecting Conan, who was smiling innocently at him with a large grin.

“I think I figured out how the culprit locked the room!” For show, Conan pulled his hands over his head and waved around immaturely, and only Haibara knew how Conan was planning to reveal the killer’s moves step by step, starting with the construction of the locked room. The inspector’s eyes widened, eyes batting, then soon the boy realized that he had the attention of everyone in the room. Good, he thought, pinpointing the exact place of the evidence required to scrutinize the culprit. “Hmm?”

As that moment came Takagi rushed into the room with a bag of items, and the kid couldn’t hide the smile on his face as a droplet of sweat fell down the officer’s face, who handed the bag down to Conan underneath the curious watch of Megure that quickly turned to bedevilment at Takagi’s actions, listening to a mere six-year-old. Without another word, Conan took the bag and the items he had asked for, and motioned for the fellow Detective Boys members to come, who understood the signal.

“Okay!” Conan called, boyishly taking out a balloon, a string and a pump, before gently pushing Mitsuhiko, Genta and Ayumi closer to him as he opened the door to the room. After, as he had asked for, Genta continued to block the door to keep it opened. “Megure-keibu, can I have the key for a second?”

If it was anyone else Conan would have highly doubted that he would give it to an elementary student, but Megure knew that Conan was mostly right when it came to times like these and hesitatingly fished the key out of his pocket and handed it to Mitsuhiko, who gave it to Conan.

“It’s actually a relatively simple trick! First, you slip the key into a balloon,” the blue-eyed boy said, doing exactly that as the opening of the balloon swallowed the key whole. “Then, you slip the balloon underneath the gap between the door and the ground- like this- and then get out an air pump. Afterwards, you blow the air into the balloon,” Conan pushed the pump over and over and watched as it filled up the balloon, all while keeping it in place until the rubber ball of air was finally full. He then pushed the pump aside and took the nozzle of the balloon, where the hole was, and tied it off.

He let go of the balloon, and watched as it- with the key inside- flew off onto the ceiling of the room.

There was silence after he did such a thing. “And?” Megure asked, shrugging with one eyebrow. “Is that it? That just elevated the key, not exactly proving how anyone could lock the door…”

“No, but watch this!” Conan exclaimed, grabbing a new bottle of orange juice and he could feel the clear culprit stiffen as he pumped up another balloon, before dripping some of the orange juice onto the balloon and watched as it bursted, with nothing but a few scraps left on the floor. “See how orange juice can pop a balloon? Now, imagine if the air conditioner was on, which would explain the cool room temperature of how when we arrived suggested…” 

The boy ran over to where the air conditioner controller was and pressed the “on” button, before setting it to MAX and watched as the air and wind from the air conditioner pushed the balloon to the opposite side of the room, before it suddenly popped and the key landed soundly on the floor.

Breathlessly, everyone was quiet, including the Detective Boys- who he hadn’t explained this part to- stared at the key, now on the ground, in shocked silence. The image of the metal key, which had just been afloat in a balloon just mere seconds earlier, now fallen down onto the ground seemed to be an unbelievable sight, burned into their eyes. 

“Wait, wait- how did that happen!?” The first to react was undoubtedly Megure, followed quickly by a stare by Takagi as the man whipped his head over to glare at Conan, who just beamed. “I’d guess that orange juice was painted onto that strip of the wall beforehand where the air conditioner would blow it to. That’s why the culprit chose this location to commit their crime, because the orange wall makes the dried orange juice practically invisible.”

“Have forensics examine that corner right now!” Megure commanded and people immediately rushed to the corner he pointed at the wall, before the inspector’s face distorted with puzzlement. 

Blinking, the inspector seemed to finally realize that the one who offered up that solution was a little boy and his expression tightened before Megure was clearly thinking with concentrated eyes. “But… then who killed the victim? Anyone could have done that trick… no, how did they know that there was orange juice on the wall anyways? Aren’t the rooms randomized? No, wait. Conan-kun, your logic is flawed.”

Flawed? Conan stilled, frowning, looking up, inviting the inspector to continue. 

“Well,” Megure started, “The female suspects couldn’t have done it as you described because they couldn’t have had time to set it up. Avaran-san and Yuka-san went out to drink with Kimiko-san the entire time. Which means that the only one who could have set up this trick is Yoshihiro Isa-san, but he only had five minutes to do the entire crime, subtracting the time it takes for him to walk from here and back, since this room is next to the washroom! And nobody else could have predicted that this room would be the one used- which means that he didn’t have enough time to commit the crime the way you suggest!” It was steady logic, but it was the logic that Conan was expecting- and knew the answer to.

Dramatically, he let the question sit there in the air, a satisfied but nervous smile coming from Yoshihiro as his expression loosened. If anyone, anyone knew the answer to the inspector’s steadily logical question, the time to offer it would be now- but nobody was speaking up and Conan blinked.

“...So, what if Yoshihiro-nii-chan… was an accomplice?”

His single sentence caused a surge of shock to be felt throughout the room and some people tensed, and he could feel the especially burning gaze of Amuro on him, but he didn’t say anything to that. “What do you mean?” Megure asked, blinking with surprise.

Conan smiled. “What if his part of this crime… wasn’t to kill the victim, but to set up the circumstances for the locked room?” He turned, sapphire-blue eyes fearsomely glaring at Yoshihiro with an almost deadly look and the man flinched backwards, before raising his hands to deny and question- but Conan didn’t let him as the kid cut him off. “What if Yoshihiro-nii-chan was the one to dry the orange juice on the wall?”

Immediately, that garnered a reaction from the man in question.“ B-boya, I think you might have a misconception… this might be hard for you to understand, but orange juice doesn’t dry in five minutes and it would have d-dripped down the wall onto the floor, and that would be blatantly obvious…” The man tried, putting his hands up in a defensive position.

“Ehh? That’s true!” Conan acknowledged aloud, and Yoshihiro sighed a relieved breath before he tensed again as the kid continued to blabber using a childish tone. “But… that’s weird, I recall a hairdryer able to blow out cold air in the washroom!”

The man’s eyes froze.

Takagi blinked, before putting out a hand in excitement as he ripped a page off of his notepad. “That’s it!” He exclaimed, and Megure whipped his head to look at his galvanized subordinate. “Yoshihiro-san used the hairdryer to dry the orange juice on the wall, and that ’s how it dried so evenly along the top!”

And a flash of understanding shot through the inspector’s eyes as he considered the idea. “But still… Who killed Kimiko-san, then?” Megure rubbed at his chin, eyes dancing between the victim’s sister and the victim’s friend. It was very obvious to Conan and even more simple was the motive, one that Conan could see but never understand. He’ll never be able to sympathize with those who have chosen the wrong path.

“Ah-le-le?” Conan wondered in a cutesy voice, having climbed onto the women’s chair- none other than Yuka Takaki, the victim’s sister and Yoshihiro’s fiance. Instantly eyes glued onto him like rubber failing to stretch. All pairs of shining orbs were on him now as he continued his little childish deduction show. “You said you had an orange stain on your bag earlier, right, Yuka-nee-chan?”

The lady’s eyes widened before she immediately pulled her bag closer before Megure wandered closer, inspecting the bag and realizing that the orange stain really was on the leathered fabric, before he looked up hastily at the frightenedly fearsome face immediately distorted to. That was the face only a murderer could have, when cornered by the terrifying deductions of a detective.

“W-What, how did that get there?” She played innocent, looking down at the stain in shock before Yuka collected herself with a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, I remember now… I spilled orange juice on it earlier. Didn’t I tell you that already?”

Megure’s expression tightened. It was hard to prove against a direct denial like that. In court, that was the one claim that nobody could disprove unless of a witness testimony, and it wasn’t always the most effective but was always persuasive if the suspects could impress. But Conan wouldn’t be blown underneath the lies so easily. If he did, he couldn’t call himself a detective anymore. It was a culprit’s job to do the unimaginable, just as it is a detective’s job to uncover the one truth veiling the unimaginable in question. 

And as Kudou Shinichi, highschool detective, as well as Edogawa Conan, detective- he would do so, to prove exactly how the culprit committed their terrible crime. And because he has much more to lose now- namely Haibara, who was staring at him from behind- he’ll do it in the most childish and non-ill, cutesy way imaginable.

“Ehh? I have a question!” Conan called out, waving his hands over his head frantically. “Now that I think about it, the rooms are randomized, right? So how did Yoshihiro-nii-chan know which room to dry the orange juice on?” He spun his head around to look at a man who was trying to seize the opportunity. “W-Wait, that’s not completely established-!” 

Yoshihiro’s claim got completely wiped off as Conan continued, uncaring of how he was trying to disprove the truth. “What if the culprit left a sign for her accomplice?”

“Do you mean that Yuka-san put her bag on the table to signal to Yoshihiro-san to not leave any traces of messages on their phones?”

That voice. It was the voice of Amuro Tooru, chillingly smiling as he wondered out loud. It was the first time that Conan had heard him speak since the start of his deduction, and the attention drew to the Poirot worker like moths to an emberous flame as he smiled dearly as sweet as honey after realizing that everyone was staring at him. A mysterious smile, more or less concealing his true nature that laid just beneath the surface. In all fairness, Conan had forgotten that he was here.

And the kid, sapphire eyes wide, paused for a moment, considering the danger on an internal scale before deciding it was fine. He needed to face the problem right in front of him, not the one above quite yet- and it wasn’t even certain that Amuro was with them.

Just a possibility. A very probable possibility, but a mere possibility nonetheless.

“Y-yes!” His voice came out more shaky than he would have liked, but Conan gave the affirmative and turned back to the inspector, whose eyes had wandered to Conan once again. “That would explain everything. If Yuka-nee-chan left her bag on the table, Yoshihiro-san would have known which room was the one that they were in and he could have painted it on the walls! The orange juice might have dripped onto her bag, too! Afterwards, it would have set up the crime!”

Both Yuka and Yoshihiro seemed lost for a second, before the former’s will in her eyes brightened.

“And your evidence?” That was the claim that she chose to express, voice knowing as if she thought that she already won. Her eyes were now largening and pupils shrinking like a crazed madman as she smirked to the silence that followed, thinking that there really was no way to prove her of her crime. “This trick that you mentioned, too… it could have been used exactly by Avaran-chan, no?”

Conan’s smile grew wider. “Sure, it can be done by Avaran-nee-chan… but I bet that the evidence is in the washroom. Forensics probably would have dismissed it the first time, but someone had to have brought that hairdryer; it would be unnatural to randomly have one in a public universal washroom. So the ones who committed the crime, you, Yuka-nee-chan and Yoshihiro-nii-chan… one of you brought it to the crime scene, and the hairdryer originally belongs to Yuka-nee-chan. Because of that, both of your fingerprints should be on it- which is plenty of evidence for this important instrument to the crime.”

Suddenly, he was aware that he had garnered too much attention and attempted to laugh it off- his mind at a rapid-fire pace, trying to find a plausible excuse. Using “Shinichi-nii-chan” would be too risky, with Amuro Tooru here, and he couldn’t even say turn to Agasa as a shield when the man himself wasn’t even here. Kusou. Where was that inventor when Conan needed him?

Darn Haibara and those outdated foods!

“I-I mean, isn’t that right, Megure-keibu?” 

The inspector looked down at him, eyes full of suspicion and refusing to acknowledge his claim. Darn it. Conan knew that not everyone was like Mouri Kogoro, but just upright ignoring his little, childish voice kind of hurt. Or no, because now that he thought about it, Kogoro was more or less an anomaly with how he acted, prideful of something that was a two-man act. Though Conan is happy for the old man to get some recognition and spotlight- he wouldn’t say that he deserved it, but Kogoro definitely deserved happiness.

Because the old man was generally a good person at heart. Even if he acted like a fool once in a while, he was protective of what he needed to be and when serious would sacrifice himself for his family, and especially Ran and his wife. He would even do it for Conan, as much as it pains him to admit it- but actions always did speak louder than words.

“Well… forensics, examine the hairdryer right now! Yuka-san, Yoshihiro-san, you are both taken under custody for being the main suspects in this crime. However, if we find your fingerprints on it, Yuka-san, then consider this case as good as closed.”

“B-but… a motive. A motive! Aren’t those needed to convict someone?” Yuka yelled out, eyes bugging now as the madness in her eyes did anything less than fading as one of her hands was handcuffed, frantically trying to rip them off of her wrist, mixing up the differences between a detective fiction work and reality in her bent head. “If you’re so certain it's me, then tell me why I would murder Onee-san!”

“Money.” Conan instantly answered, and the shock that came from it being answered by a freaking six-year-old was so evident in her crazed gaze, staring down slowly and her gaze was like knives, sharpened and ready for blood. To anyone else, the look would faze them, but Conan has received so many of those at this point- from various people, tall and young and small, that he just replied calmly. “If your sister dies, you inherit your father’s money, don’t you? And that’s the reason that Yoshihiro-nii-chan complied with this murder. As your fiance, he’ll get some, too.”

The silence dropped in the room, as the case was finished- wrapped nicely in a sickening box called truth, restraining Yuka’s movements as she froze, glaring at him as if reminding him of death because he broke through her tragic crime. 

And Conan watched, freezing up as a hand- Yuka’s free hand- raised up into the air, then came down at chilling speeds, clashing with the side of Conan’s cheek, the skin dolously swelling at the contact as the pain pierced him before anyone could react.

Or, at least, that would have happened before something unimaginable happened and it was like lightning approached with how a tanned hand gripped Yuka’s own, right before it would have landed on the side of his face. Conan flinched and winced, waiting for the pain to come- only for emptiness to be where the force as he opened his eyes, revealing surprised, sapphire orbs, as the face of Amuro Tooru matched up to his figure as he stopped the slap from processing.

“Hitting a child?” That voice asked, eyes sharpened and Conan saw those blue-grey eyes turn empty and icy, color dulling in a fraction of a heartbeat to be one of pure, matted monotone. It would have frightened Conan, terrified him for a second, even, if not for the fact that the man had just stopped a slap to the face. He was glad that those chilling eyes were not opposed to him because any lesser of a man would have trembled and fainted at the sight. “How unsightly.”

But she didn’t seem to feel regret and instead that anger was exchanged for fear as she saw those eyes and the sight made her back off. Amuro’s hands loosened from Yuka’s as she let her own hand fall.

“S-sorry…” She apologized to Conan, seemingly calmer now, as her other hand was handcuffed and she, along with Yoshihiro, was pulled away from the crime scene, leaving only the intense stare of Megure and Takagi, along with Amuro and the Detective Boys all rushing to go around Conan.

Ayumi was the first one to speak up, her eyes widening in wonder, metaphorical stars shining in her eyes and Mitsuhiko and Genta could have sworn that they could actually see them. “Conan-kun! You’re so cool!” She swooned, and Conan couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride, smiling thinly. “R-really?” All the confidence from before disappeared at the drop of a hat for praise. “But still… sorry that you had to witness something like this on your birthday, Ayumi-chan.”

She beamed up at him. “No, no! It's fine, thanks to you, Conan-kun!” And chubby hands pulled the blue-eyed boy aside, to his shock.

“I knew my number one apprentice could do it!” Genta exclaimed, ignoring Conan as he patted the latter on the back harshly, stinging as Conan got tipped by the patting. The last to speak was Mitsuhiko, who was also grinning largely. “Impressive, Conan-kun!”

“Thanks,” Conan said, face with just the faintest blush sprinkled along his face. “It was thanks to Genta, though. If he didn’t say ‘why don’t you say it out loud’ earlier, I might have had to spend more time considering how to pinpoint Yuka-nee-chan as the culprit.”

Genta lit up, beaming at a sheepish sapphire-eyed boy. “I didn’t know I was so smart!”

Conan laughed, enjoying the thrill of the solving of the case, and it felt good to be in such a childish group, just laughing along with his friends, even if it only lasted a second.

 

“That was impressive, you know.”

Conan froze, staring up at the man waiting by the door as he was about to leave. He and Haibara had stayed behind to wait for the professor, who still didn’t come out and at this point Conan wondered if the man had eaten something bad or he was getting terrible diarrhea from the tons and gallons of food that he had piled up in that chubby stomach these past few years.

Haibara was waiting by the washroom, while Conan was at the front entrance, and the man, Amuro Tooru, looked down with an unreadable expression sprawled along his handsome features.

“W-what do you mean?” How he hated how he stuttered, but Conan never was one good at lying or hiding things from others. That expression tightened and the man crouched down, just barely, so sapphire eyes clashed with grey-blue orbs that sparked with unhidden interest. “Don’t try to hide it. Any human being could see how you led the police through that case.”

“R-really? I… I didn’t think so! I just figured out how Yuka-nee-chan and Yoshihiro-nii-chan made the locked room and I figured I should let Megure-keibu know!” The lie slipped off his tongue not-so-easily as he tensed, carefully eyeing the man’s face for any sign of any emotion.

After a few breathtaking seconds, where Amuro’s face inched ever so closer to Conan’s own, the man leaned upwards and moved his face away. “Is that so…” He left it off ambiguously, seemingly in his own thoughts but expecting something from Conan that he just barely realized.

Blue eyes blinked before Conan looked upwards innocently, not wanting to bow. “Oh, but thank you, Amuro-no-nii-chan for earlier! I really thought Yuka-nee-chan was going to hit me…” As if finally realizing the event, all coldness and tension left the man’s scarily relaxed body as he stood up, a warm smile on his face like sunshine. He patted Conan’s head, dark, chocolaty strands flying around uncomfortably over the kid’s skin as the boy’s face distorted into a discomforting pout.

“Ah, no worries. I couldn’t very well let a grown-up hit a kid.” With that, he walked off, hand leaving Conan’s hair and the latter was glance. Amuro waved in the distance, but not bothering to turn, as he continued talking from a few meters away. “But, if you ever find yourself in a dire situation, you know where to find me.”

At Cafe Poirot went unsaid, and Conan looked at the withdrawing figure unsettlingly, trying to figure out the motives of such a mysterious character offering a shady thing. That seemed oddly genuine, but Amuro has already proven himself to be a master at acting.

“What’re you doing?” 

A hand tapped his shoulder, and Conan jumped, turning to see the annoyed face of Haibara. She, followed by Agasa, had come out of the building at last. “It turned out Agasa-hakase ate way too much for his own good last night, not just the outdated stuff… and I even explicitly told him that he couldn’t have more than two slices of cake. He ate five!” Her eyes widened in disbelief of the older inventor’s audacity, Haibara rolled her eyes in disappointment, and Conan saw a droplet of sweat fall down Agasa’s face.

“Hahah…. Is that so. Agasa-kun, don’t do that anymore. I actually needed you to lipsync for me but couldn’t…”

“No, Agasa-hakase. Don’t listen to little Edogawa-kun over here. This ‘Great Detective’ didn’t need your help at all; he solved the murder like it was nothing.” She slyly looked at an exasperated inventor, who froze with a sheepish smile at her gaze. “But the next time you eat so much, I’m banning all sweets for two weeks. Because of this time, you’re banned from them for three weeks.”

Haibara decided it so swiftly and carelessly but it was like thunder bolted through the man’s eyes.

It sent a real shock down Agasa’s spine, and his eyes widened even more than the round ones originally did. “T-THREE WEEKS!?” He exclaimed, flinching, eyes distressing at the little figure of the sleek girl before he sorely promised to never do such a thing again, all the while when Conan smiled childishly at the poor inventor’s crestfallen eating plight.

 

=

 

The phone was shaking in his hand as Hattori Heiji stared down at the screen flashing white and blue, as his tanned finger hovered over the button as he hesitated to press it or not.

Normally he would never. He wasn’t really one to falter when making a choice; usually he rushed right in and did everything just the way his instincts foretold him to do, but he had to admit, even to himself, that he was far more wavering in what or what not to do when it came to Kudou.

There were two choices. Heiji was planning to go to Tokyo to visit the other highschool detective in half a week, but he did so relatively often how- but normally it was on the weekend. It so happened that Heiji and Kazuha’s school had a student accidentally setting fire to one of their sub-buildings. Because of that, the school would be closed down for an entire week, so he figured he could just hop on a train to Tokyo and maybe stay a few nights there, too.

There would surely be a mystery to uncover, with how cases seemed to follow Kudou wherever the man went, and it was like Death itself was Kudou’s personal stalker with how he attracted it like the ending of life was air. Maybe he really was cursed, but everyone still wanted Kudou around- either they were blind to how fatality followed his footsteps or they all loved him. Probably both, if Heiji thought about it. Even though cases appeared every week or second day, Kudou was always there to solve it.

Even if he has to do it in the body of a six-year-old kid, bubbling around and fumbling with his little voice changer and tranquilizer watch. (Heiji has been hit by it before, and he has to say that it really isn’t fun, to be knocked out without his will and consciousness painlessly gone in a moment. He has to pity the old man Mouri Kogoro for always being the target of Kudou’s monstrosity, even if the old man always claims the credit for it in the end.)

So. The question at hand. Should he call Kudou to let him know that he may or may not be crashing at the kid’s place beforehand? Or should he just show up on the day and surprise the little boy, who surely would be shocked by it? The former seems obviously to be the best one, but Heiji kind of wanted to see Kudou’s wide-eyed surprise as Heiji just wandered in through the front door.

It's so hard to choose. Never has decision-making been so challenging.

“Whatcha thinking?”

Kazuha’s voice rang out by Heiji’s ear and startled, the Osakan flinched backwards, then shook his head in shock much to the confusion of Kazuha. Her eyes scanned him with apprehension and finally, Heiji realized that she had actually asked a question and was expecting an answer. “Ah, I was thinking if I should call to warn that I’m gonna crash at Kud- C-c-c-conan-kun’s p-place. Maybe Kudou will be there too.”

He internally sighed. Heiji really did always have trouble saying “Conan”’s name, and maybe it was because he knew the kid’s true identity but stuttering three times before saying his name never once seemed to be such a problem as it was now. Painstakingly, Heiji even recalled being pulled aside by the boy, who pinched him on the cheek for messing up and clevering covering it up with an amazing pun.

With his observation, Heiji just barely recognized how his childhood best friend’s features tightened, as she finally sighed in annoyance. “Just call him, ya knucklehead! Don’t break your head over something so simple, or else how are ya gonna win the kendo tournament for me?”

That’s right, the promise. The promise that Kazuha was going to win the youth aikido tournament this year while Heiji was gonna win the kendo one, and then they promised to go see the fireworks together. And Heiji was going to uphold the promise, no matter what, because Kazuha really does matter to him, like half the world would. Even if they pick at each other and tease and argue, Heiji would never never never do anything that actually would risk their friendship.

Even if he’ll never admit that.

“So why’re you blushing?” Upright, Kazuha said with an aggravated straight face, and it seems like she was expecting something that she didn’t want to hear because her expression changed from one of mere pesky vexation to one of full-blown concealed anger. Which was strange, because Kazuha rarely ever tried to hide when she was angry. Wow, what she must be expecting has to make her really furious.

Hattori, minorly embarrassed by what he was about to say, put a hand to the back of his neck. “...Just thinking of how we’re definitely going to go see the fireworks together at the beginning of next year,” he admitted, aware that the tip of his ears was heating up.

This answer seemed to be not the one that Kazuha expected, and a brilliant blush immediately bloomed over her cheeks and up to the middle of her face because her eyes widened before she punched Heiji. Staggering back, Heiji’s face distorted into one of annoyance. “What was’hat for!? That hurt, ya know!”

“Idiot! Don’t- argh, whatever, just go call Conan-kun-! And tell him I’m coming, too!” That made Heiji raise an eyebrow, crossing his arms together. “You are?” He asked, genuinely surprised, but this only seemed to belittle the aikido-master more as she pumped her fist up for another punch.

“YES! NOW DO IT!”

Hastily, Heiji pressed the call button as infuriated by something, and the line didn’t go through for a few heartbeating seconds before the person on the other end finally picked up the phone and Heiji put on the biggest tone he could muster. 

“Oi, Kudou?”

“Kudou? This is Conan-kun’s phone, yes? Oh no,” That tone dropped, “it's that annoying Osaka bloke wanna-be detective, isn’t it…” The voice on the other end was undoubtedly not the little kid’s voice that he was expecting and after a second of thinking, Heiji realized who it was. With agarvation, the long nickname was not the only thing that made Heiji almost want to throw the phone to the ground. 

And it just had to be not Kudou who picked up, but the botheration of a highschool magician. Heiji forgot how bad his luck usually was. “Kuroba? Why do ya have C-c-c-c… that kid’s phone?” He gave up on saying the East’s highschool detective’s alias right, because he couldn’t force it out his mouth. Just sounded wrong , and Heiji blamed it on Kudou for naming himself something so strange as “Edogawa Conan”.

“Wow. Glad you remember me. Well, uhh- wait, don’t-!” The voice abruptly cuts off and there’s some terribly fumbling on the other side and Heiji couldn’t exactly decode, along with yelps and sound of pinching, before sounds like small fingers wrapping around the body of the phone finally reached the Osakan’s ears. “Hattori? I mean, Heiji-nii-chan, is that you? Oh, darn it, Kaito-nii-chan, move over-!”

“Oi, what’s happening?”

There was some more strange shuffling before the kid’s voice came back. “Ah… It turned out Kaito-nii-chan and I got kidnapped. We’re kinda stuck in the trunk of a car, and it isn’t really comfortable.” He said it so casually, too, like he was just taking a stroll in the park, but the words out his mouth were anything but casual.

“Ya got what!?” Heiji exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. 

“Uh, kidnapped. Abducted, I guess, if you want a prettier word for it.” No, that’s not what Heiji was asking- Kudou got freaking kidnapped? He understood that the kid was freakishly handsome for his apparently terrible young age but it wasn’t enough to be waylaid. More likely, he would be mugged, and the fact that he was trapped in a car meant that he didn’t have the chance to use that strange contraption of a tranquilizer gun or those mercurial shoes.

So either he was knocked out, didn’t have an opportunity, or there were many abductors. All three were not exactly something that Heiji wanted to hear about.

Immediately, Heiji got to his feet and fished on his shoes, before the clash of the closing of the door behind him rang out. “Do ya know where ya at? Gimme like, two and a half hours- darn it, that’s way too much… have ya called the police?”

“Heiji-nii-chan, don’t get so riled up over it. We have called the police but Kaito-nii-chan and I have actually no idea where we are, so they really don’t know what to do… Anyways, I’m gonna hang up now. My phone’s on low battery.”

With that, before Heiji could complain, the line hung up and the Osakan couldn’t even argue against Kudou’s logic. If his phone battery was running out and he somehow figured out his location later, then he would need to call the police. Kudou couldn’t waste energy by chitter-chattering with Heiji right now.

He sighed. Rushing all the way to Tokyo… by then, two and a half hours later, if the kidnappers wanted to, they could have already brought Kudou and that annoying Kuroba all the way down south by then. He couldn’t just buy a plane ticket and hop on it, either...

So, Heiji would just have to trust that Kudou knew what he was doing. Even so as he logically told himself, his body rushed down to the train station as he purchased a train ticket to Tokyo.

 

==

 

She wandered up to the new school, hand gripping tight on her bag, and the perfect female school uniform clothed over her skin. From the suit to the tie to the polo shirt and skirt and stockings, she has had them all and she couldn’t lie that it felt good, contrary to what the weird fortune teller had said.

On the way as she navigated her way to the grounds, she had met with a creepy lady with reddish-brown hair, sinking mysteriously with a crystal ball. Easily distracted, she had taken her fortune, and the girl- who she identified as being in highschool, albeit her weird hobbies- had told her that who she was looking for wouldn’t be where she thought. And that her week would begin badly and end badly.

Just blabber, an earful and no more to her. As if she would believe in such gimmicky nonsense; never was she one to believe in stuff like luck and fate, because she’s always been the one to decide her own destiny, and some weird girl wouldn’t change that. Astrology and fortunes? Nonsense. She was all about pursuing herself… and, her goal at the school wouldn’t change.

So what if her life has had strokes of terrible events? That was fine. She was strong.

The road was long and far after she ignored the fortune teller, who had merely chuckled, she had already run off to the front of the school. It was large and well-designed and looked modern and pristine, and the few students outside all had an air of sharp carefreeness that matched well with the person that she was looking for. 

She had heard from a news article that he was a soccer professional, and would have definitely gotten onto Japan’s junior soccer team if not for his admiration and desire to become a detective instead. Gleefully, she respected his decision. He always looked bored, when doing other things either.

With light and cheery steps, she entered the school and up the stairs, ignoring the looks that she got- herself was the only acknowledgement that she needed, really, and perhaps they stared at her skirt just a few heartbeats too long but that was all fine. The classroom that she was assigned to surely was down the hall, or else she really had read the map directory at the entrance wrong.

And she had full confidence in her own head and memory, so she slid open the door without hesitation and watched as people jumped, along with the teacher, who stared at her uniform too. Was something on her face, or did she get the skirt dirty and wrinkled? Her mama did always pack the uniforms too tightly, and she wasn’t really one for precise laundry… maybe she accidentally ripped it or something. Looking down, she couldn’t see any of that, but it wasn’t a big deal either.

While the teacher was collecting herself, she trailed her gaze over everyone in the room- and to her surprise, none were the face that she was looking for. With furrowed brows, she examined closer, glaring at every face in an attempt to find him. But he was not there and she recalled back to the fortune teller this morning. No way, it must be a real sickening joke or something. But one that she didn’t want to believe.

Finally, someone tapped her shoulder. “Uhm, are you the new student?” The teacher called out and she snapped out of it, a large, canine grin hovering above her face as she turned, writing her name in white chalk on the board. Then, she turned back, and tipped her head playfully with her hands behind her back.

“Pleased to meet you, everyone! I’m a student who has studied abroad until now, and a female detective.” She bowed, albeit not by much, but enough to gather respect for the others. “Please take care of me!”

Someone asked about her name and her smile grew even bigger in the blink of an eye. Unsettlingly, eyes fell back onto her as she relaxedly answered, the words just rolling off her tongue.

“My name? It's Sera Masumi.

 

===

 

“So, are we done for?”

Kaito asked, his body twisted in weird angles stuck inside the trunk, asked with an air of carefreeness in his voice that matched Conan’s own dearly. He looked strangely calm, even playful, almost, and Conan sighed. His back being pressed against Kaito’s knee kind of really hurt, and he struggled to move just a bit, until it felt better- and he realized that now his head was against Kaito’s stomach. Oh well, it was definitely more comfortable like this than having his arm twisted upwards. (It didn’t really matter how Kaito felt, but the highschool definitely wasn’t complaining, even though it must not be reposeful.)

“Depends on what you mean by done for,” Conan said, the car trunk dark but specks of sunlight pulling through as he shook his head, clearing it of thoughts. “Knowing Heiji-nii-chan, he’ll definitely come for us, that dummy… but he doesn’t need to. I’ll get us out of here.”

“You’re awfully calm and confident for a six-year-old who got kidnapped.” Kaito observed, and Conan shrugged as much as he could in the cramped space. Suddenly, long fingers touched the side of his belly and he winced, before the teenager in the trunk realized where he moved his hand to and swiftly apologized. “Well,” Conan started, “ You’re awfully calm and confident for a teenager who got kidnapped.”

Kaito laughed, which encouraged the folder at the back of the sapphire-eyed boy’s mind that there was definitely something suspicious about this guy. However, he just pinched Conan’s cheek, albeit in the dark, and the kid winced. “Ow,” he pouted. “I was serious! And don’t put your elbow there, it hurts.”

After the highschooler shuffled the limb away, Conan began to observe his surroundings. So far, he knows that he is in a trunk, that there is limited sunlight, and that it hasn’t been more than ten minutes since he got abducted- which means he shouldn’t be too far away from the professor’s house. There was wind, too, and the smell of iron was in the air- blood was the obvious answer for that, but where the corpse was, it wasn’t next to them in the trunk. 

“You know,” Kaito started, tapping what Conan assumes to be the side of his chest- but at this point, he really didn’t know anymore. “If you didn’t follow that one guy, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” The fact that the highschooler who followed him around was trying to push the fault on him made him a bit agitated, and sapphire eyes narrowed in botheration.

Conan’s expression tightened with his train of thought. “Hey, if you didn’t step on that branch, we could have brought the police on them!” He countered hotly, drilling his elbow to where he assumed Kaito’s feet were, and judging by the small, tickled laugh, he was right. “Besides, I couldn’t very well just let a man that suspicious walk away without making sure they weren’t committing a crime first.”

As if belittled by his justified words, Kaito pinched his cheek again, much to Conan’s annoyance. “Humph. But now we might die, because of your pesky curiosity~!” he said sharply, but with a still lightheartedly joking tone. 

He blinked in the dark, his head bobbing up and down from Kaito’s stomach doing the same as he breathed. Conan minorly recalled walking around on the streets a day after finishing up the case on Ayumi’s birthday, only for Kaito to pop up out of nowhere like some ghost and scare Conan, just a little bit.

They chatted, just for a few minutes, then Conan spotted some guy doing shady business, carrying a body-sized bag around and immediately he tailed after the man. At one point, Conan was thoroughly convinced of the man also holding a gun, with the bulge on the back of his shirt, and the light smell of crimson was unmistakable from that bag and his concentration left from the highschooler, until he finally realized that Kaito was following. And they were hiding behind a large trash can in an empty alley when Kaito accidently stepped on a branch, causing a noise, and immediately, the man brought out a gun and made the two crawl into the back of a car.

The kid wanted to shoot him with the tranquilizer gun but the man’s hand crawled along Conan’s wrist like a snake in an instant, and Conan couldn’t even read the car plate- and if he was allowed even a glance, he was sure that he could have memorized it, but the man had blindfolded them both before approaching the vehicle. In the trunk, they worked off the blindfolds, breaths finally settling down once sight was back as one of their major senses and the blue-eyed boy’s already relatively calm heartbeat stilled more.

In no way does Conan count this his fault. He would never live it down to leave a mystery unsolved, to let a potential criminal go with no repercussions for what they’ve done.

“I already told you. I’m not going to let us die.” He looked up, aware of Kaito yelping as the glasses frame along the back of his ears evidently poked into the highschooler’s abdomen. But that squall quickly was exchanged for blithe laughter before Conan felt a bit exasperated by the sound. “No, I’m serious! Okay, I might look like I’m six, but really-!”

“I know.” Definitively, Kaito interrupted, his laugh just beginning to stop. “But it's alright. I believe in you, even if you are a small kid that’s not even taller than my knees.” He teased, poking somewhere- the highschool probably didn’t mean for it, but the finger drilled into the ticklish spot beneath his arm.

Conan gave a small punch to the bottom of Kaito’s chin. “Hey, that’s not nice. I don’t have to be tall, you know. I’m still a kid, I’ll get taller in six more years.” It was true. Technically, Conan was perfectly average in height for his age, and Mitsuhiko, Genta and Haibara were just exceptions. Haibara had no right to be taller than him when she was only supposed to be a year or two older when they had their original bodies, and Conan was glad that her personality was so cool because she never teased him about it.

Mitsuhiko and Genta, on the other hand, were just abnormally tall for their age. It wasn’t even like Conan was short. At least Ayumi was actually average, or else Conan would seriously doubt if their first grade elementary class was secretly made up of middle-school students.

Again, Kaito laughed, before something in his voice broke and his voice changed, more mischievous, more dark, and just a bit more of something that Conan couldn’t identify. “ I’m sure you will, ” he said poignantly, before smirking in the shadow of the trunk, Conan just barely able to catch it. As quick as it came the dark tone disappeared. “Well, do you have a plan?”

Slightly unsettled, Conan continued as smoothly as he could. “...Maybe, but we’ll have to get him to open the trunk. And not pin my wrist or hands, enough so I can move them. Could you distract him?” 

If you could call the tranquilizer gun paired with the power-enhancing boots and belt a plan, and it was a decently viable one- for all Agasa’s strangeness were, Conan still appreciated him a lot for helping him in his definite time of need. Namely, these inventions. Though the inventor was only a self-proclaimed genius, Conan had to admit that these gadgets really have saved his life more times than he could count.

“Oh, distracting him will be easy.” Kaito laughed. “Believe it or not, I am a magician. Of course I have some magic tricks to amaze! I bet they’ll sweep even you, coldhearted Conan-kun, off your feet~!” 

“Is that so? Great. I’m looking forward to that, then.” Conan decided not to press, ignoring the coldhearted comment and hardly believing that he wouldn't see through the trick. Magicians are just gimmicking humans who do things less harmful than criminals and culprits, after all, and what kind of detective would he be if he couldn’t even see through a harmless play of a trick. “We’ll just have to wait until he opens the trunk, then.” 

It might take a bit, and who knows where they’ll end up by then- but if he could knock the man out then find clues to their location, then at least they’ll be safe. Afterwards, he could call the police and tell them about the rotting corpse that anyone stuck in the trunk could smell and everything will be fine. The thrill of such a dangerous situation wasn’t a pretty one, but something that made his heart flutter nonetheless. He had one chance… one single chance to knock the man out, or else both him and Kaito would be dead for sure. Such a finalty here was not one that he especially wanted.

Oh. And Hattori was on his way, too, but it’ll take nearly three hours to arrive in just Tokyo- and who knows where the two would end up by then. He appreciated the care, though, even though Conan lived off the danger that seemed to be hiding everywhere, in his shadows, in the skies, and he had pulled through it all. From an accident at youth to nearly dying from a drug to saving Ran from an attack of that organization alongside America’s FBI- he doesn’t feel perfectly prepared, but he’ll live.

That’s just how Conan rolled.

“So… what are you thinking about?” Kaito asked, breaking the silence, and Conan shook his head of his thoughts, digging deeper into Kaito’s stomach. 

Surprisingly, the highschooler still hasn’t complained- even if he complained about a multitude of other things- and Conan panted. “Just about my life,” he left it as ambiguous as possible. “Nevermind that. Uh… doesn’t it hurt by now?”

“What hurts? Oh, you mean your head? Don’t worry about that. I’m plenty comfortable like this.” Conan was one hundred percent sure he was lying, but perhaps the suspicious highschooler had a conscious heart and didn’t want a six-year-old kid to be too painful while they were kidnapped. 

Based on Conan’s own curled up position, he’d have to hypothesize that Kaito’s elbow should be poking at the teenager’s own neck and his knee, along with the rest of his leg, should be pressing up at the ceiling of the car. That could not be anything but uncomfortable. “Thanks for the concern, though. I guess I’ll take back that coldhearted comment from earlier~!”

Well, whatever he wants. “Alright then,” Conan grumbled, ignoring that last comment. “Later, don’t go in front of me. My plan won’t work if you do.” He warned slightly, voice stern.

“Okay~! So, you have anything you wanna chat about in the meantime?”

What a guy to want to have a carefree conversation while they were getting abducted in the back of a car trunk, but Conan was kind of impressed by how calm he was. He brushed off Conan’s warning like it was nothing and Kaito’s fearlessness rivaled even his own sereneness. Conan shivered by a sudden, cool breeze. “Uhm. Have you… read the Sherlock Holmes series?”

He brought up his greatest interest: the best detective novels to him. Conan knows that some people prefer other authors like Agatha Christie or Alison Gordon, but Holmes will always be the best detective in his heart. The type that Conan thrives to be, always aiming for justice and morality.

“No.” Kaito’s face scrunched up. “I’m more of a phantom-thief kind of guy. And I couldn’t even try to read it, as Hakuba has given way too many spoilers and I already know the ending to more than half of the series… Hey, don’t look at me like that. Blame Hakuba, not me!” He added the last part as Conan shot him a well-meant and pouty look. The blue-eyed boy was kind of surprised that the highschooler could read his expression at all, with how dark the trunk was.

As his brain went into thought, Conan considered the news recently. “Speaking of, isn’t Kaitou Kid a phantom thief? You mentioned being his fan the other time. Is he actually as big of news as the papers say or is he just another wannabe, petty regular human being with a few card tricks up his sleeve?” Right after, he realized that Kaito was definitely the wrong guy to ask about this- a fan would be beyond prejudiced and there was no way he would agree to Conan’s definition of a thief.

“No, of course not!” As expected, Kaito denied Conan’s words. “Kid is FAR MORE than your average ‘wannabe, petty regular human being with a few card tricks up his sleeve’. He’s as cool as me.”

As if the comparison made an ounce of difference, the highschooler said proudly as Conan stared at him with disbelief shining in his eyes. “And that’s not saying a lot.” His tone was flat. “Again, I was thinking of going to a heist or something? Only maybe, though. It's not decided yet… but I figured Heiji-nii-chan would want to come to the one that's scheduled next weekend too. He always comes on the weekends. And that Western Osakan Detective seriously is always up for a challenge.”

“You think he can beat Kid? Are you joking? That Osakan detective doesn’t stand a millimeter of a chance, much less ‘challenge him’.” Kaito huffed, saying the last two words in a sing-song way that sounded kind of icky. Conan felt just a bit irritated, and a bit offended on behalf of Hattori, who was probably rushing over to Tokyo to save them. Oh God, now that Conan realized it, Hattori couldn’t possibly go back to Osaka right after that and would most likely not have a place to stay… so the highschooler would probably have to crash with Conan. But he’s not letting that happen. Hattori could stay with Agasa and Haibara.

Tapping on the roof of the trunk with his foot, Conan moved his head to lie on his side. “Of course he does. Heiji-nii-chan could sometimes rival even Shinichi-nii-chan, so there’s no way that he couldn’t catch Kid. Heiji-nii-chan’s hotblooded at times, but he’s super smart when he needs to be.” He said it in a childish, pouty voice, joke-like but internally, Conan was dead serious. 

He respected Hattori, he really did. And in return, he was sure that Hattori respected him, too- didn’t treat him as a child like nearly everyone else did, and accompanied him, taking his words seriously. Not just some childish blabber like Kogoro did as he punched him then threw Conan’s tiny body out of the room.

(It hurt.)

“‘Shinichi-nii-chan’?” Kaito quoted, and immediately Conan internally cursed himself for saying his real identity’s name in front of such a suspect individual. “Oh, you mean Kudou Shinichi ? That one highschool detective, the one they call Heisei Holmes, Savior of the Japanese Police Force? No, I’d like to see him try to catch Kid. Kid’s much too smart for that.” Finally, those dark, indigo eyes met with Conan’s own sapphire ones. “Are you close to this ‘Shinichi-nii-chan’?”

Conan swallowed. “Y-yeah. He’s… Uh, he’s not been around for a while though. It’s like he disappeared, but I miss him because he used to play with me when I didn’t have friends.” It was a blatant lie, but he had to reinforce the idea that Kudou Shinichi wasn’t alive. Haibara had mentioned that he should be dead, marked on the list of people administered by the apotoxin that the scientist-turned-small made. Kaito… he laughed too easily, did everything too easily- didn’t seem like one of the organization but certainly had a dark streak to him that Conan couldn’t read fully. He didn’t want to take any chances, though.

Even if risk is a gamble he’s always been willing to play.

There was a quiet moment, before the teenager’s voice rang out. “Is that so… Well, that’s fine. If you ever wanna play with someone now, I’m always available~!” Kaito smiled in the dark, and Conan couldn’t think that it was for him- perhaps it was for himself, humored by his own strange sense of comedy. “Though I can’t imagine you ever not having any friends. You seemed to always be surrounded by one person or another; from that group of kids or that old man detective and the girl. You draw attention to yourself like you’re the last breath of oxygen in this world.”

Another strange reference, but Conan paid it no mind at this point and merely tipped his head against Kaito’s soft tummy. “As if. It's not like I’m anyone special, just a six-year-old kid. Besides, if I had to play with a highschooler, I’d much rather be with Ran-nee-chan or Hakuba-nii-chan. At least he likes the Sherlock Holmes series like a cultured person.”

Kaito frowned at the mention of the British highschool detective, too much to be normal. “What, so do you expect me to read that series?” He ticked at Conan’s weak point and the blue-eyed boy nearby giggled, but managed to restrain himself from doing so as Conan kicked against the highschooler’s shin with a drivel.

“I didn’t say that. But you’re certainly welcome to, even if you have been spoiled out of the fun and mystery. Maybe you can even test out your knowledge with the other books you haven’t heard of; there are some lesser known novels of Sherlock Holmes that not everyone has read.” He offered. 

The pout on the highschooler’s face became more apparent, but their strangely pleasant conversation ended with the car that they were in abruptly coming to a stop, Conan’s head nearly crashing to the side of the trunk’s wall but saved by a hand blocking between his face and the trunk side. A weight was lifted off the car, it was shaking slightly, and Conan knew that the man had gotten off the car.

A few, silent moments later, there was a click- sunlight poured into the trunk, and immediately Conan stared at Kaito, before his attention was grabbed by the abductor’s rusty and raspy voice. “The two of you, get off separately, the kid first. If you do anything or call out, I’ll shoot.” As he said, the gun was pointed right at Conan’s forehead and the kid’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait!” Kaito called, and the abductor’s eyes trailed over slowly from Conan’s face to Kaito’s, but his caution still was clear with how the man’s hand never wavered. Conan’s body tensed, not daring to put up his arm just quite yet- not with the man’s other hand holding onto the trunk’s lid, which would fall and lock as soon as the man let go and the chance was over. “Watch this.”

In Kaito’s hand was one card and the suspicion but curiosity was apparent on the kidnapper’s face. Honestly, Conan didn’t even know why he abducted them- he should have just shot them with bullets when he had the chance. Unless…

Conan held his breath. This entire time…

A flash happened, but it wasn’t like Kaito caused it as his hand waved from side to side and one card became three and three became seven, and there was a quick moment of surprise and amused admiration on the man’s face before Conan raised his arm up, pressing his tranquilizer gun, and in a split second it hit the man’s skin and he fainted onto the ground, the arm loosening from holding up the trunk. It clunked, looming downwards and falling swiftly into a close- about to lock in an instant.

Prepared, Conan’s hand moved from his own arm to his belt, pressing against the button and a soccer ball inflated in the fraction of a blink and jammed between the trunk and closing, making a gap for them to be able to open and leave without being trapped.

The fruits of the thrill died out and Conan quietly sighed in relief, as Kaito opened up the back to full and carried Conan out, kicking the ball away. He whistled. “Wow~!” The highschooler exclaimed, his voice showing that he really was impressed. “Not bad, boya. I didn’t think you’d actually be able to do it, even though I said so much… and what convenient little toys you have there.”

“...Well, a six-year-old like me definitely needs things to protect myself. You might already know this, but I attract trouble like a magnet does for metal.” He laughed, as the sun and wind breached his eyes and Conan and Kaito were free from abduction, but it wasn’t like the kid was satisfied.

“I can’t believe we had to go through all that, and all because of a fake gun…” Conan kicked the plastic, confirming by how light it was that it was just a mere counterfeit. “Even more so, I can’t believe I was actually tricked by that. What a pathetic mistake on my part.” He rubbed at his temples, brushing against his own, chocolatey strands.

But Kaito seemed to smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t notice it either.” Dramatically, he spread his hands out and his arms were so darn long that it made Conan kind of jealous. This guy was definitely born for theatics with how histrionic he was. “Oh, what an ending to all that! Now, let’s tackle the next biggest problem after escaping!”

Conan sighed. Indeed, they had to.

“So… where are we?”

 

====

 

The list went on and on, the man, the sniper, sweeping the contents of his phone with a sigh that he kept to himself. He was Akai Shuichi of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, known by some as the man that the organization feared the most.

The information that they, the FBI, have sent that little kid was beyond groundbreaking. Though he was the one who originally agreed to it, it still felt a little bit strange- he’s only heard stories about how the kid deduced that Jodie was actually an agent for the FBI. It was suspicious at best and they were playing a huge gamble by entrusting such crumbling information to a mere kid whose intentions could be bad.

But, Akai was inclined to believe that the boy, Edogawa Conan, was not on the other side. Even though they had never met directly, the fact that the kid was so quick to jump to danger and save the girl that apparently Jodie had as a student was one aspect of it, but the other was that the voice seemed so castawayly familiar and that undoubtedly, he shouldn’t have revealed himself to the FBI if he really wasn’t on their side.

So, he decided that a motion of trust was worth the risk. It was a leap of faith, really, to entrust the boy with the heap of knowledge that could prove to become their demise- or their safe haven- and it all depended on if Akai’s instinct was right. And he always did trust his own swings of feelings. 

They were nearly always accurate. Scarily so, and it, combined with his logical reason and mind, was the reason that he was still alive even after infiltrating that organization and showing that he had betrayed them. Undoubtedly, he was currently the ace against that organization- but if his instinct was right, then an ace who the enemy didn’t know was the ace would turn out to be the most effective weapon.

Perhaps trusting a little six-year-old kid was unwise, but never has Akai felt so thrown off about something before. Jodie had been groundbroken, along with James, at the deduction of a six-year-old who was a companion who they mentioned to be “Sleeping Kogoro”, a famous detective who makes his debut in papers as much as any headliner would attract it. That might also play in their favor, and it was honestly hard to say exactly or pinpoint why Akai naturally had a feeling of suspicion but also deep trust in Edogawa Conan.

Inwardly, he knew that presently, he’ll have to pay that boy a visit soon. Especially now that the organization was making their move on the chessboard, and Akai wouldn’t be lying to say that being the queen was tiresome. It may be time to install a new queen onto the board, one newly turned from a pawn to ascension. Or perhaps he put too much adhesion, too early, but Akai was willing to pull out all the stops and all the cards he had- after all, he knew that the organization was planning something devious.

To hunt down former-cardinal-organization-scientist, Miyano Shiho, codenamed Sherry, and dispose of her for good. A traitor, who also knew how the organization worked… she could also end up becoming a major player in this war. They had to find her before the organization did, and Akai had another inkling of suspicion that the boy also had an answer to that, too. And because of that, Akai was alacritous to take the potential imperilment of a road, because you could never win a battle without taking a gamble.

 

And Akai was nothing but a gambler, who was fine to take a chance with every fiber of his being.

Notes:

To start off, I just wanna clarify two things. The first was that when I meant "cute fluffy scene" last time, I didn't mean kidnapping, but it, uh, kinda just happened. Originally, Kaito and Conan were supposed to be in an arcade, yet the idea of them shuffling around made me go to the train of thought that they had been abducted and by the time I realized that I went completely off my original plan, I already had written another 5,000 words. And, there was a person who voted for Heiji for the sweet portion and I couldn't deny anyone of Heiji content, albeit little.

Another thing to clarify is that Akako is the fortune-teller with Sera. Since she is technically non-canon to Detective Conan, but I still like her, I decided that she would be in my story- but she doesn't have magic. She is an ordinary highschool girl who is beautiful and graceful in every way and believes in fortune-telling. Also, I honestly thought two weeks had passed since it was updated so I wrote an entire 7,000 words just today. Turns out only one week has past, but it's all fine. I bring to you this early update- and next chapter, we begin the transition to the next serious major arc and the end to Conan and Kaito's kidnapping.

As I mentioned in my new short story collection, That One Gem Once, I actually have another story I wrote in my free time... one where Amuro adopts Conan and I don't know if I should post it or not. If any writers want to take up the idea, go ahead! I would love to see Amuro adopting Conan, darn it. Also, if nobody noticed, I am anti-swearing and anti-lemon, so don't expect any of those two things here. I am also against saying anything religious to have no offence, but if something slips in there, let me apologize.

As always, thank you for reading, and a special thank you to the three who voted last chapter- SkylarkRequiem, Bloody_kiss, and Dol_271096! If you see any mistakes, please tell me, because I have no beta!

I appreciate all the hits, kudos, and especially comments! (Even if I don't reply to them all, rest assured that I 100% see them all. They make my day.)

Chapter 7: III Part III

Notes:

warning: guns & russian roulette, kidnapping, fear

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

Chapter Text

Chapter III Part III

 

The environment around them was the worst situation possible. A bushy forest, the absolute most terrible place to be stranded with no currently obvious ways to survive. Immediately, Conan looked up and down the landscape as far as his eyes could reach, trying to spot any distinctive landmarks.

There was, if you could call layers upon layers of trees landmarks, but the fact that the kidnapper took them all the way out here was that the man had a way to finish the both of them out here, something that may or may not be even more effective than a gun, albeit the one that was used was convincing but fake. It could be a weapon storage, it could be a deathtrap with accomplaces, or it could just be the perfect place to strand wandering annoyances. Which meant, this forest was dangerous, and he and Kaito had to get far from this place as quickly as possible. 

Using the car’s own seatbelt, Conan cleverly tied up the abductor from head to toe, strapping him in a position that surely wouldn’t be easy to undo, and wrapped the tie that was shoved in the corner around the man’s eyes so he would be too shocked to move. They only had a couple hours, hopefully, before the perpetrator woke up, and they were going to live through it fine if he had a say in it.

Taking out his phone, Conan called the police, and was both simultaneously relieved and unnerved that the call actually went through, and that established that he could get service from all the way out here. The police officer Takagi picked up, his voice echoing strangely, “Conan-kun? Are you safe?”

“Yes and no,” Conan answered in as forcing of a calm voice as he could make. “Kaito-nii-chan and I got away from the kidnapper, but now we’re stranded in a forest.” The sharp intake of breath on the other end and the scrambling for what appeared to be paper and a pencil, and the blue-eyed boy continued. “We shouldn't be too far from Tokyo, and could you… send out a search party?”

“Of course! It might take some time, though, so remain where you are! Stay safe!”

It was a really worried and genuinely concerned voice, and the sweet warning pooled something warm into Conan’s stomach. It felt good that people cared so much for him, even if they knew that he was capable enough to fend for himself. With a cutesy tone, Conan said, “I will, Takagi-keiji! Thanks!” 

With a small finger pressing on the bright, red button, he hung up, still trying to preserve as much battery as possible, but the nine percent flashing on screen was alarming. He leaned back into a nearby tree, watching how the sky was a crimson one. So reminiscent of blood, so familiar, that it didn’t make Conan flinch at all to see the devastatingly bright color that marked dusk’s transition to night.

“You know policemen?” Surprised, Kaito said, putting a hand onto Conan’s shoulder. Immediately after he said that the highschooler blinked with indigo eyes and laughed, “Of course you do- what could I have expected? You run into cases every second day. The police around here are not very proficient though.”

Offended by the offhand comment, the sapphire-eyed boy stiffened. “Don’t be so rude to the police, Kaito-nii-chan. I’m not going to let you offend them- they’re all great!” Rolling his eyes then crossing his arms, Conan said, wondering if there was another layer behind the now pouting highschooler’s words. Finally, after a sharp moment of silence, Kaito bowed his head and Conan guessed that it would be the closest to an apology he could get, and instead of arguing more Conan’s eyes diverted to around, before small fingers wrapped themselves around Kaito’s wrist as he started to drag the highschool into the forest. The words remain where you are that he just heard made absolutely no impact on Conan’s decisions.  

Confused, Kaito’s voice rang out. “What are you doing?” He asked, as Conan’s eyes widened and he finally put Kaito’s hand down.

“Oops. Sorry, Kaito-nii-chan. I didn’t mean to pull.” Halfheartedly, the blue-eyed boy apologized, before coming around to examine the environment around without any more contact. There was the smell of pungent dirt close to the ground as Conan crouched low, which signified that what he was looking for was close around. It was a bit of a clearing, too, and it was drafty but not too cold or hot. Perhaps they found the sleeping quarter for tonight.

With furrowed brows, Kaito stood there with hands on his hips. “I didn’t mean why you were holding my hand, Conan-kun.” He sounded nearly disappointed but more so curious, and the kid didn’t ask why as he continued to look around the place, sometimes fumbling around with the trees or frolicking with bushes and tall grass on the ground. “What are you looking for?”

Startled, Conan looked back at Kaito, a frown evident on his face. “What do you mean? Did I overestimate you? I thought you were sharper than that, Kaito-nii-chan.” Mercilessly expressing disappointment, he continued. “I’m looking for a water source to survive the night.”

If it was anyone else (except those who knew his identity of Kudou Shinichi), Conan probably wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but after escaping the kidnapping alongside Kaito, he feels like pretending to be all innocent and sweet and childishly witness would be fake enough to be seen through in an instant. Up to then, the amount of times he’s shown that he wasn’t in a kid-like state of mind was enough for anyone to wonder about him.

“How mean.” Though his words remained light, airy, and almost teasing, Kaito’s voice changed to be more suffocating and it was like quicksand with how strangely ominous it was. This made Conan frown more, but not for long, as he shuffled down the other side of the road, and all coldness seeped out of the child’s voice and was replaced with a tone of genuine delight.

“I found a stream!” He exclaimed, pawing at the water behind the blades of grass, watching it flow down his hand and though he expected it, it still brought a proud, happy feeling into his heart. 

Surprised, Kaito fumbled over too, completely forgetting about his formerly down tone, and his eyes lit up as Conan beamed up at him. “Woah… we have our water source!” The highschooler cried, raising up a hand to cheer, as the excitement drained from Conan’s sapphire eyes as the kid put his mouth into a pout. Inquiringly, Kaito looked down, pinching the side of the kid’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“...Hey, Kaito-nii-chan, you said you were a magician, right? What supplies do you have on you?” Slumping into Kaito’s hold, Conan said, pressing against the small bridge of his nose. Puzzled, the highschooler pulled out his pockets and in his hands were a small foundation makeup case, a packet of cards, a round ping-pong ball, a plastic water bottle, a box of matches, small sheets of flash paper, tissues and normal papers, clad-white gloves, and a small knife.

He’s not going to be asking about the makeup, but sighing in relief, Conan gently grabbed the matches and plastic bottle, weaving them with his fingers. “What do you need them for?” He asked, pressing against the kid’s temple.

“With the matches, at least we can start a fire. And to make the water drinkable;” he continued, grabbing the small knife from a concerned Kuroba Kaito, and he cut the top nozzle of the bottle off. Afterwards, he twisted the cap, popping it, and placed the head upside-down in the body of the cup, before taking the knife and putting it down while taking the tissue and pressing it flat against the head of the cup.

A small body suddenly stood up, going to the side to look around, leaving the unfinished contraption just lying on the ground. “Help me find sand or gravel,” Conan mentioned quietly, and Kaito shuffled to do what he said before he held up a handful of sand, a small grin plastered on his face. Somewhat delighted by this new find, Conan held the highschooler’s hand and shuffled it for the sand to pour onto the paper, before patting the man’s fingers off of the stains. 

“There we go,” Conan said happily, proceeding to fish the water out from the stream into the device that they had made swiftly. “Pseudo-water-filter, finished!” The hand that rose up in front of his face signalled for Conan to answer Kaito’s call for a high-five, and the former obliged, doing it out of pure joy. 

“Nice!” Kaito threw the blue-eyed boy a thumbs up, before wrapping his long arms around Conan’s neck. Pouting, Conan struggled to move out, and eventually broke free to look for twigs and branches that would be able to sustain their little haven of a fire over the night.

The pile that they made in the center of the clearing was one of woods, thick and thin, and using the matches Kaito started the flame insisting that kids shouldn’t be playing with fire, much to the annoyance of the boy. With a flash, the embers flew out into the air and Conan instinctively came closer to the warmth, surprised at how he was so cold that he had forgotten that he even was chilling to begin with. Fire was dangerous and risky, though. It would be a life-saver in the hands of hypothermia, but one wrong move and it would burn the entire forest down- and the two of them with it, too.

Noting how Conan leaned closer to the fire, Kaito put a hand on the back of the kid’s neck and observed how he was shivering, but it wasn’t like the blue-eyed boy paid much attention to that. Instead, Conan’s mind was filled with thoughts and plans and things of another, grasping against loose threads. Here he was, relaxing against a flame. He could almost even say it was like camping with the Detective Boys and Agasa on weekends, if he tried to convince himself. But Conan knew that things were approaching and to protect Haibara, he had to do something about it.

His attention to his mind was only lifted when, without warning, soft material in the shape of a coat was placed on his own shoulders. Conan looked up, eyes batting lashes in confusion, when Kaito sent him a cheeky smile and patted his head. With a face full of puzzlement, the kid looked up. “What’s this for?” He asked, pawing at the soft jacket, and kind of stunned by the high quality of the fabric. Where do people buy clothes as nice as this? Surely not in Beika.

“C’mon, you’re cold, are you not?” Kaito smiled, ruffling around the dark strands of hair until Conan lumped down with annoyance, but with an ounce of concern and gratitude in his castaway gaze. “This is exactly like the time with the umbrella, Kaito-nii-chan- Aren’t you cold now?” He shivered against the coat, kind of glad that Kaito brought it even though it was warm today.

“Oh, don’t joke around. I’m seventeen. Se-ven-teen,” he elongated each syllable playfully, as if Conan didn’t understand the first time around. “A six-year-old needs it much more than I do. What will I do if this little boy that got kidnapped with me gets hypothermia because I didn’t lend my coat?”

This answer just made sapphire eyes narrow, before cogs turned in his head and the kid flipped his head around, pouting with a mild blush dusting his face. “... Barou. As if I need your help…” But he flicked his eyes to indigo ones and back, before mumbling an embarrassed “Thanks.”

Again, he made the comparison between Kuroba Kaito and Amuro Tooru. Why do they feel so instinctively similar? Yet they acted so differently. Kaito was more playful, Amuro was more kind. But they both feel like they are trying to hide something.

Later that evening, a call broke out of Conan’s phone and he picked it up, hoping dearly that it was the police force- but his ears were ruined by the abrupt yelling of a familiar, Osakan voice. “KUDOU!?” The voice screamed into his ear, making the kid flinch before settling down.

Face scrunched up in annoyance at the use of his real name, Conan sat down. “Heiji-nii-chan, calm down. Kaito-nii-chan and I are fine. We knocked out the guy and tied him up, and we’re currently in a forest. There’s a search party too. Chances are, we’ll be rescued by dawn at the latest.”

The calmness that he poured into his words might have affected Hattori, because the man’s voice was far more collected by the second word he spoke. “Fine! But there’s multiple ways for a person ta die. What if ya run out’a food or water or get too cold or somethin’?” Was it just him or was Hattori’s voice more scruffy than before? If it was, then Conan didn’t have a reason why and instead ignored it for later. The battery was running lower by the second and there was no time to waste.

“Heiji-nii-chan, trust me.” He snapped out of his childish voice to emphasize on the last two words, putting pressure on the fact that though he looked like a six-year-old, he was a highschooler capable of fending himself off. “You think I haven’t figured all that out already?”

Finally, there was silence, before a stiff voice spoke up. “...Do you have any idea of where ya are, besides the whole ‘forest’ schtick?” This made Conan pause.

“... Don’t even think about coming here when night is approaching.”

A denial lumped up in the Osakan’s throat, but before he could continue, Conan spoke up. “Listen, Heiji-nii-chan, go to Hiroshi Agasa’s house, Beika Town, District Two, Block Twenty-two. Tell them that I- Edogawa Conan, you know what I mean, told you to stay there. I’ll meet up with you tomorrow morning, ‘kay?” It was his attempt at comfort but it sounded more like a demand than he would have liked.

“...Fine… but… stay safe, Kudou.” Hattori said with a gruff, very hesitatingly and Conan had half the mind to fear that Hattori would just suddenly jump and announce that he would be going to go find them, but he luckily did no such thing as Conan hung up before there was another word. 

Conan stretched his arms outwards, shaking his head. How tiring it was to get kidnapped then stranded in a forest. A one out of ten star experience, would not recommend it again. He was always so alert for danger that was real, terrifying dark organization danger that felt somewhat natural. Which wasn’t good.

“The detective?” A hand was put on his shoulder and Conan slowly looked back, before he blinked and realized that Kaito was talking about Hattori. 

“Yeah, Heiji-nii-chan. He… he… he really didn’t have to go through all that to come and save us.”

Not noticing how Kaito’s expression tightened by the most miniscule amount because of his distracting thoughts, Conan continued to talk. “He’s so dumb, even if he calls himself a detective… but I’m really glad he’s my friend. I don’t know what I would do if I hadn’t met Heiji-nii-chan.”

There was a strange silence hanging between them for a few seconds, before Conan leaned into Kaito’s criss-crossed body for comfortable warmth. As if surprised, the magician blinked, before they settled into a pleasant quiet, where the flames flickering in front of them under the crimson sky looked like a rose or a flower or something in between. Unintentionally, Conan’s thoughts wandered to flower language, mind scrolling but his head was sleepy as he struggled to keep his eyelids open.

At long last, several minutes later, the peacefulness was broken. “...You only met because that Osakan loudmouth wanted to meet whoever this ‘Kudou Shinichi’ is…”  Absent-mindedly, the highschooler spoke up, but it was a breath to nobody as Conan snored softly against his stomach. And Kaito knows this, not bothering to care that he was speaking to an unconscious kid. “And… the strangest thing is that he called you ‘Kudou’ over the phone. That detective-chan isn’t stupid, even though he appears to be as dumb as a rock that one time I went with you to the Sherlock Holmes party… Unless my hypothesis is right… so why would that be?”

There was no response, not that Kaito was expecting one as he hummed, but what there were was the light snoring against the flickering embers and casting shadows.

 

“Let’s play russian roulette, Ki-kun!”

He blinked, mind fluttering from a place he’s never been to, sapphire eyes watching those ones that stared back at him, incomprehensibly hands toying with a gun. The metal gleaned in that kid’s hands and the other shook the bullets, taking only five out of the six-calibered chamber, and handed it to him. Taking the familiar piece of steel in his hands, Fubuki raised up the gun, hesitatingly flickering his eyes between his friend’s face and the gun.

Finally, he turned his head away, tipping it slightly. “...Don’t you have a better game to play?” He lightly asked, pressing the nozzle against his temple. There was no rush of fear, strangely enough- not like the type described in books, and nor did he feel any anxiety from the fact that pressing on the trigger might lead to the end of his life. He waved the gun around a little bit.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a bore.” His friend said, smiling, patting Fubuki’s head softly, ruffling the dark strands. “We can play for ten rounds, and if we both live, we can call it fate, right? While that’s happening, we can even play truth-or-dare.”

How carefree. As always.

With minor reluctance, Fubuki stared at the determined eyes of the child that looked back, and he couldn’t deny his friend anything when his friend was the one who gave him his everything. So, he nodded, watching as the smile blossomed further on their pale face, and the friend started by pointing the gun at their head. “I’ll begin,” they laughed, pulling the trigger without a doubt and there was only the empty sound of the trigger being pulled. 

“Guess I live. Now, ask me of truth-or-dare, Ki-kun.” The casual way that they acknowledged their life didn’t make either side bat an eye as they spun the bullet barrel, making sure it was thoroughly randomized before he spoke and had the gun handed to him. “Truth or dare...?” Fubuki asked, as per his friend’s wish, and they smiled with a smooth ‘truth’.

Fubuki nodded, mind quickly generating what to ask. Though he and his friend have known each other for some time, neither side really knew each other all that well and he’d even say that his only friend knew more about him than he does the other. “Where are your parents? ...I don’t ever see them around...” He inquired the first question, and the one most on his mind.

It was true. The two of them generally stayed inside the house with no sign of his friend’s guardians around, and the single other person around was the butler who showed distinct distaste for Fubuki, like perhaps everyone else that has ever gotten in contact with him- other than the child in front of him, currently blinking at his question.

Everyone who has abandoned him. From one to another, they all looked at him in disgust, hating his gaze, hated him all, hated his very existence as a person who didn’t have a home. As a little pesky kid, too precocious and smart, more so than the rich children and their expensive education. They hated him for being different, hated him for being better, and still hated him for being taken in by a family that never showed up. The butler hated him, the parents were gone, and the only person Fubuki knew that didn’t think of him as an anomaly and annoyance was the child in front of him.

His friend stiffened but just barely, as if reading his thoughts, and they gave a quirky smile. “They’re away, in another city… but don’t worry about that, Ki-kun. As I’ve said before, we don’t need others.” 

They had taken care of him when nobody else was around, when the first thing he could recall other than the blinding, white room, and the next was that he was in an unfamiliar place with only his friend. His friend, who he trusted dearly, who had given him his meals and shelter and a home. Given him a place to stay, a place that he could almost feel like he was a part of.

If only.

The grin continued to stay on their face as they handed the gun to Fubuki, who, without hesitation, pointed it at his own head and pressed the trigger in one nifty moment. Again, it merely clicked and no bullet fired, and the calmness of his own heart was unsettling to anyone else. “I see,” he observed, keeping the nozzle to his own temple before he remembered to put it down under the friend’s watchful eye.

After it fell onto his knee, they piped up. “Truth or dare?” His friend asked, leaning forward so their faces were close. Close enough for the lighting to not affect how Fubuki’s breath was just barely pitching.

“Dare.” Deciding to be more bold than his friend, which was terribly unusual, Fubuki said, and he blinked when the other’s expression tightened obviously to think of a suitable dare. He gulped. His friend usually thought up the weirdest games and was kind of really reckless, convincing Fubuki to do things with him.

Do things like make extremely realistic catapults that could shoot out small rocks, do things like paint walls blue in the monochrome look of the mansion, then having to clean it up, do things like climb over the garden gate of the mansion in spite of the servant’s complaint and end up being hurt from bullying as soon as his friend took a blind eye. That last one… it brought a sense of dread into Fubuki. He somewhat remembered them getting back to him with a concerned look on their face before they brought him back into the haunting mansion and they went out while the servant treated his injuries. 

Sulkily, he remembered that very servant had decided to use unnecessarily large amounts of alcohol to clean the wounds, making them painfully swell, before not bothering to bandage them up and just leaving him there while they supposedly went to grab medication. But Fubuki wasn’t stupid and knew that the servant had disliked him- like about everybody else- and saw, from the gap of the room, that the butler was drinking tea peacefully, having the supposed medication sitting next to him, on the table- and the label read ‘adult iron pills’.

Having read books somewhere in the past, Fubuki naturally knew that iron pills for adults can kill a kid, making them throw up blood or have bloody diarrhea within an hour. The servant was smart and had been serving his friend’s family for a long time… there was no way that a professional didn’t know about the dangers of an adult-strength medication, iron pills nonetheless, for a child. Not to mention that there was no reason to feed him an iron pill to begin with.

That night, Fubuki refused to eat the pills, secretly hiding them in his fists while he pretended to have eaten them. The butler must have been shocked that he didn’t die or have anything near-fatal, but the only good thing that happened that day was that at night, his friend brought him a stack of the Sherlock Holmes series he had wanted to read for a while. And the strangest part of all was that by next morning, when Fubuki had read the news, there were four new corpses hanged on top of the village cemetery, and they were the four kids that had bullied him the day before.

“I dare you to pretend to be a cat.” Playfully, his friend said, snapping Fubuki out of his thoughts and immediately after registering what the other had said, Fubuki shook his head. “I’m not doing that!”

“But you have to. You picked dare!”

Grounchily, Fubuki looked up. “Truth, then.” he replied, consequently mirroring the other who nearly frowned at his straightforwardness. After a stifling moment of silence, they pausingly pressed forward, rising above him, who was sitting. 

In a nervous tone as well as diverting their eyes, they asked in a nonchalant tone; “Do you like your old life rather than this life that I’ve given you?”

With the sound of this question, Fubuki’s expression froze and he leaned back. 

“...You know the answer to that better than anyone.”  

The definite statement was true, and finally did an anomaly of a heartbeat pattern rise in his chest. Then, he handed the gun back to his friend, and now he was the one to be smiling. “And if you’re going to ask such obvious questions, let’s not play with this empty gun.”

“Aw, so you really were humoring me. And I thought that I finally slipped something past you.” Their expression didn’t waver, even if their voice sounded almost upset. “Guess I should be none the wiser than you saw through me only having five bullets in the gun barrel to begin with.”

 

Conan woke up with a start, distressingly rubbing at his eyes as the dream fluttered away like mist. He couldn’t grasp onto it- the first mirage that finally felt like a piece to the puzzle that was his memories, but it faded away so fast from his mind.

Blinking, blue eyes hastened, trying to recall the memory in the guise of a dream, but to no avail as he sighed. Never has his memory failed him before now, and it slipped away so fast that Conan sighed, grating against the side of his head. The name… something... ahh, it's all gone. As fast as it came it all disappeared, and the child shook his head before realizing that he was still against a highschooler’s side.

There was quiet snuffling above him, and he looked up, careful not to move too much in case of waking up Kaito, until he realized that the highschooler was just catering to an act with the twitch of a smile in the corner of the magician’s mouth.  Grouchily pouting despite himself, Conan pinched the bridge of the now-trying-to-hide-a-smirk-highschooler's nose, and he realized the jig was up because the feral grin changed to full-blown laughter.

Not understanding what was so funny, Conan just stared upwards with a raised eyebrow.

One of the things that Conan has noticed so far was that Kaito was a drama queen, wiping away at non-existent tears of his laughter, and this just made the blue-eyed kid look up with even more mildly amused aggravation. He was aware that he was pursing his lips at this point but instead of bothering to fix the grown-up look, he continued to show his disapproval until the laughing fair stopped, with long huffs of breath. Indigo eyes met with sapphire ones and there was an unexpectedly uncomfortable moment of silence before Conan stopped caring, and decided to observe his surroundings instead.

The sky was still crimson, but in this case, the fire had gone out- and the sun was on the side opposite to the direction that Conan had remembered, which meant it was morning, and he knew that soon enough, they would be definitely rescued. Even though he as Shinichi liked to show off his deductions sometimes, the Japanese Police were perfectly capable. Certainly a search team would find them soon enough.

With this thought in mind, Conan pushed Kaito away, standing up and patting off the dust along his pants, but he kind of underestimated how unprepared the highschooler was because he rolled a meter away, head hitting against the trunk of a tree. Conan raised an eyebrow, sighing, then debated whether to help or not- on one hand, he did just push Kaito until he bumped into the tree, but on the other hand, Kaito was a highschooler. And he didn’t know that Conan was one, too, so should a six-year-old really be helping a seventeen-year-old get up?

At long last, he gave in to his nature and decided to help Kaito up, reaching out before the indigo eyes blinked up in surprise and took the hand with an unbidden grin, smiling innocently, much to Conan’s narrow-eyed annoyance. 

“Thank~! Also-!” Kaito’s gratitude was cut off sorely when the faint sounds in the distance caused Conan to put a hand in front of the highschooler, telling him to stop talking. “What?” The magician asked, as Conan dropped his hand with a relatively relieved expression drawing on his face.

“I hear police sirens. Shh. Do you hear that?” Conan whirled his finger around in the direction against the forest, before the kid reached into Kaito’s pockets to grab out the matches and lit the campfire. Even though Kaito acted dumb, Conan knew he wasn’t really all that stupid, and the meaning was clear.

It was a signal. A signal that was a flame in the dark, something that would make the search party find them quicker. Yelling would be much more efficient, but it could attract unwanted dangers- who knew what was still out there in the forest, and it wasn’t like they had fireworks or anything of the sort to signal with. For a second, there was silence except the sounds of the wind and crickets, along with the drawing closer sounds of sirens.

As it came closer and closer, the two didn’t make a sound, just watching the edges of the clearing with wary but excited eyes and soon enough, there were flashlights and Conan had never been so happy to see the police in his life. There was Takagi, looking relieved at their rescue, and strong, policeman arms lifted him up from off the ground and- to Conan’s surprise- a certain blonde detective stepped forth too.

“Takagi-keiji, could you arrest our abductor? They’re tied up in a car over there in the forest,” Conan asked sweetly, and the officer was surprised but nodded for people to go as he patiently waited for both Conan and Kaito to get on the police trucks. Sensing a person approaching, Conan looked back.

They had met once before, and only once before.

Hakuba Saguru, highschool detective from England, dressed up in a suit and looking distasteful at the man over Conan’s shoulder. Thankfully that sour look wasn’t directed at him, because Conan has never been blasted with such a glare in his life- not even by Megure, realizing that he was running around on a crime scene, or Kogoro, noticing that he kept pointing things out and throwing him out of a room, or Sonoko, who thought of him- as Kudou Shinichi- as a passionate little bug.

“Kuroba-kun.”

The bitter taste evident in Hakuba’s mouth was unnerving, and if the negative look could be anything to go by, Conan would almost say that the composed detective was mad. 

“What, Bastard Hakuba? Why are you here, anyways?” Those indigo eyes narrowed. Conan didn’t recall their conversation being so cut short last time- as he could think of, they were more-or-less talking in a playful tune, something jokingly between competitive classmates. In the back of his mind, he registered that something must have happened between now and their last meeting.

The golden-haired detective looked deeply into Kaito’s eyes. “This is a known forest around the Ekoda area. I just so happened to be at the police headquarters because of a case and I found out that you, along with some kid, got kidnapped.”

“Yeah, and? We’re fine now, thank you very much.” Looking slyly at the blonde, the magician added on another line, his tone becoming more bitter by the second. “Geez, no need to be so concerned. You certainly didn’t seem to care when she threw my phone into the lake and I dove into the water to retrieve it.”

Trying to hide his furrowed brows, Conan’s mind spiraled off into what they could possibly be talking about. The “she” in the sentence most likely was referring to a classmate, but it could also mean his mother or a familial figure. And Kaito was so upset about his phone being tossed into the water and jumped into a lake to grab it, even though logically his phone wouldn’t work after that? What could be so important on the phone that he could be so protective of it?

“...That was different,” Hakuba said coldly, crossing his arms. “Aoko-san was scared. Would you have preferred me to help you, potential suspect, to find your phone, rather than help Aoko-san calm down?”

This confirmed a few things- one, that the “she” from earlier likely referred to whoever this “Aoko” was. Two, she was scared of something, and that for whatever reason made her throw out Kaito’s phone. Which meant that the first conclusion to make was that Aoko saw something on Kaito’s phone that resulted in her fearing the contents and throwing the phone into a lake.

But what?

There goes him to add another two tallys on Conan’s internal tally list of Kuroba Kaito’s suspiciousness. The probability of Kaito hiding something just went up by fifteen percent. Even though he acted all so nice, there would be one of these flashes of a dark moment- an ominous aura- and only during those times does Conan suspect him of having a darker side to him. He sighed, very mature, contrary to his currently childish looks, and it was like Hakuba finally realized he was here.

“Oh… it’s…” his voice stiffened as the English detective looked down at Conan with milky brown eyes. “Hello, Edogawa Conan-kun.” That reaction wasn’t right, but he stuck to his childish facade from earlier as they met. “Hakuba-no-nii-chan?” He asked upwards, putting as much effort into his puppy eyes as he could, and he tugged on Kaito’s shirt for show. “Could you get us out of here before all that?”

Takagi, who had been silently and surprisedly watching the entire confrontation up until then, finally snapped out of whatever world his brain was in and took Conan gently by the arm. The contact hurt, but he wasn’t ever one to complain as they led themselves into a police car.

A third surprise came when another familiar face showed up.

“Hattori!” Surprised, Conan forgot to use the boyish honorifics as his mouth pursed in surprise, sapphire eyes widening at the sight of the Osakan already waiting in a police car for him with a relieved smile. Luckily, nobody noticed him not adding the extra words as he collected himself. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay at Agasa-hakase’s manor!”

No, he shook his head. He should have expected that Hattori wouldn’t heed his warning. The brash detective was so hot-blooded at times like this, relying on instinct rather than logic- which was what made him so dependable in a desperate moment. “Listen! I wasn’t gonna letcha’ just be stranded out here. And look, I stayed at yer inventor friend’s laboratory with the onee-chan for the night, okay? I just called up a policeman to drive me to the forest I heard was being searched from that policeman this morning!”

“Which policeman would allow you to hop in a car to a forest where there was already a search party going on?” It was an honest question, one that Conan paired well with bedevilment. 

However, now that Hattori’s initial relieved phase ended, a snicker and a craft, jokey smile rose up to his face. “...I actually had helped an ouji-san with a murder case while he was sick once in Osaka, so he’s felt indebted to me. Told me that if I ever needed a drive ‘round Tokyo, he'd do it for me. And I just took ‘im up on his offer.”

The security officer sitting in the front row nodded.

There were footsteps from behind. “Wow. So many detectives.” Unamused, Kaito’s voice rang out and it seemed like Takagi managed to stop Kaito and Hakuba from arguing. “There’s one Bastard Hakuba and one loudmouthed Osakan. What a day.” Even though it was meant to be offending to Hattori, the highschooler’s first reaction was to smirk at Conan for not being included in the list before he seethed.

“I’m not loud! I’m only here for Ku-C-c-c- oh, for darn’s sake, this brat. Ya can go ride on a bike with other officers for all you choose.”

Mouth full of protests, Kaito spoke up pettily, shooting a finger at the pestered highschooler next to him. “Fine! But I’m not sitting in the same car as Hakuba!”

Conan looked around. “...But there’s only two cars for carrying the four of us… I don’t think Takagi-keiji expected either Heiji-nii-chan or Hakuba-nii-chan to be around, so there’s only one actual police car and one car that you’re in, Heiji-nii-chan.” 

The four of them looked at each other, everyone with an annoyed expression on their faces, and after another long-heated argument where Conan was tugged on by Hattori then Hakuba was pinched by Kaito and vice versa, it had been chosen by Takagi that Conan would sit on a car with Hakuba and Hattori and Kaito would be sitting together.

Conan had to admit that he and Hakuba had a lovely conversation about Sherlock Holmes and about the many cases that Hakuba Saguru had solved, and by the time that Hattori came out, his skin had changed three tones lighter. The surprising part was the bird now perched on the Osakan detective’s head, not willing to get off and grabbing onto the dark hair, and he looked at the cheekily smiley magician behind him with a bitter look on his face.

 

==

 

Ding-Dong.

She blinked harshly, eyelashes fluttering against the sound of the doorbell ringing, and against the snoring professor Haibara Ai got up off the couch to open the door. Unsurprisingly there stood one Edogawa Conan, or Kudou Shinichi, but she wouldn’t admit the relief that she had felt seeing that her friend was still alive and well. Internally, she knew that he would be fine- he was Kudou Shinichi, Heisei Holmes, after all- but it still gave a soft pound to her heart reminiscent of alleviation.

When that one weird highschool detective- (no, they all are weird, she admitted to herself) showed up on their doorsteps, being Hattori Heiji, and announced that Edogawa Conan had been abducted, it came as a heavy shock to both she and the professor- but did it, really? Now that she thought about it, something like this was bound to happen one day, with how much Kudou got into trouble.

But that was not what unnerved her. It was the highschooler supposedly abducted with Kudou that made her just a bit agitated. Kuroba Kaito… Haibara couldn’t read his presence. It was either a perfectly average human’s or a dark one, similar to them but not, but cleverly concealed. Being so unsure of herself was one of the reasons that Haibara hadn’t brought it up to Kudou quite yet. The highschooler, turning into a six-year-old, was already stressful enough. 

Haibara has seen what happens when you put too much stress on elite organization members. She doesn’t even want to see what will happen if she subjects Kudou to too much pressure… and it would emotionally pain her, as much as she hated to admit it, to see Kudou crumble under stress.

It would cost him his life. It was that simple.

Standing behind Kudou was the Osakan detective himself, smiling nervously at her, while Kudou was being oblivious to it. So Hattori didn’t tell Kudou about how he was kicked in the shin for not going to save Kudou, and kicked again in the stomach for proceeding to eat their food. If not for the fact that it probably really was Kudou that wanted him to stay, Haibara might have just kicked him out for his rudeness.

Except he looked weird. What was up with the strange change of skin tone and the creamy white feathers scattered across, ruffled in his hair? And why was Kudou looking so vexed by it? 

“O-onee-chan…” Ah, so he really was afraid, by the tremble in his voice. “I, uh, don’t have any place to go, and, uh, Kudou invited me here…” it was no surprise by now that both parties of this exchange knew Edogawa Conan’s true identity. Pursing her lips, Haibara leaned back into the door, and sighed while letting the Osakan detective in as he drew in an alleviated, shaky breath.

Immediately after he came in, Hattori charged to the nearby washroom and closed the door with force that was anything but gentle, and he didn’t even dare to look Haibara in the eyes anymore. “What’s up with him…?” Kudou asked, sapphire eyes looking dully at his running form, passively curious but it wasn’t a question for Haibara. By now, she understood him well, and she could tell it was more a inquiresy for himself.

Scrambling footsteps echoed from the washroom and Haibara, against her better will, gave off a lighthearted chuckle. But before she spoke up again, something snapped in Kudou and using his small body, he turned Haibara over to stare him in the eyes, blue to turquoise, putting his hands on her shoulder.

Shocked, Haibara didn’t utter a word, but Kudou did. “Haibara.” He said her name with such pressure that it made her break out of whatever place his mind was. “Listen to me. Something is going to-!”

His words were cut off by the sound of knocking on the door, but it wasn’t that which already distracted Haibara.

It was that ghastly presence. One such that completely affirmed that whoever stood on the opposite side of that front door… was in fact a member of the organization. She shivered. She wanted to cry but won’t, and held onto Kudou, not wanting to open the door.

But Kudou did, not knowing about the dangers, and he opened the door before Haibara could bring herself to protest. Her eyes didn’t dare to wander upwards, not when she knew exactly what she would see.

“...Are you Edogawa Conan?”

Without looking, Haibara already knew that Kudou was stiffening. The voice… it was deep, definitely an adult’s voice, and she had the strangest feeling that she had already heard before. But Kudou didn’t know that and all feelings of self-preservation within Haibara made her pull up her hood, even in the safety of a house, and cover up her face.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, please don’t notice-

“Are you looking for him?” A sharp voice accused, tone lightheartedly curious but there was a chill of iciness. So he noticed how Haibara was shivering, then...

A chuckle came from the deep-voiced stranger, and it became much more unreadable in the span of a few seconds. 

 

“So you are, then. Well, come outside. You and I… we need to have a chat.”

Notes:

This very not-well-written and very conan-centric chapter was done at two in the morning. I apologize!

I have so many things I want to address but I need sleep right now. For now, I'll say that I wasn't planning to be posting this chapter until Sunday, but over the weekend I have some personal business to do and won't have technologies for that period. I am leaving tomorrow. Because of that, I decided to rush this chapter to post today. Besides, it has to be short. This is literally part three of this chapter. The other two are 10,000 words long each, and in total, this chapter is about 27,000~.

First flashback before Fubuki became Kirsche, ooh?

This week I will be posting another story to my collection, That One Gem Once. There are four that I started and I will finish one to post every week of August, so stay tuned.

I will write this some other time. Need sleep. As always, thank you for reading, and tell me if I have any mistakes! I have no beta and I appreciate all hits, kudos, and especially comments!

Chapter 8: IV Part I

Notes:

warning: presumably hallucinations/illusions, explicit and twisted descriptions of fear and death (or suicide by gun)

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

Chapter Text

Chapter IV Part I

 

He sat by the Mouri Detective Agency, folded envelope tapping peacefully within his tanned hands, as Bourbon looked off impatiently to the side of the horizon. The weather was nice. Too nice and far too warm against his rigid skin, and he felt the weight of the gun in his pocket more than ever.

Strange. Anyone here, wandering around so innocently and some walking straight, some tall, some hanging around with children- they could be Rum, or even another master of disguise, and he wouldn’t even doubt it. Yet he didn’t really feel like putting his guard up. What a pathetic excuse of a Public Security agent he was… He couldn’t even do such a simple feat of which the newest of police members could do. 

Ahh. It kind of felt good to admit it to himself, even if the rush of some diseased, different emotion came bolting into his chest, too. Even if what he was doing was per the organization’s- in particular, Vermouth’s orders, it felt sickening to feel so casual to just follow imperatives. 

It was the same with PSB- But, Bourbon doesn’t understand exactly why he feels more… alive, when he was adhering to that darned organization’s orders. Perhaps, as he thought about it, Bourbon’s head spun faster down the line, his own twisted personality and mind was exactly why the PSB had assumed he would be the right man for infiltrating it. 

But then, why Hiro? Why? The sunniest man of them all, supportive, the one that gave the man once called Furuya Rei a chance at seeing beautiful hope for the first time.

His phone buzzed, and head deep in thought, Bourbon fished out his phone, swiping upwards to meet his eyes with a single message, deleted in the next moment. Impatient, impudent- He knew what was coming next this week night, even if he didn’t exactly understand why Vermouth was so set on capturing a kid. For this one operation, it didn’t really seem suitable to take Vermouth, Everclear and himself.

Just what was the organization planning?

Bourbon sighed, letting the winds sink into his skin as his patience continues to run thinner and thinner by the second, waiting for the detective, girl and kid to finally show up back at their very own agency. Luckily, Cafe Poirot was closed down today due to air ventilation issues, caused by an unfortunate plate thrown by an angry customer that a fly, which he placed himself, was in his food- he was so angry that Bourbon saw through him that he decided to rant it out in a horrid way which ended up getting him arrested due to the plate shattering when hit by the conditioner and hitting Azusa on the head.

He, of course, as Amuro Tooru, was so very concerned for Azusa, but he could admit to himself- in the safety of his own head, right here, as Furuya Rei, as Bourbon, that he couldn't care less. So what if Enomoto Azusa got injured for something? Just one more person on the list of people hurt, relating to Bourbon.

People would be far safer if they stayed away from him. Policemen, government officials, organization members and even mini-death lords were all no exception. Especially children of which death seemed to follow wherever they went, as courtesy of his information.

As if on cue, a small boy was walking next to him, with a girl wearing a red cloak following and they seemed to be chatting about something or another. Large, circularly-square glasses, framing round sapphire-blue eyes, chocolatey brown hair in a cowlick, as well as thin figure, walking past relaxedly with strange grace for a six-year-old. Edogawa Conan, whom Bourbon- not as Bourbon, but as Amuro Tooru, the kind and gentle worker at Poirot who happens to be a private detective- had met previously once on a case.

But the curious one was the girl following. Her hair was brown, a light reddish shade, clipped short just above the shoulders with pale skin and had turquoise eyes, ranging from sea green when surprised to a moody blue hue when distressed or bored. She was a bit taller than Conan, walking by with no cutesy bubble like kids their age ought to have, and she was there too, at the case where a person died from strangulation at the party rooms. And her face…

They passed innocently, not noticing him, and Bourbon let them walk with no problem as they turned.

Cold, grey-blue eyes stared off, listening to the sound of cars driving by, just as a shadow loomed right next to him. A figure. Tall, with dark, ebony-black hair, skin clearly in tan yet grey unhealthily, walking by with a cigarette lit in his mouth, a long grey trench coat sweeping over his shoulders. Though Bourbon couldn’t see his face clearly, he recognized them immediately as the man he hated most, trudding right by him unexpressively as if Akai Shuichi didn’t stop the death of the one person that he, as Furuya Rei, as Zero, held dear to his heart.

He was coming from down the street, footsteps echoing in fold. From what appeared to be a large, rounded house, walls painted a blinding white. But no. No FBI Agent should be coming from there, not for whatever reason, and that was the deciding mark as Bourbon rubbed at his eyes.

The hallucination, illusion, painted vision of his hated nemesis faded away as he fluttered his eyes, and this time Bourbon didn’t just think it was getting worse, he knew it was worse. Never before did he have hallucinations where he could even hear the sounds of footsteps, so weighted and heavy next to himself. The strands of dark hair seemed so real, too…

There was only one curious thing about this hallucination, something that made Bourbon squint before it disappeared fully from his sight. 

Why does this Akai Shuichi... have short hair?

 

=

 

“Oi, C’mon! Why is it that I keep running into ya?”

Sharp, annoyed green eyes clashed with indigo ones that had the exact amount of aggravation shining in them. Standing, in the straight center of the mall, was Hattori Heiji, The Great Detective of the West (the obviously best one out of the four direction’s detectives), looking so very belittled at meeting eyes with Kuroba Kaito, the terrible and apparently is a highschool magician (who certainly is not nearly as awesome and perfect as Hattori Heiji).

“I could say the same to you! Like, are you stalking me or something!?” Kuroba exclaimed, punching a fist into the air childishly, before his nose scrunched up into a disgusted pout. “I wish you weren’t the one I got to see today! Why are you here, anyways?”

“T’s not like I wanna keep meeting ya, either, boke!” Irritated, Heiji said, pointing a tanned finger at the self-important brat across from him. The only thing that stopped the Osakan from straight up crushing the guy in everything and any literal topic a person could win at, was that Kuroba looked a bit like Kudou, except a worst Kudou with no sense to brush his hair. Annoying in that regard! Also their eye colors were completely different shades, where Kudou’s was more of a brilliant sapphire blue, sometimes tantalizing blue or a victoria blue, while Kuroba’s was just a moody-looking indigo. And Kudou wasn’t so… urgh!

Equally irritated, Kuroba pinched at Heiji, and both of them looked at each other with something of a mix of childish pettiness and annoyance. They just glared at each other fiercely with one eye, keeping the other shut in an attempt to look like they don’t care, while very blatantly staring.

Without understanding exactly why it came to be, the strange looks turned quickly and swiftly into an unofficial staring contest, of which Kuroba definitely cheated by flicking a finger right in front of his eye, causing him to close it in discomfort. Cheater.

Kuroba stuck his tongue out and broke the sudden silence, who puffed up like a pufferfish and shook his head. “Well? Why are you here, then, Osakan Highschool Detective-chan? As per your nickname, you totally should be in Osaka! Didn’t you go back to your little homeland after coming all the way out to save me and Chibi-kun without needing to? Why are you in Beika?”

This garnered a reaction from Heiji, along with a bunch of surrounding people who gave the two teenage boys furrowed, disgusted looks. Angry, Heiji crouched down, but raised a hand up high in a fist motion and had two legs wide apart. “Oi! CHIBI-KUN? When did Kud-con-co-c-c-argh, that bozu become all ‘Chibi-kun’? And why I’m in Beika ‘s none of ya business! Why are ya at this mall, anyways?”

“Hah!” Puffing up proudly, like a penguin now, Kuroba put his hands on his waist and smirked at what appeared to be his victory, but wasn’t. Heiji could say that very calmly. Very calmly. “I just made up the nickname! And knowing Chibi-kun, he’ll get used to it so fast. You can’t even say his name properly, much less call him a nickname! And I’m at the mall to buy cake!”

Kuroba was just rubbing it in his face at this point.

Completely disregarding the part about cake, the Osakan paused before giving a very justified smirk. “Listen, I can’t call that brat by his name for very good reason. And,” before Kuroba could say anything, Heiji added, extremely smartly, if he does say so himself, “only those with patience and calmness, like me, can understand why.”

Belittled by Heiji’s awesome way of refuting, Kuroba furrowed his eyebrows. “What? I’m a billion times more calm than you are, Osakan Genius Tantei-chan!” Now he was pouring sarcasm into his voice, scrunching up his nose before huffing. “A magician should always have a poker face, like my very good one, you see. Be amazed!”

Heiji watched as Kuroba swiped at his face, and a cheerful, teasing, and self-important one changed into a placid, bored one in an instant, which then changed to an actually believable angry one, furious and wanting to kill, before turning into a sad one with glistening tears at the corner of his eyes, and the Osakan could not help but be just a bit impressed. It was cool, but it wasn’t like he’d ever admitted in front of this egotistical, self-infatuated guy. But the other highschooler narrowed his indigo eyes, before humming, realizing something but not saying it aloud. Heiji had a feeling of what it was, so he didn’t press.

“...Okay, well, look what I can do! Oi,” he turned to the nearest person, an old man carrying a cane, and Heiji took his hand and unfurrowed it. “Ya used to be a…” he took a few seconds to scan the hand, alarmed at only seeing a few major points of interest, and quickly Heiji looked along the man’s entire body in an attempt to (definitely) not embarrass himself. Thankfully, he found it. “...a journalist, am I right?”

Wiping at his eyes, as if the old man couldn’t believe it, he blinked harshly. “...D-do I know you? How... did you know that?”

“Ya’re hands have blatant marks on the pointer finger and thumb. There is a bit of roughness on ya’re three other fingertips and the area just below ya’re thumb, so ya must rub that area a lot. That means the position of the hand described is that ya write. But ya’re legs are also weak, which means ya travel a lot, and there is evidence here- next to ya’re mouth, that ya talk a lot. Add the three hints up.”

“...That’s amazing…!” The old man complimented, eyes wide in a starstruck way, but before Heiji could say something very humble, the old man’s cane twisted- and with shocked looks, he fell to the floor, elbow hitting exactly where the tiles were and immediately both Heiji and Kuroba helped him up, of which he said thanks.

Feeling a bit tired after all of that arguing and showing off, Heiji, with Kuroba following, walked to the side of a cafe and ordered a cup of some interesting new drink on the internet recently. Beside him, Kuroba ordered some extremely sweet-looking one with far too much frosting and Heiji gave him a repulsed look, which the childish and petty highschooler returned by sticking out his tongue. 

The drinks themselves didn’t take longer than a few seconds to prepare, but as soon as the flavor hit his tongue, Heiji put the drink down. It's so sour! He was more of a spice-oriented person himself, even if Osaka sold mostly… well, the other kind of spicy. But now that he thought about it, Kudou would love this drink. He wolfs down lemon pies too sour for Heiji’s taste all the time.

Grudgingly, Heiji watched how Kuroba enjoyed his drink, and as if forgotten about the petty but fired-up argument they had earlier, Kuroba sent him an innocent, wide smile. Too theatrical for his tastes, but fine.

“...I guess we’ve never actually been introduced to each other.” Heiji started parsimoniously, graciously tapping on his cup, eyeing the drink with distaste. “‘Ts always the little kid who kinda had us talkin’ to each other. Wait, nah, scratch that. I seem to recall ya turning my hair pink and all weird-looking.” It was a reaching out moment, an aftereffect after calming down.

“Chibi-kun really knows a lot of people. At first I thought you were the worst, Osakan Tantei-chan, but I guess you might not be too bad.” Ignoring previous words and as if that was a compliment, Kuroba said, but without warning, he touched his forehead, eyes wide in shock and pain.

Heiji shook his shoulders, feeling actually concerned, and gripping harshly on Kuroba’s arms. “Oi, Kuroba! Are ya okay?” Brought back into reality, he blinked, before he looked up at the detective with a confident smile on his face, but something was a bit different than before. “Of course. Just a minor headache, no problems at all. Now, where were we?”

“...I see.” Unsettled, Heiji leaned back into his chair, attention seemingly back on the drink, but he sneaked glances at the other. “We were talkin’ about… reintroductions or how we met, I think.”

“Ahh? Now I remember. Well, nice to ‘meet’ you, Hattori Heiji-kun. I won’t prank you this time, though that could be fun. I’m K-kuroba Kaito, highschool magician, the pride of Ekoda Highschool.”

Heiji stared at him for his egotistical introduction. “Hah? Well, I’m Hattori Heiji, as you’ve said, Kuroba. And I’m the pride of the entirety of Osaka.” The old competitive flame which dimmed for a few, calming moments, was lit up in an instant and-!

Somebody screamed, piercing ears, as the two highschoolers both stared in the direction of which the sonorous scream came from, where a body collapsed to the floor with blood sprinkling out his mouth and his hands, grasping strangely around his neck, as if trying to suffocate himself, and his irises looked frighteningly pale as silky blood veins ran through them.

It was undeniable, and something that Heiji didn’t expect to come.

A corpse.

 

==

 

A corpse.

Haibara Ai supposed that she shouldn’t have been too surprised to find a corpse, sitting upright in an alley, when she was walking next to one corpse-magnet, Edogawa Conan. 

But it was just… there, cold and stiff and unmoving, blankly staring off into space, and so sudden, too. Pale skin was cradled, corpse leaning sideways and long fingers were wrapped around a strange flower and her lips were faded colorless. Crimson blood poured out of one side, gunpowder by the side of those bloodstains and lifeless figure glaring unnaturally at her, eyes wide, as if saying it was her fault that they died. 

Startled, Haibara instinctively moved away while Conan calmly came forward to touch the pulse of the body. Maybe it was the fact that the corpse resembled something of herself, with auburn hair and dreary green eyes, but Haibara didn’t dare to speak a word as she watched with broken, wavering orbs. Though clearly dead, Conan still checked for a heartbeat anyways, eyes narrowing in an eerily cold sympathy as he leaned into the wall, kneeling by the corpse. 

“Haibara,” he said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Call the police… tell them that someone is dead.” Conan talked with such certainty and awareness of things that weren’t what he should be aware of that Haibara didn’t even have a chance to flinch.

“Got it.” 

Quickly, she took out her phone, dialing the emergency number- something so common these days, spending times with the corpse or trouble magnet himself, that it was saved in her call logs as her number two most dialed number, after the professor’s.

The police arrived quickly enough, well endowed in the fact that Haibara never joked around with a dead body by now and they arrived faster than anyone would expect, in just five short minutes. They were the usual ones, Megure and Takagi, except this time even the absurd Shiratori came as well, gloves put stiffly clasping over their hands and inspecting the area.

Except Conan has already gotten started, rumbling through the crime scene like he owned the place. Haibara will never get how the police officers just allow a six-year-old kid to run rampant, except they didn’t seem to mind too much. He was walking around, staring at the hole in the side of the victim’s head with a crestfallen look on his face that was nearly unreadable otherwise. There was a sort of sympathy, but not really, and instead of the usual look of interest at a murder case all that was printed on Conan’s face was a look of strange suspicion, locked behind bars, as he crouched down to glare at the blue-purple flower in the victim’s hand.

As a… regrettably former scientist, Haibara could say that it was their subconscious submitting to the fact that Conan always ended up helping out in one way or another during a case. Even if he ends up using so many different vassals as his tool people later, with those agonizing little gadgets of his, and how they, the targets, don’t end up questioning exactly why they don’t remember a thing was another mystery to solve.

Actually, no. That wasn’t her job.

 

“The victim is Touya Yukigami, twenty-five, young researching scientist. Her wounds appear to be self-inflicted… No sign of struggle or anything contrary. Only thing worth noting is the flower in her hands, apparently identified to be a monkshood. No sign of any drugs or any offhand things in her system, nothing wrong with her body or brain. We can assume her death to be suicide by gun… though where she got it from, that will have to be investigated more thoroughly.” The inspector, Megure, announced, flipping through his clipboard with a curious look on his face. But something wasn’t right.

Beside her, Conan flinched, freezing up right next to Haibara, and she looked at him alarmingly. “...What?” She asked, tapping on his shoulder before sapphire eyes blinked away all fear and shock. Sheepishly, he looked at her, a soft, pliant smile planted fakely on his face.

“N-nothing! Don’t worry about it, Haibara.” Such an obvious lie, but she didn’t bother to break through it and instead looked at him with a flat look in her eyes. Then, something snapped and there was more of a faraway look to his eyes. “But something about this… it really bothers me.” 

There was that classic, signature look again, where he put a pale hand to his chin and thought, looking off to nowhere in particular. 

Regaining her composure, Haibara gave a grudgingly teasing talk. “What, because it’s not a murder for once?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so disappointed.” 

Next to an amused Haibara, Conan puffed up. “Hey, that’s not it! As if I would want people to die.” Conan retorted, embarrassed, because they both knew how Conan breathed on mysteries and every single case pumped an exhilarating flow of adrenaline-induced blood into his veins. Lightheartedly, Conan pouted, pretending to be all child-cute to try to get Haibara to feel just a bit guilty.

It didn’t work, and instead, the usually cool girl gave in to sharp smirks and soft laughs.

“W-what? Don’t laugh!” Conan was aware that his face was red now, blush dusted on his pale cheeks as Haibara scoffed. “Hey! Stop it! Listen!” Completely ignored by Haibara, the boy rambled on, “I really am not disappointed, okay? Really!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” Finally, she stopped laughing, tapping on her own lips. “Don’t take everything so seriously, Shin-kun. ” Using the nickname, she teased, towering above him with an almost believable smile. 

Conan dropped the act and crossed his arms, still painfully aware that he was still blushing. “Okay, fine. But back to the case… I…” His words trailed off, as if the great detective himself couldn’t really believe the end his deductions came to. Haibara raised an eyebrow, able to receive the other’s intentions without having to listen. “...You think that this wasn’t a suicide? The bullet went so cleanly through the victim’s head, though, with no drugs to make the victim faint and no other marks on the body to signify that the culprit knocked them out.”

It was true. The autopsy pointed that out. It was just such a clean suicide, that there really wasn’t much to say except how the girl ended up obtaining a gun.

He sniffled, scrunching up his small nose. “...When you say it like that, it makes it really hard to say anything against… but there’s just something that really bothers me, Haibara. And I guess for now, I’ll accept the ‘suicide’ conclusion to this case… but only for now, because I think I need to tell you something.”

She gave a hefty look of surprise. Never before did Edogawa Conan, Kudou Shinichi, so willingly abandon an unconcluded case with such ease, did something like this without finding out the absolute truth first. Which means that it was something urgent.

So terribly urgent to abandon his sense of justice?

 

Immediately, she let herself get tugged along by small hands wrapped around her own, to the professor’s house a few down the streets. The familiar landscape touched his feet and he rushed around, her fingers being grabbed, and eventually they arrived at the especial house that she spent her days at, lazing around with the professor, and now the newly arrived highschool detective of the West.

Aware of how nobody took notice of their absence, except perhaps Takagi, Haibara let herself be dragged into the laboratory, of which the professor Hiroshi Agasa was still watching television, with an open phone still grasped tightly in his hand. Hattori Heiji presumably went out, because there was no sign of him and his shoes were no longer at the front door.

“Ah- who’s? Shinichi! And Ai-kun, too! Good! Come quick-!” Frantically throwing away his phone to motion for the two children-like figures to come closer, Agasa stared at them both with wide eyes before both kids rushed into the room, before being grabbed onto the couch to listen to the channel open.

The police news.

“We have gotten a tip, from a very enthusiastic anonymous tipper that another suicide has taken place in Japan, this time in Nagano, just this morning, making it the thirteenth one in a row of these past three days. According to police files, this strange suicide sequence is being called the ‘Young Scientist Suicide Sequence Case’, known as Y3SC for short. All of the victims of this continuous suicide case seems to be youthful scientists not even in their thirties yet, respectively female, and all seems to share a few physical features, from either green-blue eyes or brown hair.”

It was like Haibara’s heart stopped.

Could it just be a mere coincidence? No. 

Not with how the physical features mentioned all resemble her.

The only ones who could pull off such suicide-like murders would have to be them… and the fact that the victims all look somewhat like her, and even have the same profession… It was a direct call from the organization, screaming a meaning or else this train of deaths would not stop.

Very bold move of the organization… far more bold than Haibara has ever seen, and she could feel herself unconsciously shivering against the press of a warm, Conan body next to her. Perhaps the one who was orchestrating this murder wasn’t in fact Vermouth or Bourbon, the two most keen on keeping the organization under cover, but Rum and Gin. Two impatient, blood-thirsty men who wouldn’t have a second’s worth of doubt against pulling something like this.

So why? Why were they causing such a blatant scene? Was it… to draw her out? Probably, if she knew the organization. They never dealt with traitors so lightly, did they…?

Beside her, she could hear Conan mumbling underneath his breath in bated tones, eyes furiously staring at the ground, cursing something not seen by the eye. What he was saying was so quiet that Haibara could barely catch it amidst all her electrifying shock.

“Darn it… I knew it. The scientist victim, Youya Yukigami. She was holding a monkshood. Beware... a deadly foe is near’ .”

“A-are you saying..?” Slowly, Haibara breathed out, knowing what was coming next and attempting to calm herself down amidst the sea of chaos and fear surrounding her. Like a wickedly heated knife, pressing against her skin, her heart was pounding, so harsh and so fast that it felt like it would burst and her breaths felt short, she could almost say that the next moment could be the moment that blood pours out of her body. “I-is their target…?”

Fear boiled in her stomach, the feeling indescribable but could best be said as fire, lavas, magma, boiling inside of her, feeling burned and desperate and painful like she was struck by lightning or another. Like darkness, shadow looming over her eyes, like her skin was slowly peeled away layer by layer, like freezing ice water was grasping at her throat, waiting for her to suffocate in a pit of despair and alone in the cold. Dual feelings, dual everything, and she could feel herself trembling harshly despite the well-heated room, throat tight and panting and each breath felt short, like hyperventilation at its worst.

Torture. Mental torture. It would be far easier to grab a gun and shoot a bullet through her head, at this point.

Oblivious to the dark turn of her freezing, fearful thoughts, slowly, Conan nodded, a look of bitterness apparent in his otherwise well-hidden face as he grabbed onto her shoulders. “Haibara… I think… Come with me to another room. I have to tell you something.” His voice was so steady, so calm , next to her never endingly rising heartbeat, completely unaware despite Haibara's obvious signs of fear, so wrapped up within his own head.

The feeling of warmth against her skin, reassuring hands touching her shoulders, made Haibara look at him straight as she followed him into a room, and the professor didn’t follow, but his eyes looked curiously as if wondering why he wasn’t invited. Something about another person, pressing up against herself, made her feel slightly less uneasy, slightly less like she would die in the next moment.

“Haibara, I need you to do something. You have to follow my plan.”

The sudden words caused Haibara’s eyes to widen. “What do you mean?” She watched as his eyes looked sharp, sharp as when he acted as Kudou Shinichi instead of the cheerful, almost all-knowing little kid that Edogawa Conan usually was. His voice lowered, too, colder and more hesitant than before.

Sapphire blue eyes met her own.

“...Something is going to happen soon. My plan to take advantage of this situation is to…”

 

===

 

“Ah~! Feels good to be back in Japan~!”

Kudou Yukiko stretched her arms outwards, cheerfully humming as she tied up her hair afterwards, two large heavy-duty luggage backs brought next to her. To breathe the same air that she hadn’t touched for quite some time was terribly refreshing as it was her home country. Her husband, next to her, gave Yukiko a curious look as the famous writer, Kudou Yuusaku, smiled despite his stern self.

He let it go for a few seconds, before his expression changed to a serious one. “Don’t enjoy it for too long,” He warned. “We are here for a reason.”

Pouting, she flipped her hair and put her hands on her hips. “I know, I know… but we’ll get to see Shin-chan again, after so long! Isn’t that exciting?” Well, it wasn’t really all that long, but it sure felt like that to Yukiko. And it was even more fun, that Shinichi had turned into a real kid. Even if she shouldn’t be happy about that. Those who knew him personally before the accident would be able to tell who he was even more easily than when he looked like Kudou Shinichi, with the childish look and all.

That was fine. It's not like Yuusaku and herself would just stand by, watching their child get brought back into the horrendous organization… even Sharon herself had mentioned that Shinichi might have been better off in their hands, rather than the organization’s, and Yukiko could not agree more.

She could not explain her shock at finding out that Shinichi turned into a child. And even worse was the name he gave himself- wasn’t “Edogawa Conan” far too obviously an alias? Though Yuusaku seemed proud of the name and that was good enough for her. The FBI could always make up some distant relative of either parent with the last name ‘Edogawa’ and that could be enough to call it a day.

But in all honesty, Yukiko was holding in her laughter with all her great prowess as the world-renowned actress, and how serious “Edogawa Conan” looked while his chubby, boyish face spoke. His eyes were now large and bright blue and darn it, Yukiko wasn’t paying attention to whatever he was saying, because she already knew that there was going to be a million young, first grade girls chasing after him, and she even remembered far too many love letters when he was Kudou Shinichi, stuffing their mails full every week in spite of the many fan letters that the couple of actress and mystery novelist get too. The phone call was the final stretch, hearing a cute, youthful voice, so grave though it sounded so kawaii and cutesy. 

She had bursted out her laughter, watching how Conan’s face scrunched up in confusion in the same way Shinichi did, and knew for sure that this kid- her son- was the exact same one she’s been missing since his fourteenth birthday as she travelled around the world with Yuusaku.

“Yeah, it really has … Shinichi seems to be doing well, though.” He left it as ambiguous as that, eyes softening in an unreadable emotion as he pressed against his own luggage, watching her as she pouted again. “Of course! Isn’t that to be expected, knowing where he came from?”

“...When you say it like that, it makes him sound like some kind of infection, Yukiko.” He said passively, no shift of tones, but something sparkled in his glare. 

Realizing his words, Yukiko shook her head, denying anything like that as she huffed. “Of course not! Shin-chan is great~!” She poked a finger at his chest and he looked down in mild surprise, before he heard Yukiko’s voice and tone lower, just a few levels under the warm, bubbly voice she usually had. “ ...Besides, it's not as if he knows anything.”

Matching her lowered tone, Yuusku sighed gravely. “That Araide-san knows too much.” Dark eyes swept to the side at the sudden seriousness imposed on their conversation from it's previously lighthearted nature. It was like rain clouds, coming together to propose a swirl of rin at the drop of a hat.

What was next was left unsaid.

“Oh~! Yuusaku-san and Yukiko-san, am I right?” The last few words were said in a distinctly English voice, and a familiar lady with golden locks and bright, blue eyes rushed over, waving cheerfully. “I’m Jodie Starling, and am here to pick you up on behalf of Shu, who couldn’t make it right now.”

“Akai Shuichi? Couldn’t make it?” Yuusaku raised an eyebrow, cautiously asking. The FBI agent that the couple trusted most, in this predicament, was not something within expectations- yet not something outside of Yukiko’s husband’s calculations, either.

The FBI woman, Jodie, blinked with an apologetic smile. “Ahh… he’s, umm, preparing something for the event we know will happen. We can’t, uhm, really talk about it in public.” She laughed nervously, perhaps sensing something among the two that caused her sunny words to break up to stutters so suddenly.

Yukiko wrapped an arm, affectionately looping it around Yuusaku’s, and the latter’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” he said frostily, unlike the sweet, warm tone of which he spoke to Yukiko earlier. “Will you please lead us into our house, then?” He put emphasis on it, perhaps taunting them for sending another FBI instead of the one that they expected, and escorting them to their own manor.

“Ahh, of course. Over here, James has prepared a car for us.” They followed into the car, seated carefully, putting their luggage into the back. The idea of this being a total trap was clearly entirely dismissed in Yuusaku’s mind. One look at her husband was enough to decode that. But still, she trusted her instincts dearly, and there was something about this all that really bothered her.

Kind of like the strange sequence of suicides on the news recently… what did they call it? Y3SC?

“May you speak about exactly what Akai-san is doing, currently?” In a kind but stern voice, edged with coldness, Yuusaku said in a more lighthearted, curious tone, crossing his legs in the car handsomely. Jodie stiffened, while the driver- supposedly James, sighed.

Not a good sign. “We… I… don’t actually know. He’s been messing around with some red button for the past hour, and refused to come out of the room he’s staying in. I’ve never seen Akai-san with such a fiercely conflicted look on his face before.”

“Oh, is that so?” Yuusaku asked, his voice softening into something sunnier. “That’s good news.” He looked evidently relaxed now.

There was a pit of silence as Yukiko played with her nails, waiting for a person to speak up, before Jodie took the job and bubbled up. “Good news? How so?” she asked, in an almost oppressed way, blinking innocently as if trying to avoid something.

Was she that frightened earlier? Yukiko didn’t recall trying to put out an ominous aura as an actor, but perhaps it slipped out of both she and Yuusaku accidentally. 

Her husband hummed cheerfully. “...It just means that his stage play is going relatively smoothly, if he’s already gotten to this stage of the script.”

Yukiko smiled.

 

====

 

“Ehh? Amuro-no-nii-chan? What are you doing here?”

Sitting right in the center of the couch in the Mouri Detective Agency, was the man himself, with a passive-cheerful smile scribbled across his face, holding a tray of well-designed sandwiches in his hands. He looked downright delighted to see Conan walk into the room.

“Ah, Conan-kun!” Amuro Tooru said, excitedly, beaming brightly at the kid who lowered his brows in confusion. Not used to adults being so blatantly happy to see him, he nearly pouted on instinct, but managed to refrain himself from doing so. This entire kid-act thing really was getting to him. “Just the person I wanted to see. I happened to join the lottery, and ended up winning a five-person invitation to a grand party this weekend- could you believe my luck? Would you three care to come?”

Sapphire eyes narrowed, and before anyone else could say a word, he bubbled up again. “Are you inviting Azusa-nee-chan, too? For the ‘five-person’, I mean.” Kogoro and Ran stiffened, and the latter looked down, to the curiosity of Conan.

Amuro’s eyes softened abruptly, looking very sad suddenly, and it was off-putting to Conan to see him look so distressed. His voice came in broken whispers, very tinged upon with a rainy tone. “Azusa-san got hit on the head with a broken plate… she’s in the hospital, actually.” Amuro said, and immediately Conan felt bad but couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

As if sensing his internal distress at being unable to answer, Amuro spoke up, voice cheerfully rising as if the sad news never happened. “Well?”

“...Ahh, I apologize, I really can’t-!” Ran bowed, and Conan bit back a concerned warning. Dark hair fell past her waist and her purple eyes etiolated. “I promised Sonoko that I’d help her prepare a dress to go to Kaitou Kid’s heist this weekend, and before that we have to go clean Shinichi’s house and make a good luck charm with her picture on it for Kyogoku-san…” She shook her head. 

Amuro frowned, not knowing some of the names, but still oddly nodding as if understanding. But Conan noticed instantly how his eyes shot dark- shot cold , at the mention of ‘Shinichi’. His voice was the contrary, though, and the freezingness disappeared as quickly as it came. “I see… no, it's fine, really! Is Sonoko-san a Kid fan?”

“...Fan is an understatement.” Ran groaned. This provoked a laugh from the Poirot worker, but it felt just a little bit forced to Conan’s sensitive ears as he stared at him carefully. Amuro turned to Kogoro, who apparently wasn’t listening to the conversation and was reading the news. “Mouri-san?”

As if finally realizing that Amuro was speaking, Kogoro looked at the cafe worker. “Oh. Uh. No, I can’t come either. I have… personal business to attend to!”

“...You mean the Okino Youko forty-eight hour live broadcasted concert this weekend?” Conan ruthlessly asked, breaking the shell the ‘great Sleeping Kogoro’ lived in. Dark eyes widened, before Kogoro hissed at the glare Ran gave him, for staying up too long a few nights prior watching his undeniably favorite idol in this world. 

Amuro smiled nervously, a drop of swear falling next to his face, and that was something which mirrored Conan as sapphire eyes looked upwards at a familiar sight.

Staring down at Conan, he apparently decided to blame it on the boy. “Obnoxious brat…” Kogoro said, punching Conan on the head, resulting in a big bump, before lifting up the kid by his collar and dropping him on top of Amuro. “You know what, you can take the kid. Just bring him back by morning, ‘kay? Ran gets angry if the brat doesn’t eat his breakfast right or sleep a good ten hours, so make sure he does so and doesn’t get malnutritioned in any way, or else you might lose a limb.” 

It sounded like a joke, but Conan laughed sheepishly anyways, remembering the one time where Ran punched into a stone pillar and managed to crack the rock. However, after professional years of dodging Ran’s agonizing punches and kicks, Conan could almost say that he was an expert.

“...Ah, I will, don’t worry about that… thanks, Mouri-san! I guess I’ll take my leave right now and find a few other companions, too.” He looked down at Conan, before something lit up in his eyes. “Want to come with me, Conan-kun?”

Hesitation was the first thing to burst into his mind, but judgement and instinct clouded over whatever was left of that irresolution and Conan nodded, and Ran watched him, eyes shining with mild concern, while Kogoro had indifference back with his newspapers.

The two left the agency, climbing down the stairs, and there was an awkward silence and more indecision as Conan debated whether or not to go on such a suspect individual's car, before he decided that it would be far too obvious and climbed in. The seat was soft and plush, high quality, and the glass looked in pristine shape. The seatbelt length was exactly the average for Japan, and there was enough room in the front seats and the back to kick around if needed.

He better get used to this car now, Conan thought.

“Ne, Amuro-nii-chan?” A light, shining voice rang out through the car after silence surfaced for what felt like forever, and as if surprised, Amuro hummed out. “Hmm?”

Sharp, blue-grey eyes looked down at Conan’s own ones. “What if I just bring the Detective Boys?” He proposed, smiling childishly, knowing exactly what Amuro’s answer would be. Expected it. And it was also a test, a final deciding one that told him if what he had planned out so far was for truth or false.

“Aren’t there five of you in the Detective Boys? One would have to be excluded.” He said softly, gently pressing against the pedal and turning the wheel at a turn. Conan didn’t know where they were going, but he could guess. “Yeah, but Haibara doesn’t like public parties. She’ll probably stay behind.”

Conan didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath.

“...Ah, that’ll not do. Surprisingly, I’ve actually already found a companion for our party.” He said, smiling. “They were my backup-plans if Ran-san and Mouri-san had something else to do, like what actually occurred.”

There was a light pause. “...Is that so.” Conan didn’t press more.

  That was for later.

“Well, that just leaves two slots left! Any ideas, Conan-kun?” There was a certain way that Amuro said his name that he really disliked. Something about it felt weird, but the kid couldn’t place a finger on it and sucked it in.

Pretending to consider for a second, Conan sighed, before brightening up and smiling, beaming up at one curious Amuro that, for some reason, looked kind of belittled and surprised and twistedly angry at the smile. “I know!” Conan exclaimed. “There’s only two people, really, that I can bring to a party… one of them would have to be Haibara. She hates parties, but if I ask her, she’ll come… and she’s the only one that won’t say anything about this to the other Detective Boys.”

He saw how Amuro seemed to let go of a breath and the inner smirk on Conan’s face widened.

“And the other?”

All according to expectations.

“I’ll bring Shinichi-nii-chan!”

Notes:

Early update, but a terribly paced one. My aspiration to start this arc already kept me going... I've only started writing this chapter three days ago, but apparently I got too excited. Only 7000 words this time, but it's because this is a set-up part for the later act of this arc! Stuff will be revealed. This will truly begin now.

Two corpses in one chapter? Cool! And honestly, I wanted this chapter to be longer and that's the entire reason Heiji and Kaito get a scene. Also, they need to become best friends soon. Even if they both totally have a crush on Shinichi, they should be best friends.

Monkshood, in flower language, really does mean 'beware, a deadly foe is near'. Helpful website at: http://thelanguageofflowers.com/

In my story, Conan is oblivious in the way that he is in the anime/manga. Like, he knows what love is and stuff but is completely oblivious to if others like him. The only reason he's of aware of Ran is because he has a crush on Ran too in the canon franchise. Do you see how he's completely oblivious to how Ayumi has a crush on him? Conan here is the same way- he knows what it is, but doesn't know that there's gonna be a lot of people chasing after him.

So sad to hear that Detective Conan is going on a hiatus until October.... noo. My sadness. I cry. But Wild Police Story (a manga I have surprisingly not read yet) is getting an anime adaptation! And watching/reading some episodes/chapters again, I realize exactly how big a simp everyone is in this franchise for Conan. (Amuro's so soft, and do you see how he carried Conan down in episode 1005/Chapter 1031? Akai won't stop praising Conan every few words and Heiji's all like "TOKYO KUDOU" and the worst of it is probably Kaito. He jumped out of an airship to save Conan.)

Anyways, enough of this long note. Thank you for reading! And we reached 100 kudos! I appreciate all hits, kudos, and especially comments!

Chapter 9: IV Part II

Notes:

warning: descriptions of death by poisoning, symptoms of illness

If anyone is offended by the "holy crap", leave it in the comments and I'll change it at once!

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

Chapter Text

Chapter IV Part II

 

The bloody scene was suspicious.

A corpse, dangling on the floor, and it was the old man which Hattori Heiji and Kuroba Kaito had assisted with earlier- the journalist, whose eyes have now bugged, blood splattered around his mouth. Instinctively, Heiji rushed to the scene, doing the safe scientific way of things and brought the scent close to his nose with a sweep of his hands. Bitter almonds, undeniably cyanide poisoning.

So what was with the blood?

There was screaming all around, but Heiji, used to this kind of case, raised a hand and equally raised his voice so everyone could hear him. “Everyone!” He yelled, making people stare amidst the chaos, “Calm down! Kuroba, call the police right now!”

As the highschooler scrambled to do as he said, Heiji carefully took out the gloves he tucked away for any and all emergency cases, such as this one. The white cloth slid easily over his hands as he delicately inspected the corpse, gently flipping the body over. No external injuries, and he ordered no drinks- the only plausible and obvious place that someone could poison him with cyanide would be the cup of water on the table to his left, but pressing a coin into it, there was no chemical reaction.

The cyanide poison wasn’t put in the water. Which meant that the key to this case would be to figure out exactly where and how the culprit threw in the poison.

“Holy crap,” Heiji muttered underneath his breath, much to the puzzled and amused gaze coming from Kuroba next to him. “Am I actually cursed or something? Why is every case so darned hard?” Rubbing at his temples, then narrowing his eyes, Heiji unraveled the old journalist’s sleeves, then threw his hands into the man’s pockets.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t empty- for a journalist to bring a ball-point pen and a notepad, stuffed full of writing, may not be something to note, but a modern phone too- that was what caught Heiji’s attention, and especially the messages on the phone after he (apologetically) used the corpse’s fingerprints to crack open the screen. They seemed to have a messaging board to themselves, writing down nearby occurrences and reporting them to a man supposedly named “B1”. At a glance, the old man seemed to be aged a solid seventy at the very least, so there really was no reason to be using smartphones rather than his clearly well-written notebook.

No, now that Heiji blinked and refreshed his brain for a mere second, he could see that it was not the case. Actually, using a smartphone would be far more efficient than a notebook and pen, when a person could type with one hand rather than using both for traditional writing… especially when the man already used a one-hand cane, which fell next to his corpse. But then why did the notebook seem so well used?

One thing was for certain. This old journalist was suspicious.

“Hey, Osaka Tantei-chan?” Kuroba asked in a sing-songy voice behind him, but so concentrated on the case, Heiji didn’t even retort as he flipped through every page of the notebook thoroughly. There were a bunch of scratched notes. The first notable one was one dating back to all the way four months ago, page scribbled roughly with ‘ My first interview ever- with Gorudo-kun. He wants to pursue dancing, but can’t, and ended up having to become an online writer instead. He has become very famous due to the much appreciated support- remember to include his gratitude into the words!’

A lot more colorful words and more useless information about how this “Gorudo-kun” did a beautiful online work about dragons and jade towers. But the curious thing was why he had named this man “Gorudo-kun”- Gold, translated literally in English?

The next most interesting thing to focus on was the next man that the old man interviewed- ‘ My second interview with Chokoreto-kun. He says he wants to smile during his work, but he can’t because he was traumatized once tripping while moving to stage right in college. He says he has become very famous because of his brilliant storytelling and sense of key-pressing- remember to thank the audience in the words!’ Another strange alias- “Chokoreto-kun”? All of them were terrible puns off of perfect Japanese words- it translated directly into “Chocolate”. Why? Did “Chokoreto-kun” like eating chocolate or something, and what work did he do?

More information on him, much like “Gorudo-kun”, did not catch Heiji’s attention as he impatiently flipped to the section where the tone of words suddenly changed. His green eyes caught dearly, dangling on the words to figure out the pattern, the date marking to a mere week ago.

‘My third interview- it’ll probably be the last one before I retire, but because of that I will put my all into this. This was with Yonaka-kun. He says he pursued his dream well and became what he wanted, and could not be happier because he just met a girlfriend. He says the reason that he became so famous was because of his girlfriend and he thanks her dearly- but wants to not include that in the words due to his strange situation.’

Now, it was “Yonaka-kun”- or “Midnight”. He was different from the rest and this left Heiji as confused but intrigued as before. And there was one last observable line, at the very last page, written on the bottom- ‘ I am meeting with Gorudo-kun for today as a re-interview! He said he’ll even introduce me to a better editor- what a stroke of luck!’

Luck, huh. That didn’t exist, not when Kudou was living proof of that. The guy had the worst luck he’d ever seen, and whenever he was around- Focus, Hattori Heiji, Great Detective of the West!

Which meant that there was a good chance that the one this journalist interviewed today, “Gorudo-kun”, was the one to kill him.

He closed the notebook with a sympathetic snort.

Each letter’s ink was slightly bleached, the black fading just barely onto his thumb. “Yeah?” Heiji asked, eyebrows furrowing at the strange array of words. It must be a code, but it was hard to say what an old man was doing with something like this… but then again, when he still thought about it, it made sense. New information was the life of these journalists and having another cover it first would mean less revenue. Coding it… it was like those old legends of alchemists who would code their own work to ensure that others wouldn’t be able to steal their work. Journalists were much the same.

“I’m no detective, but I think I’ve found our suspects.” Ignoring how Heiji paused for quite the time, staring at the book, he said, but it caused a huge wave of surprise through the Osakan’s head as he looked up. Shocked, he watched as Kuroba brought three young men over- one with dark, midnight hair, wearing a traditional Japanese outfit and rounded glasses, the second a slightly older one with dark brown hair, the roots just the slightest blonde, and bright blue eyes looked intelligent and his face was nice looking behind square-framed glasses, and though his young age he also had a cane. The third one was also brown-haired, with a pale face that was heavily done with makeup and darn, even Heiji has to admit that this guy was pretty enough to be an idol. His hair was curled innocently and his eyes sparkled, wearing a nice, unfolded suit, and his posture was perfect as he walked every step.

So what? When did Hattori Heiji, again, Great Detective of the West, care for such things?

A traitorous part in his mind knew exactly when, but it really wasn’t the time for such things. Kuroba smiled, waving his hand up. “These three say that they knew the old man who died! Said something about being interviewed by him at some point this past year, I think.”

“What the heck,” Heiji blinked green, knowing the implications, eyes unconsciously breaching into the notebook. “Are ya actually jokin’ with me? All of them are here?” 

“What do you mean?” Curiously, Kuroba asked, and Heiji in fury rubbed at his temples again, biting on his lip and putting a neck to the back of his neck.

Observing the three men, Heiji furrowed his eyebrows. “Oi, who’re you?” Ignoring Kuroba, he continued, couching closer to them. And just then, he felt something- chills down his spine, exactly like the feeling of a murderer’s pair of eyes dropping on him, and his senses were tingling. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Not a shred remains.

One of these three was definitely the culprit.

The sound of police sirens disrupted his thoughts just as the dark-haired suspect opened his mouth, and the fat inspector along with the tall police officer that Kudou always seemed to be hanging around when a case pops up entered the scene, other officers wrapping off the cafeteria- to the shock of some others who had not noticed the corpse quite yet- with caution tape, as Megure’s eyes dimmed with annoyance while Takagi’s head looked up with a beam at Heiji’s appearance.

“Oi, it's the brat from Osaka… Hattori-kun,” Megure said, at the exact same time Takagi spoke words too, “Ah, it's Hattori-kun!” And both looked at each other in surprise while the detective himself puffed up.

Finally noticing Kuroba behind him, Takagi’s eyes widened. “Huh, who’s the guy behind him- wait a minute, that guy- he looks kind of like Kudou-kun, doesn’t he?” Kind of quietly yet in a voice that was loud enough for them all to hear, the officer asked the inspector.

“No, that’s not Kudou-kun at all! Kudou-kun would never have hair that looked like it was made out of a bird’s nest.” Definitely, Megure said, crossing his arms and Heiji chuckled. It was totally true, not to mention the different color of their eyes. “Besides, Kudou-kun… he hasn’t shown up since the case at the restaurant with Ran-san, after their school festival where he dressed as the black knight…” he trailed off, not needing to say any more, before Kuroba bubbled up from behind Heiji, but the Osakan detective caught the bare whisper of a tremble in his voice.

That was strange. He rarely stuttered at all, much less trembled. What, did he have something personal against the police?

“Nice to meet you- it's Keiji-san, right? I’m Kuroba Kaito, seventeen, currently a highschooler at Ekoda Highschool’s Class 2-B!” Putting a hand to his head in a salute, Kuroba said cheerfully.

“Kuroba Kaito…” Megure trailed off, as if considering something as he put a hand to his chin. “Oh…!” He suddenly exclaimed like a lightbulb lit up on top of his head or something. “You’re that Nakamori-kun’s daughter’s little friend, right?”

At the mention of “Nakamori”, Kuroba brightened up, and that spark dimmed again when the word “daughter” came out of the inspector’s mouth and he grumbled lightly. “...We were friends, yes,” he said, “but not right now, ‘kay? We have a case to solve!”

To remind them of the body, Kuroba pointed at the corpse, then at the three guys standing curiously, watching the exchange. “These are Hanichi Shukeda, Saeki Jurou, and Konda Kazuo. You may or may not have heard of them? I think I may have, but they say they’ve been interviewed by the victim before, so I’m assuming that they could be suspects.”

“Not only could they be suspects, I’m certain it's one of them. There’s a notebook over there- go check it and you’ll see what I mean. The victim died of cyanide poisoning; have forensics check everything else too.” Heiji ordered, Megure sending an eye roll at him for him, commanding them albeit his young, staring before coming closer and Megure and Takagi left him to his own devices, as usual. This was Tokyo- usually Kudou was here in his little kid form, but now that he wasn’t, Heiji was just going to use his own way of questioning and interrogation.

So which one was “Gorudo-kun”, which one was “Chokoreto-kun”, and which one was “Yonaka-kun”. That was important to figure out, next to how the culprit managed to poison the victim- and Heiji has already got an idea in mind.

Its not a certain way of murder, but sure, it could work just fine. A good trick that would rarely lead back to them- if only the words didn’t exist on the old journalist’s notebook.

“Oi, you are Hanichi Shukeda, right?” Heiji first approached the black-haired man with round glasses and traditional clothes, and now that Heiji stared, his hair was kind of cut terribly too. They nodded, saying in a smooth voice, “I am. Nice to meet you, mister…?”

“Hattori Heiji,” he said proudly, and perhaps they recognized his name because Hanichi’s eyes widened. He didn’t comment on it, however, and just blinked, before Heiji continued on. “Anyways… what did’cha do to get an interview, Hanichi-san? And what did ya say to him in your interview?”

There was an awkward silence, as if Hanichi was thinking about answering or not, before he lowered his voice. “I actually can’t tell you here, Hattori Heiji-kun, but if it helps you with the case at all- I told him about people.” He said, winking at Heiji, who gave him a deadpanned look as the Osakan leaned back into the air.

It didn’t help much. All of them talked about people, in some way.

The next was Saeki Jurou, a brown-haired man with a pretty face that was definitely fitting of an idol- if only looks were enough to ensure that Saeki was indeed “Chokoreto-kun”, the one that sounded most fitting as a description of a singer. He was so tall that he towered over Heiji as the latter approached.

“May I help you, Hattori Heiji-kun?” He must have overheard Heiji’s conversation with Hanichi, because Saeki smiled peacefully as he came over. “Yeah. I wanted to ask what ya did to get an interview and what ya said to him during it, like with Hanichi-san.”

“I do singing, of course. But it's not like I had a lot of fans until the interviewer’s article, so I have to thank him- it's so sad that he’s dead.” He said it in a falsely sympathetic way, so unrealistic and with a hint of sarcasm. “All that money I was going to pay him as per the contract; all not paid. If only.”

Well, at least there’s a motive.

“I see.” Heiji forced a smile, almost giving into the urge to punch the man in his pretty face. He could try to care less and Heiji would be impressed.

The last of the three was Konda Kazuo, the one with brown hair faded to yellow at the roots of his hair, with blue eyes and square glasses. “Hattori Heiji-kun,” he greeted with a warning tone. “Is there something you want?” He gave a self-satisfied smile. The kind that made him want to puke.

“What I asked of the other two, ya dummy.” Heiji snapped. He doesn’t like people who are so egotistical, like this Konda guy as he looked like he was the center of the world. “Tell me ya interview stuff.”

Bunching up his nose together, Konda Kazuo said his words in a sneer as his eyes turned into slit in a way that challenged Heiji, saying what are you going to do about it? It was the kind of thing that Heiji absolutely hated, and it made him so furious but he squashed the anger down for a few moments as he staggeringly waited for Konda’s answer. “It was for my dancing.”

It wasn’t going to be that easy to lie to Hattori Heiji. “Ya’re leg can’t be good if ya need that cane,” He mentioned briefly and Konda’s face soured before turning away from him with a frown.

Hattori Heiji bunched up his eyebrows.

The sound of his phone ringing woke him up from his trance, and he picked it up, with a curious cursory glance coming from Kuroba in the corner who seemed to be consumed in his own world.

“Hattori?”

“Kudou!” Excited to clear his thoughts, Heiji said, cheerfully raising up a fist into the air. “What are ya doing, calling me right now, though?” He said, once calming down. “I’m in the middle of a case!”

There was a pause for a second, before the voice resumed. “I’m not surprised, but I’ll help too.” Kudou said and it made Heiji raise a thick eyebrow. Kudou never helped him out like this, not when he had like thirty billion cases himself to work on, but then again, if anyone dangled someone’s life and law and justice and morality in front of his face, Kudou wouldn’t hesitate to gamble his life for another’s. It just so happened that Kudou rarely helped him. It was more like… he was kind of doing an act of a man and a horse, where both are prominent and bright- yet Heiji stepped into the light and danced the song of the detective while Kudou was the horse in the shadows, nobody really seeing the effort he put in as a little kid. “Tell me the situation. I need you to come back soon, Hattori. I need you for something.”

“Ah, okay, I will come back soon, so this is how the case has gone so far…”

“Are you actually cursed, Hattori?” After he explained, the voice on the other end asks with a teasing tone in his voice, but Heiji had the perfect words to bite back.

“You’re one to talk.”

 

“Megure-keibu.”

The voice from the phone said, raised up next to the inspector’s ear and his already large eyes widened even further, and he jumped up in excitement, clutching onto his hat. “No way,” he breathed out, and Takagi stared. “Is that Kudou-kun!?”

The cafe was suddenly silent. “Kudou Shinichi…?” From under his breath, Heiji could hear Kaito mutter with something toxic in the name, but he didn’t care too much as he held up the phone. He’ll let Kudou carry the torch for now, but only because it was Tokyo- when they inevitably run into a case in Osaka, Heiji’ll be the one to take in the reins and pull.

“Yes, it is me. I apologize for being a bit busy recently- but for now, we have a case to solve, do we not?” His smooth voice uttered out, and Heiji could almost see him- as both Kudou Shinichi and Edogawa Conan- sitting on a seat, leaning on the back, with a smirk on his face as he clutched the red bow tie voice changer to have such a soft voice. 

Blinking, the inspector’s face was coldly passive, but with delighted surprise only in his eyes, before his entire expression extorted into one of gratification. “You know who the culprit is!?”

“Thanks to Hattori, who briefed me on the current state of the crime scene.” There was a quiet collective gasp, before Kudou decided to go on. “First of all, I am sure that you already looked at the notebook. It is clear that whoever is named ‘Gorudo-kun’ should be the culprit here. Now, that’s the hard part of the case. The easy part-!”

“-is how the killer committed the crime,” Heiji flawlessly continued, knowing that Kudou couldn’t do a thing on the other side of the phone. “The victim died of cyanide poisoning, so where was that poison sprinkled in- or on? It was done so on the victim’s cane.”

Nearly every pair of eyes in the room redirected from the phone in Heiji’s hand, to the fallen bronze cane, displayed freely next to the masked off area where the corpse once laid. It was there, rolling next to the ground, and Heiji blinked green.

It was silent for a second, before Heiji went on, grabbing the cane and wearing his gloves tightly, as well as taking a jar of fake glitters in a pile of cyanide powder to do an example. “First, ya sprinkle the poison on the top of the cane, like so, then when the victim touches it, he’ll get the cyanide on his hands. Then when he’ll take the interview with the culprit ‘Gorudo-kun’, he’ll have to click open the ballpoint pen, getting it then on the tip of the ballpoint pen. Many people do an unconscious act where they press the very tip to their lips, and it's not too hard to make them touch the tip to their mouth even if they don't have that unconscious act in question. That’s how they made the victim swallow the cyanide poison.”

More silence as Heiji explained it, the phone next to him giving him encouraging hums from time to time, before the inspector spoke up again, this time with a kind of irritation harness in his voice.

“That sounds unrealistic- but no, it could actually happen… if Kudou-kun agrees with this… Forensics, go check it...” he trailed off, head in thought. “But then, who’s the culprit?” He said just as the forensics team rushed to the scene.

“The culprit?” Kudou’s voice came out, slow and melodramatic, and Heiji could practically see him smirking heavily, closing his eyelids before leisurely opening them again, revealing magnificent sapphire orbs, large on the face and framed by dark lashes. “No… there could be no other one. The culprit of this case… it cannot be anyone but you, Konda Kazuo-san…!”

The man staggered backwards in shock as a grin broke out on Heiji’s face.

“B-but why, Kudou-kun!?” Even though the officers clearly trusted him, they still asked for exactly what was Kudou’s deduction, and the voice-changed tone from the phone quickly enough. “The three names that the victim gave to the three suspects, ‘Gorudo-kun’, ‘Chokoreto-kun’, and ‘Yonaka-kun’, are all colors. They refer to the hair colors of the three victims. Konda-san’s gold, Saeki-san’s chocolate, and Hanichi-san’s midnight.”

There was a breathy intake of sharp gasps, and then the inspector’s face tightened as if not believing in Kudou’s words.“But! Look, Konda’s hair is brown! ” he exclaimed loudly. “Not to have any disrespect, Kudou-kun, but-!”

“It’s dyed. Hattori told me the roots of his hair are blonde, and it's on average one or two centimeters of growth of hair a month per a human male. Besides, the book described ‘Gorudo-kun’ as ‘wanted to pursue dancing, but can’t’. Why would that be, if not that ‘Gorudo-kun’s’ leg isn’t properly functioning? He needed a cane.

“And even more evidence is that the other two match up perfectly to Saeki-san and Hanichi-san. Saeki-san says he dances, which matches up with the journal saying ‘wants to smile during his work, but he can’t because he was traumatized once tripping while moving to stage right in college’. Stage right refers to the left of the stage, right for the audience, and is a drama term- something that idols and dancers and singers and all the others would need to know. Hanichi-san… well…”

He suddenly trailed off, and there were some noises of stifled laughter in the background, but before anything could happen Konda’s face distorted into one of fear and attempted to escape the room, when policemen apprehended him as Kudou continued talking. “A-ano, if nobody figured this out, Hanichi Shukeda is a very bad anagram for, the, uh, rising famous shogi master, Haneda Shukichi.” There were more laughs on the other side as people gave wide-eyed stares to the Hanichi- Haneda man, including Heiji himself. Kudou didn’t tell me about this!

Seriously? Heiji never followed shogi news, but seriously?

“Unsurprisingly, he followed his dream and, uh, got a girlfriend, I would have to assume. But for personal reasons, Haneda-san doesn’t want to reveal her.”

“You are right,” Out of his shock, Haneda said with a bit of blush on his face. “Honestly, I probably should have come up with a more creative anagram, but…” He watched as the culprit was brought away, eyes full of tears, but Heiji didn’t feel any sympathy. Not when the man had then admitted to killing, just because the journalist wrote that he wasn’t a personal fan of his works- and nothing he could have said could have made Hattori Heiji more angry.

He rubbed at his hair, playing with the strands with a sigh of exasperation on his lips.

Come over here, Hattori,” Kudou said at the end, not opting to say a word during the culprit’s confession. “I still have something I need you to do.”

Kuroba was waiting for him, after the case was closed, crossing his arms at the entrance. “That was pretty cool,” he said, clicking his tongue, before sly indigo eyes looked at Hattori, giving him an unsettled feeling. “So that was the so-called Kudou Shinichi of the East? Heisei Holmes and all that?”

The many nicknames that Kudou had were the ones that people knew him by, and Heiji couldn’t say that he was jealous, not even when he tried to figure out exactly why he wasn’t. Kazuha would have thrown a chair at him by now if she found out how uncertain he was about things now, so Heiji puffed up to give a hot-blooded response with bright green eyes.

“What, ya not impressed?” Heiji huffed, putting hands on his waist. “Can’t believe he actually called me, though. Usually I’m the one calling him in the morning and he hangs up in two seconds flat.” There was almost a hearty chuckle to come with the thought. But it was quickly distracted away from him.

Kuroba looked at him. “So that’s the guy Chibi-kun talks about? The ‘Shinichi-nii-chan’?” There was a certain way that he glared at him that made Heiji very nervous. The look, mirroring the one of a hunter, meeting another hunter deep in the forest. And executing a look of sheepishness, Heiji blinked, subconsciously putting his hands deep into his pockets.

“Well, I-I g-guess so, haha…” Heiji stiffened up, perfectly aware of his stuttering and smiling as innocently as possible. “I’ll bet ya that ya’ll never see him, anyways. Seems so gone recently, but still, instead...”

Indigo eyes became clouded with mist. “Kudou Shinichi, huh…” Kuroba left off dreamily, not even listening to anything Heiji was saying, before on his lips were a cold smile of which Heiji had never seen before. Chills went down his spine at the sight and he instinctively stepped back.

“I see.”

 

=

 

It was nearing midnight and Kuroba Kaito wandered around, on the streets, staring off into the distance while kicking a rock, indigo eyes drifting off to things and another. The name showed up so many times now; the man so connected with everyone yet was never actually there, Kudou Shinichi. Always in the background of someone’s mind, always there, existing, but never showing himself right front.

Nevertheless, Kaito was no detective, just a magician who happened to scramble across the possibility of becoming the new Kaitou 1412, or Kaitou Kid, and grasped the opportunity hard in his hands. Wearing a brilliant white coat, suit and top hat, dancing around in the center of night, heisting with gems to find that they were indeed, not Pandora- yet feeling both disappointed and relieved, at the same time.

Kuroba Kaito. Kaitou Kid. What a dreary but ironic coincidence; one that Kaito was sure that his father found amusing when he was still present in the world. Maybe he even foretold the fact that one day, his son would take up the mantle of Kid, and that’s why he named him that to begin with. For all that smartness that detective boy Hakuba seems to possess, he never made that connection, combined with the fact that the former Kid disappeared seven years prior- even Kaito could deduce that his father, the previous Kaitou Kid, had to stop for reasons or another and then pass the title off to his son. Surely that proved that detectives were nothing but critics, chasing after artists with no appreciation of the art whatsoever.

Maybe Hattori Heiji was different. For one, the Osakan detective seemed to actually care for people, unlike Hakuba, who did it for the job; and the second was that he seemed to genuinely think that the law was absolutely good- and he kind of reminded Kaito of himself. Not that he would ever tell the detective that.

Oh, there it was, the sharp pain to the lobe of his head as Kaito rubbed at it again, trying to ease the heavy aching. He took out his phone- oh, darn it, he forgot that he still hasn’t bought a new one ever since Aoko threw his out. Kaito’s expression changed to something he was sure would be scary if he saw it as a kid, but he couldn’t stop it. He trusted Aoko, and what did she do as soon as she saw a twentieth of the contents on his phone?

Chuck it into water! What, and they still expected each other to make up? Kaito pouted internally, toying with his hair.

Still, he didn’t hate her. How could he ever hate a girl that has hugged him, has helped him, and comforted him for… for more than half a decade? He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head, and sighed again. Hopefully she could figure out a way to apologize to him soon, and then it could all be over. 

Unless Akako doesn't want it to be over and pours oil on the flame, or something. That would be terrible, and Hakuba would both punch him and wince at him if this fight with Aoko was sustained.

But still. The pictures… 

Well, the old-fashioned way about notebook and pen would pose no problem if not for the fact that the old journalist who was now a corpse in the cafe died in the same way, and he really hoped that there was no cyanide on his pen. If he died here, it would be a complete waste, especially because he still has to crush the evil ambitions of whatever that organization would be by destroying Pandora. If not him, who else?

The journal, recording his symptoms for the past few days, was only a few pages full but Kaito had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t stop them. In the checklist underneath today’s date, Kaito crossed in the “severe headache” box, seeing the tick go satisfyingly though it, and sighed as he gradually made his way to the near-bottom of the checklist and drew an “x” shape in the box next to “eating and sleeping disturbances” too.

Staring down the page with a broken expression, Kaito didn’t know exactly what to think anymore. He knew the symptoms. He knew that they were the ones for amnesia, but it was strange, because Kaito could actually recall most of the nights he shouldn’t be able to, according to an online guide.

So what exactly is he supposed to be diagnosed with? Well, Kaito isn’t careless enough to go to a doctor to draw blood for testing, not when he could accidently be scratched with blood from a gun while being Kid too, and Kaito will actually jump off the side of a cliff if that’s how they end up catching him.

Not that they could, but things always happen. Lady Luck’s not always on Kaito’s side, even if she seems to favor him a lot, and sighing, Kaito drew his attention to the building he just walked next to. It was his apartment, or precisely his mother’s apartment, and tiredly, Kaito jumped up into the bed once in the room. The light was softly glowing a warm golden, making the room feel more homely.

Roughly, Kaito twirled on the bed, thinking of his father. If only Kuroba Toichi was still alive… he would always tease him, in such a kind way, and… they took all that away from him, just because of some gemstone. Worthless in all ways. Yet somehow able to compensate for a life.

Kaitou Kid would take all of that away from them, away from Snake, for daring to touch his life. His light, his parents, his world. After all, Phantom Thieves were possessive, and Kaito would be cursed if he said that he wasn’t a phantom thief, a magician, to his very core.

From his nimble fingers to how each pocket after washing would be filled with a packet of playing cards if ever needed for magic, he would be lying to say he didn’t love magic. Even if it was just a series of tricks- it was worth it to see the audience’s delighted faces after a wonderful show. And honestly, Kaito wanted to complain to the world about when he could possibly show off to the little precocious kid that he followed in his free time.

Tired, Kaito flipped around onto his stomach. What were his days recently? First he gave away his umbrella and had to rush to the convenience store buy another one after playing cool, then the moment he wasn’t looking the kid he was observing got rolled into another murder, and then he got kidnapped and had to share a car with the semi-annoying Osakan detective Hattori, and now he ended up going to the mall with said semi-annoying Osakan detective and found a body there, too.

Blood made Kaito nauseous. So he was glad to have left the scene so soon, especially because he spotted a pet shop right across from the cafe and there just so happened to be a fish display, right out there in the glass. That had to have been targeted directly towards him; because he kept on trying to hide his sneaking glances of anxiety towards the fish and gulped down everything while he was concentrating on Hattori and Kudou solving the crime.

He sighed. And he had a heist coming up in just a few days, too…  Well, it seems his fangirl- what’s her name? Suzuki Sonoko, he thinks, would be there, and if his gentlemanly following had been correct, then the Suzuki girl happened to be the best friend of the girl that Conan lived with. Mouri Ran, if Kaito could recall properly, would be there too. And in turn, Conan might show up as well- even though Kaito tried to warn him- and he did overhear something about a party, but it seems like he was planning to come to the heist still. Which meant that he might not have been joking around saying that he and Hattori would end up coming to Kaito’s heist this weekend.

A highschool detective and a sharp boy with a keen mind? And that’s hoping Hakuba doesn’t come, too- imagine if they do, though, because it would be perhaps the hardest heist he ever had to pull off. And it's not like Kaito wanted to make a fool out of himself in front of the kid, especially not when it could be picked up by the ever-annoyingly perceptive bastard Hakuba Saguru.

Kuroba Kaito sighed into his pillow. It's been a long day, indeed.

 

==

 

The snacks that the professor made were described to be as tasty as usual, but they tasted like ashes in Haibara’s mouth as she looked waveringly at the sandwich in her hands. It may or may not just be her imagination, or a hallucination of some kind, but her hand felt like it was trembling of a shiver and she sighed, biting on her lip. Suddenly the sweet didn’t seem appetizing anymore.

Breathing out, Haibara put the food onto the plate on the table, careful for the eyes lingering on her while she did so. Sitting at professor Agasa’s house with the Detective Boys, eating snacks and playing video games, usually was a relaxing and carefree event that she’s grown to even look forward to. But today, it felt more like a burden than a fun little thing for afterschool. Not that she’s ever been to school before.

It was Wednesday and earlier, Conan had already told her of how he, and she, were to attend a party starting on saturday- all of that was all well and fine but it was most likely a trap. Especially when the one to pick them up would be Amuro Tooru, the one whose presence kind of reminded her of one of the organization- but both gave her heart an unsettling beat different from that of Gin and Vermouth’s. And Conan must know that too or he wouldn’t have asked so wholeheartedly for Haibara to come, along with… “Kudou Shinichi”.

But why? It was what she absolutely hated about Conan; whenever he had a plan, he would only explain enough for Haibara to know a general idea of the first parts of it, but the important parts, he never tells her. She needs to know for her heart to be settled.

“Ai-chan?” As if sensing her wavering spirit, Ayumi asked uncertainty, and a chubby little hand reached to pat her on her head. “Are you okay?” She said, blinking widely, and perhaps seeing such an innocent and carefreely familiar face got Haibara to smile despite herself.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Haibara nodded, keeping her face as steady as possible and Conan noticed, giving her a sideways glance, a worrying look clear in his blue eyes. But contrary to her words, a cough bubbled past by her lips and sheepishly, Haibara tried to smile. “I just have a bit of a cough.”

Ayumi still looked concerned, but didn’t press, not when Genta pulled her back and shoved a controller into her hands, and being the young girl she was, Ayumi forgot about her and pressed the buttons in play. Watching them almost brought a heartwarming feeling into her heart.

As if reading her mind, another voice piped up. “You have a cough?” 

Conan asked, edging towards her from the other side of the couch, and his thin fingers wrapped around her palm and she was aware that Agasa was looking at her with worried eyes too. The people here were too nice, too calm, too warm… too different from the life she had before.

So even though her life was constantly at risk, and every breath could be her last… Haibara Ai doesn’t regret betraying the organization at all. Where it was just endless coldness and death and experimentation, and each word to her ears were demands from Rum to hurry up or something of another. She shivered, just thinking about it… how many people have died indirectly by her creation? And the bothered little boy with bright blue eyes, sitting right in front of her, reaching out and sharing his warmth, would have been one of them too.

They say he has terrible luck, which he does, but when it counts- the possibility was always in Edogawa Conan’s favor. Or maybe it was because of his ability to survive, or something, but perhaps whatever lord out there in charge of luck both loves and hates Conan.

“Yeah,” so she answered, and Conan’s eyes went flat with concern. “We should get you to a doctor.”

The concern was a little bit comforting, and a smile threatened to spill on Haibara’s lips, but she kept it in forcefully as she snuggled deeper into the couch.

“No need for that. It’ll go down in a few days if I take some medicine.” She reached out, getting off the couch to grab a pill bottle labeled with ‘cough medicine’, and took it down with a glass of water before returning to the couch, all under his blue watchful eye. Even though she thought it wasn’t like she would ever tell him that, she sent him a flat look instead. Though she did feel slightly insulted by his words. “I am a highschool genius biochemist, the likes of which can rival you in your detective-ness, you know.”

After a few seconds, Conan laughed with a blink, relieved as if thinking that the sarcastic young Haibara Ai that he knew was still there, and Haibara smiled secretly, too. “Alright, alright, but if you develop a fever too we’re getting you to a doctor as quickly as possible.” He stuck his hands into his pocket.

Haibara nodded, eyes forming into slits before she laid down on the bed, snuggling into a nearby pillow the size of thrice her head. “Oi, Mitsuhiko, don’t bump your car- Ayumi! What was that for, you bumped me off the road!” Genta exclaimed over his racing game, and it sent a fit of giggles underneath her breath. Conan also smiled wistfully, as if wishing he could just enjoy this moment without the stress settled over his shoulders.

“Listen, Haibara. Just this once, okay?” Quietly, Conan said, sapphire eyes falling silently on his expression with a small, unreadable look spread right across his face.

Noting her hesitation and perhaps even her shivering, a large smile broke out across his face.

“Yeah, okay-!” Her attention leaked away soon enough as Conan dangled six pieces of paper in front of her face, and Haibara’s eyes widened in surprise, trying to figure out if the papers were what she thought or not. Seeing her gaze, Conan’s smile widened, and he stuck out his tongue passionately. “This is for after the party and Kid’s heist! I know you don’t want to go, anyways.”

The words printed on the papers were clear, but Haibara couldn’t believe it anyways.

“Is that…?” Carefully, Haibara asked, blinking turquoise with her mouth open in surprise.

Conan nodded. “It’s the tickets to Osaka BIG’s next soccer match! I saw you eyeing it earlier. Aww, don’t act like you don’t like Higo Ryusuke-senshu. Here,” he shoved the tickets into her hands, much to her shock, and her lips curled up just slightly as she shook. Looking up, Haibara’s eyes blinked a few times and her heart pulsed. “Is this for real…?” She took the tickets in her hands as if they were the most fragile and delicate pearls with nearly rotten sheen, and Agasa smiled proudly on the side.

“Yeah, of course.” He patted Conan on the back, as if complimenting the kid for his genius, as the sapphire-eyes boy’s chocolate curls fell next to his ears as he closed the lids on those shocking eyes.

From the bottom of her heart, Haibara just had to ask. “But how did you get enough money for this?”

Conan smiled mysteriously. “My parents came back to town.” He mentioned briefly, and before she knew it, a warm flower spread across her chest.

Haibara hugged him, shoulders released of all tension.

 

===

 

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, days all passed so quickly in just the blink of an eye and before Amuro Tooru realized it, it was already Saturday and time to pick up Edogawa Conan came. The Mouri Detective Agency seemed more lively, with the addition of two others walking down the stairs alongside the little boy, whose eyes looked dimmer than usual and more annoyedly flat.

The girl with the auburn hair and wearing a turtleneck, and a tall teenager with a face that definitely reminded Amuro of Conan walked next to the latter, and seeing the car, Conan hastily waved at the white car and Amuro rolled down the window glass, and quickly enough the before empty car was loaded with three more people.

Conan. Edogawa Conan. He was the most suspicious of the bunch for sure- though Amuro immediately singled him out when he first set eyes on the group of kids in the cafe, he didn’t expect the kid to be sharp. How the officers missed how he led them through the case at the birthday party room like a snake was something that Amuro didn’t get; not when they were Japan’s officers, but that was all fine and well. What really bothered Amuro about the kid was the fact that he looked so very similar to a face he’s seen many years ago.

But how? Last time, he was ten, at the very least. Now, he is six, still with the rounded face and now with dirty old glasses that framed his eyes horridly. Children don’t regress in age like that, and no one- except Vermouth- should be able to preserve their youthful looks. When he entered the name “Edogawa Conan” into the PSB’s data archives and ended up with a blank slate, it may as well have been a letter of challenge. And Amuro was and is never one to back down from a challenge. Not when they sent his heart into a frenzy and rushed the pump of adrenaline through his veins.

The sound of light whistling caught his attention.

The highschooler, Kudou Shinichi, Amuro assumed, sat next to him with an unreadable expression on his face, and Amuro could see why the news loved this guy for a while. He was all very handsome indeed, with sharp blue eyes, but there was an unsettling way that he looked at Amuro, like he knew everything. Perhaps it was because this man was indeed marked ‘dead’ on the list of people registered with the apotoxin that Sherry made- but it was easy to reconsider all of that, now that Sherry evidently became a traitor. 

“My name is Kudou Shinichi.” Kudou respectably nodded, dark hair falling next to his face, a lazy smile displayed peacefully as his expression, but there was a thread of tension that Amuro didn’t have the time to grasp onto before it disappeared. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know that, but Amuro gave him a sunny smile, careful not to strain his expression even by the littlest bit. “Likewise. I’m Amuro Tooru, though I think Conan-kun has told you that already.” He paused, before continuing on with a layer of shadow in his tone. “But color me surprised to find the famed ‘Kudou Shinichi’ who has been missing from the news for so long to suddenly come.”

He laughed nervously, eyes twitching just a bit and glancing off to the side. “It was unexpected for me, too. But I happened to be free this weekend and had not much to do, anyways.” There was a sort of tension in his facial muscles that caused Amuro’s eyes to narrow, just by a little bit, and he stored it in the suspicious filed kept at the very back of his mind.

For some reason, Conan was looking angrily at the Kudou Shinichi detective, and there was almost a cloud over his head. And the girl- Haibara Ai, Amuro amended, looked like she wanted to leave immediately, but there was a calmness about her that he couldn’t put a finger on.

But one thing was clear. 

These three… they were three terrible liars, all hiding their own secrets underneath a mask. Amuro Tooru could recognize another liar on sight, when he himself was one too... How very suspicious.

“Well, I’m going to start the drive now- it's nearing midday and it would be incredibly rude of us to be late when we were invited by luck.” Amuro started the car, the engine coming on with a roar, and there was a startled intake of a gasp coming from Conan before he pressed on the pedal. If he was right… Well, Kudou Shinichi was smart, and he was labeled ‘dead’ on the organization’s list of registered apotoxin humans, so he must have had an encounter with the organization at one point in his life.

Which means he may very well be after the organization, if the multitude of newspapers about this highschool detective were correct. And that would mean he was alert, having his guard up, and knew that he was walking right into a trap- and Amuro could assume that he had to be as sharp as they say, if the organization felt enough need to kill him off. Who knew exactly what he was hiding?

Amuro laughed, contrary to himself, earning a strange look from the Haibara girl. She was too tense; too upset, and he had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t the innocent girl she seemed to be, either.

Kazami. Even though Amuro doubted exactly how the man got into the PSB to begin with sometimes, he wasn’t stupid, and surely he would have done as Amuro said and infiltrated the organization too- along with hidden forces- in order to stop any and all death and fires that may break out during this roughhouse of a party. Organized by the organization's sub-head, Rum, themselves.

“...Say, Amuro-san…?” The girl said, in a low voice, who shivered underneath her turtleneck childishly. “...Edogawa-kun said something about a fifth person you brought… Who could that be...?”

Her eyes were flat, completely apathetic, and Haibara Ai pursed her lips with a tremble. She seemed truly afraid of him, and even more so of who he could be bringing- she was perceptive if she could pick out exactly who the dangerous one in a crowd was.

“Ah, she’s a friend of mine. You’ll see soon; she’s driving there in another car, I think.” There was a thick-laid smile on his face, not Amuro Tooru but Furuya Rei- his basic form- was a master at acting and he gave a truly sunny smile, drowning out all darkness and insecurities in his expression.

For some reason, that made the Haibara girl look even more scared, and she and Conan put their hands together. Now that he saw her in the rear side mirror, Amuro could see that Conan seemed to be stressed about something, too, face struggling with keeping up a calm mask. Through the time that Amuro met him- which wasn’t much of a time- he figured out that Edogawa Conan was a precocious child that was nearly fearless and rushed straight into a case with no hesitation. He wore thick layers and it must be hot, yet it was hard to say anything against considering the cold weather today.

The gun ached against Amuro’s thigh.

A voice suddenly spoke up. “It is strange, though. You must be blessed by Lady Luck for her to give you five entry passes to a private party.” Slyly, Kudou said quietly under his breath, and when Amuro snuck a glance at him there was a certain dreamy look in his eye that caused a shudder to go through Amuro’s chest.

“I wouldn’t say I’m that lucky, but it certainly happened. What- would you not like to come, Kudou Shinichi-kun?” He said every syllable slowly, pressing and emphasizing on each word, eyes focused on driving yet mind wandering too much elsewhere.

Humming for a few seconds, Kudou looked out the window, before his voice dropped lower with a humored seriousness. “I see, I see. Of course I would like to come. After all, this is too good of an opportunity to pass off, you know?” There was a shadow hiding underneath his tone as he tapped on the window, pressing the button to lower the glass as the feeling of wind spread across his face.

So he did know it was a trap, as expected. If Section Chief Kuroda knew about this highschool detective… no, it was certain that Kuroba did know, but worked in a different section, with the Nagano police force… a traitorous whisper at the back of Amuro’s mind voiced how Nagano… was where Hiro’s brother was, too.

Amuro sighed. He’ll never be able to let go of the past, not without killing Akai Shuichi with his own two hands, stained with crimson blood, will he? But that’s the thing.

He wanted to kill Akai Shuichi.

He turned the wheel, driving the car to the right, and drove.

 

By the time that they arrived, it was already in the afternoon, and Amuro had to say it was a refreshingly long drive that tired out even him and his infinite stamina. Unsurprisingly, the party was set outside, in a park- a fact that seemed to really upset both Conan and the Haibara girl, for some reason- because the thick trees and burrows made it very simple as a perfect place to snipe from.

This party would last until midnight. So there was a good chance that they wouldn’t act now, not in the broad daylight. And it looked like Amuro’s “friend” wasn’t quite here yet.

“Ah, Fu-Amuro-san!” a voice called, and it wasn’t one that he was familiar with. The man was tall and slim but with clear muscles and a classic Japanese face, wearing a suit, and the unmistakable taser curled in his clothes by the wrinkles dubbed this man the one Kazami chose to disguise as. Funny that he chose someone that looks scarily more handsome than his actual face looked.

Amuro nodded, to notify the agent that indeed, he recognized him. “Dai-san,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a twist of his lips. “It’s nice to see you here.”

With a respectful nod back, Kazami smiled, and the sound of footsteps from behind alerted Amuro into narrowing his eyes. “Is this the friend of Amuro-san’s?” another voice rose up from behind him, and it was the curious steps shared between Kudou Shinichi, the Haibara girl, and Conan. Like detectives, like suspicious people, they got their noses stuck between every closed door.

He didn’t announce his thoughts. “Ah, no. I was just surprised- this is Danroku Hida-san, an accomplished businessman- we met when he was a guest at Poirot’s last month. Hida-san, this is Kudou Shinichi-kun, Haibara-chan and Conan-kun.” 

At the name “Kudou Shinichi”, Kazami decidedly decided to stiffen, but that wasn't a big surprise to Amuro. After all, who in the PSB hasn’t heard of the supposed ‘Savior of the Japanese Police’? But lightheartedly, Amuro just smiled, leaning back into himself as he watched the guests intently.

It was hard to say who was here. Any of them could even be Rum in disguise- and who knows, perhaps even Chianti and Korn decided to show up. It was hard to say, when the impatient man was in charge. He said this mission was left to Bourbon, Everclear and Vermouth, but who knows what he might be doing to speed everything up- for everything’s sake, Amuro wouldn’t be surprised if Gin showed up, especially because Kudou Shinichi was here. People could die left and right, and who knows if they would kill Kudou Shinichi on sight or capture him for later.

‘Time is money’, after all.

Walking over with the sound of pitter-patter for steps, a smooth low voice spoke. “Nice to meet you, Kudou-kun.” Kazami said to Kudou, completely ignoring the two kids- but that was to be expected and they seemed to be sending each other mixed signals, extremely hard to read and perhaps they had their own special way of communicating and understanding with each other, just like Rei and Hiro once did, before tragedy struck and took the man away from him.

Oh, the name was back in his head. Amuro shook it- there was no time to be thinking about that now. Who knew what could happen in the next few seconds, and he would rather be diced than miss it and have people die as a result of his foolishness. Just like so many nights ago.

Akai Shuichi…

Amuro has a strange feeling that the man will be more involved tonight than anyone would have anticipated. The “Silver Bullet”, the “Ace of the FBI”, the “Man that the Organization Fears Most”- all such titles that are completely meaningless. Not when he, someone proclaimed so strong, couldn’t save a single person. There were so many different ways that the fateful night underneath the full moon could have gone- so many ways, and yet nothing changed, and Amuro, as Furuya Rei, as Zero, lost the last thing in the world that truly mattered to him. Why, out of all of his friends and his police squad- the one who was the most dark of all was the one to survive in the end?

After all, the police exist to serve and protect the people. Even if they allowed deranged individuals like Amuro himself to do it- as long as the sense of justice still burns, he’ll consider himself a good person.

But was he, really?

It's been far too long since Amuro has found a positive thing in his life. Every glow, every fire, every ember- it was all diminished at a heartbeat and the only thing left was a burning sense of revenge to the organization for taking everything away from him.

Wow, he really wasn’t a good officer, much less a good person. Not when his entire perspective was built on revenge and the taking of all of their petty lives, so destructive and not caring for what they burned along their path to devour more.

Amuro smiled, cold and silver.

“Likewise, Dai-san. Oh, I’m sorry- I haven’t attended one of these parties since so long ago.” Kudou said as he ungracefully toyed with a rock in his hand, giving a passive but analyzing look to Kazami, who gulped underneath the intense blue gaze. “Pardon me for my manners.” He reached out a hand, seemingly forgetting about it before, and Amuro’s subordinate took it.

Kazami forced a smile on his face, and that in return made Amuro give himself an internal chuckle too. “A-ah, it's no problem. Though I am honored to see the famed highschool detective in person- you are as handsome as they say.” He complimented, almost wholeheartedly with a blink, and Amuro gave a mixed feeling of both agreeing and denying. 

For some reason, Kudou Shinichi stiffened up at that and his eyes became more annoyed, shining blue, and he bit his lip in aggravation as his words sped up. “Handsome? Hah, thank you. I-I wouldn’t, erm, say ‘h-handsome’ when I see my face, though. My totally best friend, Hatt-!”

Conan came up to the man and impatiently pinched his leg, while the Haibara girl gave a look of exasperation and dug his feet on Kudou’s foot. The latter winced and then apologetically smiled at the kids. That was curious- what was that all about?

“Shinichi-nii-chan,” the kid said, and it was like Kazami finally acknowledged their presence as he looked down at the pair too short to even reach his knees. “Don’t make up false rumors, like Heiji-nii-chan is more handsome than you, or something.”

Kudou puffed, cheeks flushing a very pale pink, blue eyes dimming into an unnatural indigo color.

“‘Heiji-nii-chan’?” Amuro quoted, crouching to ask Conan who looked even more aggravated than usual, and he rolled his eyes sarcastically as if he couldn’t believe what Kudou Shinichi was saying. “He’s talking about Hattori Heiji- the great detective of the west, or something. He’s Shinichi-nii-chan’s rival and apparently best friend.”

Face contorting into one nearing a childish pout, a strange accent poured into Kudou’s voice. “Oi, what do you mean ‘something’?” And then as if realizing something was strange, he collected himself and stood upright, the wide eyes before immediately changing to be one more like the Kudou Shinichi that is displayed in television news and newspaper pictures around Tokyo.

Conan pouted too, while Haibara sighed, and the two had some more quiet communication before both of them exhaled in unison, before stiffening up straight again once a familiar figure walked up to him, and Amuro raised an eyebrow. “Ah.” He said, breathing out shakily.

The beautiful face of the lady smiled graciously at him, approaching with clever steps on high heels, expressing a perfectly ripe coldness and there was a certain grace to her every step and every breath. Long, platinum-blonde hair fell past her shoulders, curled at the very bottom, and pale lashes framed large turquoise eyes that hung above an English nose and wide, purple lips.

He waved with a cold smile, letting her appearance not fool him as he set his posture straight, exhibiting the most handsome look he put together with the white gloves and perfect vest and gem embedded on his collar.  

 

“Hello, Sharon Vineyard-san.”

Notes:

I'm tired again. This chapter is longer than the last few and I have to say I'm not impressed with myself. I apologize for the people that actually read through the murder; it was made up in about two hours and I have no idea how many different plotholes could be in it. I just tried really hard. edit: oof i just realized i didn't explain the blood. uh, the original plan was for the old man to also have an illness where he was coughing blood, so there's you explanation!

This chapter was actually supposed to come out yesterday, but I had a nosebleed for the second time in my life and ended up having to not use my electronics for reasons and another.

I've been reading a lot of fanfictions for Detective Conan recently. Honestly, a lot of the ones on Ao3 are in Chinese, so I read them in Chinese. I learned a lot of things from those fanfictions. Apparently, the ship between Akai x Amuro x Conan is called "ScarletCon" (ScarletShin or simply Scarlet Color), which makes sense, I guess, because the arc between Bourbon and Akai and Conan was called the Scarlet arc.

Was this chapter okay? I dunno. All I know is that I wrote a consistent amount today and I hope to write more for next week.

Special thank you to Dol_271096 for chatting about how everyone simps for Conan and LuckyClover_Help for commenting at all. Also, in October, the Kudou Shinichi Selection is coming out! (Can you tell I'm ecstatic?)

Like always, thank you for reading! Please tell me if I made any mistakes, because I have no beta! I appreciate all hits, kudos, and especially comments, and I see them all even if I don't happen to respond to them!

Chapter 10: IV Part III

Notes:

warning: use of religious themes such as the Garden of Eden, please avoid as needed, and explicit descriptions of explosions and fire.

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

Chapter Text

Chapter IV Part III

 

“Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell.”

 

What exactly is it that brings a beat to a man’s heart?

How exactly does a woman tinkle and snap before hands close on the victim of their desires, before they surrender all of their soul to them? The art of seduction was something that was too sacredly inhumane, something forbidden, like the apple hanging just above Adam as the human took the fruit, clearly out of his reach, into his hands and bit into it. Seduced by not the woman he loved but by the deceiving snake, whispering out sweet lies, which she represented.

Sharon was the snake, grinning sweetly with canines hiding just behind her sunny smile. And she has mastered the art of the craft, able to transform into anything- anyone, any type, that people would pull and grasp for.

That was what made her so formidable. She amused herself by toying with the minds of men who pitied her for her seemingly lack of lovers in her life, and then crushed their hopes one by one for daring to suggest that they could even step a foot closer to her. Sharon wasn’t arrogant. Nor was she egotistical. But the fact remains that Sharon Vineyard, Sharon Carasuma, was an untouchable woman that no mortal man could conquer.

She hated people. She loved people. But she treated them all the same, with that fake respect and gratitude and love, pulling and prashing at the strings and ribbons attached solely to her lean fingers. She wore makeup, light and thin or heavy and beautiful, wore shaded eyeshadow and curled her naturally long lashes, and layered her lips with flattering purple lipstick to accentuate the look.

A lie. And Sharon was most definitely a liar.

She dressed in the most beautiful way imaginable, partnering the look gracefully with her delicately drawn face, emphasizing on both the purple of her lips and the turquoise of her eyes, lastly decorating her hair with a beautiful flower, fading almost mystically from the two colors. Arriving in a large car and making sure that the way she sat would create no fold or crannie into her dress, she came out, smiling confidently as a familiar figure- two familiar, then three, then four, all came into view.

Bourbon. Dressed handsomely, more than usual, pretty face for once just slightly done with makeup, having his signature white gloves that became stained with blood too many times to count. Every piece of stray fabric and every curved line that he drew was perfect, posture upright, seemingly waiting for her to come while chatting idly with a highschool and two kids.

Too familiar.

Sharon rubbed at her eyes.

Kudou Shinichi- Sharon was no detective, but she knew . Knew that Shinichi, or what was left of him, had been reduced to the little kid standing next to, which meant that this Kudou Shinichi was not real. A disguise. But who would be the one to disguise as him- or, moresay, who would believe a little kid enough to disguise as someone that they’re not?

Curious.

And then there was the boy in question, blue eyes a single shade too dark, hiding a glitter of suspicion of the surroundings. He was wearing a suit, the red bowtie right next to his neck, and eyes scanning everything- especially Sharon, who he glared at with shock and fear. Sharon knew that he wouldn’t remember. Sculpted it into herself. Told herself that it would be for the best.

She laughed in her chest, hiding the mirrored echo of what might have been a genuine sound, as she carefully looked at him, hiding all trances of recognition away from her sight. The smile on her lips might even have looked real, if not for the fact that she was aware of the pang of pain that clashed into her heart, sounding irritable and hurtful as the sound of a knife, scraping against bloody metal.

Sharon let the feeling dull until it was nothing but a dry feeling of aching, like the worst feeling of drowning in a flooding society turned into oxygen not quite but somehow fit for her lungs.

This party- Sharon eyed the little girl, Haibara Ai, carefully as she seemed to sense the look and immediately stiffened up, looking frantically from side to side, turquoise orbs scanning her surroundings in order to figure out if it was a trap- though the boy must have told her already, it must still feel like something was off. The calm atmosphere, the beautiful skies, the hidden fairy lights hanging off the trees, only visible if a person squinted- Sharon let her posture be calm and caring, contrary to her cold eyes.

“...It’s… you, ” the boy said, sapphire eyes poking up at her with a quiver of a shiver. Sharon debated for a second if she should sprinkle an ounce of her true feelings into her act, but decided against it as a sugar-sweet smile danced on her lips. “I’m sorry, have we met before, boya?”

His eyes lowered to the ground as automatically, he and the Haibara girl shifted together as he pulled her hand to speak in private somewhere else, and with a curious look, the disguised guy acting as Kudou Shinichi pinched at his hair and put a hand to the back of his neck before deciding to follow them, too.

It left only Sharon and Bourbon standing there, other guests conversing in the background, so completely unaware of the events that will be taking place tonight, underneath the guise of the silver moon. Bourbon crossed his arms, stalking over to her with a face that faded from the sweet one that his alias, “Amuro Tooru”, always wore on his face, exchanging it for a cold look. Perhaps a mixture of hate, disgust, uncertainty, and all the rest.

Sharon didn’t like that. She kind of wanted to slip a pill of poison into his wine glass tonight for such an offense, but in her mind, she didn’t really want to kill Bourbon. Not when the man had his own suspicious points and was one of the only members in the organization that had even the littlest of mercy. 

Much better than Gin, who would kill and destroy and shoot without care, even if it was a former teammate or anything like that. When Gin had heard that Curacao might have turned traitor, a few years back, he shot her leg without hesitation and it took her so very long to rehabilitate, and even now she walks with a limp and a look of fury to meet her eyes up with Gin’s own.

Bourbon frowned.

“...About the kid?” He asked carefully, eyes scanning her as if trying to pick out any flaws in her perfect act. Though Bourbon was known as the “Most Perceptive Man in the Organization”, Sharon would have had a misplaced career all these years if she could let anyone see past the mask on her face.

Turquoise eyes lowering her lids, Sharon feigned an expression of naive innocence. “Which kid do you mean, Amuro Tooru-san?” The poison hidden in the deep layer of her voice may be enough to tell that she was warning him not to touch the difference between her civilian identity and the coldhearted organization member Vermouth. Beautiful, ethereal, untouchable, and a killer.

She smiled.

“...You know very well that I mean ‘Edogawa Conan-kun’. Or… ah. What was he called back then? ‘Fubuki-kun’, right?” A panging silence replaced his words, just as blood seemed to pour illusionary.

With a chilling smile, Sharon took out the gun in her breast pocket and pointed the nozzle straight at his temple as a warning, and before anyone could recognize what she just did, she put it back into her chest and clicked off the safety, something that she knew that Bourbon knew as he looked surprised at the sudden threat. Also knowing that she couldn’t kill him, his smile deepened off the surprise and he leaned into his boots, grey-blue eyes glowing unnaturally. “...So I was right.”

Posingly, Sharon flicked at his arm, deciding to walk past him with a look of indifference drawn perfectly on his face, and her steps paused just as her breath hovered right under Bourbon’s ear, and she whispered chillingly in a low, quiet voice.

“Don’t you dare to ever try to get close to him with your bloodstained hands, Bourbon.” The sound of high heels ruffling against the blades of green grass underneath her feet. Something akin to worry pounded in her heart, but Sharon ignored it- knowing what was to come tonight, and how she warned the two of them exactly not to touch the boy, surely they would heed her warning.

Or else both Bourbon and Everclear had more coming to them than they thought.

Might she have turned her head, she may have caught the cold smile, sitting atop Bourbon’s otherwise expressionless face.

 

=

 

Breathlessly, Kazami rushed out of the scene, letting his heart pound harshly against his own chest. He could feel his own eyes widen and he grasped at his own suit, the fabric of the tie running loosely next to his polo shirt as he blinked, blood running cold despite the hot temperature in his flesh.

Furuya Rei had always been a frightening mind in the eyes of Kazami. As soon as he came, there was a sort of distant coldness that lingered around the man, who loomed above others with his cutting intelligence and quick wit, having a perfect score in the police exams that was nearly impossible to achieve. As funny as it was, when Furuya first enrolled into their division, Kazami technically had a higher rank than him, but there was always a sort of subordinate-senior relationship far before Furuya had risen and became his superior, instead. And faithfully Kazami followed, even if he did question Furuya’s methods, sometimes. Such as how he disarms bombs without proper tools, puts peoples lives at stake, sends people to jail on behalf of justice even if they did only the smallest amount of wrong.

They didn’t always agree. But Kazami never wavered his trust.

Not only could Furuya wear hundreds of different faces all at the same time, he also treated others with a cutthroat indifference. He did ease a tone of respect into the silver of his voice when speaking with the people directly above him, as he used to do with Kazami- but there was a merciless way that he stopped all formalities immediately as soon as his rank became higher than theirs that sent chills down Kazami’s spine.

It was plain and simple. Furuya Rei was a terrifying man, and any human that could even come close to rivaling him had to be something on the planes of being near a postmortal.

Even though he knew that Furuya’s persona, “Amuro Tooru”, was a soft soul that worked at a cafe underneath some detective agency, it was still hard to gulp down. Therefore, Kazami couldn’t believe his eyes to see Furuya act so… gentle, with a teenager and two kids, all looking strangely nervous at the party. It could be that they happened to be antisocial, but it could also mean that they know that something will be happening tonight, courtesy of the party being arranged by the organization. Especially because the teenager in the group happens to be the very famous highschool detective, Kudou Shinichi.

He seemed nice. But strange, and stared down at his hands in startled tones as if his hands weren’t his own. There was a certain intense gaze, however, in one of the two kids who stared up at him, that reminded Kazami quite like Furuya himself.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Through his earpiece, Kazami could hear the slight buzzing of it connected, before harsh taps caused him to wince as his heartbeat sped up again and his back felt hot like heated metal being pressed up against his skin. “Kazami,” Furuya’s voice said in a low tone, as if he heard his thoughts about him. “Are you searching around?”

“Y-yeah,” Kazami stuttered and then pinched himself for doing so. The pain shocked a little bit of sense back into his mind and he continued, lowering his gaze. “Currently I’m looking around for the trapdoor you mentioned- I can’t quite find it, though.”

Furuya gave a disappointed ‘tch’, and Kazami hated that his heart dropped, before Furuya continued in a voice that sounded thoroughly unaffected by everything else. “Based on where I sent you, if you go just a bit further, there’s a good chance you’ll find an iron handle underneath a bush.”

Blinking, Kazami began to furrow through the leaves, blades of grass pressed up against his knees as he winced when a branch poked him in the face. But after a few long thought seconds, as expected, there was an iron handle sitting just beneath a bushy crowd of plants. It looked very rusty, but the rust had fallen off very recently, proving that someone had lifted it up.

“I found it,” Kazami reported in a whisper of a voice, and a slightly cheerful hum was enough for him to bring out a small, portable flashlight and bring up the trapdoor. It was heavy for sure, straining on the hands, but not unthinkable for even a delicate woman to open it up if they put their entire strength into it. Kazami himself had a little bit of trouble but it swiftly detached, with not a lot of problems.

The tunnel underneath the trapdoor was dark, shadows looming into it from all sides, just as a voice breached his ears and Kazami nearly dropped the trapdoor on himself.

“What are you doing, Hida-nii-chan?”

A young, childish voice began behind him, and to his shock Kazami jumped and stared back at the faces of the two curious kids with Furuya and the Kudou Shinichi boy earlier. Recalling their names as quickly as he could, he put on a sheepish smile, aware of how the child glared daggers at it as if analyzing his every move, reminding him- yet again- of Furuya as Kazami gulped. “Ah, erm, Conan-kun and Haibara-kun. I’m just…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the two kids gave each other a careful glance before the boy, Conan, rushed up to the trapdoor excitedly, using a sort of exaggerated wonder in his voice that rang alarm bells in Kazami’s head. “Wow! Is this a trapdoor? Haibara, come over here-!”

Just as he called over the girl, there was a voice calling them over from the other side and out came Kudou Shinichi and Furuya, saving Kazami, and the latter was sure that he wasn’t missing the cold look on Furuya’s face that warned him to never be so careless to get caught by a kid again. Although the highschool detective seemed interested in the trapdoor, too, Furuya pulled him back and Kazami could see how his tanned fingers carefully wrapped themselves around both the kid’s collars, before tossing them gently into Kudou’s lap. “Kudou-kun, you shouldn’t let kids roam around! I’m sure that Danroku-san has his own reasons. Move along.”

And with a disgruntled look on his face, Kudou took the kids with a lot less benignity and practically grasped at the collars with no care, ignoring their pained yelps. What an uncaring guy, Kazami thought, as his eyes didn’t move at all from Furuya’s, which became more frightening by the second.

“Kazami… with these skills, anyone would wonder how you made it so far. Don’t be so mindless next time.” He said in a chilling voice, enough so for Kazami to straighten up instantly and salute slowly. “Yes, sir.” Hoping that it would be enough to let him off the hook- as it did and he breathed out a sigh of relief- Furuya sent him a look so cold that it was definitely fitting of his undercover persona, ‘Bourbon’.

The look that promised death if another wrong step was taken.

Kazami gulped but continued on his mission as Furuya wandered away, presumably to the highschool detective and the pair of kids that he could hear arguing in the background, and he walked down the stairway of the trapdoor, a nervous feeling rising in his chest.

The noise became quieter and quieter with each step and it almost felt like he was descending into chaos as Kazami knocked on the walls, receiving a harsh echo- it wasn’t hollow, and the stairs definitely felt like they were made of stone. The grip on the side of the walls, too, seemed to be wood, but had to be constructed recently due to the fact that it looked pristine and hadn’t biodegraded quite yet.

As his show clashed with the last step, a clear sound rang throughout the room, and Kazami’s eyes went wide, registering exactly everything in the vicinity.

“...Furuya-san…?”

After he called his name, the shock in his chest still hadn't dropped yet, and Furuya’s voice came back in an impatient whisper as the sound of happy cheering in the background caught Kazami’s attention, but he was too absorbed in everything around to pay too much of his thought to it. “What is it?”

“...There might be more than just a little bit of trouble tonight…” Eyes went over to the side, as he nodded quietly to himself. “...There’s a lot of stored explosives down here… far more than enough to decimate the entirety of the party guests. And… the bombs seem to be on a timer.”

Silence.

“I see.”

 

==

 

The party was going on fine, guests clashing bottles of wine against each other even in the beam of midday, and an Edogawa Conan and Haibara Ai that was rushed away from the suspicious scene of a trapdoor underneath a bush, alongside one Kudou Shinichi, all looked annoyedly back but didn’t turn.

The sun was now towards the left, and swiftly Conan looked at his watch to see the time for two o’ clock clicking straight on it, and it surprised him how fast time passed. They haven’t even done much, but-!

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

A loud voice echoed throughout the clearing as the party guests all evidently turned, waving their heads around to find out where the source of the voice came from, Conan and Haibara doing the same. Quickly they located a single platform, rising from a large box that surely hadn’t been there earlier, and a figure emerged after smoke covered the area and they coughed.

The figure, now standing atop the box and high above others, was someone that was tall enough to be considered a bit taller than Shinichi, with a slim figure. His face was masked with one that looked frightening- half smiling, half crying, painted a pristine white against the otherwise ebony black of the mask, as if it was praying for deaths and graves that hasn’t happened yet.

There were yells of complaint and suspicion around, but the three of them just analyzed the figure. He- Conan decided that they were a ‘he’, judging from the strong and broad shoulders and lazed posture, much like a youthful man would- had a cloak around the rest of his body, which wavered in the wind as he bowed down, voice clearly cryptic. A voice changer.

“Welcome to this party. I am thy host on this fine day.” Even though Conan couldn’t see underneath his mask, he had the strangest suspicion that the face was smiling, amused at the befuddled reactions of the public. “I hope thy are enjoying thyselves so far. Yes, I should think so, but we still have so long to spend together- I feel I must do something for thy to celebrate. I have hidden three series of codes, of which each answer reveals a clue for the next code- may thy have the best of luck.”

With that questionable speech, full of dramatic theatrics that made Conan wince, the people at the party seemed to have not believed the strange “host” who called himself “Adam”- what could it mean? He rubbed at his temples. The man did mention a series of codes…

“Who was that weirdo?”

“Was that a joke? But he called himself the ‘host’...”

There was a flurry of conversation about the strange figure that suddenly burst out of nowhere, but Conan was too busy analyzing the situation to pay it too much mind. 

“Holy- I have this weird alphabet grid stuck to my shirt,” a man said from a few meters away and instantly this burned Conan’s excitement and he ran over, tugging on the man’s shirt to steal the grid before anyone could react, and he scanned the sheet with slimmed eyes just as Haibara walked over to inspect the paper as well. “Rude, kid! Wait, is that an actual something for a code!?”

Touching the side of the sheet, Conan ignored the man as he scanned the letters with his finger, and no traces of ink were left on his thumb. Before long, a crowd had gathered- thankfully, nobody tried to tear at the paper, probably still thinking of it as a prank, but Conan had an idea of what it was. A grid of the English alphabet, the rows and columns ranging from “A” to “Z”. On the axis of the sheet, the random scramble of letters “ ygguqvdstbonng” was written almost frantically, and on the other axis the word “mystery” was written, plain and simple.

“What the heck is that?” A woman asked from above, but Conan answered in an unwavering voice. “...It’s a Vig è nere Cipher… a very famous method of ciphering that is very easy to decode. See, all you need is a ‘codeword’, also known as a ‘plaintext’, and a ‘keyword’. In this case, the ‘plaintext’ is the random jumble of English letters written over there- and the ‘keyword’ is mystery. If you go down the column for ‘y’ because of the letters and then trail down to the ‘m’ for mystery, the letter which they intersect is the one that the ending result is encrypted into. For this case… it's the letter ‘K’. And the final result is the message ‘keynumberthree”.”

Perhaps finally realizing how strange it is for a young kid to say all of this, Conan clamped up and laughed nervously in a way that didn’t match his appearance at all, before saying quickly, “I like to read and happened to stumble across this kind of code one day…”

They might or might not have bought his lie, but Conan was aware that Amuro was still staring at him- after he came over, seemingly had spoken something with the other man. Conan deeply suspected that “Hida Danroku” was a subordinate to Amuro, but nothing was quite set in stone yet.

“I-I see,” a man said in the crowd, and then instantly, there was another puff of smoke before another piece of paper dropped into Conan’s hands from somewhere in the air. He looked up curiously but couldn’t catch any glimpse of anything alive, and instead decided to focus on the little paper in his hands.

Another sequence of letters. This time, it was the four English letters, “FDQH”.

Conan smiled.

“What, do you know this, too?” Someone in the crowd asked but Conan didn’t care too much for any of that, and instead sent them a gentle smile, before tinkering with the paper with a slight fold. “Yeah. This is known as a Caesar Cipher, and it's a very easy but effective way of encrypting a message. You have a key number and then you offset each letter of the word you want to encrypt by the key number. For example, the word ‘CAT’ with the key ‘one’, the final message after encryption would be ‘DBU’. Likewise, to decrypt a Caesar Cipher, you offset the letters backwards- combined with the code from earlier, ‘keynumberthree’, it's safe to say that the key number is three. So if you offset the letters backwards by three, the word you get is ‘cane’.”

He shook his head. Did he talk too much again? Haibara, on his side, gave him a look that was even more aggravated than usual- and even though Conan knew why, all he could do was give her an embarrassed smile. It seemed he got carried away again. “Hahah,” he laughed slightly, trying to ease the strange looks on his face. “I-I saw it in the book too! It was a, ahh, a very interesting book. Very interesting.”

It might not have been convincing, not with how Haibara pinched his arm behind his back and he nearly gave her a dirty look in the background but could do nothing but keep smiling.

It seemed like whoever organized the party didn’t expect his codes to be cracked that fast, because there was a dulled sigh of silence in the clearing before the last code dropped into his lap with another puff of smoke- Conan had to ask where this person got this amount of smoke. Surely this much in Japan was illegal- and there was probably even more behind the scenes.

“Ohh,” Conan said, twirling the long strip of paper with the Japanese letters written in a strange order on it, completely unreadable, as his eyes scanned around to find the cane mentioned in the previous code while the surrounding crowd stared at him in shock. “Wait, don’t tell me you know what this is, too!?”

A cane. Conan found it and reached to grab the gold from the ground and it seemed to be a very high quality cane, just happened to lie there suspiciously on the ground, and Conan opened his mouth again, ignorant of the sigh that Haibara had next to him.

“This kind of cipher is called a Scytale Cipher.” He started, words slipping through his tongue too easily for a kid. “You get a long strip of paper, like this one here, and the ‘key’ in this cipher is a pole or stick- in this case, it's this cane. You wrap the paper around the cane, like so, and then the message is revealed. ‘Be… prepared’,” He read out oddly, eyes narrowing at the strange message, and rubbed at the words again, but nothing was revealed. Was that really it?

“...I’m guessing it's the book, again?” A person asked from behind him.

Conan smiled sheepishly, the grin big on his face.

A hand landed on his head and it was Kudou Shinichi’s, who twirled the strands around in both an annoyed and affectionate way. “Show-off,” he said, but Conan answered flawlessly, barely picking at his nails when the disguised guy crouched downwards with the most aggravated expression. “You could have showed off, too, but you didn’t.” He mentioned quietly, smiling to himself.

However, that was gone quickly enough when footsteps approached. “Kid,” A man said in front of him, after the crowd had scattered halfway due to the disappointing message. The attention drawn before disappeared like a grain of sand and Conan nodded upwards. “You aren’t some ordinary kid, are you?”

“...No,” Conan said, prepared to use the last trick that he knew to make sure that they didn’t suspect him too much. He got all of his remaining energy up, into a child-like smile, and formulated his cheeks into almost a cute pout, eyes growing bigger and rounder as he looked up cutely at the man. “I’m… an adorable one.”*

Haibara sent him the most annoyed look he’s ever seen her have.

This may have convinced him somewhat, but the man didn’t seem fully satisfied with his cutesy answer and just sighed, ruffling his hair away, but before Conan could say anything else-

-the ground exploded, cracking formulating as bright light covered them all.

 

Fire crackled from all sides and there was screaming and yelling and something like all the rest, flames erupting in a pit of ember smoke and Conan was shocked. Never did he think that they would go this far to kill Haibara, to kill him, and instantly he grabbed onto Haibara’s shoulders and shielded her from the smoke, covering her mouth with his hand but leaving enough for her to still breathe as he could hear her heartbeat when he pressed close to her chest.

“Calm down, Haibara…!” He rubbed comforting circles into her neck as she sucked in a heavy breath, no doubt understanding exactly what was happening as Conan spotted Shinichi in the distance. Kusou, Conan thought, biting on his lip as he raised his head up to meet the eye-catching brightness of the sun. I didn’t think they’d do anything during the day!

Clearly everyone around thought something along those lines because instantly, bodyguards of famous people started crowding around to protect people and Hattori, disguised as Shinichi, as himself, rushed over, grabbing both Haibara and Conan by the collar. “Hattori!” Conan shouted, eyes wide, but there came a sad smile on his own face that really disturbed Conan into silence. “Don’t worry about me, get ya freaking butt over there, ya danger-magnet little brat!” The Osakan accent that they spent so long trying to correct broke out in the chaos and Hattori, Kudou Shinichi’s eyes, broke out in a wild surprise.

Albeit it being uncomfortable, he tossed them to the side, making them land on the soft grasses- but only Conan did. Haibara hit her head against the trunk of a tree and despite Conan’s panicking shock to keep her awake, Haibara became unconscious.

Darn it!

He couldn’t blame Hattori. Of course not, not when the Osakan currently disguised as himself was risking his life by pretending to be Kudou Shinichi, and did that to save the two of them out of danger. It must have been very uncomfortable, too, knowing… but Haibara’s head was bleeding, crimson spewing out just a bit as her breathing became very heavy.

This wasn’t good. If she kept bleeding like this… she might never wake up, and having the thought suddenly rush into his head, Conan immediately tore off his sleeve and wrapped it around her head, keeping pressure as he pushed both gently and roughly to ensure the minimum of blood loss. How strange it was to be helping out someone with that face- Conan sighed, before resuming his work up in the hills.

Did anyone die? Did the fire consume anyone with it's dreary claws? Conan didn’t know and rubbed at his eyes with a sigh. The unnaturalness of how his glasses weren’t there bothered him, just slightly, and he allowed himself a breather by looking down the hill, where he could see nothing but flames.

Was Hattori alright?

The sound of a gunshot took away Conan’s breath as he immediately felt a wave of distress enter his body and Conan accidentally pushed a little harder, getting winced by the unconscious Haibara in return and Conan bit his lip. He couldn’t see blood around- but if the shrieks and screams of pain in the distance was anything to go by, the situation wasn’t good.

This party was dangerous. So much more dangerous than he had originally anticipated- and he felt a deep, painful and hurtful regret for dragging both Haibara and Hattori, and everyone else involved, with this nearly suicidal plan. No, Conan wouldn’t be able to truly live with himself if any of them died today due to his involuntary and inconsiderate ways. 

Kusou! Conan looked around, trying to find someone unhurt to take care of Haibara while he scoped out the situation- With the fire and the smoke, nearly nothing was visible to the eye, but he barely spotted the figure of- of - whoever Hida Danroku truly was, and even though that he very well may be part of the organization or worse, Conan had to take a bet. 

“H-Hida-nii-chan!” He called out and hated how his voice wavered despite how his face retorted into a state of deadly seriousness. “Help me take care of- of- Come over here!” He risked a look at Haibara before deciding to take the chance and grabbed the hand of the tall man who looked absolutely baffled at being dragged around by a young child, but Conan didn’t have the time to care about that right now. “Help me- stop the blood from running! You can do that, right!?”

“W-What?” Hida asked but Conan saw how his hands skillfully moved to press onto the blood in almost the effective way that Conan did it, and he knew that Haibara may be in good hands- though he didn’t trust Hida completely, there was no choice right now as he rushed into the fire. “Take care of Haibara!” He yelled behind him, and heard just the faded whisper with an inch of frightful curiosity drowning in it.

“Ah- okay, wait, but-!”

Conan didn’t listen any more. Rushing down the hill, he immediately and strategically moved around the fire to avoid getting burnt- but was trying to spot any sign of human life in the vicinity with large, nearly unblinking eyes.

But as he searched, there didn’t seem to be many people- or none at all in the stench of the smoke and hopefully that meant that everyone had already evacuated- but that hope seemed to be for naught as his foot touched something, something fleshy, something inanimate, something that used to be alive- a corpse, right next to his feet. Darn it, he cursed his luck as he pulled out his phone to call the police- of course the line would be out- that was very well to be expected.

“Kudou!? Why the heck are ya here, I thought I threw ya up the- the hill!?” The agitatedly concerned voice of Hattori sent the hairs standing on Conan’s back but in a good way as the surprise quickly led to relief as he flung himself upwards to give Hattori a warm hug. Evidently the highschooler was surprised by the action, a small faint dusting of a blush on his cheeks, only barely by his tanned skin, as he slowly hugged back despite the fire raging around them, threatening to destroy everything. “I-I… I…” Conan couldn’t even form coherent sentences out of his relief as he sighed in happiness.

Hattori’s grip tightened before the Osakan took Conan up and carried him, and Conan had to commend his mother for her excellent skills of disguising. Even through the chaos, Hattori looked exactly like Conan did before he turned into a kid, to say, Kudou Shinichi, and it must be some high-quality version, because Conan definitely had a list of people to thank when he got back.

Not “if” he got back. Because he will, and that will be something he’ll make sure of.

Hattori took him up the hill, speaking all the while in the Osakan accent that didn’t match his face at all, “I think I got everyone in the fire. Kudou, ya gotta trust me! What do ya think ya can do right now with your little kiddush body? Stop throwin’ yerself into danger! And where’s the girl?”

“She was unconscious,” Conan decided not to mention that it was because she got hit on the head by a tree trunk. “Someone's taking care of her right now…” he also decided not to say how it happened to be that one suspicious man, who was doing so.

Conan felt beyond relieved to have found that Haibara was, in fact, still there- and the Hida man was indeed still taking care of her and minimizing blood loss, but to both Conan’s shock and slight anger and distress, Amuro Tooru was there too, but just standing with a strange look of forlorning on his face, as if he was unsure of what to do the present moment.

Conan winced. If he was here, instead of anywhere else, then it meant that Haibara might be in serious danger.

And the sun hasn’t even come close to setting yet. 

 

=== 

 

In all honesty, Furuya Rei had a very mixed feeling to see the kid in such a bloody condition- and his injuries were tended by Kazami, no less, so the kid will most likely be fine. But what sort of worried Rei was that the other child rushed into the fire, according to Kazami’s statement, and that made him frown. Kazami was a PSB Agent, and he just allowed a six-year-old to rush into the fire unhinged?

As if he read his disappointment, Kazami had stiffened, but Rei’s attention moved away by a figure emerging from the fire, and it was Kudou Shinichi and the kid who rushed into the fire like a maniac. Perhaps seeing his little friend in such a delicate condition, Kudou stepped forward to gently touch the unconscious child’s head, while the other kid rushed over with a concerned look on his face.

Rei licked his lips, very slightly, just as the bright light caused from the sun’s reflection of the glass caught his eye and he barely had time to register exactly what was going on before the first bullet rained down from the sky and hit directly next to his foot, and for a moment he might have cursed the shooter but instead, his eyes widened in panic and Rei raised up his hand, moving his body to shield the others from further bullets.

“Run!” He summoned his energy to say, pushing Kazami and the kid out of the way just as another bullet landed right where they would have been, and Rei’s eyes widened. The sniper… they seriously were trying to kill someone and Rei almost felt a little bit of a chill, but kept his heart calm. No abnormalities, nothing, just a straight and clear head as he heard Kudou’s voice ring out. 

“Amuro-san, take Haibara-kun to your car, I’ll take Conan-kun to the forest to hide! RUN!”

Roaring into the last word may have caused a surge of shock and immediately, the highschool detective reacted, roughly grabbing Conan into his arms just as Kazami wavered to do what he said or not- and decided to listen to him and chased after Kudou, who sent one last look back at Haibara doubtfully but decided to leave her with Rei and out to the forest. Surely they could find a car with the masses of people that should have survived. Hopefully did.

And if they didn’t, it meant the blood was on Rei’s hands, because he could have stopped the explosion- as reported by Kazami- but didn’t. 

Rei took the Haibara girl, careful not to hurt her too much as he pushed into the forest, in the direction where his car should be, and the rain of icy bullets that flew down unnaturally from the sky had his heart pumping and chest rushing with adrenaline. The girl’s shaky voice rose up as she panted.

Luckily, they reached the car, and instantly Rei opened the car door and shoved the girl into the back seat before running to the opposite side to go into the driver’s seat, before closing the door with a loud crash. He started up the car, pulling down on the lever and his foot instantly touched the gas pedal and the car zoomed to safety, and Rei’s eyes blinked unnaturally.

The organization… they truly had no mercy. They were actually trying to kill him. 

In the cover of the forest, there seemed to be no way for the snipers to accurately find them, so Rei took the opportunity to press the has pedal to the fastest speed possible and with his excellent driving skills, soon they breached the highway, crashed into it, almost, as Rei bit his lip in something akin to an apology, but he couldn’t care less. Because he was Bourbon, there was a chance that the snipers may follow… and if they were Chianti and Korn, it might go badly. Even though Rum only put him, Vermouth, and Everclear on this mission, the man was very impatient. He may as well have added a few people.

What if Gin was there too, in the crowd, somehow?

Rei blinked, eyes clouding over. 

The light tapping behind him was something that first caught his attention, and the girl sitting behind his seat seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but even though she put on a cold face, Rei could see her shivering and trembling as staring off into the distance. Her heart seemed to be pumping, but Rei sighed in both relief and as an apology.

The silence was nearly unbearable, however, because she didn’t say a word, just tapped and tapped and tapped again and again and again, before Rei decided to speak up as a question.

After all… the day went exactly as Rum planned it would, down to the fact that Rei nearly died in the process. He could feel it, how the plan to lure the little girl, sitting behind him currently, into Vermouth’s hands, worked so very well.

That highschooler Kudou Shinichi really wasn’t anyone special, then… not with how he willingly pushed the Haibara girl into Rei’s hands, without Rei even having to say a thing.

“Why does Vermouth want you captured?” Rei decided to go with the biggest question he had. Even though Vermouth had explained that the girl, Haibara Ai, had to be delivered to her personally without question, Rei didn’t understand why. After all… Haibara was just a schoolkid… right?

The girl averted her turquoise gaze. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, but how her bottom lip wavered let Rei know immediately that she was lying.

“Don’t try to trick me, young miss.” A cold smile graced Rei’s lips and he fell into the lapse of Bourbon without even fully recognizing it, and instead, Rei decided to continue, aware that his eyes turned an eerie shade of icy grey and his voice became far too chilly. “Vermouth wouldn’t want me to capture you for no reason… Haibara Ai.”

Perhaps hearing her name snapped some sense into her, but she stiffened and looked off into the distance. “I…” she trailed off into silence, seemingly dug deep into her thoughts, but Rei just chuckled, a shadow underlying the otherwise normal phrase.

“Fine. Keep your lips shut, Haibara-chan… Chances are, you’ll be dead by midnight.”

His words were met with silence, but Rei didn’t decide to speak up again, yet after a few moments and heartbeats, the one to speak up was the little girl, who finally met eyes with him through the rear mirror. “Out of everyone… I didn’t think that you would be the one in the organization, Amuro-nii-chan.”

But before Rei could say anything, she continued. “No, that’s a lie. I already knew you were in the organization, but it was just hard to believe. This is a direct confirmation, I think. Well, that is fine, Amuro-nii-chan… or should I say, Bourbon-san?”

Rei blinked a few times. And then he laughed.

“I should have suspected you more… how you deciphered the codes earlier, like that… Too bad. We’re already close to the meeting point with Vermouth. Is there anything else you would like to say to me, before our little conversation is over?”

“No.” Haibara said with a silver of a laugh in her voice, before the childish gleam became something dead serious as her voice dropped ten meters below. “Bourbon-san… you’ll be the one to answer my questions. Specifically, I want to know about the organization.”

Rei raised an eyebrow. A strange feeling washed over him, but not one that he entirely disliked. “What makes you think I’ll answer anything?”

As if waiting for this question, a large smile split across Haibara’s face, before her voice cheerfully answered and her fingers gripped on the side of her cheek. “I think you would want to answer, Bourbon-san.”

And those thin fingers ripped off the layer of skin, the disguise, on her face, and it revealed that instead of Haibara Ai, the person sitting behind him was a smirking Edogawa Conan.

Notes:

Wow. Out of all of the chapters so far, you could say that the one I dislike the most has to be this one. It's just so terribly paced- but I have a valid excuse.

*Does anyone get this reference? No?

I have been distressing dwelling on this chapter, because originally, someone died in the chapter due to poison (again) but that idea got scratched off because the trick I used didn't fit well with the circumstances. I wasted five days debating this topic in my head, so instead of a murder I did three codes! These were hard to research, so don't judge me!

Yes, the entire time, Conan was disguised as Haibara, Haibara was disguised as Conan, and Hattori was disguised as Shinichi. If you read through the chapter again knowing this much, then you can see the little hints I have actually dropped for this. "Conan" (Haibara) was the one that got injured so from Conan's point of view, he called her Haibara. And also, every single time that it mentioned either of their genders in a way that would reveal this, I tried very hard to cover it up by saying "kid" instead of "boy" or "girl".

Next chapter brings huge plot reveals! And the next chapter will probably be the last of the weekly updates, because school is starting soon for me and I don't think I will be able to do this weekly. Every two weeks or three weeks seems more likely, but I will try very hard to bring updates in a way that won't interfere with my studies!

As always, please tell me if there are any mistakes in the comments, because I have no beta! I appreciate all hits, kudos, and especially comments, and I see them all even if I don't reply to them all! They make my day!

Chapter 11: V Part I

Notes:

warning: explicit descriptions of an unhealthy mindset, hatred and fury, unstable emotions, fire, and descriptions/mentions of threatening, bombs, gambling with a life, and also fluff

for @LuckyClover_Help.

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

Chapter Text

Chapter V Part I

 

Burning sapphire eyes bore into Rei’s soul from behind him, and he drew in a shaky breath, quickly clearing out all sense of shock from his body. If his training has taught him one single fact, it is that staying calm underneath every circumstance imaginable was the way to survive a mission.

So he glared daggers back into those blue eyes, akin to flames warmer than the extreme, and managed to oppress all fleeing emotions to give a cold chuckle through the rear mirror. The large, unblinking expression tied with the self-important smirk on the boy’s face was enough for Rei to close his eyes for a mere moment, before he quickly decided what to do.

“I see,” he said gently, contrasting with the icy words that came out of his mouth. “You were Haibara-chan the entire time, yes? I’ll bet that Haibara-chan was the ‘you’ back there… What a stellar disguise. But what makes you think I’ll answer anything?” Decidedly not mentioning everything he knew and just saying enough for Haibara- no, Conan, to know that he knew things, he said, but what he didn’t expect was for a large smirk to burst even further on the kid’s little face.

“I would definitely answer if I were you… Try to use your phone, or some other device,” Conan offered, and curious to what the six-year-old kid was playing at, Rei opened his phone and scrolled to the first contact he saw- Kazami’s, and he pressed on it. Instantly, the agent picked up, and on the other side came huffed breaths- but the sound of a car was harsh, too, suggesting that indeed they had managed to escape by hitchhiking on a car. A relief, to most of an extent.

The voice on the other end seemed far too happy to hear that Rei was okay, too. “Fu- I mean, erm, Amuro-san! You are alright, right?” That was what Rei liked about Kazami. Even though the agent never seemed to actually see Rei on their phone calls, he seemed to be perfectly able to sense when Rei’s presence got dangerous, and was always able to pursue the best possible way to avoid the worst outcome from Rei’s plans. Giving a hum of acknowledgement, Kazami seemed particularly happy. “Good. Erm, Kudou Shi-chi-un and Con-kun a- I are all fi-, we’ll be arr-ing at a police sta-n shortly- I’ve alr-dy called them to the scene-!”

So he still didn’t know that at least one of the two with him were disguised. But what was more interesting was that the sound quality was glitched, and Rei noted that just as he cut off the line without any warning. Kazami didn’t even have time to put up a protest before Conan continued to speak.

“That is proof right there… You understand what it means, don’t you, Bourbon-san?” The overuse of the codename both angered and pleased some part festering in Rei’s chest, but he didn’t say anything as he went on to think, and it didn’t take long for him to reach a conclusion. “...So our conversation is being leaked to someone, yes?” 

“Yeah,” Conan confirmed with a calm voice, contrasting to the solemn tone that the car space suddenly shifted into, just as Rei changed lanes to overtake the car in front of him. “I have a wireless wiretap, and my partner, currently kilometers away, is listening in to this little chit-chat we have.”

A partner? That was interesting, for sure, but for some reason- the mention sent a bit of a devastated and angered shiver down his spine, just as he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so… and that is supposed to make me answer your questions, Conan-kun?”

“Of course not.” The kid suddenly looked down, before bringing up a small box that Rei recognized instantly. “I’m sure you can see this through the rear mirror… you recognize what this is, right? A bomb. With just enough force to knock the both of us out, and leave us both bloody injured, but not enough to kill us. Even if you do manage to not faint, you’ll have trouble escaping around. And this- you must understand this, too. It's a little bug that gives a satellite signal to my partner, who, as soon as the signal stops moving, will send his subordinates to come and pick the both of us up. In fact, I suspect they may be already on the way.”

A six-year-old kid, bright as the light, gambling with his life and blood?

There was a stunned silence for a moment, before Rei continued on with narrowed eyes, just as the loudest heartbeat he’s ever hand pumped into his heart and he stared downwards, unsure of what had just happened- it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, for a second.

“...I see.” He asked slightly, trying to calm down his beating heart- Rei wasn’t sure which emotion he was feeling the most. Was it the anticipation of what to come next, the thrill of perhaps, finally, having an intellectual rival, or something akin to maybe fear , for a mere six-year-old elementary student? Not concentrating on driving but keeping his eyes steady in front of him, the image of a perfect citizen. “But aren’t you afraid that if we both go unconscious, then a car crash will occur?”

The smirk grew bigger. “We both understand that this forest is pretty out-of-the-way. Not a lot of cars around here, even right now… and I’m sure that a car crash wouldn’t be able to happen.”

Rei blinked, just as realization hit him. “You predicted this from the start… didn’t you.” It was less a question and more a statement, but the thought sent shivers down Rei’s spine, but it wasn’t painful, or frightening, or cold or anything like that- it was particularly pleasurable, and warm, and euphoric- all of these contradicting feelings made him rub at his eyes.

What did it all mean? Nothing like this had happened before. Was it good? Was it bad? In all honesty, never had an emotion come across him so strongly as this one, never mind the stampede of emotions currently rampaging over his chest.

When he didn’t receive an answer from Conan, Rei immediately disregarded it as confirming, and he blinked heavily, sweeping his sight of it all, and he asked the question of which the bitter taste was crowding this tongue. “Who are you, kid?” Though Rei knew, more than anyone else, exactly who he was0 he wanted to hear the words straight out of the kid’s mouth.

He knew it. He knew it from the start, from the moment that Vermouth brought a little kid to the cafe he had been working at, and how he recited Sherlock Holmes stories so incredibly fluently and solved the case without actually telling anyone else of his deduction. He knew from then on, that the kid, Fubuki- he was special. Special in the way that Rei was special as a kid, too. But so much more.

His chest was burning.

“I’m Edogawa Conan,” a small, childish voice sparked up from behind him, lightening up a spark that Rei didn’t even know existed in him. “A detective.”

That wasn’t it. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But why, but why, but why? Why was he following a no-good detective like Mouri Kogoro, whom, on days that he wandered into Poirot alone, during Conan’s schooltime, and he, as Rei, as Amuro, learned that he truly wasn’t worth anything? Why wasn’t he in the organization’s hands? Because anyone that the organization wanted, they could get, and-!

Calm. 

He closed his eyes for a second, using pure instinct to drive, and by the time he opened his eyes, revealing dull blue-grey orbs, he no longer felt like his lungs were on fire. He was Furuya Rei, NOC, agent at the PSB infiltrating the organization that has sent the dark belly of the world spiraling into chaos. And Furuya Rei wouldn’t get so overly emotional at such a thing- as he was a trained professional, tirelessly tested to ensure that he stayed calm under all circumstances.

Conan didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes drifted off away, but Rei latched onto a topic for them to talk about. “By your ‘partner’, I am assuming you asked that professor- what was his name, Hiroshi Agasa? The one at the party room murder, where he didn’t show up? You seem to trust him very much, Conan-kun.”

Pausing, as if stunned by the speculation, those sapphire eyes blinked, reflecting and catching Rei’s eyes in the mirror and those childish features simultaneously tightened and then relaxed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He said, making Rei feel an uncomfortable heartbeat that he wasn’t sure if he liked or not. “I wouldn’t hand the denoting button to the bomb to someone whom I know won’t be able to press it. I gave it to someone that I know, with absolute certainty, would do what is right above what is best for my personal safety.” A sad smile blossomed on his face, and it was one that caused Rei to blink.

“...I see.” Was all he said, but there was a small, unignorable spike of curiosity which bubbled up beneath his skin, but he felt as though he was more in control of the situation than the one currently threatening him was. Yet the next one to ask a question was Conan, defying that thought as soon as it came, and his voice was thrown in a shaky whisper. “Bourbon-san… Tell me about the Organization.”

“I can’t.” He replied bluntly, rolling his eyes to himself internally. “There are things I won’t tell you, even at the cost of my own life, Conan-kun. However,” he strained his voice so Conan would have to lean in closer to hear the rest, “I am willing to tell you a… certain something… if you answer one of my questions, too.”

Considering the offer, Conan clearly was thinking by putting a hand onto his chin as his sapphire eyes scanned up and down on Rei as if trying to gage if he was lying or not. Finally, after a few, jawbreaking moments, he spoke up again, child-like voice ringing out hard against the otherwise vast silence.

The kid pursed his lips. “Fine. But you tell me that ‘certain something’ first, and I’ll answer your question as well as you say your own. And I also want the right to be able to refuse a question.” A cunning deal, surely not one that a simple gradeschooler could summon. But then again, Rei was never a childrens person- how smart was an average six-year-old? No, how smart was a smart six-year-old? But the other members of the Detective Boys, save for the Haibara Ai girl when Conan disguised as her, never seemed to display the sheer amount of intelligence that the kid currently sitting behind him did.

Rei raised up an eyebrow. “And you will not lie?”

“I don’t know what kind of twisted perception you have of me… but I would never break a promise, Amuro-san.” Switching to the civilian name, he said, sapphire eyes sparking with glitters that spoke aloud on it's own, practically telling him that they held nothing but the truth, and despite Rei’s usual work- not believing in things such as this- he agreed. “Alright, then. Well… the truth is…”

He’ll say this, if only to get the gears turning in Conan’s head- and if the kid is as smart as Rei thinks he is, then he’ll figure it all out sooner or later, and with Rei’s help, it will be sooner. And it is his obligation to help out civilians of his Japan, as PSB, yes? An additive to this is that if he played his cards right, there is a good chance that he could find a way to manipulate Conan into being his cooperator.

But only if the kid was as smart as Rei believes so.

“...There’s a traitor amongst you, Conan-kun. A sneaky little rat, hiding in plain sight, delivering information after information to the innermost workings of the organization.” And Rei smiled at Conan’s shocked gaze, as the child lowered his head to think about exactly what Rei said.

He couldn’t trail the kid’s thoughts like he did anyone else- but that was half to be expected, because children had a far different mindset than most adults that Rei, as Bourbon, as Amuro, as all of the other identities- did. But he could see that evidently, the boy was thinking harshly, trying to tug on every possibility to find out exactly who Rei meant.

Before long, it seemed that Conan came to a conclusion and the kid looked up, and again Rei was taken away by the sheer intensity of those glittering sapphire eyes. They shouldn’t be so vibrant. They shouldn’t exist. Rei had half the mind, the Bourbon mind, to get rid of those eyes for good so that they couldn’t stare at him with such pure, justified emotions.

He didn’t deserve it. The man known as Furuya Rei had been swallowed up by the underworld too long ago.

Against his thoughts, Conan continued. “I don’t really... Amuro-san. Is the traitor you speak of Kaito-nii- I mean, Kuroba Kaito?” The boy looked at him, clearly hoping for either a perfect confirmation or a perfect denial, of which he might as well been thinking and distantly wishing for the latter. 

“Kuroba Kaito?” He echoed. A foreign name to his tongue- not one that Rei had ever recognized before. “No. That’s not the traitor’s name.” Seeing his hopes, Rei kind of wanted to crush them, and debated on telling a lie- before he said the truth, plain as day. Never before had he heard the name, but if they were suspicious in Conan’s eyes- it may be a good idea to carefully investigate them.

“...So you know who the traitor is.” Cautiously, Conan said, blinking despite the bomb still held tightly in his hands, that could detonate at any moment and cause serious harm to the both of them. And without warning, those bright blue eyes went out of focus, and his breath hitched. “Could it be…?” 

As if he couldn’t believe his own thoughts, the little boy started shaking, however slightly, but his back became hunched as his body fell downwards and he seemed deep in thought. “I did think something was weird when she… but… that person might be the traitor?” Hearing the word clearly sparked some form of paranoia into Conan, of which he quickly looked around, and then loosened a hand to check his clothing, flipping the fabric inside-out- like he suspected that he was being bugged.

“Conan-kun,” Rei called his name, and immediately the boy snapped up his neck to stare at him directly through the mirror and their eyes met, blue-grey to sapphire. “I do not know who you mean… but I am a little curious. How have you managed to change your voice?”

Cautiously, Conan looked at him, and it seemed that despite his shock he was still very self-aware of what he was being interrogated about. “Is this the question that you want to ask?” His eyes narrowed as if he already knew the answer, and Rei laughed.

“No, no. It's a little something that I’m just a bit curious about- you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but this kind of thing is quite easy, I’d imagine. Just get a voice changer.”

“...Agasa-hakase made this choker voice changer,” After a few moments, Conan mentioned, tapping on his knee like he was nervous, and it really was to be expected. The situation he was in- currently, the six-year-old kid (or was he six?) was playing a dangerous game of interrogation with a master at the particular game, where he was threatening freedom and his life in exchange for information. “You might have noticed that both Haibara and I wore turtlenecks… it's to cover it up. Now tell me your question.”

Decidedly, Rei thought to not say much to that- but noted the invention in his head, along with the name Hiroshi Agasa. Instead directly Conan’s attention to something else- his own question, and personally, Rei had two, but couldn’t even dare to ask both. Because he couldn’t risk more of the limited amount of the PSB’s information that he has gathered so far getting out. Not even to some weird little kid with a strangely bright mind. “Why, exactly, was your friend, Haibara Ai, being targeted by Vermouth?”

“I don’t know.” Conan diverted his eyes. So he did know why, the little liar, but as if recalling his earlier promise, he looked at Rei. “Nevermind. I refuse to answer this one, choose another.”

A smile sprawled on Rei’s face- he didn’t really expect the first question to be answered, and it would just be another of the many mysteries that he would solve in due time. But there was a more pressing matter on his hands as the words plopped out of his mouth, one by one. “Did you perhaps have amnesia, at one point?” And he carefully watched the little face behind him for a satisfactory answer.

Perhaps surprised by the question, the shock was evident on the kid’s little face, but the split moment of which his guard was down was quickly gone and he warily looked up, words careful as he spoke with bright blue eyes. “...Why are you asking?” He blinked, and Rei almost missed the intense color.

“Just curious…” Was what he was going to ask, but Conan continued on before he could say a word, voice suddenly pitching upwards like he was trying to suppress emotions of anticipation behind a cool mask. But the kid wasn’t good at it, excitement shining through clearly, past the shaky voice and the uneven breathing. 

“Bourbon-san… could it be that you knew who I was, before?”

So Rei was right. As usual.

A smile, cold and taunting but with concealed emotions just below the surface, that ensured that he was in control of the situation, crossed Rei’s face again as his gloved fingers tightened on the steering wheel and he pressed on the gas pedal beneath his foot to zoom quite a bit faster. “And if I say I did?”

“Then-!”

“That is enough.” A voice echoed through the other side of the box in Conan’s hands, the side of the bomb that was hidden from Rei’s view, and it was a deep voice- the voice of the person that Rei hated the most in the world and he was well aware of how his eyes sharpened and his thoughts became more merciless just as the sound of his voice. He couldn’t even say how many times the voice had participated in Rei’s nightmares, alongside watching Hiro die, again and again and over and over, and the worst of all was the incredible headache knowing that the bloody mess in front of him was his fault- and the supposed Ace of the FBI didn’t stop it- But why? Why was he here? Unless…

Rei emitted a dark presence, feeling his previously bottled-up rage spread, and spread and spread, and infestitate everything around until his vision was seeing red. He gritted his teeth, before he barely got out the words, “Conan-kun… by partner, you wouldn’t happen to have… him, as your partner, would you…?” He closed his eyes, drifting them to meet the little kid dead in the eyes.

Maybe his glare was more frightening than he intended, but Rei couldn’t help it at the anger currently bubbling up inside of him.

Furuya Rei always knew that he was an unstable person. On the outside, he could play any part- the reliable and effective law enforcement agent that he was on the core, or at least, told himself was on the core, the kind and gentle and approachable Amuro Tooru which welcomed kids with sunny smiles and made cute sandwiches and cakes for a living, the dark and nearly merciless organization member Bourbon- he was an unstable man with many faces. And therefore, being so, he never really knew what being himself meant.

Who knew who Furuya Rei truly was. When did the man known by his own name disappear? No, did he ever exist to begin with? But if there was one thing that was engraved into Rei’s mind and soul for good, it was the one rule to ruthlessly flash in his head, again and again: Never forgive Akai Shuichi for his sins.

Never.

Conan gulped, seemingly seeing how Rei’s face darkened by the second, and he stuttered as he continued to talk- but not to Rei, much to the latter’s anger. “I told you not to say anything unless it was a dire emergency!” He looked off, and then mumbled something that Rei couldn’t quite hear- something along the lines of “I wish these wiretaps could only be one-way” . Which means that they were specially designed ones that could broadcast voices both ways.

How very infuriatingly interesting.

“That was a dire emergency, boya. There’s some things you are much better off not knowing.” The voice of his nightmares said, but it quickly tightened as Akai Shuichi stopped speaking only to Conan and acknowledged a Rei that was about to explode. “Hello, Bourbon.”

“...Akai… Shuichi…!” He spat out, eyes sharpening like a knife at the sound of the name rolling off his tongue. “Why are you involved with this…?”

Curiously, Conan looked between them, but with an ounce of fear as he glanced at Rei- perhaps recognizing the deep aura of hatred surrounding him, but Rei couldn't care less as he suddenly stopped on the breaks, without warning, and a large screeching sound coming from the friction caused by the rubber of the tires broke into their ears. Rei hoped that Akai Shuichi liked that. Because if he had a choice, he’d do so much more of it for now. “Erm, do you two happen to know each other, or something…?”

There was a certain nervousness in his voice not present earlier. So he must have actually scared the kid- but the problem was that he may not even be a kid, not when he looked even younger than the time, six years ago, when Rei had seen the boy for the first time. The sudden thought crossed his mind and again, he forced his heart to calm down from its acceleration and he stared down at his hand before turning the wheel right. Was it related to Vermouth? How she hasn’t looked like she’s aged since she reached her twenties? A simple disguise couldn’t possibly cover everything up.

Immortality. But that was simply impossible. So what was going on?

“Indeed, boya. Do you know exactly why I am called the ‘FBI Agent that the Organization Fears Most’?” Instantly, hearing Akai’s voice brought the flame back into his chest, but he dumped mental water on it in an attempt to cool his head.

But Conan seemed oblivious, the fearless kid. “Hmm… Would it be that… No, not just skill-wise… Because the most powerful tool in a war would be information. Don’t tell me… you used to be in the organization too, Akai-san?” Correctly deducing, the boy said, looking down at the bomb in his hands without any evident scaredness and Rei didn’t know how to feel at the moment.

Rage-filled? Furious? Impressed? Hatred? All of those, none of those, and all the rest.

The truth was, Rei didn’t know what emotions were. Not when his were always so connected and jumbled-up, in all the worst ways.

“That is correct. I used to be an undercover agent there… My codename was Rye. And, due to unforeseen circumstances, a certain something happened during my time there, something that has caused… a rift, to hand, between Bourbon and I.” He said it with such nonchalance, as if he was merely flipping a page in a novel and not retelling the most painful moment in Rei’s life, and he didn’t know what to feel a his fingers tightened on the wheel and he pressed on the gas, branching off to a mainstream road.

“That’s an understatement,” bitterly, Rei grinded out, eyes dangerously narrow as he turned, and only when he somewhat glanced at the mirror on the side of the car, he saw exactly how terrifying his expression truly was. “Conan-kun, tell me where Akai Shuichi is.” The low warning in his voice may have been a factor, and it was clear that he recognized it, but the little kid only huffed up. 

He was aware of the gun, in his left pocket, more so than ever.

Shockingly enough, all fear seemed to evaporate as eyes met, and was replaced with only a burning determination that Rei didn’t want to recognize. “I’m not going to do that, Amuro-san.” The voice transmitter emitted the sound of a man drawing in a shaky breath, and it didn’t seem like Akai had to step in at all. “For this case, he and I are working together. And right now, he holds the button to detonate the bomb in his hands, and I would much rather go through this smoothly, so neither of us would have to get injured… You see, my small body won’t be able to take much strain.”

“Ahh. So is there anything else you particularly want to ask me, Conan-kun?” He bitterly grasped the child’s name, pressed harshly on the brakes and then on the gas pedal again and again to cause the kid to jump. “As I’ve said, however, there are certain things that I won’t say, even on my grave.”

Expecting his silence, Conan closed his eyes.

“...I also wanted to ask… What was the motive for you guys, hosting that party? And who exactly was the person behind the smiling-crying mask? The one who called himself the ‘host’?” At this point, it seemed like Akai was fine with just sitting back for the ride in the comfort of whatever space he was in, letting a six-year-old kid take the reins, and Rei hated him even more for that.

Dragging an ordinary civilian, a little child nonetheless- even if he was a particularly sharp child that may have lived far longer than he currently looked- in the war between NOC agents and the dark underbelly of the world was something that Rei would never do.

If he was the one in Akai’s situation, he would forbid Conan from taking this kind of risk at all. Why should a child have to carry these plans and investigations on his tiny shoulders? Especially the kids who think that they can do anything, rushing into danger, is a corpse magnet, and such.

And, as earlier, Akai interrupted just as Rei was going to reveal things about ‘Fubuki’, about ‘Kirsche’... which meant that Akai knew very well but was keeping it out of Conan’s reach. He wanted the kid to not doubt his allegiance and stay at least partially loyal to the FBI.

What a terrible man, manipulating a poor child like that.

Rei ‘tch’ed, eyes concentrating on driving despite his racing mind. “The motive? Well, don’t ask me… the target was supposed to be Sherry, one of our scientists- You don’t know her, do you?” He saw how Conan stiffened, albeit little, at the codename and it piqued his interest when the child laughed nervously, trying to feign innocence.

So the little boy was far more involved than he originally thought. What terrible parents must have picked him up after his amnesiatic event that Rei would have to look into more, that they would allow a kid, no matter how smart, that looked remotely childish into this entire mess. The fact that he didn’t seem to recognize that Rei was Bourbon, and that he seemed very skittish around both Vermouth and the name Gin, showed that he might have lost all of his memory. And for some strange reason, the boy was now against the organization, to the point with working with the FBI.

Which surely was a good thing, to not have him as an enemy- but if only he chose the PSB rather than the FBI to confide this kind of skill in… but then again, not many people know that the PSB even exists, so Rei couldn’t blame him. And it wasn’t even like the kid knew he was NOC, either.

“Anyways… for some interesting reason, Vermouth, during this mission to assassinate Sherry, decided to change targets to a little girl… your dear friend, Haibara Ai-chan, and so the party was planned out as an act to capture Haibara-chan for Vermouth.” His eyes wandered away from Conan’s considering face and continued on, aware of how the bomb looked more bright than before. “The one with the mask? That was Everclear. For some reason, they have always worn the mask, before then and now… and nobody knows who the face is, underneath.”

Conan blinked.  “‘Then and now’? So how long has this ‘Everclear’ been in the organization…?”

Crafty little kid, wasn’t he.

“Hmm… it's hard to say. Before I joined, for certain. But there was a lengthy period of time, when Everclear sort of… disappeared. Because nobody knows who they were, so nobody could track them down, either, but recently they had resurfaced.” Telling the truth, Rei kind of hated himself for telling all this extra information to Akai Shuichi of all people. He didn’t mind saying it to Conan, but something about this threat kind of ticked him off.

He should frame Conan for something and then falsely arrest him, then force the child into interrogation for Akai Shuichi’s whereabouts, so he could arrest the FBI dirtbag too. Japan was far too strong to have to be protected by a guy like that.

“Disappeared…? Why’s that…” But it seemed less like Conan was asking Rei, and more like he was wondering aloud to himself, as the kid carefully foiled with his fingers. With no more questions having to be answered, he leaned back, relaxing the shoulders that Rei didn’t know had tensed up over the course of this time.

Finally, it seemed like after their overly long drive, they reached a place close enough to see the city- and so it was time for Rei’s own makeshift plan to be put into motion. After all, if he didn’t escape now, surely the FBI would round him up for interrogation, regardless of what Conan could possibly say.

As if sensing the danger, the kid’s head shot up, and without the glasses those bright blue eyes widened and trailed down to the box in his hands, and bit his lip as he shouted at the little chip on the side of the box, “Akai-san, detonate the bomb, right now-!”

But it was too late. 

Before Akai could do anything, Rei crashed his car harshly into the railings on the side of the highway that weren’t there before when it was on the trip to the forests, and the impact caused the window to shatter. 

As Rei calculated, the sudden pressure forced the kid to hold on to his seatbelt and the chip was smashed before the boy’s voice completely got through. Akai was smart, however, and evidently decided to detonate the explosive, but Rei was faster. He grabbed the box from next to Conan’s feet, and before the kid could react, he threw the bomb far away out the shattered window.

In the distance, a loud sound came into place, and there left a smouldering pile of ashes where bushes and a few trees previously remained, and he heard Conan curse and smoothly blinked (that was some very adult vocabulary) as the kid bit his lip at his foiled plan, and then recognized what was about to happen and tried to get out of the car by unbuckling his seatbelt.

It didn’t work. Rei held a hand over his mouth and pressed harshly, relieving Conan of his air, and realizing his fading conscious Conan bit fiercely into his palm, against the dark fabric, and Rei barely flinched. The pain was nothing, not with the boy’s small teeth, but he could smell metal and crimson was dripping down onto the car.

Rei needed to clean his car soon, anyways.

Conan's consciousness disappeared entirely as he fainted due to lack of oxygen, and Rei was impressed on how well the six-year-old tried to hold onto his mind, but it slipped between his fingers as the boy sat limply in front of him. 

He could hear the sounds of screams behind him. Surely someone was calling the police, reporting the car crash… but his car was better than that, with a fake license plate that recorded a number not for Amuro Tooru but directly to the PSB, and he drove off into the distance.

Oh, it seemed like the night was finally arriving.

 

=

 

In all honesty, Conan really didn’t expect to be alive after all of that, and he even had a few fleeting thoughts of panic that he really was done for this time. 

Strangely enough, it seemed that after Amuro, Bourbon, had knocked him out, the tall man had just driven to the Mouri Detective Agency and handed Conan off to Kogoro and Ran, who seemed all too contrasting to see him. It seemed like both father and daughter didn’t expect Conan to be back before Saturday instead of Friday night, and Amuro had apparently lied as he said that the party ended earlier than expected and that Conan had fallen asleep in the car while Amuro was driving.

Ran had hesitatingly asked where Haibara and Shinichi were, and they arrived far later that night and it was lucky that Hattori left as quickly as he could, before Ran had figured out that it wasn’t really Kudou Shinichi standing in the office. The next morning, Conan immediately rushed to the professor’s home under the excuse of picking up his glasses, praying in his heart that nothing had happened to Haibara and Hattori, and to his relief both were fine on the couches, looking like they were waiting for him to come.

“Haibara!” Conan perked up, putting hands on the currently little girl’s shoulders, and his eyes brightened like the most vibrant of gems as the reassuring fingers brought some sense back into Haibara as she nearly fell into a smile, contradicting the harsh stare she emitted before. “The wound, from when you hit your head… it's healing well, right?” 

As if just remembering the pain, the girl touched the side of her head, where blood had been wrapped up finely by the long strips of bandages covering it, and she winced gently. “Yeah,” Haibara said. “It didn’t even hurt before you reminded me.”

“...I’m glad.”

And it was true, perfectly genuine, and something in his heart was relieved for saying it to her face.

She looked away, with an expression that may have meant embarrassment- but it was one of those faces that Conan couldn’t quite read, neither could he understand, and perhaps she read his confusion and stared at him with her turquoise eyes. 

“...It's just like you,” She said, putting a hand on his head like she was all that much older than him and ruffling his hair, “to turn a trap into an opportunity… That was dangerous, though. I don’t know who you think you are, Edogawa-kun. You are not the highschool detective idol, Kudou Shinichi. You are the elementary six-year-old detective wannabe right now, Edogawa Conan.”

Conan winced at the hard accusations.

His face scrunched up at her weird wording. “Yeah, I know, but...‘Highschool detective idol’?” Conan brought his hands up in the air to imitate quotation marks.

She rolled her eyes. “We all know it's true, Popular Tantei-san. Let’s not forget how your face graced the newspapers so often before… Well, when you got rolled into this fiasco.” As if to prove her point, Haibara went over to the table and grabbed the second newspaper from the top- and on the front cover was his own, highschool face, smiling confidently at the camera.

“Hmph.” Conan pouted. This entire child-thing really was making him become more like a child at heart- but exactly what he was like before the ‘accident’ happened, Conan didn’t know. And that man, Amuro Tooru, who might have decided to stop working at Cafe Poirot just a few blocks away, did know.

Maybe after the weekend, he’ll pay both Amuro and Akai a visit, since Akai seems keen on not wanting him to know something. That is, if the former is still there at Poirot, and the latter hasn’t moved back to the United States after the plan partnered up with Conan.

“But still… Even though we managed to get them off your tail this time, Haibara, that guy- Bourbon- Amuro Tooru, knows that I’m hiding you, and that Vermouth wants to capture you… Stay on your guard. And, this goes without saying,” He looked at her, stunning blue eyes meeting with turquoise ones that became nervous at the topic, “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

A cliche line. But that was fine. Because it was absolutely true.

But exactly how was he going to protect Haibara? He’ll have to brainstorm ploys and strategies for the worst situations when he gets home… rubbing at his eyes, it would mean after the Kid heist the night, and because today was a Saturday, there was a good chance he’ll be up all night at the heist, which was scheduled at midnight tonight, if Kid is as formidable as they say. 

So he’ll most likely have to sleep as soon as he gets back home. He’ll plan the next morning, then, and that is assuming that no trouble rises up… he might as well take the chance to visit Poirot, too, to see if Amuro was still there, even though the probability was low- but that man had proven himself to be dangerous and his mind was clearly wired differently that others were. 

And all of that was not taking into account the very possible corpse to show up sometime along the way… At least Hattori was staying for the weekend and perhaps more, so every case should be wrapped up less tiring than usual. Again, assuming that Hattori wouldn’t do something erratic, and that nothing… unusual things would happen along the way.

He really was getting paranoid, wasn’t he? Three corpses every week, at the very least, was per the usual, but there normally was a code to be solved to squeeze into his already packed hypothetical schedule… and Conan would be darned if he didn’t solve every mystery he comes across.

After all, he wouldn’t be able to call himself a detective.

A hand, waving in front of his eyes, sorely caught Conan’s attention as he blinked, fluttering his eyelashes free of his thoughts. “You’re thinking too much again.” Haibara stated flatly, even with the essence of a sigh, and she directed his attention to the other highschooler on the couch opposite of their own.

Hattori, who was waiting for him to finish up his conversation with Haibara, brightened up with a truly Osakan-like smile. “Oi, Kudou!” He said, but Conan noticed the little twinkle of nervousness and well-put relief he had in his eye. “Did ya plan sail smoothly?” Conan nodded, but stopped midway as he considered it. Has he really done well? The plan had worked, about as well as he thought it would, and he did get useful information out of it… However, the plan was supposed to end with Bourbon getting arrested. And the man escaped.

And for some reason, Conan was still alive after all that. But why?

He revealed him self to Bourbon- and so shouldn’t the perceptive man kill him, because he was a threat to the organization? Thinking about it too much strained his eyes, and Conan rubbed at the sapphire orbs, before Haibara expectedly gave the glasses to Conan and he put the familiar weight over the bridge of his nose.

“I guess so…” Conan trailed off. “Thank you, by the way, Hattori.”

Perhaps the genuine thanks stunned the Osakan, because the usually energetic detective was so surprised that he ceased all movements and then stared at him as if he suddenly turned into a frog. Not in a disgusted way, but in one that made Conan heavily doubt how good their friendship really was, especially when Hattori called him his “best friend” and was so shocked to receive gratitude.

“Ahaha,” Nervously, Hattori laughed, in a way that sounded very artificial and fake as the fidgeting suddenly came back with a vengeance and both Conan and Haibara stared at him strangely. Agasa wasn’t in the house, probably off in his room doing some sort of research again. “Yeah, no problem, erm, Kudou. If ya ever need me, ya do know ya can just call me.”

Curiously, Conan raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting all flustered for?”

Heiji’s eyes widened, even more.

“F-flustered? Me? nah, I-I’m fine, umn, anyways, I’m glad to see ya are o-okay…” Conan decided not to press and let out a breath of relief, admitting to himself the truth. “No kidding… I’m very glad for that too,” he joked, but in a way that felt kind of forced in his chest. 

Hattori might have found it funny though, and he laughed to a point where it sounded very normal to Conan’s ears, or perhaps he was glad that the subject had changed. Conan didn’t really understand exactly why, but it wasn’t like he was going to judge Hattori because of it. Not when the Osakan helped him so much.

But Conan’s attention wasn’t on that anymore, and he turned to face the scientist-turned-girl in front of him, who seemed to be watching their conversation with amusement, for some reason. Was it some sort of inside joke that occurred, during the time when Conan was dealing with Amuro, or Bourbon?

“Shinichi-kun?” The professor’s voice echoed from the side, interrupting Conan of all of his thoughts and he called back. “Coming, hakase!” 

Small footsteps wandered off into the other room, just as the other two, one a great highschool detective from Osaka, the other an engineer and chemist for a dark organization, and they exchanged a shaky look.

 

“Way to go, Mr. Charming.” With the last part in English, Haibara said, watching Heiji after Conan had left, and she sent Hattori a mysterious look that teetered on both amusement, protectiveness, and support. A cold moment paused between the two, as Hattori stared at the little girl in shock. 

“W-what do ya mean?” Cautiously, the Osakan asked, but his instinct told him that other teenager-turned-kid’s next words may have something to do with the pumping heartbeat or the heat rushing to his face- thankfully, his skin color wasn’t very pale (thank you so much, dear Oba-san) so most of the redness crowding his cheeks appeared to be unnoticed, even by Kudou’s observant gaze.

Again, Haibara rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms with a strange expression like she couldn’t believe he was asking. “As if I don’t know you have a crush on Kudou-kun. You couldn’t be more obvious. It's fine, though, I’ll allow it if it's you, unless someone better comes along.” 

Hattori, besides her, stopped listening to Haibara’s words after the first sentence and it was like he was simultaneously thunderstruck and then thrown off of a cliff and then frozen into ice chunks before he was hammered to pieces by a hammer and burned until his ashes were scattered to the winds.

It was a great while before he said anything, and Haibara looked at him with a look on her face that shifted subtly between several emotions before it finally landed on unimpressed. “W-wait… ya think I… have a crush… on Kudou!?” He exclaimed, pointing a finger when the entire thing processed through his head and the hard blush no longer dusting his cheeks but coloring his entire face felt like it was burning.

“Don’t try to hide it. Oh, wait,” Haibara raised a single eyebrow while looking at him as if he was a wonderful research subject for human emotions right now. “Don’t tell me you haven’t realized it yourself, yet?”

Maybe the stare on his face gave it away, as the little girl gave off a hearty sigh.

At last, Hattori realized that he might be looking like a gaping dummy and collected himself, closing his jaw and blinking to shrink his shocked, wide eyes, just as Haibara continued. “Well, it's fine. Kudou-kun has a lot of admirers; surely some that have actually confessed or love him more than you do, Hattori-kun. I guess I’ll just hand him off to them then-!”

But before she finished, and before Hattori really knew what he was doing, he held onto the girl’s shoulders with desperation and shook her about as lightly as he treated everyone else he knew- which is, to say in the most basic terms, horribly roughly. 

“Y-ya c-can’t!” The stuttering voice before reinforced but shook like an earthquake as he felt his heart driving crazily with a foreign emotion that Hattori didn’t really recognize, but there was something in his chest demanding him to do so. But to the Osakan’s surprise, the little girl merely looked at him with a face that said, “I told you so”.

The smirk grew larger. “I wasn’t actually going to. As if ninety percent of the boys and girls that confess him love him for who he really is- and, yes, don’t look at me with those eyes,” She had to interrupt her words at the resemblance that Hattori currently had to a sad, wailing puppy, “ Both boys and girls confessed to him every day at school. You have no idea; I barely passed him on the streets in a car once, and I saw a crowd go up to him and bow with a love letter in hand.”

The story both surprised and didn’t surprise, Hattori, who was still trying to come clean with his feelings- “S-so, wait…” he said with a voice several lightyears softer than usual, grainy with his accent but like pebbles, skimming across water, “Ya’re telling me… that this feelin’ in my chest… this is love?”

Haibara gave him the most unimpressed look that he ever had to receive. “Yeah, duh.”

Hattori blinked, before his head shot up in realization. “But… if ya’re telling me this… does it mean ya want me to end up with Kudou?”

“Mn.” Haibara barely acknowledged, and in the few moments that Hattori’s head was down apparently she grabbed one of the newspapers and began to read through it, small fingers barely trailing over some of the letters. “Yeah… I’m on board with Team Hattori for now. You have my support in your pursuit of Kudou-kun… especially because you also…”

She trailed off, but the Osakan highschool detective knew exactly what she meant- to throw her out of the line of fire, even if she got injured in the process, and after, when Hattori, along with that Hida guy took Haibara and saved her on a hitchhiking car, as per Kudou’s words. Even though Hattori already knew that Kudou was at the top of his game when it came to wits, he couldn’t help but feel like Kudou was far too smart- beyond the levels a regular human being should be able to have.

He planned things out. Foresaw the events, exactly how they played out, and acted accordingly. And Hattori knew why Kudou chose to use his own face at the party, even though he should be dead by the administration of the drug- he simply wanted to protect everyone else.

Kudou needed an ally to look after Haibara Ai during the dangerous phases at the party. And because of that, Hattori was enlisted because he happened to be there, and as per his request, Kudou’s mom, Yukiko, disguised the Osakan in a perfect version of Kudou- but the eyes were not perfect. Not even the famous actress herself had a pair of lenses blue enough to be passable, but it worked out.

The reason why that Kudou chose to use his own face, which is presumably dead, rather than letting Hattori use his face- it was because Kudou refused to let the bad guys know that Hattori was actually involved in the battle, and there was no other person that Kudou thought was alright to throw under the bus… besides himself.

In a sense, Kudou was protecting Hattori, and for some reason- the thought brought a flutter to his stomach.

Oh no. He really was in love, wasn’t he?

“Well, because I’m on board with you, Hattori-kun,” The girl’s voice snapped him out of his train of thought and he stared at Haibara, who just looked at him strangely. “I’ll arrange for you to spend the afternoon with him. Besides, Kudou-kun has nothing to do this afternoon, and the two of you are going to the Kid heist tonight, aren’t you?”

“The what?” Hattori repeated. “Oh. Ya right. The heist… yeah.”

Haibara’s expression became even more flat, as if she couldn’t believe that this was who she was helping get together with Kudou. She rubbed at her temples, before she sighed, and then Hattori jumped when he realized exactly what she said.

“Wait. What do ya mean by ‘arrange’!?”

 

==

 

It turns out, “arrange” meant for Kudou to be convinced by unconventional means into the kitchen with Hattori, as the little demon of a girl said so very calmly about the two of them should bake something together. Cookies, perhaps, or cupcakes? She even said it was up to them. But just as long as they did it together, and that the end product tasted good enough for her to give to the Detective Boys the next Monday.

“So…” Hattori started, fighting his own blush while carefully watching the detective-turned-kid who was looking deeply annoyed but distant behind him, and saying the word seemed to bring the boy back into his senses as he turned to listen to Hattori. “What do ya wanna make?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only baked with my mother on Mother’s Day,” Kudou rubbed his eyes, wincing as if it was a bad memory, and judging how his eyes instantly wandered over to the oven, Hattori accurately guessed that it may have had something to do with setting the kitchen on fire.

Imagining a young Kudou reaching out to his mom, and then accidentally turning it on too high and the two of them having to leave the house while Kudou clinged onto his mom’s back- ahh, the image was too cute and too tooth-rotting. He chuckled aloud at the thought and Kudou sent him a curious look, of which Hattori said nothing about.

In all honesty, Hattori hasn’t fully come to terms with his feelings. He was so sure before that the rush of emotions he felt towards the other was merely a high form of friendship… but friends aren’t supposed to make people feel like they have butterflies in their stomach, right? Nor were they supposed to make you fall into daydreams and think about visiting them every single weekend?

“Alrighty then,” Hattori blinked, taking out the flour and bringing out the single recipe book present and flipped to the page written as Chocolate Chips Cookies, and tapping approvingly on the flavor. “It’s decided, we’re making cookies, okay?”

“S-ure,” Kudou said in syllables, struggling to get the apron around his slightly smaller body. Hattori already had his own, but the little boy was terribly pouty but clearly trying to resist doing anything so childish while trying to tie the straps at the back together in a tie.

Hattori rolled his eyes, and then playfully went over before crouching down and tied it together for him, of which the little boy looked up at him defiantly, as if unsure if he should be thanking him or hitting him for helping. At last, he decided on neither and just walked over to bring a stool to grab the eggs from the fridge.

While he let the kid do that, Hattori found the egg beater and a large bowl, before he looked around for the baking soda and the salt as according to the recipe book, but why would they need salt for cookies? Weird. He did it anyway and then took out the butter, white and brown sugars, along with the vanilla extract and-!

“Oi, Kudou…” The Osakan said after a few moments as the kid in question was heating the oven, he turned to meet the highschooler-turned-child in the eyes, and Hattori gulped, feeling like he knew the answer. “Where’s the chocolate chips…? I can’t find ‘em.”

His fingers weaved through the pantry as he stuck his nose into a pile of dust that clearly had been uncleaned for a while and sneezed, and Kudou laughed childishly behind him. But to his surprise, the kiddush face showed him a large smile. “They’re here, behind the kitchen utensils- Haibara didn’t want Agasa-hakase to eat them anymore so she hid them.” There was a certain cheeky way of which the boy grinned that made him seem almost like he was a real six-year-old.

“AHA,” From the other room, the professor’s voice came, all too delighted with himself as he seemed to have found the secret to a treasure map or something, “THAT’S WHERE SHE HID THEM!”

Realizing that the professor in question heard exactly what he said, Kudou bellowed out a hearty laugh, before he teasingly shouted back to the other room. “Ahh, Agasa-hakase! Don’t tell her that I’m the one who revealed it to you!” It was followed by another laugh of the professor’s as he sneezed off into the distance. “And don’t worry, we’ll share some cookies with you when you’re done with your new invention!”

“Thanks, Shinichi-kun!” The voice echoed.

Hattori found himself smiling at the exchange, before the kid turned with an offtune hum on his lips as he took the butter and put it in the microwave for just a few dozen seconds, and while that was happening, Hattori cracked the egg underneath Kudou’s watchful eagle eyes.

“Oi, Hattori!” Kudou scolded, seemingly relieved of stress into a carefree look as he spun around, accusing sweetly and childishly. “You dropped the egg shells in!” He pointed at the large globs of white, sitting in the puzzle of otherwise perfect transparent and orange mixture.

Hattori raised a single eyebrow in challenge. “I couldn’t help you, ya moron! What, ya’re so good at this kinda thing, then!?” He motioned for Kudou to take over while he did the butter and the flour.

“Better than you, at least!” Kudou announced, but to Hattori’s world-crashing shock- the little kid skillfully cracked the eggs without any of the disgusting shells getting in and then proceeded to grab the manual egg-beater and swirled it around until the resulting mixture was one of slightly lighter color than the orange of the yolk before. Hattori stared down at it, before looking up in disbelief. “I can’t believe it, Mr. Perfect’s reign extends to even this!?”

Kudou rolled his eyes sarcastically. “ Barou, a perfect person doesn’t exist. I picked up this skill when I had to live by myself while my parents were out in the world. Not that I’m any good at cooking, I only know how to do the most basic steps.” He said, as the little kid hands took a tissue and wiped.

It turned out, that ended up being a total lie, and Kudou was extremely good at almost every part of baking, from how to knead the dough to in which way to add the vanilla extract and the chocolate chips, leaving Hattori in a gaping state, watching the boy move around the kitchen so naturally. 

But when Hattori offered for the boy to make lunch for them, too, there was a fleeting moment of panic, combined with a startled “No, I’m not cooking! You trust my grubby six-year-old hands with a knife?” that made him sigh. He’ll get Kudou to cook something for him eventually to see exactly what it was that made him so distant from doing cooking.

In the end, though- there was only one part of baking these chocolate chip cookies that Kudou wasn’t good at. Apparently, it was how to use the oven, and that was Hattori’s job- and oops, he accidentally forgot about them later on due to deciding to go exchange mystery novels with each other, and Kudou also somehow misread the temperature on the recipe page by twenty degrees.

“Oops, I think I forgot about them when we went to go read the books,” Hattori said as he noticed, turning down the oven. “Oi, Kudou, are the cookies supposed to look black?”

“Black?” The child's voice echoed, face scrunching up in puzzlement at the description and the boy walked over, and looked down at the tray of pitch-black sweet dough. “What the-? Hattori, of course they’re not supposed to look like this! These cookies are literally held-together ashes!”

All that effort, for burnt cookies, was even okay in Hattori’s books, even though he was annoyed to say the least when he first saw them. However, once he took the first bite, it felt like the smoked cooking tasted about as sweet as regular cookies, yet a little bit more charry- that was fine, though. Handmade cookies did taste pretty good, even though Kudou stared at their creation uncomfortably, as if it was the worst thing to exist in the world, before he shoved some crumbs into his mouth and his eyes widened in surprise.

But when the two of them enthusiastically offered some to Haibara and Agasa, both refused- though the professor seemed tempted to take a bite but the girl had ordered him not to. After all, burnt foods were bad for his health, and both Kudou and Hattori laughed sheepishly at that, knowing she was right.

In the end, they had to throw the cookies out- darn it, what a total waste of food!

But the day had gone by in the blink of an eye, and it was already approaching night time when Hattori and Kudou decided to finish up with their works and Ran and Kogoro and Sonoko were picking them up, with Kogoro and Hattori sitting in the front of the car while the onee-san and the rich girl were in the back, currently squishing Kudou who was between them.

It seemed like it was time to attend a Kid Heist. Apparently, the Sonoko girl was a huge fan of Kid, too, so Hattori will be extremely interested to see exactly who this “Kaitou Kid” was, and if he really was worthy of all those flashy titles that he was given, like Kudou is, or is just some wanna-be Lupin that jumped around, stealing gems, and that it so happened that in Ekoda, the police were incompetent, or something.

But his instincts, the instincts that really were rarely ever wrong- told him that he had already met Kid before, somewhere. Hmm. How very strange- it might just be his senses were going haywire because of the explosions that happened at that party.

Nobody could blame Hattori for being a bit tired. Throwing two kids onto the side of the hill had already been a huge consumer of his energy, but he’s really feeling it now, almost brain-dead as he watched the scenery go by with no particular meaning in his brain.

Though Kudou must be the one who’s really tired, because he fell asleep in Ran’s lap on the car, and again, Hattori’s heart both convulsed as he considered exactly how Kudou and the onee-san weren’t lovers yet. They held hands, blushed for each other, and so on! Kudou was definitely a dunce, even more so than Hattori is about love, but he’s not that oblivious, right?

Right? Probably, though he has ignored the multitudes of fan letters he gets every day. Hattori definitely did not miss the mailbox stuffed full of envelopes in pink when he first came to Tokyo to challenge Kudou to a battle of wits and deduction… Only now does Hattori really see how foolish and immature he was, back then. As quoted from the “Perfect” Detective himself: “In detective work, there’s no winning or losing, because there’s one and only one truth.” 

He really did pride himself on his unwavering sense of justice, and that was one of the things that Hattori respected about Kudou the most.

Hattori stretched, just as the car pulled over as they arrived at the scene, and they exited the car and the door closed with a loud clash. The Osakan rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes to clear his mind of all unnecessary and tired thoughts, as he looked forward with a staggering green. 

The afternoon was a relaxing experience for Hattori, for sure, but it was time to get his head back into deduction gear and wake up the brat sleeping peacefully behind him, because the Great Detectives of the East and West had a thief to catch.

Notes:

This is the fastest update I've ever had, and I'm so proud of it- 10,000 words in two days! A particular commenter/reader of this story told me things and supported me enough so that I got too overexcited to write and this ended up becoming the result of that.

Amuro's such an interesting character to write... Perhaps it's because in my eyes, he's definitely unstable, and he's going to snap one of these days under the stress of knowing that he is the reason that his friend died, that he in in an organization that could kill him at any moment should they find out who he is, and that Akai Shuichi is out there, enjoying his life while Amuro was suffering. Yeah, he's a bit wonky in my writing, but that's what makes it fun.

Originally, a part of Kid's heist was going to be here, too, but it didn't make it in because I'm taking the next week to consider how to make his heist before I write it. The HeiShin (HeiCon?) moments were maybe the cutest and fluffiest thing I've written in this story so far and I feel bad to say that it was shoved in there because I wanted to put off writing Kid's heist.

Plot reveals? That is my things! And funny how out of all the characters, the first to actually state that they realize that they have a crush on Shinichi is Heiji. And one supporter for Team Hattori! Let's go Haibara!

Anyways, I'm going to sleep now- my brain feels like I've been drowsy for the past two hours but I've drilled through it to continue writing because I was so excited that I knew I was close to finishing. As always, please tell me in the comments if I made a mistake because I have no beta, and I appreciate all hits, kudos, and especially comments! Bye!

Chapter 12: V Part II

Notes:

warning: descriptions of blood, death/corpses, nightmares, and unhealthy/possessive mindsets

i apologize in advance for the horrible writing.

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

Chapter Text

Chapter V Part II

 

Bourbon closed his eyes. 

And then opened them, welcoming his gaze towards the night sky above and the scent of smoke lingering in the air.

His hands, covered over with white gloves, hungered for something to do. Still, he kept them tucked well in his pocket as across from him stood a few of the most dangerous people in the organization, dangerously shuffling around in waiting. 

Gin, long, silver hair, falling under his hat, was the one sitting closest to the exit- how strange. He didn’t usually smoke. Next to him was lackey Vodka, eyes hidden behind dark shades, even in the midst of the night. Next to the two sast Vermouth in a well-rounded chair as she twirled her hair impatiently, turquoise eyes looking up and shuffling to Gin in disgust.

They all have been waiting in this secluded corner of the world for quite a while now- and if it wasn’t for that the black-haired announcer wasn’t here yet, the meeting would have ended in nothing but an instant. The atmospheric mood around wasn’t one that Bourbon quite liked, either- but it was one that he lived in, he breathed in, he sheltered in.

Just as that thought settled down into Bourbon’s fragmented mind, a knock came on the iron wall next to the structure Gin was leaning on, and Kir made her way down the road, looking a cross between sternly apologetic and furiously aggravated. “Hello.”

There was a pause, as if the group had nothing to say, before sharp green eyes stared down at the reporter with a coldness that could chill a room.

“Kir.” The silver-haired man took a second to say, breathing the gas out of his mouth as he crushed the cigarette in between his gloved fingers and tucked it away in his pocket, stretching his neck to look at the dark-haired announcer in a way that would make anyone less tremble. “Don’t be late next time.”

There was that look- a look on her face that made Kir seem less the cutthroat, non-hesitating reconnaissance shooter that she was, and more like the sweet and easygoing announcer Mizunashi Rena that she held in spite of herself. Like Bourbon, she seemed divided between roles- sometimes she had a dreamy look on her face, sad despite nothing happening, and other times there was the look of a ferocious lion in her gleaming eyes as she shot people to crimson death.

In all honesty, Bourbon has the suspicion that she is NOC for a gracious while now, but so far it's been unfounded. Sheer instinct alone isn’t something that he could judge just anyone with, but Bourbon still watched her every move with utmost tension. If she, in fact, was NOC- then there might be some trouble on his hands that he would really prefer to rid himself of.

It could be fun, though. Especially if Kir turned out to be an NOC for the FBI… then Akai Shuichi… his death could be achieved, so very quickly. Aware of the bloodcurdling smile blooming like a rose on his lips, Bourbon forced it down, blinking innocently to wash away the sins.

“Apologies, the producer wanted to tell me something.” She shook her head briefly, sighing as she combed up her hair in a careless manner. 

Gin “tch”ed, as Vermouth stared at Kir with a strange look on her face that was nearly unreadable to the human eye. “Do make yourself some room next time we have a meeting, Kir,” she reminded more gently than Gin- except only the words sounded caring. Her voice was a toxic one, cold and chilly, as she looked at her nails and inspected them closely. 

Kir nodded.

Now that an uncomfortable silence settled between the group, Gin decided to speak up with the taste of disdain leaking in his voice, as the mere sound of the icy tone was enough to draw everyone’s attention to his colourless, uncaring eyes.

“...Rum… has been concerned about… rats infesting our organization recently.” Everyone paused, seemingly waiting for elaboration as Bourbon tensed with the words. Gin’s eyes narrowed, before he continued with a manic grin on his face that would send chills down nearly anyone’s spine. “Therefore, they want us to… flood out the rats… and make a dozen loads of cash, all at the same time.”

That feels wrong, Furuya Rei said, in the absence of his mind. The warning went unheard- nobody was there to listen.

Vermouth’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of money, before she chuckled deeply despite her usually sweet voice and narrowed her eyes, while Kir looked straight forward with a lack of expression. Vodka nodded, not a word to be said, as he seemed to be informed of everything beforehand.

For the first time that night, Bourbon spoke up, nodding despite himself, letting his personality sink in with the characterization of who Bourbon truly was. A gloved hand rose up as he felt meaningless words come out of his mouth without being fully aware of his own voice speaking. Everything was like a dream, a nightmare, an illusion… “...And how does Rum expect us to do that?”

His voice sounded genuinely curious, yet cautious like Bourbon must be, and almost convinced himself that he truly was an instrument to carry out the orders of the Black Organization. Maybe he was. It was hard to tell- the line blurred between all of his faces, all too quickly.

An eerie scream came from the distance, not one that he recognized- perhaps it wasn’t even a real scream and just a figure of his own imagination, but it made Bourbon stare more concentratedly nonetheless. He met eyes with a horrid sight that may give even the most brave of humans nightmares- a blood curdling grin that sent goosebumps, though he didn’t show it. As the smile on Gin’s face only got bigger, the bitter words that came out of his mouth seemed more bloodthirsty than ever.

Like his hands were still soaked with blood.

“We’re going to get our hands on the PSB’s NOC list.” 

And the look in Gin’s eyes, as he whirled himself to look at Bourbon calculatingly, sent chills down the side of his bones.

 

Without a droplet of sleep, Amuro tumbled to the front of Cafe Poirot, drearily rubbing at his own eye as he bitterly forced a smile on his face. This tight schedule… it was of no matter, but getting no rest does take a toll on the human’s mind- and he was only human.

Bourbon faced horrors until morning. And then embraced them, danced with those revulsions, and eventually acted like he was enforcing the act of draining rats out of the organization. And then Furuya Rei took over, the compulsively serious figure that wrote reports and weaved potential plans together for the higher-ups to see. Then it was already early morning- no time to waste, and no time to rest as he collected himself to run straight to Poirot.

The night was cold. Was chilly, and nothing really did warm him up.

Amuro pressed on the door gently, before fishing out a key and inserting it into the keyhole, before twisting it and readied himself for a fresh new day. Not as Bourbon, not as Furuya Rei- as Amuro Tooru, the sunny and kind waiter that smiled while dishing out his sandwiches. The lettuce had to be prepared so delicately, the bread a natural grain one, the mayonnaise spread nicely and tomatoes cut in those exact, round shapes. Another day, being-!

“...Amuro-nii-chan...?”

He froze. As if not recognizing his own name, or alias, though just repeating his mantra, and turned around slowly for the little kid to unexpectedly be standing behind him, with a curious gleam in his blue eyes. But something was clearly not right- his entire self seemed to be bandaged, one way or another, all but his face. It wrapped around his hands, around his arms, around his legs and feet… Not to mention the way his voice came out raspy, not like the child he looked to be, and how he limped just slightly.

Someone had ruffled this kid up. And Amuro didn’t know how he felt towards it.

No, he did know, but all too clearly- Furuya Rei is overjoyed at the amount of clear wounds; wants to pull out a gun and shoot a bullet into the kid in the head already, for being that child from so long ago, and rid Japan of danger. Amuro was sad, wanting to heal those exact wounds, from being the private detective that worked together closely for one case, to wanting to protect from danger. Bourbon… Bourbon was conflicted. He desired for who “Edogawa Conan” used to be- and still is, surely, underneath that layer of cunning sunshine and rainbows. Kirsche had to be down there, somewhere, and Bourbon… he wanted to be the hand to grasp the smaller, and pull him out of the darkness.

Amuro smiled. As peacefully as he could, gently stepping away from the door and the bell lingered just a bit as he heard words, melodic and kind and not the others, come out Amuro’s mouth. “Conan-kun…”

But what came out wasn’t a kindly voice, like he thought he heard the echo of. It was the voice of a monster, split between its faces.

Was it the stress? It must have been, because Amuro Tooru has never heard himself sound so hollow before, and he quickly collected himself upon seeing the shadowed face of Conan whose eyes widened just a bit and the raspy sound. The waiter blinked, until his face melted from whatever dangerously pained it was before, to a softer look, more fitting for Amuro, and his voice finally came out right. “What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms.

Perhaps he changed it quick enough for Conan to catch, but the child must have thought something because his tone came out as a sheepish laugh. “Ah… erm, I’m actually here because Kogoro-ouji-san needs toilet paper, and Ran-nee-chan’s off with karate practice…” Embarrassed, or maybe nervous, he rubbed at his arm and seemed to flinch upon hitting a certain piece of his skin.

Troubling brat, Bourbon said, but not out loud, thankfully. Amuro ignored it all, carefully leaning forward with something akin to empathy. “Are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Conan said, but that little liar wasn’t going to get away so easily. Clearly, he was not alright, and he stepped closer and closer until he towered over Conan and took the obviously hurt arm into his hands. The boy flinched, shivering as gently, Amuro cradled the limb and pulled up the sleeve. 

“Wait, Amuro-nii-chan-!”

It was horrid. Bandaged in a long, white strip, and scarlet blood was soaking despite it seemingly to be semi-dry. And Amuro didn’t know what the look on his face was, but restrained it as quickly as it came, and he let go of Conan’s arm quickly, apologizing with a smile that felt more forced than usual.

“...Amuro-nii-chan! Why’d you-!”

“Conan-kun.” Definitely, Amuro cut off with the look relative to what Bourbon must look like all day, in a quiet whisper that seemed far too fatal to listen for too long. Maybe something was coming out, because he was aware of the small smile threatening to spill onto his face. “What happened?” He reached to tap on the wound, humorly watching the boy recoil at his touch.

Carefully, the boy looked up with narrowed sapphire eyes, as if cautious of what he was going to say. Like he sensed something. But then his eyes swept down and he sighed, shaking his head. “...It’s nothing. Just… the cunning work of a thief.”

“A thief?” Amuro echoed, running through the newspapers in his head- before he landed on a specific title that surely encouraged a shadow to cross his face. “...Kaitou 1412?” He questioned, quickly staring intimidatingly at the boy in an attempt to scare an answer out. Of course, the boy who had paired up with Akai Shuichi of all people wasn’t going to cave that easily.

Instead, Conan grinned sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I said no…?”

 

 

It sat on the pedestal, hanging in a crystal box overhead of the crowd, wrapped in the most meticulously crafted platinum strings that sufficiently supported it finely. A crimson ruby, called the Lady’s Caressful Wishes, gently swinging in the peace of the warm breeze, surrounded by the gaze of everyone. In the fine light of the moon, gently swaying its soft, golden glow in the sky, the scarlet gem seemed to even glow in a bloodlusting color.

Sonoko, being the proud second heir of the Suzuki Cooperation, had gotten them the most well-off spot of the entire heist where they watched from a building extremely close by that could even see the box close up. In all honesty, Heiji wondered if it was a good plan or not. Except for the fact that the box looked like it might fall from the sky any millisecond, it was a solid defense mechanism that was cleverly designed. But unlike Kudou, Heiji wasn’t doubting that the phantom thief was at least capable enough to put up a fight.

Maybe it had something to do with the sheer amount of papers that this thief appears in every time he makes an appearance. Maybe it had something to do with the faith that Kuroba seemed to have towards Kid. Or it could just be that after Kudou and his unsettlingly child-like appearance, Heiji doesn’t want to underestimate anyone ever again.

“Oi, Kudou,” Heiji whispered to the kidly figure next to him as Conan looked up. “Ya think that this set-up ‘ill work?” He pointed at the skybox with a raised brow, scanning his watch in the meanwhile- quickly approaching midnight. Kid should arrive soon.

To initiate the conversation, Heiji had spoken, and pulled at the handcuff he prepared, twirling it between his fingers. Hooded eyes stared at the metal cuffs for a second, before Heiji tucked it back into his pocket.

The highschool spirit trapped in the child’s body sighed, rubbing at his temples before sending Heiji a look of tiredness, as if he had just gone through a nightmare. Finally, he spoke up, with a limited tone. “Honestly, if he’s as good as they say… Kid should get through this defense with no problem. There’s several flaws; but when I tried to talk to that one Inspector earlier, he didn’t want to listen.” Looking away, he was obviously tired of always being treated as a child, and perhaps Heiji being there was his one comfort to be talked to like an intellectual.

For some reason, the thought brought a happy tone into his chest. Heiji gulped, the little onee-san’s words echoing in his mind as he smiled in spite of himself.

Conan gave him a strange look. And then he shuffled back, leaning into his child chair as Heiji had seen enough and raised the kid out of the chair and into his arms. “C’mon, Kudou. Ya know that they’re only like this right now- just prove yerself like ya always do, ya moron.”

Perhaps being called a moron brought Conan back into his senses, because the kid immediately bounced up. “Moron?” He echoed fiercely. It seemed like nobody ever called him that before, and the dense-as-a-rock child surely didn’t know how to respond. And after a second, a brilliant blush bloomed onto Conan’s face. “You’re the dummy, Hattori! What kind of image of ‘lonely and sad, mopey Conan’ do you have in your head!?”

Clearly, he was embarrassed by the idea of feeling lonely despite being surrounded by so many people. But also embraced the idea, feeling it penetrate his soul as Conan realized just how alone “Edogawa Conan” truly was in this new world. Nobody understood him, nobody took him seriously, and-!

“Just that ya’re feelin’ down ‘cause nobody treats ya as Kudou Shinichi, don’t become some random jerk, aho. They’re all thinking of ya like yer really the six-year-old Edogawa Conan that knows nothin’. Listen, I’m here and I know ya, alright?” 

Immediately, Conan’s head shot up, and the doubts he seemed to have about himself seemed to disappear at a moment’s notice. Heiji gave a great big supporting grin and it was a while before Conan, in his arms, hugged him back. And being the total Tsundere he was, Heiji knew that this was already a level of physical affection that not everyone has.

It's what Heiji likes about Kudou that he admits when he’s wrong, and it was a while before Conan said words back. “...Thanks.” 

He said quietly, in a chastised voice like a real child’s, and Heiji really hoped that it wasn’t what he thought it was that his chest burned so fondly for the little boy in front of him.

Boom!

A beautiful flower of color shot up into the night sky, illuminating past all darkness and Heiji’s green eyes widened, taking the image in.

The supportive moment was all gone as fireworks were launched into the sky and both Heiji and Conan were detectives first and foremost. Instantly, Heiji set the boy down as a second set of fireworks graced the sky with red and blue and white, before two large cards launched themselves into the sky and cut right on the edges of the crystal box, still levitating in the sky. It didn’t cut through, thankfully, but the box is shaking in the air now and Heiji could see Conan’s eyes darting around- not for the bright box above, or the gem, but for whomever must be Kid, throwing all those spectacles into the air.

The cuts were extruding on the sides, slim and neat, but nothing of concern until a loud speaker sent chills through the air, a distraction of a loud and sudden drum bash, until it left most in the crowd looking left and right against the trees.

There was no identification before a smoke bomb, large and spread out, appeared out of what seemed to be thin air and with a flash of white- the glider? And when it dissipated-!

The Lady’s Caressful Wishes, the precious ruby, was gone. Along with the crystal box that used to hang in the sky, Heiji could hear Conan say words bordering on curse words beneath his breath, and something along the lines of “ I warned them that this might happen” before the boy charged away. It was clear that he was looking for the gem- Heiji, instead, was looking for Kid.

Even though they should be in the same place, logically, both Conan and Heiji knew that they were far different in placement right now. And the first to make it to the gem would be the winner of the bout.

As written in an article that Heiji miraculously had the patience to read, Kid’s equipment would definitely allow him to pull off this simple trick that may fool cameramen and those unaware. And if he looked around, the one running towards the building opposite of the park was the one who had to be Kid, wanting to get his hands on the gem first and call it a triumphant victory.

But that was too bad. Heiji was not going to let that happen!

And neither was Conan, apparently.

Quickly, he spotted a figure in black charging at distant speeds and Heiji ran down the stairs and flipped past handrails to catch up. Kid truly was a worthy adversary, at least physically-wise, and he must have done some research to pull this off- but Heiji knew this park like the back of his hand. It was the one that Kazuha liked going to, when she could afford to leave Osaka, and he knew exactly how to cross the waves of people without getting trampled over.

Triumphantly, with a burst of random pride of Kazuha, Heiji cut to the chase and ran straight to the building. It came as a huge shocker to see that Kid had evidently been here first, and so immediately he charged up the stairs until he saw a figure cloaked in black and reached out- grabbing the corner of the fabric, twirling it in his hands until the person was forced to stop dead in his tracks.

It might have just been a trick of the dimness of the light, but Heiji could have sworn that Kid’s eyes widened when he saw him.

And then it was gone, and Heiji blinked in confusion before refocusing on the matter at hand and stood strong, waiting for Kid to make the first move as words quickly slipped out of the former’s mouth. “I’ve caught’cha, Kaitou Kid-san…”

“...Another detective?” Was what Kid said, pulling his arm, but Heiji didn’t let go so easily as he smiled with a feral laugh, nodding in agreement and confirmation. But it was concerning how his voice sounded strangely familiar, as if Heiji had heard it well in the past before… he rubbed at his eyes gently, shaking the sounds away, much to the strange look from Kid.

They were in close proximity but the lights around were too dark to see a thing, not to mention the sound of other people outside made it hard to hear anything but a close yell, and every step felt like it was walking on rubbish that piled up beneath his feet. Heiji stared, trying to get the best peek of the face underneath that suspiciously well-disguising monocle. Kid seemed young… thirties? Twenties? Maybe even younger. He had to be, surely; or at least he looked like he was too young to even be considered an adult.

And Kid seemed familiar in unsettling ways, and there was a sort of connecting feeling that lingered in his chest, but Heiji couldn’t put a finger on it as he continued to look at the thief with a face of discontentment as Kid continued. “...Haven’t had one of you for a while.”

“Hah?” Heiji snorted, rolling his eyes in the process. “Do ya want that to be ya final words before sending you to prison? It's been a long night, ya know. We could all use a break!”

It was awkward, but something about the tense atmospherical mood snapped and Kid pursed his lips. “It’s funny how you think you could catch me, Tantei-han. Too bad that the likes of you won’t be well enough to catch me.”

“So who do ya think can catch you?”

“That’s-!” He went cut off as the sound of police sirens rolled up to the building, and the eyes of the thief went fatal as he quickly tried to get his hands away from Heiji’s. But the latter Osakan was ready for this, preparing for the moment and tinkering with his other hands as he pulled out the cuffs that he put away earlier and immediately touched them to Kid’s wrist. He wasn’t stupid; pulling away from Heiji quick, but it was too late as Heiji grabbed at the criminal’s other hand to wrap the metal around and-!

Click.  

Heiji looked down, freezing instantly in his spot, as he felt Kid do the same and saw how the cuff now was wrapped around two very different wrists- one of a phantom thief, and the other a detective. Who looked at each other with both dumbfounded looks on each other's faces. 

There was an awkward silence, as both parties realized that they were just handcuffed together.

The first one to explode was Kid, who kept that aggravating poker face even though his voice was angrier than ever. “What the heck, Tantei-han!? I’m trying to steal a gem here!” And his indigo eye swept sideways, to the door of the building, but Heiji was trying to buy time.

“Well, that’s what I’m tryin’ to stop ya from doin’-!” He said, but the sentence went unfinished as Kid pulled harshly on the iron chain and staggered Heiji, tripping on his feet as Kid dragged him across the staircase to go up higher. “Well, I’m getting my gem.” The thief said iron-cladly, to go where he clearly thinks the gem is, Heiji reminded himself, trying to stop being hauled across the ground as he used his hands and feet as brakes with no avail. It really hurt; but it wasn’t like it was going to cause more bruises and scrapes than a casual kendo tournament, so Heiji endured it for now.

It was strange. Being able to pick a handcuff should be one skill that Kid knows, but why doesn’t he just do so right now? Is it that the police may right be on their tail?

Somehow, Kid had the heart to want to chatter while dragging a detective up the staircase, and he gave a chatter. “...So, Tantei-han. How’d you figure me out?” He gave a quick look at Heiji’s surprised face at the question and revealed a knowing smirk. “Don’t act like I don’t know. You detective seems to love monologuing and doing some deduction stuff.” He seemed to be talking from personal experience- though where he got that from is a mystery. An ironic mystery, if Heiji could feel about it.

Heiji rolled his eyes, and if he could right now he would be sweeping up his hair. “Don’t get me started on this trick… they praise you too much, Kid-san.” the Osakan gave Kid a triumphant smirk despite being lugged around still. “The cards ya thre into the sky weren’t supposed to be breakin’ the box , but actually to cut through the line suspending the box at different angles. But if ya swooped in on ya hang glider to take the box after the smoke bomb, then you would have flown down, so instead ya used that weird line-gun with the hook of yers to send the box to the other side without fallin’. Afterwards, all ya need to do is get to the other buildin’, grab the gem, and make some magical escape on yer hang glider.”

Kid was silent, just for a second, before giving off an unreadable laugh. “Well, I guess critics shouldn’t be too underestimated. But you did miss one thing, Tantei-han.”

This made the Osakan widen his green eyes, repeating after Kid. “Miss?”

“Yeah. By the way, what’s your name? And don’t ask me to tell you mine first. I’m just Kaitou Kid.” Teasingly, Kid asked, twirling up the stairs as footsteps echoed far in the distance- they had to be searching the floors bit by bit by now… and not only that, they must be doing a carpet-style search. It’ll be a long time before the police, particularly that one Inspector, reaches all the way up here…

So Heiji could continue conversing. It could get Kid to spill something, with hopes.

“Hattori Heiji, Great Detective of the West. What, ya also a highschooler, Kid-kun?”

“Kid…-kun?” Abstracted, Kid repeated, as if surprised by the familiar title. “Alright. You’re a weird folk, Hattori-Tantei-han. Hmm…” He paused for a second, and Heiji could have sworn that indigo eyes swept around. “You don’t happen to be that one detective from the west, are you?” Idly chatting, Kid continued halfheartedly in spite of sounding invested in the conversation. The familiar title made Heiji blink for a second as Kid pursued the issue. “I thought I’d heard your name before.”

Heiji raised an eyebrow, before proudly puffing up with a smile. “Yup! Ya’re not the only one to make newsletters, Kid-kun. Besides, why’d ya not get out of the handcuffs anyways, eh?”

“Hmm?” the phantom thief hummed, thinking as if considering his reasons himself. “Well… I guess it's because I think it's fun to have a chance to talk to you.”

The Osakan furrowed his face, echoing, slightly confused. “Fun?”

“Though it’ll be all over now. Thanks for the conversation!”

Before he realized it, a ballsy grin crossed Kid’s face and quickly- without any notice, they reached the roof, but just like Heiji thought: Conan was already up there, waiting. His hair was in the wind and his eyes seemed flat, as he stared off into the night, ruby gem dangling in his arms. In one hand was a phone, clearly connected to the police, as he hung off as soon as he saw both Kid and Heiji come in.

“Hattori, you finally showed up… Oh,” Conan’s eyes widened. “Why are you guys handcuffed together?” Despite everything, he questioned curiously, sapphires glimmering in the night sky as his gaze lingered on the metal between the two. And also, maybe how Hattori was just getting up off the floor.

Kid laughed, a lot less tense than before, Heiji noticed. “It’s a long story.” And he got closer, dragging Heiji in the process as the distance closed as he put his gloved hand out. “Hey, boya, won’t you give the gem to me?” With a smile that seemed far too tuned for a child. 

Conan’s eyebrow twitched. “No, sorry…” He started in a serious tone, but then he raised the ruby up to his eyes and smiled as childishly as he could muster, voice sing-song sweetly. “This gem is really pretty! I think I should give it to the keiji-nii-san!” He looked back, eyes closed, grinning as he waved the jewel in his hand back and forth.

It seemed like Kid was expecting the answer, because his smile didn’t faze at all. “Well, that’s fine-!” And with the wrap of another smoke bomb, a large, grey-pink cloud made out of unknown gas and Conan’s voice came out as an unruly scrape. The sound of the tranquilizer watch being flipped open was something that Heiji could hear, along with “Darn it, I used it earlier, didn’t I!?” before the smoke evaporated and Kid had the gem well in his hands, exultant.

Heiji couldn’t know, feeling his fingers not move the way he intended. Immediately, Heiji looked down, identifying the problem at the center:he was now stuck, and in an instant Kid somehow tied up his hands and let go of the handcuffs, wrapping Heiji up in a long sheet of fabric that wrapped him up, rendering him unable to move. The Osakan bit his lip, watching with alertness as Conan looked over at him with shock. 

“What did you do to Hattori?” Genuine concern was in his voice as slowly, Conan cranked his head over to the thief who seemed all too proud of himself, twirling the ruby in his hands.

“Ahh~ Just some friendly tie-up. Once the police come, I’m sure they’ll be able to undo the dead now fine. Don’t worry about it! Now, I’ll just-!” Kid put the gem to the moon, his eyes narrowing before the smile was back in an instant. “-return this Lady’s Caressfull Wishes. It would be so rude, after all…” 

There was a wistful smile on his face for the mere fraction of a second.

And so Kid popped a parachute out of nowhere in particular as Conan’s eyes were widened and Kid tossed the gem over the side of the building before he spawned a hang glider and flew off into the sky.

The echoes of his egotistical laughter came completely dismissed, however, because the string of the parachute snapped in half with no reasoning. It wasn’t Kid’s fault. He seemed just as shocked; his eyes went diluted and laugh gone, face distorting into an expression out of a poker face as he watched- along with Heiji and Conan- the ruby come flashing down.

Which would be at a rate that would absolutely kill any human being unlucky enough to be hit with it.

Caught between choices, Heiji immediately struggled to get out of the knot- to no avail, as he watched Conan’s choices all flash in both of their heads. Either he goes after Kid- which Heiji knows he wouldn’t - or he sends a soccer ball down to collide with the ruby. But earlier… the onee-san found that Conan’s limbs couldn’t handle the shock waves by the shoes so she took away those and the belt entirely… which meant that Conan couldn’t possibly-!

 

“Sorry, Hattori!”

 

It was all too late as Conan sent him one apologetic smile, so genuine and almost passing of a young kid- but it was all too late. As Heiji struggled one last time to get the tie off himself, he watched as Conan dove off the side of the building to catch the gem in time. Heiji swore- he heard some screams in the distance, perhaps even heard Kid’s fearful yell, but didn’t do a thing as he heard the impact land on the ground.

The crunch, and the no-doubt blood as the cops charged through the door, and someone was spamming their phone, and the body-!

Heiji screamed.

 

==

 

“Ahahaha…” Conan laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his head in sheepish contemptment. “That’s what happened! Yeah, that’s everything! So don't worry, Amuro-nii-chan! I’m fine.”

Amuro, however, looked at him with a dead icy gaze bordering on something that the child couldn’t quite pick out. “...Are you trying to joke with me, Conan-kun? I’m not so easily fooled, you know. You… fell off the side of a building to save a mother and her child. Is that right?” Those lines sounded half-warm alone with words, yet the way Amuro said them… they sent chills down Conan’s spine.

“I mean, it wasn’t a particularly tall building. And what matters is that instead of being hit without knowing anything, the mom and child were able to avoid it because it was me, a kid, instead of a gemstone.” Conan corrected sheepishly, grinning in hopes of appearing as child-like as possible. “I’m okay, though!”

Amuro’s eyes became hooded as he swept his thumb over the flinch-inducing wound that quickly spread an unhealthy amount of blood upon pressing it as Conan recoiled from it. 

“Liar. You’re such a little liar, Conan-kun.”

Intelligent sapphire eyes looked up at Amuro, whispering something into his soul- something unreadable, as he nearly cowered, seeing the bland light in the eyes. 

Amuro Tooru, Bourbon, Furuya Rei, was a perfect person on the outside. Kazami said so. Azusa said so. Even the random customer that walks in one in a while would say so. But on the inside, is where the golden apple is rotting… he’s dying on the inside, consumed by everything and all the stress and darkness that has ascended from the shadows to come and hunt him down.

“...Liars are redeemable too,.” Castaway, Conan looked up intensely at Amuro, as if radiating all of his light- all of that unbearably perfect light that breaks apart all of Amuro’s shells, even tore through Bourbon and stabbed him and disintegrated him into molecules- it was too bright. But too luring, and was so hard to not want to touch. “After all… it's not what we say that defines us as a person, Amuro-nii-chan. It's what we do on behalf of it.”

It hurt. His chest was threatening to burst out of his body, heart ripped out and present it to Conan. Amuro reached out, wanting to hug Conan, but pulled his hand away.

He doesn’t deserve it.

But to his surprise, Conan reached forward, taking Amuro’s hands into his small own and held with both, looking up at Amuro with a small smile. “So let’s be liars together, okay?”

“We’re in this together, Zero!”

It hurt. The memory of Hiro, coming back to his brain- flashing, and for a second, Amuro could see the light that he had seen in Hiro being passed down to the small figure in front of him.

“Of course.” Amuro heard himself say, but who it was that said that- Amuro Tooru, Furuya Rei, or Bourbon, it was really hard to tell.

He put his other hand onto Conan’s own and smiled, before an uncontrollable sensational excuse of an emotion punctured to his body, and it hurt and pounded hard to feel someone so close- Amuro hasn’t had anyone for physical contact for so long. He’s retracted away from the outside world since Hiro’s death. After all, who could understand Amuro, who he truly was? Who could accept that dark part of him that nobody wants to touch, nobody wants to see, and everyone just wants to die?

Maybe he can, a traitorous little voice in the back of his head said. Maybe he’ll be the one.

Conan looked down at his watch, shedding his hands away and Amuro nearly felt sad at the lack of contact, before the boy looked up- and saw Amuro’s face. It must have been frightening- Bourbon must have loved him more than he could say, because the usually calm Conan’s face scrunched up in shock and he leaned back, quickly trying to distance the two of them.

“Now, I have to go, ha-ha-ha! I mean, I need to go buy that toilet paper for Kogoro-ouji-san-!” 

Instantly, Amuro held Conan by the collar and gave the kid a threatening look, truly reminiscent of Bourbon. “Hmm? I can do that for Mouri-san… he must not be the best of parents if he’s sending an injured six-year-old out early in the morning to buy toilet paper. ” He seemed to consider something for a second, before Amuro’s eyes lit up with a kindred smile. “How about this? You can stay at my house today… I’ll take time off from Poirot.”

Conan’s eyes looked at Amuro in suspicion, before continuing their conversation in a casual tone despite how he stared at the three-faced man. “Erm… it's fine… I’m not as injured as not being able to buy toiletries for Kogoro-ou-!”

Before he could finish, the tall adult in front of him cut his words off.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Absent-mindedly, Amuro whispered slowly in realization, staring intensely at Conan as if having mixed feelings about it all. Grey-blue eyes met sapphire orbs, and there was a pause before the waiter continued. “You didn’t tell him or Ran-san. You didn’t want them to be worried.”

“Hehe… ehh?” Was Conan’s response, as Amuro scooped the kid up. “Wait, Amuro-nii-chan-!”

Amuro chuckled, thoughts clearly conflicting in his mind. 

“Let’s go.”

 

===

 

“Sorry, Hattori.” 

He jumped off, leapt off the side of the building to catch the gem in his outstretched hands, the ruby quickly disappearing between his fingertips. The mother and child underneath saw it incoming, avoiding accordingly, and then the boy’s body touched the ground. 

Then he was dead, corpse splattered with crimson flowers that would burn up so easily if cremated; and looking at Kaito with stitched-together eyes, sclera completely inked black with dull, grey-blue orbs that didn’t resemble the usual eyes whatsoever. Dead, calling out to Kaito as the hands, now pale and cold as ice, moved on it's own to point a finger at Kaito’s dejectedly frozen body.

“This is all your fault., Kuroba Kaito.” The corpse said, mouth moving, blue lips curled up in a menacing smile. In a childish way, the corpse began crawling up from the floor, dragging his own body to come closer to a retreating Kaito, but a wall constructed itself right behind him. “It’s all your fault, Kaito. You know that, don’t you? It's your fault that I’m dead.”

Your fault.

Your fault.

Your fault.

“It’s… my fault…”

 

His eyes shook open, cold sweat dripping down the side of his face.

Indigo-blue eyes awakened after a second of heavy breathing and panting, large, widened eyes desperately trying to look around and locate signs of danger, before he gazed straight into the darkness once again. Kaito touched his head, frantically trying to calm down his beating heart. And then he shrank up, into a ball, and wanted to disappear.

What had happened? Kid never failed. How did his parachute not work? He was sure that all of his previous ones did, and Kaito checked each and every one before usage… Usually, the parachutes landed fine on the ground, extremely lightly, and set the jewels up for the police to find… so what changed this time?

Unless… someone sabotaged him? But who? Or was it his own fault, after all; did he hurt the kid who means most dear? The light that brightened up the dark world of which Kaito -  Kid - and all the rest of them, the harsh critical voices - lived in. 

Something in his heart positively ached at the idea, and a sudden flash of headache went into his brain, shooting hot pain throughout his head. Memories swirled around, voices whispered, and...

The cold and insufferable darkness surrounded him. It didn’t grasp him. It rejected him, pushing Kaito out of the shadows, and the light, the light, hated him too. Nothing worked, and everything hurt- “Ah… Listen, Kaito-kun. Everyone has secrets that they cannot tell, including me. Now, will you follow in my footsteps of a phantom thief?” and “I love you. Kaito, I love you and will love you forever.” and “Do you see this gun, Kaito? My husband gave me this and left it to you. I hope you become the great magician that he was. Follow your dreams.”

...My dreams?

Kaito rapidly opened his eyes.

What do I want?

Indigo orbs looked up, the darkness suddenly pierced by a blinding ray of light… and a hand wrapped across Kaito’s own, warm and soft and like a puzzle piece, fitting right where he is.

Everyone loves Edogawa Conan. It was true, wasn’t it? He never belongs to just one person; because he tries and does save everybody. And everyone has to share a piece of him, and nobody is satisfied with the little portion of the shining light of justice that they are given. Therefore, they all chase after the light, working in several efforts to contain it, to lure it, to hide it in fear of it disappearing.

Yet everyone wants more.

In his dream, it was his fault Conan was dead… and it still was. There was only one way to compensate, wasn’t there? And it was the way to protect what is most dear.

Kaito laughed to himself. It sounded fake, even to his own ears. 

Edogawa Conan… the light that you are…

…I want to own you. 

Notes:

possessivekaito.exe/mentallyunstableamuro.exe has been activated

To begin with, I would like to address the fact that I've been gone for two months... oops. I've been very busy with schoolwork; and my school runs a tight schedule that leaves me bare minimum of time to write, even if I have motivation.

I would also like to thank my friend Fishy! She's great, and talking to her is extremely fun. (She also is the one who supported this entire chapter's release, so if anyone still reads this story anymore, thank her!) And something cool coming out soon. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

I would lastly like to take this opportunity to remind you that every detail written in my chapters are for a reason, and nothing is unintentional! Even though some chapters are worse than others, I will always capture the main points to what I want to paint a story out for you.

As always, thank you so much for reading! (We reached 4,000 hits, and it's a blessing for me!) Tell me for mistakes in the comment section. I appreciate all hits and kudos, but especially comments! See you all next time (soon)!

Chapter 13: Side Stories I: Akai Shuichi Chapter

Notes:

not the usual chapter this time :o

warnings: death, burning & fire, family issues & family violence, angst, gun violence, emotional trauma, mentions of malnutrition, threatening using life, allergic reactions, identity issues, corpses, corpse disrespect, disgust, gun training, real types of guns, irresponsible car driving

Please DO NOT PROCEED if any of the above you are upset by. This chapter is not meant for the faint of heart. However, this can be rated somewhere between PG-13 or R16. Please proceed with caution.

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

Chapter Text

Side Stories I: Akai Shuichi Chapter 

 

Life was never easy in a multi-billionaire underground organization such as the Black Organization. And the first one to admit to the fact, however begrudgingly, was none other than Rye himself.

Long, black hair. Pale skin, barely scraped with any scratches. Always wearing a black trenchcoat, a smoky cigarette in his mouth, and the long bag of a shotgun over his back. Sharp, green eyes with a single lash long from the bottom with bottomless pits as orbs that stared right through your soul. That was how Rye was described. And, in all fairness, the description really wasn’t completely wrong. He himself admitted to wearing the clothes as a memory for his past- something which would have added another rumor to the ones running wild on top of a pile. 

However, there was one crucial fact that everybody seemed to have found wrong: that there was currently a ten-year-old kid, under Rye’s care, who was staring at him like he both wanted to run away that very moment or was so nervously fascinated that he wanted to dissect him.

In all honesty, Rye wasn’t quite sure what to do with the boy. But he didn’t show that unfounded hestitance, and instead just stood there with a look of indifference as a droplet of sweat fell down his face. 

He was holding hands with Vermouth, and the way that he looked at Rye wasn’t the gaze of a kid, more like the genuine curiosity of a scientist, or a detective. Certainly not the most usual… but anyone who had the privilege to even touch Vermouth surely wouldn’t be accounted as “normal”, especially not in this organization. It might have just been him, but Vermouth gripped the kid’s hand tightly upon seeing Rye’s coming figure, he observed lightly.

“So, why are you here?” In a deep voice, the black-haired man said, holding the still-burning cigarette in between two gloved fingers.

Biting her lips, Vermouth spoke. “Rye… this is Kirsche. He may look young, but don’t underestimate his abilities.” She waved for the little child, who gave a polite nod in response, eyes looking away awry and nervously flickering his eyes back and forth between the objects of interest in his gaze. “And Kirsche… this is Rye.” Rye didn’t do anything but stiffen, looking down at the kid with glowing green eyes. It clearly frightened the kid and immediately made him shiver like a cat and climb behind Vermouth’s back, causing a chain reaction of Vermouth looking at Rye irritatedly like he was some kind of virus.

“Don’t scare him,” her delicately built voice muttered, patting the kid on the head and immediately Rye’s eyes sharpened. So the kid was this close to Vermouth… so he must be high up on the rankings. Perhaps… he could be that kid.

Dangerously lowering his gaze, the glittering green eyes met with sapphire orbs, and the boy jumped behind Vermouth, trembling lightly. Vermouth sighed, putting a hand up to comb her hair while looking at Rye with a face of What did I just tell you? That made Rye go quiet. The actress slowly coerced the kid into moving forward, but the boy’s gaze remained glued solely to the floor.

Ignoring the clearly nervous kid, Vermouth locked eyes with Rye as she pointed at him accusingly. “Anyways, Kirsche’s going to be partnered up with you for your next mission,” she mentioned carelessly, as if what she just said made a lot of sense. Vermouth’s eyes sharpened immediately, fatally staring as if speaking though her voice didn’t come out as anything more than a kind, soothing heroine. “ Don’t you dare let him be hurt, Rye. Or else-” a smile crossed her lips, “ you’re going to regret it.”

Instantly, her voice changed back to normal and the cold smile changed for something honey-sweet, something close to real affection, and Rye’s eyebrow raised at that sight alone. “If I could, I would definitely rather do this mission myself… but it’s an investigation quest- moreso likely an assassination mission, and that just isn’t befitting of I.” She swept her platinum hair, entangling them between her thin fingers.

Rye said nothing, just nodding in response, while the kid seemed to be slightly irritated by the words coming out of her mouth as Vermouth continued to talk about the details of the mission. 

“The target this time is Mikalus Kiyoshi, thirty-nine, male. He’s born of both Japanese and English- speaks Queen’s English, mind you , and has been in business relations with our organization for a while now. However,” Vermouth broke with a wary look crossing her face as she handed the information sheets of paper over to Rye.  “He’s been acting… quite rebellious recently. Hasn’t been keeping up with our demands as much as he ought to, though he should be indebted to us to leave us… That’s where you two come in.” 

She tipped her head at the two of them, voice speaking sharply. “You two are to investigate what’s happening, and if he has a single sign of betraying the organization- eliminate him immediately. Also,” she added while looking at her nails, “if you happen to find anything… peculiar, give it to the organization.”

“Peculiar?” the green-eyed man leaned into his rifle.

“You’ll know if you see it.” Vermouth’s usually full lips tightened and slimmed into a single line, before looking off into the distance.

Rye put a finger on the case of his rifle, letting the pulse of his fingers sharpen his gaze. “Deadline?” 

The smile on Vermouth’s mouth was unnerving of itself, but the sheer carefully concealed hatred in her eyes wasn’t something that she could fully evaporate. “Two weeks.” She said it so definitely, but Rye’s eyes narrowed- a fortnight was an awfully long time for one investigation mission, seeing as most of them ended in less than three days. Something else must be going on with this particular mission.

The dark-haired man lowered his sight to the sheets of paper in his hand, again flipping through them to see what may have caused extra. Nothing out of the usual… even the picture said nothing but the look of a rich man, brown-grey hair and intelligent mocha eyes which paired nicely with the slightly stronger build of the man. His skin was fair, no immediate signs of illness of any kind, and his background information seemed mostly realistic for a supposed business partner to the organization.

Perhaps he’d have to have Jodie look for this Mikalus Kiyoshi in the United State’s database soon, especially checking through the criminal database. If he turns out to be a good man, then he’d have to call in the FBI to protect the man.

“Well,” Vermouth said, bringing his mind back to reality, even if he didn’t show any signs of being in a daze. “I’ll escort the both of you to your car. Take care of Kirsche for me.” The quiet gleam in her eyes threatened, you better take good care of him.

Rye snorted. “I will.”

The kid just uncomfortably looked up at the both of them, and followed sheepishly while holding onto Vermouth’s pale hand.

 

=

It was nothing but a tense drive that awaited the both of them as Vermouth finally left begrudgingly with a regretful look on her face, but it wasn’t like Rye was fazed at all. The silence that slipped between the two- constructing a large wall in between the empty space that Rye welcomed with open arms. It wasn’t like the crimson blossoms of blood waited for anyone before reaping them clean of their breaths, after all, so in comparison- Rye barely edged a word.

Only when it was that the boy, Kirsche , was flipping through the documents did Rye finally look through the rear mirror with a look of indistinct interest. “Mikalus Kiyoshi…” said the boy, pulling each page apart from the other with his fingers.

Quietly, Rye watched as the kid fumbled through the information files, seemingly just whispering them to himself yet loud enough for everyone around to hear. “Okay… he’s thirty-four, male, right-handed, a hundred seventy-three centimeters tall… No illnesses or sicknesses to be noted and currently resides in that hotel around the corner, room 5210...” He let out a shaky sound as he looked up to stare at the approaching building, blue orbs trembling as his small hands wrapped around his seatbelt when he opened his mouth to speak up.

However, Rye decided to start the conversation first. “How do you go about investigating this?”

“Ehh?” The kid gaped. And then stared. And then reacted violently, as if all of the courage that he just gathered dissipated into the winds, just because Rye spoke to him first. It made him narrow his green eyes and patiently, the sniper waited for the boy to calm down.

Was this really that kid that seemed to be whispered throughout the organization so often now? It's highly likely, considering how protective Vermouth was of him… but Rye expected someone a bit less… mousy. Even if Rye did know that he looked a bit frightening, surely nothing that would evoke too harsh a reaction. He breathed out and looked ahead to the crosslights.

“Umn, I was thinking… m-maybe we could…erm, dress up?”

Rye raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean to go in, undercover?” 

“Y-yeah… I mean… Kiyoshi-san lives in a hotel room, right…? W-we could probably pretend like we got the wrong room and m-maybe get a conversation g-going? Only if we don’t tell him that we’re, erm, in the process of investigating him…” His blue eyes became a little bit more surreal as he looked away, reflected in the rear mirror.

Rye thought about it a little, and then nodded. “Roger that.” Green eyes sharpened, as something in his chest was kind of curious at what type of game the little kid was playing at. 

Driving over to the hotel, they entered with the kid slowly trailing behind Rye’s footsteps, gaze turned downwards the entire time as he trembled. Rye pursed his lips, attempting to drop the scary look as much as possible as he felt the weight of the shotgun become heavier over his shoulder, but ignored it, before skipping right past the reception desk and pressing the button to go up the elevator.

The boy hid in the corner, staring emptily at the metal doors of the elevator as if he wanted nothing more but to leave that very instant. What nearly cracked a laugh was that the calm, melodic music of the elevator played, despite the heavy tension in the room.

“So,” Rye began, tapping on his wrist as the number displayed on the black screen signalled a level up and Kirsche froze as his head robotically turned over to meet Rye’s eyes. “ Kirsche , is it?” Another enemy to be disposed of by the FBI? Or… Rye shook his head.

This was why he hated dealing with little kids, and why he especially disliked the rumor that one of the members of the organization close to the center of the group was a little boy. They always reminded him of the time he had spent with his little brother and sister- and something in his heart softened at that and he hated it. Akai Shuichi may have been allowed to think for his siblings, in the best way he could, but the cold and ruthless sniper Rye certainly was not.

FBI or otherwise.

“Ah, ahm…” the boy coughed loosely after gathering his hoarse voice, speaking softly as if trying to make it like he wasn’t even there. Now that raises the question: what was such a transparent kid doing in the organization? It was clear he’s supposed to be that kid, with the codename Kirsche and everything… but, there seemed to be something a little bit more sinister. “I-I… please, erm, just call me F-Fubuki?”

Rye pursed his lips. “Fubuki?” And he garnered a little nod that seemed out of this world, like the kid’s spirit wasn’t even actually there just by talking to him. “Mn. I’m… Dai. Moroboshi Dai. Nice to meet you, kid, I suppose.”

He could have sworn he saw the kid’s glasses light up and glow white, before those eyes that seemed to gain more of a bone-chilling color every second met his own dulled, green eyes. 

“...That’s not your real name, is it…?” 

And then the illusion of a trembling kid popped, before the boy shook his head and the voice crack was back. Rye almost missed the scarily stable-voiced child he just saw, rather than the one standing before himself now- it made it so much easier to feel no guilt while pulling out a gun to shoot him in the head.

The dark-haired male chuckled, his long hair swishing behind him as a result. With a cigarette in hand, he lit it with a matchstick, and concentrated green eyes glowed while a soft smirk was on his face. “What made you think so?”

Now, those eyes faded again and the world became monochrome, as before, when the kid immediately shook his hands and head, nervously trying to back away. “N-no, I- sorry to bother you!” Perhaps the fearsome look in Rye’s gleaming eyes provoked some primordial instinct in the kid or something, because he backed off instantly like a prey who knew he was outmatched. 

What a pity.

Just as Rye thought that, they reached the fifth floor and without warning, the elevator doors opened and the boy, who was just leaning on the doors, fell back and the back of his head landed on the carpet with a loud thump. “Eh- eh-? Ow…”

Rye sighed deeply, putting a hand to his forehead before reaching out to the kid.

With shaking orbs, Fubuki seemed to be shaking between trust and not, before eventually he quivered as he took the hand, rising up from the support with large, wide eyes like he couldn’t believe it just happened. The kid’s body was lighter than he expected.

Wow. Looks like Vermouth’s protectiveness didn’t extend past physical injuries- she was seriously under developing the kid’s body. Maybe she was even starving him, who knows? Then again, Vermouth probably wouldn’t be the smartest in how to raise a child, even if she tried, she wouldn’t understand much. Well, at least it wasn’t any of Rye’s business.

Staggeringly, the kid stood up and quickly turned as if nothing happened- except there was a blatant embarrassed aura about him that seemed to stick so much as they landed right in front of room 5210. Like he was collecting himself- Fubuki stared at the floor as he waited for Rye to come, and breathed harshly in, out, before twisting the doorknob as harshly as possible to make the loudest sounds.

Like expected, whoever inside immediately came out with the disrupting sounds, and an irritated looking man with brown hair made it to the door, dark eyes unfocused as he opened with a grit of his teeth. “What is it now!?” Angrily, he bit his lips, but eyes widened as he saw two completely different men than who he surely expected at the door. “Wait, who’re you?”

Rye saw the expression on the kid’s face. A picture-perfect frame for surprise, eyes- with color seemingly rushing back in them- widening with shock, before little fingers wrapped around the man at the door’s shirt with a kidly voice. “Ahrm-eh? Onii-san? Why’re you in our room?” 

But though the act was all well said and done, Rye could clearly note the gulp and how the kid trembled, just touching the fabric of the man who was clearly Mikalus Kiyoshi, matching up with the picture perfectly. Almost too perfectly.

“Excuse me?” the man said, but less roughly now as the boy gently tugged on his shirt. “What do you mean, little kid? This is my room.”

“Your room?” Seemingly surprised, the boy blinked and fluttered his eyelashes, before leaning over to look at the number plate for the hotel room. “Oh! This is 5210? Oh no, I’m sorry!” He quickly let go of the fabric- too obvious, he let go too fast- and bowed almost ninety degrees. When he rose again, his voice was full of genuine concern, as if he actually cared about the investigation target. “Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Rye pursed his lips. Though there were a few flaws here and there… This kid was good at acting, despite his shaking whenever he saw Rye. What was laughable was that Fubuki might very well be putting a target on his head by revealing himself to Rye, but the long-haired man was glad- it can give him the conviction to kill without hesitation, if he sees the true nature of the kid.

After all, surely no human- kid or otherwise- rooted deep in the organization could be good.

Mikalus’ eyes softened at the little boy’s voice. “Ah… well, everyone makes mistakes, so it's all good, kiddo.” And then he scanned and shifted his eyes to Rye, who was looking at him with a flat expression, and something in Mikalus’ eyes shifted into caution. “And this is? Your older brother?”

The boy’s eyes glanced at Rye with both wary and fear, but before he could speak, Rye opened his words up. “We’re cousins,” he said cleanly, careful not to say anything unrealistic. “This boya ’s parents had some overseas party to attend to, and will presumably be staying there for work reasons, so he’s in my care for now.” Rye stared for a second, before continuing on. “Apologies. Didn’t know we had the wrong room- as the kid said, you need any help?”

Beside him, Rye could hear the kid whisper underneath his breath to himself: “Boya?” 

It seemed like Mikalus relaxed a bit, eyes not nearly as sharp anymore as he slumped down and gave a tired chuckle. “Actually… if you don’t mind… I could use a bit of help with, erm, getting some money…” And then his eyes widened and quickly he scrambled back. “Of course, I’m not asking you to give me any! Just… Could you help me with some work?”

Interested, Rye raised an eyebrow- money? Why would he need money, when he’s selling weapons to the organization? “Money?” 

There was a pause, and then a painful chuckle worked its way out of Mikalus’ mouth. “Ah… I’m in debt, actually. Just spent a fortune to… do things.” Leaving it vague, he looked at Rye, but acted as if he didn’t see his face but beyond- as if accessing the work he could provide.

“Things?” Fubuki echoed curiously.

Warily, the man looked down, biting on his lip. “That, I cannot tell you. Now, would you like to come in?” He opened the door, inviting the two in with a sweep of his hands and Rye could be lying if he said he barely caught the frightening smile, lingering on the boy’s lips.

And the eyes. Cold, sapphire, and empty, they looked straightforward with lack of reflective light, as if he was about to murder someone dead and pry open all of their secrets.

Rye smiled. And then went in, quickly scanning around for any clues. Nothing of interest, really… except for one particular image that stood out far too much, on Mikalus’ drawers. Green eyes narrowed as he wandered over, with Fubuki taking notice and quickly following in his paths, but not daring to touch the sniper whatsoever as he struggled to be tall enough to see.

Sighing, Rye took the image and lowered it down so the boy could take a glance and observe. Instantly, his expression went through several phases- more than Rye was even feeling and quickly he calmed down, giving Rye a nervous smile as trembling hands gave the image back to Rye.

Now, it was starting to get a little bit strange… Why, exactly, was Fubuki so scared of him? He did look frightening, sure… but it feels like nothing has changed, even when Rye has done these uncharacteristically fit actions that should label him as “nice” in a young child’s brain. And yet, the boy looked at him with a mix of fear, uncontrolled horror and anxiety and even repressed… scorn?

“What are you looking at?” Cautiously, Mikalus’ voice echoed and walked over with alarm, before getting tenser upon seeing the image that the pair was currently observing, before going limp entirely as Rye and Fubuki turned, sitting on the bed. “You’re looking at… that image?”

“Your family. It appears… You had an identical twin?” Fubuki childishly pointed at the frame with a lighthearted voice, large eyes looking up at Mikalus with something in his eyes which flashed: if you don’t answer my question right now, you’re a big meanie! It looked like the supplier really couldn’t refuse the big puppy eyes that, now that Rye thought about it, surely tricked a bunch of other people into believing this kid.

Even Vermouth? No, scratch that… Even the boss?

“Yes.” Mikalus answered, voice full of unsatisfied sadness, and his voice was cracked. “My… family. My father. My mother. My pa. A-and my… y-younger b-brother, Michael… who all burned up in the mansion… Where…” Eyes closed, he rolled his shoulders back and looked down blankly. “I… I’m sorry, I- my younger brother… I… was to protect him… from those flames… b-but I couldn’t….” 

Fubuki tapped on one of the little boys in the picture. “...Is this one you?”’

“N-no, that one is… Michael…” Perhaps it was seeing a full-grown eyes burst into tears, but Fubuki clearly had no idea what to do- and to be frank, neither did Rye. “D-do… you want to see more pictures of dear him…? Bless him in heaven..?” He looked up at the kid pleadingly. Fubuki, who evidently has never encountered a situation like this before, merely coughed as slightly as he could.

Maybe it could be said that Mikalus wanted nothing but a lending ear to hear his story.

Rye cut in before the man became more internally repressed. “Of course.” And hearing those words, the man brightened so much that he didn’t seem like that man from before and grasped onto the handle of the drawer, pulling out a photo of someone who looked exactly like what Mikalus might have looked like as a kid. Clearly though, the boy in this photo was older than the previous family photo.

Green eyes narrowed, observing the little kid who was happily drawing, clothes wrinkled with something very suspiciously red staining a corner of it, a ring of precious ruby on his right hand which gripped the pencil with an open-faced smile frowning upon his expression. 

The careful staring only paused and stopped as droplets fell from the corners of a person’s eyes and immediately the pair shot up their heads at the man crying over his dead, younger brother.

“I…” Fubuki started, but trailed off. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through… Do you want to tell us your story, if you’d like?” He offered, seemingly out of goodwill, but Rye knew better.

Lending a helping hand, a source of relief- yet it was only to reach his own goals. 

This kid was cunning.  

Sniffling, it seemed like Mikalus broke off into a mental breakdown, crushing under the pressure of everything he had been through. “Thank you… m-my… My name is Mikalus Kiyoshi… I had a younger brother, Michael Kiyoshi… and… one day, while playing in the kitchen my younger brother accidentally… lit a stove on fire… and we didn’t know how to put it out.” Emptily, he looked out into the distance. 

It painted a mental image in Rye’s head, of a pair of identical boys with brown hair, turning on a kitchen utensil and watching it glow.

“An ember flew and then… the entire kitchen burned, and the flaring flames, the claws, they were after me! All I could do was run… but my brother’s lungs were always weak and the ashes went into his lungs, so he couldn’t… run anymore, and he…” 

He trailed off. But enough has been said, and uncontrollably Fubuki started to inch his hands close to the picture once more, to hold the frame and stare the happier family in the face. Understandably so, and the pair of little boys’ smiles seemed much more hollow to look at now.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rye managed to say in a way that sounded truly apologetic, green eyes sweeping the floor. “Is that why… You’re in debt?” He asked carefully, lips thinning in a quiet and mournful way that matched well with the shockingly sharpness of his eyes.

The brown-haired man shrugged gently, rolling his shoulders down, before glancing up sadly.

Mikalus coughed in his tears. “Yes.” He looked at the picture in the boy’s hands, once again on the edge of crying. “It happened so long ago… but recently, the property that burned down was… scheduled to be taken down to build a resort; and I tried my hardest to stop it- I tried paying them millions of dollars and everything... I didn’t want my memories to be burned to ashes like the rest of my family.”

Bingo. So that was the debt cause- now, to find out if his allegiance has strayed from the Organization, and if it was necessary to shoot his head off.

“I’m… Sorry, could we leave you for a minute?” Fubuki suddenly said before Rye could open his mouth and tugged on his sleeve. Rye immediately sent the kid a dangerous look- they might have just been able to wrap this supposedly two-week mission up in less than a day, which surely would have raised his status in the organization, getting him closer to the heart of whatever darkness enveloped the place.

Eyes narrowing, Rye sighed before nodding quietly, trying to force a look of softness on his face. It clearly didn’t go over well, seeing the kid’s reaction, but he let it slide past him without a second’s more of doubt. The kid’s hand let go almost as soon as he could as they exited the room and just by being next to him, Rye could hear Fubuki’s heartbeat speed up as if he was containing his anxiety the entire time.

Soft pants. Harsh breathing. Slumped shoulders, bangs covering his eyes as the boy stared down at the ground, his skin clearly jittery with goosebumps as if he just saw a corpse.

Or maybe he did. After all, Mikalus could just be another dead body in the hallway soon enough.

“...So what is it?” Uncaring, Rye looked away from the kid and lit a cigarette next to the sign that banned smoking. Instantly, Fubuki’s head whipped upwards to stare at the sniper, but it wasn’t like the long-haired man cared as he just continued on as if he noticed nothing. “Why’d you call me out here?”

Fubuki gaped. And then seemed to collect his thoughts as he blinked up, at the genuine question.

“W-well, it had something to do… with those p-photos… I-I think there’s something more going on…” He looked down at his hands, instinctively leaning back on the wall behind him, looking away from Rye, shivering by who knows what. “M-maybe it's n-not that simple…?”

Pursing his lips, Rye sighed, the human part in him staring off into the distance before he decided to acknowledge the claim. “You mean the hand?” He said almost bitterly, wanting just to wrap this mission up. In the words of Rum: “Time is money”. Except, in his case, more time could very well be more life for him to live, and a way to climb up the organization quicker. “Like how the first photo, the youngest one, showed ‘Michael’ being left-handed, while in the second photo ‘Michael’ was apparently right-handed?”

“Y-you knew?” In a faint-hearted voice, the kid said slightly, emotions clear on his face as it went through a series of negativity. “T-then why…?” Nearly mumbling to himself, Fubuki quivered.

“Could’ve saved time.” The long-haired man wrapped up simply. “The details of this kind of investigation… Sometimes, ignoring them is how you raise your rank. Plus, Vermouth says to eliminate the target immediately upon seeing a single  mark of betrayal.” He looked off. “I’d say he showed plenty.”

As fast as he could, the boy shook his head and looked at him with eyes that could have screamed unbelievable next to Rye’s ears, but the latter ignored it. Ironic, really… a member of the organization, coaching an FBI agent on how to possibly save a life. Bitterly scoffing, he let the contained anger for the organization pour into his eyes, and glared at the kid with all the darkness in his eyes- almost inviting him to speak and provoke the beast underneath.

To his surprise, the timid boy talked back. “B-but… it's still not right…”

An organization member talking about right and wrong. How hilarious.

“After all… it's our mission to make sure it's right… and to make sure that the weapon dealer isn’t not supplying weapons for betraying reasons, so the organization doesn’t lose a weapon source… unless, you don’t want the organization to get their hands on the weapons?” And internally, Rye sighed, and narrowed his eyes at the little kid staring up at him.

But on the outside, a smile- if you could call it that- arose on his pale face, but he gave no clear cut reply and instead let the mysterious smile drive questions into Fubuki’s head.

However, unexpectedly- Mikalus burst through the door with large eyes, all traces of tears gone as he looked at the pair with nothing but scorn, fear and fury all mixed together in one fell swoop. His throat was hoarse from crying and his mottled, pale skin seemed to illuminate his anger, as if the fury in his heart started rising like steam from his body. “Y-you two are organization members!? THEN-”

Immediately, and as fast as the wind, Rye pulled out a handgun. Not his preferred weapon, but a well-off gun nonetheless- and pointed it directly at the man’s heart with an unnaturally cold smile. 

“H-hah!? You think I’m afraid of a mere gun, you syndicate, money-consuming pigs!? Scram! Get out of here! SCRAM!” As he was screaming he turned, and with a loud bang, he slammed the door and just as Rye was going to shoot through the door the kid next to him pulled on his sleeve, but seemed to not realize what he had done out of reflex as he murmured to himself. “He was listening in…?”

Both of them just managed to catch the faintest hint of how Mikalus’ left hand was damaged by something, but that was nothing to be aware of as then Fubuki’s head shot up and he pulled Rye across the hallway just as fast footsteps approached from the otherside of the hall and instantly the latter understood what the boy meant- to run, as the bellhops must have heard the scream and was quickly coming to check out what was happening. Rye put back his gun in his pocket, acting like nothing happened after walking a good distance away- surely there would be people looking for them now, if Mikalus reported them of gun violence or something along those lines.

But though the kid acted calm… the shaking of his hands said well otherwise, and a smile split across Rye’s face. And it lasted until the pair got in Rye's car, the boy breathing heavily as Rye stared, having not broken a sweat.

“Something is wrong,” the kid said, staring ahead as if forgotten that Rye was there, though they were both in the long-haired man’s car. “Mikalus Kiyoshi… How strange. Why would he listen in to the conversation if he was sad and tearing up about his brother…? Unless… Something else is going on.”

And he stared at Rye all of a sudden, voice starting to become unsteady as soon as he met Rye’s eyes, as if recalling the fearsome look from earlier: “C-could y-you drive m-me to the K-Kiyoshi M-Manor, the one that Kiyoshi-san s-said burned down?”

Rye scoffed, letting go of his anger towards this kid. “Sure.” He said, minorly curious- after all, his job here, according to Vermouth, wasn’t really to investigate. It was to do the finishing blow when necessary and to supervise this kid who seems to have a knack for figuring things out.

But as they went on the road as Rye read out the location of the former manor on Mikalus’ personal information documents, the car went dead silent before mousity, Fubuki picked up a conversation.

“R-Rye…?” he timidly said, in a quiet voice as if he couldn’t believe he was initiating a conversation.

Not wanting to talk while driving as a response, the man in question nodded, letting the kid ask whatever question he wanted to answer.

“I-I wanted to ask y-you this e-earlier, but didn’t h-have the chance… Why did y-you call me ‘boya’ ?”

Rye raised an eyebrow, nearly chuckling at the utterly kiddish question, focusing on driving but answering over a spare breath. “Why not? Seems more ‘familial’ for Mikalus.” A half-truth, maybe, if he wanted to admit it to himself.

Fubuki pondered over this for a second, before evidently reaching some conclusion as he put a finger to his chin, reminiscent of a detective. And the tone he used was like one as well as he said words like they were taken straight out of a mystery novel, but with more stuttering. “A-ah… that makes s-sense…”

And the rest of the car trip was enveloped in complete silence.

 

==

 

The broken-down manor was indeed seemingly ready to be taken down. It wasn’t hard to imagine a big, strong, tall manor where a rusty and ashy building now stood, not with the basic frame structure still high in place and the beautiful stained glass still painted silkily on the walls. It felt enchanting, spellbinding, almost hauntingly so, like the mansion was possessed and about to eat open their souls. It might have been that or something else about the house made the kid flinch next to Rye.

But then again, this mousy kid seemed to flinch at every random thing, so Rye chose to pretend to ignore as he tapped on the walls. Nobody was around, thankfully, but strangely so- after all, there should be some inspection people here and there.

Another tally on the list of strange things, Rye supposed.

With Rye’s talents, sneaking inside of such a manor was of no problem as he picked the door open quickly and shuffled the door open, with the kid staring with a cross between astonishment and a face that just screamed “well, here’s another reason Rye is scary”. Carefully ignoring him, the pair locked the door behind them and then stared around the darkness.

Surprisingly, even with a few windows here and there, there was little to no light in the main hallway and Rye pulled out a cigarette lighter, opening the flame to see around. It came ablaze from a single small ember and lit the surroundings with a flickering light.

Not as well as a flashlight, but good enough. Immediately, Rye went to the first thing that caught his attention: the strangely clean rectangle on the wall, over a wooden drawer much like the one Mikalus had in his room. It wasn’t hard to deduce that there used to be a painting there, where the rectangle was- but the question was why it was taken down.

It couldn’t be that they took it down to get rid of the building; after all, the drawer below was still there, and looking down the hall multiple paintings of fruits and landscapes decorated the walls.

So why this one? Rye narrowed his eyes, but continued on.

On the other side of the room, Fubuki climbed to the fireplace and was barely able to see with the minimum illuminations coming from Rye’s lighter. But the long-haired man couldn’t ignore a thing when he heard a sharp intake, an unbelieving gasp, that caused Rye to carelessly walk over with a strange funky look on his face. 

What the kid was looking at and pointed at was a scrap of paper, hiding right under some ashes from the fire that evidently was burning in the place before. A small paper, burnt on most edges, but a few distinct letters that made Rye instantly flinch. 

With the letters “NOC LI” already in tow, it wasn’t hard to guess what the rest of the paper would have said and instantly Rye’s mind went through several different ways to either kill off Mikalus that very moment or to stage an accident where that man was given to the FBI under the witness protection program. Nobody else should have that list- since Mikalus’ family should be all dead, only he could possibly have a list of the NOC, right…?

But why did he have the list to begin with? Rye’s green eyes narrowed and he bitterly stared at the kid who shuffled next to him. Carefully, after putting gloves on, Fubuki grabbed the little scrap of paper and pocketed out a tiny box, gently placing the paper inside to preserve it. “I think t-this falls under Sharon-nee-sama’s ‘peculiar’ things…” He licked his lips.

If looks could kill, the boy would be dead several rebirths already. Calculatingly, Rye kept a straight face despite his more tense mood and agreed despite himself. “Have the time to give it to them later?” Acting on what organization member and sniper “Rye” would say, instead of the FBI intelligence NOC “Akai Shuichi” underneath.

“Y-yeah…” Fubuki gave Rye a very shaky smile and then retracted it as if remembering something. “I think later today, a-actually… E-erm, R-Rye? I-if you don’t mind, c-could you drive me t-to somewhere else later…?” He put a finger on his waist and pursed his lips.

“Where to?” Rye agreed, in spite of how he felt at that moment- right now, he needed to stall before the organization went after Mikalus and Rye was exposed. Unsurprisingly, Rye knew he wasn’t going to die- Akai Shuichi did not die that easily- but he’d have to retract from his mission of taking down the organization after so long of infiltrating.

The blue-eyed kid blinked. “I-I have to practice shooting with G-Gin-nii-sama later…” he shivered as if not wanting to remember Gin, which isn’t something unreasonable. Except for Akai, everyone else in the FBI seemed to shiver just at the sight of Gin’s murderous and bloodlusting face. Which was kind of surprising that Vermouth who seemed protective of Fubuki would let him be with Gin out of everyone- just proves to say that she wasn’t really all that good at being protective.

Mental trauma can be just as bad, if not worse than physical trauma, after all. 

Rye nodded, long hair swishing past his shoulders. “But keep searching for now.” And like what he did earlier, the kid nodded but then bolted away as if not baring to stand in the presence of Rye any longer. Curious, but not enough to comment about it, Rye went on to stare at the ripped corners of the wallpaper and the cracked floorboards. Something about this place wasn’t right, and it definitely had something to do with what was going on with Mikalus and why he had a NOC list.

Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary on the first floor, except for the rare find, so he went up to the second floor. The stairs were not so strangely creaky and green eyes narrowed as another painting had left marks of removal off the walls- how strange. 

Rye decided to go to the office first. It was clearly meant for adults, with huge bookshelves all around that were stacked with burnt books and a log in the middle that could be passed as a desk. There were drawers, and carefully Rye pulled it out, delicately pulling so as not to break anything, but to his annoyance there wasn’t really anything of interest inside, except for a picture of a sickly young boy.

Sharp eyes wandered.

Finally, after wandering through many hallways, both Rye and Fubuki ended up in the room where supposedly, the younger brother Michael was burned. They opened the room only to find absolutely nothing inside- for saying that the fire came from the kitchen, it really did feel like this room was burned first with nothing structurally stable inside, all paper becoming ashes, wood barely sustained, and something… strange.

“R-Rye,” Fubuki said scarcely, barely wanting to speak. Rye looked over at the little kid and his sapphire eyes seemed brighter than ever and they took Rye aback. “I-is it just me, or… does it smell… strange in here…?” He sniffed the air again, and it prompted Rye to smell as well.

The kid was right. It was very faint, only barely there… but the smell of… burned nuts? Or something similar, for sure. But that was something weird. It's been quite a few years since the house burned down, so why was there still the smell of something here? Unless someone has been in this room in particular recently, and moved the thing that caused this smell.

But something else was even more interesting. A small, almost transparent tube with another white but somewhat multicolored tube inside, that faintly recalled something in the back of Rye’s mind. It was strange- that what was somewhat hidden in the corner of the room was an Epinephrine auto injector, or also known as an epipen, for countering allergic reactions.

By far, this room held the most secrets, and something told Rye that the secret hiding within the room of Mikalus’ little brother Michael was one that should not have been taken lightly. Now, to look for the source of the fire that burned down the manor- Rye’s head turned to something in the opposite corner, only to find that Fubuki was already bouncing over.

The kid investigated the pile- someone had been here to clean whatever this was up. But they didn’t do too good of a job, or didn’t know how to clean up a flare inducer, because they must have just left it here after getting some kind of injury. Unless…?

The flash came from the left hand- the injured hand of Mikalus that they barely saw. So it was him…? Or could that injury come from something else? Because things that have started fires in the past surely shouldn’t be taken for granted…?

“R-Rye…” Fubuki gulped, as if afraid to be pulling out Rye from his thoughts. He stared down at the kid in the least menacing way he could. “I-I think we should leave…?” He pulled on Rye’s sleeve, something that made the long-haired man flinch as Fubuki pointed to outside the window. Multiple police cars were being pulled up, and Rye’s eyes narrowed.

“Come,” the green-eyed man said simply, pulling Fubuki into his hands as the kid made some kind of noise between a whine and a yelp as Rye gave a wicked smile, kicking through the glass window just as the door of the first floor burst open with a loud sound. 

As if nothing was happening, he carefreely moved and jumped out through the window- “W-WAIT-!”- ignoring the scream of the little kid in his arms, and fell down the two-story building. With the timing just right, it did nothing more but put a load of harsh pressure on the soles and legs of Rye’s well-honed body, and without having to see Fubuki’s look of shock, Rye retreated back into his car.

It kind of hurt, as jumping out of a two-story high building always did, but it was no pain that he couldn’t afford to pay.

“W-what just- H-holy- what just happened-?” Underneath his breath, Fubuki stared at Rye and then at himself and back at Rye, eyes big and crystal blue like the only color sprouted from a fairytale book, before he blinked and tried to collect himself whilst muttering in an unbelieving tone. “Did you just- Was I- How-!” Before he finally settled on a begrudging “Didn’t that hurt?”

Patiently, Rye started up the car just as faraway shouts from policemen and inexplicably so, he put a foot on the gas pedal and it zoomed off. “It’s fine,” he barely answered as the sound of police sirens chased after his car and something in him either snapped or reformed as he drove quicker, dodging obstacles like he was an expert racer and quickly leaving most of the policemen behind.

Big eyes glared at him, before retreating into a form of relaxation- if you could call the tenseness he seemed to have in Rye’s presence “relaxation”. But Rye paid that no mind, just continuing to drive, and when they got onto the main road, he spoke up briefly. “Where to go?”

The kid gaped. “Uh- ah? But- there’s still policemen behind us-!” Well, I wish I could lead them to Gin so easily, but in all honesty- they may as well be dead. Rye didn’t speak his thoughts aloud and instead snapped, “And?” He gripped the car wheel, turned it left as a bullet shot past like the police had no choice. They could only be said as lucky that they didn’t decide to shoot earlier, but Rye wouldn’t be where he was today if he could be stopped so easily, turning and twisting as one would do in their sleep but while driving, and then as soon as he could- on a flat, straight road- he turned to throw a gun to Fubuki’s feet.

“Well?” Rye licked his lips, pressing even harder on the pedal and thankfully he had refilled the gas earlier. He watched out of a spare eye into the rear mirror, where the kid very hesitantly brought up the gun and turned behind him, unbuckling his seatbelt and even more falteringly confoundedly looking at the gun in his hands. 

Rye’s voice harshened. “ Kirsche.”

Hearing his codename seemed to snap him out of something, and Fubuki’s eyes turned more determined than Rye had seen all day, more sharp, like a hawk ready to swoop in. Those eyes transcended mere oceanic blue and there was a certain confidence to the stillness where the kid gripped the gun and he focused out of the back window. “What about your window?” The boy managed to still say, but the coldness in his voice was now very apparent.

“Do you think that matters right now?” Rye bit, eyes flickering in between focusing on driving and the little kid who was no longer fumbling on his hands at that moment, and he could have sworn he heard a soft voice murmur “Roger that” and was welcomed by the sound of glass shattering into a million shards.

There was little to no need to see the damage done, because the screams from far off seemed to be answer enough- but Fubuki was not done. One, two, three, four- five different shots from approximately one hundred meters away with a handgun, each receiving its own scream of pain. Yet when Rye finally looked back, every single officer was still twitching or moving, or even seeking help and dialing into the police force.

Rye looked up in surprise. “You didn’t kill them?” He had no doubts that he could’ve.

Now settling down from the adrenaline, Fubuki shivered. “N-no, of course not…” He blinked, almost seeming as if he was unsure of himself. “I-I hit their toes… or f-fingers, if I couldn’t calculate where the toes w-were in the shoes... they would hurt, but are likely to be the least lethal place to be shot… Chances are, they’ll survive.” He ended steadily, shedding back into himself and rocking along the seat.

Some FBI portion of him nodded in approval, but Rye the sniper couldn’t possibly agree with such ridiculous sentiment. Coldly, he answered, even if it was towards a ten-year-old kid. “Stupid. Aim for the head or heart when you shoot, or else you’re just playing a game for naught.”

Surprisingly, Fubuki gave a small, sad chuckle that made Rye raise an eyebrow. “Gin-nii-sama a-always says that to m-me too… But,” his voice became strong in a heartbeat, “I don’t want to kill anyone, ever. It's just how I feel, and nothing short of death will change that easily…”

Green eyes widened, before they slimmed again. 

Bitterly, Rye chuckled. I once thought that too.

 

===

 

When they actually arrived at the shooting grounds, Gin was impatiently waiting for the kid with what looked like pure annoyance, smoking a cigarette in his mouth. Seeing Rye’s car drive up ultimately surprised him- those grey-green eyes that haunt so many people’s souls widened by just the smallest margin and Rye could’ve sworn he saw a blood vessel pop as Gin spat right in front of Rye’s vehicle.

That spiteful look barely retracted until Fubuki jumped out of a car, and strangely enough, he seemed more inclined to be friendly with Gin and less so with Rye, which was ironic. A kid trusted Gin, the psychopathic murderer and higher up in an illegal organization more than Rye, a FBI agent infiltrating in order to stop the dark deeds the organization was doing. But a kid growing up and spending time in such an organization surely knew nothing about how indeed wrong it was.

“Gin-nii-sama-!” Fubuki’s blue eyes brightened and he hid behind Gin instantly, clutching the dark fabric as he stared a breath of relief at Rye. And the latter’s head went through a series of emotions circulating one thought: Gin wasn’t going to kill the kid? That’s a surprise.

Instead, Gin didn’t seem to mind it too much except for an ignorant huff and just glared daggers at the long-haired man. “Rye,” he said maliciously, voice flatter than usual, if that was possible. “What are you doing here?” The bloodlust in his eyes was unfaltering and could have given any lesser man the chills.

Rye just raised an eyebrow. So it seemed that Gin didn’t know that they were partnered up (however unwillingly) for this mission.

“U-uhm, Gin-nii-sama, Sharon-nee-sama said we’d be partnered up for a mission…” as if plucking the works right out of Rye’s mouth, Fubuki said, glancing up with some sort of awareness yet not really as he only clutched the dark fabric harder. Gin, in response, only scoffed with something akin to a cross between amusement and shadowy fury, but the only expression on his face seemed almost nonexistent. “That woman, eh? Hmph. Brat, know well- that man,” he pointed at Rye, “-cannot be trusted.” He announced blatantly.

“W-why?” The boy’s voice shook as if he didn’t want to know. But Gin only shook his head. “If you ask me, he’s the prime example of a filthy rat crawling through our organization.”

Rye’s facial expression didn’t change. He was used to Gin’s accusations by now, despite being partners for such a long time. But what did make Rye tense was when Fubuki put a hand in his pocket- about to bring out that little box with the “NOC LIST” paper in it that would surely bring not only Mikalus’ doom, but perhaps Rye’s own as well.

However, Fubuki’s face changed in an instant and quickly he pulled out without taking anything- to which Rye was kind of surprised. “What is it?” Gin said impatiently at the movement, but Fubuki gave a sheepish little smile: “Oh- erm, it was nothing.”

Gin sneered, but didn’t say much more. “Well, get over there.” he snapped at Fubuki in a voice slightly gentler than when he talked with Rye, and that caused a bit of surprise to spread through the dark-haired sniper. “You’ll be using this shotgun- it's a classic, break-action one, four times for the scope.” He tossed the large gun to Fubuki after a quick introduction, who could barely catch it with his small hands.

The kid ran a hand over the handle and then hovered his fingers beyond the trigger, before hastily following Gin, with Rye just staying where he was, curious on what kind of “shooting practice” the two would do as Fubuki evidently could shoot foregonely well. 

Unsurprisingly, Gin didn’t let Fubuki wear any protective equipment. It made full sense, since in real life, rarely would you get protective eyewear or earplugs when shooting an enemy.

Still, it was clear that Fubuki hadn't ever used a shotgun, or definitely not used to using one, before that point as he pulled up the gun, slung it over his hands and tried to hold it steadily. It came as no surprise to Rye to find that it was far too heavy for him to hold up straight and well without it shaking. Nevertheless, it was interesting that Gin gave that kind of shotgun to Fubuki- after all, a break-action shotgun was the safest option. Something that didn’t seem like Gin’s style.

But what was of Gin’s style was the way he started off the shooting practice machine without warning, yet something translucent covered the entire area- something like an air of strangeness that sent shivers down Rye’s already cold spine. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the monotone world has become more colorful in a heartbeat- the grey faded into true colors and green eyes widened in surprise as the bang from the gun released and before he knew it, the bullet had already fired.

On the other hand, Fubuki just kept steady and shot another bullet at an incoming target that inexplicably started rushing towards him for no apparent reason- just another of Gin’s maneuvers, Rye guessed. And it hit, the sound of the paper target being ripped was proof enough of that. However, instead of rushing towards the ending to see how well he’s done, Fubuki just reloaded his shotgun.

That was right. A barrel for a classic break-action shotgun can only fire up to two shots- used for its precision and power, less for practicality.

He shot again and again, and each time Rye could swear that his world was becoming just a bit less colorless- until it all died down as the kid finally put down the gun after who knows how long. Fubuki was sweating, looking off into the distance with shockingly translucent blue eyes.

Rye could clearly hear himself gulp.

Finally, Gin came down from the control room and threw a slightly dirty towel onto Fubuki’s back, who looked up in surprise and something akin to childish affection. It- another shock of the day- didn’t make Gin look sick to his core and the silver-haired man just looked away as Fubuki wiped himself down.

“Shot alright,” Gin offered up at the end of the kid’s tired sigh. “I would say full marks, but let’s not forget how you took a step forward from the line.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “...Oh, so you caught that…?” Fubuki’s voice sounded almost like his hope faltered in a way that could make nearly anyone choke on sadness. Except for Gin, apparently, who just grinned manically and pointed a handgun right to the little kid’s forehead. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t, brat?”

Fubuki just tiredly laughed, in a way that was nervously sheepish, and then the peacefulness of a psychopath interacting with a little kid faded away as Gin caught the gaze of Rye. And then his face distorted into one of utter disgust, which should be Rye’s reaction. “ You’re still here? Would’ve thought you would have scurried off into your little mousehole by now, Rye.” He spat out that last name in a way that worked well with how the gun which was just pointed at Fubuki’s head was now aimed straight at Rye’s.

Rye didn’t respond until Gin’s voice became even colder. “Answer me.” The threat was more apparent as he shifted his gun higher to be at Rye’s eyes.

“Vermouth told me to keep an eye on the boya. ” He tightened his lips, eyes looking emotionlessly at Gin’s. The silver-haired man’s disgust only seemed to grow as he repeated what Rye said: “ Boya?”

His reaction would’ve almost made Rye laugh, if not for the circumstances, and Gin just sighed and pushed Fubuki to him, whose blue eyes looked with fear just at the sight of Rye, strangely enough. “Brat, shooting’s over for today. I can’t stand to see your little ‘supervisor's play anymore.”

“O-okay,” Fubuki shivered as he went obediently to Rye, who didn’t bother to look at the kid.

And then they exited the scene with a ‘tch’ing Gin, who Rye saw kick a can and aimed it at Rye’s head- if not for the fact that the sniper dodged. And he could hear what the silver-haired killer muttered, softly, “ I swear it seems like more than half of his organization is rats at this point.”

Rye smiled dangerously.

And then they went to the car, of which Fubuki stretched in the backseat and yawned kind of gently, before putting a hand in his pocket that piqued Rye’s curiosity. “So,” he started. “Why didn’t you give that scrap to Gin?” He said, voice almost curious in tone despite how he was internally planning the kid’s death should he have given a bad answer.

Vermouth would be upset, but that woman couldn’t do too much to Rye that moment.

“I-I knew if I gave it to Gin-nii-sama, K-Kiyoshi-san would be dead…” He answered. The euphoria from before had clearly died down and the boy continued on. “I… want to save him, if he deserves it… but even so, I want to know the truth.”

“The truth, huh…” Rye echoed, almost sadly, and then laughed. “It’s almost like you’re the dark version of Sherlock Holmes, boya. The truth of the matter is, this world is too dark and too blurry for something as light as the ‘truth’. We’d be better off living our own lives, in the way we want to.

Wait-!

Rye’s eyes widened at the words he just said, but before he could react he could hear the little kid’s voice lighten up from behind him: “That’s it! That’s how he committed the crime! That… it explains everything-!” He grasped to himself, bright eyes faintly twinkling.

“It seems like boya also reached the same conclusion?” Rye confirmed, leaning back into his seat and grabbing out for a cigarette. 

Fubuki’s head shot up, and the little, mousy kid who was afraid earlier seemed to have dissipated in a moment’s notice. “Yes! Now, could we go back to confront Kiyoshi-san!?” He said excitedly, tugging on Rye’s sleeve and the latter started before recovering. 

He agreed, but kept his eyes on what caught his attention the most. “Alright. However, about the NOC list…” He muttered, as Fubuki’s eyes brightened up more. “No worries- I have a plan to retrieve the NOC list! There’s only one way it wouldn’t work- and I suspect it will.”

“Is that so?” Rye questioned, rocking into his seat. “Then let’s hear this plan.”

He stepped on the gas pedal after turning his key.

 

====

 

The hardest part of the plan was where to track down Mikalus, but it was surprisingly easy- it turned out that the organization had kept a tab on the man, inquiring of his newly done position in just a few moments. Someone must have kept a bug, a location transmitter, onto Mikalus without the man’s knowledge, and it didn’t take long for Rye and Fubuki to reach the new location.

They knocked on the door- to no response, and that was when Rye’s lock-picking skills came into use for the second time that day and he picked the door open in an instant, watching the figure in the room turn his head immediately.

Surprisingly, Mikalus sat back in the seat of his room- touching the glass of the window in his room, as if he found that the police would catch the two of them, Rye and Kirsche, for sure. It did not happen as he planned as evidently, the two he sent the police after came crashing into the room, guns blazing.

“Mikalus Kiyoshi-san…” Fubuki said softly, holding up the handgun high, pointing straight at the man in question’s face. “Would you give over the NOC list, per any chance?”

The man’s eyes flickered between multiple stages, before setting for one of a masked calmness. “Organization people,” he said gently, with a voice of sweetness, “What makes you think I have a NOC list?”

“This.” Fubuki pulled out the little scrap of paper kept inside the box, holding it well between his hands as the gloved fingers twirled it in front of Mikalus’ face while keeping a gun steady, aimed towards the man’s head. “You have it, don’t you? Hand it over.”

Mikalus just smirked. “I have the police stationed just a room away. What makes you think I couldn’t call them here in an instant? You’ll both be caught, dear friends.” He seemed nothing like the crying, softhearted man from earlier- but that was to be expected, because Rye knew what the man had done, and what the weapons seller would be doing if he could. He was a disgusting human being, and people like him made Rye close his eyes and shake his head in response.

Sometimes, he was reminded of how he actually preferred America over Japan, which was a rare thought to have.

“So?” Rye scoffed. “What do you think is faster? My bullet, or your voice? And you know, our organization… We always find a way to get out. Especially because the two of us- we’re not the nobodys you’ve been having trades with, Mikalus Kiyoshi-kun.” He snickered in a way that surely would cause nightmares as Mikalus’ eyes widened, and then blinked in an attempt to look calm. “Hold on, let’s talk about this-!”

“And besides,” Fubuki supported curiously, putting back the paper into the case and into his pocket once more. “Who do you think the police will actually be arresting? You do realize we’ve found out the truth behind your… Family’s death?”

If it was possible, Mikalus’ face paled even more and he backed up as far as he could only to have it be pressed up against the glass, and his smile was now a bit shaky. “W-what do you mean by that?” He asked, raising his hand to wipe a droplet of sweat from his face.

“Well, first,” Fubuki began to illustrate the circumstances. “The truth is: You, Mikalus Kiyoshi-san: You’re the one behind your family’s burning, am I right? And It was all to get back your stolen identity.”

The look of alarm on Mikalus’ face was proof enough as he stammered multiple things, but Rye didn’t want him to speak any further and proceeded to put a gloved hand over the man’s mouth. There. The silence that was received was much better than hearing this man ramble on. He looked to Fubuki to continue, and the boy- who was still shaking, just a little bit- gulped but continued.

“You and your younger brother, Mikalus and Michael Kiyoshi, were identical twins and nobody could tell you apart except for one little detail: Michael was allergic to peanuts. That first family photo: it was taken when you both were a kid and in the photo, Michael showed his left-handedness. However, something changed in the second photo that you showed us: Michael became right-handed. Why do you think that would be?”

Mikalus didn’t answer, but just looked at Fubuki with fright in his eyes.

Still, Rye answered. “...Simply put… They switched places. Identical twins… nobody could tell the difference when Michael became ‘Mikalus’ and Mikalus became ‘Michael’.” He laughed bitterly at the irony.

“Yes. And then afterwards… Michael had Mikalus to pretend to have his peanut allergy by threatening Mikalus that Michael would die of peanuts if not so, which would have gotten Mikalus into a lot of trouble… and he himself just had to avoid peanuts at all costs for nobody to see the truth. This worked for a while, until eventually, Mikalus decided that he wanted to be the older brother again, the one who just figured out that he would be inheriting a huge company and all the vast benefits that came from it . So he forced his brother to eat peanuts and locked him in the second child’s room to die.”

Rye continued after Fubuki shivered, keeping a steady gun to the present Mikalus’ shaking eyes. “But then… Mikalus realized that it was the second child’s room, Michael’s room, and because Michael always had the peanut allergy, there was an Epinephrine auto injector in the room for Michael. Knowing that Michael wouldn’t die… Mikalus panicked and set the room on fire.”

Fubuki nodded. “But what he didn’t expect was for the fire to spread to the entire house… and everyone in it, except himself for Mikalus had escaped, had died. Now nobody questioned him and Mikalus naturally reclaimed the title as the heir to the company. However, years later- he decided that he wanted to take down the manor he burned down, to remove all the evidence of his crime from it, as the police seemed to have caught wind that something was wrong. And so he went back to the manor- and firstly, took down all paintings of his family, before removing the corpse, causing a very faint peanut smell due to the peanut slowly biodegrading inside Michael’s rotting and burnt corpse, which he had also stuffed with bits of the device that started the fire… and while doing so, he didn’t notice the Epinephrine auto injector in the corner of the room. He also burnt his hands while trying to remove the object that started the fire- and that’s how your hands were burnt like that, yes?” Fubuki pointed at the burnt fingers that Mikalus had.

“W-wait-!” Mikalus struggled out of Rye’s grasp and started but Fubuki did not let him finish.

“Even more so, you were running out of money to take down the manor… it was so huge that it cost you a fortune and you no longer could make enough weapons to sell to our organization… so you got your hands on the NOC list and you’re planning to sell that to our organization, and then hand the organization members who meet you to the police- giving you a good name with the policeman and gaining a large sum of money as profit both at the same time.”

Mikalus was in shock. Until he pushed Rye off, and then got his hand held firmly before he struggled with his words: “BUT- BUT I'M TRULY SAD AT MY BROTHER’S…. Death… SO WHY DO YOU HAVE TO ACCUSE ME!?” He screamed at Fubuki who flinched back and hid behind Rye.

“It was all an act, wasn’t it?” Rye pointed out. “So when the police find that we have interacted… We could give the testimony that you truly were upset. That’s why you were listening to us, through the hotel door… You wanted to know our reactions, only to find that we’re organization members. However-!” Rye smirked. “We’re willing to strike a deal.”

As if struck, filthy eyes turned over. “A-a deal?” Mikalus’ ears struck up, and he looked as if admitting he was the evildoer behind the whole thing, and both Rye and Fubuki smiled. Got him . “We won’t tell the organization… you just have to hand over the NOC list. Isn’t that fine and great? You can at least guarantee another day of living, Kiyoshi-san.” Fubuki smiled as sweet as a child, though the gun he was still holding went the other way.

He actually pondered over the deal, eyes flickering up and down, before finally sighing. “What guarantee do I have that you won't…?” He greedily gulped, and this was when Rye sighed and leaned back. All according to the kid’s calculations… he smiled, in a bitter way.

“Easy.” Fubuki sweetly said, lifting the gun from Mikalus’ head. “We’re NOC too. So obviously, we’ll put you under the witness protection program in just a second. The men outside… they’ve known too. Which is why you don’t hear anyone rushing for you, Kiyoshi-san.” And it was a lie, a blatant lie, so transparently obvious- the officers outside were all just knocked out and peacefully sleeping, and in no place would they let a ten-year-old be a NOC agent- but perhaps seeing such intelligence caused that rationality to be thrown out of the window and Mikalus believed it.

“A-Alright,” Mikalus fumbled, and pulled around his pockets before climbing to a safe in the very corner of the room, underneath the floorboards- entering seventeen digits in all before the safe opened, revealing a small memory card. “It’s in here.” He handed it over to Rye, who broke the memory card as soon as he pocketed it. Luckily, Fubuki didn’t seem to take notice and instantly looked behind him. “Now put me under the-!”

Rye finally couldn’t stand it anymore and blew a hole straight into Mikalus’ head.

Fubuki looked at him in shock. “Wait, that wasn’t part of the plan-!” He said, staring down at the now-corpse, bleeding onto the ground and he shivered. “I was going to save him- just hand him over to the police-! Why did you-!?”

Rye blew over the nozzle of the gun. “Sometimes people just can’t be saved, boya.”

 

=====

 

They sat on the edge of the chair in a park after filing in a report to the organization- needless to say, the higher-ups were pleasantly surprised to see they wrapped it all up in a day instead of the predicted two weeks, the papers explaining every detail about Mikalus’ case. His disgusting case, Rye may add, but didn’t bother to as he stared off.

“W-well…” Even after working together, sometimes Fubuki would regain that stuttering, and it made Rye question what was going on. “T-that worked out well, didn’t it… But I don’t agree with your methods. But that’s to be expected, I guess,” Fubuki said gently before Rye responded and something about the atmosphere tensed up immediately. “After all… I’m the organization member Kirsche, and you're an NOC agent..”

At this point, Rye wasn’t even too surprised but flickered his green eyes to the kid who was waving his two legs while sitting on the bench. “...How’d you know…?” He admitted, but even after hiding it for so long- something told him it was fine to say it, just now.

“You always seemed surprised when I said anything about how I feel about saving others… Plus, you were the one who suggested the ‘witness protection program’, classic for a NOC agent. And the brand you smoke- it's the one that’s specially bought in the United States… My guess is that you’re either FBI or CIA. But the clencher was… Well, you got rid of the NOC list instead of giving it over, didn’t you?”

There was a small, wistful smile on Fubuki’s face.

“Hmm.” He confirmed with a gentle smile in return. “Well? Are you going to tell the organization?” Carefreely, Rye asked, lighting a cigarette and watching the smoke drain out.

Like he expected, Fubuki shook his head. “N-no… I feel like… Well, there’s something in my mind that says not to tattle-tail on you… Or maybe it's because, even though you’ve done so many terrible things... I don’t think you’re a bad person, unlike… me…

Rye didn’t answer until much later, letting the two sit in a comfortable silence.

He finally had to break it for something else, the sun ending it's descent and painting the sky nearly crimson purple. “Oi, boya… I have a question for you, too.”

“A-a question?” Fubuki repeated, looking up at Rye, who was focusing on him with emerald eyes and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth as he leaned back into the bench, letting his posture relax. The long, dark hair swished past his shoulders and settled down past his ears, landing in strands on the wood. 

Rye nodded, his hair moving around. “Why’re you afraid of me?” He asked, genuinely curious- the most genuine he’s been all this time as he has been infiltrating this darned organization.

But to his surprise- Fubuki snickered. An unnatural noise that sounded scornful, almost mocking yet fearful in nature. On his high horse, those sapphire blue eyes brought nothing but chills down Rye’s spine- like the coldest of winter days, blowing it's hail down to crash into Rye’s face. 

“Well- it's a secret, so keep this to yourself, okay?” He said childishly, a cute smile curling onto his face despite the harshness of his voice, fingers twirling around and it was the most confident Rye’s seen the kid yet, as if he was a different person entirely. “You see-!”

He bent down next to Rye’s ears and whispered something quietly, and then pulled back with a look of indistinguishable sadness in his eyes. The soft smile was gone as Fubuki spotted a car in the distance and rushed away from Rye, who was contemplating his words. “Coming, Sharon-nee-sama!”

Rye stared at the empty spot where the kid used to be. The peaceful dynamic, gone in an instant.

The words echoed. When did this happen?

“You killed him. My only reason to look ahead, Rye.”

Behind him, Fubuki looked down, feeling a rush of sadness as he forced himself to smile on.

Notes:

Well, thank you to everyone who has made it this far! Coming out with a side story out of everything? No new chapter? Well, the number 13 is kind of interesting so something like this is what happens! Consider these "side stories" as prequels to Caederophobia- kind of. Most will be set in the past, and while these are not necessary to read, they do well to enrich your understanding of the world I have set up.

Honestly, this chapter has been toned down multiple times... oof. Thanks again to Fishy for the support! Her enthusiasm and our conversations about DC keep me going :D

We're starting with Akai, because like... this man gets no screen time (it was originally going to be Kaito but then I decided that man gets enough spotlight in this story and chose to focus on another man with pretty big backstory: Akai. Also, it may have something to do with how rampant I was for the 24th movie.)

Anyways, let us all give a moment of silence for Remembrance Day, which not every country has but is around this time of year for a lot of countries.

Thank you all for reading! I was so focused on the Kudos reaching 200 that I didn't notice that we've reached 5000 hits- could you imagine my surprise!? Thank you all for your continuous support: I appreciate all the hits and kudos, and especially comments!

Notes:

Some might wonder what the title "Caederophobia" means, as it's not a real phobia. In fact, I love this title, and it popped up as I searched for the "fear of killing". It comes from the Latin word "caedere", which means "to cut" or "to kill", attatched to "phobia", the word for fear.

Thank you for reading! Please tell me if there is any mistakes present! I currently have no beta!