Warning for implied violence, lots of cursing, implications of relationships, autistic main character. Please tell me if I need to rate this higher or add warnings.


Chapter One - Stakeout

The big boss calls rarely, but she always answers when he does. Even when she's dripping wet from a shower and making sure the water doesn't boil over. The voice module is grating to her ears, she could be getting his gender wrong at this point for all she knows.

"You want me to get close to a kid? He's sixteen." She doesn't say she won't do it of course, no one does that and lives. "Seventeen," she corrects herself after reading over the newspaper. "Seventeen years old and seen more dead bodies than a mortician. Is that even safe?"

"He might be useful. He's an observant detective."

"Apparently." Useful means a threat. Useful means disposable. If he wanted the kid, it would be asset.

Still, Akemi agrees. What harm could it do? She has plenty of blood on her already. And again, you can't say no in this job unless something conflicts, in which case you still don't say no, you say yes, but and lay out the problem and keep walking. The problem is usually resolved within days or you're left to.

And if it's the big boss, she really can't say no. Which is good. She never really wants to anyway. The less her baby sister knows about how deep she really is, the better.

So she sets to finishing her dinner, folds the paper away, and turns the TV on loud to a mindless gossip channel, away from the teenage detective's face already there.


Finding him isn't hard. She'd gone to Teitan not too long ago, and their uniforms are such an ugly shade of periwinkle she could see it in her dreams.

She sets herself up at the bench across the street and listens through her headphones, writing out grocery lists and book lists to review. Things to bop her sister about and excuses to give the guard dog to get him to let her out of the cage for a while.

Fuck Gin. Fuck Vodka. Little bottom feeders, threatening to sneak up the pack for nothing more than glory and more blood. She pops a mint to get the memory smell of cigarette out of her throat. And they wanted her baby sister. Akemi shudders to think of what they might do with her if she was ever too close. Or if she hadn't already been.

Why the boss wants them to live, she doesn't know. But it won't be for much longer. The ice just needs to get a little thinner for her to crack it.

(Rebellion seeds aren't just seeds. They're already sprouting by the time we feel them.)

When she runs out of mindless tasks, she sets to work on her alibi. Her lies. She's not as good a liar as Shiho, she takes a while and memorizes more slowly, but hers are easier to believe.

When the bell rings, she goes and he never sees her.

He doesn't have to.


Kudo Shinichi is a sadistic child psychologist's wet dream.

Stopping a kidnapping at four, chasing down mysteries at seven, solving a case on a plane in midair, the list only goes on. He's got so many symptoms of autism, Akemi keeps wondering how much she can dig to get a hold of his medical records or if it got recorded at all. They'd probably say the kid's just had a psychotic break from toddlerhood and is just recovering now or something.

The gossip on the news rags alternated between extolling his genius and mocking his age, his inexperience, his swelled head, cursing his lack of empathy or regard for the accused.

Idiots, she thinks, smiling grimly to herself. The murderers who want sympathy are the most pathetic. They don't need sympathy, they need not to get caught.

Which these ones were if a prodigy could find them.

High school student with fame and prestige? Easy to grab the attention of. She's seen his home on casual walks, giant and lavish and unnecessarily absurd. Probably packed with riches and covered in dust. Maybe four rooms used total. It must be terrible.

All she has to do is wait for him to read the paper.

The call comes within a week of posting the ad. Most people don't worry about it, do it themselves, but a cocky boy with too much space and not enough time would eventually have no choice.

"Hello?" she greets like she doesn't know. (she does, his number's been blasted across the news by more idiots). "How can I help you?"

"Hello, my name is Kudo Shinichi, I'm calling about that ad in the paper for a Miyano-san?" His voice is quieter than she expects, solemn, contained, but a hint of that cocky teenage boy she expects. "Are you still looking for work?"

"Yes!" she squeaks and not because she had forgotten to use an alias. She'd asked and been approved, seeing as no one cared who Miyano Akemi was. "Oh! You're the Kudo Shinichi, aren't you?"

He laughs, a little less wary, a little more teenager. "Yeah, I guess, but uh, I didn't really call about that. Are you still interested in the job?"

"Oh yes!" She pulls out a pen for her paper. "Wait till I tell my sister! She'll be so jealous! When can we meet for an interview? And where?"

He tells her, still laughing a little, but the sound sounds a bit forced now.

And Akemi continues to smile.


He doesn't meet her alone. There's a girl his age at another table with her friend and they're looking over at the two of them like something will explode or clothes will start flying off.

Kudo Shinichi, dressed neatly in his school uniform, merely looks annoyed about it all. He's very readable.

Thankfully, Akemi's perfectly non-descript as a person, barring her lighter hair but her sister is also cursed with that so it's not a big deal. They look like their mother enough.

"Hello, Kudo-san!" she greets, bowing at him. "It's nice to meet you in person. And your, erhm," she looks back and away. "Fangirls?"

Shinichi nearly chokes mid bow. "Hah! Those two! No, they're my classmates. Ran lives near me and thinks I'm about to get pulled into a sex trafficking ring."

You have the face for it, she thinks but doesn't say. "They must care about you an awful lot. Please take a seat!" She gushes a little bit more as he does so, for effect. He doesn't seem to pay it much mind, merely looks at the menu before she falls silent. Then he looks her in the eye and nods, as if having determined now is the time for a response.

"We've known each other since we were kids."

"Ah that makes sense." Mild wrinkle but no big deal. "So! About the house!"

Shinichi nods. "Well, I usually do it myself, sometimes with Ran, but it's been easier when I do it. But… well." His face twists with annoyance. "I keep getting cases and so I come home and have to do all my homework, so I've kept little areas clean but…"

"It's piling up." When he nods she nods back sympathetically. "That was me in college for ages. You adjust. But for now, since you're looking after the place, it's better to be safe than sorry right?"

"Yeah!" He smiles now and it is a nice smile, It's all earnest and endearing. Shiho would eat him. "And Ran over there, the brunette, she volunteered but she has to look after her dad so like…" He shrugs helplessly, face flushing slightly. "I don't want to inconvenience her more, you know?"

Not a wrinkle anymore. She can use this. He's so transparent. "Aw, that's really sweet. I'm glad that's not in the papers."

His flush deepens for a moment and then he sobers, sincerity in his soul. "So am I." He leans closer and says, "Also, um, do you mind if I ask you a few questions now?"

She blushes and nods. "Of course, of course!"

"Good because your hands don't carry the smell from powdered gloves, those slacks are too nice and well ironed to be casual wear, which means you had a fair amount of money in college to not work. You may need something to do but not something to keep you alive. Your fingers are long, so you studied at least one instrument, probably clarinet based on the indents of your fingerpads and the lack of the shelf on your chin. Your hair smells faintly of cherries so you were dressing up for this. Your tone on the phone was more like a teenager but here you speak to me like an adult." He grins, cheek in his eyes. "You're not really a fan of me, are you?"

Akemi doesn't mean to smile but she does. "No, but I think I might like you, Kudo-san!"

Shinichi doesn't lean in his chair, but he straightens, like a child who remembers he's in a public place. "Call me Shinichi or I'll think you want my dad, So, what do you know about book care?"

Three hours and a casual lunch later, and she has the job, she's sure.

She also has Kudo Shinichi's interest, which could be good and bad.


A/N: Look it's a crack idea and didn't leave me alone. So far I've got three fics to this universe's name, and no clue what it's going to after that. For now, enjoy fic one!