CoAi Discord Server Secret Santa 2018 for Froody (Fanfiction or Fanart)

Prompts:
- Warrior Cats
- Alice: Madness Returns
- Spider-Girl: MC2 Universe
- Horror/Murder Mystery
- The Incredibles

Tattooed over her heart.

It was a pretty routine request, Shinichi thought, as he glanced at his emails. A tattoo with the name and image of a loved one: he'd done several by now. Hearing inspector Megure clear his throat next to him, he quickly fired off a short reply before putting his smart phone back in his pocket and focussing on the case at hand. Kogoro had, with a little help, narrowed the lists of suspects down to three. The email slipped out of his mind as he focussed on the case and pondered how best to steer Kogoro away from the obvious scapegoat to the fidgeting man with blood stains, not ketchup, on his sleeves. He didn't mind helping the private investigator, enjoying the thrill of solving a case just as he would through his father's writings, but seeing dead bodies just got his fingers itching inappropriately for his sketchbook.

Shinichi didn't think back to the email until he and Kogoro left the station, the older man driving him in his rented car back to the agency. He was in good spirits, chatting away about how he was going to tell his daughter of today's success. Shinichi smiled, leaning on the window frame next to him as the Tokyo streets flew by. He opened his emails on his phone again. He scrolled past a photo from Hattori showing the latest progress on his back tattoo, back to the request from earlier. Now that the case was resolved, he could fully focus on it.

Ms S. Miyano's message had been straight to the point, with an image helpfully attached. He paused a moment, looking at her email address. Nothing unusual about it really, the bland initial and surname formula used by so many corporations, followed by the domain name of the employer. It was the latter that caught his eye. He knew the name but couldn't recognise where from. It wasn't a household name, yet... Oh well, he'd see what he could pull up on them once he quickly checked the attached image.

The thumbnail of the image file was grayscale and dark, which suited him fine. His style was like that, dark and moody, reminiscent of Penny Dreadful illustrations and various other murder or horror story mediums. He'd been particularly flattered when someone compared one of his drawings to the art from the Alice: Madness Returns video game. That Sonoko meant it as an insult was irrelevant.

As the image loaded, he suddenly realised that this request was not as routine as he'd first believed.

It was a photo of a crime scene. One taken by that annoyingly smug journalist that wanted to put Shinichi on the front of the papers. Shinichi knew this, because Ran was in the picture, next to the body... It was the corpse of Masami Hirota. A shiver ran down his spine, and he recalled now where he'd heard of S. Miyano's employer. They were the elusive corporation that Shinichi had found himself looking into while Ran had been desperately searching for her father's missing client.

His phone beeped, and he found a reply on his screen to his earlier hasty agreement.
"Perfect. Would Saturday afternoon be a good time to discuss the details further?"

Well. He couldn't back out now.

There was a sharp short knock on the door.

She arrived on time, not a minute too soon or too late. Shinichi appreciated that in a person, especially when he was sharing his working space with a messy detective for hire who'd slack off the moment his favourite idol was on television. Thankfully, today said detective was at the races, giving Shinichi free reign to clean and tidy what he could of the place.

He opened the door.

"Shinichi Kudo," he introduced himself, hands oddly clammy as he clasped her cool fingers. "Tattoo artist. Welcome."

"Shiho Miyano." She nodded. At his gesture, she went to sit on the armchair used by Kogoro's and Shinichi's clients alike. It gave him an opportunity to take in her appearance. Her bob of light brown hair bounced slightly as she settled down, smoothing out the creases in her black dress skirt. Her eyes looked up to him with a sharpness he hadn't expected.

"Can I get you some coffee?" He offered, finding his throat had gone dry. At her nod he vanished into the kitchenette area and took a deep breath. He'd been expecting a middle-aged office lady, but that woman, Shiho Miyano, looked to be about the same age as him. As the coffee machine dispensed his drink, he revised what he knew of her, which was very little, and what he knew of her request, which honestly intrigued him beyond words.

Grabbing a cup for himself, he took her beverage through, forcing himself to act confident. The grin came easily enough. After all, he thought, as he put down his cup to grab the folder in which he'd printed out her email and image reference, she was here asking him to do what he loved: ink skin.

"Is it usual for a tattoo artist to share his premises with a detective agency?" The woman asked, arching her brow as she lifted the cup to her lips. She took a small, quick sip and put it down. It would need to cool a little.

"No, not really," Shinichi replied honestly, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. His waistcoat was crisply pressed, and he'd opted for a bowtie today instead of his usual necktie. His mother had made sure to instil in him at an early age the importance of appearances. Not that she particularly approved of tattoos in general... He smirked. "But you already know that I'm not your usual tattoo artist. You wouldn't have emailed me otherwise."

"That is true," she said, smirking slightly as she eyed Kogoro's desk by the window. Shinichi had done his best, but it still looked disorganised and worn down.

"So, what made you choose me?" Shinichi asked, steepling his hands under his chin. There were many tattoo parlours in town that were more approachable after all. Had she got a recommendation off one of his colleagues? "Did you get any tattoos done before?"

"No, I haven't." She said matter of fact, her hand only pausing momentarily as it brought the now cooler coffee to her lips. "I... I researched your work, found it to my liking... and here we are."

Shinichi could sense there was a lot left unsaid in her reply. The pauses in her previously articulate speech, the way she stared at the black coffee in her cup. He recalled the nature of her request and, after a quick sip of his own beverage, he pulled out the papers from the file.

"Your request," he said slowly, "leads me to believe there's more to this than just liking my art."

He revealed the printout of the image she'd sent him.

Her breath caught noticeably, and she sighed, leaning back into the chair with some emotion flashing across her face. Was it defeat? Relief? Her voice came out a quiet whisper. "What do you think?"

He paused, mulling over his response.
"The person in this photo... Their name wasn't Akemi." He felt her glare burning at his skin, but he continued. "She introduced herself as Masami Hirota, and she visited the detective Agency last month. You clearly feel strongly about this photo. What was Miss Hirota's link to you and this Akemi?"

He finished his question, because he had to, but he could tell just by looking at her that this was not something she felt comfortable talking about. He pulled the photo away. "Look, I don't need to know your reasons for getting a tattoo, but it is my duty to make sure you get one you won't regret. Most..." He swallowed, trying to not say something insulting. "Most people don't want permanently etched on their skin the dead body of someone they knew."

"You're right..." She said. She put her coffee down, her fringe obscured her face as she stared at her hands, gripped her knees. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

She went from sitting to standing in the matter of seconds. Her bag was slung over her shoulder and she was striding through the door before he could even process that she was leaving.

"Hey! Hey, hang on..." He hurriedly placed his coffee mug back on the table. His legs stumbled as he stood and leapt for the door. He didn't know why. He could just let her leave. But if he did...

He had that feeling in his gut, that annoying instinct that he just couldn't ignore. Her eyes in that split second, as she'd lifted them up and delivered her goodbye... They drilled into his mind.

She was fast, he'll hand her that. Shinichi's years of football training came in handy, especially since the rain was on. He squinted through the raindrops, catching mere glimpses of her running figure. It was only thanks to his legs being longer, he felt, that he managed to start gaining on her. Mud splashed underfoot. Pedestrians with umbrellas scattered. A block, two blocks, three blocks before she tripped, stumbled, fell on her knees. He found her balled up, half leaning against a familiar gate as small sobs wracked her frame. Shinichi was soaked. He gasped for breath as he knelt beside her. Her knees were scraped, her suit as ruined as his waistcoat.

"Hey..." Shinichi didn't know what to say. He put his hand on her shoulder, hoping to get some response from her. "Miss Miyano?"

The name got her to look up. The rain plastered her hair to her forehead, the sides of her face. Shinichi's breath caught once more in his throat. She hiccupped.

"Her name wasn't Masami..." She bit out. The words shook as she did, her hands reached out to grab the front of his waistcoat. "Her... Her name... was Akemi! Ah... Akemi Miyano."

Understanding flashed through Shinichi's mind. He grew quiet, misery overcoming him. Sisters then... He felt her warm tears soak into the already wet fabric of his shirt. There was nothing he could tell her to help. He'd been there, he could've... Maybe if he'd been a proper detective instead of a tattooist...

Cats started screeching in an alley nearby. They screamed like warriors, fighting the elements. It grated at his ears and he grit his teeth. Propriety be damned. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around the sobbing woman's shoulders. Shiho Miyano stilled at his touch, but it was gentle. She didn't push away.

"Miyano..." He said, voice soft, softer than he knew himself capable of. When she didn't respond he called out her first name, feeling ridiculously bold. "Shiho. Let's get you out of the rain."

The Incredibles were playing on the TV when she came out of the guest room's shower. He knew because he heard the water shutting off just before Elastigirl made her dramatic entrance. She would find clean clothes from his mother's wardrobe on the bed. They would probably be a bit loose, so he provided a belt as well. He sat awkwardly on the sofa, the preposterously large screen only just helped him to still the anxious energy coursing through him. Out of sheer reflex, he reached for a sketchbook lying nearby. His pencil flew across the paper, its grain provided a helpful scratching noise. Seeing the graphite take form helped soothe him. It took him a moment to realise what he was drawing, by which time there was a presence over his shoulder, watching his every stroke. His sketching found a natural end point. It depicted the girl, Masami, no, Akemi, as he remembered her. He did away with the comically large glasses she donned, now in his mind part of an obvious disguise. The pigtails were gone as well, and he focussed on giving her the mature look she'd had when last... when he'd last seen her alive.

"Yes." Shiho's voice was clear, like the sun. "That's what I want." He heard, unsaid, the word need.

"Where?" Shinichi asked, unsure. He didn't dare turn back, wasn't sure what emotion he would see on her face, whether he was even allowed to see it.

"Over my heart." She said, sweeping around the couch to sit beside him, two cups of coffee in her hands. There was a smirk on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but, he felt, one day it could.

He found himself wanting to see that day.

She completed the required paperwork. The deposit was paid. They agreed to a session the following Saturday. Not at the agency, Shinichi knew from previous experience that having a young woman in anything resembling an undressed state was not a good idea with Kogoro Mouri around.

Shiho Miyano was business-like in taking off her top, not even bothering with the vanity screen he'd set up. She folded it nicely on a nearby table. Her lace bra followed. He handed her a towel for her modesty, which she draped over her shoulders as she took her seat in the reclining chair. She looked away as he grabbed his pen, the inks, pulled up his stool. His reference was sat on her lap, her hands were clasped loosely on the arms of the chair. His eyes roved over the curve of her breast, the scars on her skin, the rise and fall of her breaths. The sight was mesmerising, entrancing in a way that he... He inhaled, counted to three, and cleared his mind. He was a professional. Her skin was but his canvas. His gaze sharpened down to the nib of his pen, the lines he began to sketch along her skin. He ignored the hiss of her breath, the tightening of her hands on the edge of his vision. He only paused as he lifted his pen, reaching for his ink. She had made a sound nearly like a whimper.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She nodded quickly, keeping quiet. "I can put some music on, if you want?"

She chuckled drily.
"It's alright, thank you. Please keep going."

He nodded, resumed his work. He was in the flow of it now, the flow of Akemi's hair meshed nicely with the curve under Shiho's breast. He started humming as he smoothed the skin to work on the detail of an ear. He'd nearly finished the line of her nose when a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Maybe we should have the music on. It would stop your toneless humming."

He stared blankly at the look she gave him. Her brow was arched, her eyes squinting in disapproval. She still hadn't let go of him as he sat back, blinking.
"Hey!" He blushed, then pouted, finally catching on to what had been said. He put his tool down, frustrated. He had to wrestle his hand out of her grip. "Ugh, fine whatever."

He stood and went to put the sound system on. He'd already known that the beauty of her uncovered chest was going to haunt his nights. That victorious smirk though... He heard something faintly like a giggle as he started his playlist and adjusted the volume. He could bet that she found his choice of music amusing somehow. What a puzzle...

Her hand was covering her mouth as he turned back to her. The hand she'd grabbed his wrist with rested just under the lines he'd been working on. He suddenly noticed how red the skin had gotten. Of course.

He still had a little to do before he could call an end to the session, but he'd be sure to make it quick.
"You have to let me know if it hurts," he said, giving her a sharp look as the Kamen Yaiba theme tune kicked off in full.

She sighed.
"Of course."

He resumed his work, noticing now the twinges when his needle lingered too long, the sharp intake of breath when his fingers brushed along a bit of inflamed skin.
Never once does she say it hurt.

It took another few sessions for him to complete the artwork. Hours spent together under the hum of the needle, long days between as they waited for the skin to heal enough for the next round. She opened to him, slowly, slightly, and he to her, he realised, more than he had to anyone... More even than Ran, his childhood friend, whose back he had adorned with a beautiful orchid.

Shiho alone now knew that he preferred DC to Marvel, that Superman was his idol, that he'd sneak to his neighbour's house to read and draw in peace when his parents were around. Shiho alone knew of his frustrations in getting a Private Investigator prone to napping to do his darn job, his studio being in the agency more as a thank you to Ran for giving him his first major portfolio piece than to avoid his parents' disapproval. Heavens, she even knew about the daft little bespectacled kid in a Sherlock Holmes outfit he'd tattooed on his own chest. She had glimpsed it, that day in the rain. The ink had shown through his soaked shirt.

The only thing she didn't know was how attached he was getting. She couldn't know.

The last session was subdued. There wasn't much left to do, and she had come in with a dark look in her eyes. No teasing about his taste in music today. Work, she said, not elaborating. She never did. He asked her about the latest in Spider-Girl, her comic of choice. Had Mayday survived the explosion in the last issue? Shiho shook her head, saying she hadn't had time. There were tears in her eyes.

Shinichi kept quiet after that.

He nearly felt like crying himself when he realised that the tattoo was finished. She'd already paid him the final sum owed. She would be leaving, never to come back. He led her to a mirror where she could see his handiwork. She gasped, the only smile of the day bloomed on her face. Her eyes were still melancholy as she turned to him, bowed her head. Her voice was breathless. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he half-lied. He knows it is his greatest work. He also knows he won't be able to share it.

She got dressed the same way she undressed: efficiently and swiftly. She paused on her way to the door.

"Kudo..." She said. He drew nearer, fighting the hunch in his back. He just wanted to crawl into a ball.

She grabbed him by the tie.

Shinichi's brain switched off as he felt her lips meet his. Bewildered, he took in the scent of her, her perfume. Her eyes were closed, small droplets forming in her eyelashes. She was on tiptoe, he thought idly, his hands finally moving, reaching for her waist, finding her hips. He relaxed, closed his eyes in turn. Shiho's lips were soft, softer than they had any right to be, with her sharp wit and quick sarcasm. He never wanted them to leave his.

But leave they did.
"Goodbye, Shinichi." She whispered. He hadn't even opened his eyes by the time she slipped out of his grasp. His tie bounced upon his chest as he looked up to an open door, no Shiho.

Shinichi stood, confused, staring at nothing. Had this been a dream? But no, he could feel it, the dread rising in his heart. Shiho was gone... No, he couldn't let it end like this. His gut told him. If he did nothing... She might...

"Shiho!" He cried out. Shinichi sprinted out of the door, not even bothering to close it. She was nowhere to be seen.

A month passed before she found him.

He was sat in his neighbour's house, avoiding his parents. Crumpled sketchbooks were sprawled around him, full of scribbled designs and idle marks. Shinichi was frustrated. He hadn't been able to focus on any of his drawings since she left his house that day. He had searched the streets, hoping to at least get one last glimpse of her, to quell the worry in his heart. The next day, after a sleepless night, Shinichi had sought out her office. The building was rubble. Fire, the neighbours said, started the night before, lucky not to take out any other buildings with it. Their words sent a chill down his spine.

He searched high and low for her. It took two weeks for him to find her home. Empty, of course. Ran started to worry about him. Kogoro, of all people, offered to help.

The professor's house was the only place where he felt able to vent his frustrations, his worries, without feeling judged. The old man would nod sagely, make him a coffee, and just listen. He'd provide a silly distraction if Shinichi got stuck too deep in his head: a gadget to figure out, a blueprint design to embellish, a comic book to read...

"It's been a month, Shinichi," the old man said, shaking his head slightly. "You need to keep on living. You need to be able to face her with your head held high the next time you meet."

Shinichi knew he was right. He knew of the professor's own bitter sweet romance, a sweetheart he seemed unable to reconnect with, despite numerous attempts. He prayed that would not be his own fate.

The gods had a strange way of answering his prayers.

Shiho blinked. Her vision was blurry from the pain in her limbs, the cold air, the snow chilling her feet. It took her a moment to realise that she was on the ground. She must have collapsed. She coughed.

"Hey, hey..." A voice said. "I've got you." She felt warm hands grasping her shoulders. That voice...

She remembered now. The young man's stunned shout as she'd knocked at his neighbour's window. She had been so relieved to find him, safe and sound... She chuckled. She was a wreck.

"Hey," she whispered. She tried to smile, but the wound on her cheek made it hurt. "I... I found you."

And she had. She had found the tattooist who'd somehow managed to tattoo hope into her heart. She would have been content to let her employers do away with her and her little rebellion, if it hadn't been for him.

"Idiot," he grumbled. He moved his hand to apply pressure to the wound on her shoulder. "You leave with barely a goodbye, and then you show up full of holes? I looked for you, you know?"

Shiho rolled her eyes. The ground was becoming distinctly uncomfortable.
"You not going to invite me in then?"

Shinichi laughed out loud at that, and for the first time since Akemi's death, Shiho felt her smile reach her eyes.

End.

Author's note: Imagine my face when half the prompts were fandoms I barely knew. Hope I managed to put in adequate references nevertheless! Also loved the opportunity to weave this AU together. Really nice to write Shinichi as the one pining for a change, haha! Many thanks to FS too for proof reading this.
Merry Christmas!