Author Note: Shiho is probably my favorite female anime character of all time. I was dismayed that there were so few stories out there dedicated to her. So, I decided to write something for her myself (that may or may not be a good thing). It started out as merely some Haibara introspection, but it evolved into a semi Conan/Ai story. I only use pronouns in this story because I was going for a specific effect; we'll see how well it worked. Without further ado…
While the Rain Falls
by the Kaitou Magician
Rain fell in sheets across the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. It pounded the sidewalks and hid the world from the view.
It had been raining that day. That day when the fateful shot rang out and her entire world seemed to disappear. That day when her last remaining family was killed and her entire world seemed to lose any hope or grace it possessed.
It was her fault. The guilt rested like a heavy burden upon her heart. If she had not worked for the Black Organization, Akemi would still be alive. If she had not been a prodigy in science, the Black Organization would never have forced her into their labs. If her parents had not sold out to them, she never would have been under watch in the first place. Ifs and pointed fingers, yet when all was said and done, it was undeniably her fault. No matter what Agasa or anyone else said.
Around Tokyo, the rain continued to fall.
It had been raining that day too. That day when she was sentenced to death herself and locked deep within the dark heart of the organization, waiting to be murdered. That day when she had decided to make a final stand and commit suicide, only to unwittingly save herself.
The odds of life were not fair. That she, creator of a poison that had already killed many, should live and her sister, innocent in everything, should die. Akemi had ruined her own name in hopes to free her little sister. Where was the hope, now that Akemi was gone? Sometimes, she wondered if it would be better if all of the Miyano family were die, taking their legacy of pain to the grave.
A sob, muffled by the din of the rain, escaped. Some wounds can never heal.
She hated the rain. The cold wetness seemed to wash away any semblance she was able to maintain, casting her adrift without support in a world she could not navigate alone.
She remembered running down the sidewalks, bare feet growing bluer with every puddle she ran through. The rain had been icy that day; it had already soaked her oversized lab coat and shirt, transforming them into heavy weights. She had been only half aware of where she was going, the pain of the transformation still aching in her bones. She had been surprised to find herself at his gate, surprised that she still remembered the way. She had ringed the bell with fingers trembling with cold. Over and over her hand pushed the button, till all hope had been drained away and the thought of salvation was lost. She remembered giving in, allowing the deadly hands of cold to creep into her mind and steal the last vestiges of consciousness from her. It should have been the end, but Fate once again stepped in. She didn't know if should be grateful or not.
Small arms rapped tightly around a childish frame. One cheek pressed against the windowpane. The cold differed drastically to the warmth inside, a perfect match for her shattered heart.
"What are you doing?" The question was posed in a childish voice, but she knew it was no mere child who asked it.
She slowly turned from her window seat to view the one who dared to interrupt her solitude. The small, brown-haired boy looked up at her with an expression of curiosity, large, thick glasses serving to cloak the piercing intellect of those blue eyes. She turned back towards the window, unwilling to be examined by those eyes for long.
"Watching the rain." It was a foolish answer, not addressing the real question that was posed. The boy made a small sound of exasperation. He was not in the mood for ambiguities today.
"I meant, what are you thinking about?" She would never tell him, because he could never understand. No, that was a lie. She would never tell him, because he would understand, and she didn't want him too. She didn't want to see that look of dawning comprehension and the pity that would be soon to follow.
"Things…that have happened." More equivocal statements and vague answers, some truths are too painful to speak aloud.
This was as far as she would let him in, as far as she could go without telling him everything. Sometimes, she just wanted to tell him everything, to let everything out in the open regardless of the consequences. It was pointless to dream like that, she would never be that brave.
Just another quality she possessed more of.
She never saw the frown and the worried expression he aimed at her back. They were like two dancers, unsure of the steps and even the song they were dancing to, always divided by an unseen wall of past misunderstandings.
"Do you want to do something?" His voice was unsure out of the thought of rejection.
She thought of their first meeting, of his furious expression and his hate. It had tempered with time, but she would never forget it. Never forget how he was forced to live a lie because of her. How he must hate her, forced to help house the one who tore him from his perfect life.
"You don't have to force yourself." He stiffed reflexively at her cold tone. He knew that she constantly blamed herself for their condition. Why couldn't she let go? He had.
"I'm not forcing myself. Since it's raining and we're stuck inside, I was just wondering if you wanted to do something other than sit and mope." The irritation in his voice made the statement come out harsher than he had intended. He could see her stiffen at his tone and braced himself for whatever cutting retort she had planned to push him away.
She drew herself up, ready to make a biting remark. Couldn't he see that she wanted to be alone right now? Couldn't he see that… The rain hammered the window, driving all of her anger away. Without the anger, she felt empty and spent from her contemplation of the past.
He frowned in worry as her shoulders slumped forward and the tenseness drained away. She looked like a worn doll.
"Haibara?" The question was hesitant and filled with concern. She slowly turned back to face him.
"I'm fine." Her voice was soft and weary. To his detective ears, she sounded anything but. "What did you have in mind? A board game." He nodded in affirmation.
"How about I go make some warm tea, and you pick the game, okay?" He hadn't originally been planning to make tea, but she looked so cold and tired. He wanted to see her truly smile as she had on so few occasions. He wasn't sure quite why.
She nodded and slid out of the chair towards the closet that held Agasa's collection of board games. Smiling slightly, he turned towards the kitchen.
Opening the closet, she pushed the small pile of junk aside to better view the stack of games. Reading the titles, she wondered which one he would like best.
"Haibara," the voice called loudly from the kitchen, "where is the tea kettle?"
"In the second cabinet," she answered distracted, still concentrating on the task at hand.
The triumphant shout of "got it" was quickly followed by the sound of falling metal ware. Realization setting in, she quickly walked to kitchen to confirm her suspicions.
On the floor lay the "savior" of the Tokyo police force--along with several pots and pans. She briefly hid a small smile of amusement behind her hand before bending over to put the cooking ware back in its proper place. The disgruntled detective slowing rose to his feet.
"Thanks a lot." The words were laced with sarcasm. She studiously ignored the irritated boy until everything was back in its proper place.
"I forgot to tell you about how Agasa arranges his pots, sometimes they tip over if you're not careful. Sorry." He thought about a retort, but paused when he saw her small smile of amusement. It was a start. A start to what, he didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"It's alright." He graciously waved his hand in the air to indicate that there were no hard feelings. She gracefully stepped forward snatch the waving pot.
"How about I make the tea and you pick the game, okay?" He considered her offer for a minute.
"Nah. From what I remember, Agasa doesn't have any good board games anyway. I'll help you make the tea." Together, the two not-children managed to boil the tea and take it to the family room without further mishap.
She watched as the thin trail of steam curled in the air above her cup. They were both sitting silently around the low table. The sound of rain was muffled here, away from the window. She closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and peace of the room to envelop her. Slowly, a small smile slipped past her defense.
He watched her from across the table as she fulfilled the menial tasks done before drinking tea. He had opened his mouth, ready to start a conversation, a few times. However, something inside always stopped him.
The two children sat in quiet companionship as the afternoon hours slipped away. Outside, the rain continued to pour. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter as much anymore.