AN: SLAM DUNKS THIS FANFIC INTO THE DETECTIVE CONAN TAG AND SHOUTS LOUDLY TO THE SKY. Do you know that feeling when you've got such a good rhythm going with a chapter and you produce something that you think is fantastic? That's this. That's this opening chapter. I'm so proud I could weep. Literally. I cried while writing this chapter. Not because of pride though, but because of other things.

This was an idea that once it sparked in my head, pretty much demanded to be let out. It's more or less been all I could think about for the past few days tbh. What started as just tinkering with the first chapter turned out to be writing the whole damn thing all at once instead, whoops. I actually had meant to update The Bells Chime Beyond before I started working on this, so... surprise I guess?

I've got some cool ideas for this story, any number of twists and turns and it's something I'm really looking forward to telling, so I'm hoping that everyone looks forward to it just as much! As always, please, leave a review!

Phantasmal Black

Chapter One

Echoes

The plan had been going smoothly, right up until the bad weather had hit.

The waves that rocked the yacht powerful enough to send less surefooted people searching for something to hold on to, the torrential rain that made the surface of the deck slick and unforgiving, and the howling wind that threatened to blow away anyone foolish enough to venture outside. He'd expected that a storm was on it's way judging from that morning's news report, but he hadn't expected it to become something this intense.

But this wasn't a place where he could back down- and his opponent was just as trapped as he was now. There was one more advantage in Edogawa Conan's favor- the fact that he wasn't alone on this ship. As he exchanged a silent look with Hattori Heiji, his friend and rival, an understanding formed between the pair. It was only because of a carefully formulated plan that they had managed to trick Vodka and isolate him from Gin in the first place, and they weren't about to give up here because of a little rain.

The plan had been going smoothly, right up until the gunshot rang out.

They had been certain, so certain, that Vodka had been out of bullets. Somewhere along the line, they had made a mistake, mixed up a noise, or were deceived. There was one more bullet left in Vodka's gun, a bullet that found itself piercing straight through the back of a certain high school detective. A bullet that had been intended for someone else, a bullet that wasn't meant for the target it shot through, straight and true.

"Hattori!"

Clutching at his chest, blood trickling from his lips, they nevertheless worked to give Conan one of his characteristic grins, an expression that normally lit up a room like sunlight. Even as he gasped for breath, he lifted up a hand to try and reassure the panicked not-child by his side, goal of capturing Vodka having almost completely fallen to the wayside as the development he feared the most unfolded in front of his very eyes.

The plan had been going smoothly, right up until the wave struck the boat.

Powerful enough to tilt the boat, those on the deck found themselves tilting, sliding, the cold, choppy seas roaring beneath them, threatening to consume them. As the yacht settled itself down just before Conan could slide off it himself, he reached out, grabbing Heiji's hand and holding on as tightly to it as he possibly could, his tiny, all too childlike hand being the only thing keeping him from falling into the ocean.

It was a fate he'd managed to escape from once before, but whatever miraculous luck the detective of the west possessed that had enabled him to survive countless other near death situations, it seemed as if it had finally run out tonight. As Conan's grip on Heiji's hand loosened, the blood that coated it making it slippery, the Osakan detective, who had been fading in and out of consciousness, looked up at his friend, who was trying so hard to save him.

Flashing one last wide smile towards him, what would become his last words were lost to the roar of the ocean. Conan could only watch, eyes wide with horror behind the glasses he didn't need, as his trusted friend and ally slipped from out of his grasp, the stormy seas below finally claiming what had escaped them once before.

"Hattori!"

Jolting wide awake in his bed, it took him several moments to remember where he was. It was only after he checked all of his limbs that he remembered he was no longer Edogawa Conan, but had long since returned to being Kudo Shinichi. Cold sweat trickled down his neck, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, breath coming out in ragged gasps as he woke from the throes of his nightmare, still all too vivid in his mind. He became all too aware of a faint beeping sound as he slowly recovered, for a moment unable to place what it might be- before he turned slightly to his side, letting out a breath as he realized it was nothing more than his alarm clock, helpfully informing him that it was now nine in the morning, and it was time to wake up.

Silencing the alarm that seemed unnecessarily cheerful on such a morning, Shinichi slid out of bed, trying to compose himself. It had been some time since he had been haunted by such a nightmare, and he didn't even have to look at his calendar to know the reason why. This same nightmare had plagued his dreams on this day without fail for the past five years, the memories just as fresh and vivid as they were when he lived through them.

It was Hattori Heiji's birthday.

It was also the anniversary of the day the search for him had been called off. The day his status changed from 'missing' to 'deceased'.

For a moment, Shinichi found it hard to breathe, as if the walls of his room were closing in on him. And then slowly, he steadied himself, taking in short breaths at first, before he was finally breathing normally again. There were important things that needed to be done today, he thought to himself, taking in one more deep breath for good measure, before he slowly let it out.

"Right." Setting himself into the motions of getting ready for the day, some measure of relief was given to him as he splashed his face with cold water. After getting dressed and eating some breakfast, he once again checked the overnight bag he'd prepared, making sure everything that he needed was there. He definitely couldn't forget the present that he'd prepared for Heiji's mother- when he'd done so last year, Ran had never let him hear the end of it.

They hadn't worn black to the funeral.

It had caused a stir at the time, given tradition, but it hadn't seemed appropriate. There had been no body to view, no corpse to cremate. It had long since been lost to the seas, and no matter how much they'd scoured Tokyo Bay, they could never find a trace of it. For the longest time, Shinichi held out hope in his heart that this meant there could be a chance, however slight, that he'd managed to survive. He'd gone so far as to search every hospital in Japan, starting with the Tokyo area, and going as far as Hokkaido in search of any patients that might match the description of Heiji. Even after the funeral, he kept desperately searching, checking even small clinics in hopes of finding some trace of his friend.

To the very end, he had never stopped blaming himself. Even as he chased the Black Organization into the very Earth, only a few scattered remains of the once mighty empire still remaining, even as he finally was able to return to being Kudo Shinichi, even as he opened up his own detective agency, and even as he finally asked Ran to marry him, he never stopped blaming himself.

The only reason he hadn't shut down completely was perhaps in part due to his hatred towards the Black Organization. Though he shouldered most of the blame for the untimely death of the detective of the west, if the Black Organization hadn't existed in the first place, such a thing wouldn't have been allowed to happen. He wouldn't be satisfied until he had rooted out every last Black Organization member and ensured that they faced justice, willing to chase them to the very ends of the earth.

The other, he supposed, was because he knew that were such a thing possible, Hattori Heiji himself would have returned from the dead purely to beat him over the head and tell him to get over it already. There was no way he would have wanted to see Shinichi give up- whatever his last words might have been, he could imagine at the very least, they were something along the lines of that very same thing. So he'd moved forward with life, starting by putting one foot in front of the other.

Starting by dragging Vodka down into hell. Within the maximum security prison he was now locked away in, there was no chance that he would ever escape, facing a life sentence. He would rot away in there, and yet somehow, it still didn't feel like punishment enough.

Gin had vanished, all but fading into the ether. Occasional reports of him still cropped up now and then, and it was clear that he was the one holding the reins of what remained of the Black Organization. Shinichi had vowed that he would track him down if it was the last thing he ever did in his life.

With the Organization no longer having the reach or power it had in the past, the day came when it was safe for him to live as Kudo Shinichi again- a chance which he had quickly taken when offered. Any notion of giving up his life as the high school detective of the east as some kind of atonement for causing the death of the high school detective of the west was something he quickly deemed foolish. Heiji had started this quest in part to help him get back his normal body, after all- if he refused the antidote, it would have all been meaningless.

It had been Kudo Shinichi, not Edogawa Conan, who had attended the funeral. Ran had been there as well, as had Kazuha, an expression like stone on her face. Whatever tears she had, she'd already used them all up. He'd expected her to blame him, to hate him- but such feelings never came. Somehow, in that moment, Shinichi thought he understood why Heiji loved her so much- words which he had never been able to convey himself.

Shinichi did it for him. It only felt right.

It turned out that Kazuha still had a few tears remaining after all.

He wasn't certain what was easier- dealing with those who knew, or dealing with those who didn't. The Detective Boys had been especially difficult, especially in his days as Edogawa Conan. Old enough to understand the concept of death, even without the crime scenes they regularly found their ways into, they had done their best to cheer him up, dragging him to places that they thought would be fun. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't. On the worst of days, he grew frustrated with them, snapping at them in a very un-Conan-like fashion. On the best of days, he felt as if he couldn't ask for a better friend, and made a silent vow to not let 'Edogawa Conan' simply disappear, to keep him alive through letters for as long as it took for them to figure out the truth for themselves.

They might have not known the person who had claimed he was his 'detective teacher' all that well, but they'd all been fond of him- honestly, who couldn't be? That same bright and cheery nature that sometimes frustrated him to no end was downright infectious. He'd have to search far and wide to find someone who truly, genuinely hated Heiji.

The whole world somehow seemed all the grayer with his loss.

"Are you ready to go, Kudo-kun?"

The sound of Ai's voice roused him from his thoughts, and he turned to look down at the girl who had apparently been waiting for him for some time now, judging from the expression on her face. Unlike himself, Ai had refused to take the antidote- there had been nothing for her to go back to as Miyano Shiho, but the world of Haibara Ai was filled with colors that Shinichi had almost come to envy in his worst moments. Even with the traces of the Black Organization out there still, she'd come to live with a lightness to her step that had been a long time coming, without constantly second guessing every shadow that shifted and twisted in an odd way.

Wearing the uniform of Teitan Junior High School, twelve year old Haibara Ai looked up at the twenty two year old detective with expectant eyes. "You didn't forget the present this time, did you?"

"I remembered it." Shinichi said, holding the bag up in one hand. "Is the Professor not coming with you?"

"He had an appointment this morning he just couldn't get out of." Ai said, shaking her head. "He'll be meeting us there later though. Is Ran-san still going to take a late flight out?"

"Yeah. She wanted to come earlier, but she couldn't abandon the kids she's been teaching either. Today's their first real tournament after all." Shinichi said, a slightly fond smile surfacing on his face as he spoke of his fiancee. "Well, I think Hattori would understand a reason like that."

"I suppose that much is true." Ai said, closing her eyes as she fell into step beside him. "Who else is coming?"

"His parents and Kazuha will be there of course." Shinichi began, frowning a little as he tried to recall who was coming today, and who couldn't make it. "I think Masumi will show up as well. I don't think Kaito will come. He never really knew Hattori in the first place, I don't think he knows what to do with himself in situations like this."

"Hakuba probably won't make it either. Last I heard from him, he was still chasing Paikaru's tail." Shinichi told her, watching something shift in her gaze as the codenames of one of them slipped from his lips. While it didn't invoke the same amount of fear within her as it had in the past, it still didn't go without a reaction. "He thinks he has a solid lead that will finally allow him to chase him down. From there, I think he hopes to catch hold of Merlot."

"It would be good if he did." Ai said simply, closing her eyes. "Aside from Gin, those two are causing us the most problems. There's a limit to the information Vermouth can give us now that she's been in jail for the past five years, after all."

"That's true." Shinichi said simply, eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of that woman's name. In the end, she had been the only member to come willingly. To the very end, he had never understood her, and he doubted that he ever would for as long as he lived. While they might not have understood each other, they had still found something of an understanding between them in the end. If there was information that she could provide him about her former allies, then she was more than willing to give it to him- provided that he asked, of course.

Losing Heiji had almost been enough to cause him to close himself off against offers of help in tracking down the Black Organization. Ran had been the one to shake him out of it in the end- after Heiji's death, he hadn't been able to keep the secrets that he hid within the tiny body of Edogawa Conan from her any longer, and had spilled them out. In the end, he'd ended up with more allies than he could ever have imagined- not only were the FBI by his side, but Ran, Masumi, and Kazuha, the members of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police department and the Osakan police department, the double agents that resided within the Black Org itself, Kir and Bourbon, as well as fellow high school detective Hakuba Saguru.

Perhaps the most unexpected ally, he thought, had been Kaito Kid. The phantom thief clad in white had proven himself to be a most valuable ally. As it turned out, their goals were not so different- and with the fall of the Black Organization came the fall of the shadowy group that plagued the Magician in the Moonlight since a time long before Kuroba Kaito had taken up his mantle.

Even now, Hakuba continued to chase the shadow of the Organization. He and Heiji might have never gotten along in the end, but that no longer mattered to him. Working by his side on occasion was Kazuha herself, who had decided to join the police, wanting to do something to follow in the footsteps of the childhood friend that she loved. She never felt like she could quite match up to him, Shinichi knew that much- but she was determined to continue to work to root out every last Black Organization member until none of them walked free any longer.

Five years had passed since then, and although they had seemed long while he was living them, when he reflected back on them, it seemed as if they had gone by in a flash. In those five years, he'd managed to come to terms with Heiji's death, to accept the fact that his good friend was truly gone. It had only been a short time period in which he'd actually known him, a little over the span of his year, and yet he'd etched himself into his memories in a way that ensured he'd never be forgotten.

Even though he'd accepted it, there were still times when he found himself wishing that it might be so, that there might have been a stone he hadn't turned yet, a way for Heiji to have survived. Heiji had always been so good at appearing without warning, after all.

There were times he imagined coming down to his living room in the morning to find Heiji there, having made himself at home with a cup of coffee.

There were times when he imagined entering his agency's office, to find that the client waiting for him wasn't a client at all, but rather, Heiji, with a wild tale on his lips, and a smile that lit up the whole room.

There were times when he imagined himself paying a visit to the Professor, only to find Heiji there, sitting amidst the Detective Boys, engaging them in a case story.

Most recently, there were times when he imagined that as he took his place to wait for Ran to walk down the aisle, Heiji would be there, pestering him about what had taken him so long to finally tie the knot once and for all.

None of these times could ever be real, he thought, as nice it was to think of them. Out of those who had been struck deeply by the loss of the Osakan detective, the only people that remained who carried on the beckon of hope that he was alive where his mother- his mother, and Kazuha.

Still worn around her neck, he knew, was a weathered omamori, wrapped in purple cloth that looked like it had seen somewhat better days. Contained within were the links of steel that had bonded them together in their childhood, and a single photograph of Heiji's smiling face, trapped in time. She'd sooner part with her life than part with it.

The train ride to Osaka was strangely quiet, Shinichi thought to himself. Osaka itself seemed strangely quiet without the sound of Heiji's voice rising above the crowd, once again calling him by the wrong name. As they walked past the sights of the city, he could see shadows, echoes of the teenager that was, helpfully informing him that this place had the best takoyaki, and that this place was somewhere he truly couldn't miss when it came to dining in Osaka.

"Let's eat here tonight, Haibara." Shinichi said, motioning towards the restaurant they had just passed by, hearing echoes of Heiji's glowing recommendations of it in his ears. "We'll take a late dinner with Kazuha when Ran gets here."

"Sounds like a plan." Ai said simply, finding nothing to argue with. The first time she had come to Osaka herself, after all, had been for Heiji's funeral. She carried her regrets with her, wondering if she should have made more of an effort to get to know him when he was alive. She felt as if she could understand the heavy blame that Shinichi carried on his shoulders a little bit- it echoed the blame that she carried on her own, the deep sense of loss that the death of her older sister still sent through her.

As they made their way through the city of Osaka, Shinichi continued to catch glimpses, ghosts, and echoes, of Heiji everywhere he looked. The first time he'd come here, for the funeral, seeing them had been like opening up a wound, a raw, angry wound that refused to heal. But with time having passed, they became something fond, a chance to see a face that he could no longer see, and hear a voice that he could no longer hear.

In a world where Hattori Heiji no longer existed, only memories remained behind.

Sometimes when she closed her eyes, Toyama Kazuha felt as if she could still hear his voice. His smile, bright as the sun, had forever burned itself beneath her eyelids, a face that she wouldn't forget no matter how much time went by. When she held her well worn omamori within her hands, she felt a strength rising up inside of her, as if he was encouraging her to move forward, step by step.

When she first heard the news, she had frozen. Then she had laughed.

It was a hollow, empty, bitter sound, one that filled her ears and sent her parents to her side, dripping with worry. Once the sound passed, the tears finally came, as she realized that this wasn't some kind of horrible joke, but the reality that she now lived in. Her worst fears, the ones that she always tried to lock up in her heart, had finally come true- and far sooner than she had ever expected them to.

Even so, she still held out hope. A single thread, thin as spider's silk. A shining thread of hope that she would never lay aside, something that she would take to her grave at the very end of her days.

Until then, she would work.

She had never really known Kudo Shinichi. The only times she had encountered him in the past had been brief, and he'd always given her something of a colorless impression. She didn't know what to make of the story that Ran told her in hushed and whispered tones at first, about the truth of what had caused Heiji to vanish from the face of the earth. It sounded like a joke to her ears at first, but in due time, she had come to understand it as the truth.

When she'd been introduced to Kudo Shinichi next, he was no longer colorless, no longer strangely transparent. The gray color that filled him up matched the color of the skies above, bearing threats of rain that they never seemed to fulfill. She had been ready to be angry at him, had been ready to be furious with him- but as she met his eyes, such emotions washed away from her in an instant, and she couldn't find it in her heart to hold such venomous emotions against him.

She decided to turn such feelings instead against those who had caused this chain of events to unfold. She might not have been a great detective like the boy she had grown up with, the boy that she cherished even now, even after five years had gone by- but that didn't mean she was powerless, and it didn't mean she couldn't do anything.

Besides, she had a feeling that if somebody didn't take some of the burden off of Shinichi, he'd try and do it all alone. She knew already that this was something that Heiji would not abide by- and so she had offered her help, an offer which continued to this very day, working in tandem with the two who still chased the shadows of the Black Organization into the present day.

She thought she understood why Heiji had always been so attached to Kudo Shinichi, and likewise she thought she understood why he had been unable to stand the likes of Hakuba Saguru. She found working with them both to be easier than she had expected, and had made it her personal mission to teach them both some proper self defense techniques. Shinichi seemed to be under the impression that 'kicking the nearest round object at the culprit' seemed to be a valid self defense technique, which Kazuha had given him a proper earful about.

As her cellphone rang, Kazuha scrambled to answer it, recognizing the ringtone. "Ah, Hakuba-san? Is something up?"

"I thought I should give you a call." Hakuba's voice came across the other line. "My lead is looking as if it's going to pan out after all. I've tracked Paikaru's movements back to Japan. We're in Tokyo right now. Has Kudo-kun arrived already?"

"Yes, he's here." Kazuha said. "But are you sure Paikaru's here? He's never been active in Japan before. Has something changed?"

"I can't say for certain." Hakuba said, a slight frown in his voice. "I still haven't had a chance to see his face. I'm certain that he's here however, and that I am on the correct path. Let Kudo-kun know for me, Toyama-san."

"I will." In spite of knowing that he couldn't see it on the other end of the line, Kazuha nodded her head. "Be careful, Hakuba-san. It's not a good day today."

There was a small pause on the other end of the line, before the half-British detective finally spoke up again. "I will. I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to the memorial."

"It's alright." Kazuha smiled to herself. "If he were in your shoes, that idiot detective would probably be doing the exact same thing. Except he wouldn't stop to even call."

"That's probably true." Hakuba said. "Then, I'll be going now. I'll get in touch with either you or Kudo-kun if I find out anything more."

"Right." Kazuha replied, before the detective on the other end of the line hung up the phone. Tucking her cellphone back away, Kazuha finally readied herself to receive the guests that were coming today. It wasn't often these days that the Hattori household would be filled with noise. Without Heiji roaming the halls, things had become all too quiet here.

She hovered, ever so briefly, outside of his room. It had been left untouched since that day, save for the occasions that she or his mother went inside to clean it. She'd taken his motorcycle for herself, and had learned to ride it, stubbornly keeping it as her vehicle of choice even as it began to get somewhat uncooperative in it's old age.

Placing a hand over her omamori, Kazuha closed her eyes, wondering if perhaps he still had his with him. It would be five years today since he'd finally been declared dead, but she never would accept it. Sometimes, she thought, when she held her omamori like this, she could almost feel him, across space and time, cupping his own within his hand.

Somewhere, somehow, in some form, Hattori Heiji still existed. Even if he had lost his memory and become a different person, even if he'd fallen in love with another woman (or a man, he'd always been flexible in that regard), she vowed that she would accept and love him if the day ever came that their fates once more entwined with the other. Even if the red thread that surely connected them had grown frayed and worn, it would never break.

Sometimes, she thought, if she closed her eyes, she could faintly feel a slight tug on her little finger, carrying with it a promise that this was in fact, not a world where Hattori Heiji no longer existed.

The first time he had met Hattori Heiji, Hakuba Saguru hadn't thought much of him. When he'd later learned that he was knee deep in whatever mysterious affairs that the strange boy known as Edogawa Conan had been involved in, he was at both once surprised and not. The fact that the hot blooded detective, so quick to charge into a scene that he was willing to comprise evidence was involved in such a delicate operation as dealing with what he'd come to call the Black Organization all but flew in the face of common sense.

In the brief encounters he'd had with him, the two of them had never gotten along. While the end result of the their first meeting had given him a better impression of the detective of the west, it didn't appear as if Heiji was so quick to forgive his biting remarks from the time. They were like oil and water, and they simply did not mix well together.

But the oil had vanished, leaving behind only the water.

In the end, he had sacrificed his life for someone he valued deeply, and had disappeared from this world. Only the shadows that Hakuba sometimes saw dance through the eyes of those who knew him best, remained behind.

He had gained more than his fair share of experience chasing shadows in the years that came after that. Sometimes they danced in the corner of his eyes, taunting him, just beyond his reach. Always one step ahead, the shadowy black assassins, remnants of the Black Organization, never failed to slip through his fingers, leaving only bodies in their wake, as if mocking their pursuer, laughing at the notion that someone so young could hope to stop them.

Gin, he knew, was Shinichi's territory. That was personal to him, far too personal for anyone else to dare touch. So it was not Gin that he chased, but rather, those whose reins Gin held, directing like skilled puppets. With black as their color, they slipped in and out of the night, melting into the darkness itself as they carried out their work. The names that had only floated to light as the rest of the Organization crumbled around them- assassins. Not snipers like those who had been given the codenames of Chianti and Korn, but creatures of shadow who blended in, carried out their mission, and disappeared like smoke.

But they weren't smoke.

And because they weren't smoke, it was possible to catch them.

Paikaru, ever ephemeral and elusive, had made a mistake- one single mistake that had Hakuba Saguru on his tail instantly, as soon as he received word. If he didn't act quickly, then the girl he sought would quickly disappear within the FBI, likely never to be seen again.

A single, teenage girl, proved to be the link that he had been looking for, the thread with which he would use to track down the assassin, to bring him to justice. A single, teenage girl, her hair worn high in a ponytail, orange ribbon tied neatly in spite of her shaking hands, a slightly familiar edge to her face that Hakuba couldn't quite place. In whispered tones, she told him that she had hidden, and hadn't been discovered by the man who had killed both her parents and older brother alike. As she held her breath, not even daring to let out the slightest sound, she had survived the night. When dawn broke, and the police arrived, only then did she crawl out of her hiding place, cold and shaking.

A young man of dark complexion. Black clothes, with black boots, and nearly black hair. This was the description that she slipped to Hakuba, information she had gleaned by peeking out of the cracks of her hiding place. It was the most vivid description he'd had of either of the Organization's faceless assassins yet, and it was more than enough for him to go on.

And yet, as he closed in on him, tracing him all the way back to Japan, there was something lingering in the back of his mind, something that bothered him. It almost felt as if he were about to step over a threshold which he should not cross, overcome by the feeling that he should allow this denizen of the shadows to remain in the shadows, features forever obscured by them. Perhaps it was something in the girl's gaze that had flickered strangely when he asked for a description, something about the brief moment in which she had held her tongue.

But Hakuba Saguru was a detective, and detectives did not back down based purely on vague sensations of apprehension alone. They continued to press forward, until the truth came to light, heedless of whatever ugly things might be revealed as a result.

He was close. So close that he could feel it in his very bones. So close to closing in on a shadow that he had been chasing for a little under five years. While the bigger shadow of Merlot still loomed before him, untouched by the small light that had been cast on their disciple, he knew that it would only be a matter of time.

So Hakuba waited.

Entering the hotel in which he was certain that Paikaru now resided within would only allow the assassin to catch wind of him, and to vanish back into the shadows, disappearing entirely once more. He'd chased them this far for months by only existing at the edge of his awareness, and while this had cost him a number of chances in which to see his face, it had allowed him to not lose his tail. Even trailing one step behind, he would catch up to him eventually.

And from there, it would only be a matter of time.

The cafe that he sat in, observing the hotel across the street, was perhaps not as charming as the ones in England, but nevertheless had it's own charm to it. He was not here to dwell on that however, as much as a good cup of tea was a never fail companion to a stakeout. And it was, indeed, a good cup of tea- one that he placed carefully to rest when his detective instincts pulled at him.

Quickly paying his bill, Hakuba left the cafe, tailing the shadow of a man who had stepped out in the light.

Black clothes and black boots. The black suit that he wore could be described as being somewhat slovenly worn, going somewhat against what he'd come to expect from the man he'd spent the past few months chasing after. Hardly formal, his boots appeared to be something one would expect to see a biker wear before a skilled assassin.

Nearly black hair, the back of which struck a familiar chord in Hakuba in a manner that he did not like. Readying the thin camera he carried on his person, waiting to snap a shot the moment he caught a hint of his face, Hakuba held his breath.

A young man with a dark complexion. Certainly, he seemed younger than he had anticipated- even if he couldn't see his face, it was in the way that he carried himself, the way that he moved. His dark complexion stood out amongst the Japanese that he passed by, stirring an echo of a familiar sight deep within him.

As the young man turned slightly, eyes turning to look at the crossing light in front of him, a hint of impatience creeping across his face as he waited for it to change, Hakuba's body moved purely on instinct, snapping a photograph, forever capturing his face on film.

All while Hakuba Saguru found his breath taken from him- not from any sinister plot, not from a blade which struck out from those passing by. There was, in fact, nothing that was actively working to prevent him from breathing, nothing that was actively causing the color to drain from his face, his usually composed expression slipping, and slipping badly.

Unaware, the young man with the codename of Paikaru disappeared amongst the crowd of people crossing the street, vanishing into the masses that lined the Tokyo streets. Like a ghost, he vanished amongst them, his scent lost to the detective who had crossed countless countries in pursuit of him.

With slightly shaking hands, Hakuba brought up the image in his camera, of the face that was forever frozen in time inside of it. A face he knew.

Like a ghost from the past that had risen from it's grave to haunt him, suddenly he came to understand the meaning of the unease that had plagued him for months. He came to understand then, perhaps far too late, why this had felt as if it were something he were not meant to know.

All at once, he resolved, it would be Shinichi that he contacted, not Kazuha,- and he would do so in person, not daring to phone him with information like this. This was something that needed to be handled face to face, even on a day such as this.

Twenty two years ago, on this day, Hattori Heiji had been born. Hakuba Saguru knew nothing about the circumstances of his birth, though he expected that his mother had cried. Mothers generally did.

Five years ago, on this day, Hattori Heiji had officially died, his legal status changing from 'missing' to 'deceased'.

And on this day, one that was forever marked by both joyous birth and tragic death, it appeared that Toyama Kazuha and Hattori Shizuka had been right all along. The first ally that Edogawa Conan had trusted with his valued secret, outside of the Professor who had known it from the outset, was not dead.

Hattori Heiji was alive.

But there would be no joyous fanfare, no tear jerking homecoming.

With no other explanation available to him, Hakuba Saguru's mind could only draw one conclusion. How long, he wondered, had Hattori Heiji played them all for fools, stringing them along with one lie after another, all while wearing the mask of someone so honest, he let Shinichi's secret slip at every given chance.

Hattori Heiji, he knew with every fiber of his being, was Paikaru. There was only one conclusion to be drawn from that.

Hattori Heiji was a member of the Black Organization.

Perhaps this was, after all, a shadow that should have been allowed to remain a shadow.

In a world where Hattori Heiji, unexpectedly, still existed, the truth that the light shone on was perhaps the ugliest yet.