Hello there. This was written for Poirot Cafe's first Super Short Contest, the theme being "Hope".
And yeah, I hope you enjoy it! That's all I have to say - have fun!

The Strongest Element

Hope is as fluid and flexible as water. It's as sturdy and solid as the earth.
It's as bright and consuming as fire. And like air, it is endless and everywhere.
Hope is the strongest element of them all.

He's ten. The organization is dead and buried, every last member. And he's ten. Not 21, like he should be.
He's in fifth grade, when really he should be in university. He's making friends with children half his age.
He sees his old friends moving on, maturing, becoming adults, starting their own lives. And he's condemned to sit on the sidelines and watch as his own life passes him by because he's not there to live it.

It's not fair, never has been. And he's this close to resigning. To accepting that this is what his life will be from now on. That Shinichi Kudo is dead and he is Conan Edogawa now.

He's close, but he's not there yet. And he won't get there until he has tried every last thing, has exhausted every possibility.

So he swallows his pride and he asks for help. Lord knows, he doesn't want to, but he's at this point. This point where you know, you won't get any further on your own.
He calls his parents.
They tease him, they make fun of him for waiting so long, but they will help him. Of course they will. They know people, they'll find someone who can help them. Help him.

He ends the call and closes his eyes. Focuses his attention on the tiny flicker of hope inside of him. Despite all odds, it's still there and it amazes him.
So often, in these past few years, did it seem to him like he lost it for good. And yet, it prevailed, through everything.

A week later, he receives a call. His parents found someone. Multiple someones, actually. They'll arrive in Tokyo soon.

There's one last thing he has to do.

He hesitates, then rings the door bell. His body has gone through a growth spurt. He can reach it comfortably now.

She opens and looks at him, waiting. They go inside, past the professor in the living room, and down to the lab.

And he asks her directly, no beating around the bush.

Is she willing to work with other people?

She looks at him for a long, silent minute. Hurt. Calculating. Frustrated. Helpless. Tired.

And she too swallows her pride and nods. Says yes.
Yes, because maybe she's not as brilliant as she thought she was. Yes, because maybe she's been staring at these formulas so long that she can't see the greater picture anymore.
Yes, because she's been trying to work this out for years. And it's not working.
Yes, because she's tired and she doesn't want to admit it, but she can't do it alone.

He goes home that night and he revels in his hope. He lets it consume him. Because it's all he's got.
And it's all he needs.

The next few weeks are strenuous. Exhausting. A lot of tests, a lot of going back and forth, following leads and finding dead ends.

It puts his hope to the test.

But it doesn't fail him, not now, not ever.

He asks them how it's going.

Slow, they say. Slow, but it's going.

They, hope, they believe, they work. And they make it. It's taken another two years, but they made it.

It was slow, and at times, he felt that his hope might die after all. They say that hope dies last, and what else is there to die?

But he knows better now. Hope doesn't die. Never. It's too strong, too stubborn, too important.

It's taken a damn long time, but he's back in his own body now and there are a lot of things he has to sort out, to get his life back in order.

But he has hope for that too.

And really, that's all he needs.