The Breaking Point
A Detective Conan Fanfiction
There were several forms of imprisonment. There were the bars of metal, and then there were the bars of reflective glass.
The eyes that stared back at him were fatigued with weary dark-circles, muffled with the dull twinge of plastic in between thick frames. Blue eyes held a dark and impressive depth that could barely shimmer in the heavy florescence in the bathroom. His gaze rose to consume the invisible portrait that was the cabinet mirror—a pathetic collection of negative space in his stature.
This face was a familiar sight now. It was an old friend that had long returned from exile and overstayed its already unwelcomed presence; bed-tossed raven locks over his brow, thin lips with a set jaw, plain nose if not with button-likeness. It was certainly his own face and that was his only comfort in the midst of the pudgy baby-fat packed on his cheeks and the large consuming eyes lodged between his ears. Inappropriately soft and tiny fingers crawled towards his face, prodding the fat with mindless interest.
He was tired. It was morning, right?
He watched as Conan inhaled deeply—heavy and unwelcomed oxygen heaving the tiny shoulders that peaked into the window sill before him. He remembered holding his breath then, a pathetic sense of control causing a shiver of pleasure.
Something snapped during the exhale.
His hand lashed forward.
As if launching his hand smack into a mirror was a daily routine, there was a shattering crack as the image before him contorted (good). In retrospect, it was completely natural and in character. He was a man (haha…) of justice, constantly seeking the Truth (all hail ) so it was just a reflex to attack the giant Lie before him (can't begin the day with regrets). It was his job. He was a martyr! A Hero! He even had fan mail (or was that the other guy?). Their eyes would always glaze over in dreamy awe in his presence (he was brilliant) holding onto every syllable that came from his lips (finally), telling him he'd (eventually) amount to greatness. He had connections (Oto-san?). He had (fair-weather) friends (idiotic, insignificant, slow-minded…). He had family (Oto-san?!). He was invincible and smart (stupid). A lead pipe? He could take it right to the head. How about some deadly poison? Right from the sci-fi section! The Truth was a (life stealing, mind-fucking, lying) damsel in distress and it was his (test) –duty to retrieve (the damn virus) it! That's why! That's why…
-Crimson liquid dripped off the baby-soft hands.
He was just so amazing!
-Red seeped into the large, LARGE spider web they caused.
So strong!
-Weak little limbs were shaking underneath him.
Mature!
-He heard short ragged breaths, so shallow (Shallow,SHALLOW,shallow!)
X
X
X
…Right?
A high pitched scream blasted into existence, rattling in the room, splintering pain registering through his sensitive nerves, making him want to cry, beg for attention, sleep away the pain…
Get me out of here!
It was suffocating, he was blind, it hurt.
Help me! Please.
He was so weak, so small.
Anyone!
It didn't matter! Promise.
Stop it!
They were laughing. Shame. Humiliation.
X
The prisons of iron and steel that he condemned human scum to on practically a daily basis was NOTHING compared to this shattered mirror. Where the reality of the world ripped your values into meaningless bibles, you became a hypocrite! The truth that you blindly pursue even now is a damn lie that defaces and mocks you. This amazing life full of stupid friends, missing parents, and impossible expectations suddenly becomes just that. Shallow, pathetic and fake. A light shines on the truth and you couldn't believe how much you hate it (Murder is a crime!). Seventeen years of 'hard-work' and 'growing up' and you lose it in an instant! You were a sick creature, unfit for such heroics. Karma is a bitch.
You find that your life is gone, your pride destroyed, your face unrecognizable— but what really hurts is realizing that that's not really the case. This mask fits better than it should. It's not you. But it's better than you. That image of manliness that you thought was destroyed when your strong arms weakened and your long legs shrank is now worse than a pathetic child. It's your blessed second chance, your opportunity to right all those wrongs, erase the bitter memory of the egomaniac human scum that thought to taint the idea of justice and truth. Now everything is upside down and so damn confusing. You thought there was nothing wrong before, that you were forced to leave behind something great… but that's not true at all. It'd just be better if he never returned.
"Conan-kun!"
Conan froze at the shocking innocence of her voice.
"Are you done in there? I have to get ready for school too." Her tone was that familiar motherly drawl. Goodness, she'd be an amazing mom (not yours…). Reality set in as he took in the shattered mirror splitting canyons into his youthful features. He felt hot blood trickle off his knuckle with a worrying ease. This was purely incriminating. For the first time that morning he actually considered what in Truth's name he was doing.
What snapped that morning to make him feel the woes of reality? Since when did he give up? As strange as he thought the broken mirror before him was a large part of him saw it as a very reasonable reaction. (To what?) There were people who killed for less. The content also brought shivers through his spine. Was he finally going mad?
"Conan-kun?" Worry. As her pitch lifted in concern panic snatched him. The mirror. My hand. The silence. Questions. Lies. LIES. LIES.
He took a very long breath in and then exhaled. The door opened at his discretion and he looked in shame toward the ground. It was then that the teenager noticed the shimmering pile of silver dabbed with accenting reds flaking to the ground from an impressive web above the sink.
"Oh my God, what happened?!"
He started stringing a story in head...
And then stopped.
There wasn't a logical sequence of decisions and options… There wasn't an earth shaking flashback or surfacing memory… There wasn't some inspiring echo whispering his salvation… he just stopped. A label found its way to the surface, but even then he didn't care… He. Was. Done.
Done.
A word had never seemed so sweet.
He looked up at her frantic eyes as she took in the disturbing sight. Connections and assumptions were swimming in her head. For once he didn't want to lie. He didn't want to say anything. Noticing his dripping hand she was shocked into action, grabbing a towel indiscriminately and swaddled his hand with the seeping blood. There was a raw fear in her eyes. He could almost feel her frantic heart beat sporadically in the miles between them. She whimpered and her hand reached to brush his bangs out of his deadpan face. She cupped his cheek in her palm and brought herself down to his gaze her irises were flickering with thoughts a mile a minute. Her breathing hitched. She didn't have a single clue what to do.
And yet she was doing it perfectly.
"Conan-kun." She whispered. It wasn't a question. She was affirming his identity to herself.
Her fingers mindlessly rubbed circles in his hair, it felt like heaven. She was trying to comprehend what just happened, what was happening. It was like she just discovered the world was an alien place. How do you deal? What do you say? What do you ask? (WHY?)
This precious boy had all the answers. And his blank expression was an impenetrable fort. Only his shimmering eyes expressed the truth.
He was trying to hold himself back, looking at her beautiful face square on. It was like he was being taunted through the cage. He could pretend that there was more to this than her but he would be lying. It was always her. It had always been her. His best friend. The love of his life. His reason for living. Ran.
I-It… He felt the pressure behind his eyes mount.
But… His throat constricted. Suffocation was nigh.
...No… His face grew hot and his lip quivered.
It just wasn't fair!
An atrocious whine escaped him and his river of tears began. Without hesitation she consumed him with a hug staring helplessly at the ceiling as she began rocking the child back and forth. He screamed and moaned into the fabric of her school blazer letting his tears make their stains shamelessly. She cooed softly with her own accompanying tears of confusion. He screamed senselessly, muffled by her crushing embrace. All that pain and frustration. All of it. It was too much for one boy to handle alone. He clutched at her jacket with a primal need and felt the pacifying waves of love and concern coming from her. In that instant he was reduced to the most basics of human comprehension. It was his lowest.
He had lost.
In a strange hindsight. Crying felt good. Beyond good. Amazing. Screw his image, he didn't have one. It was an equally strange freedom. For once he didn't really think of the consequences. I think a part of him already thought long and hard about this day. The day he'd wake up, unable to take it. The day he'd finally break. He always knew it was coming.
Not with a bang, but a whimper.
Author Note:
It's implied. But Shinichi reveals his identity to Ran in the subsequent moments.
This piece is a result of many months of personal angst. I've been writing this all year, never quite feeling it was appropriate to post. Like many of my other works it's just a work of pure emotion. I don't really have much structure and I'm a little incoherent which is why it's a little embarrassing to open it to the public. Alas, here it is. I have no intention of truly polishing it. But I appreciate your comments or criticism.
I find Shinichi situation to be a beautiful tragedy that is surprisingly deeper than initial impressions. It's one of the main reasons why I like the series. As typical of mangaka Gosho can be, I feel he sets himself apart from others with the way he stretches the boundaries of what is essentially a kids mystery manga. There are subtle nuances to the characters and events that I can tell he's thought about. It allows me to really explore his character and push him as well. I used him a little with my own melodramatic nature but accuracy wasn't my goal here. This is literally a speculation of the possibility that one day it will become too much for him to handle. Thus his breaking point. I could go on and with him revealing his identity to Ran but that'd be redundant, and this is all about him. I think the moment before, when he's lost all hope and said his curses to the consequences, that is his greatest challenge.
Thank you for Reading.