It is certainly odd.

First of all, Ran's vocabulary seemed to have expanded considerably overnight. I am not one to judge, but the Ran I know does not use- or know- words such as "insalubrious" to describe our left-overs from yesterday or "asinine" to refer to her dad's antics. Nor did she roll her eyes when I dropped food and exclaimed: "Komenasai!" She had even noted an error on the site I had been utilizing to complete my homework. Apparently, she now knew more in the matters of science than ever before.

I shove a mouthful of rice down my throat, resting the spoon onto the now vacant plate.

A thought occurs to me. Had she been compelled to watch scientific documentaries in an effort to attain Shinichi's level of knowledge? Was she tired of being left behind during my cases and discussions? Although… that scarcely justified her altered personality.

My tongue dabs the tiny pool of sauce marking the corner of my lip.

I sigh as she tosses me the recently washed sweater instead of wrapping it tenderly around my child self like she usually does; it is sprawled onto the floor- a careless jumble of overlaid folds. My fingers hook the border of the dejected object and I slide both arms through its orifices sequentially. Warm and soft: it embraces me in a dry-cleaned hug.

"Goodbye," I chirp innocuously. My eyes can hardly leave the sardonic smirk twisting her features as she flicks two fingers to the side in a casual salute.

Heels tapping softly against the sidewalk, I take my first step into the sunlight.

Something… something is amiss.

A few hours earlier… Haibara/Shiho…

I wiggle my fingers groggily, raising my head from the level surface below. Straining to untangle the agglomeration of thoughts cluttering my mind, I bite into the air; teeth clashing together. I am shoved upright violently; a rush of information nudging me violently from the inside.

The brain consumes 20% of the body's oxygen.

I clasp my hand against my forehead, rubbing it softly in a circular, perpetual motion. My lips press together, becoming a thin, taut line and my eyes narrow, flitting from the featureless wall to my finger. Precisely, my fingernails.

They are pink. Who in the world? I glare steadily at the vivid paint, pondering the various ways I would exert my revenge on the offender. Is it Conan? Or perhaps his nemesis, Kaito Kid?

I halt. There is something else which strikes me as odd. My legs are significantly longer than I last recalled. Have I become Shiho once more? Sheer terror rises in my chest as I contemplate the impending consequences of such a transformation… they would know. And they would hunt me down.

I place a tentative hand around the offending limb, my eyes broadening slightly. It is larger. Muscular, robust, bluish veins tracing an inconspicuous grid below the golden brown surface. Not wan and translucent like mine. My finger slides shakily along its athletic structure, outlining the defined rim of its protruding muscle- past the dim scars, past the tiny specks of dried blood, past the colorful patches of bruises, and through the grove which trails off into the heel.

It is not my leg. Not the leg of a frail, shut-in scientist. Not that of the child who values academics well beyond physical activity. Not that of the girl who's every step was calculated, never tripping, or falling, or laughing. Not that of a girl who pored over university-level textbooks whilst other seventh graders frolicked around. Not that of the one forced to conduct perpetual research, with mice as her sole companion. It is not my leg.

My gaze whips to the side as I stare in bewilderment at the glass before me.

It is Ran's.

Conan:

I stop by Agasa's house as an afterthought. Crossing the threshold gingerly, my gaze flits around the cool, air conditioned house- unfamiliar in its stillness. I was accustomed to, perhaps tendrils of smoke leeching into the kitchen, a heap of demolished concrete lying below a crumbling gap in the wall, even jam and peanut butter smeared across the counter, remnants of a sloppy breakfast- something which differed from this pristineness which had been ordered as such by the ice queen: Haibara Ai.

I wipe the lingering smile off my face, still finding it amusing that a grown man could be pushed around so effortlessly by an apparent child. Although I must admit she is, nonetheless, intimidating. In a different way than Ran, though. Whereas Ran's mood, actions, and words are easy to predict, (although she is physically beast), Haibara is volatile- fickle- and enjoys messing with you psychologically. Ah, the girls I associate myself with, I mutter indecipherably.

"Agasa?" I call out, peering up the stairs. At this time, he should be on the verge of testing out a new invention.

A grunt and call ring down, followed by a peal of dulled "thumps," signifying his descent. "Hey, Shinichi-kun," I hear before the inventor appears. His tight silver curls and corpulent structure shift vertically as he bounces down the steps. A pen- which I imagine is not an ordinary one as springs have leapt out of its intricate wiring, a few rubber meshes sagging below- is placed in his fingers. I apprehend the invention with a faint smirk.

"Hey, Hakase. Where's Haibara?" I inquire, "She wasn't at school today."

The professor tips his head up in a moment of apprehension: "Ah, that. She left a note... apparently she's attending a conference on enzymes in order to further her research for the antidote."

I whistle disconcertedly, frowning: "She's going as… Haibara?" Why the heck would a child know anything about enzymes? Would they even let her get in? The ideas this girl has… I shake my head in disbelief.

"Apparently," Agasa shrugged, "she sent me a text message and she got in as a woman's daughter."

A lady? Did Jodie-sensei agree to help her get in? Otherwise… who else was in on the secret? My hands writhe around in my coarse jean pocket, a thoughtful daze overcoming me. My vision dims slightly as I narrow my line of vision.

What is really happening here?

Haibara/Shiho:

"…"

I inch closer to the mirror, scrutinizing my face with faint distaste... as well as unsuppressed awe. My features seem softer- my cheekbones less angular, the jut of my chin gentler, my eyes rather circular- but nonetheless sharper than I had seen the naïve girl peer through. My black hair falls in long, smooth strands over my shoulders, conserving its dark, sleek curves even as I shift position to lean up closer against the wall, arms sandwiching the mirror. In fact the surrounding meshes seem to gleam in the dim lamplight, framing my head like a halo.

Angel.

That's what Kudo-kun saw in her. She was his angel.

What happened to her? I am in her body, but had her mind entered mine? How is this possible- I mean, scientifically, it is not. Then is this all… magic?

My analytical mindset rejects this possibility immediately. But there is hardly anything else I can think of- unless someone has somehow conserved our two bodies as well as our brains, surgically switching both without damaging any of the neuronal framework.

I puff through pursed lips. Ya right…

And… would I really take the opportunity to return to my body if it ever did arise? I mean, Ran Mouri had friends my age, she has parents who are unrelenting in their affection for her, she is relatively safe, she has more responsibility- yet more freedom than I've ever experienced.

And, as much as I am unwilling to admit it, Kudo-kun loves her. If she cried, Shinichi would hold her, comfort her. Even though she cannot see him, he is there for her. He… he cares.

I shake my head disgustedly. What was I thinking. I would be stealing her life. A cuckoo may insinuate the nest, but he will never be as beautiful as the robin. I am not and will never be the brave, caring figure she is. I am a traitorous monster, bound to my sin; I have murdered countless people whose names I deign to ignore. Cynicism is my mask- a virtually unbreakable shield; an armor layered with elusive, metaphorical statements, snappy remarks, and narrow-eyed smirks. A cool façade which I both loathe and cling onto frantically. I am not, and never will be Ran.

Then… why am I stuck in her body?

My forehead crinkles slightly as the foggy memories drift gradually into existence.

Magenta strands of hair fluttering in the draft which wafts in from the unbolted door. As the cool air rushes over me, I shudder, an almost pleasant, tingling sensation materialising where the breeze meets my skin. I guard myself with childlike disinterest. My façade has been set. I do not allow her to even glimpse at the self I have buried beneath the mask.

"Shiho." She states, almost matter-of-factly.

The mask slips.

I choke on the sharp intake of breath produced, faltering slightly. Shooting a cynical, wide-eyed glare at the girl's elfin features, my mind calculates and disposes of the various possibilities stemming from the one word.

"Shiho," my sister would pronounce smoothly.

"Shiho," my parents would scroll, preceded by a "To our dear."

"Shiho," classmates would sneer, taunting.

Shiho, the organisation would fail to utter.

No one pronounces my name in that manner unless they are listing a fact. Enumerating one name amongst stacks of redundant data. As if I am no more than that pronoun… a mere five-letter word.

"You are mistaken," I manage to hiss; "my name is Haibara Ai. This is the residence of…"

She chuckles airily: "I am perfectly aware of this house's occupants." Something tugs at the hem of my shirt, beseeching me to run. But I cannot. Who is this? Who is this woman?

As if on command, as if she could sense the curiosity emanating from me, she stretches out her perfectly manicured fingers- not a fleck of grime soiling its perfection: "Akako."

And although it is not the ideal way to introduce oneself, she adds with unrelenting nonchalance:

"I know everything about you."

End of one-shot or first chapter if a lot of people review. Really, let me know what you think :). It's my first time writing this kind of stuff.