Masquerade by littlelinguistme
Written for Day 4 of CoAi Week 2018 on Tumblr! Prompt: Disguise
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me. All recognizable elements belong to Gosho.
beeep beeep beeep beeep
Across the room, an alarm clock busts into life, breaking through the early morning peace, demanding attention from the room's single occupant. He remains asleep, completely ignoring the analogue blares. He twitches as if to rise, but then merely rolls onto his stomach. The air conditioner turns on and adds to the bedroom cacophony. Fifteen minutes drag by in this fashion and then, abruptly, the alarm ends, plunging the room into deafening white noise. The boy begins to snore.
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She wakes four minutes before her alarm is set to ring; years of habit unforgiving in the face of yesternights' late work. Consciousness returns to her like glitter settling at the bottom of a snowglobe: it falls softly upon her, leisurely. The young girl straightens out and rolls onto her back, keeping her eyes closed. She lets herself enjoy the pre-dawn quiet. Her alarm will ring shortly.
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Nine minutes pass and the alarm sounds again. The elementary schooler wrinkles his eyebrows at the unwelcome interruption. He furrows deeper into his sheets, trying to drown it out but already the night's dream is slipping away. A rapid knocking breaks through the dissonant alarm noise, bringing him to full awareness.
"Conan-kun! You're going to be late for school! Wake up, please!"
Ran's voice reaches his ears but the exact words are muddled by sleep's fog. Still, he manages to understand her directive. Sitting up, he calls out, "I'm up;" his voice cracks. "I'm up," he tries again, weaker.
"Geez, turn your alarm off quickly, okay?" She doesn't wait for an answer, and her disappearing footfalls signal to him that he's alone again, free to be himself for a few moments more. He'd get up and face the day in a bit, but first…
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The alarm rings, as expected. She cuts off its soft tinkling immediately and sits up. Yawning, the small strawberry-haired girl navigates her way out of the bedroom towards the kitchen where she turns on the coffee maker. Caffeine isn't good for children because it's addictive and possibly stunts growth but it's Monday and she's technically eighteen anyway and it's Monday.
She gives herself the same rationale every morning, feeling like a hypocrite for being so strict about others' health yet so indulgent with her own body. And she indulges, everyday. Mornings are for her to be true to herself and, being completely honest, she probably couldn't make it through a whole day of pretending to be a seven-year-old without coffee.
Leaving it to brew, she heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She closes the door with a sigh and relaxes. Even though she lives with the Professor and he knows about her true identity, Shiho could never bring herself to be completely genuine in their home.
If she was ever to be discovered, the crows could interrogate Agasa on her habits to make certain their turncoat was really the eight-year-old they had traced. For anyone more sane than Gin, there was sure to be a lot of disbelief that their traitor had deaged. But her habits… they'd watched over her since she was born; they know her habits probably better than she knew them herself. They'd be able to tell.
And so to protect him, she always made sure to live life just so. She started taking her tea with honey instead of sugar, picked bell peppers off of her plate to seem more childlike, organized her closet entirely by color, and dozens of other little changes. She grew into Haibara Ai's habits, eventually, but they were still not her own.
Here, in the bathroom, she is completely free. Here, she can just be. When she leaves, she becomes Haibara Ai once again.
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He wakes, panicked, upon receiving a text from Genta. He's asking about some homework question from the packet they were assigned over the weekend. Groaning and rubbing his eyes from the cell phone glare, the chibi detective drops his phone in the middle of the bed and heads to his ensuite bathroom. It's a half an hour past when he is supposed to be up, so he's got no time to waste. The boy strips off his clothes on the way to the shower, leaving a messy trail in the middle of an otherwise clean room.
His toothbrush and toothpaste are already in the shower, and with practiced ease, he's under the hot water, brushing furiously. He fills his mouth with water from the showerhead.
Rinse. Spit. Rinse. Spit.
Shinichi blinks through the water spray. Shampoo… shampoo… He reaches for the bottles trying to make out the correct label. Ah, this is the one. He takes the shampoo into his hand and squirts a generous amount onto his open palm. As he works the soap into his hair, he sighs, feeling more awake.
The privacy of his own shower affords him a few extra moments of 'Kudo Time.' Even after all this time as Conan, he is not totally accustomed to being in character all day, everyday.
He messes up, often, much to the chagrin of Haibara. "Constant vigilance!"she'd always say.
What a nag, he chuckles and rolls his eyes.
He didn't quite buy that anyone in their right mind would suspect an elementary schooler to be a genius detective. The only reason he agreed to continue to pretend to be Conan Edogawa was to be extra careful... because if the crows ever figured out that deaging is possible by figuring out his identity, they would inevitably draw the same conclusion about Shiho Miyano and Ai Haibara. If they did anything to hurt her… no, he shakes his head. I'm protecting her.
It's not easy though, pretending to be a kid. And it is exponentially more difficult keeping the secret while living with the Mouris. He hadn't taken into account just how observant Ran was of his casual quirks.
He thinks of the other faux first grader in his class and is glad there's someone to go through this with him. Perhaps he would pay the professor and his charge a visit after school today, see if they've had any breakthroughs. In any case, he's free to take off his mask at the Professor's. It would be a welcome break.
Once he steps out of this bathroom, he'll have to be Conan. He frowns. Extended periods of being Conan make him antsy. He's well aware of how long it's been since he had a lead on the Black Organization and the more time he spends masquerading as an elementary schooler the longer his life is on hold. I need to do something. Anything.
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She steps out of the shower clean and refreshed. Pouring herself a cup of coffee from the kitchen, she decides to forego actual food for breakfast. Walking back, she grabs a brush from the cabinet in the bathroom and runs it through her hair. It's time to get ready for class, she notes.
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He's fully awake as he leaves the shower stall. He rubs a towel through his hair haphazardly and glances at the wall clock. Twenty minutes to get to class?! He rushes to get dressed.
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Shiho pulls on Ai Haibara's favorite sweater and shorts. She straightens the collar, pulls her hair into twin pigtails, and packs her lunch. She resolved to play her part as a first grader especially well today. She would scream at bugs and smile extra bright at her friends and everything else expected of her. Kudo's going to laugh at this.
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Shinichi slips into Conan Edogawa's trademark shorts, button up shirt, and blue jacket. He knots Conan's iconic red bowtie. I'll grab an apple on my way out the door. A glance at the mirror tells him his hair is a hopeless case, again. Ah, almost forgot the glasses. He slips them on and brushes his bangs aside to accommodate them.
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She stalls at the mirror in the bathroom and makes a face. Happier. Brighter. More excited. She shakes her head slightly to try and boost her nonexistent excitement. Shiho practices what she thinks is a childish pout and tries to remember what the books on body language said. Chin down so you can look up at people. Mouth closed and jaw lowered for a pout that's not too fake. Non-threatening. She can't afford to mess up. I have people to protect.
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Big smile. He stretches his grin as wide as he can. Eyebrows up, he thought of the advice his mom had given him. For that extra excited and eager look. Another layer of lies. Another wall to hide behind. Working from the shadows doesn't suit him, but he must have patience. There's a longer game at stake. It spurs him on.
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They fill their backpacks before they head out. Last night's addition sheet. A page of kanji practice. A paragraph of forced sloppy handwriting about their favorite colors. A box of crayons. Cute mechanical pencils. Animal shaped erasers. He packs a comic book he'd opened once and creased to make it look like he'd read it a dozen times. She put in a small plush doll, her "desk buddy".
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Their transformations are complete. They've dressed for their parts, stocked the right props, and rehearsed their cues, like all the best players do. They've all but fully become their characters. It's difficult for them to be in costume for so long but they have their few private moments in between tiled walls and mirrors to remind themselves that their everyday is just a masquerade… so they can protect those who could be caught in the crossfire.
Word Count: 1599