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Sunlight rippled through the kitchen window as a gentle breeze stirred the pages of her neglected magazine and cooled her once steaming tea to lukewarmness. Cars of working men and women rumbled on the nearby road while schoolchildren giggled about the day's simple events as they arrived home. None and all of this mattered to the young woman who sat beside the window with her chin in her hand, lost in thought.

What will I do now? she mused. Though she had given a flippant answer to the question a week ago, it was the question that, like little else, now plagued Miyano Shiho.

Shiho glanced at the metal-rimmed clock above the stove. School had let out over an hour ago; Shiho pictured herself returning with the day's load of menial, elementary homework, determined to put in a few hours in the lab before bed. At this, she thought bitterly, Professor Agasa might as well have forced me to leave. It would've given me something to do.

But she knew he would never do that. In fact, this afternoon he had tried several times to convince her to join him for grocery shopping. He even argued that she would pick the healthiest foods. She declined for reasons even she did not understand.

Am I . . . afraid? she wondered, sipping her tea—until she winced. She needed to warm it badly.

Brrrriiiiing! The phone rang like an alarm bell to interrupt her thoughts. Reaching for the telephone, Shiho murmured, "Moshi moshi?"

"Oh, hey, Hai—Miyano," came a partly distracted voice she knew too well. "Sorry."

"Never mind, Kudou. Tell me, have you been sent to detention yet?" Shiho asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What? That's crazy!"

"Maybe not, since it's after four and you still haven't arrived for your round of tests. We can't be too careful, Kudou, and you know it," she said, groaning inwardly because she knew what his explanation would be.

"That was today? I'm just on my way back from walking Ran home . . . sorry, Miyano, but everything's been so—you know."

Actually, I don't, she thought, with a sigh. "Can you still come this evening?"

"No, that's what I called to say," Shin'ichi replied. Static began to break up his voice, but he continued, "Inspector Megure's calling me in because of the investigations in America, so tell Agasa that I'll need to take a raincheck on dinner."

As Shiho tried to calm the fluttering in her stomach that started every time he mentioned the syndicate investigations, she asked, "Inspector Megure . . . he doesn't need—"

"No, don't worry, Miyano. He doesn't need to speak with you." Static crackled once more on Shin'ichi's end as he paused and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes—I should go, anyhow," Shiho replied, tugging at the telephone cord. "You're breaking up. Ja ne."

Without waiting for a response, Shiho hung up the phone and turned toward the stove, where there rested a simmering pot of tea. Her icy fingers clutched the teapot, seeking its warmth; chamomile aroma wafted toward her, tickling her nose as Akemi used to do when they were children. Whether or not justice would be done in the end, Shiho felt unsure, though she never concerned herself much with justice. She merely craved the solace of chamomile.

Refilling her cup, Shiho returned to the kitchen table and allowed her gaze to drift to the world outside. Despite its duplicity, living in the guise of a child had been a niche; she belonged there, then. After all, Haibara Ai had no other options—just life or death.

Shiho looked more closely at the glass and, in the dappled shadows, spied her reflection.

Ding dong!

Blinking, Shiho rose and walked to the front door. Who could that be? As fears again fluttered in her stomach, she took a deep breath, waited a few seconds, and answered the door.

A strange sight greeted her—after she lowered her eyes to the ground. Standing there were three children, the smallest of which lifted a box tied with a large, red ribbon.

"Um, Miss Shiho?" the girl asked shyly, while the two boys behind her fumbled with their shirt buttons. When Shiho stared in reply, Ayumi continued. "We wanted to come by because, um, it's probably kind of lonely not being able to come with us to school anymore, and . . . um . . . ."

"We brought you a present," Mitsuhiko finished for her, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "It's not much, but—"

"But we really bought it!" Genta interrupted, earning a frown from Mitsuhiko. "We made it, too!"

In silence, Shiho reached forward to take the present. When it became obvious that the Detective Boys would not leave until she opened it, she tugged at the silk ribbon and peered into the box to find, nestled in purple tissue paper, a thick, crushed velvet binder.

"It's a photo album!" Ayumi chirped. "Just look inside!"

Swallowing hard, Shiho opened the album. Many pictures filled the pages, framed by cutouts of construction paper, showing trips to the beach, completed school projects, and many camping trips. After flipping a few pages, however, Shiho realized something strange: half of the album was empty.

"And that's on purpose," said Mitsuhiko with an authoritative air, answering her unasked question. "We figured you'd need space for when we fill up the rest!"

Shiho froze. The late afternoon breeze blew past them all, ruffling their hair.

"M-Miss Shiho? Do you like it?" asked Ayumi, whose face fell with concern.

After struggling to speak, Shiho gave the children a small smile and nodded. "Mmm hmm."

The Detective Boys turned toward each other with fists rising in celebration—but Shiho, in spite of herself, interrupted.

"Would you . . . like to stay for dinner? Professor should be back soon."

"Yeah!" the children cried, each beginning to fly into conversation as they tumbled inside the house; Shiho let them ramble as long as they wished, wondering if this was her answer. Maybe she did not need to find her niche—or her home. Maybe, just maybe, it was already here.

Author's Note: This idea just fell out of my head and onto the page--well, in the space of a few hours. It's been awhile since I tried to write drama, so please let me know if my writing's too flowery. To answer a reviewer, I added two words to one of Ayumi's sentences: "with us". That should make things clear! Please review!