( Disclaimer: I do not own either Death Note or Detective Conan. I'm just borrowing the characters to do horrible things to them. :Db )
Light Yagami had no idea how he'd somehow gotten roped into a babysitting. His dad informed him that he had a job for him-a job Sayu was probably much more suited for as Light had things he'd rather be doing than staring down a seven year old brat. An extremely distrustful seven year old brat it seemed as the kid was staring rather intently at him. Something about his stare made Light slightly uneasy but he tried to ignore it. After all, what could a child do?
Neither had yet to say anything to one another. They were introduced, Light was given several contact number incase of an emergency and left alone with the kid. He assured the Mouri girl that it was no trouble and she took off to Karate practice. It was a good thing he'd filled in three days worth of names otherwise he might have felt quite a bit more irate about being forced into this.
Light helped with his little sister when he was younger but now he hadn't faintest clue how to handle a kid. Especially not this one-famous for foiling the infamous Kaitou Kid's plans. He wondered if he should say something to the kid-lay down ground rules, introduce himself formally or just try to get to know him just incase this happened again. He could tell by how little Conan was staring at him that he was about as happy with the arrangement as Light was. He was warned that this kid was smart and that he'd need to keep a constant eye on him, but if Conan wanted to just sit here and stare at him from across the coffee table then it made the job that much easier.
"Ne, have you been taking practice tests?" The question sounded so innocent and natural that it might have slid right over anyone else's head. Light stared at the child, eyes narrowing slightly. How did he know?
"Aa. Did my father tell you that I'll be applying to university?" He answered watching as the child shook his head once and pointed to Light's right arm. Light looked at it too.
"You have question two-hundred-twenty-five imprinted on your arm." Such a simple explanation. "Your dad did mention that you want to be a police detective and that you're about to be eightteen-at that age you're probably preparing for college. It could have been a real test but testing doesn't open up until January and midterms are over-the only way you'd have a test packet going up over two hundred and twenty five questions is if it was a practice test for university."
The way he explained it made it seem like such a simple deduction-like it wasn't even worth noting that he'd just accurately deduced what Light Yagami had been doing an hour before he'd gotten to the detective agency. At his age 'impressive' was an understatement.
"You are exactly right." Light admitted, trying to rub the faded question off his wrist and watching as Conan's lips quirked up into a small smile. He was obviously proud of his deduction. "I was studying to take the entrance exam for To-Oh University, but watching you for a few hours certainly won't hurt my final score. Anything else you've noticed?"
"Nothing that stands out." Conan shrugged with an overly innocent chirp. There was something he'd noticed, he just didn't want to say it outloud. Maybe he could coax him into it?
"Conan." Light tested the child's name, bright innocent eyes snapping up to meet his. "That's a bit of an odd name for a Japanese child isn't it?" Not that Light had much room to speak where names were concerned.
"It comes from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle." The child explained with a small shrug. "My dad is a big fan." His tone was even and words rolled off his tongue without an ounce of hesitation it couldn't be anything but the truth. More than that, the casual way in which he'd answered suggested he'd been asked the question before. However, there was an irritating chuckle coming from the houseguest that little Conan was unaware of. What did Ryuk find to be so funny? That Kira was being forced to make small talk with a seven year old. "Are you a fan?"
"Of course! Who isn't a fan of the great Sherlock Holmes?" Conan brightened, seeming to almost relax. With that deduction then Light really should have known that he'd be a fan. "Have you read it?"
"Once, when I was in middle school." Light found it to be irritatingly inconsistent but he wasn't about tell him that. Especially since it seemed Conan was starting to warm up to him at just the mention of Sherlock Holmes. "It's an impressive series. Is that where you learned your observation skills?"
"Exactly!" Conan nodded happily. "It's important for a detective to be able to see and observe." Which meant he had to have read more than he revealed. It couldn't have been anything to do with Kira-that wasn't something Sherlock Holmes could deduce let alone a child.
"I agree." Light offered affably.
"Then can you do it?" Conan asked eagerly, those bright, innocent eyes locked uncomfortably on him. Conan wanted him to observe-to offer up pinpoint deductions like this child had done. He'd never attempted to make deductions a la Sherlock Holmes before but Conan had made it seem like child's play. How hard could it be?
"What would you like me to deduce?" Light questioned. Conan gave him an unimpressed look.
"I don't want you to deduce. I want you to observe." Seriously? Did this child just correct him? So far watching this child was vaguely unnerving and irritating.
"What would you like me to observe?" Light corrected his question.
"If I have to tell you, then it's not really you observing is it? Pick something." Light took a breath and tried not to show Conan that he was irritating him. For all he knew that's exactly what this child's plan was. Why had he agreed to watching this brat?
"Find something for me to draw observations from." Light requested, keeping his voice nice and even. Conan slid off the couch across from him and went to the cluttered desk that nearly made Light cringe. It was covered in cigarette butts and beer cans. It was a wonder if Conan could find anything in that mess. He watched as the child pulled the swivel chair from behind the desk, pushed up against the window and pulled the glass back. Light could feel that the heater was on-he should probably tell Conan to close the window.
Before he had a chance to though, Conan spun the chair around, hopped out and dashed for the door, tearing it open and racing outside. This was why no one wanted to be charged with watching him, Light realised as he was forced to get up and give chase-just as he got out the door he could see the small child race through traffic-nearly get hit by an oncoming car-and over to the sidewalk across the street. Yes, it was quite apparent why Mouri Ran had been so apologetic about leaving them alone.
Light moved to the crosswalk, waited for the light to turn green and casually strolled over to a small cluster of people. He pushed his way through and saw immediately what had caused Conan to leave the agency in such a hurry-a man had collapsed on the sidewalk. Light didn't recognise him but that didn't necessarily mean it hadn't been his handiwork.
"What happened?" Light asked, watching as the child sifted through the man's things-pulling a wallet out of the breast pocket.
"Cyanide. It was probably in the cigarette." Conan stated in a cool, even tone. He didn't sound anything like he had when he was urging Light to make deductions. "His lips and fingertips have a purple tint-it's an indication of cyanide poisoning."
So it had been a blatant murder. And one that had happened just outside the building he was in. If the victim had been a criminal and one of Kira's victims then Light wouldn't have cared-he'd have told Conan to leave it to the police and come back inside before he caught a cold. This was personal.
"His name is Hanashi Ryosuke. Aged thirty-two." Conan was saying in that same cool and even tone. He wasn't even slightly moved by the dead body that had nearly dropped on his doorstep. He was looking at it like a challenge-a puzzle. Probably his way of desensitising himself to the crime. Conan dug into the man's pockets again and pulled out a small stack of business cards. His eyes snapped from the text printed on the card to the dead man's face to the likely poisoned cigarette by his hand-expression contemplative. "Video game engineer."