Word Count: 2925
Rating: G for Gosho Aoyama.
Disclaimer: see rating.
Spoilers: Mention of Moroboshi Dai.
Characters/Pairings: Shinichi and Shiho
Notes: dedicated to Teainapot who kinda/sorta asked for Shinichi/Shiho ficcage in a train during a chat session. I drabbled a bit, wrote the rest, then tried to blackmail Claude-le-noctambule with it. That was ages ago, and the blackmail is no longer effective. So am posting.
Thanks to Astarael for her swift beta!
New beginnings.
"The wheels on the bus go round and round..."
For some reason, the song was stuck in her head. She had sung it as a child the first time around, when her legal guardians had arranged English lessons as they decided she would soon need to be fluent in that language. For some reason, however, the person singing it in her mind appeared to be Ayumi. A small Japanese child, expected to be as fluent in the language of Shakespeare as any other: not very. It intrigued her, and she kept wondering why it was that she was picturing one of her best friends doing something she knew she couldn't have done, at least not yet.
But she didn't really have the time or leisure to ponder deeply on the issue. She had to help Kudo move his bag so he could put it above their seats. She handed him her own, keeping out a small laptop. She fully intended to use it on this journey until the battery died. She did not want a nasty surprise. She had to double check that the antidote they had both taken, which had allowed them to come this far, would not fail them. Now she had the extra information with which to make sure.
She let him take the window seat as she pulled the cap further down above her eyes. Now that she was back to her normal size, she wasn't as certain about the efficiency of the headgear at hiding her identity, but at least it hid the colour of her curls from distant onlookers. The two spent the bus journey hardly exchanging any words, she revelling in narrowness of the seats as she read from and typed at the object on her knees, he making phone calls to various participants in his ambitious project of the day, his bow tie unused, hidden in the depths of his backpack.
"Round and round, round and round..."
And still the wheels turned.
By the time they arrived at the train station, the song had faded from Shiho Miyano's thoughts, just as the light coming from the laptop's screen had faded when the battery finally gave up. Shinichi Kudo had taken up by then a clumsy little whistle, his phone folded up in his shirt pocket. The two were among the last to leave the bus, waiting for the others to vacate first so they could take down their luggage without any bustle. It was the terminus for the bus. It was only the first leg of their journey back to Tokyo. They had two hours before their train left.
When they got into the station, she had to fight a small moment of panic, as she thought she saw a shimmer of silver hair amongst the crowd of travellers. Kudo did not seem to take her concern seriously (curse him!) but he had the courtesy to quickly pull her into a less crowded corner of the station, sit her down, help her breathe properly again. He offered to go and buy them some sandwiches, so she wouldn't have to face the hustle of a restaurant area. She nodded.
The sandwiches turned out to be rather on the lean side. A slice of ham, butter, the skinniest bit of cheese she could recall and a very small, lonely lettuce leaf. Still, it was a good lunch for the price Kudo claimed to have paid, and the cans of iced coffee he had also bought were cool and revitalizing. Neither had gotten an early night.
Once Kudo had acquired their tickets, they spent their remaining time discussing in quiet tones the events of the previous days, reassessing what had happened, what had been done and what needed to be done. They both kept an alert eye on their surroundings. Secretly, Shiho wondered how it was Kudo's luck hadn't struck them yet, but she was glad there was no murder case to distract him from their journey.
The train they got on looked old and tired. The paint was peeling in places and the dust and mud from the tracks had splashed the carriages, giving them a skirt of dirt brown. On the inside the seats weren't in much better shape, many were bare-threaded and worn. But they were comfortable enough to sit on, and sit on them they did. This time Kudo convinced Shiho to sit by the window. It was opposite the platform and they would be travelling along the coast. No reason for her not to enjoy the view.
Somehow, as they sat there waiting for the train to start, her thoughts drifted to the one she had known as Moroboshi Dai. She recalled his face, the one she had glimpsed that day when the detective boys had helped an Englishman named Black. His cool and sharp gaze had pierced through her the way it always had. She had been certain he had recognized her, but the moment had been so brief, and Kudo had been so oblivious, that she had discarded the thought, putting it down to nerves. But now that she thought back to that moment, and the few similar ones that followed, she realized how tired he had looked... Battered and worn, just like this train. Idly she wondered what had become of him. He had been a member of the Organisation, most likely still was. Probably one of the many catches-to-be of the plan Kudo had now put into action.
On second thought, she did not want to find out what had become of him.
Annoyed at herself, she thought back to the song that had plagued her thoughts earlier and stared out the window. Kudo had pulled out a book he had obviously bought at the same time as their lunches. A murder-mystery, of course. There was no more conversation to be made.
"The wheels on the train go round and round, all through the town."
Shiho could still hear the rumble of the wheels on the tracks below, but she had long stopped listening, just as she had stopped seeing the alternating sea and fields through the window. Her head was leaning against the cool glass pane, and her breath came soft and slow. She was on the verge of sleep. Last night had truly been a long night, and she trusted her fellow voyager to look out for them, to cover and hide her from their eyes if need be.
And Shinichi? He looked at her, smiled, and ruffled her hair. He held her unmoving hand as he watched the rest of the carriage. Had she not been falling into the arms of slumber, she might have remarked upon this unusual behaviour of his.
He hadn't told her yet, that he'd just got a text message back from officer Takagi.
Their battle was over. Now, she was free. They were going home.
"The drops on the window go patter patter, patter patter..."
Shiho awoke from her dream. The little Japanese girl had been singing in English again. She had been wrong in thinking it had been Ayumi, she knew that now. She had recognized the singer in her dream, but now awake she could not recall who it had been. The memory of recognition worked at her thoughts as she glanced through the window at the spattered drops of rain on the other side. The sky had turned ash-grey, the sea was faithfully mirroring the colour. A dash of darker colour, coal-black, seemed to emerge among the dots of water. Its contours were blurred, but after a few moments of wonder, she recognized what it was. A bridge, its red-coated arms of iron turned dark by the shadows of clouds and the grizzle of rain.
She felt a touch on her shoulder, a voice intruding on the song in her head.
We'll be there soon.
She adjusted her eyes, and recognized Kudo on the reflection in the glass. She sat up, yawned and stretched while the cap on her head fell down to her lap.
Unsurprisingly enough, Shinichi Kudo had found a case to keep him busy while Shiho had slept. Something to do with a boy, a baker and a candlestick maker. There had been a knife involved, a tub of cream and a dead body. Once reassured that the mystery magnet had still had the presence of mind to hide his true identity, in this case with Conan's glasses, again, Shiho was thankful that she had not been awakened to witness the situation. She had one American children's song stuck in her head already, she did not need another one.
The case had slowed down their journey though, the train having had to stop a bit longer at one of the stations on the way so that the police could apprehend the culprit and ensure that everything was in order. Kudo had somehow negotiated in favour of letting the train get on with its journey as normal, so Shiho had slept on unaware. The only real change the case had made to their schedule was that instead of having to wait an hour for their connection, they would just have to go straight to the platform in question.
They left their seats promptly when the doors opened, the only trace of their presence the book Kudo had discarded ("Poorly written" he explained) and the wrapper of an extra lunch he had bought from the trolley after Shiho had fallen asleep.
"Patter patter, patter patter."
Shiho Miyano was not amused when she saw what arrangement Kudo had made for the final stretch of their journey. The cabin stared at her, aware of its own smallness, not repenting in the slightest that it only offered one sleeping accommodation for the two of them. They would be sharing it overnight. She sighed.
She waved away Kudo's explanations and offer to ask the train master to find a spare cabin for her, as had been his intention before the case had eaten away at his opportunity to do so. They had shared a bed before, even if it was prior to their getting their adult bodies back. Besides, she had slept enough on the previous train, and could waste most of the night away on the small stool using the plug and wireless internet connection this train was fortunate enough to provide. There hadn't been any other cabins free when he had bought the tickets? So be it.
Kudo relented, she went to find the dinner carriage.
Did he want her to bring back some food for him too? Sure.
Sure...
By the time she returned, he had fallen fast asleep on the seat turned bed. His jacket was hooked up behind the door, but he still had his clothes on. Somehow he had managed to kick off one of his shoes, the other hanging hap hazardously from his big toe.
Shiho shook her head, placed his dinner on the small shelf above him, sat down and ate her own.
"The travellers on the train go fast asleep, fast asleep, fast asleep."
She peered out the window at the landscape rushing past. All she could see was darkness, the odd shower of rain illuminated by a fleeting lamp post, and the reflection of a young woman with a bob of tea coloured hair and secretive eyes. A reflection she could now call her own.
She had double checked her calculations and her formula all over again until her eyes hurt. They would not be turning back to their childhood selves again. In a way, she was only truly beginning to realize what this meant. She would no longer be seeing the strange foreign child in the mirror now, only the stranger she had grown up with as her self-image, one that had grown up with her.
She turned her face towards the bed. No longer would she interact with a short boy with large glasses burdening his nose, a quiet longing in his eyes and a sharp edge to his childish quips. Instead, she would have to face his alter ego, this Shinichi Kudo of whom she had heard so much, yet currently felt as though she knew so little about.
Yes, there were some stark differences between Kudo and Edogawa. The most obvious one was his height. The other one was his attitude. She had noticed it before, on the rare occasions Kudo had tested her prototype antidotes. When returned to his true body, he would lose some of his cautious attitude, finding it to be replaced with his pride in his own intellect. He no longer had to hide it in order not to be conspicuous. Some of his inhibitions, forgotten as he had faced life as a seven year old, had returned too. He did not seem to speak his mind as much, sometimes using a little insolence in order to erect barriers between him and others. One expected a little boy to show some dependence. A man was not expected to show any.
She would miss Edogawa, she knew that already. She would miss the exclusive bond there had been between Haibara and the boy. It would still exist to some extent, she knew, but it wouldn't be the same.
Kudo shifted in his sleep. She paused, then went to sit on the mattress next to him.
Shiho had not had the time to observe him properly since they had turned back. There had been preparations, a confrontation, a journey and more planning to take care of. She smiled, as she found that yes, his face was still as handsome as she recalled it being when she had first got a good look at his adult self in person. It had been months ago, that morning where she had taken the place of a boy with glasses, where the boy with glasses had turned out to be the young man grinning at his bathroom mirror. His beauty was still as insolent as ever.
Such a clever mind had no business looking so innocent.
She continued to sit there for a while, watching Kudo sleep, thinking about what the future held, theorising about how their friendship would evolve if- no, when they completed their plan to defeat the organisation.
By the time the rain had stopped, and the dark blue of the early pre-dawn sky could be spotted through their window and the curtains, she too had fallen asleep. The two lay side by side, a dark haired youth next to the auburn haired girl. A cover had been thrown upon the young man, and somehow he'd come to share it with his travelling companion.
"The travellers on the train go fast asleep, fast asleep, fast asleep, all night long."
This time, when she awoke, Shiho took extra care to remember the dream. It had been the young girl again, singing the same foreign song. She could recall who the girl was now, and a melancholic smile graced her face as she sat up. It figured.
"The wheels of our lives go round and round, round and round, round and round..."
Kudo was already up and about. He sat on the stool, eating from a small plastic bowl. Another sat on the table beside him. He reached for it.
Good morning, sleepy head. Breakfast?
She accepted the offering, glad that he did not seem to even be considering questioning her having fallen asleep beside him. She glanced out the window to notice the green flanks of Mount Fuji. Not long now till they were back in Tokyo. Not long till it was all over.
By the way, he said. You know that plan you said would never work?
Shiho knew he was referring to the first plan he had come up with to tie up the loose ends that had popped up after the confrontation the night prior. It had been an idealistic proposal. One that she had quickly demanded be compensated for with strict safeguards if he even dreamed of attempting it. She ate on and waited for him to continue.
It worked. Without a hitch. Officer Takagi confirmed it yesterday.
She stopped eating and stared at him. His insolent grin was telling her that he was serious. His eyes sparkled.
We're free of their shadow now, Miyano. The Black Organisation is no more.
She put the bowl down. Her hand went to her mouth.
"The wheels of our lives go round and round, and bring us new beginnings!"
A young girl, her hair black and her eyes brave sang a foreign song to her younger sibling. The sister was going to a foreign land, and the young girl thought that she was needed to reassure her. She could only go so far with her, in the bus their guardians had made them take. She couldn't go with her on the plane, so she sang a song in the language they had been drilling into her sister's head, the language her mother had sometimes whispered and sung to her at night in, all those years ago. She had to make it a song of hope, a song that would remind her sibling of her promise to be there for her again, whatever happened across the sea. She made the younger girl sing with her.
And this memory would return in the younger girl's thoughts, many years later, as a detective frowned in puzzlement at a young scientist's combined smile and tears.
Fin.