Title: Dimensions
Author: RanMouri82
Word Count: 727
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Detective Conan is owned by Aoyama Gosho. I just use his characters as hand puppets. Say hi to the nice people!
Spoilers: Reference to Vol 31-5
Characters: Conan and Ai
Notes: As Ai described her fully grown appearance, Conan could finally see her. But 'dimensions' has more than one meaning! For GirlquinndreameR, prompt of "... uh... Ran. Please?"
Dimensions
A young boy and girl, looking to the rest of the world like tired—or lazy—grade schoolers, rested in the park beneath a shady tree, sharing a long, companionable silence.
In truth, Edogawa Conan had a question for the shrunken chemist who was now engaged in the fine art of spinning a leaf stem. This question had often bubbled to the surface of his mind, but with no good moment for the asking; so much had happened lately, and at last now seemed a good a time as any. "Hey, Haibara?"
"Hmm?" Ai replied, glancing at him with her trademark unreadable stare.
Conan scratched his head, racking his normally sharp brain for a way the question would not sound wrong. "Uh, how . . . do you look?"
"How do I look?" Ai muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. She stretched out the legs she had formerly drawn to her chest and sighed. "I thought I looked fine when I left the house this morning, but—"
"No, you idiot, you look fine," Conan bit back, with a scowl. Time to rephrase. "I mean, what do you look like, or—" he continued, reaching his hands behind his head, "what did you look like, before?"
Ai blinked, but then chuckled softly and leaned forward with a smirk. "And why exactly do you want to know?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Conan grumbled. This was exactly what he had feared: the third degree. "We only met after you shrank, right? And you already knew how I looked from pictures, though you didn't have any pictures of yourself. I did see you that night on the rooftop, but it wasn't exactly under the best circumstances. How am I supposed to picture how you really are if I can't see you?"
"Aww, how sweet. You think of me that much?" Ai teased, eliciting further grumbles from the high school-turned-elementary detective. She paused, drawing her knees up again and resting her chin on them; nearby, the Detective Boys were playing a severely modified game of soccer with Sonoko and Ran.
Drawing her lips into a sad smile, she began, "Fully grown, I'm a bit taller than average—approximately 162 cm last I checked, but that was long ago. My hair is the same, obviously," she said, tugging at her sandy hair as it glinted red in the dappled sunlight, "but it doesn't overwhelm my face. This is just conjecture, but I think I walk with an even straighter posture due to my height, and . . . ."
As Conan listened, a smile grew on his face to spite his sizeable glasses. He believed, deep down, that Ai should know—should remember—who she was; recently, both of them had narrowly escaped death, after all, and . . . he was glad she was willing to clear up some of the mystery that distanced her from everyone else. As she spoke, he could finally imagine, like a projection behind her, Miyano Shiho.
" . . . and as for my figure, well, I'd say that it's rather full, like an hourglass. Though," she said, startling Conan by shooting a glance his way, "if you don't mind, I won't give you the measurements."
"H-Haibara!" Conan stammered, the serene moment gone. "I didn't ASK—"
"Oh, there you are!" chirped a cute, girlish voice. Suddenly peering from behind the rough tree trunk was Ayumi, who giggled at her two friends. "Are you two talking about Ran-neechan?"
Conan blinked. "Huh?"
"Well, you were saying she looks like an hourglass, right?" Ayumi asked, innocently. "Ran-neechan's pretty, so—"
But before Conan could open his mouth to change the subject, Haibara Ai shrugged and said, "I suppose so. If anything, her body is good for sex."
Conan flushed ten shades of flaming red. Leaping to his feet, he flung a finger at Ai and choked out, "W-what do you think you're—"
"Oh?" Ai asked, cocking her head to the side and allowing a beam of gold to flash across her ice blue gaze. "You can't speak from experience?"
"OF C-COURSE NOT!" he spluttered, though Ayumi had already grabbed Ai's hand and begun to lead her away. Enfuriated, Conan kicked the root of the tree. What was with that woman?
However, as the oblivious-yet-inquisitive Ayumi went on to ask about the size of Sonoko's butt, Conan sighed and grinned . . . eventually. Many layered barriers still enclosed Miyano Shiho, but for now, at least he could see her.
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I'm honestly proud of this one. Prompt aside, this was inspired by my own curiosity of what the heck Conan and Ai had been discussing when Ayumi heard the infamous line. Conan and Ai's banter is so much fun to write, and I just adore Miss Miyano in all her troubled, at times scathing, yet ultimately kind glory. Thanks for reading, and please review!