Summary: In which, Shinichi talks with the Miyano sisters, and the others begin their own investigations.

Notes: Shinichi's meeting with Miyano's occurs on the same day Kaito breaks out of hospital. This is the same with SaguRan / HeiKazu scenes from ch34-35. I hope you guys enjoy the update, even if it's been a while since the last one!

He's not sure why the offer of a deal fills him with dread.

Maybe because Shinichi hasn't been offered something that doesn't come with a hidden backlash in a long time. For a moment, he is still, wondering whether it's some sort of trick to install a fake sense of security in him. Then, he decides that he can worry over it when he's got more information.

"What kind of deal?" Shinichi says.

He turns, looks around the room and finds nothing. Simply paranoia? Do they want him to keep talking so that they can bring people to capture him, lead him away to his death in handcuffs again?

Fuck. When did trusting people become so hard?

"If you help us," Akai says, "then we'll help you. There's a free space in the witness protection programme. If you want to take it after all of this, it's yours."

Witness protection.

Shinichi lifts his hand to his neck, digs his nails into the bandages and scrapes them down. There's so much there, he isn't sure whether he should unravel it now. Would he want to live in witness protection for the rest of his life? Give up who he is as Kudo Shinichi to…

"I'll help you," Shinichi says. "I don't know if I want to go into witness protection, but… but I'll help you."

He forces his hand down, ignores the welling of blood he can feel. Already, he can see Kazuha in his mind telling him off for scratching again. Kazuha–

Two names of people who'd been helping him. A trick, this could all be a trick for those names. If they ask for names of accomplices, then the only one he can possibly give is Kaito's. After all, he's the only one who's been confirmed as an accomplice.

"I'll help you," Shinichi continues, "but we do this my way."

"You need us more than we need you Kudo," Shiho says, leaning forward. Her eyes are narrowed, as if judging him. Shinichi refuses to let her intimidate him, because, realistically, isn't he the one with the evidence they need?

"Shiho–"

Akai puts a hand on Akemi's shoulder, as if saying it's alright for the younger Miyano to speak. Then, he says, "We do things in a way we can both agree on. We need to trust one another."

"I'll work with you." Shinichi says, "but the people I work with, they won't be involved. I'm not implicating them any more than they already are."

Akai nods his head. He says, "You don't want us to know who they are? That's fine, we won't ask for you to explicitly tell us."

Shinichi narrows his eyes. "I won't tell you inexplicitly either. If you start looking into them, then I'll pull back and we'll all go underground."

Well, he's not certain Hattori and Kazuha would disappear from their day-to-day lives, and Shinichi know she's unwilling to drop the case, not now, but there would be some sort of disappearing act from them all.

There's some sort of bluff here, Shinichi knows, but he wonders if they can read into it.

"We don't need to go looking to know that Kuroba Kaito was an accomplice," Akai says. "And seeing as Nakamori Aoko broke him out from hospital this morning, it's clear to say she's an accomplice too."

Shinichi schools his expression into something unreadable. Nakamori Aoko? Hadn't Kaito mentioned how she hated him after she'd learned about his other identity?

It's a question for another time, he supposes. Something for when he finds Kaito again. If he finds Kaito again.

He says, "Well, if you know KID, he's very good at disappearing acts. As his best friend, Nakamori-san probably knows how to do a pretty good job of it too."

Akai dips his head in a nod. Shinichi wonders if the man knows anything else, whether he's suspicious about whether they were working with anyone else.

"We suspected as such," Akemi says.

Shinichi takes a moment to consider his next move and stands up instead. He says, "I'll need to go and make copies of my evidence and get it to you. Is there a way I can contact you?"

"We've got a burner phone for you," Akai says, and leans into a bag, pulling out a phone. "The numbers are inside."

Sure, Shinichi thinks. A lot more could be inside. A tracker, something to log every key he pushes and capture all the numbers he phones. And oh – there's no limit to what devices they could add.

Still, Shinichi offers a smile and takes the phone.

He'll pick up another soon and transfer the number over. He won't let them track him, follow him. He knows the organisation spreads over into the police force, who's to say it won't spread into the FBI?

Shinichi offers a small smile, nods to the trio and says, "I'll let you all know when I've got all the evidence in one place."

The museum is cordoned off when they arrive.

Not all of it. The lower floors are still open to the public, and it's that entry point that they use to get inside. They use the wheelchair again, pushing clothes and disguise makeup into the cushion, so that when the guards look in Aoko's purse, there is nothing suspicious to be found.

Not that they would. There's little for security guards to suspect in an elderly woman, with long, greying hair, and her chair-bound husband. Especially not in those who're completely complicit in the searches, with nothing to hide.

And if anyone notices the elderly man's wince as he lifts his arm to take his wife's bag and hold onto it for her, then, they're not going to assume it's anything other than arthritis.

"Upstairs," Kaito says to her, his voice morphing into a mixture of rugged and frail. "There's a wonderful exhibit upstairs."

It's as they're reaching the elevators that they realise it's off-limits. The stairs are cordoned off, and the elevators won't take them to the upper floors.

Aoko glances at Kaito. Waits for him to arch his neck and point towards the public restrooms.

They wheel the chair towards the disabled bathroom. Locking the door behind her, Aoko turns to Kaito. She says, "What now?"

There's no way they'll be able to climb upstairs, not in broad daylight, not when there are people making sure no one goes up. The elevators are down, and the outside is too… maybe at night they're something they could climb, but now, it's nigh impossible.

And even then, if they came back, they wouldn't be able to climb. Aoko doubts Kaito could even make his way up without injuring his arm further.

"We find another way," Kaito says. "I have an idea for it. I've spent a pretty long time coming up with routes around this museum."

Of course.

He's failed to leave this place twice now without being caught. Kaito probably only needs to look at the entrances to feel the sting of handcuffs around his wrists.

"What are you thinking?" Aoko says. Kaito jumps up from the wheelchair, makes his way towards the mirror, breathes close to it to fog it up. Then, with his pinkie finger, he draws a quick diagram on the mirror.

"This is the layout of the bottom floor," Kaito says. As if it totally normal to go into a disabled bathroom and draw floorplans on a fogged-up mirror. "Just past the restaurant, there's a staff elevator. Remember how when they opened the Cullinan diamond exhibit, they made it a full event? Brought up champagne and a buffet? They used that elevator to get up."

Aoko remembers the exhibit, yes, but it is not the champagne and food she remembers. Either way, she nods.

"You used it to get up too, didn't you?"

Kaito nods. He says, "if we can get past the restaurant staff, through the kitchen, then we can get to the staff elevator. Then, it's just a manner of being in and out quickly enough that no one can catch us nosing around."

Nodding her head, Aoko turns, looks back at the wheelchair. She says, "we're going to have to leave the wheelchair behind then. If we go pushing you inside the kitchens in a wheelchair, it's only going to bring attention."

He sends her a grin. Then, "Of course, I know that. The disguises are going to have to go. The staff were all young last time I checked in the restaurant."

The disguises would have to be scrapped – and with them, their clothes. They're not the kind of thing young people would wear. How lucky that they'd thought ahead, bringing another pair of clothing for a younger disguise.

She grabs the pillow of the wheelchair, unzips it and pulls out the contents. Two pairs of jeans, each their size, and then a button up shirt for Kaito, and a light blouse for her. She places the clothes on the top of the chair, before reaching up to the mask she's wearing.

She peels it off within seconds. It's not designed to last, is designed to come off easily, rather than stick until solvent is used to pry it off. It rips around her nose, and Aoko peers through the foggy mirror, picking the final bits off.

Kaito follows suit, although he's quicker than she is. Then, he removes the wig he'd been wearing, removes grey and a wig cap so his natural brown sits back in a mess around his hair.

Aoko removes her wig, looks at him and passes him his clothes.

"Aoko," Kaito says, more serious than she'd been expecting him to be, as he leans forward and pushes the wig into the cushion, depositing the previous mask in the one of the bins. "I've got a small problem."

Aoko waits, watches as Kaito lifts his uninjured arm, pointing at his bandaged one. She tilts her head, as if to force him to say the words and waits.

"I was shot." Kaito says.

"Yes," Aoko responds. She breathes out a small laugh. "You've spent so long with that detective, that now, your observational skills are outstanding."

Kaito huffs, "it hurts to move my arm a lot. Can you help?"

Her expression softens, and Aoko dips her head, nodding. It's the least she can do, since the injury is partly because of her. She steps towards him, unbuttoning the first two buttons before hesitating.

She flushes.

"Don't make it weird," Kaito mutters, under his breath. When her gaze flashes up to meet his though, she can see the faint smirk, a level of satisfaction in the gleam of his eyes.

Aoko narrows her eyes and says, "It's not weird. If anything, you're trying to make it weird."

"Taking off my clothes isn't weird?"

"Helping you isn't weird," Aoko presses the words out from between her teeth, unbuttoning the other buttons, until the shirt is open and all she can see is a – surprisingly toned chest. She should have expected it really, it's Kaito, he steals gems and climbs buildings part time.

"You're staring," Kaito says.

She is. Aoko is completely and wholeheartedly staring, and part of her can't find it in her to be ashamed at that. Then, she catches Kaito's eye again – he's not even bothering to hide the amusement now.

"I am not staring," she huffs, haughty.

"Admiring?" Kaito says instead, a laugh rising in his throat. Aoko tugs off the sleeve of his bad arm, ignoring him. "Applauding?"

Aoko glares up at him. She says, "If you keep it up, I won't help you."

"Then I'll just be the weirdo walking around the museum without a shirt on?" Kaito offers a pout. "That'll blow our cover immediately. Only a criminal could be this defined."

Her expression goes bland as Aoko pushes a new shirt at Kaito. She says, "I see that prison didn't do much for that ego."

"Escaping it helped me build it into something even better."

"Shut up," Aoko says, and finishes helping him. Then, she pushes Kaito's jeans at him. He can do those, at least, by himself. Two hands aren't necessary.

She flushes when he wags his eyebrows at her then, turns away with the absolute conviction that she will never help him again. She grabs her clothes – a jumper and a pair of jeans - and begins undoing her own buttons.

She pauses in on the fourth button when she feels eyes watching her. She looks over her eyes and is greeted with Kaito. Somehow, he's already switched the trousers out for the new jeans. They hang folded on his good arm.

"A little bit of privacy, please?"

"We're in a bathroom Aoko, I think this is about as private at it gets." Kaito says. At her glower, he shrugs, "If I turn around, then I'll be facing the mirror, and I'll see everything anyway."

"Look at the door," Aoko says, "and nothing else. Don't be a pervert."

Kaito huffs, but still, she waits until he's turned, staring at the door to finish getting changed.

They last all of three hours of fake – well, it's real, in some context, isn't it? – before Saguru leans forward and catches Ran's attention. She looks up at him, pauses where she's still recounting words she needs to remember for the test she's made up, and lowers her pen.

"What?" Ran asks.

"We're waiting to see if the fake comes home," Saguru says. Something in his eye leaves Ran nervous – maybe it's because there's a mixture of desperation and cunning. A dangerous combination in those operating on a lack of sleep. "But they're not in."

"We just need to wait until they come back then." Ran says.

Saguru fixes her with a look. Stern, as if he's disappointed in her for not being able to see what he's thinking. He's quiet with his suggestion, "if there's no one inside, then surely we can look for evidence."

Ran's gaze flickers around the café. There's not a lot of patrons inside, it's particularly dead. No one other than the two staff members – the old lady, and the tattooed waitress.

"You're suggesting we break in to the fake's apartment?" Ran whispers. She receives a nod. "Are you completely crazy?"

"Listen," Saguru says. His voice is low, almost inaudible, "We're operating under the assumption that the fake is impersonating Oogami constantly, living his life. This might just be somewhere the fake comes and goes to. They won't necessarily show up."

Ran stares. She shakes her head, busying herself with the tea she's been sipping at. They'd gotten more, but this too, has gone cold. She drinks it anyway, nervousness forcing her to pause, find the right words.

"The risk if they do come back though–"

"We're so close to the person who framed Kudo-kun," Saguru says, and sure he has a point, but it doesn't make Ran any calmer. Any more certain. "There's so much information in there that we can interpret."

What Ran thinks, is that they should take a breather and come back tomorrow. When Saguru isn't sleep deprived, when he's thinking properly, as himself, the Saguru that Ran knows.

What happened to following the rules. This feels like too much, even for them. It's far too risky.

"Ran," Saguru says, staring her in the eye. "This could be our chance to prove Kudo-kun's innocence. If they ever catch him again, and we have this evidence, we can get a retrial."

He'd still go back to prison, simply for breaking out, but he wouldn't die.

"…I think this is a bad idea," Ran says, but she doesn't refuse. She follows him when he stands up, shoves her pen into her pocket, and puts her notebook back into her shoulder bag.

"Maybe it is," Saguru says, as the door chimes on their exit. "But we're so close. We'll loop around to the back - we can't stop now."

Ran presses her lips together. It's almost chilling how close they are to the end of this case, to the person who framed Shinichi.

But after that – after that, there are still going to be people in the police that they have to weed out. They're close to a checkpoint, but not the finale of their case. She wonders if this is what Shinichi felt before whenever he'd been out solving cases.

"Okay," Ran says. "Let's go."

The 'notable sponsors' list seems to take forever to load.

It's just not quick enough, and Kazuha bites her lip as they wait, watches as Heiji's leg jiggles, unable to stay still. They wait, and after a few seconds, Kazuha begins to worry that it won't load, that her internet is down, or the list is a fake, something to track whoever is looking into her.

Shinichi's paranoia seems to have spread. She almost wants to slam the laptop screen down.

"Heiji–"

"Give it time," Heiji says. His brow furrowed, he stares at the laptop. It's only when he repeats it again, under his breath, that Kazuha realises he's talking to himself. "It's a good idea, ya just need t' give it time."

Kazuha knows the words aren't for her, but she follows them anyway. They wait in a tense silence, watching the screen, hoping for some splash of colour to grace them with something that's gone purely white.

And then, it loads.

"Heiji–" Kazuha pauses, as names fill the page, glancing between alcohols and the sponsors for that brand. "Heiji, are you seeing what I am?"

"Yeah," Heiji says. "It's a list of names."

Kazuha leans forward, scrolls down the list and takes a moment to take in all the names. Then, because there's no way of knowing how long it will remain, she dives for Shinichi's phone, grabbing the camera function to capture the list.

"I dunno how much we can trust th' list," Heiji says, "but I think that th' person who killed those people, I think they wanted us to find it?"

Kazuha falls quiet. She doesn't know what that means – does that… why would the person framing Shinichi want him to find this clue? Did that mean Shinichi had someone… offering information on the inside?

"We need t' talk t' Shinichi about this," Kazuha says. "It was a message left for him, right? So, it's gotta be somethin' he'd understand."

They leave the wheelchair folded up in the corner of the bathroom and head in the direction of the restaurant. They move in such a way, that it's almost as if they'd never needed a wheelchair in the first place.

Which, Aoko supposes, is the point with disguises. Easily shed, capable of jumping from one to another. Even now, their new disguise is easy to remove. Makeup changing their skin tone, contour to make their cheekbones more prominent. No wig this time, but with brunettes so popular, simply changing their hairstyles helps a lot.

"Let's get going," Aoko says, eyes alert. Her gaze darts across the room, flittering between tourists, staff and security.

Kaito's hand settles between her shoulder blades, fingers soft against the small of her back. He says, "If you're so tense, watching everyone, it's just going to capture attention."

She knows that. But it's difficult to remain calm and steady when she's got not only her own freedom, but Kaito's on the line. Yesterday, breaking him out of prison had been easier, if only because there was no other choice.

But here… now, they could walk away and neither of them would be worse off.

"I'm trying," Aoko says, "but it's difficult. I'm not – I'm new to this."

"Let's talk about something else then," Kaito says, lowering his hand from her back. His fingers brush against hers, a silent question, but Aoko can't risk answering it right now. She sends him a look.

His fingers curl back into his palm. He doesn't seem bothered by it, but Aoko can't read him. Especially not with this face.

"Okay," Aoko says, "Something else. To focus on, to act natural…"

She can't think of a topic, but that's alright, Kaito's got it at hand for her. He looks at her, and says, "In there, when we were getting changed, it wouldn't have been perverted."

"Watching me getting changed is one of the forefronts of a pervert," Aoko responds, frowning.

"You watched me–"

"Different, I helped you." Aoko huffs. God, she'd forgotten how irritating Kaito is, hasn't spent any longer than a few hours with him at most since his imprisonment and now she's preparing on… forever. Maybe. "It's completely different."

"Couples watch each other, they're comfortable with that kind of thing."

Oh. Oh, Aoko sees.

He's gone for months, they kiss a few times and now he thinks he can forgo the entire… courting process. Well, wanted con-man or not, she's not letting him off that easily.

"We're not a couple," Aoko says. She watches his expression, smirks at the flash of indignance that settles there. As he opens his mouth to respond she turns, acts as if she's appreciating one of the fossils inside the glass casing.

"What do you mean we're not a couple?" Kaito asks, his voice low. They continue down through the exhibit, nearing the end, where a pair of oak, panelled doors have been held open, leading into the restaurant. "We– I– you–"

"Well," Aoko says, the tone slightly teasing, "For one, you never asked. Plus, I've never been taken on a date, so, at the moment we're not."

She can feel the rising heat in his glare, even as it settles out, realising she's only playing with him. He says, "I've brought you to a museum, doesn't that count?"

"No."

"See, now you're just being picky." Kaito says, laugh in his tone. Then, after a few seconds, "Do you really want me to ask?"

Aoko hadn't thought she did, but now it's here… she does. She knows it's stupid, knows that they've got more pressing things to worry about. There's the police, the people who tried to kill Kaito–

But even still, she wants it to be asked.

"When we're not in the middle of all of," – she waves her hands around, gestures at the museum – "this, then, it would be nice. I know it's stupid, but I still–"

Kaito falls quiet, glances around and says, "Okay."

Not sad, his sadness doesn't look anything like this. He's… thinking it over. She takes the initiative this time, brushing her hand against his. Kaito interlocks her fingers through his.

The conversation has distracted them, because almost immediately, they're inside the restaurant, glancing between the counter where snacks are left individually packaged, the tables with little numbers on for hot meals to be brought to customers.

Kaito takes a single look at the waiting staff, glances towards the doors that lead into the kitchen, and takes a moment to think. There's something about the way the light glints against his eyes, that makes Aoko realise he's scheming, working the situation through in his head.

Even if to everyone else they just seem like two normal teenagers.

It's interesting to watch, to watch Kaito go around things like this, knowing that the plan will be including her and not using her as some sort of diversion.

"This way," Kaito says, seconds later, arm around her waist, pulling her alongside him. "Shoulders back, confident, alright?"

His voice is smooth, almost like a spider's web woven into silk. Aoko nods, taking the words into consideration, loosening her stance and following after Kaito as if there's nothing wrong with walking through the doors into the kitchen.

She doesn't turn back, keeps her eyes rooted on Kaito, and almost too easily they're through the doors, heading into the kitchen. There's a chef talking to one of the waiters, and Kaito grabs her wrist, pulling her out of direct sight, making sure they head past the fryers instead.

"So, how about it then?"

Aoko glances at him, blinks. She says, "how about what?"

"The whole couple thing," Kaito says. They make their way towards out of the kitchen, past a staff room and towards a small metal elevator. There's a 'out-of-service' sign stuck up with tape.

"Kaito, now's really not the time–"

"Probably not," he agrees, as he points towards the staircase, "But seeing as how we're both fugitives, it's probably never going to be the right time?"

Aoko goes to sigh but smiles instead. She feels, almost, like punching him in the arm, but that doesn't seem right. Instead, she dips her head in a nod, and says, "This still doesn't count as a date though."

Kaito's grin widens. He says, "Of course, the date only begins when we're upstairs."

Oh, how lovely.

Shinichi doesn't have much of an understanding of Kyoto, knows that he doesn't even really know where he is, but that's what maps are for. He makes his way to the nearest shop, hopes no one will recognise him, and pays for the map without another word.

He grabs another phone too, the cheapest he can buy. Then, he ducks into the nearest alleyway, switches the numbers over and sits, trying to figure out where he is on the map.

A highlighter in his pocket helps him figure it out, and then, it's just a matter of memorising the route. He'll keep the burner phone until he reaches the Higashiyama district, and then, in the busy area he'll drop it into one of the bins.

All he has to do is find his way to the busy area, and pass through it to get back to Kyoto station without being seen.

Shinichi pulls at his sleeves, pulls down at his hat, and then strictly tells himself not to do anything more than that. If he keeps bringing attention to himself through defensive movements like that, he's only going to get himself seen.

The route is quiet for the first hour, and then, as he gets nearer and nearer to Higashiyama, the streets narrowing as the buildings become more traditional, wooden stores selling pottery and crafts and so many other things that appeal to both tourists and natives alike, everything becomes busier.

Perhaps the only calming thing here, is that in the places where tourists are rampant, he's just another face to many of these people. He doubts he's known by those from other countries.

Still, the district makes him feel uneasy, almost as if eyes are watching him. And maybe they are. Maybe people are drawn to the man walking quickly without any glances at the spots, as if there's nothing that can hold his interest.

Working against the paranoia, Shinichi forces himself to slow down. He makes a habit of wandering into random shops, every time he feels like the eyes are watching him too closely.

He drops the phone into one of the bins – all numbers deleted from it, just in case anyone comes after it. He'll only send one message from the phone, and it goes straight to Akai – Will be in contact soon.

Even with the phone gone, he still feels nervous. Jittery energy leaves him leaning back up, ready to scratch into his skin, his neck, to feel some sort of relief to this noose that's getting tighter and tighter.

His fingernails are about to dig when hands close around his wrist, holding him firm.

"That's not a good idea," says a voice. It sends a shiver through him, as he turns to look up. He can almost hear the way his heart rate picks up, louder, even higher than he'd wanted it to get–

"You just never act according to the plans that I put into place, do you, my silver bullet?"

Vermouth.

The inside of the apartment is cold, almost as if the thermostat has been turned to the lowest setting. As they step through the back door, Saguru bringing out a small torch to light the room, Ran rubs her arms, trying to warm herself up.

"You'd think it'd be warmer," Saguru says, "since we're heading towards summer, but this is ridiculous."

Ran nods her head. The building structure seems as if it's been built from ice rather than bricks. She doesn't doubt the fact that the pipes probably have cracks from being so cold – if this is how the apartment usually is.

"Yeah," Ran mutters. She'd been reeling from breaking and entering, but the cold is helping to ground her. "How cold is it, do you think?"

They move past the kitchen, towards a small walkway into the rest of the apartment.

"Thermostat says ten degrees," Hakuba says, "it's on the lowest setting."

Some part of Ran wonders why they'd risk lowering the temperature so much, thinks about how Shinichi would say it's suspicious. Why so cold, no one could live like this.

"It doesn't matter," Ran says, "lets just find some evidence and leave."

She doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. There's a bad vibe about this place, something leaving her feeling awkward, not quite… settled in the way she wants to be.

And yes, she knows there's no way to truly be settled when breaking into someone else's home, but there's something about this place that is simply eerie.

"Over here," Saguru says, moving past the thermostat to a small cabinet. It's in the corner, the shape of a triangle, fitting in a way that doesn't seem like it's jutting out. Ran follows, just as he opens it up.

"What is it?" She asks, as he shines his light down, brightening up the cabinet. She watches as Saguru leans into the cabinet, pulling out three letters. Not bills, from the looks of them, but something more personal. "What are they?"

Saguru glances at her, shrugs. He says, "I'm not sure, but I think they're important. Let's take a look?"

He brings his torch up, keeps it between his teeth, and holds it in the direction of the letters. Then, he pries his fingernails beneath the flap to the first envelope, pulling out the letter.

Unfolding it, Saguru goes quiet for a moment, reading over the letter. Ran moves forward, skimming over it at the same time. A letter thanking someone for their sponsorship?

"What does an alcohol label have to do with this?" Ran asks.

"I'm not sure," Saguru says, "but I think the other letters should have more information. We need to find a surface, take a picture of these letters."

Ran agrees. Slowly, they make their way into a small living room. The streetlight from the street outside offers light, and so Saguru pockets the torch, not wanting random rays of light to give them away.

Inside, there's a small coffee table, and Saguru leans down, looking at the letter, smoothing out the creases as he attempts to gather enough light to take a photo. From the way he heaves a sigh, Ran reckons they're not going to get the photo taken without some sort of light.

"Just use your flash," Ran says, and since Saguru is busy enough, turns to look around the room. Maybe there's something else they can pick up, something worth looking into.

"I–" Saguru pauses, heaves out another sigh. "Fine. Since there's not really another option."

The flash is one very quick burst of white. It lasts no longer than a second, and then, Saguru is putting the letter back into the envelope, reaching for the second.

Ran glances around the living room. There's a fish tank, although the filter looks broken and the water is a dark green. When the room lights up with a second flash, she sees that all of the fish are at the top of the tank, floating, all of them dead.

She squints. These fish are tropical fish but, they've been put in a tank that's designed for cold water fish? That makes no sense – surely there's something inside meant to cool the water up and it's malfunctioned, somehow?

Leaning forward, Ran places a hand on the glass, leaning forward. There's something inside, but it's certainly not a heater. A fake rock catches her attention, plastic, which isn't exactly shocking, seeing as people place all sorts into tanks to make them their own habitats.

No, what's strange, is the fact that the rock has a rubber band around it. Green, it doesn't stand out too much against the fake plants inside, but still… suspicious.

"Hey, take a look at this," Ran says, turning. "The fish tank is–"

She spots red. A small ball of it, coming through the window, directed straight at her. Ran is pretty sure she spots it, just at the same time Saguru does.

There's no time for either of them to tell the other to get down, no time for anyone to warn the other.

Ran drops to the floor just in time to hear the window shatter, glass spraying everywhere.

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