Disclaimer: "Detective Conan" belongs to Gosho Aoyama, and "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" belongs to Naoko Takeuchi.
This is an alternative story to my other fanfic "Encounter in Venice" and one of the possibilities of what could have happened if Ai had taken the antidote before Shinichi brought down the Organization.
Thanks a lot to my friends and betas Rae (Astarael00) and SN1987a and the Aicoholics on LiveJournal, without whom I would never have started this fic.
FS
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Ghost at Twilight
(edited version)
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Overwhelmed by the…
Overwhelmed by the heady melange of different scents and sounds in the giant perfume and cosmetics store, your nose failed to detect Tenoh Haruka when she sneaked up behind you, and you only started (and then stared!) when she cleared her throat and chuckled. To say the ex-racer had successfully surprised you with her present outfit would be an understatement. Accustomed to her crossdressing habits, you wouldn't have recognized Tenoh-san in her present attire at all if she had tried to disguise herself and dyed her conspicuous platinum blonde hair.
For an endless minute, you only studied the tall, slim woman in silence, letting your gaze trail from her glossy rosé lips to her lavender silk scarf to the soft curves of her unbound chest to her narrow waist, which was accentuated by her close-fitting black-and-white biker's suit with red highlights. Despite her sheer endless legs, androgynous features, and deep husky voice, it was impossible to mistake her for a man now.
Giving your hair a few affectionate strokes with a black-gloved hand and taking your arm to usher you out into the ever-busy Avenue des Champs Élysées, Tenoh-san laughed out loud about your reaction.
"For your information: I'm a real woman! Today I don't mind dressing like one." She cheerfully swung the red helmet in her hand back and fourth. "Well, how do Kudo and you like the city of love? It's not Tokyo or Venice, but it's one of the cities which starts to enthrall you on the second or third day."
Even though she had cut ties to les agents motards when she stopped calling Jean her father, she still visited Paris regularly, she told you on the way to the parking space where she had left her motorcycle. Spoiled as she was, Tenoh-san had even brought her favourite red Suzuki Hayabusa to Paris—and you idly wondered what she would do to the poor fool who dared to steal it.
"Do you have a second helmet for me?" You frowned at the gleaming red-silver motorbike, on which you could see no helmet at all. "I'm not going to drive with you without a helmet!"
"Here!" She tossed you the helmet in her hand, which smelled distinctly of a warm, spicy male rose fragrance.
"But you aren't wearing one!" You pointed out the obvious while clambering onto the passenger seat of her bike and gasped in horror when she instantly raced off at phenomenal speed while all the cars in the vicinity were honking at her.
"Didn't you know that I'm invincible, koneko-chan?" She beamed at you through the rear-view mirror. "Although I do hope that none of the agents motards will follow us to fine me. The French have great motorcycle officers! We could have a fun race if you were Michiru."
"You're insane!" You tightened your grab on her leather jacket and made an inhuman effort to ignore the blur of cars and houses that flew past you at a speed which made it impossible for you to discern them.
"It's taken you long to find out!"
No one but Kaioh Michiru could put so much trust in the skills of the driver that she didn't break out in a cold sweat on Tenoh Haruka's passenger seat, and you should have foreseen that Tenoh-san would be unable to stick to a speed limit since racing was her life and arrogance her besetting sin. Keeping your hands firmly on her waist and fervently hoping that she wasn't so ticklish that she would let you distract her from driving, you decided to enjoy the drive with Tenoh-san as an experience you were unlikely to repeat after leaving Paris. It was also the very first time that you had got the chance to witness how the famous racer handled a motorbike. On photos, you had seen Tenoh-san on her bikes more than once: blue-silver bikes, red-silver bikes, yellow-gold bikes—she had an impressive collection. But you were sure you had never seen her wearing a helmet. Since you weren't a fan of hers, you never attended her races.
"Where are we driving?"
"It's a surprise, love. You're too beautiful and good for the mundane shopping districts in Paris. I'm going to show you something more romantic."
To your surprise, it didn't take you long to grow accustomed to Tenoh-san's driving style, and you were soon lulled into a false sense of security by the constant hum of the tyres and the fragrant helmet on your head. You would smell of Tenoh-san's shampoo by the time you returned to M Jean Black's house, you predicted, making a mental note to douse yourself in rose perfume at the perfume store to justify the scent. Since you were paranoid about Kudo's deduction skills, you were also going to wash your hair, which would have been flattened by the helmet by then, before dinner.
"First, we need to establish some ground rules," said Tenoh-san in a more serious tone, skipping the question whether you had brought her the pills since they were the condition for your meeting in the first place. "No word to Kudo! If I ever learn that he or any of his nosy friends and relatives are investigating me, my family, or anyone else in my group because you've given him a hint, he is as good as dead. And I'm going to spare your life so that you can mourn him and enjoy your guilt forever."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Not at all. I'm just stating the brute facts so that there won't be any misunderstandings between us. If I fail—which I hope not—I won't drag Michiru or you down with me, and I do hope that you'll be smart enough not to play the heroine and stay out of whatever happens afterwards. In return, you keep your cute kissable mouth shut so that your detective won't ever cause us trouble."
"Fair enough. Any other rules?"
"Just one. We can't plan everything, so improvisation is crucial to our success. If anything goes wrong, I won't break down and weep in the hope that my late mother will send me my fairy godmother! I'll improvise and do whatever it takes to get out alive—and I trust you to do the same."
"Why are you boring me with banalities all of a sudden?" you snapped, irritated by her derogatory manner, under whose cover you could sense her hidden anxiety. "What are you getting at?"
She sighed and sped up even more, taking a curve at lightning speed. "Since our imbecile of a scapegoat will be weakened by a few injuries—burns, for instance—I'll bet on you in any case. But if you can't take him out for whatever reason, you have to inform me and finish it as soon as possible."
"Shooting Vodka will be a piece of cake! He is as slow as your great-grandmother if she were still alive. Apart from that, he can't even aim."
"My great-grandmother, my dear kitten, was fast." Although you couldn't see Tenoh-san's face at the moment, you could hear the smirk in her voice. "My mother said I got my speed from her. So don't ever dare to insult her again!"
Now that you had dispelled her worries, the drive became rather pleasant. The warm light of the early winter afternoon was pouring down on the lamp-lit world while the snow was steadily falling. Strings of lights and Christmas wreaths and garlands, which all blurred into a magical concoction of colours when you raced past them, adorned the naked broadleaved trees and the conifers along the road. From time to time, you would close your eyes and let yourself drift into a reverie, contemplating your future after the downfall of the Organization.
Your plan for Pandora's Box was deceptively simple. If you didn't have to enter the cabin first because your scapegoat dutifully, obligingly, walked into your trap, you could stay in this adult's body for good. Perhaps Kudo and Ran would even split up after a few months or years of cohabitation or marriage. And being the supportive friend who always listened to his relationship-related rants with half-hearted complaints, you would graciously help your detective get over his first love in no time...
Sadly, all the versions you've conjured up for the post-Pandora's-Box relationship between Kudo and you sounded unsatisfactory, even pitiful, a meagre diet of "friendship turned love out of convenience" or "unlikely attraction caused by circumstances" when what you really wanted was a whirlwind romance or an epic, fateful love affair. In the last few days, Kudo had become smitten with Miyano Shiho because they were strangers in a foreign city, who were collaborating to save thousands of wrongly convicted prisoners and uncover the truth about what he believed to be an evil syndicate. You knew very well that he was less in love with you as a person but more in love with the romantic setting and the idea of the woman you could become. After returning to Beika, he would see his girlfriend again and Paris would either be forgotten or remain a fond memory he secretly indulged in during cold winter nights. If you're lucky, you would be busy fighting off reporters and answering questions in court—so completely preoccupied with the problems of how to lie about your role in the Organization and fight for a lenient sentence that you wouldn't even spare a thought of him.
In spite of (or due to?) her incredible speed, Tenoh-san gave you the euphoric illusion of sailing across the sky, and it wasn't until you realized that she had been driving in the direction of Bonnières and had already passed Vernon that you guessed where you two were heading.
"Are we going to Giverny?" you asked, wondering what she wanted to do in Giverny out of all places.
"Smart kitten! We're going to Monet's House. It's usually not open to the public in December, but I have an old acquaintance in the Claude Monet Foundation who owes me a small favour for saving her dog from a gang of wannabe bikers." Her voice turned unmistakably seductive. "We might as well make this a date since there is a remote possibility that we two won't ever get a chance to go out with each other anymore."
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After passing Claude Monet's reading room (which was also called "the little blue sitting room") and the pantry where spices, olive oil, eggs, and tea were stored in wall cabinets, you had the chance to admire the artist's first studio-turned-sitting-room, whose walls were lined with photographs, prints, and the Master's paintings. Climbing the staircase to the private rooms, where objects from Monet's days were displayed, you marvelled at the great trust other people put in Tenoh-san while she seldom if ever trusted anyone.
Upstairs, you beheld the dressing rooms, bedrooms, and sewing room of the long deceased with mixed feelings and were relieved when Tenoh-san and you returned to the ground floor, where the yellow walls and red-white checkered tiles of the restored dining room and the blue Rouen tiles of the quaint kitchen breathed life into the monochromatic winter world. Outside, the "Jardin d'eau"—Monet's water garden, in real life a true work of art just like the painting—was already covered by a thin layer of ice and snow.
On the famous green Japanese bridge, Tenoh-san and you proceeded to discuss the last details of your scheme.
"Listen, unexpected things can happen," she began. "If the drinks get mixed up or Gin survives because he notices that something is fishy—"
"—I'll shoot Gin as well."
"That's the right attitude!" She looked extremely relieved. "Although I hope it won't happen."
"No, it's actually a good idea. Idiots like Vodka can be dangerous in their unpredictability. Gin, on the other hand, is extremely punctual and precise. It will be easier for me if we choose Gin as the scapegoat since he will fail to surprise me when it comes to timing."
She shot you a half-quizzical, half-amused look mingled with genuine surprise, and it finally dawned on you that she had been so tense because she was afraid that you might be hampered by moral sentiments or sentimentality.
"All right, I'm going to let Gin escape, then, after weakening him a bit. Too bad Vodka will be the one with the damaged lungs… It's a tiny blemish on our otherwise flawless plan."
Since you had anticipated her approval of your idea, you had already adapted to the change and created a lethal poison for Vodka, which was going to destroy his liver, you smirked, handing her the red jewellery box with the twenty-five pills. You had numbered them according to her list of soon-to-be corpses, which only consisted of Arabic numerals for lack of names and curt descriptions of the habits of Anokata, their family, their crows, and the crows' secretaries and sniper spouses. Now it was Tenoh-san's task to feed the pills to the respective people without mixing them up. You wished her and the seventh crow luck.
She took the box from you with a feverish gleam in her green-speckled blue eyes, beamed after checking its contents, and slipped it into a deep pocket of her leather jacket.
"You resent Gin even more than I thought…" she mused, letting her gaze follow the Cupid you just dropped into the water. "What was that?"
"If anything happens, I'm going to take the full blame," you said, evading her question.
"No one can jail us for an undetectable drug." She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You shouldn't worry about the aftermath but focus on your tasks."
"You don't have much trust in my shooting skills," you remarked.
"It's not your shooting skills I have to worry about! It's your mental ability I can't rely on." She compassionately patted your back. "You're nicer than you think, koneko-chan—and being nice hasn't ever done you any good whenever Gin was involved."
Since you couldn't come up with anything to reply, as you were still contemplating how funny her choice of adjective sounded considering what you were going to do to Anokata and the crows, she pulled a blue USB stick out of her pocket, placed it into your palm, and closed your fist around it. "All the particulars of the people who enter the log cabin will be sent to the cloud, which is still protected by the Night Baron. Just insert this into Pandora's Box and only the mail with the name of the first person who opened the door will be sent to the blackmailed big names while the others will immediately be deleted from the disk. It's not as good as the Night Baron, but it's the best we have at the moment. And now do tell me what you just dropped into the pond so that I won't have to feel guilty when all the water plants die next summer."
"Do you know these coins people toss into fountains and wells as a payment for the answer to a prayer?" You beheld the liquid mirror, which had swallowed the sacrifice for Kudo's safety, with a vague sense of foreboding. "It's something similar to that: a payment for our success—the price for lasting peace and freedom."
"It was a bit more than a coin, wasn't it?" She gave you a grave, knowing look. "What was it made of? Silver?"
"White gold. It's not like I have anywhere to put it, so I might as well sacrifice it to some war deity, Mars or Andarta or Hachiman, depending on whom you believe in.
"I only believe in myself," she sneered. "But if I had to choose a deity, I'd choose a Greek god since I've always liked the gods of Greco-Roman mythology. They were a fun motley bunch that embraced life and seemed fairly tolerant despite all their quirks. Mars is too male, too dumb, and too bloodthirsty for my taste, though. The payment shall go to Athena then, the goddess of strategy and wisdom."
Leaving the Japanese bridge to return to the bike, you cast a last glance at the marvelous composition of snow-covered maples and weeping willows framing the pond—a paradise lost—and slipped the USB stick with Meioh-san's Night Baron copy Tenoh-san just handed you into the same pocket where the Cupid had been. The sun was setting, tinting the snow gold and pink. Just below Tenoh-san's collarbone, a simple gold cross gleamed golden-orange in the sun before she turned away from the light and the reddish tint was gone.
"Why are you carrying it if you aren't even a Christian?"
"It belonged to my great-grandmother, who gave it to my grandmother, who passed it on to my mother, who left it to me… When Hotaru-chan is old enough to stand on her own feet, I'm going to give it to her."
She paused to show you a little package under the seat, which contained a knitted purple pullover with a large black heart and the red number ten on it—a small souvenir she found in a boutique before she met up with you. Watching her fold away the birthday present with parental tenderness and pride, you recalled with a pang of conscience that Tenoh-san once reluctantly revealed to you that a few crows had children, too…
Twenty-five pills? Ignoring the seventh crow, who is on our side, and Vodka, the one scapegoat I'll have to shoot, we're dealing with the Boss, five crows plus their personal secretaries and their sniper spouses, and Gin. That makes one plus fifteen plus one people: seventeen. Who are the remaining eight? Although maths had never been your favourite subject, you could do whole number addition and subtraction well enough.
The Boss has a secretary and a spouse, who has a secretary as well, which makes it twenty people. The remaining five are Anokata's most loyal bodyguard and four children I'll have to take out lest they take revenge on us.
Appalled, you had carefully put down your exquisite blue and violet Murano water glass before you shook your head.
I'm not going to murder children, under no circumstances!
I'm not talking about little kids, koneko-chan! I'm talking about young adults like Kudo, who are extremely talented, perfectly trained, incredibly loyal, good at teamwork, and very smart—the best fighters and shooters I've ever seen. Even your shooting skills can't be compared to theirs. If you agree to do this, you'll have to do it right: It's either them or us—you have to think of Kudo's life!
Staring into the crackling fire, which was dying in the hearth, she looked almost tragic as she sipped her red wine and smiled. You shouldn't forget that I was a child as well—and only seven when my mother died! We really can't afford to spare their children's lives…
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You two raced back to Paris through the ending sunset, which painted the snow purple and the trees along the road black. Obsession was a curious thing, you reflected. When you were alone, you could easily succumb to it and even embrace it as a part of your destiny. Yet once you had seen yourself mirrored in someone else whose obsession was even more dangerous than yours, you suddenly shrank away from your own actions as if the extreme gravity of the situation only dawned on you when you could observe it from a certain distance. Tenoh-san radiated a warm rosy glow of pure happiness while you were shivering in your thick winter coat. All warmth had left you after you stepped out of Monet's Garden.
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