Sometimes Shinichi sat down in front of the door. Whenever his father arrived home late from a consultation with his editors, he always rushed to greet him cheerfully, even if the exhausted man just locked himself up in the study without a word for the rest of the night. Whenever his mother spent long hours on the phone dealing with their pesky admirers, declining appointments or otherwise chatting with her seemingly endless amount of friends whilst walking up and down in the corridor, he always watched as her nonchalant figure passed by him so many times yet still failed to notice her young son carving for attention.
His posture was getting more slumber with every day, his deep blue eyes tired of examining the ornaments of the bulky wooden door that obscured his vision. The child shows in the television were even more boring than the door. The shoes in the cupboard were excessively large to fit his small feet. The books he occasionally sneaked out of the study were full of complex characters he was unable to read at first. After figuring those out, though, the stories were proven very interesting. Soon enough, he found himself lying on the floor amidst a dozen mysteries on the pages of those old books. The flow of his imaginary adventures could be easily read from his expression. He always smirked when he figured out the culprit from the clues hinted along the lines, got hyped when the detectives started their deductions, pouted when they explained the flimsy motives, and in the end, he found eagerness to share the mystery with her.
Before he could notice, he was not sitting in front of the door in wait for his parents, but rather a fuscous-haired girl.
Mouri Ran.
She was extremely hard to impress. No amount of knowledge was enough to make her genuinely surprised while even a tiny bit of his intellect floored the most of adults. All of his efforts to earn her ire failed after another, but that meant no burden for him. She was his source of motivation after all. Only if he tried everything in his power to show his best side to her would he earn the privilege to play with her. Henceforth, he was required to work hard so one day he could truly impress her. On that day, that special, sweet girl, the only person who listened to him without thinking of him as a freak would acknowledge his true self.
Until that day, he would stick with her, not letting her go no matter the circumstances.
Sometimes Shinichi sat down in front of the door. That habit of his remained even after his parents moved out. He had gotten a few years on himself and his mind was running on real life cases instead of fictional ones. Two years into high school he was already a renewed detective, doing full-fledged police work. His intelligence was first and unmatched in Japan if not in the world. Still, he sat down in front of the door time to time in hope of seeing her. He wished nothing more than catch a glimpse of her long fuscous bangs dancing behind her gorgeous figure and the ever-present sweet and heart-warming smile on her face.
It was no longer about impressing but acceptance instead.
She represented everything the rotten world had right within itself. Her inexhaustible kindness and empathy, pure emotions and unfailing sense of justice portrayed her as an angel compared to the detective balancing on the borderline of the light and darkness of human nature. Whenever he felt himself slipping or sensed his own emotions dull at the gore of reality, she always brought the brightness back into his dimmed inner world. She accepted him as who he was without any high expectations he was used to, thinking of him as someone with emotions which she should protect. Truthfully, he would unable to feel anything without her. She was literally his heart. Someone like her was too good for the cruel world and he was constantly afraid that being close to the fire, to him, would burn her eventually. His hard work of getting as many criminals as possible off the streets was for protecting her from anything that might corrupt her. She was his reason.
She was his life, and he would be damned if he let her get wrapped up in anything dangerous because of him.
Sometimes Conan sat down in front of the door. The place itself turned into a ghost house after he was accepted into the Mouri household. Still, the child-turned teenager had to return occasionally into his old residence so he could clear his troubled thoughts. There was nothing in the house anymore. His childhood clothes were all moved to the detective agency alongside with everything else he needed for survival. Otherwise, all the signs that might give the impression that he was still alive were eradicated. Solely his presence in his usual place was an unimaginable risk. Every minute he spent talking with others, every minute he spent in public, every chance of meeting with someone who might recognise him under the glasses, essentially every breath he took posed grave danger to him, but more importantly, to her.
Living together with her had been a topic of his dreams for a while. However, in those scenarios, he was building a relationship with her through truthful words of affection instead of fooling her head with lies and empty promises. He was staying with her day and night instead of listening her heart-breaking sobs via the phone and attempting to comfort her from behind the guise of another person. His mind was a mess of sorrow and anger. When she broke, his heart crumbled into pieces. His clenched tiny fists and icy glare were the signs of his dangerous determination against the responsible party.
He would crush them. Chase them to the edge of earth until every single one of them was behind bars for a lifetime.
Sometimes Conan sat down in front of the door. Alone with his old friends called loneliness and despair. Watching the door was the only habit that preserved his old self. His old house was the only place where he could toss aside the hated spectacles. Slumping by the wall was the only way to get rid of the lively childish façade that had grown onto him like a second personality, and have the broken man on the inside reveal on the surface. His situation seemed hopeless and his case impossible to solve. She was in shambles. He sometimes wished her to find someone else, someone who would take good care of her rather than exposing her to such extend of suffering. He was not worthy of her dedication. He was not worthy of her worry. He was not worthy of her love.
His actions were slowly becoming fuelled by hatred. He desired to take revenge on them for destroying both of their lives permanently.
Using his cold determination to forget about who chased them that night.
Entrapped in the inescapable circle of hatred and guilt, he gradually became jaded to his own darkness. Her light was no longer strong enough to shine through the layers of lies he had built upon himself. Stripped from his genuine reason, he ventured deeper and deeper into the alley of shadows from where he knew there was no return. He was no longer someone who could stand by her side. She could no longer understand him the same way she did in the old times. He was on the brick of losing everything.
Then a fallen crow took his extended hand.
Sometimes Conan sat in front of the door. He had forgotten long ago why it felt so nostalgic. The only reason he kept the habit was that no other place could give him the freedom to think about her. She slowly but surely started to move on, proving him right who knew deep back in his mind that she had always been stronger than him. Her tears started to dry up, her voice became different at those rare occasions he called her. Even though her sensible decision shattered him, he was still happy for her. However, lately another name started to frequent his call history aside from hers.
Haibara Ai.
His real enemy put into the same shoes as him ended up as his first close friend ever since he tangled up with them. Even her prickly tone and dismissive attitude could serve as a form of comfort as she was one of the few individuals who really understood the severity of his situation. There were no taboos or secrets between them. He could finally speak up for the first time in agonizing months, share his tragic story with someone and lift the cursed obligation of keeping silent for the sake of others, even if that person was just a former crow with bloodstained hands. Those hands, piece by piece, patched him together into another person.
Sometimes he wondered whether it would be better for everyone if he loved her instead.
However, he eventually had to realise that no patchwork could fill the hole in him bearing the shape and size of a certain fuscous-haired girl.
His life was in tatters, but he knew she was still capable of living a normal life. She could be happy, even after everything that happened. He was sure she would find the strength in herself to let his memory go. She would find a profession and have a nice, blissful life with someone worthy to be her partner. Then she would tell stories about a jerk of a friend who had her wait for years before finally dumping her. His soul cried at his own prediction, but that was for the best. He only had to make sure that those shadows aiming for his life would never reach her. He would protect her regardless what she thought about him.
As always, her safety worthed more than his life.
When Haibara opened the door with a stoic expression on her face but eyes holding a stern gaze, he knew the time had come. After months of information gathering and careful planning, the strategy for the final battle was ready to put into action. He had unimaginable allies by his side and a trustful assistant in front of him. He personally made sure that his group would win under all circumstances. It was a dream come true. They were going down no matter whether he lived or died. If he returned alive, he would tell the truth and beg for her forgiveness until his voice becomes raspy. If he died, he would die for her. He was eerily content with both possibilities.
Either way, she would be happy.
When Ran rushed through the abandoned door and saw the blood-tinted, cracked spectacles, she broke down in tears. "...you idiot ... you idiot mystery freak."
Published: 01/04/2021
Because someone thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the 1000th episode anniversary with a character death fic.