Summary: In which Kaito and Aoko head to Osaka, and the police investigation shifts in Tokyo.

Notes: Why yes, I do understand that I need a better update schedule. I will try harder! My health did falter a lot for a few months, but I am doing much better now, so I'm ready to try and write more frequently! Thanks for the follows/favourites/comments that you all leave. They make me infinitely happy! x

Jii buys them the tickets.

He leaves the paper in the backroom, waiting for them to grab when they get back to the Blue Parrot. Aoko wants to thank him, to grab the old man, pulling him into a hug, but doing so would be suspicious, especially while there are patrons attending the bar, grabbing his attention.

They go through the back entrance anyway, so it's impossible to say thanks. Not yet. And part of Aoko feels guilty for that, but the other half of her understands that it's necessary to remain quiet.

Patrons are witnesses and Aoko doesn't need any more witnesses. Not when they need to remain anonymous.

They grab the tickets, and Kaito looks Aoko up and down, claiming they'll need better disguises, things that will last long enough even if people start testing them.

"Your hair," Kaito says, and he takes a moment to pause, "how do you think about colouring it? Semi-permanently, but it's still your decision."

It's not the biggest change that Aoko's been asked to make in the last twenty-four hours, he doesn't understand why he's giving her such a look about the decision. Even if she changes the colour, it'll change back eventually.

It's not a big enough change though.

"I don't mind," Aoko says, "make it darker."

Kaito nods. Aoko's hair has always been a light brown and changing it to black will change her look slightly, making her less noticeable, even if she were to lose a disguise.

What else can she do…

"How good are you at styling things?" Aoko asks, and she leans forward, looking into the small tool box that Kaito has for creating his disguises.

Kaito, frankly, looks insulted that she needs to ask. But then, he says, "I'm an expert at disguises, idiot, of course I'd be good at styling."

"Good," Aoko says, "because you're going to have to make this work."

Then, she scoops her hands around a lock of her hair, grabs a pair of scissors and begins to cut.

"We need to find Kudo-kun," Saguru states, and he shifts on the sofa, leaning forwards as he tries to consider everything that they'll need to know. Ran watches him, tries to figure out what he's going to suggest, and comes up blank.

If she could find him easily, then Ran would be by his side right now, ensuring he isn't alone. But she isn't, and Shinichi is good at disappearing. Too good, she thinks.

"Yeah," Ran sighs, because they need to find him, but there's no thought in her head that offers a way as to how. "But it's not as easy as that."

"Rightly so," Saguru says, and there's something in his voice that makes her shiver. "If he were easy to find, then he'd be dead."

Ah, not something Ran likes to spend her time thinking about. She's thought about it in the past, when Shinichi had first been given the death penalty, when the time until the ruling could be passed had grown nearer and nearer.

"So how do we find Shinichi-kun then?" Sonoko asks. She crosses her arms, stares across at Saguru without so much as flinching. She's the calm presence that Ran realises she's been needing.

"We don't find him," Saguru says. Like it's obvious, like he's disappointed in them for not having come to the same conclusion. Ran opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off before she can say anything. "We find his accomplice."

For a moment, Ran frowns.

She says, "The police arrested KID, he's been in custody for three days now, I doubt he'll know where Shinichi is."

Saguru shakes his head. "I don't mean Kuroba. I mean the person who helped them escape the prison."

For a moment, Ran's mind goes blank. KID and Shinichi had worked together to escape, obviously, and KID always managed his own escapes. Two people would have made it easier.

And then she recalls the fact that there had to be a third person. Someone on the outside who helped set the escape up.

"They'll be impossible to find," Ran mutters. She says, "We don't know anything about them. The escape didn't go perfectly, but it went well enough that there wasn't any evidence left behind."

"The absence of evidence," Saguru says, his voice a deadly calm, "is evidence in itself."

Ran pauses.

She remembers Shinichi having said something like that in the past. She's not sure whether it's inspiring or haunting. Ran takes a deep breath, bites into her lip and nods her head.

"Plus," Saguru continues, "to coordinate such an escape, there must have been frequent contact. Maybe prison staff, or an ex-inmate. You can't pull stuff off like that without planning."

For their sake, Ran hopes it's easy. But at the same time, she hopes that it's challenging, impossible to find the name. After all. she's pretty certain that they're not the only ones looking.

"We need to head to the police station," Saguru continues, and he pushes himself up now, face paling as he stands. He lets out a small hiss, and despite knowing it'll only bruise his pride, Ran goes to him, concerned.

He waves her off.

"We don't currently trust the police," Ran reminds him, because they don't. Not with what they know about the recent murders, about the lists. Whoever framed Shinichi has links with the police.

"We don't?" Sonoko asks.

Ran spares her best friend a glance, shakes her head 'no.' She hopes the look in her gaze promises an explanation, later, when they have time, but she can't be sure.

"Of course not," Sonoko continues, and she throws her hands up, her tone sardonic. She says, "Wouldn't have come to me about being shot if you could go straight to the police."

Saguru gives a short nod. He says, "Exactly. Sorry to get you involved, Suzuki-san."

"I've seen you topless, I think it's alright to forgo formalities Hakuba-kun. It's Sonoko."

He gives her a dry look, one that explains that she's only seen him in a state of undress because of the gunshot wound, and that they are not, in any way, able to forgo formalities. However, then he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Fine. Sonoko-san."

Sometimes, Ran finds it strange how he's so swift in changing between address. Then she remembers that he grew up in England, that they call each other by forenames, and so the change isn't as big to him, even with his Japanese culture.

"So, you're going to the police station," Sonoko continues, "if we can't trust them, is that a good idea?"

"It's the only place we can get information, really." Saguru says. He turns to look at Ran. "It's up to you whether you want to come with me. I know it's dangerous, you can stay here, and I'll come back–"

There is no chance in hell that Ran's going to let him go anywhere on his own. He's already gotten himself shot, she's not going to let him go through anything else.

"It's okay." Ran says, "I'm coming to."

"They shot at you guys though," Sonoko says. "What's to say they won't do it again?"

For a moment, they're all suspended into silence. Then, Saguru leans back, breathes out a small sigh. Ran, however, is the one to answer.

"The apartment was dark." She says. "I doubt the person who shot us made out our profile."

Saguru clears his throat, nods. He says, "I reckon at the moment, those people are searching for us at hospitals or the likes. As long as we don't let anyone see that we're injured, then we'll be fine."

Which would be easy, but well, injuries aren't easy to walk off. She doubts Saguru will stay on his feet the entire time without wavering, doubts that he's a good enough actor to lie and pretend he's fine but what does she know? Maybe she should just trust him and focus on staying well herself.

Ran doesn't know. She reckons they'll both figure it out.

"That doesn't sound very safe," Sonoko mutters, and Ran agrees. "What if they had cameras, something that saw your faces."

"Then we need act quickly," Saguru says. "Take the information before they think to come after us or hide it any further."

Ran isn't sure about whether she agrees completely, but he does have a point. She bites into her lip, nods her head.

"I'll leave it to you two," Sonoko says. Then, after a short pause, she glances between them both, her gaze settling on Ran's form. "Bring him back. My family owns a villa just outside of Tokyo – it's seldom used. Shinichi-kun can hide out there as long as he pleases once you find him."

A pause.

"He'll be safer there." Sonoko says and Ran takes a moment to draw her friend back into her, squeezing her into a tight hug. Sonoko squeezes back, and the movement stings slightly, but she still curls into it. "Don't go getting injured any further, okay?"

"We'll try our best."

On the train, Aoko counts seconds under her breath.

She's not sure what she's counting to – maybe it's the time until the train docks into the next station, maybe it's how long they've managed to go unseen – but she is. The number is high, but Aoko counts by tens, marking how many times she's reached one hundred in a tally on her arm.

It passes the time.

Kaito watches her as she does this, raises his eyebrow when she meets his gaze, but doesn't say anything. Maybe because he doesn't want to interrupt whatever counting she's doing.

Aoko sighs. She's got a window seat, and while watching the scenery would be nice any other time, it leaves her anxious, because Kaito – beside her, in the aisle seat – is trapping her.

She feels oddly… vulnerable.

Not because of Kaito, not because she feels trapped by him, but rather, because leaving Tokyo is the riskiest part of their plan. If they're caught here, then there's no getting away. It'd be impossible to escape a moving vehicle – not until they reach the next stop.

Maybe KID had managed it in the past, but he'd been uninjured then. And it had been a calculated jump, something he'd no doubt spent ages planning through. Now, trying to do such a thing would only lead to disaster.

And that leaves anxiety rising up Aoko's chest. Even her own nervousness squirms.

Perhaps Kaito notices, because he leans forward, rests a hand on her arm and finally breaks the cycle of her counting. He says, "what's with the numbers?"

Aoko leans her head onto his shoulder, takes a moment to steady herself, focusing on her breathing. She inhales, holds her breath, and then, after five seconds, she exhales for ten. It's still counting, but not in the same way.

"How many seconds," Aoko says, quiet. "But I don't know how many seconds of what."

"It's okay to be worried," Kaito says, and it's like he doesn't need to ask about it, perhaps because he feels similarly. Or maybe Aoko is just projecting onto him, maybe he isn't concerned about their train ride at all: There are only two options for them after all.

To be caught, or to get away with it.

"I know," she says, closing her eyes. It's too bright outside to block the world, not completely, but all that registers is an orange glow around black shapes. It's easier seeing nothing, keeping her eyes closed like this. "But I can't help but think of all the ways this train ride could go wrong."

"I see," Kaito leans forward, squeezes her hand. "But that's why we stay vigilant right?"

Aoko nods her head against him. Even knowing that they're meant to be on guard, even knowing they're disguised, she feels like they're unprepared.

"And anyway," he continues, "not to play down your anxieties, but the train ride is probably going to be the easiest part. Finding Hattori and Kazuha and being able to talk to them without anyone becoming suspicious will be the hardest part."

For a moment, Aoko feels herself nodding along.

And then, it registers. She opens her eyes, doesn't quite understand why she feels dizzy as the realisation sinks in.

"Toyama-chan?"

Kaito blinks, and then, a smug smile sets across his face, plastered on just as well as their own disguises. He says, "you didn't know that she was helping out?"

Perhaps the scowl that spreads across her face is unwarranted, but Aoko doesn't try to hide it. Her own irritation settles both in her cheeks and her chest.

"How would I know that?" Aoko says, "I only found out about Hattori because it was pretty obvious."

The way Kaito's expression shutters should not look so haunting. There's just something about the way his eyes dim that sends shivers down her spine, her stomach twisting.

"What?"

"Is it really obvious?" Kaito says. "Hattori having helped us?"

Oh.

Yes. Aoko supposes that having such a thing be obvious would be pretty dangerous, wouldn't it? With their lives on the line, not just with police searches but people seeking to murder them…

They're not exactly safe if people know who helped Kaito and Kudo escape.

"Well," Aoko says, "it is and it isn't? I'm pretty good at reading people, I think. So – some of the ways he was acting were suspicious."

"…Is he in danger of being figured out?" Kaito asks, quiet. "With that information?"

It's… well, actually, Aoko doesn't really think that it is possible. She'd found out from a misleading question and her own gut feelings. From little things she'd personally observed. He'd been good at lying – it's just, Aoko had been better at seeing through those lies.

"I don't think so. No one really questioned him as far as I know." She shrugs her shoulders, "and I think the police won't look into him. Because of that murder."

Tapping his fingers against his knee, Kaito takes a moment to consider it. And then, "why not because of the murder?"

"Because of the theory that the accomplice arranged to get the victim," Aoko says. "And because Hattori was seen at the police station around that time. They'd discount him as an accomplice because of that."

She pauses, tilts her head. "How did you guys manage to get Toyama-chan to help you?"

"We didn't, really," Kaito says. "It was more… she found out by accident and has kind of gone along with it since."

"Tell me how?"

Maybe getting fully up to speed with the situation will help her settle her nerves. Aoko hopes so, anyway.

Shinichi doesn't sleep.

He doesn't think with the revelation that he's received, he'd be able to, but he tries anyway, and stares at the ceiling instead. He squints his eyes shut, presses his hands to his ears as if it'll stop his thoughts being so loud, and curls in on himself.

It's so very cold here, even with the portable heater, even wrapped up in blankets, and Shinichi's beginning to get the impression that it's not because of the temperature, but how cold he feels now that he's found out the truth.

The truth is cold, and horrifying, and it leaves him shivering.

He can't do this. Shinichi can't do this. How is he supposed to go into solving a case, knowing that the people who'd died weren't killed to frame him, but rather, to save him?

What is he supposed to do now?

At some point, lying down becomes too difficult, nervous energy bubbling up inside of him, leaving him anxious, jittery. He stops staring at the ceiling, and sits up, rocking back and forth in an attempt to use up the energy.

It doesn't work. And soon, he's pacing back and forth, trying to figure out his thoughts, his feelings. He grapples at the noose around his neck, and knows that it was never real, that it would have never been real. There was never anything to be scared of.

And isn't that even scarier? That he'd faced the worst of the danger when he'd been up against his fellow prisoners, the one's who'd wrapped fingers around his neck and squeezed. Who'd taught him what it was like to be truly breathless, to gasp for air, to see black spots in his vision.

He'd never been scared of all of that, because he'd always been scared of something else, something further away, something fictional.

Shinichi chokes on a sob.

"You shouldn't have told me," he whispers, curling in on himself, rubbing at his cheeks. He shouldn't be letting it get to him, not now, not when there are clues to be found, a case to be solved, but… but it won't leave him be. "Vermouth, why did you tell me?"

He'd known that Vermouth was cruel the minute she'd made herself present, told him she'd been part of the organisation he'd started to look into, promising him information.

And he hadn't trusted her, couldn't trust her. Not even when the information she'd offered rang true. He'd started to think himself a fool, in prison, for not trusting her a little bit, because she'd warned him, because he'd not listened, but now he knows he was smart not to.

How can he trust someone who murders others?

(How does he trust someone who kills to keep him alive?)

The answer: He can't.

He won't.

Gritting his teeth together, Shinichi lowers himself to the floor. He brings a hand to his throat, holds it there. It feels like a weight as he brings it up to his mouth instead. Using it to suffocate the sound that breaks from his throat. Pained, anguished.

Guilty.

He wipes at his cheeks again, keeps wiping at them until they're dry. Then, he pushes himself up, heads towards a small light and clicks it on. He grabs his casefiles, decides to relook over the case.

And then, the names that Hattori and Kazuha had found.

If the organisation own shares in the alcohol company, enough to list the names of various members, then Shinichi knows that's where they should search. Does it include information leading to their head offices, the nerve centre of the organisation? Even if it doesn't, it leaves him with a list of people to look into, a larger pool of people who might lead him there eventually.

Shinichi bites his lip.

And he decides to get started.

Ran doesn't spend much of her time in the police station – even if it's beginning to feel like she does – but she's starting to get the idea that it shouldn't be as busy as it is.

Detectives run from office to office, flittering between departments, and Ran knows half of it is because of Shinichi, but they'd not been as frantic when she'd last visited. There's a flurry of case files, paperwork that is clenched by people's sides as they keep moving as they consider what they need to do next in their cases.

Beside her, Saguru walks slowly, with a sense of calm that is mostly an attempt at pain management, gaze flittering between the flurry of police. He meets her eye after a second, face ashen, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but simply shrugs his shoulders.

He doesn't know either.

Ran supposes that the lack of sleep, the pain medication they'd picked up on the way, and the whole, bullet grazing his skin, isn't leaving him with much energy. He's always been stubborn though, so Ran decides they can wait a while until she brings things up again, before she lectures him on pushing himself too far.

"Something's happened," she says instead, trying to grab his attention. "They're too frantic."

Saguru pauses, hesitates in his step, and takes a moment to stare at the commotion. Sometimes Ran wonders what he sees, what Shinichi and all the other detectives see, when looking at things like this, but right now, she gets the generic idea: Nothing good.

"Yes," Saguru agrees, "the last time it was this chaotic, it was the morning of the break-in to the police station, right?"

He says it as if the event had happened ages ago, not only a week ago. Has it really only been a few days? How strange to think Shinichi has only been outside of prison for no more than two weeks.

"The day of the murder."

Saguru grimaces, nods his head.

Things had become frantic because of an event that would spark public outrage, that would cause commotion with a backlash against the police. Before the murder, there had been a tension, time pressure, but there hadn't been anyone from the media letting the public know.

Then the murder had caused a busyness similar to this one.

The media had caught on and there was a man dead now, so the task force had been doubled. The place had been so busy that day, because everyone had been trying to figure out what their plan of action was next.

"Exactly," Saguru says, "Something happened, and now they're reassessing their action plan."

But for what reason, Ran doesn't really understand.

They decide to head toward Inspector Nakamori's office. Tapping against the door with a weak knock, Ran waits, watches as the inspector turns from his computer towards them.

He looks almost like he's aged in the hours since she last saw him.

Inspector Nakamori's expression shifts as he spots them. His eyebrows furrow, hand lifting up to loosen his tie. He begins to shake his head, lips tightening.

"No," he says, "You kids are done with this investigation."

Saguru leans forward, squints. "I beg your pardon?"

Inspector Nakamori pushes himself up. From the way his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows, it's clear that he's been at the station for hours now. He points down at the chairs by his desk, a silent order for the two of them to sit down.

Slowly, they do.

It's only when they're both sat down, that Nakamori really seems to see them. He looks them up and down, as if assessing them and how they are holding up, his frown deepening.

"You look like shit," Nakamori says, eyes on Saguru.

Saguru's responding laugh is short, tense. He says, "Insomnia. Sometimes it's particularly worse than other days. What's this about us being off the case?"

The inspectors gaze flickers for a moment, to the room outside, and then, back to the both of them. His voice doesn't crack as such, as he speaks, but weariness does drift through each lulled word: "We should never have let you teenagers work on this case, it's highly unprofessional."

"I disagree," Saguru says, and he leans forward, lips twitching from where he supresses a flinch. Ran sits, almost frozen as she watches the two interact. "Give me an example of where we've been unprofessional, and maybe I'd believe you."

The skin around Inspector Nakamori's eyes tightens.

Almost like he is biting on the words, he says, "It's unprofessional because none of you are adults, nor do you have the training."

"What, so we don't have a diploma so now our insight is irrelevant?"

"No, Hakuba-kun," Nakamori says, his voice raised, enough so that Ran finds herself jumping, "your insight is irrelevant, because you're all conflicts of interest."

Ran watches as the words practically die on Saguru's tongue. He looks uncomfortable with the silence that follows.

The inspector shifts in his seat, lets out a long sigh, and continues: "Mouri-san, you and Hakuba-kun both had a close connection with Kudo Shinichi. That Hattori kid too. Hakuba-kun and Aoko were both close classmates to KID. There was always a conflict of interest, but we were desperate."

"And you aren't now?" Hakuba asks.

Inspector Nakamori closes his eyes, inhales sharply. He reaches up, pinches his fingers against the rim of his nose.

"Not desperate enough to let sympathisers to two criminals remain on the case, no."

Ran leans forward, she says, "I'm sorry Inspector, but I'm not sure I understand."

"I heard from Megure, lead on the homicide side of this case, that the two of you were still trying to prove Kudo's innocence." The inspector leans forward, looks between them both. "I'd say that's a pretty big conflict for the two of you, wouldn't you?"

Saguru shifts, "we want to prove his innocence the legal way."

He says it so smoothly that Ran can almost forget that the previous evening had included breaking and entering, that they hadn't spent the hours prior to that, hacking into sealed police files.

"Giving the both of you access to police records while you're sympathetic of a serial killer would be irresponsible." Nakamori's voice grows hard. "I won't allow it, and frankly, the case will probably be better off for it."

"Excuse me?"

"Shinichi is innocent, Inspector."

Inspector Nakamori's fingers tap against his desk, and maybe he would get angry at them, raise his voice, but he doesn't. Perhaps, because despite all his irritations with the case and their situation, he knows he is still talking to children.

Even if Ran doesn't feel too much like a child.

He turns to Saguru first.

"The case has suffered losses because of personal connections." He looks almost pained now. "Aoko's personal connection to KID led to her – from the evidence we have – helping him. Giving him her bullet-proof vest, delivering his heist notice to the precinct."

He pauses.

"Helping him escape the hospital."

Ran hadn't thought it was possible for Saguru's face to pale even further. Ran imagines her face is similar, the blood drained, leaving her looking almost corpse-like. The shock is almost overbearing.

"KID escaped?"

"I expect the two of you will learn about it later," Nakamori says, "when it makes the news. Like every other civilian."

Honestly, Ran knows she shouldn't be so shocked. Aoko had opened up to her, told her about how she loved KID, how she just didn't know how she should feel about him anymore. The other girl must have finally made her decision on how she perceived the thief.

"All worries aside, Inspector," Saguru says, "we're not your daughter."

"No," Nakamori accepts, "you're not. But you're both in a similar situation to her, in relation to your relationships with Kudo. So, you're off the case. We won't risk it any further."

"But–"

"A man is dead," Nakamori says. "Two officers have been tasered, their identities stolen. KID was shot. I don't think you realise how little choice you have in me taking you off this case."

"I guess that all you need to say then," Saguru says, and now he pushes himself up, not bothering to restraint the scowl that twists his lips. "We'll leave you to it."

Ran follows suit, standing. Her expression, she likes to think, is lacking in the hostility that her friend is wearing. She says, "We understand, Inspector. We'll take our leave."

Saguru takes the lead, leaving the room without another word, practically storming out. Ran goes to follow, pauses only when the inspector clears his throat.

"Mouri-san," he says, and Ran turns, watches him. "You truly believe in Kudo Shinichi's innocence, even when the evidence points elsewhere?"

She nods.

The inspector sighs. He says, "having that much faith in the absence of evidence doesn't make you loyal, Mouri-san. It makes you a fool."

"Okay," Kaito says, once they step off the train, uncaught. "It's time to find Hattori."

Aoko shivers against him. It's not cold by any means, but the train station seems to bring a chill with it. Maybe because looking around, there are so many people.

They'd gotten onto the train from Tokyo pretty last minute and had managed to avoid being stood in waiting in the crowd, but now, as they try to figure out where they're headed, they can't avoid it.

She sticks to Kaito like glue. Her hand gripped tightly on his sleeve, like a scared child trying desperately not to seem afraid.

Kaito pulls out his burner phone, taps against the screen. For something that he'll have to throw away if they're noticed, it's pretty expensive, but Aoko supposes that fits into his disguise as well. How many people expect someone to have a smart phone as a burner phone?

"What are you doing?" She asks, arching her neck to see the screen. He's opened the search engine, tapping against the screen to see what shows up.

"Well," Kaito says, "these teen detectives don't really get much privacy, do they?"

Aoko blinks. Sure enough, on the web search, he's looking up Hattori, trying to find out information on the guy.

"…Please tell me you're not trying to use google to figure out where we go next?"

"But that's exactly what I'm doing," Kaito says, he zooms in on the screen, tilts his screen so she can see better. "I mean, it's an efficient way to find out where to go. And see here – his school."

Should she be finding it creepy that the internet know which school Hattori goes to? Isn't that the sort of thing that shouldn't be making it online – who goes around declaring all this information about teenage detectives?

"Right," Aoko says. "That's where we're headed then?"

"Exactly. It's a few hours until the end of the school day. If we catch the next bus, we should get to the school just as classes finishes."

"It's far?"

"Not too far, really," Kaito says, switching from his search for Hattori's information and looking up the route to get to the detective's high school. "It just seems to be one of those buses that likes to take an obscure route."

Ah, Aoko hates bus routes like those.

Either way, it will give her some time to consider what to say when she meets Hattori again, to think about what she will say to Kudo, if the convict is easily accessible.

"Let's go then," she says, looking up at the signs to see which way the bus stops are, "which bus was it?"

Heiji isn't sure whether the paranoia begins to build during class or after they're let out, but he feels it inside his stomach, and would kind of appreciate if it went away.

It doesn't though. In fact, if anything, it intensifies as their cleaning duty after class progresses, even more so as they head out down the gates. As if someone is watching them. Or maybe even, just a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen.

Not an altogether incorrect feeling, he supposes.

But hearing Kudo's fear on the phone yesterday has him slightly freaked. About people being shot – about their leads being that dangerous. Of course, Heiji had known, it'd been hard to forget the danger, but knowing that it's possible someone has been injured again.

Kudo reckons Kuroba and Nakamori.

And if they're being hunted down now, then what means Heiji and Kazuha won't be either, when they'd opened that notable sponsors list?

He stands by the gate, closes his eyes for a moment and tries to breathe.

"Everything okay?" Kazuha asks, stopping in her stride to face him. Maybe he's pale, the blood drawing away from his face, but something in his expression must be rattled enough to catch her attention. "Heiji?"

"Yeah," Heiji mutters. "Just feeling a little…"

"Worried?"

"Paranoid." He reaches up, rubbing at the back of his neck. It doesn't rub away the growing jumpiness. "I think it's just been a long d–"

He trails off, takes a moment to glance around at everything happening around them. Their school opens out to the main street, so it's not unusual for there to be an influx of people walking past. Nor is it unusual for some of the benches by the street to be filled with people.

It's just – he isn't sure.

Something feels wrong. Like they're being watched.

Except there's not really anything out of the ordinary. Businessmen walking past, groups of teenagers sat around, talking after school has ended.

"I'm," he shakes his head, "-it's nothing. Let's walk home."

Perhaps a testament to how well Kazuha trusts him, she doesn't second guess. She simply falls into step beside him, quiet washing over them both as Heiji keeps an eye on his surroundings.

They have to head home before they can drive to visit Kudo, and Heiji reminds himself that this is a good thing. Even if he's impatient most of the time, the distance between school and home are far enough that he can assess his own paranoia to see if it's safe enough to go straight away.

If they're being followed, after all, then it's for the best if they hold off. That way, none of them get traced back to Kudo.

"You can drive a bike, right?"

She frowns, nods her head. "I got m' license a few months after you did, idiot. Of course, I can."

Heiji knows, of course he knows, but somehow having Kazuha explain as such helps to settle him.

He glances around, feels his eyes narrow. There's a few familiar faces even as they turn the corner, heading towards a more residential area, people who had been stood outside the school but now have started walking in a similar direction.

Four catch his attention, leaving him nervous. One, a woman with blonde hair, short, curling around the bottom. Another, a businessman, and lastly, a pair of teenagers like them, both female, talking to one another as they keep walking.

"I think," Heiji says, as they keep walking, taking another turn. Three of his four concerns keep following. Perhaps it's coincidence, but something in his head tells him that it's not. "That we're being followed."

Not many people tend to follow them – Heiji and Kazuha have been walking this route for years. And people don't tend to go the back route, it's not worth it unless they're headed to the edge of the residential area, like Kazuha does.

Kazuha takes the concern with an ease that seems almost too much. She nods her head, and says, "alright, what do we do abou' it?"

"If you head home," Heiji says, "like we usually would, then I'll head back t' mine. If they keep going my way, then I'll let ya know, an' you can head to – ya know – on your bike."

She frowns. "Is splittin' up a good idea, really?"

Heiji shrugs his shoulders. He lowers his voice, "probably not. But I think one o' us should get to Kudo if we are, right? And th' chances of me bein' the one followed are higher than you bein' followed."

Kazuha purses her lips. She says, "okay. But I don't really like this, just for th' record."

Honestly, Heiji doesn't like it too much either.

"Don't tell Kudo until I can confirm it for real," Heiji says. "The guy's paranoid enough."

Kazuha's expression darkens, but still, she accepts. Maybe it's selfish, asking her not to tell Kudo about it, but he does regardless. He could just be overreacting.

"Phone me if everything's okay," Kazuha says, "I want to hear it from you."

Heiji nods. "Of course."

"Alright then," Kazuha hesitates, and then, since they're coming up to her turning, she offers a weak smile and the words, "see you later."

She offers a short wave, and then, she's gone. Heiji keeps walking straight. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that the three he'd been watching, keep walking straight too.

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