The scene of the crime amidst a field. At the center of this cop-infested piece of nature, the murder victim laid peacefully upon a bed of grass. Her frail pale face blotched with the droplets of a diluted crimson.

I eyed everything, mimicking Shinichi's observation skills; wondering if anything my mind detailed could compare to how he analysed and interpreted the finer points.

The victim appeared so serene; nothing at all like how I envisioned what the body bag held from our time at the Yamazaki manor. Plainly before my eyes this woman could very well be a doll painted in makeup, an actress to play today's role of the dead. My imagination must have spooked me more when I saw Mayuri covered, and wondered how mutilated the body had become underneath. It's almost a relief to know the imagination is more fearsome than reality. Regardless, there's an unspoken aura which a corpse emits; eerie whispers of silence impossible to tune out.

"22-year old, female," Megure stated. "Blunt force to the head, then stabbed in the chest."

"No witnesses?" Shinichi asked.

"None."

"Ah!" An officer yelped, grappling me away from the body by the collar after I attempted to give it an experimental poke.

"Kudo," Megure muttered. "I know the job is appealing and all, but did you have to bring your girlfriend? There's better places to go for a first date."

Shinichi reprimanded me with a flick to the forehead. "It's not a date."

I made a sullen face at his method of scolding then responded with, "yeah," and swayed from heel to toe. "Besides, my first date is going to be beachside with a butler serving rare French desserts."

"Funny..." Shinichi deadpanned.

"Yeah?" I murmured. "Well, I bet your first date is going to end in a beachside homicide investigation."

He elbowed me. I elbowed back. An elbow war has begun.

Three knocks in he evaded, and sent me off balance. So, instead I stated, "you know what they say: follow the trail of murder and eventually it will follow you."

"No one says that," Shinichi replied.

"Your fans do."

"Which fans?"

That took a moment of external thought. "DCTP?"

"What...?"

"Hey!" An officer struggled with a young girl who fought to get past the crime-scene tape.

"Let me through," the girl cried. "I know her!"

Shinichi approached them, asking, "what's the problem?"

"That's my sister!" She yelled.

A lapse of attention from the officer, and the girl slipped through, only to be detained by several others. They settled her down, and took a statement; when she last saw the victim, an alibi, and so on. Throughout the whole confrontation the girl cried. Yet, despite her tears she kicked all who attempted to offer physical comfort, and bit the head off of anyone who called her sister the victim.

"Feisty little thing," Shinichi remarked.

"I dunno." Watching the girl defend her sister even after death spoke volumes of how alive their bond must have been, as well as how broken it must be now. "How would you react if someone you loved became a mere factor in an investigation?"

"I wouldn't believe it."

A feeble laugh arose from within me. "A man of facts, who deals with evidence and truth, wouldn't believe what he sees with his own eyes?"

"There's always deception. I've dealt with forged deaths... "He leaned back, hands in his pockets, staring at the night sky while he spoke, "everything would have to be confirmed to the point of obsession. Alibis and testimonials, DNA, even dental tests― every detail would have to be flawless before I could accept such a thing..."

Shinichi's distant gaze, to my eyes, was painfully clear. This possibility has run around his mind more than once. As someone who deals with death on an almost daily basis, it's no wonder the topic's found it's way into his personal thoughts.

I took his hand into mine, twined our fingers, and gave him a light smile. "Then I hope you never have to go to such lengths."

Shinichi returned the expression gratefully, squeezing my hand before letting go to mingle back in with the authorities.

He pointed out to them members of the crowd. Suspects I suppose; they all crossed the crime-scene tape. Sometime later the coroners escorted the body off the premises. Then we all hopped in a cop car and took a trip to the station.

With the whole back seat to myself, I comfortably laid across the entirety of it, saying, "never thought I'd sit in one of these."

Shinichi got the front seat, no questions asked. Simply slipped right in after politely holding the back door open for me. Hmph. Luring me in with manners, only to leave me to ride suspiciously in the backseat alone. Since when can a high schooler call shotgun in a police vehicle?

Out of boredom my imagination tangled with the idea that I'd been arrested, and for good reason. Oh, yes. A hard criminal to catch. Slipped through every loophole, dodged all barricades, till finally they caught me. But with what evidence? I would've been unarmed in an unmarked vehicle, no loose ends, no witnesses. And free the next day.

Shinichi snuck a glance at me over his shoulder. Oh? Had I been thinking that loud?

"Little lass like me won't survive behind bars." I placed my palm flat against the suspect transport enclosures, pleading, "Officer, ya gotta listen. It wasn't me. I'm innocent! You've got the wrong―!"

"You're not being arrested," Shinichi interrupted, obviously in no mood for games.

Still I grinned. "Aw, Officer, you believe me! Now, would you be so kind as to meet me in court and tell the jury―"

Shinichi forcibly frowned. "Keiko..."

To my surprise and delight, the eavesdropping driver, Chiba, chuckled at our interactions.

Not unlike a hospital, the police headquarters carried a clinical air. Disasters from all around at all times converge here; to people at desks. Accidental or not, someone somewhere needs help, and those who can offer assistance are either on the scene now or dealing with the aftermath later. A job that never ends.

The suspects individually filled out statements, underwent interrogations, and waited as Shinichi discussed the case with his colleagues. Seeing as I'm not savvy with the technicalities, I fell out of the loop here. So, with a visitor's pass in hand, I scuttled off onto an adventure. Which was basically me going everywhere the pass allowed me access to; police bathrooms, phone booths, some odd offices, and the break room. I found every other door to be locked or occupied with someone who politely ordered me to go away.

Once Shinichi and I rendezvoused outside the interrogation rooms I recounted the highlights of my trip around headquarters.

"You found every possible place that badge allows you access to," Shinichi asked. "In a matter of ten minutes?"

"Track," I stated as an excuse.

"Still... why?"

"After getting acquainted with the coffee machine I just- I dunno- feel like I gotta do something!"

"Of course..." Shinichi sighed, exhausted, "you do know we have to wake up for school in four hours, right?"

"What?"

"Nevermind." He took my hand. "Follow me."

We strolled to an empty conference room, occasionally swinging hands as we did. Pictures of suspects, evidence, and written statements were spread out upon a wide table inside. Shinichi leaned over, studying the facts.

Watching Shinichi work got me thinking, alright detective, let's see how that mind of yours works. How do you solve crimes? Maybe connect the evidence, or reread the statements?

Shinichi's eyes darted from the table to me several times, till finally he confronted me with, "what?"

Trying for casual nonchalance, I slid into a chair and spun away to observe over my shoulder. However, Shinichi's focus remained on me, now with his head tilted and eyebrow curiously raised.

So, I stammered out an, "ignore me."

"How?"

"Keep thinkin' of the case."

"But you're staring right at me," given a few seconds he said, "now you're glaring."

"Fine." After going outside to peer secretly through the doorway, he returned to the case. Learning how he puzzles out his cases could help me solve my own, I thought anxiously. Shinichi cupped his chin, eyes unfocused and intense. Where will you begin? Put a suspect in the hot seat, force them to fess up? Yeah. Also some off the books snooping and—.

Shinichi snapped his fingers. "I know who did it."

"Really..." My expectations deflated on the spot. How'd he do that so fast? Where'd the process go? "No build up; heavy discussions? No tearing apart the evidence? ...and I know you skimmed over those statements."

"A great detective need only skim. Besides, the case was odd, yet simple."

"Right," I waved him away. What are methods to a machine anyway? "Go on, save the day."

Shinichi called everyone, one by one the suspects and officers involved in the case piled into the conference room. Finding it cramped, I sat outside.

Right when the biggest energy crash hit me, the door clicked open, and the culprit, plus two officers, exited. It wasn't who I thought it was going to be, that's for sure. A humble older gentleman wearing handcuffs and tears. Emotions poured out from the room along with the man, immediately drowning me in dread. And when he met my eye, almost pleading for sympathy, I couldn't help but wonder; why is it that criminals never appear the way they should?

On the way home we ended up in the same seating, except this time Shinichi had all the energy. He happily retold a synopsis of his deduction to me, and like a morbid lullaby, it lulled me to sleep.

Warm. Warm and comfortable. My eyelids felt too heavy to open. Someone seemed to be carrying me by piggyback; I could feel each step they took ripple from their legs to me. Being disoriented and tired, the situation should've worried me, yet the scent of a certain shampoo helped me decipher the person. Shinichi.

Soon after the click of a door, he plopped me down onto a cushiony surface.

"Keiko?"

"Hm?"

"Are you awake?"

"No." The comfort of the moment felt too good to say otherwise.

Shinichi softly chuckled. "You fell asleep in the police cruiser." When no response came from me he went on, "will you tell me now? Why are you afraid of cats?"

"Sleep..." I urged.

"Come on..." he urged right back.

"Fine. It's..." given a moment of quiet I began to drift away to dreamland.

So, Shinichi poked, and prompted me, "it's?"

"It's something... (poke) from a long time ago... (poke) I can't remember why..."

"Seriously?" The amount of disappointment painted into that one word astounded me.

"I don't need a reason to be afraid..."

Still, I could practically hear his eyes rolling. "Is that so?"

"Yeah... irrational fear," I clarified. "Ya know, sometimes people don't need a reason to be scared, like the fear of the dark... and it's okay. Everyone's got something. For me it's cats..." He remained silent, so I added, "Shinichi, you're scared of something as well. Don't try to deny it. Even for someone like you... who knows what's in the dark."

Time stretched on, as I awaited his response, a dream nearly stole my consciousness away.

Then Shinichi whispered, "yeah," as he switched off the lights. "Because knowing what's in the dark, doesn't keep it away."

With the amount of distractions last night, facing the next day with a level head came easily. Till Mother phoned in, and the gravity of Grandma's condition crystallized in my stomach like a lead brick. A heart attack, mild in intensity. Yet a medical emergency is the last thing anyone needs to worry about considering our situation. To think of her as a hindrance in any way vexed me, but for everyone's safety, I encouraged the choice they had to make.

"Sachiko!" A classmate called, snapping me from my aimless thoughts. "The curtains?"

"Oh!" I darted into action, "on it!" and blindly bumped into a passerby. Then bowed apologetically afterwards, shouting, "sorry!"

They steadied me by the shoulder. "It's alright."

That's when Shinichi maneuvered around them and grinned. "Since you were spacing out, I fetched it." He held up the black curtains before taking them inside.

When he returned I handed him a juice box from the supplies. "Stop being so nice..."

"Thanks," he accepted it, sat down beside the door against the wall, then patted the ground for me to do the same. Seems anyone taller than me got stuck with the heavy lifting. Shinichi being one of them—exhausted and drenched in sweat—yet babied me despite himself.

"No." I dropped to his side. "Thank you."

"Did you find out anything?"

"Yeah." The feeling in the pit of my stomach became more palpable. "My Grandma had a small heart attack... but she's fine now."

Shinichi reeled me into a side-hug. "I'm glad she's okay."

A bright flash, accompanied by the shutter of a camera, blinded us.

Then when we could finally see, Ran waved a camera at us, chuckling out a, "hi," as she did.

"Why?" I asked, still trying to see around a giant white dot blotting my vision.

Ran smiled wide and proud. "I saw a moment and captured it."

A younger girl some distance away quiveringly reached for Ran, and asked, "can I have my camera back?"

"Can I have this picture developed?"

"Y-yes."

Timidly the girl led a happy Ran away to the Photographers Club a few doors down.

"Any chance we'll get the photo back?"

Shinichi merely shrugged.

All in all, the preparations for the festival were far more enjoyable than the thing itself. No one showed up to take over our shift managing Two-Terror, leaving Shinichi and I with all the work. So, for the both of us the festival closed on a bitter note.

After hearing of our woes, Ran decided Karaoke would be the cure to a bad day. Shinichi firmly disagreed. Which was odd considering how he's generally okay with everything, including but not limited to, sniffing dead bodies. When asking his reason why, he avoided explanations, and criticised the establishments selection of songs. Only clicking his mouth shut when Sonoko demanded he either keep quiet or leave.

To spice it up we split into teams, and choose what songs the one other would sing. Ran and Sonoko against Shinichi and I.

When deciding on what they should sing he showed no mercy; picking fast paced songs like Feel You Heart and Girigiri Chop, saying, "trust me," when I asked why he wanted to give them a hard time.

It never occurred to me that that would be our only way to win till Shinichi took the mic. His... unique tone stunned me to the point of... well... I forgot to sing. However Ran and Sonoko's chortles broke the spell, and to the best of my ability, I overlapped his voice with mine. Shinichi took it the wrong way though, singing louder to combat me, till we reached the point of practically yelling at one another. Once the song ended we stood nose to nose, gritting our teeth as we waited for the music to start up again. Then a love song began to play. And I Can't Stop my Love For You flew meekly from our lips.

"I can't stop... I can't..." I dropped the microphone. "I can't sing this!" To which they doubled over laughing. "Geez!"

Shinichi set the mic down, a blush painting his cheeks. "This is playing dirty."

"Like the songs you gave us weren't the same?" Ran managed to ask around her giggles.

We considered it wise at the moment to say nothing.

On Sonoko and Ran's turn, Shinichi idly queried, "still doing that thing for Agasa?"

"Yep," I answered just as Sonoko tripped over the first verse. "Went in a few times already, but the drink still gives me hiccups."

Shinichi grimaced. "It's a mystery how you can stomach it; that whatever drink."

"He calls it," I paused for effect, "Tongue Twister."

Shinichi faltered. "Of course..."

Agasa's home felt abandoned. Well, when considering that he's a single man who lives alone, it also feels the same anytime he hits the store. Still. Afternoon. Post-lunch. Typically the time when his ideas stir him to the point of— oh. He's probably in the lab.

"Professor." Ever so cautiously, I toed the door to his lab open. "You home~?" Abruptly the door flipped open, spewing a blast of blue mist into the halls. Open mouthed, and unable to avoid it; the taste of this blue substance hit my tongue and turned out to be none other than his infamous Tongue Twister.

I hiccuped.

"Again?!" Agasa exclaimed.

"Sor- (hiccup) -ry"

"It's fine. I theorised that heating it a certain way would alter its chemical make-up, but..." He collapsed at his desk in dismay.

Poor old man. I gave him a sympathetic pat.

We passed around cleaning supplies, tidying, despite that the stuff went everywhere. However, wiping his desktop brought an interesting trinket to my eye. Roundabout the size of a pinball with a fan-looking object protruding from the top.

I pressed a button on the round end and asked, "what's this?"

Agasa took it, mimicked my gesture with the device, and said, "a prototype. It marks my first attempt to create a device that is able to recreate any voice; old, young, boy, or girl."

"Wha- you―!" My voice came from his mouth, how—? "You sound like me!"

"That's because you embedded your voice onto this little machine. So far that's all it can do, copy one voice. Similar to a Lyrebird that can mimic any sound in its environment. Except this is specific to one sound now; yours."

"Lyrebird? Now anyone can sound like me?" I clasped my hands together. "Awesome! Can I keep it?!"

"Sorry." He slipped it into an open drawer and shut it. "It's my only prototype, maybe next time."

"Okay..." My plans for it deflated. "Oh, Professor, you know how Ran trains in Karate?"

"Of course."

"Well, with the rookie workout the Track Team has me on, there's extra time for me to go watch her moves after practice. And she has this friend that's taken me aside to teach me a type of Kung Fu. Wing Chun, I think."

"That's nice, but what is it exactly?" He asked whilst returning to tinkering.

"Wing Chun is all about speed in the arms and wrists along with some funny footwork. Such as pivoting the feet to hold up one's weight against an attack. Ran told me Wing Chun is supposed to be used to borrow the attacker's force to your advantage, yet all that girl teaches me is how to deflect an attack; push the force of a punch away with an open handed punch of my own and such. I don't think that person likes me much."

"Selective teaching isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"I guess... Ran says that person participates in mixed martial arts tournaments, and has a hard time when it comes to blocking anything Kung Fu."

"I see." Agasa smirked. "A win-win scenario; you learn a new skill, and she can use you for practice."

"Exactly."

"So." He smiled. "How was the festival?"

My shoulders fell. "Where to start...?"

Agasa cringed as much as I did on some of the details; such as the girl who exited Two-Terror in uncontrollable tears. Therefore to liven up his mood for poking at gadgets, I confessed my thoughts on Shinichi's singing. He laughed at how it turned into a competition.

Visiting the Professor comes regularly nowadays. At home, it's becoming entirely too difficult to stand the company, since Mother and Father are not rocks, and can talk back, or start fights, or ground me. The truth is, Grandma went into Protection. Due to her medical condition they thought it wise to not keep her here, and while I do agree, it's made nights nearly unbearable.

On my way home Shinichi appeared, leaning his entire body weight against my back as I struggled to hold him up. When I lost balance and collapsed, he spun round and caught me.

With me draped over his arm, he had the nerve to shake his head disapprovingly, and say, "you can't keep dropping in like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I wiggled to get free. "You imp."
"Hmph." He released me, yet followed. "Are you expecting me to disregard that forlorn look you were wearing a second ago?"

We kept walking with me too coy to say anything, and him too stubborn to ask again.

Then Shinichi tripped me, moving around as he did, so that I also fell right into his arms. "If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask."

My face flushed. "I hope you're not expecting a reward for this."

"Nah, but if you really want to," he grinned, "Castella~."

I giggled into his shirt. "No~!"