Of Succulents and Strings of Fate
Part 1 — Liquid Courage
By Crystal Snowflakes
Summary:
The sky was grey as dark clouds loomed overhead, and the wind bit at the bare skin of his face like tiny daggers. It wasn't raining, but he felt like it should have been.
He felt hollow, empty—like his chest had been crushed by his own weight and left behind.
The world hadn't ended, but for some reason, it felt like it had.
[Rated for Sexual Content in Chapter 3]
Defeating the Black Organization wasn't how Shinichi had imagined it to be. For years, he had spent his spare time dreaming of the day he would take them down—had fantasized about going in and personally holding each operative responsible for all the wrongs that they had committed, had envisioned flames and explosions and gunfire, had pictured that he would be the one to take Gin in.
Reality was, none of that had happened.
Thirty minutes ago, he had been sitting at his desk, oblivious to the ongoings of the takedown as he worked on his junior high math test. His phone had vibrated briefly in his pockets, but it wasn't until the exam was over and done with and the last bell of the day had rang that he had checked his messages.
And that was when he found out that everything had been taken care of—that everything had quite simply 'fallen into place'.
It was only then that he had gotten Ai's attention discreetly while managing to come up with a flimsy excuse for the kids at them needing to leave. They had started making their way to the location provided as soon as possible, but even so, it had been too late.
The sting had been successful and dozens of operatives had been apprehended. Many of those that he knew—Gin, Vodka, Rum, Chianti—had died in the operation. Or rather, in Gin's case, he had left a bullet in his own head when he realized that it was impossible to get out of the exchange without losing his freedom. Vermouth was missing, though he had a mild suspicion that she wasn't going to be a threat going forward and that it was next to impossible to catch her at this point.
As he took a deep breath, the air that filled his lungs felt thin and stale and wrong. His chest tightened in a way that made it hard to breathe, and he could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue as his eyes took in the scene before him.
The sky was grey as dark clouds loomed overhead, and the wind bit at the bare skin of his face like tiny daggers. It wasn't raining, but he felt like it should have been.
Bodies of men and women in black suits and navy tactical uniforms were sprawled out on the ground as far as he could see, their blood mingling with the dirt beneath them, mixing in the soil until it seemed like the whole warehouse district was stained red. Inadvertently, his hands trembled as they lay at his sides.
And his eyes would not look away.
He was no stranger to mangled bodies and blood and had seen more corpses in his life than he had ever needed to see, but for a moment, all he could do was stand frozen in place at the sight of the carnage. His throat burned with bile; he wanted to cough, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. He didn't know who any of these people were, and would likely not learn their names.
He had expected to feel vindicated and triumphed, freed and justified, thrilled and euphoric.
Instead, he felt so hollow that it was as if everything in him had been emptied and drained. His heart ached with the weight of what had happened, ached with the knowledge that so many lives had been lost, ached because none of them could ever be brought back—and he was still standing. It left a void, and nothing seemed real to him at that very moment.
"Kudo-kun." Ai's voice cut through the heavy silence, shattering his thoughts into a million pieces. He felt her hand on his arm as he experienced the sudden adrenaline rush that burst through his system. An irrational thought crossed his mind then: this was all her fault. If it hadn't been for her, insisting over the years that he had to keep his disguise of Edogawa Conan, then he wouldn't have been taking a damn test that didn't matter at all in the grand scheme of things. Instead, he would have joined in taking down the Black Organization—it was his goddamn fight!
But the moment that notion entered his brain, he knew he was being unreasonable and unfair. It had been her paranoia that had probably kept them alive over the years. Nonetheless, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling; anger surged through him, hot and bitter.
"What?" he said, his tone short and curt. His fists clenched into tight balls by his side as a scowl twisted up his features. He could feel his heart beat faster even though he was standing perfectly still.
Her grip slackened, and though he wasn't looking at her, he felt her take half a step back.
"You okay?" The concern in her voice was palpable, but it didn't matter to him. He wanted to lash out at her, wanted to hurt her as much as he was hurting. But the thought made him sick.
"Fine," he mustered. It felt like his throat would tighten so much that it was impossible to breathe. Instead of looking at her, his gaze dropped to the ground between them as he let out a small grunt. "Just need to clear my head."
As he was about to turn around and walk away, her voice cut through the haze in his mind. "Wait, Kudo-kun."
"What?" he repeated, and the harsh tone of his voice surprised even himself. Feeling guilty towards her with his responses, he toned his voice down a bit. "Sorry, Haibara. It's just not a good time."
"I know," she murmured, her hand grasping his tightly, unexpectedly. His eyes flickered over to hers briefly, only to find understanding written all over her face. "As promised, now that they're gone." Cool fingers touched his hand and pried his fingers open before she slipped something in his hand. Before he could figure out what it was she gave him, she had already slipped away through the crowds.
Curious, he shook the small tin container in his palm, and the distinct sound of a pill rattling could easily be heard.
And even knowing that the one thing he had hoped and wished and prayed for was in his palm, he couldn't bring himself to celebrate—couldn't pull himself out of his funk. He knew he was being preposterous. As soon as he got his mind cleared, he would find her and apologize and grovel at her feet. For now, he needed time to think.
He hid the one place he knew he wouldn't be interrupted, the one place he knew he would be alone.
It was strange, being back in his old bedroom. With the curtains drawn, only the barest hint of light trickled through the windows, and he could feel the warmth radiating off the walls as the sun crept past the horizon, painting the room a soft golden hue. The last time he had laid down on his bed was over five years ago.
And as he laid down on his dusty bed with the tin in his grasp—rattling, clinking, clanging—he stared at the ceiling and felt a familiar heaviness threatening to settle over him. Logically, he knew he shouldn't feel like this; he should have been ecstatic, now that everything was over—now that the Black Organization had been taken down.
Instead, he felt hollow, empty; it felt like his chest had been crushed by his own weight and left behind.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, simply watching the faint sunlight stream into his window until it disappeared completely from his view, but it became so dark that it was almost pitch black. He couldn't bring himself to get out of bed, or even leave the safety of his sanctuary, though the multitude of missed calls were growing more insistent by the minute. A shaky breath escaped him as he swiped away the call again, desperate to silence the vibrations of the phone.
The world hadn't ended, but for some reason, it felt like it had.
Eventually, he opened the lid to the tin can, fingers trembling as he held the pill above his face. His mind flashed to all the good memories that he had spent as Conan, all the times he had spent as a child the second time, and wondered if was ready to let that life go. It felt strange, knowing that soon, he'd be back in his own body—in Kudo Shinichi's body.
For a brief moment, he thought about calling the kids; maybe just have a conversation one last time as Conan and to let them know that he was happy—that he was going to be okay. But before he could even begin to do that, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing his lungs to release the air they had been holding onto. And then—unthinkingly, recklessly, daringly—he pushed the pill into his mouth and swallowed it before he could second guess himself.
At first, nothing changed; no warm fuzzy feelings swarmed him as he did before, no sudden rush of pain flooded him. And for a moment, he wondered if she'd given him the wrong pill, or whether she had been doing it to pull his leg. But then, the sudden numbness started creeping up his arm and leg as the pill dissolved into his bloodstream. Before he knew it, his entire body felt like it had been engulfed in flames; his chest was being slowly roasted, his skin began crawling with an overwhelming burning sensation, and his lungs felt like it was scorching every time he breathed.
His heartbeat raced, his breath came in short gasps, and he thought for sure his heart was about to burst.
And for a fraction of a second, he wondered if he made a mistake.
But before he could dwell longer on his regret any longer, his vision faded, the lights went dim, and the world ceased to exist.
When he came to, his shirt was drenched in sweat and clung onto him like a second skin. The wetness of the fabric seeped into every crevice of his bone, the air felt heavy, and his entire body felt weak.
He laid there for a moment just to catch his breath; his heart raced, his arms shook, and his head ached. Groaning, he opened his bleary eyes and looked around the room. It was dark, and a sinking feeling settled inside of him. When he finally tried to move, he found that every muscle of his had cramped up painfully, and his limbs felt like lead weights.
Worst of all, he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
He'd really done it.
Stupidly, he'd tossed the pill into his mouth without a second's thought. He hadn't said his goodbyes, hadn't planned his exit, hadn't even informed his parents—or Ran.
But it was too late for regrets. What was done was done.
With a shaky exhale, he sat up, wincing as the pain shot through his entire being. The empty tin sat harmlessly next to him and he stared at it blankly until he could no longer bear to look at it. It all seemed so surreal now. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted so much to go back to his old life, and now that that time had arrived, he didn't know how to feel.
Then, he pushed himself up, stumbled out of the bed—all gangly limbs and awkwardness—and limped his way out of the room. His legs felt like they weighed two times their original weight—it took him a few seconds to realize that they really were probably twice the weight they had been half an hour ago—and he struggled to drag them towards the washroom as his joints groaned.
The bathroom lights flooded the space with its warm glow, and he flinched at the brightness. Turning on the sink, he cupped his hands underneath the water and splashed his face and neck, and the stinging cold made his cheeks flush pink. When he finally looked up at the mirror, his reflection glared back at him—eyes red and sunken, hair in disarray…
The worst thing was, staring back at him was a face he had never seen before.
He didn't look like seventeen-year-old Kudo Shinichi. He didn't even recognize himself.
Within seconds, he was on his knees—retching, heaving, gagging—as his stomach emptied itself.
He didn't know how long he spent in the bathroom, nor did he care to find out. What he did know was that by the time he finally managed to calm his stomach enough to step away from the toilet to take a warm shower, it was nearing midnight. He was exhausted, he felt like hell, but he was also hungry. Not to mention that he didn't want to sleep. He couldn't. Not yet.
Sending a quick text to Ran from Conan's cell to let her know that Conan's parents had shown up unexpectedly—it had happened so many times over the years that Ran would not be at all suspicious—he turned off both phones and tossed them onto his bed before walking towards his parents' bedroom. As if seeing an unfamiliar face in the mirror wasn't shocking enough, he had to deal with the reality that none of his old clothes even fit him. His shoulders were a little too broad, his arms and legs a little too long, and his hips a little too wide.
Standing in front of his father's closet, he rummaged through the hangers and drawers until he found something he wouldn't mind wearing—a pair of boxers, a pair of dark slacks, a plain shirt, and a sport coat. It was a little loose on him, but he didn't have any other options and it'd have to do for now. He didn't even bother finding any socks.
All he wanted was to leave the house for some fresh air.
Except as soon as he stepped foot outside, he felt lost. Even though it was the exact same street he had left just hours ago, everything looked foreign and wrong. The houses looked smaller, the street lamps looked shorter, even the cars looked tinier. But instead of tunnel-visioning on all the differences his mind was recognizing, he focused on all the familiar places around him instead—the park at the corner of their street where he had grown up playing, the inconspicuous ramen shop two blocks over that had been open for as long as he had been alive, or the soda vending machine that he had frequented for as long as he could remember.
He continued to walk down the street aimlessly, letting the street lights guide him as he attempted to ignore any and all the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. It didn't take his legs long to reach the one place he knew he should go to—The Mouri Detective Agency.
She deserved to know that Shinichi was back—deserved to hear an explanation—especially after the way he had left her so abruptly last time before taking the coward's way and breaking up with a mere phone call. At the very least, she deserved to know that Conan was never going to be coming back.
But Shinichi had always been selfish in his own way.
Truth was, he would rather not have to think about dealing with Ran for a while—not until tomorrow, at least. Once upon a time, the thought of staying away from her would never cross his mind, but things were different now. Whatever had been between them had been cut short when he had made the decision to break up with her when he realized just how dangerous it was going to be for her. The what-ifs still plagued his dreams at times, but at the same time, he didn't feel like getting sucked back into their old pattern.
At least not until he had his head back on straight.
His eyes flickered back to the agency one last time before he turned around and headed to the destination in mind. It wasn't a wise decision, but he didn't care. He just wanted to forget everything that happened the last few hours, even if it was only for a little while.
The place was busy and noisy, and he could hear the crowd—happy laughter and conversations filled the air around him. It didn't occur to him that he should've probably updated his ID until he sat down on the stool. Lucky for him, the bartender took one look at him before giving him a nod and slipping him the drink menu; Shinichi didn't know whether he should have been flattered or insulted.
He ordered the first drink that came to mind, hopeful that it would calm down the raging headache that had now become a dull throbbing behind his eyes. As he waited, his eyes felt drawn to the little pot of succulent that sat innocuously in front of him, the bright flowers standing out in stark contrast against the otherwise dark room around him. He'd never understood people's obsession with those plants, nothing but dirt and leaves. When the bartender finally slid his drink across the table, he looked away from the plant.
The whiskey burned his throat, his eyes watered, and his lips curled in distaste as he sipped from the glass.
Funny. It was the first time he'd ever actually be in a bar. He was twenty-two.
The truth of that bitter pill left him gasping for air. He felt lightheaded and weak and shaky, but he mustered the will to hold himself up as he threw back the entire glass, not caring for the consequences.
It wasn't a dream anymore. It was real, and there was no turning back, and nothing to stop it from being over.
And he had murdered Edogawa Conan. Just like that.
Suddenly, it felt like a million knives were cutting through the soft flesh of his chest, and he had to push down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. His eyes burned again, but this time, it wasn't because of the alcohol. The weight of reality began to set in, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he made the realization.
What the fuck had he done?
He sat in silence for quite some time after, trying his best to come to terms with what he had just done. But his mind refused to settle on an emotion as he ran through everything that had happened today. His hands shook violently as he waved the bartender over for another drink.
His life as Kudo Shinichi had been falling apart for years, so why the hell didn't he just let it die? What was the point of ruining Edogawa Conan's too?
He had another drink, and another, and another until his head swam. And still, he couldn't forget—couldn't forget how he failed at taking down the Black Organization, couldn't forget how idiotic it was for him to impulsively throw the pill down his throat, couldn't forget how shitty he treated Ai when it wasn't even her fault—
His thoughts stopped abruptly, his brain short-circuiting as he caught sight of auburn hair, pale skin and blue eyes. And for a heartbeat, he thought she was a figment of his imagination. But when her gaze landed on him before flickering away instantly, he knew it wasn't a hallucination. She was deliberately ignoring him as she studied her drink, sitting in the most secluded part of the bar, and if it wasn't for her unusual hair, he probably wouldn't have seen her.
Not for the first time that day, he ignored the logistical part of his brain and focused on her features instead. The soft slope of her nose, the way her lips were pursed in distaste, her soft jawline. It was the first time he'd seen her as her actual self, and he felt drawn to her like a moth to flame. He'd always known that she would've been attractive as an adult, but seeing her with his very own eyes…
His feet took over as he shuffled straight to her, and he slipped into the chair across her without asking.
"Thought you didn't want to talk?" she asked, not even trying to mask the accusation in her tone as she placed her drink down, the base of the glass hitting the table louder than expected. Clearly, the pill hadn't taken away her sharp tongue. And neither had the alcohol, if the four empty glasses lined up on the table was any indication. The thing that surprised him, however, was her voice—it sounded so familiar, yet so different.
"Don't put words in my mouth," he muttered, refocusing his attention on her rather than her voice. He couldn't really blame her for being irritated; he had been awful to her earlier in the afternoon.
"You walked away."
He winced, knowing there was little point to deny it. He didn't know what to say. Despite knowing that it was wrong, he had lashed out at her when it wasn't even her fault—when everything had been out of her hands, too. A little ashamed, he continued to stay silent, and her gaze softened, barely imperceptibly, but still enough that he could pick up on the subtle difference in her demeanor.
"I'm sorry," he finally mustered. He didn't know how she did it, but she always seemed capable of reading his mind and understanding what he was thinking of. "I was out of—"
"It's fine," she murmured. "I know you needed to spend time alone to think about what happened today." Her voice was a little shaky as she spoke, but the concern was genuine. And then she did something he would've never expected; she reached across the table and laid her hand over his own and squeezed. By the time he blinked, her hand was gone.
He swallowed, not knowing what to say. Despite knowing that the woman sitting across from him was the same person he had known for years, he also realized at that moment that he didn't know this woman—he didn't know Miyano Shiho.
"I—" His voice cracked.
For as long as they had known each other, even from the first day onwards, it seemed like they had been on the same wavelength. Without trying, they were always able to finish each other's sentences, each other's thoughts, each other's ideas. Their minds were always in sync with one another, and they seemed to be able to communicate without having to think about it; it had always felt natural—right.
They had clicked so well from the very start that their relationship felt more like an inescapable bond; like they had known each other their entire lives. And in a way, they had.
And even though they were still the same people with the same personalities, something felt… off.
Like wheels turning at different speeds, or gears grinding out of place, or—
"I didn't think you'd take the pill." It wasn't what he had planned to say, but the words escaped his mouth before his mind caught up; he blamed his lack of control on the alcohol swimming through his system. The truth of the matter was, they had never openly discussed her future. He had always assumed that when he went back to being Kudo Shinichi, she would stay the same; he hadn't thought about a life for her after.
Not until now, anyway.
The softness around her eyes hardened, and the corner of her lips tightened into a bitter smile. "I didn't think I needed your permission," she replied, her tone flat.
He knew he should have left it alone because there was something in her voice, so different from the sharp bite he was used to. But he couldn't stop himself, even if he wanted to. "What about the Professor? He—"
"That's between the Professor and I," she said with a shrug, her gaze shifting away from him.
He could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiff way her body held herself, even as her hands tightened into fists. His mind told him to leave it alone, but the words were out of his mouth before he had more time to consider them, "And the kids?"
He regretted speaking the moment those words tumbled past his lips.
She stiffened, and her gaze flickered back towards him. An edge came over her then, a slight twitch in her jaw as her lips thinned. "Are you seriously going to sit here and question me about everyone that I've gotten to know over the last few years?" Venom dripped from her words. "And you? Have you told the Professor? The kids? Your parents?" she asked, each word sharp and stinging as she spoke, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.
"Mouri-san?"
"That's—"
"None of my business, correct?" she asked, her tone trembling with barely restrained anger, before she let out a huff of annoyance. "You're such an idiot. And a hypocrite." Shaking her head, and before he knew it, she stood up, grabbed her jacket, and stalked off towards the entrance without giving him a second glance.
Shinichi sat there—frozen—as his brain reeled over what had just happened; she was right on all accounts, but he hadn't expected her reaction to be so volatile. It only took his mind a few moments to realize she was leaving. Without saying goodbye.
His eyes caught her reflection in the glass doors, and saw the way her shoulders were tense and rigid from anger. Practically stumbling, he shoved himself out of the chair and headed for the door after her. All the while, he ignored the judging gazes and disapproving frowns people were casting him from their own tables.
"Wait! Hai—Miyano!" She paused at the entryway as looked over her shoulder slowly, her eyes drilling into him. The hurt on her face caused him to feel physically sick to his stomach.
"What do you want?" she hissed, fury clear on her face as her hand shook by her sides, her fists tightly balled together. Her jaw was set tightly as she stared down at him through those narrowed eyes of hers. "Are you going to chase me back to my place like some kind of lovesick puppy or something? Because I'm not—"
He blamed liquid courage for the next words that fell from his mouth. "I'm not chasing you," he muttered, though the raise of her eyebrows told him she clearly didn't believe him. "I just want to understand, that's all. You've never once shown any desire to go back as…" The look she shot him, full of disdain, caused him to falter, and awkward, he motioned toward her—all of her.
Holy shit he should've just left it alone.
A bitter chuckle tumbled past her lips. "So now I'm an enigma for you to solve, Meitantei-san?" she hissed out, eyes dark with fury.
The hurt and anger in her voice caused him to flinch. "No! That's not what I meant and you know it!" he defended, and hoped the pleading note in his voice was obvious. And he should have stopped there; he really should have, but the words kept coming. "You always said you enjoyed your time with the kids, and that the Professor was like family since—"
"Stop analyzing me."
"I'm not! I just want to under—"
The next moment, he felt hands grab the lapels of his coat before being yanked forward. A sharp breath of air escaped his mouth in surprise as her nose brushed against his. He could see her eyes shining, the pain swirling within; but all he could focus on was the blue of her eyes—how bright and beautiful and piercing they were. Her gaze softened, and the grip on his coat lessened. Nevertheless, his heart pounded furiously against his chest as the warmth of her body radiated and seeped into his.
As he was about to open his mouth again, he caught a faint waft of floral perfume. Before he could figure out whether it was coming from her or not, his eyes widened as her lips, soft as silk, pressed against the corner of his mouth briefly—painfully, almost like a goodbye—and pulled away.
He couldn't react; he could only stare dumbly at her as she turned around and began walking away.
"Stop drinking and go to Mouri-san," she called over her shoulder. Before he could respond, she had walked through the doors and walked out.
He didn't know how long he stood there, his mind spinning with thoughts of what had just happened. But when he finally managed to refocus his attention on where he was, he noticed the rows and rows of succulents that adorned the walls of the reception area.
His brows furrowed slightly at this. Why did the succulents matter?
What he needed was sleep. Then he would invite himself into the Professor's house and ask what the hell that was, because somehow, without even trying, she threw his mind into turmoil and left without another word.
Shinichi scoffed.
Of course she'd do that. She was the only one to be able to get under his skin without even trying. Knowing her, she only brushed her lips against him out of spite because he had made her mad.
Dammit.
The walk back home was a blur. He remembered passing by the Mouri Detective Agency and looking up at the windows briefly before continuing on his way. What he remembered the most, though, was how Ai's—no, Miyano's—bedroom lights were still on. And while he had been tempted to barge in at the very moment to demand answers and a conversation, he knew that he wasn't in the right mindset to do so.
When he finally laid down in bed and stared up at the ceiling, a small part of him knew that sleep wouldn't come quickly.
As soon as Shinichi's eyes blinked open from sleep, he was already wide awake.
The sunlight streamed through the slit of the curtains, and the faint sound of birds singing reminded him where he was and what had happened last night.
He had to talk to her.
He had to apologize and grovel at her feet for his shitty behaviour yesterday afternoon—for lashing out at her when it wasn't her fault—and for not letting things be when she clearly didn't want to talk when they ran into each other last evening.
Shooting upright, he immediately regretted the decision as his head pounded, though it didn't stop him from pushing himself out of bed. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he hurried to the bathroom to brush his teeth before throwing on whatever clothes he found in his father's closet.
He had to see her.
The walk to her house took less than a minute, but even so, it felt too long. When she didn't answer the door when he rang the bell, he felt bad; she was probably still asleep. Nonetheless, he knocked a little louder, wondering if he should head back home and try a bit later. In the end, he decided to return home to dig through the kitchen drawer for the set of extra keys for the Professor's house before walking back, unlocking the door, and letting himself inside.
"Oi, Haibara!" he called, kicking his shoes off before walking in. His voice echoed off the walls of the house, and he decided to take a peek in the basement to make sure she wasn't down there; it was empty.
A little too empty. It had definitely been tidied up recently.
And while he would have definitely pried around normally, he was in a rush to see her. His footsteps echoed up two flights of steps until they hit a doorway—her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and suddenly, he felt a sense of apprehension.
Would she curse him if he woke her up?
"Hey, Haibara," he called again. Her name flowed past his lips, and he couldn't help but think that he'd have a hard time getting used to calling her by the right name. "Are you awake?"
When she didn't answer, very hesitantly, he pushed the door all the way open just enough to peak inside.
Shinichi felt his heart drop at the sight.
It was absolutely spotless. There were no clothes to be seen, no creases on the bed sheets, no trinkets left on any surfaces. The room looked like it had never been lived in; in fact, everything looked exactly as it had five years ago before she had made her way to the Professor's house and decided to stay.
Except for that pot of succulent that sat on the ledge of the windowsill. He stared at it, and remembered how she had bought it for herself on that seemingly unimportant day—he learned later that it had been her birthday.
Swallowing thickly, he stood there in disbelief for what felt like an hour.
Then he turned around before closing the door behind himself.
Author's Notes: You would not believe the writer's block I had for this story. But because I'm incapable of writing smut without plot, what was supposed to be a smutty one-shot turned into a three-chaptered fic XD Hoping to post the next two chapters before Christmas, but I have a lot of projects ongoing right now, so hope you can be patient with me. Please enjoy!
Completed: November 14, 2021