Merry Christmas! Have a holiday bonus chapter! For those who don't celebrate Christmas, Happy We're-getting-closer-to-spring-again! And for Christmas, the universe gave to me, a potential case of Covid 19~ _ Haven't tested positive yet, but I'm sick with something if the sniffles are anything to go by (and was in secondhand contact with someone who is sick with covid, so *shrug* wait and see)

The cleanup, compared to the investigation, was refreshingly straightforward. Lan Zhan barely needed to think about the cleansing preparations, confiscating the beads, and putting together a group of disciples to send to be sure that no ghostly remains of resentment lingered with the actual body and, presumably, the beads he'd been buried with. Truly, his uncle and brother had worse tasks. His uncle was entrenched in the legal end of things, in contact with lawyers and police, while Lan Huan dealt with calling families and all the proper channels of dealing with corpses and distraught relatives. Lan Huan would also be addressing the guests after breakfast to give an explanation for the lockdowns.

In contrast to all that, speaking with a few well-known disciples was far less stressful than dealing with the public. Lan Qiren had the worst task of spinning a non-supernatural explanation for the deaths. Lan Zhan had finished his tasks within the hour and settled back with Wei Ying in their bed to meditate until breakfast began.

Now, Wei Ying clung to him, sleepy and unhappy with it as Lan Zhan made to get up.

"Nooo," Wei Ying whined. "Stay."

"Wei Ying, it is nearing the end of the delayed breakfast period."

"Cook something?" Wei Ying's nose pressed against the top of Lan Zhan's hip bone; one hand fisted in the loose cloth of his sleep pants. It was terribly distracting.

Lan Zhan stroked his boyfriend's hair and resisted temptation. "Mm, not today."

"Hm?" Wei Ying clutched closer. His whole torso was a warm comma against Lan Zhan's legs.

"There is still the aftermath of the murders."

Wei Ying grumbled something that sounded like it might contain a few swear words. Since Lan Zhan couldn't hear them clearly, he chose to ignore it. "Hate ghosts," Wei Ying said with a bit more intelligible speech.

"Mm." Lan Zhan was less than fond of them, all the more so for last night. Still, personal emotion didn't change necessary action. "We must get up."

"Bring me back breakfast?" Wei Ying pleaded; an eye slitting open.

Lan Zhan was weak to his looks. He weighed the benefit of Wei Ying's smile against his uncle's ire and his brother's exhaustion. He should add the elders' opinions in there, but Lan Zhan had long decided that the only opinions in the sect he cared about would be his immediate family. Considering that people had died last night though, he really shouldn't indulge Wei Ying this time. "Up," he said, smoothing hair back from Wei Ying's forehead to kiss him there.

Wei Ying's face scrunched up. Pleasure and irritation. "Mean," he said.

"I will cook you breakfast tomorrow. There is a new jar of chili oil."

"Promise?"

"I do," Lan Zhan said, solemn as a vow. He was always happy to indulge Wei Ying when circumstances allowed him to. Today, however, was not one of those days.

Wei Ying sighed and held out his hands like he was a toddler expecting to be picked up. His eyes were still half closed, his hair a mess, and his over-sized, well-worn shirt slipping off one shoulder. To anyone else he was a mess, but to Lan Zhan Wei Ying was at his most precious appearance. Open, vulnerable, and completely trusting that Lan Zhan would care for him.

Lan Zhan stood and pulled Wei Ying into an embrace. Wei Ying leaned against him, content to let his weight be held up in Lan Zhan's arms.

"Get dressed," Lan Zhan said with another kiss to Wei Ying's head.

Wei Ying pressed a clumsy kiss to his jaw in return before staggering off to the closet to find something clean and acceptably neat for the day.

In the time it took for Wei Ying to fumble into a pair of pants, a shirt, and socks, Lan Zhan had put on robes, brushed his hair, and fully presented his usual self to the world. Wei Ying stole the hair brush from Lan Zhan's dresser and dragged it roughly through his messy hair.

"I hate how you look so neat with so little effort," he grumbled, tugging on knots.

"Brush from the bottom up," Lan Zhan said with fond exasperation. He took the brush back to tidy Wei Ying's hair without ripping a good chunk of hair out in the process.

"My way's faster."

"Your way is bad for your hair and painful," Lan Zhan said. He tied Wei Ying's hair up in his preferred ponytail. He couldn't help straightening his clothing after.

"I don't suppose there's coffee waiting?" Wei Ying asked plaintively.

"Not this morning." Normally Lan Zhan would wake earlier and have it ready. Waking at the same time made that impossible.

"Then sneak me some oolong?"

"I will try," he said, knowing the disciples in the kitchens would be only too happy to brew some. They liked Lan Zhan, and liked Wei Ying because Wei Ying was hard to dislike, especially when he took the time to be charming.

"You are the best and I love you dearly," Wei Ying said with another jaw-cracking yawn. "Ugh. Why is it always morning too soon?"

Considering that Wei Ying had once said this after waking at one fifteen in the afternoon, Lan Zhan chose to ignore that.

There were equally sleep-hungover disciples and guests making their slow way toward the dining hall once they left their room. Lan Zhan let Wei Ying all but sleepwalk the way there, one of his hands caught on Lan Zhan's sleeve like a small child as he allowed himself to be led. While Lan Zhan should see it as a character flaw, it was one more thing that left him warm inside that he had Wei Ying's trust and vulnerability in moments like this and every morning spent together.

"Sit," he said gently when they reached the dining hall. "I will get us both food."

"Mm, okay, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying plopped down at Lan Zhan's usual table where his uncle and brother were already sitting, meal mostly finished.

Lan Zhan met his uncle's eyes and gave a nod of acknowledgement. His uncle frowned back, a disapproving stare directed at Wei Ying's slumped posture and half-closed eyes. Lan Zhan raised a single brow. Wei Ying was rarely a morning person, and would definitely not be one on an occasion where his sleep was interrupted. His uncle sighed, Lan Huan sent Lan Zhan a smile, and Lan Zhan turned away to approach the kitchens for strong tea and chili oil.

When he got back with food and tea, Wei Ying's slump was closer to a defensive hunch as Lan Qiren complained about his use of demonic cultivation. One for following rules to the letter, Lan Qiren's meal was finished.

"I can understand using it to communicate, and even to track. But there is no reason to have a corpse walking around the Cloud Recesses!"

"It was faster than leaving the corpse there or carrying it back," Wei Ying said. "And no one else died after the second corpse, so I think we're doing pretty well considering how things could have gone."

Lan Qiren sighed, pinching his brow. "The Cultivational Alliance is going to ask questions about this incident and I'm going to have to explain why you're not even getting a slap on the wrist for using demonic cultivation."

Lan Zhan slid into the seat at Wei Ying's side, putting a cup of tea directly into Wei Ying's hand.

"Lan Zhan, you're perfect," Wei Ying said to him, taking a drink—and likely burning his mouth—before turning back to Lan Qiren. "I'm your morally-gray inventor-person who you're keeping an eye on to not let me be evil, or whatever that excuse was that let me live here in the first place. Anyway. No one was hurt by my cultivation, a ghost was vanquished peacefully, and I can come up with some useful thing or another and you can give it to the alliance as appeasement."

Lan Zhan felt his lips press in a tight line. Wei Ying had helped. He shouldn't have to face anything for that.

"This is a headache and a half," Lan Qiren grumbled.

"For once, I completely agree," Wei Ying said.

Lan Zhan pushed a bowl of congee and a bottle of chili oil in front of Wei Ying's face. Wei Ying was instantly distracted into pouring far too much red oil into his breakfast and mixing it up.

"You will still need to justify your usage to a panel of elders," Lan Qiren said.

"No talking during meals," Lan Zhan cut in as Wei Ying took a large bite of his breakfast.

Lan Qiren pursed his lips.

It might be petty, but Lan Zhan took a certain sort of pleasure at turning the rules back at his stickler of an uncle at times. He could understand now why Wei Ying had liked to annoy him by doing the same thing in their younger years. Lan Huan hid amusement in his meal, pointedly not getting involved at all. Lan Zhan made sure to take measured, slow bites, just to put conversation off longer. Wei Ying had no similar restraint though and was most of the way done before Lan Zhan even reached halfway.

*O*O*

The announcement was somber, held after breakfast ended. Kaito sat with Edogawa and his group as Lan Huan explained in concise terms that there had been two deaths on the premises, and that the issue was now contained. He spun them as accidents, and that the lockdown had been because the deaths were being investigated. It was impressive how Lan Huan managed to remain entirely truthful while also leading to a completely wrong conclusion of events. Kaito could appreciate that level of misdirection.

After more serious words of grief, and an offer of people to talk to if the guests were feeling unsafe in any way, the events of the day were scheduled to take place as normal. From what Kaito could see of various expressions and whispered words, no one felt entirely comfortable. But the misfortune had been to strangers, and as it was an 'accident,' there was nothing to fear so far as most of the guests were concerned.

Li Zihan and Wan Haoran weren't in the dining hall at all. Probably dealing with the fallout of their friends' deaths, and grieving privately. Kaito was never going to get used to seeing the aftermath of murders. Not when he knew what it was like to be alive after someone you loved died terribly. It was probably a good thing that he wasn't comfortable shunting away the emotions this sort of thing brought in him. It meant he still had empathy and hadn't burned out all his faith in humanity. Sometimes he wondered how Edogawa coped…

And speaking of Edogawa… Kaito glanced at the murder magnet and his guardians. Mouri Ran spoke quietly to Edogawa, well-worn stress lines at the edge of her eyes. She was too young to look that tired. The most normal one of all of them and yet she'd had to deal with the fallout just the same as everyone else around Edogawa. The sleeping detective on the other hand looked torn between annoyed and worried for the first part of the announcement, only to settle on resigned. He probably expected this sort of thing by now.

If Kaito ran into a corpse every time he went somewhere, he was sure he'd be a lot more mentally unstable than he was. And Kaito knew he wasn't the paragon of mental stability.

Hopefully the people here could turn Edogawa's luck around a bit, or at least give him a better explanation. But if they were going to reach that point, Edogawa would need to get away from Mouri Ran's side for more than a few moments at a time.

Kaito caught Wei Ying's eyes across the hall before he leaned over toward Ran and started a conversation. Edogawa had better appreciate this.

*O*O*

Conan didn't know how Kid and Wei Ying managed it, but somehow they distracted Ran enough to whisk Conan away. Now, Kid was somewhere alone with Ran, and Conan was in a room off the main medical building being prodded at by someone he was assured was a doctor. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan sat off to one side watching, which was almost as unnerving as the way the doctor's eyebrows had been climbing the whole time.

It had been a normal examination at first. Blood pressure, pulse, check breathing and whatnot. Then the man had pulled out some tool Conan didn't recognize and frowned over it before taking Conan's wrist like he was doing another pulse check.

"Calm down," the doctor said in heavily accented English as Conan fought the urge to snatch his hand away. "I'm only going to check your qi."

"Qi?" As in the supposed life-energy, the stuff that fiction built up as practically magic? "Do I even have that?"

Wei Ying snorted from where he was leaning against his boyfriend. "Everything living has qi."

Then why were they checking his? Conan flinched as something in his hand felt like he'd splashed it with warm water and gotten the pins-and-needles of a limb falling asleep all at once. There was no logical explanation for that. Conan was very out of his depth here.

The doctor let go of his wrist with the hundredth hum he'd given so far, eyebrows still raised like Conan was a lab rat. While it was a familiar enough feeling considering Haibara, Conan didn't like seeing it in a stranger.

The man opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. "What color is this?"

"Blue," Conan said, frowning at the periwinkle-blue slip of paper.

"Shade?"

"Pale? A little purplish? I'm not colorblind."

"Hmm." Another note on his little note pad, all in incomprehensible Chinese script that could be medical shorthand for all Conan could make out of it.

"Astrological sign?"

"How is that even relevant?" Conan asked. Was this person even a doctor? Because Conan would love to see proof of his credentials.

"To check your luck," the doctor replied like that made any sense.

Conan looked at Wei Ying pleadingly.

Wei Ying stifled another laugh before clearing his throat. "So. What's your thoughts so far? Is the kid cursed or not?"

"I would have thought with your…expertise… that you would already have the answer," the doctor said.

It had Lan Zhan sitting impossibly straighter, his lips a tight line of irritation, but Wei Ying didn't seem to care. He shrugged. "Eh. Curses aren't all alike. It didn't feel as resentful as I'd expect."

"That would be because it does not appear to be a curse." The doctor eyed Conan and Conan tucked all his limbs closer just in case the guy wanted to try grabbing his arm again. "So far as I can tell, whatever is happening is a natural effect he was born with."

"Seriously?" Wei Ying frowned. "Because there's nothing normal about anything that happened yesterday and today."

"Perhaps something happened to heighten it, but I cannot find any foreign influence on him. The boy is qi sensitive though." He looked down at Conan. "Do you practice martial discipline?"

Conan looked blankly back.

"Such as a martial art," Lan Zhan cut in helpfully, still giving the doctor a less than pleased glower.

"Oh." He wasn't really a martial artist. "I did a year of karate?" When he was an actual kid, so that probably didn't mean much. "Mostly I just play soccer."

For a moment he got three blank stares as they tried to put an activity to the English word.

Conan sighed. "Football."

"Oh, yeah, where you kick it and can't use your hands," Wei Ying said with a grin. "Cool. Huh, maybe that counts. Do you think a lot when you play?"

"I think through problems juggling a ball?"

"It could maybe count as moving meditation," Wei Ying mused. "Neat."

"Regardless," the doctor cut in, "of how he became sensitive, the natural ability is likely made worse by something. A brush with death can do that."

"And you run into things that could kill you all the time," Wei Ying sighed.

"Oh." That was… huh. Conan could look back on his life and see how the number of incidents increased as the years went on. He'd just thought it was because by being a detective, he noticed and sought out that kind of thing. But… a lot of his cases he just stumbled into. And since becoming Conan… He swallowed, a twisting feeling in his stomach. How many jokes had there been about death magnets? Put into that sort of perspective, no wonder people thought he was cursed.

"But what is it doing?" Conan asked. "Is it attracting death or…" Or was he somehow causing people to kill people just by proximity? The mere thought made him feel sick.

"That is unclear," the doctor said. "You may be heightening emotions, or perhaps changing luck in an area. Or perhaps you are naturally drawn toward places that have the potential for things to happen."

"Hmm, I think there's a boosting factor," Wei Ying chimed in. "Because the ghost was stronger when he got there. But also maybe some factor allowing him to resolve it? Because it let go of its anger a lot faster than it should have at that level of resentment."

Was that better? Or was it worse? "Am I making things happen?" he asked, barely recognizing his own voice. He sounded like a child in truth. A bit lost, a bit frightened, and facing something bigger than he could comprehend.

The people in the room with him exchanged a glance. The doctor cleared his throat. "It is not likely you are a direct cause. But perhaps… the boosted emotions raise chances of crimes of passion. But it is likely more complex and I do not have time to study how."

"Oh." That cold feeling settled in his gut.

"Was there a point when the encounters increased?"

Conan didn't have to think about the answer to that. "If almost dying could make it stronger, I know when." He didn't elaborate. Had Conan been making this…whatever it was… worse every time he shifted to Shinichi and back? Every time he ended up in the hospital, or almost shot, or almost drowned, or blew up, or—?

Conan had a lot of brushes with death.

Shinichi had a lot as well, but they'd never happened as often as they did now. Some he'd chalked up to living with a private detective, but that didn't account for so many other incidents that had happened when he was on a vacation, walking to school, or just living his daily life.

"Is it just going to keep getting worse?" he asked. If there was the slightest chance he was influencing probability or… or… whatever made people decide to commit a crime when he was nearby, he needed to know.

The doctor cleared his throat again. "…Perhaps. The more brushes with death you have, the more likely the case…"

Then the answer was yes. Conan stared down at his tiny, child hands and could see control of his life slipping through these useless fingers. He solved crimes. That was the core of his identity, and yet he could be making them more likely to happen. Did that balance out? He wasn't making these people kill someone; that was their own awful choice. But that he could have any influence on how someone ended up dead…

"You know," Wei Ying said, "Kuroba's going through something similar. Not the whole death thing." He tugged the ends of his ponytail and thumbed his nose uncomfortably. "He has enough qi to attract supernatural things, and the more you run into the supernatural, the more likely you are to run into it again. It leaves an imprint or something."

"And I'm sure he's handling that just fine," Conan grumbled. Kid didn't have the deaths of dozens of people suddenly hanging over him like a gruesome weight.

"It's just that you have strong qi too, and if it's some kind of ability, you should be able to learn how to control it."

"If you told me ghosts were real twenty-four hours ago, I'd have called you crazy," Conan said. "How am I supposed to figure out how to control something that we don't even know what it is or what it's doing?"

Wei Ying shrugged. "Curses could be broken; abilities can be controlled. You should look into controlling your qi." He bit his lip. "I know a bit about how trying to control new things doesn't always go well. But I also know that you can figure it out with practice." Lan Zhan at his side gave a little huff and Wei Ying cracked a smile. "Okay, and some help. I can see if I can find some English or Japanese guides to qi control basics in the library and maybe some stuff on passive abilities and how to control them. You're not the first person in the world to be born with weird crap drawn to them."

Conan processed this, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Knowledge. That was the first step to understanding anything. He needed to know more, then he could go from there. Kid was knee deep in this stuff already. If Kid could learn it, Conan could learn it too. "Could you add in some books about general knowledge on…all of this?" he asked with a wave to encompass the whole room and the…everything… of the last few days.

"I can do that," Wei Ying said.

"We have many books for introductory knowledge," Lan Zhan said. "I can provide a selection for children as well as adults."

Conan nodded slowly. "And you said Kuroba is going through something like this too?"

"Yeah. Though I think his is on the opposite side of the coin, so to speak. He's stupidly lucky," Wei Ying said wrinkling his nose like he was insulted by that.

Conan laughed softly. That sounded like Kid. "Of course he is." Nothing about this trip had gone as he thought it would. It was going to take a while to process all of this. "I'm only here a few more days; is that long enough to learn anything?"

The doctor looked skeptical, but before he could say anything, Wei Ying grinned and leaned forward. "Only one way to find out!"

*O*O*

When the rabbits weren't actively trying to maul him, Kaito found them very relaxing. They weren't quite as nice as his doves—he was biased; hand-raising animals inevitably led to favoritism—but they were soft and quiet, and numerous enough that he had a lapful of bunny within minutes of entering the enclosure.

Mouri Ran was a lot more resistant to their charm. That might in part be because he separated her from her charge. While Kaito was happily covered in snuffling, hopping balls of fluff, Mouri only listlessly passed a hand over the back of a big, fat brown rabbit while shooting glances at the exit every other second.
If Kaito didn't know how much of a trouble magnet Edogawa was, he'd think the worry was overdone. Knowing Edogawa, she probably should worry more; but the whole point of the rabbits was to reduce stress and distract, not make things worse, so he wasn't going to open his mouth about that.

With an absent hum, he lifted a tiny rabbit. It was just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and looked like a ball of fur with ears. He took one of Mouri's hands and placed the rabbit in it. "Here. This one is especially cute."

Mouri blinked at the tiny rabbit and finally cracked a smile. "I didn't know rabbits could be so small. Is it a baby?"

"A dwarf breed," Kaito said, "and not fully grown. It won't get much bigger though."

"It's cute." She cradled it in her palm.

Kaito pulled another rabbit into his lap, increasing the snuggle pile. "I'm guessing this sort of thing happens often?"

"Hmm?"

"People dying," Kaito said as casually as he could. "Most people look more alarmed when they find out that two people got murdered."

Mouri's smile dimmed. "Oh, that…" Her hands slowed their petting. "It does happen a lot. Sometimes it feels almost normal, and that's the most abnormal thing about it… Some part of me keeps being afraid that I'll stop feeling horrified at some point or just stop caring."

"It doesn't look like you've stopped caring. You are still stressed by it. You still looked sad for the friends who survived."

"That's sympathy and empathy, not doing anything about it. That's worry that someone else is going to try and kill me or Conan or my dad again." Mouri looked down. Away. "And that's not really…"

"Caring?" Kaito said. "It sounds more like you're desensitized and expecting to run into death at this point rather than not caring, but I'm not an expert on these things." He scratched his cheek, one hand still buried in bunny fur. "I could recommend one though. An expert." He said it offhandedly, like it was an aside, not something that made him twist uncomfortably inside. The rabbit's ears were very soft and he followed the ridge of them with one finger.

Mouri blinked and looked up at him, searching. "Someone you …see?"

"I know an expert not that I—" Kaito cut himself off. Took a breath. Therapy was a touchy thing. Between stigmatization in popular opinion and vulnerability of admitting it was needed, there were a lot of reasons he'd pretty much never mentioned therapy to anyone.

Here and now though? In the Cloud Recesses, which were a therapeutic location in both modern and traditional means, it felt a little easier to bring it up. People here already believed in the value of therapy.

"It's… Hard. To talk about," he finally said. It was Kaito's turn to stare at bunnies and their little twitching noses and ears instead of looking at the reactions on Mouri's face. "When I was little," he said haltingly, glaringly, terrifyingly open, "my dad died horribly in front of a live audience. I never missed a show if I could help it." The conclusion to be drawn there was obvious. He could hear Mouri's quick inhalation, but he didn't check her face, didn't want to see pity or anything else there.

Kaito let one of the bigger rabbits leave his lap for the more tempting prospect of fresh grass along the edge of the pen. "Anyway." He dredged up a ghost of a smile. "I can vouch that this expert is good with trauma. And kids if that's. Yeah. Anyway, it's an offer."

"I only saw a therapist once," Mouri said quietly after a few moments idly petting her rabbit. "It didn't go well then. But maybe it's time to try again."

Kaito didn't ask why she'd seen someone. He didn't have the right to know if she didn't want to share, and given the fact that she was dragged into so many murders now, he could only imagine she'd run into some well before they became acquaintances. Everyone had trauma, and some people were very good about overcoming it. Others put it in little mental boxes and threw away the key. Still others would never recover.

Mouri was the sort of person who did a little of the first two from what Kaito saw. Move past it, focus on the now and what could be changed and box up the nightmare fuel because it was that or live in a constant state of paranoia.

Kaito handled things similarly. "Well," he said, "if nothing else, you can take advantage of your time here?"

Mouri leveled him an unimpressed look. "Like you have?"

"I'm here for research, not therapy!"

"And I came expecting a relaxing vacation, not confronting my inner demons."

"Fair enough." Kaito lost himself to petting squirming masses of rabbits for a while. The silence was surprisingly relaxed between them, but then they had just shared a moment of emotional vulnerability. That generally made people feel closer, right?

Kaito pictured Aoko across from him instead of Mouri. She'd have understood only too well having briefly seen a counselor when her mother died and her father had been too overwhelmed by grief and work and raising a child to know what to do about a small child emotionally shutting down.

Kaito missed her with a fierceness that made his chest hurt. She'd have loved the rabbits.

"You helped them whisk off Conan-kun to try and get him help too, didn't you," Mouri said after a while.

"Something like that."

"Hmm." Mouri let her rabbit go and watched it rejoin some of the others, something bittersweet and wistful in her absent frown. "I hope it helps. Although." Her frown deepened. "Conan-kun is a minor. He should have an adult with him."

"He tries too hard to not be vulnerable around you," Kaito said. He shooed his rabbits off his lap and they hopped off happily enough toward the food bins.

"Still."

"I'm sure they'll get your permission next time," Kaito said, not sure of this at all. Wei Ying was probably as likely to scoop Edogawa up in some kind of task without thinking of consequences as Edogawa was to get into trouble. "And you can't say he doesn't need therapy. From what I saw, no child should be reacting like that."

Mouri sighed. "I know. I swear we tried to keep him away at first, but he always kept ending up in the thick of things that it was better to just follow so he was less likely to be attacked from behind…"

Kaito… had a lot of conflicting feelings about Edogawa being caught off guard. In part because the kid was a brat that liked to catch others unaware, and also because ninety percent of the people who'd attack him were murderers already. Edogawa deserved to be pranked, but definitely not stabbed or something.

"It's good that you're watching his back then."

"Yeah." Mouri sighed. "…You know…" She tilted her head a speculative gleam coming into her eyes. "We're at a place that doesn't have access to alcohol, cigarettes, or television. And has healthy life guidance. Maybe this is a chance to get my father to clean up his act."

Oh, right, the older Mouri had his issues too. Which was a given because he was knee deep in the deaths alongside Edogawa. It was funny how easy it was to forget about him, but Mouri and Edogawa couldn't exactly travel all the way here alone. Never mind that Kaito was traveling alone; he was a bit of an outlier.

"Is he planning on going to any of the programs?"

"Either he's sulking in our room, or he's tried to break out for a cigarette," Mouri said with a shrug.

"Did he even try to learn more about the deaths?"

"He wasn't hired and it was all handled, so why would he?" Mouri said with a judgmental bite that had Kaito grinning. "Can you help me get him into something that will help him? He's got a smoking, drinking, and gambling problem."

"What a miserable trifecta."

"You have no idea."

Kaito shooed the last of the bunnies off his lap and gave Mouri his full attention. "So. I think there are a few events he could benefit from…"

*O*O*

Conan needed time to think and he wasn't going to get it with Lan Zhan, Wei Ying, Ran, or Kid hanging around him. Mouri Kogoro was who knew where and Ran was going to be annoyed at him, but Conan just needed a minute to breathe and process. He slipped away from Lan Zhan and Wei Ying while Ran was somewhere still talking with Kid—Conan wasn't going to get angry about them getting along. Really. He was going to ignore it because it was low priority compared to his other issues.

There were still more people patrolling than when he first got there, eyes sharp and alert for threats. Wei Ying had assured him that the problem was resolved, but it would probably take a bit for people to stop feeling unsafe after an attack in their own home.

Conan didn't go far. Just far enough away that everything was quiet and a bit off trails. He saw Wan Haoran and Li Zihan in the distance leaving the medical building before he got off path. They looked like shells of people. It was a look he saw on too many faces these days. Hopefully they'd recover from this.

Conan rarely had to watch the grieving process long term so it was hard to say if they would.

There was a nice, flat rock a few meters off trail, surrounded by some kind of feathery ferns, just right for him to fit on. Conan drew his knees to his chest so his toes didn't poke off the rock and let himself feel small.

Ghosts were real. Ghosts could kill. Conan could make them stronger. Conan might be making people more likely to kill just by existing. Conan had solved cases that stumped police and other detectives alike. There was an invisible cosmic scale in his head and Conan placed facts on each side like smooth pebbles, plink-plink-plink, a fragile balance. Making things worse. Making things better. Getting justice for the dead and maybe helping them die in the first place. Not intentionally. Never intentionally. He could soothe himself with that at least.

Cases were fascinating, and he loved the rush of solving them, but even at his most bored, he'd never wish for someone to die to cure that boredom.

No matter what he was born with, he could have made the choice to not solve the deaths that followed him. Conan had instead embraced it and become good at it. If there was any chance of responsibility, he could at least say that he was meeting it. He was doing his best. But Wei Ying and Lan Zhan had a point that if it was an ability, he could probably learn to control it. And he had the responsibility to do so.

Conan breathed out. In. Took in the clean scent of nature and the deep scent of the earth and plants decomposing around him.

There were things he could change. Things he could not. Things he could control, and things he could learn to control. Conan flexed his fingers, remembering the warm, pin-prickle feeling. Here, alone and with only the soft rustle of leaves and small creatures in the leaf mold, Conan could almost feel what they'd tried to describe. The feeling of life flowing in him. The feeling of life around him.

A twig snapped and he smelled the acrid stench of cigarette smoke. Conan turned toward the source.

Mouri Kogoro was barely visible through the ferns.

Ugh.

"You're going to get in trouble for smoking here," Conan said.

Mouri flinched, fumbling the cigarette so it tumbled to the ground. Thankfully the ground was damp and it fizzled and died before the embers could spread.

"Oi, brat, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Mouri groused. He looked around like he expected Ran to pop out next and start scolding him.

Conan huffed, reluctantly amused. At least Mouri was consistent. "You're supposed to be at a class."

"I needed a smoke," Mouri said, eyes finally settling on Conan's spot in the ferns. "And you ruined that."

"Smoking's bad for you," Conan said innocently.

"Let a man have his vices, brat." Mouri fumbled in his clothes for another cigarette. They weren't his usual brand and Conan had no idea how he'd managed to get them when they were up a mountain at a teetotalling resort. "I couldn't even have a smoke this morning with all the people crawling around. I know someone died, but this is overkill. It's already resolved, yeah?"

"Yeah," Conan said, since that was more or less correct. No one else was going to be murdered.

"Hm. Can't even get away from that crap in a different country," Mouri grumbled. "And they didn't call on me, a great detective!"

"It was pretty straightforward," Conan said. He almost wanted to laugh because it had been anything but.

"Whatever." Mouri crossed his arms and went back to puffing on his cigarette. "We should just leave. Not like it's worth being here."

"I want to stay longer."

"You don't get a say, brat."

"Ran-neechan likes it here."

Mouri rolled his eyes. "Of course she does."

Conan stood and stretched. "Maybe you can use the time to catch up on your sleep?"

"Very funny." Mouri sighed. "Ugh. My return ticket isn't until later anyway. Do you think anyone would care if I went down the mountain and stayed in town?"

"Ran-neechan would."

"Ugh." Mouri took another deep breath of smoke before snubbing out his cigarette on a tree trunk. "There better be pretty girls in one of the damn events they have."

Conan hummed. He thought he remembered seeing something about a lot of things being divided by gender, but he wasn't going to tell Mouri that. "…Hey, Mouri-ji-san?"

"What, brat?"

"Does it ever bother you how many people die around you?"

Mouri pinned him with a stare, and Conan was reminded that there was a brain in his head even if Mouri didn't really use it. Conan kept his eyes wide and innocently curious until Mouri huffed and looked away. "Don't you go thinking I'm cursed too. That joke's getting old. Dead people happen. If they have to happen, at least it's happening with a detective around. Inconsiderate of them though. Can't even have a vacation."

Mouri was dismissive, but it actually settled something in Conan a bit.

Mouri gave him another sidelong look. "It bother you, kid?"

"I don't know," Conan said truthfully. He'd never really thought to be upset about it before now. like Mouri said, dead people just happened. And Conan just… dealt with it. Resolved it. Went on with life.

"Don't think too hard on it," Mouri advised. "And tell Ran if you get nightmares or some shit. I don't want to deal with it."

Conan rolled his eyes at the backhanded concern. How Ran's mom thought this man would be a good person to have a child with was baffling. He was awful at parenting. "You'd better go before someone smells that smoke," he said instead of continuing the conversation.

Mouri grunted and hunched his shoulders. "Ugh. Sit in a room alone or go be tortured with meditation crap." His hand shot out and scruffed Conan. "C'mon. I heard Ran telling you not to run off and yet here you are alone."

"I can walk on my own!" Conan protested.

"Sure you can," Mouri said, ignoring his attempt to slip his hold. Ugh. Conan should have just ignored him.

Still, he was a little more centered when they ran into Kid and Ran on their way back from wherever they had been, Mouri shoving Conan toward Ran. She didn't even scold him for running off, so Kid must have said something to explain it all.

Conan couldn't help his circumstances, but maybe, just maybe, he could do something going forward.