Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan.
Oneshot Twelve
The Reaper Has Arrived
"Conan-kun, would you do a favor for me?" Ran poked her head into the office of the detective agency, where her young ward was sprawled out on a couch reading a Sherlock Holmes novel. At her voice Conan looked up, slipping his bookmark into the book and shutting it before setting the novel aside.
"What is it?" he inquired, attention now undivided.
"I have to finish cleaning up here, so could you take this to Takeda-san? He lives a few blocks down." Ran held out a legitimate scythe. At Conan's long gaze at the blade she said, "Don't worry, it's not sharp. It's actually a decoration in his grocery store. Dad took it in one of his drunken states and promised to return it."
The not-child snorted, wondering how Ran – who was blushing with embarrassment for her father – could have turned out even with a father like hers. Then again, she did have to take care of him, so maybe that was it.
Realizing that his childhood friend was waiting for an answer, Conan chirped, "Sure thing! It's the organic grocery store, right?"
"That's the one." Obviously relieved at having one of several tasks lifted off her shoulders, Ran passed the farming implement to Conan with care. While not that large for an adult, the scythe was considerably taller than Conan, who rested it against a shoulder to ease the weight.
"I'll be back soon." The shrunken teen started heading out, only pausing to heed Ran's shout that followed after him to put on some protection against the bad weather. He quickly donned the first suitable garment – a black rain poncho that came down past his knees, hood raised over his head – and left.
"Wow, the weather really is bad. No wonder why Ran foisted this onto me," Conan commented to himself under his breath as he progressed down the street. It was nearly vacant of pedestrians and even cars, people preferring to wait out the deluge in the comfort of their homes. Beats of thunder drummed at frequent intervals, and braving a look up the detective saw light flickering like snakes through the dark clouds that roiled over the city.
He stopped, and placed the scythe vertical to the ground because his shoulder and arms were becoming tired, when he noticed a crowd of people gathered around a single spot on the street. Actually, they were the force from Division One, and he could just make out through their legs a body and a pool of blood.
"Megure-keibu, Takagi-keiji, Sato-keiji!" Conan called out to the three he was closest to. Their attention drawn, they turned to see a scythe-holding hooded figure clad in black. The hairs on the backs of their necks rose, the terror that was creeping up on them becoming spontaneously magnified as a tongue of white lightning lanced down with a jarring peal of thunder, limning the blade of the scythe with an eerie light and illuminating the face under the hood as Conan's.
"I told you! I told you this boy was the Angel of Death!" Inspector Megure shouted, and in a most unprofessional manner he and the rest of the policemen fled the scene, leaving only Conan and the dead person behind.
Conan remained standing there for several moments, an eye and a corner of his lips twitching, before he noticed that he was left alone with the corpse. Seeing that this was a rare chance in which he would not be interrupted, the not-child got to work.
A/N: That ending can be interpreted in more than one way. This idea just leapt into my head and I couldn't help but burst into laughter before having to write it.
. . . and it just started thundering where I live.