Chapter 22
Summer Heat
"Ai-chan!" Ayumi called out to the auburn-haired girl. The children ran ahead towards the field. The blazing sun beating furiously above them. An idyllic scene of white fluffy clouds passing by in an azure sky. Around them, crickets sang the melodies of their last day in the feverish heat of summer.
It has been weeks since the Black Organization was first exposed, and in those weeks, Haibara Ai was released from the hospital. Shinichi stands beside her. Donning a red halter top, she wore a white long-sleeved blouse over it. The sleeves covered the scar on her left wrist. Even though the doctors had stitched it up the best they could, it would leave a mark. Shinichi observed her as she peered up into the endless sky, hand protecting her green eyes from the scorching sun.
The tedium of waiting weighed heavily on both of them. Her past still haunts her. There was no easy resolution to the nightmares, and they surfaced late at night. Not wanting to leave her alone, he had moved into the professor's house. Even though Haibara disapproved of his decision, after days of repeated nagging and pestering from him, she reluctantly conceded. The move marked a step forward in their ambiguous relationship.
What were they?
Friends?
Family?
Partners?
Shinichi couldn't tell.
Haibara had not answered him, and he did not press. She needed time. Ran had recommended it, and spending time with the children would give her a chance to heal. So now, here they are, strolling leisurely through the park at their own pace.
"You alright?" he asked when she lagged behind, offering his hands to her.
"I'm fine, Edogawa-kun."
"Really? You've been walking rather slowly."
"It's hot," she sighed, "the sun is blazing. No one in their right mind would go out for a walk. Except for, well, children and a man-child who forced me out to play soccer in this abhorrent heat."
"Man…child…"
"What are you guys talking about!" Genta appears behind them, holding a couple of packets of ice cream. Grinning widely, he hands one to Shinichi, who accepted it gratefully.
"What's a man-child?" Ayumi peeled away the wrapper and sucked on the ice popsicle she had bought.
"You two better not be plotting something again," Mitsuhiko studies them both with suspicion. "Cause the last time you did, Haibara-san went missing for days."
"I told you she had a cold and was in the hospital," Shinichi snapped.
"We know," they chimed, "We're just messing with you."
"Come on, Ai-chan! We've got something to show you."
With hands raised in surrender, the girl allowed herself to be pulled by the younger girl.
After the news bombardment and arrest of some highly respected politicians, scientists and researchers, the organization was thrown astray. Gin and Vodka had disappeared almost immediately. Vermouth's movies were taken off the shelves. As part of the FBI's efforts to search for them to gain information on the key figures shrouded in mystery, their faces were released to the public.
The public was riveted, learning of unsolved murders, mysteries of burnt houses, and families wiped out. The reports painted a disturbing portrait of terror that penetrated so deep it destroyed the very fabric of peace they lived in. Whether it was torture, human trafficking, assassinations, drug trafficking, or corruption, the black organization had done them all. The crimes were so vast that it took the FBI several weeks to sift out the information and make the connections. A hideout was found after an undercover agent was murdered by Gin.
The incident had happened hours ago. And Haibara was now being dragged through the park by pesky children who had noticed her moodiness. Shinichi burst into laughter when he saw the flower crown on the shrunken scientist's head. The boys chuckled in glee as she folded her arms. Ayumi gave her another, which the girl failed miserably to reject.
"Conan-kun, what are you doing? Get over here. Let's take a picture!" Ayumi shouted, and he was pulled over by the energetic child. With their phones out, they took group selfies as they joked, falling into their usual conversations of parents, school, and friends.
Later, Shinichi sat beside Haibara as the children embarked on their own activities. Sifting through the grass, Ayumi was looking for clovers. Mitsuhiko had joined her, and Genta was running behind them with a net out, trying to catch the butterflies flying about. Haibara observes them, with her chin resting on her knees. A small hesitant smile flirts to her lips. As usual, Shinichi notices it.
Gin was still out there—and Haibara was afraid.
"Nice accessory," he interrupts, motioning to the flower crown in her hair.
"Ara, jealous, Kudou-kun?" she started, and Shinichi frowned when she dumped the other crown Ayumi had made on his head.
Annoyed by her obvious jab, he grabs her hand before she could pull away. With brows raised, her face rested into a stoic half-frown as he intertwined his fingers in hers.
It was hot out, the summer sun blazing, and yet, Haibara's hands were ice cold. She still lacked energy, her eyes sometimes staring listlessly at something he could not see, someone far away.
"Kudou-kun, let me go," she struggled. "The children are-"
Shinichi rests his head on her shoulders, and she stops. Haibara smelled pleasant, like jasmine flowers, her auburn hair swaying effortlessly in the breeze. Under his grip, her hands warmed slightly, and he felt a sense of bliss wash over him.
"Let me stay here for a moment," he whispered.
She sighed, and he waited for her to do what she always does—push him off. But she surprised him. With a somber smile, Haibara leans in instead.
"Will this truly last, Kudou?"
"Haibara?"
And she pushed him back, releasing him.
"Hey—" Shinichi winced when he heard the children screaming.
"What are you doing!" Mitsuhiko shouted,
"Were you holding hands!" Ayumi demanded.
He groaned as the children bombarded him with questions.
Help me. He mouthed to Haibara. The girl shrugged.
Deal with it. Idiot.
She was annoyed. It was evident from the way her eyebrows were furrowed. And the way she walked. A slouched back, hands in the pockets, and lips forming a thin line. The cuffs of her white blouse were a little singed as she festered.
"Come on, Haibara," he tried to placate her and winced when she eyed him with a pointed glare. "Hakase is probably reflecting on what he did."
He shifted awkwardly.
"I'm sure he's thinking about it," she responded. "It's not the first time we've had to do last-minute shopping."
Shinichi paused, running his fingers down the back of his head. Haibara was right. There was nothing he could do to help the old man. The professor had done it again. With one of his many innovative inventions, he burned half of the food in the pantry. In the absence of an extinguisher, Haibara had to use one of her books to put out the fire. The hectic situation, coupled with the professor's nervous laughing, earned him an ear shelling. And now the old man stood pouting in the kitchen he had to scrub clean.
"It's done. We can't undo it now," Shinichi caught up to her, and she let out a long sigh.
"A toddler," she replied. "I have two giant babies to tend to."
"Hey," Shinichi protested, "What did I do?"
"Ara, do you remember when you decided to mix white linen with colored sheets?" Haibara holds out her hand to count with her fingers, "or the time you threw the bills in the trash?"
"That was because I was thinking about a case!"
"Or the time when you handed me sugar instead of salt..."
"They look the same!"
"Or the time you hung laundry...without clips."
"That seems like a small matter, doesn't it?"
Her eyebrows were raised, and he pouted.
"That's unfair, Haibara. I can't do anything about the wind!"
"As I said," she taunted, "To-dd-ler."
"Fine," Shinichi snapped, and she smirked. Since living with her, he had tried to help with some chores, but it would seem that he was more of a nuisance.
Even so, he sometimes felt like she was a little too harsh.
How was he supposed to know that scrubbing a non-stick pan with a metal scrubber would ruin it...or that using four caps of detergent would result in a bubble explosion? He could still recall the disaster that occurred two weeks ago. In order to retrieve their clothing, Haibara had waded through an overflowing washing machine. Shinichi sighed. So maybe...she has a point.
He did struggle with household chores, and all he could do was deal with the consequences.
Opposed to him, however, was Haibara, who knew how to run a household efficiently. Besides cooking and cleaning, she also did laundry with the speed of a seasoned housewife. Shinichi was, of course, impressed. Though, considering the condition of the professor's house since she arrived, it should come as no surprise.
"Where did you learn how to cook? Does the organization offer cooking classes as well?" Shinichi joked.
The hurt vanished as soon as he noticed it, replaced by a twisted smile that revealed nothing.
"Aperol," she replied cryptically.
Italian Wine?
He hesitates as she walks ahead. It was evident that she was trying to share snippets of her past, but it was difficult for her. The girl often failed to form coherent words when asked. Ran had tried, in vain, and Haibara was always apprehensive when Shinichi questioned. However, he did not push. The scar on her wrist was enough of a deterrent.
"Come on, Kudou," Haibara snaps him back to reality. "Or dinner will be served at midnight."
Not wanting to starve, he followed her to the supermarket.
It was raining. Of course, it had to be raining. They ran, their feet splashing in the puddles forming on the concrete ground. Heat from the burning summer sun turns humid and wet. Heavy droplets pelted down and soaked through their clothes. Rain bounced off the blue hydrangeas as they passed the park.
Taking a shortcut, they finally reached the professor's house. It was dark, and the shrunken teenagers stood in the foyer for a moment. Wet and miserable in their clothes as a torrential storm raged outside.
"Well, this is great," he remarked.
"Did someone suggest we bring an umbrella?" Haibara quipped sarcastically.
"Look, I was preoccupied," he protested, and the damp paper bag holding the groceries ripped apart. As the contents spilled on the floor, Haibara sighed.
"Admit it, Kudou," she grumbled, "you're a scatterbrain."
"I am not," Shinichi reached for the light switch with wet hands.
Haibara slaps his hand away from it.
"I rest my case."
"What?"
"Were you not taught how to handle electrical appliances in elementary school?" she asked as if addressing a child.
"It's fine. Most modern light switches are made of plastic."
"I guess you'll be added to the statistic then," Haibara deadpans, "Each year, approximately 200 people are electrocuted at home. That amounts to about four per week. The beauty of modern light switches, am I right?"
Defeated, he raised his hands. "Fine, I get it," Shinichi said before smiling slyly. Spotting this, she frowns in irritation.
"What?"
"Thank you for caring, Haibara," as he bends over to pick up the groceries. Haibara tightened her grip on the paper bag she was holding.
"I wouldn't want the hassle of cleaning up your burnt corpse."
"You know, Haibara," he teased, "A simple 'you're welcome' would suffice."
She hid it well, but the blush in her ears told him otherwise. And for a moment, she looked like she might hit him. Grinning in delight, he chuckled as she shoved the paper bag into his hand.
"Shut up."
Entering the house, they made their way to the kitchen counter. A professor was missing, and the damage caused by the fire was still not cleaned up. Haibara looked like she might explode, and Shinichi could only pity the old man.
"Where's that old fart," she snapped, and he glanced around. It was pitch black. The rain was pouring down. Lightning struck, and thunder roared. If anything—
"The breakers must be down," he concluded. "Hakase is probably fixing it."
A light curse came from the basement, and Haibara sighed. It appears that the 30-year-old house's aging equipment was causing the old man problems again.
"That stubborn old fool," Haibara murmured. With her anger quelled, she started stuffing the groceries into the cabinet. He helped until she sneezed. The water dripping from her hair, coupled with her slight shiver, made Shinichi realize that their clothes were still soaked. He offered to get them towels since he had messed up the laundry this morning—and they had no dry clothes.
Within minutes, he was clutching the towels he had found in the study room. Choosing to give her the one with pink bunnies, he was curious to see what she would do with it. He found her kneeling by of the pantry, still sorting the groceries when he called out to her. Lightning flashed across the room, forming branch-like shadows on the floor, his attention now focused on her back. Translucent white shirt, soaked in rain, exposing bare skin, covered in—
The towels dropped from his hands.
"Are you going to help, or will you just stand there like an idiot?" Haibara asked.
Kneeling, Shinichi reached out unwittingly. She froze when he ran his fingers down her scarred back.
Haibara shoved him back, and they stood apart, breathing heavily—mortified.
"There's," the words left his lips before he could stop himself. "There's so many, Haibara," he repeated.
The surgeons who had operated on her informed him about them. But seeing and hearing about it were two completely different things. The abuse she suffered at the hands of a silver-haired monster seemed more tangible now. Years of torture were evident in the scars on her skin.
"It's not like you didn't know," she whispered.
Shinichi's throat went dry, and he was unable to speak. Pain she failed to hide rose in green eyes, and he realized she regretted wearing that white shirt. "Kudou," Haibara wrapped her arms around herself, "It's nothing."
And Shinichi sees her again in the basement, lying in a pool of scarlet red blood. A metallic stench stains everything it touches, burning through him as he stands there helpless. Nothing? His anger boiled, erupting in his chest, and he marched forward. Pulling up her sleeve, he reveals the long vertical scar on her left wrist. It had been made by cutting through a vein. Making it difficult for doctors to treat the wound.
"What do you want?" Haibara frees her hand from his grip.
"It can't be nothing," he snapped. "You nearly died, Shiho."
Her real name slipped from his lips, and she stumbled back, hands reaching for the counter, which she gripped tightly. She looked like she might run, but he pressed on. Shinichi was unable to let this go.
"Who did this?" he demanded. "Who did this to you?!"
She quivered slightly, lips turning a pale shade of white.
"Were they involved?" he asked, getting louder. "Vermouth? Gin?" he seethes. "Shiho! Tell me the truth!"
"I am not your case, Kudou," she spat out, and he regained his senses.
"What," he stumbled.
It was cold, her words like poison, and she regarded him with the mechanical efficiency of Sherry. He realized then that he had gone too far. Eyes losing her light, blank—a machine. "What they did doesn't matter," Haibara replied adamantly, "I wasn't any different."
"Shiho?"
"What do you want to know?"
Though her tone was neutral, there were cracks forming.
"You have the thumb drive. Everything. What more do you want?"
As she ranted, Haibara backs away. There was a wall between them, unyielding like the glaciers of the north pole, unable to thaw.
"I want to help you," he steps forward.
"And I told you I don't need your help," she snaps. "You've done enough. I'm fine."
"Shiho."
"Monsters," she snarled as a crooked smirk formed on her lips. "The Miyanos were monsters. And I made the choice. I carried on their legacy."
"You catch murderers, Kudou," she continued. "Don't you know," Haibara slumps, "that I am one, too?"
"Shiho—"
"Kudou, I deserve it."
And he could not remain silent. Not anymore.
"Deserve it?" Shinichi marched toward her, but she remained aloof. Her back bumps against the fridge, and he slams his hand down, trapping her.
"Shiho," he seethes, "Nobody deserves this!"
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You're too kind."
Haibara's gaze shifted to the falling rain outside. "I have killed people," she admits, "Nothing can absolve me of that sin. I am not the person you think I am."
It would be difficult, he realized. Difficult for her to truly heal. She still lived with the ghosts of her past, and the guilt she carried was crushing her from within. Haibara was convinced that she was cursed. That she had no right to exist. However, despite all that—
"Nothing can absolve you of your sins," Shinichi whispered, and she paused. "I have no idea what you've done," he continued, "I don't know anything about your past, but—"
He cupped her cheeks. Haibara struggled, as expected, trying to push him away.
Still, he held on. "I know you've suffered."
"Don't be dramatic, Kudou," she grunted.
"What can I say? My mother is an actress. It's genetics."
His lips part slightly as she scoffs, and he releases her for a second. "Yes. You're a girl who teases me, nags me endlessly, lies like no tomorrow, causes me tremendous amounts of stress and is, quite frankly—a pain in the arse. But regardless," he grins, winking at her, "I'm still here, aren't I?"
Stepping back, Haibara regards him with disbelief.
"Shiho, I know it's hard to believe the years of torture you endured may have broken something within you. But, you have to know," Shinichi said emphatically, "that you deserve a chance."
"How can you possibly say that," cracks forming in the ice, the wall crumbling as she looks at him, "Kudou, I'm not clean."
"Shiho," his arms encircled her. "I'm not them."
Tension built before she relented. She leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder. She was wet. It was cold. Yet—
"Idiot," she whispered. "You idiot."
She wasn't inclined to start and, for the most part, was silent. Shinichi draped a towel over her wet hair as he led her to the steps. "I can do it myself, Kudou," she protested as he rubs her hair down, but he held on, and she relents when he chuckled.
He was gentle. His touch emanated warmth, soothing the festering ache throbbing in her chest. Years of locking away her emotions didn't help the situation. The words remained buried. Gin's taunts still lingered. His reign of terror still resides within her, and despite her desire to believe in Shinichi's words, a part of her couldn't let go. You can't. It whispered a toxic, broken entity, always crying in the shadows of her psyche. They would leave. They always do. Bruised and battered, it wanted to drag her back. Furious tears streamed down its cheeks. It was trying—to protect her.
Lie. You can't let them close. They will hurt you. Not like your sister.
And she believed it. The walls, high and solid, weren't built overnight. Gin had taught her that the world was dangerous—that people lied. That humanity was nothing but selfish in nature. That she was no different.
"Shiho," Shinichi had used her name. That damnable appellation. The name that had condemned so many to death. A curse born from monsters who created a drug that ruined so many lives. A family who had caused unimaginable pain to themselves and many others. Experiments, murders—all for a fictitious cure. All for an organization that would bat no eye in taking the lives of innocence just to further their goals.
And yet, he called her again. "Shiho, nobody deserves this."
They were too kind, far too kind. Deep down, Gin's voice echoed, the cruel crushing reality of his words forever haunting her psyche. "It's all a mask, Sherry," He drawled, his ugly laughter resonating. "You're your parents' legacy. Don't you see, we're not very different, you and I." Green eyes emerged from the abyss, and a gentle giant collapsed onto the ground. Two girls running and falling, blood streaming from their backs, spines —broken, eyes blank, burnt black. A blonde-haired lady, wrapped in a blue tarp—sank below the harbor. So many, there were so many. She couldn't clean them off. Nothing would absolve her from her sin.
"I can't tell him," Shinichi's hands rested on the towel he placed over her hair. Shiho couldn't see him, the pink fluffy cloth obstructing her view, but she could hear the gentleness in his voice. "He'll probably leave. I need to protect them. They can't possibly know. It's probably what you're thinking right now, isn't it?"
He was right, of course. He always was. It was almost infuriating how he could read her like this, but—
"Shiho," he lifts the towel, "I won't leave," exuding confidence, he puffs up his chest, thumping a thumb on it for reassurance, wearing that toothy grin that both annoyed and comforted her at the same time. "I am the Heisei Holmes, after all."
It made no sense. It sounded stupid. And yet—
Standing at the reception of a director's funeral. Amongst black suits and white tables. Shinichi stood facing her, his spectacles placed over her eyes. "Did you know?" He states with the same cheeky smile on his lips. "If you wear that, no one will recognize you." She was tempted to reject his ridiculous statement but was stopped by his confidence.
"Besides, even a demon can become an angel, right?"
"Ara, then wouldn't you without glasses be superman?" she had mocked, but his words stuck, dispelling the racing terror that had overwhelmed her before. The dream of Gin—of loved ones killed ebbed away, and all that she saw through the blurry visage behind the glasses was his warm smile.
Eventually, the situation turned sour; she was captured. Pisco had realized her identity. Revealed and confined, she had thought herself dead. As the reality of the situation dawned on her, she resigned herself to it. Though despite all that, he persisted with wit and tenacity. As she lay bleeding from her wounds, he had taken her. And carried her away from Pisco, from a raging fire, from Gin—from the darkness. It was dangerous; he wasn't superman. And yet—
Time and time again, he had been there. No matter what—always trying.
She was unable to hide it anymore. Biting her lip, she grabbed the corner of his wet shirt. Azure eyes—warm and bright, confident, annoying, but safe.
"Shiho," he whispered.
She will tell him.
She wanted to.
Her words came slowly, in fragments. Haibara was trying to remember something that she had forced back into the back of her mind. They were vivid, Shinichi could tell, and painful. Her hold was tight, and he winced when she squeezed.
"There's no need to rush," he whispered. They were sitting by the steps. Their towels hanging from their shoulders. The rain was still pelting down, casting long shadows across the floors. And she spoke once more, sharing snippets of a life lived as Miyano Shiho. Of the entity known as Sherry.
"I was ten."
Memories of a silver-haired man spilled. Abuse, beatings, cigar burns—America. Gin was her handler, "A guardian who was supposed to monitor me. There were others, but he—"
There was a basement in a foreign house. Locked deep in the bellows underneath the earth. And there was a box. She mentioned it being the size of a dog kennel. It was small, and she had been stuffed in it. He had heard of a technique, an interrogation tactic used by the CIA to extract information from terrorists. Stuffed in the box, dark and cold, recordings of a family she had doomed played over and over.
No.
Shinichi couldn't imagine it. It sounded straight out of a movie, and he took in a sharp breath, chest constricting at what she had been forced to endure.
"They called child protective services, and he was enraged," Haibara reported, the details of the unsolved murder emerging. Something he had to tell Jodie-sensei later. If nothing else, the Woods family deserved justice.
"He," she stopped, closing her eyes as a tremor passed.
"He tied them up for days," Haibara continued, "taunting them. He released them when they were weak and unable to fight back."
It was a lot. The silver-haired beast was playing a game with human lives. There was no purpose to his actions, and he seemed to enjoy them. "And he shot them, first the children, then the father, and lastly, Sarah Woods, the woman who tried to help me."
Haibara's voice was hoarse, her hands getting colder, and her eyes took on a glassy look—dissociating.
"Haibara—" he tried to stop her, but she held out a hand.
"Let me finish," she rasped slightly, "I don't think I can do this again."
Shinichi understood. The memories were poison. He couldn't fathom the terror or guilt she must have experienced. Even thinking about it hurt; he couldn't imagine going through what she did.
"He recorded them, their voices replayed over and over...and over, through the sessions," her green eyes hardened, and she swallowed, "I learned, somehow, to cope."
There she was. The woman called Sherry—in emotionless blank eyes, a doll used to dissociate from the horror languished upon her. The girl then proceeded to describe every mission, the beatings that followed, the abuse, and then the box, mechanically and methodically. Reciting it as if it was from a clinical textbook. He realized that she had memorized them—every detail, every instance—every word.
A 13-year-old child, barely out of elementary school, was forced to commit repeated acts of violence. Forced to commit murder. They were training her to be a monster.
She mentioned a Ryuusuke Egawa, a man named Aperol, and a boy called Daniel Solis. They were kind, like the children, like the professor. Haibara was reminded of a sister left behind in Japan and had been content for a moment. A peaceful life they have taken for granted, one she hadn't the chance to experience. And, just like everything else, Gin had appeared once more. The silver-haired man making her choose…a choice that had been ingrained. Aperol gone, Daniel Solis pushed away, she graduated, shipped into her parent's laboratory. Ordered to continue working on a drug that they had left behind.
Haibara recounted experiments, a cold environment withholding the stoic faces and expressions of her colleagues, of organization members, and of missions Gin had taken her to. The prototype she had developed—was used. The victims were claimed to be traitors. They died in agony. Shiho had been forced to watch and discard the bodies. Men, women—all killed.
"There were children," she forced out after a moment of silence. The shadows stretched, the rain muting everything else. Haibara had her knees pulled to her chest as she hugged herself. Fixed in that position, Shinichi knew not to touch her. Green eyes shut tight as she rocks, reliving something that must have terrified her. Muttering incoherent words that Shinichi could barely make out. He watched as she regained her composure.
"There were children in that mansion," she whispered, "Vermouth, Gin, a collective effort. I couldn't save them." His eyes widened at her admission. Of a family massacred, of servants and butlers eradicated. Of children forced to watch their parents die. Of children being gunned down by Gin as they tried to run. Shinichi swallowed, pushing down the shock. He couldn't speak—not after that. Shiho's eyes were dark. He couldn't see the light in them.
"At least," she continued, "they died…together." A dry chuckle escaped her lips, a smirk she carried that looked like it'll break. The hatred ran deep.
For her transgressions, she was punished by a cattle rod with which Gin and Vermouth took turns. Sent back to Japan to work on perfecting the drug, meeting a long-lost sister who she had failed to protect. Akemi—a woman he had failed to save. "I gave up, I gave up trying, and the one time I did—my sister is dead because of me."
Shinichi winced at her statement, going cold as Haibara faced him.
"Kudou, now you know," she was resigned to it, "That I don't deserve it."
It was not like he hadn't known. He had seen it in her nightmares, between the hurt. The torment behind her eyes as the days passed. The guilt and the blood. The pain was deep, like a trench. Haibara might never heal from it.
"You were forced to do unimaginable things," Shinichi started tentatively. She recoils from his touch, but he pushes onward. Haibara needed to know.
"Be honest with her, cool kid." Jodie-sensei had told him. And he would be. He had told her not to run. Shinichi carried that responsibility.
"I had the choice—to stop," Haibara muttered.
"What were your options?"
She hesitates, and he continues, inching slowly toward her. "Were you really given a choice?"
She knew the answer. But, she could not admit it. Not when she felt like she was tainted, not when she thought herself—a killer.
"You're not a murderer," Shinichi insisted, and Haibara tensed. She did not believe him; he could see it in her wavering eyes. "It's true your creation killed...but you never wanted anyone to die. Even now, you are haunted by the memories of the people you could not save. Those are feelings of empathy, Shiho. A killer wouldn't be able to feel anything else."
"I'm not that heroic," she spat, "I didn't stop it. I'm not a good person, Kudou."
"Nobody is," he smirked, "we are all human, aren't we?"
With lips parted, Haibara stared incredulously at him.
"We are not defined by what we did," Shinichi whispered, "but by what we do now."
Haibara reacted the way he knew she would. Snorting slightly with raised eyebrows. She turns away from him, lips twisted into an ugly grin, hands wrapped tightly around her knees pressed hard against her chest. "I don't need a lesson in Philosophy," she murmured. "It's not that simple. It doesn't fix anything."
"It doesn't," he continued, "But it's a start."
"You—"
"Didn't I tell you," he faced her, "Not to run from your fate."
"I cannot pretend to comprehend what you're experiencing. As a child, you were subjected to circumstances beyond your control. While you may deny it, you were only doing the best you could."
He gave her a sad smile as she retreats from him. "You have to live, Shiho."
Haibara was struggling. She couldn't see it.
Locked in a basement, tortured, and abused, forced to watch as people died, made to create a drug she wanted no part in. Blackmailed and raped by a silver-haired beast, despite it all, she was alive—broken but...still trying.
"You're here, aren't you?" he whispered gently, "You took the pill. You shrank, ran, and now, you're here."
"Kudou- "
"Despite everything you went through, you found me. You made a choice, didn't you?"
"I took the drug intending to die," Haibara snapped, annoyed that he wasn't letting her go, "I'm not that noble."
She was—an idiot.
"You say that, but you kept it," Shinichi continued, "You kept that thumb drive. You hid it from Gin. You brought it back and hid it in your apartment."
"That-"
"If you thought it was pointless, why would you try?"
Scoffing, Haibara retreats from him, but Shinichi presses on. "You might not realize it," he told her, admiring the girl's strength. "You've already made a choice. From the very start, you always had."
"It doesn't matter."
"But it does," Shinichi countered, "you call yourself a killer, a monster, a mad scientist. But despite everything, you've always been willing to protect us. To do what's right. You've made the only choice that counts. It's the only thing that matters, Shiho. You're not Sherry. You never were."
Haibara gawks at him, and he chuckled. Pulling her forward, she leans against his chest. "You don't have to do this alone," Shinichi mutters. "It might be difficult, but I told you, didn't I—"
"I will always protect you."
It was a quiet confession, one that echoed through the darkness. Silence ensued as the rain ebbed into a light drizzle. Gray clouds parted, the sun peeked through, and golden light reflected on the marbled floors. Emerald-green eyes met his. The air shifted. Something had changed.
"Kudou," she started, quivering slightly. "I can't...this feeling, I can't..."
Shinichi released her, studying her carefully.
"Like I'm tainted from within, no matter how much I wash. It's beneath my skin, this curse. I can still feel him on me."
Haibara was talking about it. Revealing the hurt Gin had inflicted on her for the first time.
"Shiho?"
"I'm not strong enough," she admits, face buried in her hands.
Haibara was trembling.
"It still hurts. I don't know when this darkness will leave," she confessed, "Sometimes I feel like dying. I still do."
"I know," Shinichi reached out, prying her hands away from her face.
"Even after all that, after all that you've heard, why are you still here," Haibara whispered, and he pulls her close.
"I will never leave," Shinichi smiled, "When will it register in that thick skull of yours?"
He chuckled when he was met with a scowl.
"I will try to remember it, idiot," Haibara relented, sinking into his embrace. Face buried in his chest, Shinichi could feel tears soaking into his shirt, and he held onto her, whispering comfort as time passed.
The professor finds them later, seated by the kitchen counter. He was covered in black soot, and his spectacles cracked from what he called a minor accident. Haibara nags at the old man, bringing out the first aid as Shinichi prepares the coffee.
They talked about the mundane, about school, the children, the weather—Haibara coming close. Eventually, she rests against him, head on his shoulder, eyes shut, sleeping soundly. The professor noticed it. Fatherly instincts kicked in, and he stood with hands on his hips, glaring at Shinichi.
"What happened?" the professor regards their wrinkled wet clothes.
"It's nothing, Hakase."
Running his fingers down her cheeks, Haibara sniffled, and his resolve deepened.
The hurt still lingered; it might take her a lifetime to heal from Gin, but—
She was still here.
That was all that mattered.
"Stop hiding," she snapped at Jodie-san, the FBI agent coming over to discuss Shinichi's plans. They talked secretly, and she grew increasingly irate.
"Haibara—"
"I can take it, Kudou, so stop this!"
"It's not that," Jodie's gaze soften in response. "It's Gin."
And with that, Shiho went cold once more. She hated herself for being this way. A fear that she was growing sick of, inescapable. Despite her desire to scream and run, Shinichi reached for her, taking her hands in his. Pulling her close and hugging her. The scent of his body calmed her slightly. Logic and reason…she had to detach herself. She couldn't lose herself again. Not like what she did with the scalpel. In his embrace, she sighed deeply. The FBI could use her help. After all, if Gin could read her…she could too. The man, the beast, Shiho, could see the cunning in his eyes. He was clearly luring them into a trap, warning them of the transgressions they would face if they got too close.
The FBI has underestimated them. Both Gin and Vermouth were dangerous. Rum too. Stopping them would be difficult but not impossible. They would not surrender without a fight unless the other is dead. "Facing them with guns blazing would spell certain death," Shiho said, releasing herself from Shinichi. Her mind immediately went back to the mannerisms of the members she feared. The members were cold, logical, and operated in an extremely cautious way. There was no way they would wait for the FBI to arrest them.
"Vermouth is a professional assassin, and Rum is a bomb expert," she recalled, "just as Gin is an excellent shot. They would not come easily, and the best course of action is to call them out," Shiho advised.
"And how do you propose we do that?"
Shiho glanced at Shinichi and Jodie with a wry smirk on her lips. Her long-kept sin spills from her lips. The boy and woman gasped at the revelation.
"But that would mean," Jodie said, the consequences were made all too clear.
"Haibara, are you sure?"
"Yes, the drug was specifically designed to control the world," Shiho concluded. "Imagine a powerful weapon that would be able to target anyone, anywhere, at any time. All you need is to encapsulate the weapon in a miracle drug..."
"Miracle drug?"
"Market it as a drug that can cure any disease, and you won't see the end of the greedy rich who would buy it," she explained. "Put a weapon into that substance, and you will be able to control the most powerful people in the world."
"By threatening their lives," Shinichi's eyes widened, "Then what Itakura-san was working on—"
"A quantum weapon," Shiho confirmed.
"How long have you known," Shinichi whispered, and she shrugged.
"I had my suspicions. The boss doesn't provide many clues."
"So, if we lure them out with the pretense that we have the completed drug, and we negotiate according to our terms," Jodie asked, and Haibara nodded.
"Negotiating would be the best outcome, but that is unlikely."
"They would attack at the source, and we would need to be prepared. So we would lure them to a place where it will be advantageous for us." Shinichi smirked. Shiho recognized that look and was slightly comforted by it.
He had a plan, and if they followed through, everything would be fine.
When did I start thinking like this?
She trusted him—completely. That was her answer. The talk they had a few days ago on a rainy day returned to her mind. He had remained by her side despite all of that. His warmth emanated from within, his smiles freely given. It was always him, keeping his word, protecting her over and over again. To be around him, to be with them, felt safe. Maybe, just maybe—
I could face Gin.
Her scars ran deep, and even now, it still hurts deeply when she thinks about them. But for some reason, she wanted Shinichi to know. As her desire deepened, Shiho walked over to the boy who was still talking to Jodie. Shinichi was stunned when she slipped her hands into his, holding them tightly. Jodie pauses and looks at both of them, first with a shocked expression and then a knowing look.
"There's something you need to know."
Parents. Drugs. Organization. Creations—her sin.
"We can both be the God and the Devil," Shiho whispered, "Since we're trying to raise the dead against the stream of time."
Shinichi stumbled back, and Jodie-san cupped her hands over her mouth.
It's true purpose.
"Two kinds," Shiho revealed, spilling her secrets to the boy she trusted. "APTX 4869, wasn't the only drug I worked on."
Episodes used:
Episodes 176-178
Episodes 311 :D
This chapter was re-written 20 times. I hope you've enjoyed it. The Black Organization appears now, shadows hidden behind. I have taken some liberties with the organization, and it is different from what Gosho Aoyama had planned. I hope I don't butcher it (my respect for him is immense, coming up with mysteries every chapter is really difficult). I do hope that you enjoy the chapter :D Thank you all for the reviews and feedback. It's greatly appreciated.