Chapter 26
Bait
In the back streets of Otaru's canals, the small, unassuming studio bustled with activity. After being brought here a few hours ago, Shiho sits alone in a dressing room. It was dark, musty, and had not been used for a long time. Several old props stood by the sides as a single naked bulb swung in the air. The room was heated by an old-fashioned broiler, which burned coals—glowing red embers. Steam was hissing quietly from an iron kettle as it bubbled on top.
Shiho catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her former self stares back at her. Strawberry blonde hair, green emerald eyes, mature in appearance—aloof like a doll. Dressed in the same red dress, she wore when she first escaped and a tattered lab coat that Ran had repaired, she was, once again, a teenager. After masquerading as a child for so long, she could barely recognize herself.
"Is this your natural hair color?" The makeup artists had asked an hour ago.
"Yes," Shiho answered as the woman combed through it.
"You have pretty hair," she gushed unwittingly—a harmless remark that left Shiho reeling.
It wasn't her fault. There was no way the woman could have known. Shiho shouldn't be affected by it. Yet when the makeup artist left, she couldn't help but feel—
Cold.
"There you are," Shinichi emerges from the corridor. It took her a moment to adjust to his appearance. Much taller than he was as a child. Possessing boyish good looks and bursting with charming confidence, he faced her with a grin. Azure blue eyes holding a certain maturity. He was—different.
"Shiho," he greeted her, his voice deeper than usual.
Approaching her, he paused. Shiho noted his surprise as she stood slowly. They studied each other, not used to their adult appearances.
"Y...you're...pretty tall," he stuttered, visibly flustered.
"And you're pretty short," she retorted. Narrowing his gaze, the teenager folded his arms in disdain, retaining the same expression of Edogawa Conan. The familiarity of his reaction eased the awkwardness between them.
"I would like to inform you," he replied, "that it is you who is exceptionally tall. I am of normal height!"
"For an Asian, that is," she mused, and he protested. Shiho notices his usual cowlick neatly tucked into his scalp.
"Looking like a helmet."
Rolling his eyes, he pouted. The man-child was surprisingly vain when it came to his hair.
"It doesn't matter. I made some of the female staff members swoon," he responded.
"Bad taste?" she chuckled as he frowned.
"We will be meeting with the scientists soon."
Drawing closely, his hand rested against his shoulder. His touch—soothed the fear brought on by a mission she wasn't sure she was ready for.
"A panel of researchers to verify our authenticity, am I right?" Shiho repeated the brief overview Akai had provided two weeks ago. Shinichi nodded. "Yes, and all we need to do is convince them that the drug is the real deal," he confirmed. Reaching into her pockets, Shiho circled the bait with her fingers.
"Then we wait," she whispered.
"Yes," he replied. "Are you ready?" he flashed one of his annoying grins.
Inhaling deeply, she braced herself.
"Let's do this."
Shinichi was unable to concentrate. Not after Akai and Jodie told him the details of what had happened in the morning. The information presented was straight from a nightmare. "We've got it under control," Akai said, his calm appearance belying the messy hair and haggard appearance that accompanied his words. "They're looking for her. The advertisements must have sparked a national manhunt."
Obviously, they had expected it. The media advertisements of Shiho were bound to attract the attention of the black organization. However, the extent to which they were willing to go was somewhat frightening.
"There's been a small private studio eradicated in Kyoto," Jodie informed them, her lips set in a grim line. "Four staff members were killed. And a young woman bearing a similar appearance to Shiho was kidnapped and killed after they realized she wasn't the target."
They were searching for her, and they spared no one. The organization worked efficiently with no sense of pity or remorse.
"Have they been caught?" Shinichi inquired.
"Low-ranking members," Jodie confirmed, "were arrested by the Japanese Police task force, but—"
"They killed themselves," Akai concluded, "more afraid of the repercussions than death itself."
"A senseless waste of lives," Jodie muttered.
"There is nothing we can do about that," Akai interrupts as the man smokes another round of cigars, his voice hidden by smoke fumes—a plan is brewing. "Mulling over what has transpired would not benefit anyone. We have a situation, and we will resolve it."
"The mission still stands."
"Figures," Jodie grumbled, punching orders into her phone as she walked away. As Shinichi contemplated the sudden change, Akai grabbed his shoulders tightly.
"About the other matter," Akai muttered. "She cannot know," his expression—indescribable. "Not yet."
Shinichi gulped before nodding in agreement. The girl was already stressed enough. There was no need to subject her to this.
"Don't worry," the FBI agent reassured him, "we've got this."
Thus with preparations underway, Shinichi was once again unable to focus. The cause of his churning emotions was that of a teenage woman.
Soft, womanly curves. Long, flawless legs distracted him from the task at hand. As if that wasn't enough, the red dress she was wearing hugged her petite body, accentuating her figure quite nicely. It made it hard to concentrate. Taking a side glance at the auburn-haired scientist, Shinichi swallowed. His teenage hormones running amok ever since he returned to his original state.
When Akai coughed beside him, he was brought back to reality. Jodie-sensei passed him a mischievous glance. Caught by the two FBI agents, he gave an awkward sniff as he adjusted his tie.
Dammit.
They were now sitting in a break room. A relatively confined area—they sat uncomfortably close to their guests, who sat opposite a long table. Above, a fluorescent light shines brightly, casting dark shadows across the dreary, cracked walls. It was not an ideal place for discussions—but it will do.
The guest was part of the mission. Requested by the FBI a few months ago, they consisted of scientists, professors, and significant individuals. The segment needed to be believable, and professionals were needed to quantify the efficacy of the drug. Several were contacted, but few wanted to be a part of the operation. Shinichi understands. After all, participating in such an event might ultimately put their lives at risk. Exposing your face on live national television to the black organization was not the smartest move.
It was no surprise then that out of the hundreds invited—only three replied. Whether it was bravery or stupidity, Shinichi could not tell. Regardless, they were needed, and their lives now hang in the balance. Lives that the FBI and PSB agents have sworn to safeguard.
"We won't talk about anything related to this mission after it's over," Jodie-sensei read the contract to the trio. The FBI went through it again, so their guest would have the opportunity to reconsider their decision.
"This is a classified operation that will endanger your lives," Akai continued.
"Is it necessary to go over the terms again?" The question was posed by a round-faced man. A little on the heavy side. The brown suit Moroshi Habuki wore was too tight for him. As he shifted uncomfortably in it, he fidgeted, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. Balding, he wore copper spectacles and had shaved his gray unkempt mustache in an attempt to look presentable.
"We must," Jodie giving the impatient man a tight-lipped smile. He sighed, sinking into the chair as it creaked loudly.
The 70-year-old biochemist was one of the deans of Tokyo University. A famous academic, he had discovered a mysterious component that led to the development of various heart disease medicines. As sloppy as he may appear, his reputation precedes him. And here he was, seated disgruntled, waiting to see the miracle drug they had promised to show him.
Moroshi-san studied Shiho with sparkling eyes, the excitement brimming brightly in his giant smile. He was impatient—eager for the show to begin. Arriving two hours early, he had annoyed not only the FBI agents but the studio staff members with his antics.
"Signing this contract would bind you to the FBI witness program," Jodie warned the dean.
"I am not concerned with it," waving her away to face Shiho. "How about we skip all these formalities and get down to business."
"Moroshi-san, your thirst for knowledge never ceases to amaze me," a man interjects. He was much older than the others. Shinichi recognized him from the television shows he viewed as a child. Kano Miura a renowned surgeon and professor—sat with stern countenance. An eccentric genius, the eighty-three-year-old was one of the first to successfully separate conjoined twins during adulthood. The contributions he made to medicine and surgery were notable. A rather sullen-looking man, he viewed them with an expression of disdain and skepticism. His shoulder-length hair was tied into a ponytail, and he held a cane in his left hand. Dressed in a traditional hakama, he looked like a samurai prepared for war.
"And so does your unsightly appearance," Kano Miura continued. Moroshi stiffened at the old man's glare, gray eyes carrying a stern sharpness that would have rendered most people speechless.
"It's been two hours," the chubby dean protested but went quiet when Kano-san eyed him with a glare. Sighing heavily, Moroshi-san slumped against his seat.
"You were saying?" Kano-san prompted Jodie to continue.
"This is a dangerous endeavor, and the risk involves death. If you accept this, your identities will be changed, and you will be protected by the FBI. Your families would naturally be treated similarly. Therefore, returning to your previous lives would not be possible until the organization is dismantled."
"And if I were to refuse?" Kano inquired.
"Then you would not be permitted to participate."
Contemplating for a moment, the old man nodded. Before regarding Shiho with a sour expression fitting of his infamous nickname—the "Scrooge." A miserable miser from the famous Christmas carol. "It better be worth it," he said finally, taking the pen and signing over the line. Moroshi-san follows suit.
"What is going to happen after this mission?" the last man asked.
Although he was younger than the other two, he held just as much prestige. Speaking with a slight accent, his Japanese was not quite good. The man's attention focused on the contract. With whitish-blonde hair and bearing a kind, youthful face, despite the faint wrinkles, Kelly James Miller was a 65-year-old physician who arrived a week ago. His shows and books covering various health topics made him famous back in America. He was also insanely popular in Japan, where he hosted a medical show three years earlier.
His circumstances were also peculiar.
Several years ago, his brother was involved in an unsolved case. It was likely the reason he so readily volunteered to assist.
"Would we have a chance?" Kelly added.
"Certainly," replied Akai, "we only require an opening, and we are closer than we ever could be."
"It is the ideal time to strike," Shinichi declares, glancing at the American. He was the last to arrive. With snow covering his blonde hair, Kelly James Miller apologized for being late. "My phone wasn't working, and I overslept," he replied sheepishly. Having settled later, he looks over the contract for the hundredth time, the man taking longer to make a decision. Pondering over the implications, Kelly was still hesitant.
"What if the organization fails to respond to this?"
"They won't," Shiho pulls the case from her pocket and opens it. In it was the prototype bait she'd been working on. The poison she'd described to Shinichi. The incomplete detective APTX 4869.
"Two drugs?" he asked when she revealed it.
"Yes," she replied, trembling slightly under the weight of her words. "One part cure, one part miracle, and another—"
Shiho's revelation sparked his search into her parents' past—all those days of delving into Miyano's research still not providing the answers he desired. But in it, a disturbing, almost unfathomable truth.
"A curse."
Speculations and theories all pointed toward a single answer, but he could not grasp it. Although he knew who murdered them, the reason for their deaths eluded him.
"A miracle cure. An experiment in the works for half a century," Shiho holds the capsule between her fingers. Looking like he might leap over the tables to grab it, Moroshi glanced at it in awe.
"It still needs to be tested," Kano remained skeptical.
Shiho shrugged, putting the tablet away, much to Moroshi's disappointment.
"Indeed," Kelly replied. Making up his mind, he signed the contract, his blue eyes focusing on the drug. For a moment, Shinichi catches the anger. Under the amiable demur he displayed, it festered.
"That same experiment probably poisoned my brother."
Shiho flinched as a bitter smile formed on her lips. And Shinichi noticed it—regret, guilt, and remorse etched in her features.
"Whatever the case may be," Kelly slipped the contract to them, "I hope the operation succeeds."
Having secured the signatures, Shinichi breathed a sigh of relief. The less superior backup would not be necessary now, and the mission could proceed as planned.
"It's starting in an hour," Jodie said as she gathered the contract. "So we'll need to get you ready."
She led them out of the room, briefing them on their mission, as Akai followed suit.
"I'll give you a little space," the FBI agent said before leaving. His gaze lingered on Shiho, and his subtle intentions were understood.
The girl sat rigidly with her hands intertwined. Harboring a deep hatred for her creation. The look on her face was all too familiar, and he embraces her as soon as they cleared the room.
"What—"
"Shiho," releasing her slowly, he cups her cheeks, "Talk to me."
It wasn't Shiho's first time facing a panel. Professionals hired by the organization were often there by the laboratories testing her. They were patents, funding the drug she worked on.
And it brought about rumors; she knew of them. The nicknames—given. The judgments and stares—she was young and the subject of mainly jealousy and rumors.
Conversations with the three scientists brought back memories of a frigid, unrelenting environment. Her treatment varied from contempt to morbid curiosity to fear as she moved from place to place.
"What is there to say, Shinichi," she muttered after some time, "I have created poison, and I did not even consider the consequences."
"Shiho," he whispered, "this had to be done. Nobody would abuse it."
The bait had been easy to synthesize. Using notes from her parents, she completed the formula. In spite of her vow not to make the drug again, she had been able to produce it so effortlessly. It was necessary—still, she found it difficult.
The drug. Her poison. Her sin. Misused, tested, experimented. Kelly's brother—one of its many victims.
They could not be saved. They were not rendered justice.
She remained a monster in their midst.
"It doesn't change the fact," Shiho pushed him back, "My creation," covering her eyes with her hands, she bites her lip, drawing blood, "Killed."
Shinichi was silent. Deep down, they knew that it was the truth. Her creation had killed. Her actions were too horrific, too bleak to comprehend. The blood would never be erased, regardless of what she did. While he told her to forgive herself, it proved harder than anticipated. Days were still spent wallowing in remorse, and the specter of her mistakes still haunted her.
"How many times must I tell you," Shinichi peels her hands from her eyes. "That you are no longer alone."
He pulls her towards him, and she lands in his chest. "If it gets too difficult," arms wrapping around her body, "If the burden becomes too much," he squeezes tightly, "share it with me."
"But—"
"Do you plan to do it again?"
She paused.
"If I offered you the opportunity to create something similar? Would you do it again?"
"Never again," the answer escaped her lips effortlessly.
Gently Shinichi cupped her cheeks, tucking a stray hair behind her ears.
"It's not the drug that kills," he affirms, "You don't represent them, Shiho."
She scoffed slightly before pressing her face against his chest—drawing closer to the detective.
"Why are you so nice to me?" she muttered.
"Are you an idiot?" he frowned.
It would take a long time. Sometimes old wounds open too fast and too hard, but—
"You could have anybody else."
"I supposed I could," he teased.
"If they could get past the ridiculous hairdo," she mocked as he narrowed his eyes.
"As I said, the ladies were fawning over me."
"And what did I say about bad taste?"
"Shiho," he whispered, leaning in as their foreheads touched.
He has long eyelashes. She never noticed them before. Desire buried deep within erupts. His body was lean and warm, his scent—not smoke, not ash—not him.
"Shiho," he whispered breathlessly. Hands gently caressed her cheeks—heat emanating from his touch. Azure eyes, clear and bright—burning from within.
He was close— much too close, but for some reason—It didn't…hurt.
Arms coiled instinctively around his waist; she drew closer.
Electricity fizzled between them, racing down her body. Blue eyes met green. Their breaths mixing—heating up the cold air.
What were they...
Lips brushed tentatively.
"Ai-chan," a voice interrupts, and Shinichi was on the floor. Ran strolled in with the professor bearing gifts. Catching them in that position, she eyed them suspiciously.
"What are you doing?" she asked as the professor set down some snacks they had purchased. Shiho gathered herself. She adjusted her coat as Shinichi stood with a scowl, still flushing furiously from the experience.
"Ran, I thought I told you to stay put. It's not safe out there," Shinichi sighed. The girl grimaced at his statement before pulling a couple of croquettes from her pockets. "It's your favorite! Pumpkin!" Giving one to Shiho.
The girl's smile was infectious, and Shiho felt the nerves she carried all day residing slightly. Behind her, the professor rested a hand on her shoulder. "Shinichi, it's okay. I was with her."
"That does not make me feel any better," Shinichi chided.
"Anyway, nothing happened, so it's fine," the professor protested. Shiho spotted the speck of cream on his cheeks, and she couldn't help but smile. Trust the professor to binge a bit while he was unsupervised. Ran must have spoiled him. She would nag at him later, but—
Heart still beating rapidly from the experience before, Shiho glanced at them.
Of Ran, of the professor—of a boy who remained despite everything.
And for a moment, she forgets the cold-hearted stares, the judgments, the insults, the label cast upon her. She reached for the locket, one gifted to her by Shinichi. Holding it firmly, she closes her eyes.
"You ready, Shiho?" Shinichi takes her hands, his touch warming them up.
"I'm always ready, Kudou," she said, and he smiled.
"Idiot," he whispered, "Don't push yourself."
His words were enough, and she held on tightly to his hands, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Don't run away from your fate, Haibara. Don't run from it."
"The program is going to start in five minutes!" the director shouted; Shinichi released her. The warmth he had left still lingered.
"Do your best, Ai-chan," Ran encouraged her.
"We'll be here," the professor assured her.
"It'll be alright," Shinichi smiled.
Taking a deep breath, Shiho braced for what was to come. There was still darkness, loitering in every step she took. The scars on her back, phantom pain that would not leave. The fear still making it hard to move forward, but—
Shiho had to do this.
It was time to face her fate. She'll end then—if it's the last thing she does.
"Onee-chan," she whispered. "Protect us."
Finding the courage, she takes a step into the spotlight.
She was a natural, Shinichi noted. Standing straight with practiced ease, Shiho glanced at the host introducing the segment to the audience behind the screens. Cameras and stage lights were pointed at her, highlighting the characters at play. Three famous, well-known doctors, scientists, professors, and an unknown enigmatic player.
"For today's special, we have an exceptional guest," the host started. An attractive woman with shoulder-length black hair, she wore a simple dress suit with fringe pinned back by clips. Donning rectangular glasses, Sango Ogawa was the show's host. She was a persona created for Anne Kinoshita, an FBI agent.
The woman acted her role with professionalism. Jumping between topics energetically, she played a talk-show host with enthusiasm—creating hype for the upcoming topic.
"Would Ai-chan be ok?" Ran asked. Catered to the in-house audience, they watched from a platform above. His childhood friend was worried for the girl and was adamant about participating in the mission. "I will hide in the car booth if I have to, Shinichi, don't leave me out of this," Ran protested when he asked her to remain behind. She was now a ball of restless energy. Her nervousness—infecting him as well. And he eyes her with disdain. Shinichi having to try twice as hard to remain objective.
The operation was proceeding smoothly for now. But—they could not let their guard down.
Knowing the organization—knowing Vermouth, situations could go awry at any moment.
Shiho was never supposed to be involved. Shinichi demanded that he'd be the one to present the drug on national television himself. His plan, though, was shot down. Akai remarks on the stupidity of such an action. He was supposed to be dead. He was famous. The organization likely knew where he lived. And with those reasons in mind, he was ordered to remain in the shadows.
Shinichi, Akai declares, was the wild card that had to be kept hidden.
The plan then shifts to Shiho, who, rather foolishly, volunteered herself. Akai accepted her proposal after much consideration.
When Shinichi had argued with him over it, the agent simply explained. A remote specter without a home or a past. Her location couldn't be pinpointed. For the black organization, Sherry was like a fluttering ghost. Ultimately, it would work to their advantage.
It made sense, and Shinichi had no choice but to give in.
That didn't mean he was fine with it, though.
Scowling, Shinichi tapped his fingers across his folded arms with disgruntled displeasure.
"Relax," Jodie-sensei reassures his childhood friend, "She'll be fine."
"Yes, but...Ai-chan is..." she muttered, studying the woman below. Ran's concern was palatable.
Sherry. The woman holding out the drug was not Shiho—but Sherry. Detached, repressed, and stoic in nature, the scientist presented the bait with cold efficiency. She spoke mechanically, her tones biting, without warmth. Like a robot. A doll. He did not like it, he wasn't happy with it—but he understood it.
"It's a coping mechanism," Shinichi explains the girl's reticent demur to his childhood friend. "It's her only way," he grimaced, "To detach."
"Oh," was Ran's only answer. The girl's gaze softens, and she regards the information with a sad smile. "I guess...some hot chocolate is in order, right?"
She was, as usual, perceptive. Understanding and extremely kind. Caring more about others than herself. Considerate to a fault. "Yes," Shinichi smirks, turning back to the live broadcast, "Hot chocolate, it is."
"Immortality," Sango started, hands clapping together. The woman sauntered over to Shiho. "Since the dawn of time, humans have been fascinated by this subject. After all, having the power to achieve eternal youth sounds like an almost impossible dream. From the tales of Chang Er to the story of Sir Galahad and the Wandering Jew, myths have been passed from one culture to another seeking the elixir of health, of everlasting life."
Sango gestured to Shiho, "For years, scientists and doctors have been searching for this miracle, the holy grail of all medicine. Imagine a drug so powerful, so potent that it can cure anything, even, I might dare say, cancer. Or best yet, prolong your life."
Sango lifted the pill Shiho had given her minutes before. As the cameras zoomed in on the unassuming tablet, the woman showed it to the cameras.
"This here is the drug APTX 4869. And it might change the fabric of society. The work of a young prodigy, Satsuki Fujita. She is joined by our lovely guests, professor Moroshi Habuki, Kano Miura, and Kelly James Miller."
Amid Sango's introductions, Shinichi glanced at his phone. Social media pages were already flooded with reactions to the news segment. "They're talking about it," Ran muttered, showing Shinichi a blown-up image of Shiho on a media website. There were discussions taking place, and the segment was gaining views with each passing minute.
"A miracle drug, you say?" Kano asked. Having finished the formalities, the show was moving to the next part. A demonstration of sorts. One that had Moroshi Habuki sitting by the edge of his seat.
"Tell me, Fujita-san," his cynicism evident. The old man not believing in the claims. It was no fault of his own. The idea that a drug can alleviate all illnesses seems too fictitious to be true.
"How is your creation any different from the rubbish presented by other aspiring scientists? I have seen many of your kind claiming that they could cure cancer. That their creation would revolutionize the scientific world. That it could assist in solving fundamental issues. But what makes it unique?"
"Yes, Fujita-san?" Sango added on. "Is it really going to change the foundations of medicine? Or is this another fluke?"
With a sharp gaze, Shiho regards the old man. Cool, icy in nature, withholding no emotions. Shinichi was reminded of the first time they had met.
"It is not a miracle drug," Shiho scoffed as she walked over to the table between the professors and scientists. Lifting the cloth covering a cage, she revealed to the panel— four rats.
"It is simply medicine," she continued, "I won't declare it a miracle. There are some things in the world that can't be solved. Humans were never meant to play God."
"But—"
Shiho pops the cage open, coaxing the rats out. They were clearly feeble, sauntering slowly, beady eyes carrying a cloudish bland look. They were also covered in big ugly warts. Foaming from their mouths, Shinichi realized that they were blind. Bumping into each other, they did not react to the cheese Shiho had placed in front of them.
"The rats here are five years old and have lived longer than any of their peers. Besides surviving various heart attacks, they also have a form of cancer called Zymbal's gland tumor."
"In other words, they are dying?" Kelly winced at the sight of a rat struggling to stand. Shiho gently picked it up, holding it gently in her hands. "Yes, from preventable old age diseases. DNA degradation is the major cause of their degeneration," she replied.
"Ooh, that age-old notion that genetic factors contribute to age-related diseases," Moroshi inquired, "Does your drug reverse engineer the genome itself?"
"Highly unlikely you'll alter the chromosome's chemistry, which could lead to more harm than good," Kano argued.
Moroshi scowled at the old man, who seemed adamant that the drug had no value. While lifting a syringe, Shiho placed the rat down on the table again. The bait drug is diluted in it. "You are right," she said to Kano, who snorted, "though there are other methods that we can explore."
Once again, Shiho gestures to the rats.
"What if we could reverse the effects of their disease? After all, the majority of diseases caused by old age are not caused by external factors but by the internal functions of our cells. Apoptosis is the cursed yet blessed evolution of the biological world. Our cells are designed to die when they are deemed useless. The process is nature's way of eliminating poisons from the body. Despite its advantages, this process is a double-edged sword. Too much apoptosis will result in the breakdown of our bodies. A lack of it will result in cancer. Therefore, what if there exists a component that could manipulate and program our cells to behave as we wish? What if apoptosis could be perfected biologically? "
"That is impossible," Kelly muttered in disbelief. "Reprogramming a cell. That would be—"
"An incredible feat," Moroshi exclaimed.
Whistling, Jodie took in the information Shiho had explained. Shinichi having trouble wrapping his head around it. Components? Chemistry? Apoptosis? Controlling the body's natural degenerative process?
"Shinichi," Ran whispered, "What is Ai-chan talking about?"
The girl is confused by the terms coming out of Shiho's lips. Shinichi smirked slightly. It would seem that the extensive education provided by the black organization was paying off. If Shiho had continued down their path, she might have made something terrifying. A weapon so powerful no one could stop it. There was no doubt about that. Her actions confirmed her hidden agenda. The bait was not the drug she was presenting. No. Rather—it was herself.
Shiho was acutely aware of this.
Shinichi should have guessed.
"What a load of rubbish!" Kano snapped. "Prove it, and I might believe you."
"As you wish," Shiho inserted a syringe into the rats, injecting them with the concoction.
Finishing the task, Shiho calmly removed her gloves before placing the syringe on the table. Tensed silence ensued as the spectators held their breaths in anticipation. For a moment, nothing happened. The rats remained still under the spotlight. And then—
"What in the world," Sango breaks character. The woman covered her mouth with her hands as the rats burst to life. They were morphing, changing before their eyes. It was like observing a magic trick, but it wasn't. The rats were emitting a strange heat and were smoking as they transformed. There were no more warts, and the eyes were no longer cloudy. They stood, sniffling the air. Their fur—matted and dotted before carrying a healthy sheen.
FBI agents, directors, and stagehands were abuzz with fearful excitement, some whispering, others looking at Shiho in awe and apprehension. However, no one could be more excited than Habuki Moroshi himself. The man practically leaping from his seat, rushing over to the rats. Inspecting them carefully, he touched them all over. His eyes lit up with immense wonder, mouth gawking at the sight.
"It works," he whispered, bounding over to the other two, and dumping it on their table. Kano-san was still, eyes widened in disbelief. Kelly, stunned, picks up the rat gingerly. The American physician studies it for signs of illness—but found none. He drops the rat, before leaving the panel. Storming toward Shiho, he possessed a feverish glint in his eyes, marred by desperation.
"How!" He was not smiling. "How did you accomplish this? How is this possible!" He grabbed her shoulder roughly, demanding for answers.
Shiho recoiled from his sudden outburst.
"What is he doing?" Ran peeved by the man's actions. Shinichi felt the same, standing up, wanting to intervene but was grabbed by Jodie-sensei. The woman held him back.
"Patience, boy," she reminded him, and he stopped himself. She was right.
He couldn't act now—it would have ruined everything.
It was apparent that Kelly's reaction was exaggerated. And Shinichi glanced at Akai, who was examining the doctor with a great deal of scrutiny.
"Reprogramming," Shiho answered without giving anything away. At her response, Kelly fell still. Sango cuts in, standing in between.
"As much as I understand the excitement, let's all try to calm down, ok? " she said brightly, separating them. Kelly, seemingly regaining his senses, falls back.
"My apologies," he muttered, adjusting his suit as he returned to his seat.
"Now," Sango continued, turning to the rolling cameras, the woman brushed past the incident. "Could you elaborate on your creation?"
And Shiho was once again bombarded with questions—about her life, her research, and about the miracle she had just accomplished.
Using practiced lines she had prepared with Jodie-sensei, Shiho dodged the questions proficiently. Riddles and half-truths, one which Kano-san regarded with keen interest. Finally, the old man stood up, and the room went silent. The man's actions were a significant turn of events.
A faint smile adorned his lips. It was a momentous moment for national television, a milestone in scientific history. His almost happy visage a rarity for the man infamously known as the "scrooge."
"How?" he started, genuinely curious, "Did you create such a miracle?"
The professor and Ran were sitting on the edge of their seats. Jodie-sensei pumps her fist in triumph. The mission was successful. Kano-san had validated the drug himself.
The trap had been set. It was the organization's turn—to bite the bullet.
"Experiments," Shiho replied vaguely, "lots of experiments."
Kano snorted at her answer.
"Really? " Moroshi asked, "How does someone so young invent something like this?"
"I was born with a big head," Shiho answered sarcastically.
"Perhaps we should rephrase the question," Kano mused, pointing to the drug, "What do you plan to do with it?"
With a smirk tinged with mischief, Shiho shrugged, "World peace. I guess."
Her answer left them stunned. The professors gaped at her reply. The situation left Sango unsure of what steps to take.
Then, laughter. Deep-bellied, loud—it came from a surprising source. Kano-san, infamous for his stern, almost foreboding presence, was laughing.
"You are an enigma, Fujita-san," he commented.
For the second time, the studio descends into stunned silence—not knowing how to react to a man who they believed could never laugh.
Stumbling with his walking stick, the old man approached Shiho. The girl caught him before he fell.
With a smile, the famous surgeon extends a hand to her. The gesture was a rare sight—one that Scrooge rarely offered. Again, the studio erupts with frantic murmurs.
Kano's handshake was a sign of respect, of admiration. She stood his equal, and she took his hand, shaking it. The cameras caught wind of the event. The incident was recorded—creating a shitstorm on social media. The report had become an instant hit.
"Wow," Ran whispered as she showed Shinichi the articles that were already pinned up on prestigious news sites.
"Ai-kun is really famous now," commented the professor.
"Good," Jodie grinned. Moroshi Habuki and Sango interrupt the procession as Kelly asks a few more questions. The segment coming to an end.
As the procession continued, Akai appears behind him. "Boy," he motioned toward the exit.
"It's time," Shinichi whispered, and the man nodded. Together, they made their way down.
"Shinichi, where are you going? " Ran asked.
Jodie-sensei stopped her when she tried to follow.
"Stay with the professor," Shinichi instructed, "And Jodie-sensei."
"But—"
"Ran, just follow Jodie-sensei's instructions," he commanded, and his childhood friend folded her arms in frustration. "Please."
"Fine," she grumbled, "but I need an explanation after this."
He agrees before looking over at the auburn-haired scientist. The cameras were still rolling—she had done her part.
It was now—
His turn.
They had waited long enough.
"The show will end soon," Akai informed Shinichi as they walked purposefully down the corridor leading to the only entrance and exit of the studio. He handed Shinichi an earpiece and then a bulletproof vest.
The danger loomed—emerging days before.
"We only have one shot," Shinichi murmured.
Exiting the studio into the reception lobby, they were greeted by an entourage of FBI agents. Some were armed with guns pointing toward the doors, while others held heavy shields.
Shinichi takes a deep breath. To avoid alarming Shiho, they kept the information from her.
Perhaps a lack of planning or a mismatch of circumstances? Shinichi would never know.
It had been a fortunate coincidence—one that might have saved their lives. A blessing in disguise.
"Time to catch a rat," he whispered as Akai nodded, raising a pistol to the door leading to the studio. Aware of what lies ahead, the FBI agents prepared themselves.
"A good fat rat, indeed."
TO BE CONTINUED XD. I hope you enjoy this week's chapter and I thank you all for your kind reviews and words.
Note:
I have not revealed the true intention of the 2nd drug Shiho had created during her time in the organization.
So, all we know now is that- the bait drug used is one that can cure all sorts of diseases :D
Now as for the 2nd one- that has yet to be revealed :D
I hope this clears up the confusion