File One Hundred and Fifty-Two: A Silent Cry of Help
He knew this wasn't right.
And even if he didn't, his conscience was there ─ reminding him with every step, with every frown, that this was far from what should be considered morally acceptable. It whispered, soft as a breeze caressing the back of his mind, that maybe it would be best to walk away while he could.
No, it was not 'maybe'. He should definitely get going. If anyone were to hear about this, that he was here, at school, of all places, at such an hour when even the earliest birds were still snoozing… Well, he wasn't so clear on what would happen, but it wouldn't be any good.
That being said…
Ayumi's excited giggling took over his memories, followed by those certain teal-colored orbs that gaze back ahead, showing not a flicker of emotion or a reaction of any kind.
Taking a deep breath, Mitsuhiko stood straighter. Now that I'm here, I can't back off, he told himself then, fueled by this newfound bout of determination, gingerly pulled it open.
And indeed, according to his own expectations, he found it. There, small and innocent in the middle of an otherwise empty locker, lay a single letter.
Normally, he would probably not bat an eye at it, but since he could very clearly see the black heart stamped on the seal, the boy could not help but pluck out his forehead. He would have probably snatched it then and there, but resisted ─ his primal instincts paling against his long cultivated sense of rightfulness.
Being here in the first place was terrible as it was, something that his parents would probably frown upon if they were to learn about ─ something that his friends would probably reproach him about, though he had the feeling that Conan would laugh at his expense instead. Or roll his eyes and go about with his day, one could never know for certain with him.
Cautiously, the boy checked his surroundings and found not a single soul in the vicinity, no witnesses whatsoever. Nobody to take account of the events of his own possible failing as a moral human being.
The words of an old book, whose identity he could not determine, spoke louder than his own whispered conscience,
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
He shook his head immediately ─ no, that wouldn't make it any better. It would not change anything, for he was there, the sole witness needed to…
The letter found his hand before he could finish his thought. Quickly, as though he didn't want to process the weight of his own actions, Mitsuhiko pried the letter open, finding that it hadn't really been sealed and was more like an artistic choice, and found his frown deepening every step of the way.
I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this ─ I probably should stop-
His breath hitched, and his features smoothed out ─ for a split of a second, before blood drained from his face in an instant, and with it, any processing power left in his brain vacated the premises.
In between trembling hands, those few words slid in and out of focus.
"What?" he heard his own voice murmuring, bringing the letter a little closer to him. "But this… It can't-"
A banging noise sent his soul running to another dimension, while his physical body spun entirely on instinct. Pressing the letter to his chest out of instinct, Mitsuhiko's eyes darted about frantically.
"Who's there?!"
But there was nobody there, not a single noise despite his own elaborate breathing and the thump of his heart against his ribcage.
I must have imagined it, he thought, wiping the cold sweat away from his forehead. His breath left in a relieved sigh and began to turn back around. I should hurry up and tell Haibara-san about th-
All of a sudden, he halted. His mouth opened in a muted scream.
And a love letter landed on the ground, gently as though a vivid scarlet maple leaf in the middle of October.
"Hold your arms out front and raise them. Now stretch! One, two, three-"
Four. Four seconds. That was about everything Conan predicted it would take him to get there, so if it all went as planned, maybe he would be lucky enough to keep his own head.
Or maybe it was his brother's head that was at stake. Ai's last message dated from about half an hour ago, when the scientist might or might not have expressly told him to get there as soon as possible. But he had lost track of time, and now, there he was hoping that he wouldn't get to witnessing her finally losing it and jump on a certain high school detective he happened to know.
Now, he was sure he wouldn't like it if he were to find out about it, but for some reason, Conan could not help the chuckle that escaped him just by imagining the scene. Perhaps because of how absurd it sounded, or maybe it had to do with the thought of him, who always wanted to look so tough in his eyes, being so incredibly anxious about something this trivial.
Seriously, what was up with him? He had said it himself, hadn't he? This wouldn't prove anything that they didn't know about themselves.
These memories of his ─ of the both of them. As long as they prevailed, he'd know for certain.
"Now for your arms and legs. One, two, three, four, five…"
Just as he reached his destination, however, the child felt his himself halting. Hand resting against wood, feet idle at the Professor's doorstep ─ and a hesitant gaze, extending as far as it could see over his shoulders. But surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, he found nothing.
Nothing at all, besides this odd sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Completely uninvited, his friend Honda's dark gaze unexpectedly came to mind.
"Spin your arms outwards. Inwards… Five…"
"Six!" Conan exclaimed. Whether he had noticed Ayumi, right next to him, nearly jumping out of her skin, it would forever be a mystery she would never find out about. "Seven, eight!"
Slowly, Genta looked away from the random, empty spot he had been focused on, and barely even believed his own eyes at the sight of a bright, oversized grin. Energetically, he spun his arms as per the instructions from the voice in the radio, and could easily have smacked Ai in the face if she hadn't swiftly moved out of its way.
She didn't even comment about it. He, oblivious to the fact, didn't say anything either.
Genta, on the other hand, felt like he had a lot to say. Blinking, he tried to condense everything in a few words, alas, he had never been too good at this.
So, he inched closer to Ayumi, and settled with the next best thing.
"Something is wrong with Conan," he whispered to her.
At her left, Conan straightened up and stretched his back. She couldn't help but scrunch her forehead, disturbed and worried in equal quantities at watching him bending a little too far. He could get hurt if he kept on doing that, but he didn't seem to care, his movements exaggerated, his face big enough to split his face in half. As though he was genuinely having fun.
"Yeah," she confirmed, decidedly nodding her head. "I wonder if something happened."
None of them caught Professor Agasa and Ai exchanging a side-eyed look.
"I wonder what happened," Conan pipped in, all too focused on his stretching to notice Ayumi and Genta flinching at his sudden input. "Mitsuhiko, I mean. He told you guys he'd be here, didn't he?"
Ayumi stared at him for a moment, breaking out of her stupor with a breathless laugh.
"He said he would," she answered, sending Genta a pointed look, as if urging him to reply.
Or so he interpreted it, in any case. "He probably couldn't get up in time," he theorized.
Conan hummed as he considered that option. "He's not loose like you, Genta," he said, his face earnest. "He always arrives early."
He sent him a glare ─ not that he entirely grasped what he had said, but Genta was context sensitive to know that it had been no form of flattery. "At least we both actually show up."
"Well, I'm wearing my glasses and I still don't see him anywhere," Conan said, and chuckled. "So, I either need my prescription updated or you need to get one as soon as possible."
"You-!"
"Why don't we all go to Mitsuhiko-kun's house after this?" Agasa stepped in, cutting Genta's loud reply before it could even begin. "He might have come down with a summer cold or something."
"Sure!" Conan agreed, his voice an octave higher than it normally would be.
All the while, Ayumi and Genta narrowed their eyes, watching in complete silence as their friend went back to his exercise routine, humming an unknown melody under his breath that happened to match with his movements.
From the corner of her eye, Ai, too, risked a glance towards the boy. But her face never once betrayed the many thoughts that danced behind her eyes.
Never once during their journey did they take their eyes off him.
It had been subtle at first, nothing further than a quiet shared look between the two of them, followed by a swift glance thrown towards him just before going back to their exercises.
He could have almost laughed because they probably must've been oh-so-proud of themselves and their newfound slyness that any organization member would be vividly jealous about, yet in reality, they were painfully obvious. Conan would probably have been dead for quite a few years if he was that clueless.
Despite everything, the boy had decided to keep his smile up and pretend to be oblivious to their scrutiny in hopes that it would, just, go away on its own.
The few discreet glimpses sent to his person had turned into a long staring session through narrowed eyes a few steps past the school gates, and the exchanged glances had gained a voice to whisper amongst one another before as they had reached the next block.
He could've turned around, stare at them dead in the eye to remind them that he was still there and that his auditive system worked splendidly well, yet he stopped himself. His gaze remained fixated on the front ─ pointedly ignoring the penetrating stare Ai, unlike any of her friends, wasn't interested in hiding.
For the entire way to Mitsuhiko's house, the smile prevailed firmly on his features.
"That's strange. He said he was going camping with all of you."
It didn't waver ─ it froze in his lips, struggling to understand what the high school girl standing in front of him was trying to tell him, and his friends by extension. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide as if it would help to make the situation any clearer for her, but to no avail. It had been useless from the very beginning.
"Camping?" he heard Genta and Ayumi echoing, their attention finally off him.
"He went out earlier than usual, and came back right afterwards," she, the girl who Conan had identified as Mitsuhiko's older sister, explained. "He was excited, saying that there was a change of plans… He even filled his bag with sweets, to share with all of you, he said."
The smile he had fought too hard to keep from tumbling down was, sadly, halfway undone. But it kept on fighting. "Sweets?" he asked, confused.
"Yes. The lady next door gave them to us."
O-Okay? Conan supposed that it was fine, that Mitsuhiko could do whatever he wanted and should not be questioned about it. But even he would admit that it was kind of random, brought out of literally nowhere. Could the boy have finally lost it, meaning that any attempt to put some logic to his moves was a waste of time?
No, definitely not. There were still a few people left in the line that would lose their mind before he could. Conan didn't dare to guess which spot he was occupying.
Smile long forgotten as he sunk deep in his thoughts, Conan frowned, and his finger curled around his chin.
"Do you have any idea where he'd go?" Ayumi asked her.
"Some place he'd sneak off to," Genta added.
Which were excellent questions by themselves, but unfortunately, it was Mitsuhiko who they were talking about. So it wasn't actually that much of a surprise when his sister drew a blank.
But what was surprising for Conan, in many more ways than one, was that not even a line of expression had moved out of place at the mention of her little brother's unofficial disappearance ─ even going as far as to, cheerfully so, suggest taking a look inside his room.
Not a single note was left behind, and his wallet was just as missing as its owner was. That, and seeing that he had stuffed his back with non-perishable food, only left one conclusion for Conan to make.
Mitsuhiko knew it would be a long journey ─ he ran from home, to a faraway place.
"You're kidding?! Really?!" Mitsuhiko's sister had exclaimed, her eyes twinkling for no good reason. "This is like a movie!"
Yeah, there was absolutely no way in hell those two were actually related. Like, seriously, he might have known this girl for a few good minutes, but it was obvious that they were just as similar as day and the night.
Mitsuhiko was responsibility incarnated; a boy who, despite his age, lived his life according to the laws of logic, often the voice of reason amongst the rowdy group of friends destiny had paired him with.
Tsuburaya Asami seemed to be… an easy-going individual. Extremely carefree, prone to daydreaming and perpetually unbothered, probably to the point to be a motive of actual concern ─ her little brother, whom she clearly adored by the way her gaze lit up whenever she talked about him, could be in grave danger right now, and she was gushing about this becoming some exciting movie plot? Conan found it hard to believe that they would share a single drop of blood.
Then again, if he really looked at her, Conan would somehow find himself staring into Mitsuhiko's eyes. His nose, the fall of the jawline, even the freckles dusted all over her face ─ she looked exactly like what Mitsuhiko would be if he was female and about ten years older. From that point of view, they were clearly either siblings, or a clone grown in a test tube at an unknown, unregulated laboratory in some other country.
Of course, a physical resemblance was not decisive evidence. It was not enough to prove what they were.
"There are some indicators of some sort of a relationship between you both," Ai's voice pierced through his mind, cool and emotionless like the day they met. "I'd need more samples to identify it with one hundred percent certainty, but..."
He couldn't remember what he had done, his next words were a complete mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to uncover. But what he did recall was her gaze, that had remained stubbornly fixated at the documents, lifting to meet his. He remembered the frown on her face, the purse on her lips, and the many emotions that passed by too quickly to be pieced together.
She had taken a deep breath, whereas his had caught in his throat.
"With these results, a father-son relationship is impossible," she had told him, watching his life slowly fall apart. "I'm sorry, Conan."
Conan shook his head a little too violently. Don't go there, he told himself, and pulled the innocent calendar he had picked up closer to his eyes ─ as though he had found something so amazing he couldn't take his gaze away from it, when in reality, it was just that. A plain, old calendar with no relevance at all.
"Oh," Genta said, suddenly. "Did you find anything there, Conan?"
Not my dignity, that's for sure.
He motioned at the object in his hands. "A calendar," he told him. Which was true, if very uninformative.
"That's, uh, good?" Genta tried, unsure.
Not that Conan was certain of it himself. From behind him, he spotted Agasa watching him with what he would interpret as concern, but again, pretended not to notice.
"It seems like he went out a lot," Ai observed, manifesting suddenly at his right. She moved a little closer, as if to take a better look at the calendar he was still holding, "He even circled different dates in different colors," before she glanced back at him ─ unwillingly making him flinch back because that was close. "What does that mean?"
Conan raised an eyebrow. "Why would I know?"
"I don't know. You picked it up, not me."
He seriously hoped he had an answer for that one ─ and for several others as well, but that was well beside the point and what he was willing to ponder about at the moment.
"Say, Conan-kun," Ayumi said, at his left, peering down at the calendar with big curious eyes.
Conan wasn't sure if he wanted to acknowledge her, whether she would be a helping hand that would pull him out from the hole he had dug for himself, or if she would cover the entrance so that he'd be out of the picture forever. In fact, he didn't even know which option would be the most favorable for him.
"Isn't this weird?" she asked regardless, pointing at a certain date Mitsuhiko had circled. "Here, July 31th."
Genta's head popped up in his sight, squinting his eyes at the calendar from upside down. Evidently, a different angle did not make the matter any more obvious for him, or for the little detective, in any case.
"What's wrong with that?" he asked her. "It's just a date."
"It's not the date!" she argued. "I mean, why did he mark it there?"
Although it pained him to admit it, Conan had just as much of a grasp on the matter as Genta was. Which wasn't the greatest thing ever, considering that Ayumi was puffing out her cheeks out of frustration. Hadn't it been Ayumi who they were talking about, Conan was sure she was a moment away from strangling him or something.
So, if he could pretend he was, too, lost about this whole thing, then the better. His eyes fell on the calendar again, at the number 31 circled in red marker, and stared at it, hard, as though it would say something if he pressed it for long enough.
Just like Ai was staring at him, by the way ─ and it was that kind of half-lidded stare that often told him that he was being dumb about something and she couldn't wait to walk out of the room and his life. Which meant it was obvious, and somehow, Conan still couldn't see it.
Let's see… For starters, the number is lighter than the rest. Much lighter. That wasn't either surprising, nor wasn't odd in the slightest degree. They were looking at a page dedicated to August, and it was natural for the calendar manufacturers to fill up the first week of the month with the last few days in July. It isn't like Ayumi-chan hasn't seen a calendar before. Why should this be-?
Conan blinked, his flooding thoughts halting for a heartbeat, then proceeded to flip a page back. July 31st isn't marked here. Just the 5th, for that matter. Why would he mark it on the August one and then leave this one…
His eyes grew wide. He flipped it back, and took a second and better look at the marked dates, and the colors to circle each of them.
Red: July 5th, July 31st ─ marked on the page for August ─ and August 5th.
Blue: August 4th, August 6th and August 26th.
He didn't notice his growing frown until both Ayumi and Genta turned to stare at them with their eyebrows raised. None of them tried to say anything, they just stood there, waiting and waiting for him to elaborate.
"I see," Conan said after a while, grinning sheepishly at the duo, "that Mitsuhiko couldn't wait for August to come."
Ayumi and Genta stared harder. "What?" they chorused, in equal confusion.
"He must have turned the page over before August came by, then something must have come up on July 31st so he just marked it there," Conan replied with a shrug, setting the calendar back in place. "That being said, he did go out a lot, huh. Think he got himself a girlfriend or something?"
Ai crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze never losing its intensity. But as long as she didn't say anything, Conan would gladly let her keep her thoughts to herself.
"A girlfriend?" Asami commented, her forehead scrunched up in thought ─ suddenly reminding Conan of her presence in the room. "Come to think of it, he did mention that older girl… She worked in the flower shop her family owned during the weekend. I remember he said that girl once praised him." She pressed a finger to her cheek, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as she pondered. "Maybe she asked him for a date and took him to the beach?"
Conan was definitely not following. "Beach?"
"Because he asked to borrow my sunscreen. I bought it on the shop channel, it's foreign made and expensive!"
Just like the rest of his group, he chose silence. Yeah, right. But it didn't mean it had to be quiet within his mind realm also. As if Mitsuhiko would do that.
No matter how terribly out of character, the teenage girl in front of him was pretty smiling from ear to ear, endeared about a silly random, young love story that made as much sense as Conan's life in general ─ but he did had a heart, so he would allow him her to delve in blissful ignorance.
And so she left, after making them promise to please let her know if there was any advance in this case ─ though for the wrong reasons only. Unsure of what to say, their investigation group watched her trudge down the stairs, humming to herself and basically bouncing on her feet.
Sighing, Conan turned back around as soon as she vanished from sight, facing the strange calendar he had come across by chance ─ left to sit there, innocently, on top of the missing boy's desk.
There's… something that doesn't quite fit.
His gaze wandered a little off, and slid across the desk where all his study materials were displayed for every guest, welcome or not, to see. Books, notebooks, even an old, well-loved pen cup ─ the way they were placed, so neat and organized, was so like Mitsuhiko that Conan would not doubt who it belonged to for a second.
That being said, if he looked closely, he'd find some inconsistencies. Like the two marker caps thrown carelessly about. Red and blue. Casually, the same colors he had used on the calendar. And surprisingly, none of them is in the pen cup.
Could he have misplaced them? He would have believed it in a heartbeat if it was Genta, but Mitsuhiko?
Hoping to get something, anything, that would light up the path for him, the boy opened the drawer and peered in.
There they are. Scattered among his other belongings, two markers ─ red and blue. None of them had their cap on.
His eyes narrowed. Mitsuhiko, you…
"Found something?"
Conan closed the drawer firmly. "Nothing particularly useful," he assured Ai. She wasn't convinced. "Come on, we should get going before the flower shop closes."
As he put on a smile and walked out of Mitsuhiko's room, Conan hastened his pace. Never once did the gears in his mind stop turning ─ and praying to any god out there that may have forsaken him a long time ago, to please let him be alright.
Because no. Conan had no clue of what was going on anymore, but he didn't like where this was going either.
In the end, the older girl who Asami had referred them to had about as much of a clue about Mitsuhiko's whereabouts as they did, which was disheartening at best.
That being said, Conan supposed he should have expected that. If Asami's account of the events was to be proven true, Mitsuhiko had first walked out of his home much earlier than usual, before returning soon afterwards. There was no way the Fujiwaras' flower shop would have been up and about from such an ungodly hour.
And then, she had been at the exercises like literally every other kid in their school, except for Mitsuhiko, obviously ─ and Honda, but his presence in such an event would have been a miracle on its own, and considering Conan himself had shown his face there, he supposed the world just wasn't prepared for another one.
She was there, alright, Conan considered. I remember seeing her around, so she's telling the truth, but…
His gaze lowered, falling right onto his scribbled notes ─ or rather, the unsettlingly blank pages that stared back at him, almost challengingly, for him to fill them with anything else but those few lines he had managed. If only there was something else, something they could go by…
The calendar stumbled back into his mind, bringing forward a frown and his attention to the numbers that he had written.
5 0 5
4 6 2 6
He bit back a sigh, slamming his notebook closed.
"But I did see him last Sunday morning," the girl suddenly said, after a moment of thinking about it. "At the bus stop when I was on my way back to the exercises."
Conan's head snapped back up at that.
"It looked like he was being scolded by some older men… Something they won't tell him, and he shouldn't go get it."
Then dropped back again, frowning at the notebook he gripped so tightly, as if he was to be blamed about everything currently going through his mind. A lot, Ai assumed, watching him in silence.
"What was he supposed to go get?" Agasa asked.
"They mentioned the name of a samurai from long ago... Was it Uesugi or Takeda? No, maybe Toyotomi or Tokugawa."
Ayumi's eyes sparkled first, and then came Genta, absolutely excited at what they were certain pointed straight to the infamous Tokugawa hidden treasure. And truth to be told, Conan wished more than ever before that he could have been one of them ─ just an innocent child, free to be irritated at his friend for going out on his own searching for a treasure all on his own. He wished, so desperately, that he could just shake his head, call it a day and wait for his friend to return all on his own, and tell him to his face just how stupid that was.
But as long as that numeric sequence remained in his mind, his heart would not rest easy. Not that he could tell them any of that ─ ignorance was truly a blessing.
And he wasn't only talking about Mitsuhiko either. If only.
"Then…" the girl suddenly said, after a long moment of pondering. "It must have been him who I saw this morning, then."
That morning, at the bus stop, she had seen him; a boy with a cap pulled down low, carrying a backpack, who hadn't even as much reacted when she called him out ─ just went out with his life, boarded the bus and never once looked back. But that was not, by any means, what had confused the Fujimuras' child that day.
It had been the smell, the lemony scent that had caressed her nose as he walked past her as though she didn't exist.
Later, while still unexplainable, the odd smell of lemons would have turned into certainty after talking with the driver of the bus that, as they had correctly deduced, Mitsuhiko had taken earlier today. For he claimed to have spotted a child like that, overly serious and focused on something far beyond his comprehension. As though he had been hiding from something, he had said.
A runaway, that was how the driver had labeled him and promptly forgot about it as he got off at Beika Station ─ until, of course, a bunch of kids came up to him and asked him about it.
No matter how much of a smart boy Ran liked to describe him as, Conan would never understand how this came to be.
Mitsuhiko has been acting weird. Showed signs of being terrified, likely chased by someone else. And everyone, just… let him walk away.
And now he's out there, all on his own, counting his breaths and praying that whatever he's running away from doesn't catch up with him… And these people did not even spare him a second glance, a call to the police or, I don't know, a helping hand of any kind.
What a world to live in.
But it was okay, really. All in all, Conan considered that he was taking it well, maybe a little too well, but that was fine ─ it was the best he could manage, considering the circumstances and the rapidly increasing density of grown-ups with the emotional range of an ice cube he seemed to be experiencing.
"Yes. He was really scared." One of those useless idiots was now talking to them, smiling down at him like they had done nothing wrong. Which, to be fair, was exactly what made him want to pull out a soccer ball and do his usual thing. Nothing. "Like somebody was after him or something."
Again, it was perfectly fine. Like, he was smiling as well, even ─ a radiant, adorable grin that spread through his face like wildfire as he dug out his phone from his pocket and promptly snapped a photo at that certain pair of clueless Beika Station attendants.
"Uh, little boy?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm reporting you to customer support!" he chirped. "Not helping a child who's in such clear distress is frowned upon by many people, did you know that?"
Hopefully, their boss would be part of that majority, but he didn't find it necessary to clarify. For they had both gone rigid, only moving to exchange a look with one another, and then back to the Professor, of all people. The only responsible adult in the entire block, the boy could easily estimate.
"Good luck!" Conan cheered them on one last time.
Before he spun on his heels and set off to buy some tickets so they could continue with this goose chase, possibly all around Japan if they didn't get to it soon. Gunma or Chiba, was what they said. He bought an adult ticket and asked them to change it. Quickly.
The children hurried after their friend. Agasa could only laugh awkwardly at the station attendants before doing the same, but did not stop once to apologize on his little, innocent ward's behalf.
As he should.
Tucking a long lock of her hair behind her ear, she kept on writing. At her left, there was an old diary, and in her face, a look of utter concentration as her deep scarlet, ever-penetrating gaze scanned over its yellowing pages.
From her right, a teenage boy glanced over, curiously peering over to watch her neat, delicate strokes of pencil dancing across her notes as though it were a blank canvas.
"I wish, I wish so desperately that I could tell you that this is where the story ended; a tragedy followed by another loss, a humble family that has suffered so much in a single night. For a while, I even tried to believe it.
Because my heart wasn't strong enough to bear yet another departure, I kept on going ─ I pretended to be oblivious to whatever entity threaded closer, watching us from the shadows in search of a chance to strike.
Masa-oniisan was the third to go ─ delved deep within the forest, yet only half of him came back. Because Ren kept me from moving closer to it, I didn't see much of it, just the blood, blood, and the defensive scratches on his arms that spoke of how valiantly he had fought for his life.
Never did I find out if, even in death, that carefree smile that used to fuel me with courage still remained. Maybe it was for the best ─ at least, that way, I can pretend that it's still there. That I haven't lost something precious to me all over again."
Beautiful or not, it did not stop one Kuroba Kaito from cringing. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly enough, she did not even blink an eye at it, diligently working her way through the next part of the code.
Koizumi Akako, being her own, magical, witchcrafty kind of individual, was not exactly what he would call a mind blowing discovery. But he did write it down just in case, on his mental list of reasons as to why he should avoid engagement whenever possible. And if it wasn't possible, then he definitely had to stay away.
That being said…
"It is exactly as the song says. The fourth victim, who chopped himself in halves. Although an accident doesn't seem to be possible, considering the defensive marks the owner of this diary mentioned.."
Kaito wanted to roll his eyes ─ and he did, actually. Sadly, the blonde detective sitting at his table did not seem to register his presence, instead taking a sip from his coffee ─ well, technically Meitantei's, but since it had been found in his cabinet, Kaito found like he had grounds to make such an accusation.
Why? His eyebrow twitched. Why is that bastard Hakuba ranting about an eighty-year-old homicide in my living room?
And such a nasty one, at that. Kaito successfully kept a shiver at bay. The wonders of a poker face.
Enough was enough, however, and he made it known by setting both his palms over the table, maybe a little too dramatically, sure, and pushed himself off his seat.
"Where are you going?" Hakuba asked him.
"If you didn't notice, homicide is not really my style," Kaito answered, already on his way to… somewhere else. "Where's that guy, anyway? He should take responsibility instead of me."
"That's what I'd like to know."
At the frustrated huff, he turned around, and in the doorway he saw the frowning face of his childhood friend. Not aimed at him, for once, but at the phone she was holding in front of her face.
"I've been calling him all day, but he doesn't answer," Aoko said, crossing the room in an instant.
She promptly dropped into the first chair in reach, and Kaito begrudgingly realized it was his just recently abandoned spot. But as her head dropped and her grip tightened around her phone, Kaito did not find it within himself to say anything.
"I'm sure he'll answer soon," Hakuba tried, with a hopefully reassuring smile. "It is highly likely that he's simply focused on a case he encountered on his way back from Beika."
Aoko nodded, but other than that, didn't answer ─ but whether she had believed in it or not, he could not tell for sure. Akako stayed silent as well, her thoughts forever a mystery as she flipped a page over.
Kaito could only pinch the bridge of his nose, and pray that his dear Lady Luck may be on his side, now that she had clearly abandoned him with Hakuba, of all people, in his own house.
Just this once.
Eventually, the shadows stretched languidly across the ground, and the vivid blue that mellowed to a beautiful reddish hue made a certain bespectacled detective all too aware of the rapid passage of time.
There was no set deadline, yet he found it impossible to get rid of the impression that they were running out of time. Out of options too, as they were dropped off on the last station on their list, and with that came their last hope of finding Mitsuhiko alive and well.
"Yes. That boy passed through here."
Their relief was palpable, probably a bit too obvious by this unfamiliar man working at the station ─ a small one in comparison to the automatized and technologically advanced ones that they'd been touring in for a few hours now. Which was fortunate, really, because the lack of automatic ticket gates provided him with the witnesses he so desperately needed.
"I'd notice any kid that acted as suspicious as him," he told them. "He was the last to get off and then he hid behind the station building. But right after that, he ran off towards the mountain."
Conan blinked owlishly up at him. "And you let a child run off towards a mountain all alone, in such a condition?"
He noticed him flinching. "I… may have?"
Conan stared. The man stared back.
And suddenly, the boy stuck a hand inside his pocket. Before he could try anything, however, Ai walked up to him and grabbed him by the arm, silently yanking him away from the scene.
Laughter ensued, just as awkward as the other time, but growing all the more muffled as the distance increased. Until suddenly, it was nothing but a weak murmur in his ears, nearly indistinguishable in the silence he was shrouded by.
Ai chose that moment to level him with a look, all but making his own smile flicker.
"What's wrong?" he asked her, genuinely confused.
Never the one to prefer quick and simple explanations, she dug a finger on his cheek. He bit back a grunt of pain as she promptly pushed it further, pulling from the corner of his lip, upwards.
"Someone should teach you how to deal with your emotions," said her, of all people, with that mysterious, monotonous tone she only seemed to use to make him wonder, "like a normal human being instead of a miniature time bomb."
"Should I remind you, you're also a child-"
She went for her other cheek next, forcing the smile that he had been keeping up for so long. Her gaze, expressionlessly cold, flickered all over his face, as though searching for something, and narrowed.
"This is deniability at its finest." Whether she found it or not, Conan wasn't certain he wanted to know. "It's like that time with Singani. All over again."
But he sure knew he had found it himself, all without even trying. A mere vestige of some foreign something, he couldn't ─ he didn't want to ─ recognize, but it was remarkably powerful, like none other before it.
No, that was a lie. In his memory, the icy blue from that time was just as intense as it had been yesterday ─ staring back into his soul, striving to discover what else he was hiding within his heart, struggling to understand, to make him see what he was seeing.
But all Conan had done was avert his eyes, unable to hold it any longer.
And he might have missed his reaction, but the hands on his shoulders had tightened their grip. It hurt a little ─ Conan could only wonder if he had ever been aware of it.
His own fingers wrapped around her wrist, gently pulling them away. She went along with the movement, quiet as she contemplated him.
With all trace of that horrifying smile gone, came a dulled, hollow excuse of a gaze. Not a comforting sight by any means, but one that stole a sigh out of her all the same .
"We could resolve this drama once and for all," she told him. "I told you, if I got a sample from Shinichi-san and you, I might be able to get the complete picture."
In his ears, his voice echoed. Louder, firmer than he had even been. Yet, unlike him, Conan had been silent.
"It could be so easy…" Ai pressed in, holding tight onto his wrists ─ more or less the same way he, unconsciously, clung onto hers. "But it's almost like you're running away again."
"Maybe I am," came into a weak whisper ─ and it fell on her how exhausted he sounded, in many ways more than one. More than she could even get her head around. "I… don't want to see it again."
The mundane printed letters on a plain piece of paper ─ the crushing weight of reality robbing the air out of him, pointing and laughing at him for even believing such a horrible lie for so long.
"This… I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this," came his dear brother's voice, wavering as though a lost leaf on a stormy night. "I'm sure if we try again…"
Freeing himself from her feeble grasp, Conan walked right past her.
"Conan... Don't tell me you…"
She watched him go for a moment, as his back grew smaller with the distance, and turned fully. Taking a deep breath, Ai stood straighter.
"Don't run away from fate, Conan."
She didn't know if her words had been heard, but the halt in his steps made her believe that, maybe, it hadn't been for naught.
The sound of approaching footsteps, as well as the muffled chattering that always foretold their arrival, made her all the more conscious that they had company. And by the time Ayumi was grinning back at her, and Genta eyed his surroundings worriedly in search of a clue of where to go next, Conan was already playing with the rim of his glasses.
"I located the signal from Mitsuhiko's badge," the boy informed them. "It seems like that guy wasn't lying. He's actually around here."
Somewhere in the background, Professor Agasa grinned, undoubtedly proud of his own invention.
"But if he's got his badge with him," Genta pipped in, "why don't you call him?"
"It'd be nice if we could." He pressed the button on his badge a few more times, before giving up with a sigh. "But he doesn't answer."
What prevented him from answering, he wondered. Conan had the nagging feeling that he did not want any response. He picked up his pace instead, expecting his group to follow him, led by nothing but an eerily still little dot in the middle of nowhere.
Please, just this once… Never did the boy stop pleading, his finger sore from pressing on his badge. Answer me, Mitsuhiko.
Yet, no matter how much he mentally pleaded for any sign, Mitsuhiko would refuse to utter a response ─ silent like the pages of a calendar being flipped over, sitting deadly still on an ordinary desk, waiting for the day when someone finally noticed its inconspicuous presence and its loud cries for help.
But as it was, Conan could hear nothing at all, and here he found himself, threading further inside a forest and hoping that this was nothing but a misunderstanding on his part. That in no time at all, Genta would shine his flashlight at a mortified Mitsuhiko hunched behind some tree somewhere, only to laugh, full-heartedly, at that half-baked ridiculous excuse for a theory haunting his mind.
Together they would take the train back to Beika, probably laughing at his expense, and Conan would get in bed that night refusing to leave his room for another semester at the latest-
A quiet snapping sound had Conan twirling around, his eyes darting all over the growing shadows of the approaching night. But there was nothing there ─ just them, the forest, and his steadily growing paranoia that, for some reason, had now seemed to gain a voice of his own.
He needed to get to Mitsuhiko right now, it repeated, over and over again into the void of his thoughts.
"Oh?" Genta suddenly said, and Conan could've sworn his heart almost went full stop there. "Hey, there's people over there- H-Hey, Conan!"
Not wasting another second, Conan's legs had already made the decision for him. They took him there all on their own, not minding the startled screams or rushed questioning ─ to the crowd of older men that just stood there, either talking to themselves or joining forces to hide a body, he didn't know. It had happened once, so he couldn't really tell for sure.
"Hey!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Excuse me!"
In his mind, he could see his older brother shaking his head at him. Dimly, he realized that might be a highly inaccurate representation ─ he'd be tearing his hair from his scalp if he were to see him right now. Probably.
But now, it was too late to back up. And when the first person turned at his call, he might have regretted losing that chance.
Because in front of him was the person he'd like to see the least here, in the middle of the forest, when his friend may or may not be in grave danger. Possibly close behind Gin or maybe, just maybe, Vermouth herself.
The man in front of him squinted his eyes at him, before they went wide in realization.
"You are-!" he screamed, shocked.
Conan offered him a bland look, but not an answer per se.
You had a good life, Mitsuhiko, was his most sincere reaction.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Detective Yamamura."
Note to self, if you have to pick a forest to get yourself lost in, make sure it's not in Gunma.
Or at least, teach yourself how to survive away from civilization for, like, the next twenty years.
"I believe we have already made that point clear," Yamamura said, bending closer to him. Up from close, Conan supposed that the twitching eyebrow should have been nothing short of intimidating ─ emphasis in 'should have'. "It's not 'detective'."
Conan simply stared back, unblinking.
"Conan-kun!" Ayumi's call echoed, probably, all over the forest. She caught up to him right away, followed by Genta and Ai, and a slightly winded Professor close behind. "Who are you talking to?"
"Nobody. Just Officer Yamamura."
Yamamura frowned. "Like I said-"
"Oh, right, sorry. Actual police officers do not deserve to fall in the same category as you-"
He didn't even let him finish. Deciding that he had heard enough for the day, Detective Yamamura had gone straight for the root of his own troubles. From the hood of his shirt, it seemed, like a mischievous, annoying little kitten being taken away from a place he shouldn't be.
"It's not safe for you here," Yamamura said, settling him back on the ground, just a few steps further into the way back.
I know it's not. Conan glowered back at him. Not with you here in front of us.
"I want all unauthorized people out of this forest right now."
"Not safe?" Agasa echoed. "Has a bear been sighted?"
At the question, the detective's face hardened ─ as if a means to answer it, or if it was a natural reaction to the dangers of this forest, Conan did not care enough to find out.
But he was forced to, in any case. "A man that's more dangerous than a bear is hiding out around here."
Yeah, Conan mentally deadpanned. And I'm looking at him.
Yamamura took a step backwards, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
"Why…" He glanced over at the professor, pointing at the child that simply watched him from over his glasses, like an amused librarian. "Why is this boy looking at me like that?"
"Detective Yamamura." Yamamura flinched, his attention instantly back to the girl with the cold, scrutinizing eyes. His mouth opened in protest, but as her arms crossed over her chest and lifted her eyebrows, it clicked back closed on its own. "Who is this dangerous man you're talking about?"
For some reason, the detective faltered, his whole body shaken by a sudden wince that Conan could not explain, and threw a swift glance over his shoulder ─ towards the rest of his partners, Conan realized upon following it.
It was as though he didn't want them to hear, which was stupid, really. Weren't they working with him, meaning that they also were aware of the situation at hand?
"The truth is, I can't say this out loud. It seems a veteran cop let him get away during the inspection of the crime scene…"
The little detective rolled his eyes, the urge too powerful to keep it in any longer. Maybe he should ignore this quack detective, he decided ─ to walk past him while he was distracted doing whatever, and to hope that he could spot Mitsuhiko before it got even darker and any of them wound up with a broken neck or something.
So, he took a single step backwards.
"It's that serial killer, Numabuchi Kiichiro."
And did not get to take a second one, suddenly overtaken by the memory of a crazed gaze, of the glint of a knife, and just as if he was back in Osaka that day all over again, he felt the air knocked out of his lungs.
Fingers rubbed his chest, right where the omamori he had borrowed from Hattori had been ─ to this day, he still felt cold at the mere thought of what would have happened, had the story been any different. If Hattori had not, in one way or another, saved him.
To this day, he still wondered if he'd have hung in there long enough to hear Ran's wailing, to feel her warm embrace one last time before he had to go haunt his brother in a more literal way. Without him around, Conan wondered if he would have gotten killed already in some reckless stunt or his, or if the opposite would've happened.
Luck had been, for once, on his side that night. But now…
Damn it, Mitsuhiko. Where the hell are you?!
The sun had already hidden over the horizon by the time she pulled over in front of that certain house in Beika, and the shadows had long since born anew, crawling over its walls to swallow it whole.
"I don't know about this, Sato-san," came Takagi's voice from over the passenger seat, just barely strong enough for her to hear. "It doesn't look like Professor Agasa is home."
She couldn't have told him that he was in the wrong, even if she tried to. For that to work, she'd probably have to delude herself, convince herself that there was a reasonable explanation for the old professor to keep all his lights off at, say, five past seven.
Normally, she'd probably have given it a second thought, probably a third, if she got the time for that. Yet, there was this mail, that she still kept safe in her inbox ─ one that promised her to tell her everything she wanted to know, 'about a certain obscure organization you might be interested in', it had said, before telling her to head over to that peculiar address at her earliest convenience.
And now… It was far too late for backing up.
So, Sato drew in a deep breath, and tightening her grip on her gun, she nodded to herself. But before she could even move, a hand had secured a strong firm around her wrist, and a glance over to her side revealed a frown.
All sorts of emotions flickered behind Takagi's gaze. It was rare to see that kind of resolve, but when it finally surfaced in situations like these, Sato was hardly the one not to be amazed by it.
"It may be a trap," Takagi said, his voice raising just a little.
"I know," she admitted. She glanced over at the house in question, but Takagi's hold on her barely disappeared. "But this person summoned me to the Professor's house, out of all places."
"But if it was the Professor, why not call you himself, instead of sending that cryptic message?" Takagi said. "When I tried to trace the number, all I found was that it was a burner phone. It's almost like…"
"They want to keep their identity a secret," Sato completed his line of thought with a firm nod. "In the best-case scenario, they're an ally of the Professor."
"But on the other hand, if they're not…"
"Then the Professor could be in trouble."
And then, silence. Opening his mouth and closing it uselessly, Takagi pushed forward, his intention made clear through an iron grip alone. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Sato felt as if she could hear them, every single word that he wanted to say, but his mouth could not.
All of a sudden, everything was gone ─ his thoughts, his determination, even his now slackening grip. And the culprit of all of it were those lips of hers, they always were, pressing against his cheek.
"That's why I brought you here," she said, the warm breath against his ear causing his to slip away. "So you can do the protecting this time."
There was a smile playing at them as she pulled back, and he could only imagine that the fire in his face was but a mirror at the adorable blush coloring her cheeks.
"I'm counting on you to watch my back," was all she told him before she stepped out of her car.
And without taking a single look back, without even waiting for an answer, the detective brazed forward. Diving right in the darkness, her gun secured in an unwavering grip, she walked up to the door. Not a single noise reached her as she pressed her ear against it, not a single sign that there was someone else ─ waiting for her, like the message had said.
Just because she couldn't hear it didn't mean that there was none, however. Carefully, she opened it and carefully slipped back inside, her body tense and ready for whatever was waiting in there.
Yet, she found nothing. Nothing, but endless darkness and the sound of her own galloping heart.
"Thank you for coming."
Her heart skipped a beat as she jumped, her gun ready as she twirled about. Immediately locating the source, she aimed at the window ─ to the silhouette framed by the silvery glow of the moon, that of a young man raising his hands in defense.
His attempt to present himself as harmless did little to soothe her nerves.
"Show yourself," she demanded, her voice as firm as her grip on her weapon. "Now."
"Of course. I was planning to, anyway."
As requested, he took a step forward, and instinctively, she felt herself backing down. Darkness gave way to a youthful face, quite a few years younger than she had expected ─ a teenager, much to her well-hidden bewilderment, was now standing in front of her.
His hands tucked inside his pockets as per usual, but unlike the many photographs she had seen over the years, that certain smirk that had always exuded that confidence through the camera lens was missing altogether.
But as he raised his head and that piercing blue made its appearance, Sato knew. She knew exactly who he was.
In front of her stood the brilliant but missing, high school detective Kudo Shinichi himself.
"I will tell you everything I know," he told her. "About the criminal syndicate I refer to as the Black Organization."