File One Hundred and Thirty-Two: A Man Named Furuya Rei
"You're an enemy, right? Of the bad guys."
The air his words had been whispered into had grown stale, far too dense to be comfortably breathed in, or to move a lift finger, even. Yet Conan minded none of it, pushing it all to the back of his head.
And waited with a bated breath, his heart racing in his chest, for Bourbon to react to his words.
As far as the case was concerned, it didn't look like it would take much longer to get over it. Out of the three suspects that had been presented for them to interrogate, there was only one who had unwittingly singled himself out as the culprit they had been looking for.
Even though he had admitted, without being fully conscious of what it truly implied, that he was the stalker that had the victim hiring Amuro as a detective, Sugamoto was probably innocent about pretty much everything else. Same went for Ueno ─ the one who had accused Natsuko for 'seducing' a fifth grader. At first, they had wondered how that came to happen since the victim was supposed to be the homeroom teacher to class 1-C, but apparently, it was possible since Natsuko taught English to upper grade levels as well.
Reason for which the words that had left Kandachi's mouth had Conan raising an eyebrow:
"Even if it were for me, the equations filling her head with numbers must have confused her. It sounds like she was grading tests."
How had he known she was grading math tests? Conan himself had not been aware, until he saw it with his own eyes much, much later.
Which made this man either a deduction genius, or a criminal.
Further proof had meant further confirmation of his theory being right, in the form of a photograph of the answer sheets found besides the victim. Right answers had been circled on the one at the top ─ a perfect 100, accompanied by a flower circle drawn clockwise ─ whereas the others had the wrong answers circled, flower circles drawn counterclockwise when a perfect score had been reached. Considering that Kandachi was the only lefty, it was plain obvious for Conan.
Not for the FBI, though.
Bourbon had a good laugh about it.
"It looks like we're the only ones who noticed," he had said, his sharp gaze causing Conan to jump backwards. "Isn't that right, Conan-kun?"
He supposed he had not done a good job pretending otherwise, and he had been staring at the culprit for too long ─ or at least, long enough for Amuro to realize it. But he did not need to think of a proper response, for the better or the worse, since he had gone back to make fun of Jodie and Camel, blatantly pointing out how unreliable they were for not realizing something this obvious. Camel had pipped in before his coworker, irritated like never before, could say anything she shouldn't, claiming that they were only on vacation.
"If you're finished enjoying the sights, I wish you'd get out…"
Gradually, Bourbon's face began to turn, until their eyes finally met. Conan's hand slowly lowered from where it had been cupping his mouth, lips pressing together.
For a single heartbeat, nobody said anything.
"... of my Japan."
Sighing, his head dipped forward. "Zero," he uttered. His lips twitched upwards, and a chill ran down Conan's spine as he looked back at him again. "My childhood nickname really was Zero."
The boy's eyes widened slightly wider, as if to take all the man in front of him in.
"You seem to have the wrong idea about me."
And just as the implications were sinking in, Amuro promptly stood back up to join the rest. Conan's gaze did not follow him until a considerable amount of time later, face clammy with cold sweat, trembling limbs barely even capable of turning him around, to watch him explain his deduction to everyone else.
Rooted on his spot, Conan felt himself frown. I was so sure about it, he thought. Especially after what he just said to those FBI investigators.
That conviction as he told them to get out of Japan ─ his Japan… He had really thought it was the confirmation he had been looking for. The proof that he was no mere Black Organization member, but a protector of Japan's safety and order.
The Public Security Bureau.
His brother would never befriend a criminal ─ but it certainly was plausible that he would get along with a Security Police also infiltrating the organization. It made sense! From what he had mentioned the other night, Shinichi had gotten to the same conclusion, so it was not far-fetched to think they had become allies because of that, until that happened.
That moment of weakness Conan had spotted, however brief it had been, had never left his mind ever since. Even though he was supposed to be a logical person, and he knew more than anyone else that it made no sense to judge by appearances only… Conan still did indulge in that one, dangerous thought. That, maybe, Amuro was not the cold-blooded murderer that he had been led to believe. That, maybe, his brother had not trusted the wrong person, after all.
Maybe everything had been just a massive misunderstanding.
"Just remember this, Conan. Whatever you do, never believe that man's words."
Conan's feet involuntarily took him backwards, swayed by the dizzying realization of what he had just done. I thought he'd help us avoid the worst if we explained the situation… But he's not.
Gritting his teeth, he approached Jodie, tugging into her sleeve to gather her attention.
Barely even waiting for any response, he asked, words rushed and stumbling with each other, "Why did you call Shibuya-sensei last night?"
"We were supposed to go drinking," she replied.
Conan let it sink a little, then breathed out and shook his head, trying to assure himself that everything was just his old plain bad luck, that not even he would have planned it all to such an extent. FBI agent or not, it was perfectly normal for Jodie to invite a good friend to have some fun, and it certainly did not have to be schemed by Bourbon. Or Vermouth.
"It's strange, though," Jodie said as an afterthought. "Natsuko emailed me, but she said she didn't remember it." Conan froze. "But the message was on her phone and she can be pretty forgetful… Is something wrong, Conan-kun?"
The boy opened his mouth to explain that, yes, everything was wrong.
"Is that right, Investigator Jodie Starling?" But it wasn't his voice what filled the air, but Bourbon. His eyelids had dropped slightly, as if bored by just looking at her. "Please pay attention. I'm trying to reveal who did that to your teacher friend."
While it might have worked for the two agents he currently talked with, that did not serve to capture the little boy's attention. Bourbon's words simply caressed his ears, dissolving into incoherent nonsense before they could even reach his brain, currently overflowed by thoughts regarding another matter altogether.
Camel had lent her his phone to call her friend, remembered Conan, because her battery had drained by then. Not a wild conclusion to arrive at, since anyone would see that, whether for work or other matters all together, Jodie used her phone quite a lot. Meaning that it would be likely dead by the time night drew near. Someone might have stolen Natsuko's phone, which would explain why the woman did not remember ever doing it herself.
She hired Bourbon as a detective, thought the kid. It'd be easy for him to do so.
For what purpose? He certainly didn't know exactly, but he could guess what the whole thing was about. There's still one thing he's trying to find out, Conan thought. Of course, I'll protect the secret with everything I have.
But Conan did not even know the true extent of his scheme, so he had little faith in his ability to keep Bourbon in the dark for much longer.
I need to assume he will succeed. And think of a way to avoid the worst.
Him figuring out Akai was alive was only a matter of time, and the involvement of that traitor Singani, who had once forged so many deaths without the Organization's knowledge, would be the next assumption Bourbon would make. Taking all of it into consideration, it was only natural that he would hide out in Kudo Shinichi's abandoned house ─ unfortunately, it made sense. Way too much sense.
After Akai, his brother and his parents would follow. Probably Ai, who lived next door, as well ─ the list went on and on, yet Conan did not feel comfortable keeping count of every potential candidate to be dragged to this mess.
I won't let him find out, he resolved. No matter what it takes…
I'll set things right. Just the way they used to be.
"It's simple, isn't it, Conan-kun?"
Conan blinked dazedly back to reality, focusing back on the organization member that had just talked to him, in a room full of people.
"Y-Yeah!" Not that he had any idea what they were discussing. Bourbon remained silent, expecting to elaborate. He inwardly groaned, adding a tentative, "You… mean the blood, right?"
The circles had undoubtedly been warped to conceal the splattered blood with the red ink from the pen Natsuko had been using ─ he fervently hoped that was what they had been talking about. But the blank, multiple stares that did not leave, rather intensified with time, were clearly stating otherwise.
Even though it was tempting to scramble away to take cover under a desk or something, he resisted.
"He's a little confused." Bourbon chuckled, almost amicably ─ almost. "I meant that knowing the culprit's identity was simple."
"Ah, I knew that." Conan said, laughing nervously. "The culprit is left-handed."
He recovered, smiling as if nothing had occurred, and drew a circle in the air, with his finger spinning counter-clockwise. "A left-handed person's swirl would be counter-clockwise. Just like the culprit's…" Then, he approached Kandachi, looking up at him innocently. "I noticed you're the only lefty here."
Like any other criminal he had encountered so far, Kandachi gasped indignantly, but as with every single one of those same instances, it wasn't of any use. Bourbon had taken over the deduction in a matter of seconds, pointed out every bit of irrefutable proof Conan had mused over before, and soon, Kandachi had run out of excuses. As a result, he was forced to confess to the crime.
She had laughed ─ that had been the motive. That alone had made him so irrationally furious that he had lost the ability to think and, before he knew it, Natsuko's head had already been bleeding so badly. Certainly, not the motive Conan had expected to hear today ─ so lousy, so bland. It was a wonder how this man had not received some professional help with his poor anger management before he got to this point. But then again, just by looking at him, the boy supposed he should have expected something of that sort.
Besides, it meant the case was finally done with, so he wasn't complaining.
Not that he would stay around long enough to see the police taking him away. Before anything could be said or done, another teacher had bursted inside. Pale-faced, absolutely terrified.
"E-Excuse me!" she yelled, a hint of urgency in her voice. "The hospital just called! Shibuya-sensei's condition has worsened, and her life is in danger!"
It left Conan with absolutely no time to properly address the situation, or even process it to the faintest degree. All he had gotten to do was bolt off and chase Jodie all over the school's unpopulated hallways.
Detective Takagi blinked owlishly at their retreating forms, the light, accidental brush of Camel's clothes against his own serving as a shock back to reality. He got nothing out but a startled yelp, and some incoherent babbling, obviously failing to keep the FBI agent from hurrying to follow his coworker.
Why would the school be informed about this? he wondered. Typically, immediate family members would be contacted first…
"Uh, Detective Takagi, is it?"
Takagi whirled around in surprise. Behind him was a woman, who he recognized as the one they had all met previously. She was just standing there, shifting her weight from one foot to another, wearing the same worried expression from earlier. Anxiously, she peered over her shoulder to confirm that the inspector, alongside every other individual related to the newly solved case, was too preoccupied with the recently identified culprit for anything else.
Amuro silently made his way outside. Nobody paid attention to him.
The woman had shuffled closer, whispering, "About the boy you were asking about just the other day…" She gestured to the man in the tracksuit, currently sighing in relief. Likely because it was now free from suspicion ─ from that case, for the record. "He was in Sugamoto-sensei PE class last year."
"Eh? Really?"
"Takagi-kun." He flinched, then slowly turned around to meet Megure's raised eyebrow. "What are you doing? Take him away."
"Y-Yes!"
Uttering no further complaint, he scrambled towards Kandachi so that he could finish his job. Later, he reasoned, he could stop by to speak with the teacher who had just been mentioned, even though he had a feeling that this would only lead to another dead end.
"Rough week?"
As quick as the raise of his head had been, it had paled in comparison to the scowl, having settled onto his features the instant those words had reached his ears ─ deepening the moment he caught a glimpse of that one smirk that irritated him so badly, especially when he was the prime target of it.
"Funny," he uttered a snark that wasn't so gentle in his afflicted throat. Shinichi regretted it immediately, his fingers instinctively reaching up to brush the bandages wrapped around his neck, as if they could magically rub away the pain if they tried hard enough.
This earned him a second, slightly more serious look coming from Bourbon. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Definitely have been better," Shinichi admitted in a hoarse whisper, fingers going lax against the healing wound, but not quite leaving yet. "The doctor said it'll take a while to heal, but I guess it's better than dying."
Bourbon's eyes barely even left, squinting further on his form, so the boy smiled and shrugged, hoping to put an end to his case. As it was, he was already running late, and Shiho would probably be annoyed if he idled around any longer ─ or wouldn't care at all. It would go either way with her.
"I heard you were chasing a serial killer," Bourbon added. "I assume he attacked you?"
Shinichi paused before answering, "No. He tried to stab himself." His frown became prominent, his hand curling around his own throat. "I somehow managed to slash my throat in my attempt to prevent it."
It was not an everyday thing to see confusion flicker on Bourbon's face. Shinichi smiled.
"Fortunately, it wasn't too deep," he said. "But, yeah. It was a close call. They said I was lucky."
"You went through all this trouble for someone who's likely to get the death penalty either way?" Bourbon sounded amazed, in a way. "Why would you do something so pointless?"
Shinichi's lips drew a thin line, then moved. "Sentencing someone to death is way beyond my jurisdiction. Besides…" Solemnly, his eyes slid closed. "If it's about saving a life, then it's not pointless at all."
First came the slight widening of Bourbon's, a wide range of emotions crossing, one after the other, all over his face. They flashed by too quickly for any of them to be deciphered by the high school detective ─ everything had just vanished at his next heartbeat as that gaze ceased to be, hidden by eyelids drooping down. That smirk came forward, finally a familiar expression for Shinichi to read.
"You're going to get yourself killed if you go on like this," said Bourbon. Shinichi's mouth hung open and ready to argue. "You're an idealist. Just a kid that thinks he can do anything, and that his soccer skills are all he needs to keep himself alive."
Shinichi's glowering was all the response he got. Bourbon walked closer, placed a hand over his shoulder, and smiled ─ a strange shimmer taking over, as if he was gazing down at something too far away for Shinichi to see, or even understand.
A slip of paper was presented to him, leaving Shinichi to stare back perplexedly.
"Meet me at this place tomorrow morning," he said. Then, noticing the detective squinting at his scribbling, he added, "I'd be the same as a murderer if I let you die, wouldn't I, Shinichi-kun?"
His head snapped back up, eyes twinkling. "I'll be training with a Secret Police officer?" he muttered, as if unable to believe it. The lack of response did not matter as the lack of denial prevailed, too. A broad grin stretched all over his face. "Sweet! Thank you a lot, Bourbon-"
Bourbon stared back, confused by his sudden pause. "So, uh…" The grin turned a little awkward, his finger nervously scratching his cheek. "Am I still supposed to call you Bourbon?"
"I don't mind if you do."
"How unfair. You know my name, don't you?"
He hesitated for the briefest of moments. Eventually, he shrugged.
"You can call me Furuya, if you want."
Woken up by a jolt of pain, Shinichi brought his hand back. A hiss was ready on his lips as he tried to do some control damage, peering down at the tiniest speck of blood gushing from an unseen open wound at his digit, once caught in the metal teeth. Uttering a curse of some sort under his breath, he glowered at his backpack and violently tugged on the zipper, the sole culprit of his suffering.
"Language, Meitantei!"
He paid no mind to the yells coming from the adjacent room, only being generous enough to grace him with a grunt. This is what I get for getting distracted, he thought. Got to pull myself together…
But his mind hardly left those thoughts alone, popping back into existence as he slung the bag over his shoulder.
I was such a gullible idiot back then. Shinichi shook his head firmly, stepping out of his borrowed room and into the living room. Looking back at it, I should've known.
Furuya-san is not a man to be trusted.
If that was his name, to begin with.
"Trouble again?"
This time, he chose not to ignore the magician who was standing outside his bedroom doorway, arms crossed, watching him from afar. His eyebrows arched, clearly conveying his question without the need to be vocal about it ─ what was he doing, was probably it.
"Yeah, kinda. I'm off to Beika for a few days."
It wouldn't be a long trip, nor would he be out for such an extended amount of time, so there was no need to pack further than what was necessary. At most, he figured it would be only a few days before everything settled down, though that may have just been wishful thinking. He hoped that, by the end of his self-imposed mission, peace would reign over once more.
Kuroba stared, then stared some more. Shinichi raised his eyebrow.
The retired thief looked away. "Do you… need my help or something?"
Shinichi eyed him quizzically.
"I see you don't." A huff later, Kuroba had disappeared back inside his room, only the lazy wave of a hand making it to the detective's eyes. "Try not to get killed."
"I'll… try not to."
Unsure of what to make of it, Shinichi observed the empty corridor. Eventually, he had to brush it off to utter a small, "See you later," and finally leave as intended.
With a soft click, the door had been shut, and a deep silence descended in its wake. It sank over Kaito's shoulders, threatening to engulf him whole if he wasn't careful enough ─ pulling him down to drown in the unyielding stillness.
He plopped onto his bed, his father's smug smile peeking out from the wall before him ─ as if inviting him to that secret room he now rarely visited, where raven black clothes he had only used once probably sat at the corner nowadays, collecting dust. His pristine white suit, his favorite, was stuffed somewhere in there, waiting to be discarded at some point when Kaito gathered enough courage to ─ which would probably never happen.
What had once been a secret passage for a night full of adrenaline and thrill under the silver glow of the moon was nothing but a vague memory of what it had been like.
Heaving a sigh, he averted his gaze.
"Akai-san! Akai-san! This is bad, Bourbon and Vermouth-!" Just as he reached the doorway leading to the kitchen, the young child stopped in his tracks. He stared, gaze dulling at the sight, then blinked several times. "What? You're still here?"
Sitting right next to Subaru, the target for his glaring nodded, a smirk dominating his features, regardless. "It's good to see you too, son."
He even had the audacity to wink ─ Conan concealed a scowl by turning his head away from him.
"Shouldn't you be on a trip to America right now?" he muttered, deliberately ignoring his presence to sit on the other side of the FBI agent ─ currently silent, a single green eye peeking open to gaze at him in sheer amusement. "Or do they send trophies by mail nowadays?"
"An hour of delay won't hurt anybody," Yusaku assured him. "This whole situation I've been hearing about has me concerned."
Conan let out a sigh, focusing on Subaru, finally.
"Bourbon and Vermouth are now aware that Kusuda Rikumichi shot himself," informed the child, forehead scrunched up in a frown. "She tricked Camel into spilling the beans."
A light snort bubbled up Subaru's throat, Akai's smooth voice filling Conan's ears. The boy watched him, squinting in his form, before voicing, "Aren't you worried?"
"There's no point in worrying about it."
"But-!" Conan halted, realizing that his voice had risen fairly above average. Composed this time, he added, "This identity you've built... Subaru-san, it's going to fall apart any second now."
Elbows digging against the table, Akai rested his chin over his intertwined fingers. "That is exactly why I should solely focus on what's in front of me," he said. "And think about my next move."
It did not escape Conan's notice the way Akai was talking, referring to himself, disregarding his involvement altogether. Because I'm just a kid. And children should be kept well away from the crossfire, he supposed. Likely for that reason, too, the man had decided to keep him in the dark about this entire farce to begin with ─ and it would have remained that way, hadn't Conan himself figured it out entirely on his own. From the very beginning, it was a plan he had nothing to do with, and logically, it still didn't.
So I should be a good kid and stay out of it, huh?
His hands curled into fists over his pants, clutching the fabric. And his gaze, hidden by his oversized glasses, dropped slightly, biting his lip.
That did not, however, suffice to prevent his words from escaping. "I want to protect it," they rushed out, free to linger into the air as a feeble, yet clearly audible, whisper. "This plan Oniichan has worked so hard on… I want to protect it!"
"I appreciate it."
Head jerking back up, Conan spun on his chair to glance over to the doorway. Blue met blue, and a sincere smile rose to the lips of their unexpected guest.
"I really do," he said. "Thanks, Conan."
Conan stared back, unblinking at first. A faint tinge of red dusted his cheeks as he huffed, dropping back to his chair, making a point of not making eye-contact again. Shinichi, far from offended, laughed heartily.
The kid's arms hardly left their spot, anchored in front of his chest.
"How did you get here so quickly?" muttered Conan. Still not looking.
"By train?" answered Shinichi, unhelpfully. "Hey, you can't expect me to learn that Bourbon might be interested in you and wait quietly for your next call."
It made sense, but Conan wouldn't let his brother know.
"Don't be like that, Co-chan."
Settling her hands on her eldest's shoulders, a grin popped up from behind him, her voice an improvised alarm informing him of the migraine that was sure to strike in a matter of moments.
"If it wasn't for Shin-chan, Akai-san wouldn't have been able to find that particular thing you asked for."
He did turn this time, blinking owlishly in her direction. When no response beyond a sunny smile was provided, he turned to Akai. The man hardly sent him a glance back, yet the way his lips had formed that arrogant smile that was both so fitting and foreign in Okiya Subaru's face confirmed it for him.
He had gotten the information Conan had sought for ─ so quickly at that. Akai was incredibly competent, decided Conan. Terrifyingly competent, his mind echoed back, but he pretended not to hear that.
"You mentioned his nickname was Zero," Akai began. "And suggested that his given name might sound similar."
The boy nodded. "Figuring out his family name might be difficult…"
Although the evidence spoke by itself. Through methods Conan wasn't sure to ever figure out by himself, it was crystal clear that the FBI agent had gotten a grasp of that information. Briefly, he considered asking how he had done such a thing, but the answer was delivered to him without his input.
Two rigid steps forward, his shoulders tensing and his gaze narrowing ─ his brother's body language was too obvious for him to ignore.
After a pause, he asked, "Was it true?" His voice was cold and detached, as if it meant nothing to him at all. Ironically, it gave Conan the impression that it was the complete opposite. "His name is actually Furuya?"
Conan straightened up some, but besides that, did nothing.
"Furuya Rei," confirmed Akai. "Like both of you have suspected, he's a PSB agent."
Conan all but slumped over the table in relief. Contrarily, Shinichi barely moved an inch; if anything, his features hardened.
A dark, humorless snort racked the teenage detective's body. "So, he wasn't lying about that," he said, shrugging. "That's something, I suppose."
The glance his younger brother shot him barely even affected him. "He's a PSB agent, what gives?" continued Shinichi. "That doesn't mean he couldn't be a double agent."
Conan did not respond at all, though it appeared that he wanted to.
"As I was researching him, I came across something interesting," Akai continued. "A certain someone whom he seemed to know. They attended police academy together."
Shinichi's features hardly shifted. "So?"
"A man whom I have met before ─ he was an undercover PSB agent, just like him."
"Was?" parroted Conan.
"They discovered his true intentions, so had no other choice but death." The boy stiffened somewhat but made no further remarks, so Akai could continue, "Bourbon pretended to know nothing of it."
"A fellow member who's aware of his second identity would have been dangerous," mused Conan, a finger caressing his chin, nodding to himself all the while. "No matter how you look at it, it would've been fairly more beneficial for Bourbon to sell him out…"
"Maybe he has always intended to do so, but didn't get the chance to." Shinichi's face contorted in a scowl, but the small detective didn't think it was directed at anyone in the room. "I doubt he even cared about that guy."
"... I think he did."
Confused, the high schooler focused on the little boy and his slightly troubled expression.
"I can't explain it, but I got the feeling-" He cut himself short, head whipping from side to side. "No, I'm sure of it."
Too perplexed for anything else, Shinichi could only observe. That tenacity, glistering in his eyes and dripping from his words, spoke of a certainty that had once been so rare coming from him. For a person like Conan, it was even weirder that he would be this sure about something without a logical explanation that went past hunches, feelings, and the like.
But then again, at the same time, this was so like Conan that it made him laugh.
Not out loud. His lips were sealed, his body turned slightly away from his far too bright form. Closing his eyelids gently, and decided that he had heard enough for today, Shinichi made to leave.
Red shoes landed lightly. Stumbling with one another in their hurry, clumsily propelling their owner forward. Small hands gripped onto his sleeve, causing him to stop.
Looking down, he saw it again ─ Conan's determined frown. "Will you trust me?" muttered the boy. "Oniichan."
For the briefest of moments, the younger boy saw how his eyes grew ever so slightly, as if surprised for motives he couldn't understand ─ but were he to guess, he would say that, somehow, his words had unwittingly triggered some sort of distant memory, judging by how quiet he had gone afterwards. Distraught, even.
Everything shattered right away. Shinichi's forehead scrunched up again, turning his head away with a huff.
"Alright, whatever."
Conan beamed. "Thanks."
No answer was either given, nor needed. The boy spun on his heels, his gaze zeroing on those specific members of their group, who had been attentively listening, but unusually ─ and disturbingly ─ quiet this whole time. Their presence was never this unnoticeable, so it was a little worrying coming from them.
"I've been thinking about something all day long. I don't know if it's good enough, but I have a plan."
Yukiko blinked curiously, whereas Yusaku showed his interest in a smirk.
"Mom, Dad. I need your help."
It was nearing midnight when Conan opened the door, just a sliver, careful enough not to let it creak. Quietly, he poked his head inside, and his lips pressed against each other at the sight.
Shinichi was still up, yet only his silhouette stood out against the gentle moonshine. Facing the windows, motionless. Conan wondered what might have been going through his mind right now ─ though he had several candidates, there was a lot for him to ponder about.
"I know you're there, you little stalker." Conan nearly jumped out of his skin, much to the amusement of his older brother. "You can come in. I won't bite."
Conan stood, frozen for an entire second, before scoffing. "As if you could."
Yet came forward anyway, plopping down on his older brother's bed, waiting patiently for Shinichi, who still stood, unmoving, in the center of the dimly lit room.
"Ran just called. Made me promise her to bring you back home in one piece tomorrow," he said. "Had to explain to her it would probably take another day. She didn't like it."
"Sounds tough." Then, head tilting back, mumbled, as an afterthought, "Home, huh?"
Shinichi observed as his eyelids dropped gently, an indecipherable expression painted over his youthful features.
"Say," Conan said. "Has Ekoda ever felt like home to you?"
It surprised him, but he still managed to answer. "That's hard to say. I've been living there for nearly two years, so I guess so?" Awkwardly, maybe a little embarrassed, he scratched his cheek. "It… kind of feels like it."
Conan's eyes slid back open, but otherwise, nothing happened.
Home… A strange word, bearer of a meaning that has long been distorted beyond recognition. There had been a time, he reminisced, when all he wanted was to return to this place. To go back to those insignificant moments he could barely remember anymore, when it was just the two of them in this simple, boring but peaceful little world.
Exactly where he was, his old house. His only home.
Kogoro looked away in his memories, an awkward hand resting atop his head. Ran then smiled warmly as she drew nearer, embracing him tightly.
"Beika will always hold a special place in my heart." The cushion sank slightly, jerking him back to reality. "It's the home I'll surely return to one day."
Even in darkness, his brother's grin was as bright as it had always been.
"I suppose it's not a bad thing," he said. "Having more than a single place to belong to."
And as usual, it was incredibly contagious.
"It feels kinda nostalgic," commented Conan. "This house, this room…"
"Just like the good old days, huh?"
"Except for Akai-san. And Dad. Especially Dad." Annoyance pinched his face, a frown bubbling up to the surface. "Doesn't it seem to you that Akai-san has spent more nights in this house than Dad?"
"He's been staying here for a while now."
"Because he suddenly remembered he had children after one of them almost bled to death, and the other was nearly blown up by a crazed criminal."
Shinichi's smile turned awkward. "Aren't you being a little too hard on him?"
Conan squinted his eyes at him. "You're always defending him."
"I'm not defending him. But I was wondering if he might have a reason-"
"Good enough to leave us both alone in Japan?" A scoff left his lips. "I'd love to hear it."
It wasn't until a heavy silence had fallen upon them that he realized what he had done.
"Sorry," Conan whispered. "I didn't come here to rant about Dad."
"I know why you're here, but you don't have to worry about me."
That was debatable, but he omitted any further comment. On that matter, that was.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "That Bourbon betrayed you."
Shinichi sighed, as if he had been expecting that sort of question for a long time now. He sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled, noisily so, under the intense gaze of the little boy beside him. He waited patiently, however, for his words to finally be spoken.
"It couldn't be anyone but him," he said, head inclined forward. "I've told you before, didn't I? The Organization used to compile a list of all witnesses to its crimes."
Yes, he definitely wouldn't forget about that. Whether they were alive or dead, every single of them would eventually end up in that database, so Shinichi was understandably afraid that his name, Conan's, would also be on it. But it wasn't, oddly enough.
"It's confidential, but provided that you were ranked highly enough, you could easily access it," explained the older detective. "Every named member, like me, had… something like an account."
Conan blinked. "Organized crime is rather sophisticated these days."
"It was more like a way of monitoring us. If any modifications were to be made, they would know who did it," he said. "I was planning to steal the data from them, of course, but I was working on a way to do so undetected."
"You… were trying to hack the Organization system?!"
"Huh? Ah. No. Well, kind of?" He laughed at the clueless look Conan gave him. "Not directly, at least."
That did little to clear up his confusion. "I found this member… I think you've met him before." Even though a tint of something akin to guilt glimmered in that gaze of his, Conan had not the slightest idea of what was causing it. "All he wanted was to expose them. Was an expert in informatics, but there was little you could do without being a named member. So we joined forces."
Conan's eyes squinted, struggling to recall ever meeting a member like that ─ he had said they had met before, after all. Nothing ever came to mind so easily, almost bringing him to the point of giving up ─ because he would remember, right? If there was one of them who was like that…
Chocolate came first to his mind, bombs going off, flames engulfing everything in sight. The Nishitamashi Twin Towers, he recalled. "Yoshiaki Hara."
"What an impressive memory." Shinichi praised, visibly surprised. "We didn't get anywhere since I was sold out before anything could get done. From what I've heard, Hara-san was eliminated." Conan offered no answer, but his brother let out a dry chuckle, lacking humor. "I should have known he'd eventually stick his nose where it doesn't belong."
"Couldn't he have accidentally done something he shouldn't with your password and you were blamed for it?"
"Hara-san wasn't like that. He could be reckless, but only when it didn't concern anyone else apart from himself," said Shinichi. "Believe me, I know it was Furuya-san."
As if affected by an invisible force, his lips were tugged downwards.
He wanted to go home.
Fervently so ─ Shinichi brought a hand to his face, his yawn slipping past his fingers. It was getting too late for his comfort, evidenced by the tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes. Any reasonable person wouldn't have been up and about, and the prospect of Conan waking up in the middle of the night to realize he was not home was slightly disquieting, but what could he do? Besides hurrying up and getting the last bit of his job done.
All that was left was to update the status of that one guy he had helped out today, changing it from 'alive' to 'dead', and he would be all done.
His eyes, dragged down by exhaustion, opened just a sliver wider as he typed out his password into the computer.
"That's an unusual one." Shinichi nearly jumped out of his skin. "That password of yours."
He spun around so quickly that he almost fell off his chair. "Furuya-san!" he screeched. Furuya merely smirked, amused. "Don't do that."
"Which one? Sneaking up on you or looking at your password?"
"None."
He apologized lightly, but Shinichi did not believe it was genuine enough. He shrugged it off, and proceeded to continue doing what he had been intending to, making a point of ignoring his presence.
"But it was your fault, too," continued Furuya. "Haven't I told you before? You're not supposed to let your guard down."
"I had school in the morning, then soccer practice afterwards," he huffed, rubbing his eyes. "Then I got that grueling mission, and a completely unrelated murder case that I had to solve before I could finish the rest. So forgive me if I'm a little distracted today."
Furuya crossed his arms over his chest, a severe expression making itself known. "I may forgive you, but any other member might not."
Shinichi paused typing, but did not look at him.
"Just the slightest mistake could cause your name and that of those around you to end up on that list you despise so passionately," Furuya said. "This is the life you signed up for when you first dove into this."
At first, there was no answer.
Then a sigh left his system. "I know," the high school detective said. "I can't afford to make any mistakes."
"Little did I know then that I had already made the greatest and most crucial mistake of my entire life."
Sighing, Shinichi leaned slightly forward. Shadows drowned his expression from sight, leaving nothing but a dark, hollow facade behind.
"Not long after that… You know what happened," Shinichi said. He was clearly making a massive effort not to let the frustration, that pent-up anger from slipping onto his tone. "Apparently, the list was deleted from their database. By me."
Conan sucked in a sharp breath. "Or, rather, by someone else, under your name… Your password..."
His eyes began to widen, inch by inch, with each piece falling into place in the vast mental puzzle he had been trying to solve for so long.
Only Bourbon had known about the password ─ only he could have done it. The person his older brother had trusted so much, had even felt close, not unlike a friend… He had stabbed him in the back, nearly gotten him killed. Had sent him down this path of fear and hiding, thriving to dismantle that nefarious organization from the afterlife.
Everything that happened to him was because of Bourbon. Because of that man named Furuya Rei. ─ the mystery he had sought to unravel was there, solved, and in front of his eyes to bare his fangs at.
Yet, the last piece of the puzzle refused to click.
Conan's fists rested on his lap, curled tightly enough to tremble.
"Did I make a mistake, too?" he wondered, in a faint whisper.
Again, a deep intake of air filled the silence. "I don't know," admitted Shinichi.
Discouraged, Conan's gaze dropped to his feet.
"But I've said it before. I trust you, Conan." Startled, it shot back up, meeting with that familiar, reassuring smile that always seemed to work, no matter what. "And I trust your instincts as well."
Conan struggled to come up with something to say and failed horribly.
"You've always had that skill," the other boy beat him to it, gently squeezing his shoulder. "That ability to see the truth through deception that extends far beyond what anyone can see."
Before long, he couldn't keep it up. The younger brother averted his gaze, focusing back on his lap, and refusing to look up. Such was the sight that it stole a bark of laughter from the older, but since he wasn't finished, he didn't let go. And added,
"It's as if you could see into the very souls of others, and that's amazing, Conan."
Conan still refused to glance back ─ painfully shy as ever, I see.
"Believe or not, I learned it from Mom."
"Ah, you mean that thing she used to brag about all the time?" Shinichi remembered. "That thing about looking at people's eyes and magically knowing what's wrong? Scary."
"I wish it was more effective," admitted the boy. "It could have spared us some trouble."
No detectives were required to know about whom he was talking about. "I would be shocked if you could tell what Vermouth is thinking."
Groaning in frustration, he shook his head from side to side. "I don't know what to believe," he admitted, a faint growl escaping his lips as he debated with himself the problem at hand. "She's cold, cunning, dangerous…"
"But?"
Conan calmed down slowly, all other sounds fading out from existence. And suddenly, it seemed as if this child wasn't there with him anymore, but somewhere engulfed in memories where he couldn't possibly reach.
Eventually, he said, "It seemed as though she no longer wanted to be in the Organization, but had no other choice." His frown deepened, features hardening. "Last time we talked, she mentioned that there's somebody she wishes to bring back."
"Bring… back?"
A chill rushed down Shinichi's spine, shooting through his veins and spreading that unsettling coldness all over.
"Hey, hey… You don't mean…" Conan blinked at him, cluelessly. So, he continued, "Remember the story that Dad and Mom told us about? About those serial killings at Martha's Vineyard… And their mother, who is said to show up…"
The boy gave him an odd look, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "... every year on the day of her death…" It faded over time, alongside with the color from his features. "... appearing not to have aged… at all."
Her words echoed, loud and clear, as if he had actually been there when he first had encountered them,
"We can be both God and the Devil. Since we're trying to raise the dead against the stream of time."
Conan felt a strange urge to hug himself, shielding himself against the cold that had suddenly descended upon his shoulders.
"No way," he muttered. "That's impossible, right?"
His brother did not seem to be holding up better than Conan himself.
"Let's just go to sleep."
"Yeah. Let's."
Shakily still, Conan stood up, and Shinichi watched him make a move for the door.
Briefly, he considered asking him if he wanted to stay, knowing all too well how prone this boy was to nightmares. And truly, there was no way Shinichi could blame him for it. After what they had just discussed, he wasn't sure he would be able to fall asleep peacefully. No matter how unsettlingly mature and prodigiously intelligent, Conan was only eight, even if he often had a hard time remembering it.
But he cut himself off in the nick of time. He wouldn't want to hurt his pride.
To his surprise, the boy stopped just before leaving.
"Say, before I go…" he muttered. Shinichi made a sound, trying to let him know he was listening. "What was your password?"
"Huh?" Shinichi blinked. Conan turned back around, seriously expecting an answer. "Why?"
"Just curious."
"It's an interesting choice of password. Is it meant to work as a reminder of your convictions?"
"It… goes a little beyond that."
"No way."
"Eh?"
"What's the use of a password if you know about it?"
"I hardly doubt you're using it for something else."
"I could."
"You're annoying."
"It's a word I haven't heard for quite a while…"
"That's how you ask for a favor?"
"... Please?"
"But it's a special one for me."
"Eight characters. Do your best."
"What?! That could be about anything!"
"Not my problem."
Shinichi's eyes sparkled with mirth. Conan had puffed out his cheeks, drawing a sharp breath.
"Because, somehow, hearing it fuels me with the courage I need to keep moving."
"Oniichan!"
Shinichi's grin widened.
"Still won't."
"Stingy."
If it had already been pitch black outside by the time they managed to close the case for good, one could imagine how unbelievably late it was when Takagi was free to get inside his car, and sigh loudly. After a long conversation with one of the suspects to their prior case, Sugamoto Yoshiharu, who had been gracious enough to accept his request, even though he had been detained so long as to give his testimony to the authorities.
Takagi wished he could say that it had been an enlightening one, but in reality, it was the exact opposite.
The child with that couple at the fireworks festival used to study here, at this Haido Elementary School. For a single year only, apparently, before he had to leave, abruptly, offering no explanation. Sugamoto-sensei mentioned he was said to transfer from one school to another all over the country. No one had found it strange and had assumed that his parents' job probably forced him to move around a lot.
"I remember him well, though." Sugamoto's smile had widened as he reminisced. "And his athletic abilities that fairly surpassed those of his peers, as well as those of the upper classes. He was a serious little one, so he stood out from the rest a lot."
"Have you ever noticed anything strange about him?" Takagi had asked.
Sugamoto had paused to think.
"Sometimes, it'd seem like he was troubled by something," he had said. "He seemed to be in a perpetual state of anxiety, too… A serious case of it."
"Anxiety?"
"Yeah. He was always so tense, peering over his shoulder as if someone were about to get him, or something," Sugamoto said, frowning lightly. "I kept trying to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn't say anything, so I was really worried about him."
He had said nothing back then, but that comment had gotten him to raise an eyebrow. What he had said made it difficult to convince himself that there wasn't an ulterior motive for this boy to constantly move schools. It was almost as if he had been actively pursued by someone else.
"But I guess it was for nothing. Never would I have believed he would become so successful afterwards ─ famous worldwide, too!" Sugamoto's smile had faltered, stricken by a terrible memory, or so Takagi had inferred. "It was unfortunate, though. His death was a bitter pill to swallow."
"I understand. Dealing with a child's death is incredibly difficult."
Sugamoto had looked at him as if he had grown a second head.
"He was in his mid-thirties when he died."
On the verge of tearing his own hair from his scalp, Takagi grasped the lone photo, forgotten on the passenger seat alongside several other files. He held it to his eyes, to be frowned at from close.
By no means had he been supposed to get a hold of it ─ this photograph that had unexpectedly shown up on his desk one morning, portraying the boy he had been desperately trying to get a lead on. Yet, even though he knew he shouldn't have, Takagi used it anyway. Showing up at every school hoping that a teacher would recognize him had been his only way.
Except, his mind still could not get a secure grasp on the information he had just been soaked in. He had seen him ─ small, timid, and definitely school aged. Not a thirty-something year old man ─ especially, not a dead one.
But looking at the photograph again, he should have known something was off. The colors had noticeably faded over the years, and the gaze of that boy wasn't quite right. While the one from the festival had been bright eyed, admiring the world with awe, this one was sharper, possessor of a blue piercing gaze that, hadn't Takagi known better, would have made him believe he was being stared at.
Come to think of it, doesn't he look a little like Conan-kun? Sort of, but there was some resemblance. Also dark haired, the falling of his nose and the cut of the jaw were similar too. There was also, of course, that aforementioned look he had seen several times already, only that hidden behind thick glasses.
His name sounds familiar, too. Where did I hear it? Sugamoto-sensei said he was famous, didn't he?
Takagi's eyes hardly ever left the photograph, even while pondering about it.
Kuroba Toichi…
His ears caught a weird noise, faint yet somehow loud in the quiet night. It made him shiver, even though it wasn't cold ─ a chilling presence settling onto his shoulders, a burning sensation drilling into the back of his neck.
Takagi felt his breath tremble, his wide eyes finally slipping from the photograph to the side-view mirror.
There was a flash of blue.
He spun around. Raspy breaths filled the silence, his eyes darting about the parking lot. Yet, his search was fruitless; aside from himself and the darkness, no one else was to be found in that forebodingly empty parking lot.
Takagi pressed a hand to his forehead.
Maybe I should get a day off.
With that thought, he fumbled to get his keys, leaving the place in record time.
A/N:
CherryGirl 21-6: Ooh, London Arc, right? Feels as if it happened a long time ago…
shahralSAH699: Glad you've been liking it so far! That's an interesting scenario to think about… It kind of suits him, doesn't it? Cool name, too ;)