File One Hundred and Forty-Eight: A Late-Night Game of Chess
The train ride back to Ekoda had been by no means eventful. With the time approaching one thirty, as indicated by the small numbers in the upper left corner of his phone screen, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone that there weren't many passengers around. And so the silence that descended, just minutes from their destination, was nothing short of massive.
Yet somehow, the newly received text seemed to scream at him, loud enough to cause hearing damage, as if it had a voice of its own.
Here Shinichi had thought it wouldn't hurt to tell Ran that a certain little detective wasn't dying in a ditch five towns away and was safe with him. He thought he would save her a trip to the nearest police station ─ and the subsequent heart attack when she found out that Conan had left with a man he didn't know and that Professor Agasa, who he was supposed to stay with, wasn't at home.
Her answer had been far from what he had predicted.
"I already knew that," she had texted him back.
Shinichi took his time to read it, then reread it, before answering, "Really?"
"I heard it from Conan-kun."
The worst part was that he wasn't sure if he should be surprised or not. In fact, he was surprised that he had fallen for it at all.
For Conan, it was out of character to worry Ran so unnecessarily. Obviously, he must have secretly texted her about staying at Shinichi's place for the night, making the part where he told her she was staying at Agasa's when he wasn't in town a lie ─ another allegation that had yet to be proven true, now that he thought about it.
That little demon, thought Shinichi, eyebrow trembling. I totally fell for it.
Speaking of which, what was he doing, for him to be this quiet for such an unsettlingly long span of time? Shinichi didn't really have to think too hard about it, because as soon as the question had emerged, a light weight had flopped right onto him, just a little above his belly button.
His eyebrows furrowed as he placed a hand on the back of his little brother's neck.
Did he just want to tag along? Shinichi thought. He gazed down at the child slumped against him, for long enough for his features to soften. That idiot. He could have just told me.
For now, Shinichi could only sigh, then gently push the little boy away. Conan's head lolled slightly on the train seat, but other than that and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he didn't move. As simple and banal as the scene was, it didn't fail to steal a small smile from Shinichi's face.
You nodded off that time too, didn't you? The smile faded, but it never disappeared. It took on a kind of rueful tinge, though ─ the image clear as though it had happened just yesterday, instead of the six years it had actually been.
He, two-year-old Conan, fast asleep across a train seat and on his mother's lap. His father, standing beside Shinichi himself, without saying a word, as if he feared the wrath of his wife that would befall him if Conan stirred even once.
To an outsider, they must have looked like a young couple returning home after a long vacation with their children ─ she had worn a large sun hat, he a flat cap, both had dark shades on ─ but, Shinichi had known then, they would be wrong.
Because it had been hard to see the marks where the tears had dried on his mother's skin. Or how distracted his father's gaze looked as he stared back at his own reflection, alongside those dark bags that had grown enough to gain a conscience of their own to poke from under the sunglasses that couldn't hope to hide them any longer. From Shinichi's eyes, in any case.
Maybe it was because he wasn't any better. Shinichi remembered how pointless it had been, to try to tear his thoughts away from that cold gravestone. How impossible it had been not to be reminded of the dance of the flames and the chanting of the sea; of that macabre spectacle that had still been fresh in his mind even three years later. One that would probably remain so for years to come.
He also recalled being snapped out of his thoughts by a giggle ─ one so soft that could as well have been the low hum of the engine, or even the whisper of the wind. But it had been none of those things, as evidenced by the ghost of a smile that had kissed his mother's lips.
"Say, Yusaku," she had said, gazing down at her youngest with warm eyes ─ filled with a misplaced sense of melancholy that Shinichi couldn't explain. "Doesn't he remind you of someone else?"
It had taken Shinichi a full second to process her words, and even longer to scrunch his forehead up to show him his disapproval ─ more out of instinct than anything else, because Shinichi was failing spectacularly in seeing what she was referring to.
He hadn't gotten a chance to ask, alerted by the large hand landing on his head. "She means me," he had heard his father whisper back at him.
In search of answers, Shinichi had turned to him. But the man had averted his gaze, directing it instead to the window in front of him. It had been hard not to groan.
"Yu-chan here is the same as this boy," Yukiko said, absently playing with Conan's stray strands of hair. "Just a few minutes on the train and he falls asleep right away." Again, she giggled. "It's kind of cute, isn't it?"
Well, Shinichi certainly wouldn't know. But what he did know, and had only discovered after slowly craning his head where his male progenitor stood at his side, was that Yusaku wasn't entirely comfortable with the topic their conversation was heading to. As proof, he was trying so hard to pretend there wasn't the subtlest hint of pink dusting on his cheeks ─ a bit too hard to be believable. What an odd sight, Shinichi had thought in amazement.
"I can't help it ─ I've always been like that," Yusaku had eventually explained. "Especially back when I was about Conan's age."
"How do you know that?" Shinichi had asked, his head tilted slightly to one side.
His lips had curved into a fond, yet incredibly rare, little smile.
"Ekoda. Ekoda. Please exit to your right."
Shinichi liked to pretend he hadn't been spooked out of his skin by the sudden, loud voice buzzing out of the intercom. He had ─ of course he had ─ but since there were no witnesses to testify against him, was free to clear his throat and pretend nothing had happened at all.
Perhaps he'd been a little jumpy lately ─ jumpier than usual, that was. But that was nobody's business but his own.
Unlike him, it had hardly bothered Conan at all. A head carelessly tilted back, soft snoring rushing out from a wide open mouth ─ Shinichi's breath left him in a huff, warmed by a healthy dose of envy festering from deep inside.
Kids have it easy, he thought. It was a lie, Shinichi was aware. Not for Conan ─ it would never be true for him. But just for tonight, as he watched the doors slide open and leaned forward to pick his little brother up, he'd allow himself to believe it.
"I have the faintest of memories," his father's words from that time unexpectedly came to mind. "Of being on a train, too exhausted to keep my eyes open, and finally giving in to sleep."
By the time they had gotten off the train, even the urge to roll his eyes had vanished ─ for Conan had curled up into his chest, as if drawing closer for warmth. Without realizing it himself, a tender smile had tugged at Shinichi's lips.
Together, they stepped out of the station; guided by the faint glow of the stars as their only companion.
"Then I'd wake up and I wouldn't be on that train anymore. I'd be blinking at the moon above me, from someone else's arms."
Back then, Shinichi had knitted his eyebrows. "How are you so sure it wasn't a kidnapping attempt or something?"
His mother had quickly hissed at him, "Shinichi!" Which, predictably, had fallen on deaf ears. He recalled his father's trembling shoulders, which even though he now recognized as a kind of choked laugh, had twelve-year-old Shinichi feeling incredibly lost.
So, he had continued to argue. "I mean, you don't really remember who that was, do you?"
Yusaku had shaken his head ─ which hadn't come off as a surprise for Shinichi. No matter how much of a vast memory his father could possess, at his alleged age, it was already impressive he could remember that much as it was.
"Maybe it was your father?" Yukiko had suggested, though a bit uncertain herself. "Or maybe your mother."
He had lifted his head, his eyes somewhere above his wife's head ─ contemplating everything and nothing at the same time.
"Yeah," he had said, quietly enough to make Shinichi believe, even if for less than a second, that he was there, and not somewhere else ─ somewhere far, far away. "That could be it."
A low grunt caught Shinichi off guard. It had been so quiet that he hadn't immediately recognized when a second, more pronounced one drew his attention to the child nestled in his arms and he found, much to his utter bewilderment, his face scrunched up in a frown.
Before he could even react, Conan had sucked a shaky breath in.
"Conan-?"
Abruptly, all the air vacated Shinichi's lungs in a single, unintentional exhalation. And then he was left, struggling to find his footing back, along with why an elbow had, completely out of the blue, dug into his sternum.
He wasn't given time to consider it for long, but at the very least, he could brace himself before the next strike ─ and with that, came the realization that it wasn't just a random case of assault to his person; it was a deliberate, forceful push against his chest.
A whimper escaped Conan's lips, and Shinichi's heart sank somewhere between his stomach and knees, haunted by the sight that met him ─ a pallid little face contorted in pain, eyelids scrunched shut, a bead of perspiration slowly making its way down-
"Get… away…"
He'd later admit having let his guard down a bit, for an instant far too brief, yet enough for a little foot to wedge itself between his ribs. He regained his grip as soon as it began to slip, curled over the fussing child, and hugged him with all the strength he could muster.
In the blink of an eye, the struggle waned ─ Conan's body gradually melted into his older brother's embrace as his eyes, still blurred with the faintest remnants of sleep, fluttered open.
He could swear being able to hear the turn of wheels within Conan's head, no doubt fighting to understand the violent swift in his surroundings. Shinichi did not comment on that, instead sinking to his knees with a weary sigh.
Conan's head lifted to blink up to him, and the slight widening of his eyes told him he finally pieced together what was going on.
Once then, he slumped back with a dashed expression painted all over his face. "I'm not making a good case, am I?" he grumbled.
"Not quite," Shinichi admitted.
"I hope you know I'm fully willing to pretend this didn't happen."
"Yeah, I know."
Once again, he felt Conan's gaze ─ his judgment clear through narrowed eyes. Maybe it was because he hadn't promised to do the same, or at least as explicitly as he'd like. Shinichi wouldn't mention the incident again, that was for sure ─ forgetting about it was a different matter altogether that didn't exactly depend on him.
He rose back to his feet without another word, which earned his brother's stare ─ or pout, on the contrary to what Conan would say ─ of utter disapproval. But he pretended not to notice and resumed his way as if nothing had happened at all; his gaze fixated on the road ahead without straying away in the slightest, his lips pressed tightly against each other, as if afraid a word would escape them without his consent.
It took a few blocks afterward for Conan to give in, and Shinichi felt him relax a little. A pointy chin rested on his shoulder and small arms circled around his shoulder. Again, Shinichi decided to omit any sort of commentary. Better not to push things, he decided.
"He looks like him," Conan whispered, all of a sudden.
"Who?" Shinichi asked.
Conan's hug tightened ever so imperceptibly. For a beat, Shinichi was sure that this was where their conversation died off. But then, "Someone I met on the roof," Conan said. "A man with a scar over his right eye."
Fervently, he hoped that the boy didn't notice the slight stumble on his feet, even though he was absolutely certain he did.
The boy's voice came out muffled, from where he had buried his face against Shinichi's shoulder. "He was… imposing."
Shinichi chuckled. "You mean scary, right?" And smiled at the huff of hot air against his neck as Conan huffed, turning his head away without verbal input. "Hey, it's fine to be scared. Fear keeps you alive, they say."
Conan fell silent, oddly thoughtful for some reason. "Try to get scared more often, then," he murmured.
"Well… You're already rather helpful in that regard."
"Shut up."
Shinichi's lips quirked upward, but wisely obeyed.
Closing the entrance door behind his back, Kaito allowed himself to sigh.
Finally, he thought. I'm finally home.
It had taken him a few hours to make sure that absolutely nobody was following him, and when he had finally ascertained that it was alright to head back home, it had already been too late to catch the last train to Ekoda ─ cue to him carrying his weary soul back home by foot.
Despite everything, though, the grin on his face had yet to wash over. Oh, how had he missed it. The preparation of a magic show, the thrill of a well-executed trick, the gentle, silvery glow of the moon shining down on him ─ the chill of a nightly breeze caressing from where he stood over a tall building, the delighted smirk of his favorite little detective that had pieced everything together.
He had thought that a smaller audience would be a problem, but it had taken one glimpse of those wide, brilliant blue eyes to change his mind. It almost made the murder attempts worth everything so far. Almost.
Shinichi didn't greet him upon his arrival, and actually, it took the magician a little more effort than usual to find him. When he did, he was greeted by the soy sauce scented confusion of a lively kitchen, where the great detective paced around, frowning at a random piece of paper that, had anyone else been there, they would probably been convinced that he was trying to piece together a complex code to stop a bomb or something.
But Kaito knew those were the notes Aoko had written for him. And even though she could be mildly complex as it was, all there was was the oyakodon recipe Shinichi had been trying to master for a while.
"Kindly do not burn my kitchen, Meitantei," Kaito said, rooted in the doorway with a wicked grin.
Shinichi did not react at first, stirring so carefully as though it would explode in his face at any moment. "I'd be surprised if this house doesn't have fire insurance," he murmured. "With you living in it."
"I do. But it'd be hard to convince the insurance company it's an accidental kitchen fire instead of arson."
He didn't get an answer, but Kaito wasn't searching for one. Instead, he dragged a stray chair closer to the table and allowed himself a well-deserved ─ in his humble opinion ─ moment of respite. Kudo continued working as though the other teenager wasn't there, clumsy hands everywhere, doing their absolute best to do their job right.
Wiping at his forehead, the detective carefully dripped the egg yolk all over the concoction. Seconds later, he had brought a bowl over, and after that, a bright smile was drawing itself all over his face.
Kaito lifted his chin to peer over the counter, blinking as soon as the teenager pushed the freshly prepared oyakodon into his sight. "Looks edible," Kaito pointed out.
"And you sound surprised," Shinichi replied, his cheerful demeanor completely gone. He brought another bowl, his movements a little more violent than they used to be.
Hardly discouraged, Kaito chuckled, but decided to leave him at that because, even though this wasn't Tantei-kun, who was usually eager to throw a death threat or two back then and there, Kaito considered himself at least smart enough not to provoke the guy that was handling his meal.
Once he saw the other bowl filled up, the magician rose from his seat and walked over to the cabinet. "Aoko would be crying if she saw this, though," Kaito said, plucking out two cups. "Happy tears, for a change."
Shinichi replied with silence, at first. Then, his face betrayed him with a faint tug at his lips.
"I want him to depend on me more," he admitted, his voice soft, his gaze lost. "Once I return home. Can't depend on Ran and my little brother to keep myself alive."
"Oh, look at you! You are all grown up."
Shinichi sent him a look that clearly wanted to be something more than it actually ended up being. Failing short at the intimidating part, the detective shook his head, not unlike how a disappointed parent would do, and with one bowl in each hand, moved to place them at the table.
With him gone, Kaito found himself freezing in place ─ barely even capable of keeping the cups from crashing into the ground, from fingers growing loose at the sight that Shinichi's body had once obscured from him.
There was another bowl ─ Meitantei had prepared three dishes. Three.
What reason would there be for him to-?
"Oh, it… looks nice?"
Kaito drew in a sharp breath. That voice. Young, boyish ─ no, it had to be a hallucination. Because there was no plausible reason that he could be-
"Convenience stores in Ekoda are something else…"
"Convenience stores? I cooked it myself."
There was a laugh, too ─ bubbly, careless like childhood was supposed to be. Then, abruptly, it was over and followed by a genuinely surprised, "What, you mean it?"
Slowly, he began to turn.
"Of course I mean it. I put all my heart on it."
"But not all the salt you had, I see. Next time, make sure to add a little-"
"Keep your fingers away. We have chopsticks for that."
Maybe Tantei-kun had, in fact, caught him with the soccer ball and he was experiencing a brain-damage induced crazy dream. Because, there was no other way he could explain that he was witnessing Tantei-kun carelessly wandering into his home, his kitchen, with a towel thrown around his neck ─ and, wait, are those my childhood pajamas?! Where did he find those?!
Shinichi seemed unfazed by the hallucination, choosing to crouch next to it. Next thing he was aware of was that the older Kudo had claimed the aforementioned towel, forcefully drying the youngest soaked hair, forcefully enough to steal an annoyed groan out of him.
Once done, Shinichi pulled away. Conan glowered at him, his hair in a complete mess.
"You…"
Both heads turned in his direction, in perfect harmony. And Kaito didn't have a better idea than to point out, breathe out, and do his best to keep his face in place. Poker face. He wasn't sure he had succeeded.
"You… took a bath-?" They both stared harder. Kaito cleared his throat. "In my house."
Conan didn't look amused, settling him with a blank stare. "You made me crawl through the air ducts," he stated.
"No, no, no. I definitely did not make you do anything." To which, the magician raised his hands as a sign of defense, and a plea for him to stay away ─ from his watch and shoes, please. "You're old enough to deal with the consequences of your own actions."
"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrow was twitching now. Probably not good, Kaito thought. "Then, whose was the great idea-"
Kaito immediately pointed at Shinichi. "Your brother's."
And just like that, the attention was off him ─ Conan turned to Shinichi, incredulous at what he was hearing. Kaito would admit feeling just a little bad when the detective jumped back, startled ─ and would be lying, too, because this was survival at its finest. So no hard feelings, Meitantei.
"I…" Shinichi struggled to find his words. "I definitely did not."
"You mentioned there should be a way to go from the entrance door to the office without passing by the hallway," Kaito stated, his shoulders more relaxed somehow. "And that there should be an air vent placed behind the waiting chairs." He shrugged, the motion exaggerated. "I was just testing your theory."
"With my younger brother?!"
"You're the closest thing I had for parental approval."
"I didn't-" Kaito raised his eyebrows, and Shinichi immediately faltered. "Well."
And said nothing else, especially when Conan crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrow high and awaiting a suitable explanation.
A nervous laugh bubbled up from Shinichi's throat.
"Dinner is ready?"
Dinner hadn't been the most comfortable thing to endure ever, and technically, Conan was aware that he wasn't collaborating at all. But even knowing that, he hadn't been able to hide it ─ munching on his food angrily, eyeing the photograph he had been handed over through narrowed eyes, as though he was glaring at it.
He held it closer, downing the food in one large gulp. The boy in the photo stared just as blankly, and for some reason, Conan couldn't get over the nagging feeling that he had seen him somewhere else before. But it was impossible, he tried to convince his mind, even though he knew from experience that it wouldn't comply.
"So," Conan began. "Is this Toichi-san?"
Shinichi nodded. "Detective Takagi seems to have been investigating him."
"Yeah, I know. Saw his file on his desk." He turned to Kaito, who had been playing with his food until now ─ almost distracted, Conan would say, shocked at his own discovery ─ and told him, "That's what you wanted to steal, isn't it? Whatever files you could get from him, and Detective Sato, who's working with him." He shrugged, his lips curved into a teasing smirk. "Another failed heist. Too bad."
And returned to his food, more content this time. Kaito eyed him with some degree of interest, before resting his head on a closed fist and grinning.
"Wrong," he said. Conan's chopstick froze midair, bits of chicken and rice free-falling back to his bowl. "I had my favorite detective memorize them. That's a win for me."
Conan scowled. "That's if I share."
"If you don't, I'll have my second favorite detective serve you seconds of this," Kaito said, motioning over to their dinner.
Admittedly, it took a bit longer for Shinichi to realize what the matter discussed was, but when he did, he halted. "I thought I was improving."
Conan sighed, placing the chopsticks down. "At the level you were at, you don't need a lot of improvement to make it noticeable."
Shinichi thought this was the moment where he had finally lost his mind. Because, he'd have never thought himself to live enough to witness Conan even considering working with Kuroba, even if it was at his expense ─ maybe that was it, he would realize later. Maybe picking on him was their own way of bonding, as twisted as it sounded to his ears.
Though it was hard to be mad. Especially when Conan's bowl was practically depleted, and there was a small smile drawing itself on his young face. A faint sense of accomplishment warmed his chest, the pride of a well-done job filtering all the unnecessary commentary out.
But everything good always came to an end. Conan's shoulders had dropped, and his face had hardened somehow ─ a shadow passing by those once bright eyes of his, stumbling in like an old friend that wasn't welcome anymore.
"They have been investigating lots of people," Conan said, and immediately Kaito went rigid. The boy closed his eyes, as if to think. "Masuyama Yuji, Nakano Ayaka, Kuroba Toichi, and… and Kudo Conan."
Shinichi almost choked on his own food. Usually, his little brother would comment on that ─ but he didn't. Instead, he shifted his entire attention to Kuroba, as though a deliberate attempt to ignore his existence altogether.
If he didn't exist, maybe the questions he'd ask him didn't exist either. That must be the boy's logic, Shinichi assumed.
"He didn't get a lot of information from your father. Most of what he had gathered was about his life as an adult, which you already know plenty about," Conan told him, his brow furrowed. "All he knows is that attended Haido Elementary for an entire year before leaving. He moved out a lot."
Kuroba said nothing, but nodded to let him know he was listening. Conan took that moment to take a sip of his cup, and maybe process the rest of the information, and continue.
"Physical education teacher Sugamoto Yoshiharu described him as athletic, almost a prodigy in his class, but perpetually anxious. As though he expected something to jump at him at any second."
The magician's eyes shot up open. "My dad?"
"Does it sound like him?"
"No. Not at all."
Conan's thoughtful hum hung in the air for a while, and when it died, silence plunged heavily onto their shoulders. He had gone back to examining the photograph, his eyes flickering all over, pausing in each and every single detail of that face to be subjected to a thorough examination. Nose scrunching, eyebrows knitted in utter concentration ─ it told Shinichi that he wouldn't be talking for a while.
Kuroba was quiet, too, though his case was… different, for the lack of a better word. In a face like his, perpetually grinning like there was nothing to be worried about in this world, Shinichi had found that lost, haunted look disconcerting somehow ─ unnatural, but not precisely unfounded.
Maybe that was why Shinichi had chosen silence, due to his ability to think of anything at all.
"AH!"
Okay, maybe Conan hadn't been so keen on silence, after all. His cry had shattered the silence, and startled them both into snapping their heads in his direction ─ if only to see his wide, wide eyes that kept on growing further, holding the photograph mere inches away from his face.
His mouth opened and closed silently, taking a few tries before he could find his words.
"This, this picture!" Now it was inches away from his face. Shinichi craned his neck back to increase the distance and peered around. There was a wild glint in Conan's eyes that was almost disturbing. "I know I recognized that face!"
Kuroba jumped off from his seat. "You do?!"
The mysterious boy was whisked from his face so abruptly that it was almost like it had grown glasses out of nothing. "Oniichan!"
But it was his brother and his exasperated face instead, probably born out of Shinichi being unable to understand what he was trying to say. He flinched ─ which may have exacerbated that feeling, as indicated by the frown on Conan's face.
"When I went to the fireworks festival with my friends ─ Vermouth and Bourbon, remember?!" Conan yelled. "There was a kid! A kid that pretended to be their son!"
He nodded, stiffly. "What are you trying to-?"
But had to stop himself mid-sentence, his entire self jerking at the slam of a photograph against the table. "It's him!" Conan was yelling, his eyes so wide they could roll off his sockets any second now. "The boy I met at the fireworks festival ─ he's the one right here!"
Shinichi felt his breath hitch, and he was sure Kuroba had practically stopped breathing all together. "Are you sure?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course ─ Conan wouldn't look like this if he wasn't certain of it. But there they were, staring at the photograph lying on the table as though there was something supernatural about it ─ like there was a ghostly hand resting atop this young boy's shoulder. There was none, obviously, but the feeling remained just as strongly.
It took him a while, but Kuroba had been the first to school his face into neutrality. Appearances had to be deceiving him ─ Shinichi could not find another plausible explanation.
"It must've been a disguise," Kuroba reasoned. "To rope Detective Takagi into investigating Dad."
For whatever reason he might have to do such a thing, thought Shinichi. "That's why he left the photograph, too," he added. "The air vent Conan crawled into was too small for an adult to fit, meaning that the person who gave Detective Takagi the photograph had to be a child. It's not too far-fetched to think it was the same one."
Conan stared at him for long enough for his eyes to shrink back to their original size. He led them to the photograph to cast it with one last, thoughtful glance.
"A child…" he murmured.
The boy fell silent right afterwards, having sunk deep into his own thoughts ─ thoughts of a nefarious nature, if the troubled frown now sewed on his features was something to rely on.
And that right there was a place where Shinichi's hand couldn't reach, or rather, where Conan wouldn't accept the help ─ it was his area of expertise, so would have figured it out even without the glance that Kuroba sent his way, moments before collecting his own empty bowl and heading to the sink. To let them talk ─ which would have been an oddly touching gesture, hadn't it actually been an impossible task on its own.
Left alone with a half-a-portion of the oyakodon he had prepared, and the husk of a child that clearly wasn't there, Shinichi pressed a hand to his face.
His phone rang with a new call. He brought it from his pocket and paused when he saw it was from Akako.
"Oh, is the passage ready?" he chirped.
He, being the little brother that now magically manifested himself close enough to read from the screen. Shinichi quite honestly wanted to sigh, and maybe question his sudden mood swing, but decided against it. The glimmer of curiosity had overridden the shadows once casting over his gaze; a much better sight to behold, decided Shinichi.
Rather than answering or chasing him away from his personal bubble, Shinichi tapped on the notification. A wall of text confirmed Conan's question better than any words ever would.
"Little had we known then, the past was bound to repeat itself in the most hideous way there could possibly be.
She was so terribly young when it happened ─ we all were, I still am. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see her. Her smile would be bright as the sun, as it's always been, and she would be jumping and running all over the place as she had done that day. Laughing, full of life, like she'd always been ─ like it should have been, for all eternity if possible.
We all cuddled together that night, remember? Even us older children listened to Mom's gentle lullaby, content beyond any doubt. I will never forget, the warm feeling blossoming in my chest as I watched her, and everyone else, fall into a peaceful, deep slumber.
Deep as it was, she never woke up from it.
Or that was what they told us. They never mentioned anything about the puncturing wound close to her carotid artery, or that the blankets were all clean, devoid of the sea of blood that should have been. Clearly inflicted post-mortem.
That morning, I drew her into my arms, and for the first time since I'd met her, she felt cold. That time, I hadn't been able to draw any conclusions on why her body seemed to weigh significantly less than ever before. I hadn't been able to look away from her pale, oddly hollow, little face. I still haven't forgotten it, I'm sure you haven't either.
I'm sorry, Hinata ─ I'm so sorry for bringing these terrible memories back. But you need ─ I want you to know. Everything that happened after you moved overseas, I will tell it to you. Because you deserve to know what happened to Tsukiko-chan.
Please read them carefully ─ my last words to you."
Shinichi pushed his plate away, suddenly nauseous.
Maybe it was his experience as a homicide detective that, short as it was, had forced him to acknowledge the most obscure parts of the human heart. Or maybe it was the distant memory of a certain adorable, precocious little boy laying still in his arms, glass-eyed and growing colder with each second ticking by. But Shinichi could say, without a shadow of doubt, that cases with children were the absolute worst to have existed in this world, by a large margin.
Briefly, he had wondered if he was the only one, seeing as how Conan continued to scan the text with nothing but an extra crease in his brow. But Kuroba had not said a thing ever since he had finished reading it out loud, diligently cleaning about the kitchen without any sort of complaint.
So, he forced himself to breathe in and out. Conan had not commented yet, meaning that he was letting him take the first turn in the discussion.
Better get to the elephant in the room, for starters.
"It's the same name," Shinichi stated. "Tsukiko Koizumi ─ the girl from Martha's Vineyard Mom and Dad told us about."
"The one who died inexplicably in her sleep, yeah," Conan muttered, caressing his chin. He scanned the text once more, at record speed, and hummed in thought. "Hmm… Doesn't it sound like a pattern?"
Shinichi raised his eyebrow. "Pattern?"
"Ten Little Soldier Boys," Conan answered, rummaging through his pocket to find his phone. Once retrieved, he typed something quickly as he muttered, "That old song, from Then There Were None by Agatha Christie… You used it to decipher the code, so…"
So it would make sense it held any more meaning than a way to find the story, Shinichi understood right away. He didn't have much time to ponder any longer, because Conan suddenly blinked at the screen, and spoke,
"Look, the first three lines of the song. It goes like…"
"Ten little Soldier Boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little Soldier Boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little Soldier Boys traveling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were seven."
Shinichi stayed silent for a moment, letting it sink in. It fit a little too perfectly, if you asked him.
"Devon…" Conan murmured. "That's where Dartmoor is."
"I see. Mom and Dad mentioned it, didn't they? That the girl, Tsukiko Koizumi, had an older brother," Shinichi reasoned. "Both orphaned at a young age and taken in by a young couple. Even after the husband died, the wife continued to dote on them both, and another five children."
"That's the husband who choked up," Conan nodded. "Tsukiko Koizumi was the one who died in her sleep and her brother, Hinata Koizumi, moved to Devon after her passing."
That sounded about right ─ or, at least, it aligned with what Shinichi had been speculating. Leaning back, Shinichi let his head tilt until he was staring at that random spot at the ceiling, giving free rein for the wheels within his brain to turn to their heart's content.
"Could he have moved into the forest?" Shinichi pondered out loud. "Away from civilization, drowning in his own grief…"
"Or fear," Conan pipped in. "There's at least a few people now living deep within Wistman's Wood with little-to-no communication to the outside, where Hinata-san is buried. Sounds like a bit too much, if you weren't terrified of the outside world."
And then, both brothers fell silent again, each one too immersed in his own thoughts to notice the glance that a certain magician was sending their way.
For Conan, it was the girl he had met, about a month prior when he had lost his way in the forest. A timid ─ frightened? ─ little girl, with vibrant red eyes ─ exactly like that friend his brother had made, the young woman that went by the name of Koizumi Akako.
"A fear that was to be carried over for the many generations to come," Conan whispered, in an afterthought.
But Shinichi would recall the time he had visited Akako's mansion instead, that moment in time where he had learned about how little she knew of her own heritage, of her own past. He remembered the story her servant had confided in him, about her the man, about how he had gone missing for a while, only to return with a baby Akako in his arms.
"Don't let her suffer her same fate," he had babbled in a final breath, leaving behind a fatherless young girl behind, and a mystery he would take to his grave. And for a split of a second, a thought crossed Shinichi's mind ─ there one moment, gone in the next; fleeting with the lack of logic that would ground it to reality to be examined further.
Was he really talking about her mother?
But it was nothing but conjecture.
Conan thought he had gotten better at this.
He had believed those days were far off behind him ─ nights where he would shoot up from bed, feeling as though the air was too thick and the world about to collapse beneath his feet. But clearly, he had overestimated himself and his ability to deal with the horrors that occasionally haunted his dream world.
It hadn't been an elaborated one this time, or at least, not as detailed as the previous he had experienced, but it had been more than enough to leave him trembling even minutes after his awakening. The man he had encountered earlier had apparently been his mind's muse tonight, and from there, it had branched off into several other terrifying scenarios that Conan didn't have the energy to remember.
A pupilless eye, a distorted laughter, the hands moving ─ it was growing old, he thought with a dry chuckle. He would have thought he should have gotten used to it already, but I'm still way far from that, he recognized, rubbing at his face. I hope Occhan doesn't mention it in the morning-
That was when it fell on Conan how quiet it was, devoid of the snoring that typically filled his ears at times like these. His feet were hanging in the air, too, more than a few inches from the floor ─ and why was there an empty futon in front of him, anyway?
His eyes blinked twice before widening. This wasn't his and Kogoro's shared room. It wasn't his room back at his real home, either.
Ah, that's right, he finally realized. I followed Oniichan back to Ekoda.
Which, again, brought him to the problem at hand; the empty futon, or rather, his brother's absence. Where could he possibly be doing, out there on his own at ─ he halted, remembering that he didn't know what time it was ─ this late into the night?
Conan was a detective, most and foremost. If he didn't know where his brother had disappeared to, he sure would figure it out himself ─ it sounded familiar, Conan tried not to think about that, instead hopping back onto the ground, and tiptoeing his way out of his room.
He stepped into the hallway, and squinted his eyes, hoping it would help him distinguish something in the darkness ─ and, with luck, save himself a concussion for careless venturing through an unfamiliar house with an even more obscure layout. He found a wall, and placed his palms as a makeshift anchor, and looked around.
At one end of the corridor, there was a door ─ a door he should definitely not venture into, lest he unleashed his barely contained urges of smothering that sickening shark grin with a pillow. Criminal or not, that would put him in hot water with Japan's justice system, regardless of his age, so he decided not to.
The faint silvery glow made it from his sight, coming all the way from where he assumed the living room was.
Found you, he thought, a smile creeping up on his face.
And took the first step forward.
Si. La. Sol. La.
He didn't take the second one, listening instead, through the rush of blood on his ears, as the rest of the song was played over. And then there was a pause, silence made more evident at his own restricted breathing.
"Hm… It does sound like it."
That… sounded like his brother ─ scratch that, that was definitely his brother, Conan thought incredulously from where he stood, frozen in place. What is he going to do? he asked himself, then clapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle a gasp. He isn't thinking about… actually calling, is he?!
Fortunately, he didn't hear another button being clicked, which would signalize the beginning of a call that should never, ever happen. Instead, Shinichi hummed for a little before, for what it sounded like, settling the phone into a table.
"That's the area code number for Kurayoshi and Yazu, in Tottori…" Shinichi murmuring carried over in the silence. "Tottori… Martha's Vineyard…" There was a groan. Slowly, Conan began to move again. "Is there a connection at all?"
Peering out the doorway, Conan finally found him. A slightly hunched silhouette in the dim light, his narrowed gaze posed over his fingers, as if in contemplation. No, there's something there ─ a small piece of something, that he held over his eyes, deeply in thought.
A chess piece? Conan realized, his forehead scrunched up in confusion. That's the King, right? What's he doing with-?
"You can come here if you want." Conan had been so close to climbing up onto the ceiling like he was some sort of cat that it wasn't funny. "... Or you could stay there and haunt the hallways."
"Oh, that's a bad horror movie trope there. You know, the creepy ghost kid." He paused, as if considering it. "I wonder if that would work."
"Not for dead phantom thieves, no," Shinichi said with a chuckle. "Try a fish disguise."
"A what?"
Shinichi didn't offer anything further than a grin, which he found extremely infuriating. The lack of an answer invited him forward, and had him cross the distance between them in a heartbeat. Arms firmly crossed in front of his chest, the boy plopped down beside him and sank into the couch.
The sight made Shinichi laugh, briefly as he set the chess piece back onto a chess board that Conan hadn't spotted until now. He might have stared for quite a while, because his brother smiled and said, "Wanna play?"
Conan jumped back, surprised at the question. Having composed himself, pointed out, "There are no pawns."
"Couldn't find them." Shinichi reached over and carefully rearranged the pieces on both sides of the board. "We can manage."
"It doesn't make sense. You can't make a decent game without pawns."
Once finished, Shinichi turned over the board, angling so that the white pieces were facing the little child, who wouldn't stop giving him that one look from over his glasses. Hardly fazing him, the older detective winked.
"You go first," he said.
Conan rolled his eyes, but leaned closer to the board, anyway. He didn't think it through for long, and seized his king's rook to move it, quickly as though he wanted to do away with it as soon as possible. Knight to F3.
Unlike him, Shinichi's smile remained untouched ─ perfectly in place as he plucked his queen's knight off the board. Knight to C6. Right after making his move, he looked up to find his brother's perpetually bored gaze missing.
He wasn't paying attention to the game, but to his clenched fists on his lap. This failed to surprise Shinichi at all, even though, deep down, he wished it did.
Conan leaned forward with a heavy sigh, plopping down his king's rook with a little more force than probably needed. Rook to G1.
"Ayaka-san was reported missing when she was six," Conan finally said, as he leaned back onto the couch. "Her parents died without knowing where she was."
For a heartbeat, Shinichi stayed quiet. "I see," he replied in a murmur, moving his next piece. Rook to B8.
"Masuyama Yuji-san ─ Irish… He was adopted by Pisco. When he was young, too."
His face scrunched up, troubled ─ if it was about their game, or something completely unrelated, Shinichi had no clue. He was more inclined to believe the latter, though, especially since the expression remained even after making a move. Rook to A4.
Shinichi did the same, his lips pressed against one another in a thin line. Bishop to C5.
The boy dipped his head forward, his hand perpetually unmoving. He saw him swallowing hard, as if coming to terms with whatever he was trying to say, or trying to deduce how he was supposed to word it.
"This kid who looks like Toichi-san… And Ai, of course, even though she wasn't mentioned in their files yet…"
"What are you trying to get at?" Shinichi asked, sort of fearful.
Then was met with blue ─ brilliant, piercing blue that would probably strip out the answers from him if he wanted to.
"That's the destiny you saved me from, isn't it?" Conan asked, his voice trembling so slightly that Shinichi wouldn't have noticed, hadn't he been paying attention. "It should have been me. I should've become Singani."
Not for the first time, Shinichi's mind failed in providing a proper response ─ fairly too focused on his own drying mouth to pretend he knew what he was doing.
But he tried, "Listen, I-"
Conan's rook clicked gently against the board. Rook to G5.
And his smile was there, radiant as a miracle in the middle of the darkness.
"Thank you," was all he said.
Shinichi never came up with anything, but a smile blossomed into his face as if his lips had a mind of their own ─ a more functional one than the one he was stuck with, apparently. Because Conan was looking at him with an expression he couldn't place ─ initially, until he made himself clear by motioning to the board and realized that it was his turn.
So, he let his piece advance a few spaces on the board. Knight to E7.
"I saw Detective Sato's investigation. On Kudo Conan."
And nearly proceeded to knock the whole thing over, if he hadn't helped himself in the nick of time. He remembered Conan saying that before ─ he had wanted to ask for more details, sure, but now… it had been a bit out of the blue.
Though, on a second thought, it kind of made sense for him to bring it up now.
"There was a detailed report of the case in which he died," he said, fiddling with his knight ─ an anxious gesture he wasn't about to point out. "About the child trafficking ring you supposedly took down."
He placed the piece back. Knight to C3.
"I was told to take them down," Shinichi replied. Rook to H3. "They were said to be of no further use, and the perfect scapegoat."
"By Vermouth?"
"By Vermouth."
A hum passed past Conan's throat, as though he was either thinking of his next move, or processing what his brother had said ─ he wasn't sure which one it was, but he waited patiently for either one to develop in front of his eyes.
Conan reached forward, and just as he fingered his white Bishop it fell on Shinichi his mistake ─ he had left his rook vulnerable, moments away from capture at the hands of this bespectacled boy who wouldn't think twice about-
Bishop to G2. He hadn't taken it ─ he had stopped just a space before claiming his rook.
Confused, Shinichi looked up, and saw Conan staring at space again, biting his lip.
"What else?"
His little brother's head jerked as he faced him again, blinking distractedly. He pretended never to have noticed it, calmly using his turn to play before he could address the situation. Rook to H1. He wanted to see if he would notice.
Conan retreated ─ Bishop to F1 ─ absolutely avoiding capturing his rook again. Certainly not a good sign.
"Two bad moves, one after another," Shinichi said.
He wasn't even trying ─ neither to play nor to look at him in the eye. If he couldn't recognize that as suspicious behavior, then he would be an embarrassment for a detective.
The teenage detective paused briefly, if only to sigh and, in a swift movement, take Conan's bishop and set his rook in its place. Rook to F1. Capture.
"Something else is bothering you."
Conan glanced over at the lost piece, left forgotten at one side of the table, off the chessboard. After a moment of contemplation, the boy huffed, going for Shinichi's rook as though he was avenging a fallen friend. King to F1. Capture.
He didn't say anything, didn't make a move either. Stubbornly refusing to look up, Conan's hand hovered over the board, and was left to hang in the air beyond any use. It plopped back down on his lap, a huff leaving his lips, frustrated somehow. Frustrated about what, Shinichi couldn't tell exactly, but thought he had a vague idea.
So, he tried. "Conan-"
"You promised you wouldn't lie, didn't you?"
Shinichi nodded, without thinking twice. Conan moistened his lips before speaking.
"I… found a paternity test," he finally said, to his older brother's bewilderment. "From it, Detective Sato concluded I could not be Kudo Conan."
"That was a close call," Shinichi breathed out. He may not know exactly where the rigged results had come from, but his parents were a safe bet ─ they probably should be grateful for it. "Makes you think where she got your DNA to begin with."
Again, he averted his gaze ─ out of embarrassment this time, as proven by the rosy color that spread in his face after a slight jerk in his shoulders. "There was this time, she… may have bribed me with cheesecake for a statement I didn't feel like giving?"
Shinichi tried not to burst out laughing. "Cheesecake?"
"And coffee."
And failed. This earned him a groan, and as the child tried to sink into the cushion as if planning to disappear from existence altogether, Shinichi realized that, no, he didn't feel sorry at all.
Wiping out a stray tear from his eye, he controlled his breathing, and reached out to move his piece. Rook to B3.
"I should've seen that coming," Shinichi said, the remains of a chuckle pushing past his teeth. "But I'm surprised. To think that Detective Sato could get Dad's DNA is a bit-"
With a gentle click, Conan's bishop stood firm on the chessboard. Shinichi's smile faded into nothingness as he stared, through widening eyes, at the scene his brother had created.
Bishop to B2.
That was directly in front of his rook ─ as if inviting him to take yet another of his pieces.
Shinichi frowned, and risked it without knowing what destiny could be waiting for him. He didn't take Conan's bishop ─ it would be careless for him to do so, to fall in the trap that he was so obviously setting up for him. Knight to D5.
What could he be planning? What kind of strategy-?
He looked up back at Conan and froze. Instead of a focused expression pinching his face, or even that cocky smirk sparking back into existence, Shinichi found something different altogether. He found a frown and bitten lips, and eyes that stared blankly ahead ─ distant, as though a mirage he couldn't reach even though he was right there.
"Conan, you…" he began, strangely queasy. "You don't think it's real, do you?"
Conan's head snapped back up, his mouth opening and closing ─ making no sound besides a strangled laugh that sounded so forced that it physically pained him.
"That's ridiculous," he scoffed, making a quick move as if to prove something ─ not that Shinichi was sure to whom. "I'm not stupid. I know it isn't-"
Rook to G6. He didn't take the knight either.
Conan winced, and slowly raised his gaze until he met Shinichi's frown. All of a sudden, the urge to shrink into inexistence was too big to bear.
"I'm… probably a bit stupid."
Shinichi nodded. "You are," he said, biting each word. "The most stupid genius kid I've ever known."
Conan paused, considering whether to be offended, fight back or explain himself. None of those options seemed fitting for what he felt right now, so he settled with a scowl.
It was short-lived, though. Gone with a dejected sigh and a cast look at shaking fists.
"I just… don't know what to believe anymore," Conan confessed, in a thin, extremely fragile voice. "I know it's not true ─ I know."
"But?"
"But there's no proof." The boy retreated to the furthest corner, bringing his knees to his chest. "In fact, there's more proof pointing out to me not being… not being, you know, me, than anything else."
His arms circled around his legs, hugging tightly with fingers that lost their color by the second. "I-It's stupid, I know, but…" He broke before he could finish, but valiantly tried again with a feeble voice that couldn't stop trembling. "But just… just the thought that I… that we are not-"
All of a sudden, he felt what little words he had brisked away and thrown into the abyss to never be thought about again. For there was warmth ─ there was a chest, pressing itself against his bewildered eyes, arms secured all around him. For a single skipped heartbeat, Conan forgot how to breathe.
His brother's chest rumbled as he whispered, "You were so tiny."
Conan pushed his head off the embrace, with no other objective to stare at the older boy, absolutely puzzled. If anything, it only made Shinichi laugh ─ and far from discouraging him, it prompted him to hug him even closer. Conan didn't fight him, instead resting his chin over his shoulder, not unlike he had done earlier that night.
"Did you know?" Shinichi began. "When Mom told me I was going to be a big brother, I wasn't… exactly looking forward to it."
Which, naturally, gained no reaction at that. Shinichi knew Conan didn't know how he was supposed to react, but it was fine ─ he didn't need to do anything, he didn't even need to hear him out. All he had to do was, just, be.
"I was already nine at that time, I think. Maybe eight."
His eyes slipped closed, and he allowed himself to get lost in those simpler times, if only for a moment ─ he and Ran, being led back home by a path filled with cherry blossoms. He had expected an empty home, only to be met by those same parents that had supposed to be on a love trip somewhere across the globe ─ somewhere, because Shinichi's young mind had not retained that information for long.
She had beamed back then as she told him the news that would, most definitely, flip his world upside down.
"I didn't want to deal with a newborn in my house. They are loud, ugly, messy ─ I definitely wanted none of that."
Behind his lids, he saw those old flames rising to the sky ─ the whisper of the sea all too present in his ears, and a pencil mustache framing a smile. A magic trick, he had described it as ─ the brightest, most incredible one to have ever existed.
"Can I tell you a secret, Conan?" he murmured. "Back then, I was really, really scared."
Lifting his hand and pressing it to the back of his brother's head, Shinichi forced himself to smile. "The truth is, I wasn't sure… if I'd become a good big brother. If I'd be fitting for the role."
He felt Conan's breath hitch, an unmistakable sign of surprise he didn't voice. He wondered if he would be surprised, too, if he told him that, right now, he was still scared ─ he had always been, living in fear of not being capable enough, of not living up to his role. That he would make a mistake, just another one, and lose everything ─ lose him.
It was still alive and kicking, festering in the darkest corners of his mind. But, unlike how it had been, he could always push it back and move on. Because he had priorities ─ a promise he had made to himself nearly nine years ago.
"I remember holding you in my arms. You were… smaller. Smaller than you are now. Shocking, right?"
That, he did voice it out, "Hey."
"You've changed a lot ─ and at the same time, you're the same."
The way he pressed himself against him in an unconscious search for comfort, how he closed his eyes at the touch, and his warmth ─ he hadn't changed one bit, even though Conan would never notice it by himself. It was him, alright ─ the same fragile little thing he had sworn to lay his own life for.
And even as the years inevitably passed by, even if this midget of a boy suddenly gained a few extra centimeters and surpassed Shinichi in every sense possible, he knew it would never change a thing.
"You're my little brother," Shinichi assured him ─ his tone clear, confident. "No paper is going to convince me otherwise, no matter how realistic it may look like."
Little hands hovered behind him, hesitant.
"I'm all the proof you need," the older detective said. He felt a smile, a more genuine one this time, crawling onto his face as he felt Conan hugging back, hands tentatively resting on his back. "Me, and these precious memories I'll never let go of. They suffice, even if you feel like yours are failing you."
Fingers grasped onto his shirt. "No," came Conan's muffle reply. "No, they are not."
"There you go then." That being said, Shinichi finally pulled away, and beamed at Conan's still sort of bewildered ─ but thankfully more relaxed ─ face. "Come on, we still aren't over with our game."
It took a moment for Conan to replicate, with a warm smile of his own.
"Then go," he told him. "It was your turn."
"Huh? Ah, I forgot."
He didn't take much time, and genuinely, Conan found it hard to believe that he had thought about it for anything further than two seconds. King to E7 ─ even if he had wanted to come up with a more disappointing move, Conan didn't think he'd have managed.
Warily, Conan moved his own piece. Knight to H4.
I could have taken his knight. But unless I figure out what his strategy is-
It was Shinichi's turn next. Queen to G8.
Wait, Conan paused, blinking stupidly at the chessboard ─ then at Shinichi, then back at the board again. "Why did you risk your queen?" Conan asked.
He even had the nerve to tilt his head, in an obvious ─ too obvious, Conan had played that role his fair share of times ─ display of utter bewilderment. Huffing, the boy decided to risk it ─ and let Shinichi get away with whatever sad excuse of a strategy he had elaborated.
Rook to G8. Capture.
At the loss of his queen, Shinichi merely scowled ─ as if merely inconvenienced. Bishop to D7.
Conan frowned as though he had been on the losing end, gripping his rook so tightly that, for a moment, made Shinichi wonder where he could go to get another one to replace it if it cracked under pressure. Rook to G4. An useless move ─ probably born out of wariness. Conan clearly wanted to know where he was going with all of this.
Shinichi shrugged. Bishop to E8.
Are you serious? thought Conan, his eyebrow twitching, and placed his rook directly in front of Shinichi's king. Rook to G7.
"There," said Conan, a wicked smile curving his lips upward. "Let's see how you get out of this-"
King to F7.
He… hadn't meant it to be so immediate. Conan stared horrified at the board, his mouth slightly agape, lifting his head to discover Shinichi's big grin. It was tempting not to throw the entire thing on his face to try and wipe it up ─ he decided against it, but only because it would be a pain to clean up.
"You know you aren't allowed to do that," Conan stated, plainly. "I refuse to say 'checkmate'."
"I was trying to even it up," Shinichi explained, to Conan's bewilderment. "For all your lousy moves before."
Conan looked as if he wanted to say something, but then decided to sigh his heart out instead. "Second round?"
Shinichi had already been setting the pieces back in order. "Let's pretend it's the first one."
"Oh, yes, please."
There's someone, the thought had floated up to the surface before he could even realize he was awake.
Kaito's eyes were already open, staring up at his room ceiling as he attentively listened to the strange paddling of feet across the hallway ─ wandering, maybe aimlessly, maybe terribly hesitant. They headed away from his room, presumably towards the living room ─ and Kaito felt himself relax against his pillows.
It's fine, he realized, and with a sigh, contently crawling back in the peaceful arms of deep sleep.
"KAITO!"
And then he was at it again, catching himself at the nick of time before he could become a shapeless, concussed mush splattered all over on his own carpet ─ probably for a certain pair of detective brothers to stumble upon by chance, signaling the beginning of a crime investigation instead of, like, calling an ambulance or something.
It would be a simple case, so it probably would be solved quickly ─ fortunately for him, the poor victim. "Kaito!" Because the criminal wasn't even trying to hide her crime, her voice carried over the wind throughout the entire neighborhood. "Time to wake up!"
Grumbling, Kaito drew the curtain open ─ cue to a brand new session of groaning when the morning light fell right into his still teary eyes. It was too early ─ he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for Aoko.
So, he made it clear, voicing it out in a childish complaint of some sort, that his own brain wasn't able to hold on for much longer. He did know that it had earned him Aoko's scowling ─ or had she been scowling the whole time? Kaito couldn't be sure.
"Open the door right now!" Aoko told him. "I'm coming down."
And before anything could be said or done, the girl had practically vanished from her usual spot behind her bedroom's window. Kaito stared at the vacated spot for a second, before crumpling down onto the windowsill with an exhausted sigh.
"Kaito!" she was yelling, already from the street. "I'm waiting!"
"Geez. Coming, coming."
Thus, reluctantly, he dragged his feet out of his room. He dragged them, too, across the hallway and across the living room. Just before getting to the door, the magician halted, and confused, turned around to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
He felt himself smile.
The sight that awaited him upon opening the room was fairly within his expectations, yet far from what he would've preferred. Aoko's hands were firmly placed on her waist, a frown deeply carved in her features, and her mouth wide open and ready to express herself in the loudest way humanity had ever conceived.
"Finally!" she exclaimed, and he flinched. She pounced on him, her eyes flashing. "Now, listen up, Bakaito! What's-?!"
A finger pressed to her lips had the girl stopping in her tracks, bewilderment visible in each and every single corner of her face. Kaito hushed her, his free finger hovering over his own lips, and didn't move until she blinked, quietly.
He let both arms fall and sent a cautious glance over his shoulder before turning away. Taking it as an invitation to come in ─ not that she would ever wait for one ─ the girl gently closed the door behind her back and followed him.
She nearly bumped into him as they arrived in the living room, yet true to her unspoken promise, she said nothing about it. Instead, she peered around his childhood friend.
Her hands rose to her face, smothering a gasp down. There, curled up on the couch, he found a certain little detective, his face squished against his older brother's knee ─ chests rising and falling in perfect synchrony, as though perfectly connected even through dreams.
A giggle pushed past Aoko's lips. Kaito wondered if he was supposed to thank any of them for collaborating with her sudden mood change ─ and unknowingly raising his life expectancy to, like, an extra few minutes.
One glance downwards had his eyebrow twitching, though. Resting on the coffee table rested his old chess board, a few pieces knocked over at some point of what he supposed to be a late night game of chess. Which would be an adorable scene to see, no doubt, hadn't it been that the remaining pieces ─ about half of the entire set, or rather, what was left of it ─ scattered all over the floor.
"Is he staying over?" Aoko questioned.
Kaito looked up ─ innocently, as though he hadn't been thinking about pouring pink glitter in the shampoo Meitantei used. Which was hard to pretend, considering that it took him quite a few seconds to process what she had said.
"He's leaving once he wakes up," he answered, then added as if an afterthought, "Hopefully."
Aoko clearly didn't miss it, hence the raise of her eyebrow. "I don't get why you don't like Conan-kun." She paused, glanced over to where the small detective slumbered placidly, and grinned. "Look at him. He's a sweet little angel."
He tried not to wince. "That's the general conception of him. It usually crumbles apart the moment he decides to play soccer with you, though."
"That's actually kinda cute."
"Not when your face is the goal."
"Say what you want, but I see that as another point in his favor."
For a moment, he was torn between feigning hurt or rolling his eyes, but seeing that the first option would include raising his volume a little over the norm ─ for dramatics' sake ─ and risk rousing the demon spawn currently dormant in his couch, he settled for the latter.
He bent over to clean up, and certainly not to avoid looking at his friend in the eye and thus fuelling her ire. Aoko almost immediately crouched to help out, which he was deeply grateful for ─ even if he wouldn't say it.
He picked the bishop up last ─ black as the wings of a raven, was the thought that came forward, unprompted like a stranger's invading his mind. Before he could help it, he was seeing another hand cupping his much smaller one, and a reassuring smile crossing his field of view.
"What are you doing, Bakaito? Stop dwelling around and help me."
Kaito blinked back to reality ─ a reality he wasn't sure how to interpret. Aoko was slumped over, prompted up by her elbows as she swapped the entire floor in an instant through squinty eyes.
"Where could they have gone?" she half whined, half groaned, obviously exasperated.
"What, the pawns? I don't have any."
Her whole stance halted, ever so slowly turning to stare at him with surprise clear in her eyes. "You don't?"
"I tried out a trick when I was a kid and ended up losing them," he said, then laughed at Aoko's incredulous stare. "It was a special set my mom brought from France ─ she wasn't happy."
"How do you lose sixteen pieces in one go?"
"I'm amazing like that."
She was the one rolling her eyes now, so Kaito found it safe to assume they were even now. Aoko rose back to her feet, dusting out her clothes while grumbling about something Kaito didn't exactly pay attention to.
Slowly, he also stood back up, settling the black bishop at its legitimate spot on the board. Even now, he could hear his father's amused chuckle ─ a burst of laughter that erupted afterwards, and made it impossible for his mother to stay mad for long enough. One that would forever be embedded in his memories, probably for the years to come.
Like that time, a proud smile crept up onto his lips. A failed trick didn't mean a failed show, as long as the audience approved it ─ another valuable lesson from his father he would surely never forget.
As of now, Kaito wondered if he had meant to teach him anything that night. I'll ask, he decided. Once I catch up with you, Dad. Wherever you are.
"Hey, Kaito," Aoko began. "Was it you?"
"The one who lost the pawns?"
She shook her head. "Dad left home last night in a hurry. He came back in the morning with a blinding smile on his face."
He wanted to ask if her smile was intentional, if it was a means to replicate the one in her memories, but he didn't.
Kaito shrugged, fighting the tips of his lips as they tugged upward on their own. Aoko elbowed him hard.
A/N
adeniaarifah: Of course! I don't mind at all :)
CherryGirl 21-6: Sorry, I can't tell. I prefer just to update when it's ready and not rush to make it to an established date.
God, please no. Not another 30 years xD
F.C. Meyer: Thank you for the things pointed out, I'll look into it. And yeah, I'm kind of wondering what I got myself into by adding that case xD But it had to happen in here, for plotline issues, so I'll have to manage somehow.