1.01

February 14th, 1996

Kogoro slipped his feet into his shoes in a mundane pace. He was alone in the house panging with silence as his daughter was hospitalized for a severe concussion and pneumonia and whatnot else. He had been too disturbed out of his mind to responsibly read through the medical files. He had listened with half mind and had been nodding diligently whereas he had just wanted to spare himself from the details—the fact that she would make a full recovery was enough knowledge.

He looked into the mirror as he threw his coat over his shoulders, noting how awfully he looked. He could not stand the silence that the absence of his daughter had brought around. All seemed to forgo life and revel in a state of nonexistence, time freezing over the abandoned detective agency fading into depression. He was staying at home all the time, unable to do anything apart from entrusting the medical professionals with his daughter and waiting for cases that would never come in utter boredom as for the first time in life, he was not in the mood to make bets or smoke the next cigarette on the previous can of beer ignoring her constant nagging.

He continued grooming himself for his mandatory activity—the hospital visit. His casual blue suit lacked the care of his daughter and the oversized dirty yellow coat did not improve his general looks—but he did not care anymore. He awaited the opportunity that forced him out of his isolation and occupied his mind enough to temporarily forget about that day, to forget that terrifying sight that haunted him every time he tried to close his eyes to rest.

He walked out the door, fumbling for the keys but he was back there again.

A certain island, three days ago.

He sprinted off as soon as the locals boarded the ship. He was raging, burning up on the inside the same as the island around him—emotions engulfing him to the point of all reason forgotten. He would rather consent to that than his concern shredding him to pieces as his eyes trailed the shore, looking for flash of fuscous, a slender figure, anything, absolutely anything that would lead him to his daughter. When the fire reached the sea, he saw a ship, unidentifiable and threatening and strange and thus suspicious, running over the same human-looking bundle again and again—he guessed the inspector fired some shots and closed up and—

He found her there. He pried her from the rigid grip of the other teen and gently held her limp body in his hands—his own daughter, stripping him from his grasp on reality through balancing on the borderline of life and death. He barely heard the inspector in the background, keeping the calm he lost and radioing the reinforcements for medical attention. Her weak breaths supplemented her pale face as his fingers touched blood flowing from a wound on the head—he did not dare to check. Not that he could have done anything—he was no doctor, he could only tell on a primal, instinctual level that her life was slipping away with every passing second.

"Mouri-kun, are you alright?"

He snapped out of his mindscape to see the inspector popping into existence and himself staring down the front of the door with the keys in hand like an idiot. He quickly slapped a casual expression on his face to hide the mess the latest incident had left his mind in.

"Ah, yes. What brings you here, inspector?"

"You missed out yesterday's task force meeting."

He rubbed his face in frustration that even that had slipped his mind.

"Everyone knows about your daughter so the higher-ups were understanding. Kudo-kun was absent too because of the same strings attached, which was a little more problematic with how much of the investigation he carried himself. And we might need to take your testimony again."

"Taking his would be remunerative. I wonder how long does he plan to stay unconscious."

He had expected him to stay so forever two weeks ago. He wanted to blame that irresponsible brat for the injuries of his daughter so much—he knew what had happened, brat had spotted the culprit fleeing and had given a chase, disregarding the world crumbling down and the other person he had been supposed to protect. That overconfidence and arrogant attitude of his had almost condemned both of them to death and he was not about to let that go easily.

He would have gobsmacked him on the spot had that not been likely to kill him. As he was preoccupied with his family and tried to bestow his responsibility on the brat, the direness of his condition evaded his attention until he had taken a better look. He had resembled a broken doll as the inspector was trying his hardest to keep the life in him until professional help had come. His face had fallen when brat actually died and had been resuscitated by a doctor on spot—he had not followed it further as his daughter had started to receive her treatment too. He would have stayed with that statement had he not heard him saying—

"Mouri-kun!"

"Ah, sorry, inspector. What did you say?"

"You need to get yourself together. Ran-kun is going to recover in no time and the world will return to its normal pace. I asked if you wanted to come to the hospital with us. Kudo-kun has actually regained consciousness and we need to make your testimonies consistent."

He did not know how to react to that news. A part of him was glad that the brat could finally serve with information while another reminded him to all those inexplainable comments, so, so many inexplainable comments and questionable actions that surrounded his figure and disturbed his mental peace on many occasions. He knew the enigma was back to put their minds through another trial the purpose of which would be beyond their understanding again.

"I see. I'll take you on the offer."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little while."

Hikawa-sensei, the doctor in charge of the two teenagers flipped a paper on his board. He looked around as emptiness surrounded him and the police members about to make their visit. He had gotten accustomed to entering through the faculty door—even if the lack of people and that occasionally fluctuating light on the ceiling of the obviously unused corridor never failed to strike him as eerie. He understood and supported the decision of the inspector nevertheless—it would have been dangerous to admit those two teenagers, seriously injured after escaping a crime organisation, into the public section of a hospital without police supervision during their recovery.

A newcomer opened the backdoor. "Good afternoon, inspector."

The inspector looked delighted. "Nice to see you amongst us, Shiratori-kun."

Ah, he remembered. He had been the detective whom the supposedly captured assassin had thrown into the sea while hijacking the helicopter—it seemed that and that the cordons he had designed had done little to burden the makeshift escapade had toned him down a bit. He had been admitted to the hospital too until the doctors determined that he would walk away with a couple of scratches and a mild cold. He did cough a bit into the mask covering his nose and mouth.

The inspector adjusted to his professional attitude. "How is the investigation going?"

"I tasked the other detectives with writing the case file, as it appears that every piece of information has been put into place. Regarding the matter of the crime organisation, our department lacks the necessary authority to conduct thorough investigation. I think that considering the scale of the incident, there will be a new task force or the current one for the prophet will be expanded and tasked with this too, based on the suspected connection."

"It stands of the police chef, it seems."

"I heard some rumours—but now, our priority is to find the last piece to the puzzle."

Hikawa-sensei deemed that a good moment to interrupt. "I said to wait. Kudo-san might have regained his consciousness, however, considering his severe condition, he has to go through the mandatory medical check-ups. Moreover, Kudo-san has requested a visitor himself—one Agasa Hiroshi."

The inspector looked questioningly. "And who that might be?"

"His neighbour." He supplied the missing piece of information to the unaware police members. "His neighbour has been tasked with looking after him ever since his parents left for their world-round travel. My daughter is also familiar with the man—he is like a guardian to the brat."

"I see. Kudo-kun rarely talks about his personal life."

That made him think—everyone else knew so little about the person loitering around them more than his family. His better insight was to be expected, however, even what he had on him was more of a superficial impression compared to other people with whom he shared the same length of acquaintance. He started to realise that the main reason why none of them could understand the incidents was that none of them understood the key person on a deeper level. Their relationship stayed strictly professional, maybe the brat annoying the hell out of other detectives mixed in there, while the spotlight and fame hid the truth.

His internal rant was broken. "How long are we to wait?"

"Half an hour, since the visitor in question has already arrived."

He noticed the inspector sighing—compared to three days, half an hour was nothing. As the others all settled down in the lobby, occupying themselves with their respective matters, an idea started to entertain his mind. He stepped towards the doctor about to return to his duty, pointing at himself.

"Uhm, would it be possible for me to see my daughter meanwhile?"

"Ah, Mouri-san. Of course, she has been awaiting you."

Asou Seiji was not an unexpected sight by his daughter. Having been hauled up by the police reinforcements as the only available doctor on the spot to lend the injured teenagers first aid, he went from running a modest praxis on a remote island to entangling himself in a complicated case leading to the capital.

His daughter was cooped up in the white linen bedsheets. While she looked a hundred times better than in the memory burnt into his mind permanently, he could not dismiss the exhaustion radiating off her slumbered figure swimming in the oversized blue of the hospital gown and her unbrushed locks supplementing her sleepy eyes. As he entered, she was in the middle of reading a sentence, narrowing her eyes once a complicated kanji came into sight.

His presence averted whatever little attention she had.

"Dad! You came today too!"

He nodded to the doctor, then sat down by her bedside.

"I will tomorrow and the day after that too. How have you been?"

"I feel foggy but it gets better with every day. I'll be able to go home soon enough, they said."

He was relieved beyond words that she had suffered no permanent damage—while he had already known that, further reassurance always touched him. As much as he wanted to pry into the questionable details of three days ago, he put his role as a father before his role as a detective and did not force his daughter to remember any traumatizing events. Not even the police were allowed to interrogate her until the doctors gave them a permission.

"I guess you feel lonely and overwhelmed in that big large household alone. I'll go home and everything will return to normal. I'll even allow you to watch horse race while I catch up with the schoolwork I missed. I'll walk to school with my friends again and enjoy the boring everydays with him and snicker when people get upset over ridiculously small things or gossip about us. I'll apologise to senpai and return to my karate practise and win in the regional tournament against Hina. Then we can have a big party and invite my classmates over and watch serials and talk all night and maybe then—maybe then he will—"

His daughter fell back to the pillow, eyes shadowed over.

"If only it would be that easy."

He did not know what to respond.

"They—they are going to hunt us and we—"

"I will never let that happen—and the police are hellbent on protecting you. We took every precaution and put you under strict supervision. Not even a fly could get past our defence strategy. I know that there are people watching over you who have dealt with similar organisations in the shadow decade—and they have the experience and guts to do it again to keep both of you alive. Your situation is not hopeless and you are safe here, and so is your, uh, friend."

He meant every word. Not many police officers, former or active, talked about the shadow decade—a period when underground activity had gone galore. The police had dealt with one yakuza clan after another—mostly small-time group of outlaws but capable enough to hook you up poison instead of infusion in the hospital. A time that had brought grief and fear for many people and a particularly bad first experience for a police rookie like him. He had never been more relieved once the underground was, at the very least, under check. To think that one of those organisations survived and had been growing ever since—

"You haven't talked with him yet, dad."

A statement, not a question.

"But you're right—this is not enough to make us quit—"

Her eyelids became heavier with every second. He felt conflicted as ever about her attitude switching between concerned insecurity and blind determination—as if she herself did not know which were her actual emotions. He caressed her hand in a soothing manner as she fell asleep.

Asou stepped besides him, ready to repeat the information he should have remembered by then.

"Her condition is stabile as it has been for the past two days. Her body is still weak from the infection and her concussion does little to improve the way she feels, however, that is going to get better soon. Fortunately, she seemed to have been spared from extensive physical injuries, so only the pneumonia caused by the water she inhaled while unconscious means a significant problem. Normally, she would be able to go home after two weeks and continue recuperating at home but according to the agreement with the police, we can discharge her from the hospital once she fully regained her strength. Her time here also means police protection."

"I know. I can't help but miss her though."

"A parent worrying about their child's wellbeing is the most natural thing in the world. I bet you wish to talk more to her but you have to pay attention to her condition. This seems to be the most time she can spend awake before she gets too tired. Talk about teens, I guess you know."

"Kudo Shinichi—oh, yes. I have yet to visit him, obviously."

"If you do, please thank him properly."

His raised eyebrow urged the doctor to elaborate.

"I gave him first aid and was with him the whole time he was brought in—I have no clue on exactly what happened between the assassination in front of the community centre and the moment we found them in their respectively dire conditions but comparing their files, something came out. Most of his injuries are frontal and your daughter suffered surprisingly few external injuries, as mentioned before. I can determine that he was protecting your daughter—as in, actually shielding her."

He sat wordlessly, chin resting on his folded fingers. He stoically stared at his daughter as if that would explain why she placed so much trust in that insufferable brat that she was willing to accompany him to the hospital bed while he was getting confirmation that the dedication was apparently mutual. He had a hard time thinking of the teen as insufferable after the past month either—it was just a prejudicial part of his mind sticking to the known formula on the person.

He wondered when had their bond gotten so strong.

"I will thank him."

His eyes skimmed over the excuse of a report on the incident occupying the first pages of the newspaper that he had borrowed from the staff. He legitimately admitted that giving the media crumbs was worse than not giving them anything at all—and that that certain line of thoughts sounded familiar. After all, the events of three days ago were not the first and definitely not the last in the list of inexplainable cases of future predicting. He turned a page in the crusty paper to see even more disturbing images of the piece of land reduced to dust and ashes and more elaborating on the speculations the journalist favoured to serve as facts.

"That professor is taking long."

A man of formal appearance appeared next to him.

"Indeed. Excuse me, you might be—"

"A police assistant tasked with overseeing the hospital. I guess you wouldn't be familiar with a no-name figure like me." A humourless laugh left his mouth. "By any means, continue reading. I passed up on the opportunity to bore my mind with the gossip."

"A voice of reason, finally."

He glanced up from the papers to take a better look at his impromptu talking partner—even if their topic was awfully special and the conversation started shakily bouncing towards an interesting direction. He saw no hurt in killing time with a mental challenge and he looked forward the suited individual with the strange eyebrows and glasses providing him at least that much distraction from his usual circle of doubt and guilt. He would have lit a cigarette had he not been in a hospital.

"I wonder why you, of all people, bother reading through the official version. You are a well-known phenomenon amongst certain circles here. You were one of those to be contacted by the prophet for the first time and get a ticket to the depths of the investigation immediately. I wanted to find out exactly how much of what the media and people claim is true—excuse me, never mind that thought. I can understand that you have a good reason to keep the details confidential."

"As a fellow police member, you have to."

The man looked away, as if hesitating on a point.

"Would you mind some questions of interest?"

He raised an eyebrow at the sudden request, half mind wondering about what kind of secret intention laid behind the attitude. He stuffed his paranoic thoughts into the back of his mind upon deeming the curiosity the man showed merely natural interest towards a debatable topic that kept everyone on their heels. An overly cautious mind was often as much of a setback as a lousy one—missing great opportunities to gather potential allies to the cause based on baseless premonitions.

He folded the paper in half and started walking further from other curious ears.

"You are to stay out of the confidential."

"As expected," The man followed him without a blink. "I mostly wonder about the lack of intervention from the prophet on Tsukikage-jima. Ever since he made his public debut, no serious crimes managed to take place in the entire region—some were directly prevented and, in some cases, the fearsome fame the individual gathered amongst the public did a splendid job in dissuading wannabe culprits. And out of the blue, there is an arson connected to an underworld debacle drowned into blood. How come the prophet failed to foresee that—or is it possible for him to have an unknown connection to the organisation in question?"

A few seconds passed in silence as he chewed on his words.

"While the suspicion is there, there is no definite evidence that the prophet is working for or against any unknown party. From our observation of his character, he seems interested in keeping the crime rate low, which would entail stopping the activity of this organisation."

That was a pile of bullshit—even if the part about their lack of evidence was true. That person labelled as the prophet most certainly had a vendetta against that organisation. That was the information connecting his debut case and the latest one—because yes, the prophet was present, through the high-school detective supposedly working on uncovering the identity of this phenomenon in tandem with many police heads while lowkey following the instructions of the target person.

"He does have a connection to the prophet."

And his daughter was his accomplice.

"You should leave him to be until he approaches you though. I promise that he has no malicious intentions towards anyone, just a secret that could lead to a lot of trouble if it was revealed in any way. He knows the prophet more than anyone does, and we intend to let you in the secret when the time comes."

The man next to him looked intrigued. "It seems that despite my efforts, I still underestimated the prophet. I always assumed that the task force was withholding the information for its own good, not that the task force is as much in the dark as the rest of the police or the public. Achieving the unconditional trust the law enforcement puts in his ridiculously sounding claims and covering up his tracks flawlessly despite the qualified detectives often present at the scenes—what a guy."

"Everyone has a limit to their abilities."

"I start to doubt that."

"Tsukikage-jima happened."

"Fair point. However, look at those other cases. Nothing spectacular to forecast any violent action and yet, this person has detailed knowledge about them all. As if he actually has the ability to see the future itself. His achievements redefined impossibility. I doubt that even the professional task force can go far without establishing some kind of theory about his source of information—or even the person itself. Your assumptions must be more accurate than the glossaries'."

"The task force is a group of police detectives, not conspiracy theorists. We work with facts, of which we indeed have little on our hands. While everyone has an own interpretation on the events, none is official. If you want to read personal opinions, you can stay with the newspaper."

His shot at humour made the man turn sour for a moment.

"I apologise to have intruded personal space."

"Ah, neverm—"

When he turned towards where the man had been walking by his side, the empty corridor welcomed his attention. A shudder ran down his spine before the first conscious thought judging the situation could have formed in his head as he allowed the hidden frown to reveal on the outside. He felt something off about the nature of his questions—they were of an interrogator's purposefully twisting the conversation to make him spill the most information.

Not even a fly, huh.

He pulled behind the corner when he noticed another nurse passing by. He was cursing his idea to lead the person from before away, as the man had flawlessly vanished into thin air and he was lost in the maze of corridors instead. He somehow ended up in public section of the building, if the anthill of medical personnel and the colourful patches of bustling visitors was anything to go by, and he could not exactly walk up to the first nurse and ask how to get back to the restricted section without condemning himself a long, uncomfortable conversation. He had no choice but to relay on himself even after determining that he had picked the wrong turn again.

Hikawa-sensei and a team of surgeons were the only personnel aware of the two extra patients, as the police had decided not to involve the hospital staff any more than necessary. Asou happened to join that closed group given his role in administrating first aid and the general situation itself.

He allowed himself to think about his young doctor friend as he tracked his way to the point where he thought to have lost his sense of direction. He had heard that his involvement in the case had already been settled—while that attempted murder would not look nice in his biography, the several circumstances backing up his motives and the witnesses from the community centre sympathising with him, as well as the fact that the assumed victim and the associated people were not in the situation or, uh, medical state to press charges, the inspector scribbled off the incident with a flag on his file. He could very well start a new life.

At least, one person got a resolution from this fiasco.

He had walked away from that island with more questions than answers. His daughter and her involvement were residing in his mental box of unsettling mysteries to uncover later as her words haunted him again in courtesy of that person from before—note to self to inform the inspector about that.

"An infinite death loop?!"

—okay, that was really out of context.

He stopped by the door from behind he thought to have heard the previous sentence. He was grateful to have distanced himself from the scramble because the conversing parties immediately lowered the volume. He could not help but think that those voices were familiar—

"Keep it down. This information must not get out."

"Uh, okay—but really, what?"

Kudo. Kudo and that old professor neighbour of his.

"I said that you shot in the air with your theory. I did too—both of us happily assumed that my time travel was a single occasion while we had no actual evidence backing that up. Hold back your guilt trip, professor, neither of us could have possibly known anything about, well, this."

Whaa—?

"It should be my responsibility to be aware of the science."

"If you could determine the exact nature of time travel from my crappy explanations, you would have already solved the problems of the world and would be chilling off in Hawaii as one of the richest people on earth. You have done and thought through everything you could. Your idea was logical based on the information we had at that point, not to mention that understanding a phenomenon does not mean influencing it. You are not at fault because of my condition. I actually like it. I have the brain to overthrow an organisation trying to pull the world on strings and technically an infinite number of chances to do so—a good combination."

"You say that when the trigger of your ability is—"

"—death, yeah. Akai-san always said one life is not enough to get to them, jokes on him."

"You forgot what my condition of joining you was. You have to value yourself more than using yourself as a disposable sacrifice. Your apparent ability of time manipulation is indeed powerful, very, very powerful, but is wicked and sick and plain insane—you are not allowed to include that in your plans. No matter how noble or righteous a cause is, your sanity is not a prize you should ever pay with dying over and over for its sake."

"I would pay that prize and you know it, professor."

A moment of silence.

"Your parents are going to skin me."

A laughter way too honest for the conversation sounded from inside. His mind buzzed with what he had just overheard—he had an urge to search for the candid camera but again, these people were not aware of his presence. They had no reason to lie or deceive anyone but he could not help his scepticism. Time travel through the death of the individual was distasteful even for a joke. If he thought about it though, assuming it to be true would shed light on more things he would admit with a good conscious. If he thought about it, this outrageous idea would explain many of the anomalies marring their everyday life—if not each of them.

Kudo as a time traveller—almost like the—

He legitimately felt cold as his ears dutifully continued picking up the words.

"I can enlighten them when the time comes, no need to worry."

"I was—anyways. What does this change?"

His hand sneaked towards the knob in the hesitant thought of busting through the door and demand a thorough explanation on the dangerous thought formulating in his mind and clarify the intentions of the teen, the intentions that had kept his mind running in circles in his daydreams, once and for all—

"Little actually. While even with this kind of failsafe is comfortable to have, this is not quite useful unless we can figure out exactly how to control the leaps. I was just jumping to random points in the original timeline in those couple of minutes of clinical death—damn, this is strange to talk about—and found the way back to this timeline through coincidence. I did in a relatively small number of leaps—I mean statistically, it should have taken more tries to randomly find myself in the same timeline again—, which is why controlling this ability should be possible according to my deduction. I did something in the last leap that threw me back—or there are rules—"

"Uh, point is that your activity as the prophet would continue."

His face rapidly lost its colour.

Kudo was the prophet.

Kudo was the prophet.

Kudo was—

"Mouri-san, is there something wrong? You look awful."

He jumped akin to a scaredy cat. He was certain that looking back at the patrolling officer with his pale face was not the most reassuring reaction he could give about his condition. He never even noticed him coming, enveloped in eavesdropping the conversation that made insanity look like laughing stock taking place on the other side of the thin door. He was tempted to call the inspector and get this sorted out right away, half of his mind was telling him to do so but—

"Ah, nothing. I happened to forget my noon coffee, ha-ha."

"Thank goodness. I thought you were sick there."

"I—I appreciate the concern."

He kept the fake smile on his face until the officer disappeared in the corridor.

Then, he glued back to the door. He did not expect the conversation inside to pause entirely. An uncomfortable pressure weighted his chest as the silence grew heavier with every passing second. His eyes trailed to the knob again—perhaps they had heard him talking and this unsettling silence was an invitation to come in, or they had finished their discussion while he was evading detection. He kept the secret that was enveloping his daughter in its vast and strange web for some reason.

His hand grabbed that damn knob and twisted it on a whim.

As he stepped into the room, the first thing to steal his attention was the curtain waving in the winter breeze blowing through the opened window. It casted a nondescript shadow on the bedsheets appearing as blinding whiteness in the sunlight glinting on it here and there. A hand was resting on the bedsheets, a shade paler than healthy and infusion tube embedded in the skin. He was wary of what he would find on the face belonging to the person cooped up in the hospital bed. He thought that he was about to witness an unknown side of him, a side filled with either cold manipulation or flaring anger at facing exposure.

Kudo Shinichi was neither.

He was looking at him as he would on an average workday. His features were relaxed and conveyed curiosity towards his presence rather than the awaited disapproval and upset. He flashed a small smile, an honest and genuine smile with a tint of sadness suiting that glint of hollowness in his eyes that he had been too blind to see. Apart from the considerable amount of pain he was hiding, he was at ease while his deepest secrets laid in the air open for discussion.

He looked at the professor too, trying to find a sign that the previous conversation actually happened. Had he not seen the perplexed emotions tempting to take over the old man, he would have led himself to believe that the last couple of minutes had been the conduction of his sleep-deprived mind.

"You look like to have heard everything."

He snapped his attention back to the teen.

"Kudo—you—you are—"

His mouth betrayed him. He meant to question his identity, intentions, the truth behind the scenes but the sudden confrontation was too overwhelming. His stillness was bothering him—like he did not understand the severity of the situation whereas he knew he did.

"The door, if you would."

His hand obeyed. He could not miss this chance.

"You might want to sit down for this."

In hindsight, he was glad to have done so.

"Let me summarize this—you originally came from a timeline where you were poisoned and shrunk into a child by a crime organisation whose deal you wanted to eavesdrop. That also happened after you took my daughter out on a date and so, she came searching for you when you went missing. You lied about your identity and convinced my daughter and me to let you stay with us. You solved my cases and made me a famous detective through putting me to sleep and performing a deduction with my voice—oh, and that tranquilizer dart and voice changer were only two of the gadgets the professor made for you to match an adult in investigation."

He did not mean that as a compliment, yet the old professor seemed to take it as one.

"Neither of us knew your identity for years and had grown attached to you as a child. You were snooping around for that organisation that shrunk you meanwhile and found allies of all sort. After years of technically nothing, the organisation found out the identities of you and another woman in your shoes, which and the questionable meddling of your father triggered a confrontation between the underworld and a crapload of law and intelligence agencies. A lot of people associated to you died—"

He swallowed hesitantly. "I did too, is that right?"

He received a guilty silence.

"Ran—what about her?"

"I went down sooner than she could have. I took her and went into hiding in Hokkaido. I directed those few who remained and continued supporting our cause despite the changing tides from the background. I knew that it was over but kept on resisting because coexistence with them was not an option. It was impossible to do so even if my values would have allowed compromise—they hunted me with all their power and would have killed me on sight if they had found me. We were stuck in a stalemate, out of which was one way—Akai-san. While his name is not familiar to you now, at that point, he was the beacon of hope."

He had never heard the teen talk so highly about another.

"I entrusted him with initiating the countermeasures. He was able to do what was necessary to turn the tables using his connections that evaded the deeper roots of the organisation here. Ran went with him—I had to trick her into leaving, otherwise she would have followed me to hell itself. I was caught soon afterwards but that was of no importance. I had to keep my mouth shut so as not to expose our last shot at a better future to failure."

He did not want to question the details of that. He thought he knew.

It explained why the teen was so adamant on taking down this organisation. If it was true, their opponent was more formidable than he ever imagined. It went beyond the eeriness of the task force meetings, the rumours within the police and the mysterious cases pervading his life. His mundane problems paled in comparison to a power reigning in the shadows of society, mercilessly eliminating anyone standing in their path to even more. He begun to understand why the teen was determined to use time itself to break this regime about to form, even if that meant taking crazy risks and slowly breaking himself in the process piece by piece.

"I spend a month or two in there, I lost track of time early on. I knew not to expect anyone to come but then—I found myself back when everything has begun, before they fed me that poison that turned me into a child. I thought they dosed me with some drugs but now, I know better—"

He knew what he would hear but that did not make it less unsettling.

"I died and leaped back in time."

He wondered how the teen could make it sound like no big deal.

"Shinichi—"

He could see that the professor shared his thoughts.

"I was merely stating the facts. I shared my story with the good old professor here—he was my confidant in the original timeline too. He explained my time travel according to his best knowledge. Also, that kidnapping case the same night was an experiment regarding to my ability to change past events. I ended up saving that little girl back there because my presence unfortunately sped thing up. You were supposed to make it in the nick of time without me."

A wry twitch crossed his face. "An experiment?"

"I had a hard time explaining myself in the first task force meeting. Kuroda-san was right about me. I owe my cover to you and the inspector who unconditionally trusted me and stood up on my behalf. I lied my way through the whole situation—having been contacted and given instructions on busting the deal at Tropical Land. I never followed instructions other than my own. I knew about those members and I directed that car chase on my own accord, not caring if it exposed my future experience. I was running around without a plan then and that had to be cleaned up in order to make my further plans work. I put the responsibility on a phantom."

"And thus, the prophet was born."

He finished the line of thoughts while running a hand through his hair.

"You are the lead detective of your own task force."

He felt the words flying out of his mouth upon the laugh his comment got.

"You make everyone think that you have a hidden agenda, a side to hide from the law with this anonymity whereas you only want to stop this organisation. I know that the police would be more than eager to help you if you come to them—okay, maybe it would take a while to convince them about something like time travel but it would be possible. Look at them now—the task force, the officers following your intentions. You only gave us a headache and a number of sleepless nights with this ridiculous façade. You could have requested a conversation with the inspector or the police heads and have all the help you needed. I see no reason for you to hide from us."

He was startled at how quickly the teen turned serious.

"I wonder. If the inspector knew, how many other police members would get a tip?"

"He would be required to include this information in his reports for integrity—and his superiors would more than likely find out sooner or later. I would assume it to be around four or five people—Matsumoto-kanrikan, Kuroda-kanrikan, Odagiri-keishicho and Hakuba-keishisoukan—"

"And any of them could be a potential leak."

He blinked owlishly upon the daring exclamation.

"The higher, the deeper. An organisation that managed to survive the shadow decade would hardly operate without informants and agents in every nook and cranny. As unfortunate it is to assume to worst in every scenario, it is the key to survival and success. I know the cost of failing to consider all possibilities. I decided to involve only those who are upmost trustworthy and would be unavoidable and undesirable to ignore on the long run. You two were on the top of the list."

"You mean my daughter too, or especially her?"

"Ran is my one and only. I kept her in the dark in the original timeline, as mentioned, and nothing good came out of it. I took no chances this time around and laid out my cards shortly before Tsukikage-jima. I wanted to convince her to stay out of it though, because of unforeseen divergences—that means an event happening differently than expected for no apparent reason whatsoever. Butterfly effect, if that sounds more familiar."

"Tsukikage-jima was a result of butterfly effect?"

"As far as the organisation involvement is concerned, it was. We travelled to that island in the original timeline too, based on the handful of clues hinted in the letter you received here too, only that we stumbled upon a string of murders committed by the doctor in the island—"

"Asou-san was supposed to be a serial killer?!"

"He killed the people he hated in my timeline and committed suicide. I went after him when he lit the community centre on himself with the sheet music his father left behind but it was too late. He threw me out the window to save me but—well, the rest is evident. I wanted to find the same sheet music here because he told me then, before his death, that he would have given up on his revenge if he had read that. I knew that would stop him. I missed the involvement of the organisation the last time—probably those people passing prematurely led to their lack of involvement in the original version of the incident. I improvised the rest."

He felt the picture clearing and getting more complex at the same time.

"If so, why was the organisation already there this time around?"

"I believe that was connected to my activity as a prophet, the source of all divergence."

And he could not blame the teen directly for that. He mulled over the infodump that many people would be envious to have been subjected to. As he understood the logic that laid behind the scenes and controlled the actions of the prophet—who was a teenager, if he could call an adult in the body of a teenager one. He could see the order in the happenings and while he did not favour the outcome, he had to admit that he could have not done it much better.

At the end of the day, one question remained.

"You planned to tell me from the beginning, huh. How come?"

"Eh, I thought it was obvious."

"My daughter is the only actual link between us."

"I have seen collaborations based on less. At first glance, I earn nothing apart from another potential ally with sharing a secret of this value with you, a broke detective without a name or influence to be mentioned—no offence, but the police or a more competent law agency would be more logical even with the risks. You were told because of our relation in the future, not in the present. This is all behind it—you can call it selfish or whatever."

"I would never be able to handle half of this and you know it."

"I know you better than you know yourself, lazy old man."

"I can't win an argument against you today, it seems."

His attempt at lifting the mood dried up in the whirlpool of thoughts in his mind. While he was intimidated by the envisaged events, he had already decided where his allegiances laid. He felt shame at the thought of backing out—not only would that mean abandoning his daughter who was already deeply involved and determined to become a valuable asset despite her lack of experience and professional knowledge but all he considered moral would lose meaning too. His sole regret was not being able to tell his old friends, the inspector and the first division detectives the truth and unite everyone under the same cause but hey, beggars could not be choosers.

If it was to choose between keeping a secret or letting a bunch of criminals rule the country, his choice would be of no question. He had been ready to face them since the incident three days ago, he just did not expect to end up doing so under the prophet himself.

Accepting the conditions, he felt it alright to pose a question before leaving.

"What is the next step in that plan of yours?"

"I'll call to the police again, this time a little different one though."

"A different one—"

He quickly bit back his sentence as the teen tensed up. He could also hear the footsteps from the corridor a couple of seconds later—it had to be the inspector and the police after the half hour had passed without his notice. He wanted to speak with the two people present but restrained himself for the future good. He was lucky to be one step ahead of both the police and the organisation in contrary of the secret time traveller, even if he had to wait for further instructions.

He looked the teen in the eyes, which were conveying a clear message.

The door opened with a beaming inspector. "Kudo-kun, welcome back to the land of living! I know that you still in need of rest but we were hoping in your assistance by answering some of the questions that had arisen after—wait, Mouri-kun? What are you doing here already?"

"Ah, I happened to find his room and we talked shortly."

"I see. You're welcomed to stay further though."

"I would rather leave, actually. I have touched upon all the topics of my interest."

He walked past to surprised inspector. "Okay, then."

He walked out the door with completely different emotions than he entered. He still had a mixed bag of feelings but discussing the matters helped to put things to their places. He looked back once more before disappearing from the conversation and lending the stage to the teen, wordlessly saying that he would keep the secret and help him despite the past skirmishes between them. While his message was understood, he felt like adding a sentence he never thought he would say to him.

"Thank you, for protecting my daughter."

"Uh, this is the number of the office of division one, MPD."

"Good evening, detective. Code: 4869."

"Code 48—ohmygod—"

"I need you people to find a woman going by the name Hirota Masami."

Published: 21/10/2022

Yay, another chapter ready. If it was not clear after the previous chapter, this takes place in the timeline where chapter nine ended. I would also like to add that I am, similarly to many fanfiction writers out there, not a medical professional, so take the hospital stuff with a grain of salt, or maybe a lot of salt.

A few replies to reviews: yes, the story has the outlines grounded. I have to admit that this originally started out as an experiment on taking a concept and weaving a story chapter by chapter without planning anything beforehand. I soon realised that was not the best of ideas. I still give a lot of space for new thoughts, mostly because the best of them often come during the writing process randomly. I decided not to rewrite the old chapters despite the lack of insight at the beginning, because they still make sense from the perspective of the characters. I consider removing that note from the end of the second chapter to avoid confusing new readers though.

And yes, Shinichi/Ran content. There will be romance, though the story itself is not very romance centred. This arc, for apparent reasons laid out in this chapter, will not contain a lot of screentime for our favourite couple, well, it depends on my preference when arranging scenes, but this story still has a long way to go.

I do not cross post, nor I have an idea about how AO3 works.