Mission Ten: A Despicable Liar
Shinichi had never been good with children.
It was a major flaw in his character that he had learned to recognize in himself, long before he himself had shrunk into one in an ironic turn of events. Had he been asked when he had discovered it, Shinichi wasn't sure if he would have been able to give a proper answer, but he had the vaguest of memories that he had associated it with ─ not a distant one, probably dating back to at least a year before the present, but smudged over by the several thousand cases that came afterwards.
One that included Ran flashing him a furious glare as she held a tiny child, maybe a toddler even, closer to her. Angling her body so the kid was as far away from him as possible, as if he was something so terrible that this innocent creature had to be kept away from.
As he stood there awkwardly, racking his prodigiously brilliant mind for anything to do, her frown had deepened ─ a child's wailing disturbing the silence otherwise existent between both teenagers.
"You just don't get it, do you?!" Ran had screamed at him.
He still didn't get it, truth to be told ─ children, and their inherent power to bring together all that was illogical in this world and make it make sense. Make sense to their extremely young minds exclusively, but enough to live comfortably in their imaginary world, or whatever.
How did this happen? was probably the question that summarized everything going on in Conan's brain. He could have sworn that these children had said something about hunting ghosts ─ which, logically, should be an extremely scary experience for those willing to believe.
But now they all were collectively ignoring the tense atmosphere they had tried to recreate, singing some song that, while foreign to Conan's ears, had Anya cheerfully humming along ─ reason for which he suspected it was the opening theme from some anime show children liked to watch these days.
He wondered how long it would take them to notice that he had trailed somewhere far off where they were, hands too tiny, legs too short to keep it from falling, that one vase Genta had ─ unknowingly ─ bumped into.
Eventually, when he managed to safely place it back on the stool where it belonged, Conan allowed himself to breathe out. That was his mother's favorite vase, and shrunken or not, he knew there would be no escaping her wrath once she returned home to find its pieces scrambled all over the hallway. Which wouldn't be all that bad, actually ─ he had been telling her forever to throw that thing away, for it served no further use besides being a waste of space ─ but he'd prefer not having that shady organization ultimately finding his pieces scrambled all over the nearest river.
She can be scary sometimes, he thought, standing back to contemplate the vase he had valiantly fought, and succeeded, to save. My mom.
He wondered if being terrifying was a prerequisite to being a mother ─ be it real, or a highly convincing impostor.
Unprompted, the memory of a tall figure standing before him and the pale features of the criminal Conan had tried to confront all alone, earlier today, came to mind. Of course, the sickening crack of fingers that came seconds later still made him physically wince, but it was his expression, wordlessly describing pure, genuine horror, what would probably stick for a while. One that had stirred that sense of curiosity that made him a detective, that left him wanting to know what kind of face Yor had shown him, as well as wish ignorance for the rest of his mortal existence.
She definitely filled the terrifying quota. Surprisingly enough, especially with that sweet undertone carried over by her voice whenever she talked, or that radiant, kind smile that Conan had thought permanently affixed to her features. She really is the perfect replica of a mother.
His gaze drifted downward, settling themselves on the tip of his bright red, tiny shoes.
A mother, huh, echoed in his mind. And suddenly, his right pocket felt just a little heavier ─ reminding him of that certain item he was not supposed to possess, awaiting its time to share its contents with him. Hopefully, it would be the definite evidence he needed to piece together the mystery behind this woman, once and for all.
Such had been the reason that had propelled him forward and up those stairs. Maybe it would be his chance to do away with it, for once and for all.
That being said, the cassette tape felt slightly cold against his fingertips. Conan wondered why.
"What about you, Conan-kun?"
Conan blinked rapidly. Ayumi had turned to glance at him from over her shoulder, expectant. Just as her eyebrows started to inch closer to each other, the shrunken detective hurried to catch up with the rest of the group ─ and hoped that a friendly laugh, no matter how forced it sounded to his ears, would keep her from realizing he hadn't heard a word at all.
Against common belief, or rather his own expectations, Genta saved him from having to articulate a proper, contextually reasonable sentence. He wouldn't have been successful anyhow, being real.
"He's definitely the villager!" Genta declared. "I'm the hero, of course."
Conan wondered if seeking coherency in their conversation was worth anything in the end.
"I'm the cute girl warrior!" Ayumi exclaimed, grinning.
Mitsuhiko thought about it for a little while longer. "And I'm the smart wizard!"
Oh, they were talking about those RPG archetypes, weren't they? He thought he had Aizawa talk his head off once, going on and on about this cool video game he'd lost sleep over. Sadly, neither he nor Nakamichi of the other two had been nearly as invested in the conversation as he was with his games, and eventually they managed to stir it back to that upcoming Big Osaka vs. Tokyo Spirits' soccer match he had been waiting for all week.
The match ended up with a narrowing win from the Tokyo Spirits, and Shinichi had predicted that was all that they'd talk about throughout the school day. Needless to say, he hadn't made it, and had been helpless to do anything but to imagine how that conversation went, all the way from his all-too-big hospital bed.
Conan mentally pinched his own cheek. Alright, back to topic.
He seemed to be straying out lately, more often than usual. Perhaps it was because of where he was, roaming through the darkened hallways of his own house with a bunch of children in tow ─ together like this, he supposed they really resembled a fighting party advancing through a dungeon in some kind of game. It was surprisingly fitting, somehow.
Anya had fallen silent, a look of utter concentration pinching her face. It made him smile a little.
"What would you be?" he asked her.
Nothing had prepared him for the severe expression that met him when she turned her head to him. With a serious tone in her voice, she answered, "The nation's toughest spy, Agent Anya."
It was hard to keep his face from falling. "Does that even count?"
"Why not?" Ayumi shrugged.
Genta nodded his head, showing his approval. "It sounds cool!"
"Then, instead of the villager, could I be-?"
"No."
Just ─ okay, fine. He didn't even want to be part of their stupid game to begin with, so they could do whatever they wanted as long as they kept their little hands to themselves and off his things ─ off his books, for crying out loud. He sure hoped they didn't realize he was discreetly leading them away from the library because, no, he'd rather lose a limb than let them in there.
Also, Anya should totally stop staring at him like that at such random moments-
Until, suddenly, she wasn't. Her head had snapped up, alarmed by a random creaking sound that had literally come out of nowhere, and the next thing he was aware of were small hands clutching his shirt from behind.
Which he wouldn't have minded at all, except that Anya hadn't moved from her spot ─ eyeing the darkness in front of them with nothing but sheer curiosity. Later, he recognized the hands as Ayumi's, and one unamused glance backwards confirmed that the other two were also there; the skilled wizard, the powerful warrior, and the brave hero all trembled with fear as they hid behind the scrawny villager.
Conan rolled his eyes. "I'll go check," he told them.
Ayumi nodded, slowly and fearfully. Not even stopping to look back once, Conan departed from his group ─ their shouted words of encouragement, as well as their heartfelt wishes of good luck still clear to his ears, even after he had disappeared around a corner and out of their sight.
The culprit of their distress did not take long to show itself in the form of an opened door that blocked most of the hallway. Hardly the one to give up even after being spotted, the creaking hardly stopped at all, and that door continued to waver slightly, as if subjected by some invisible force it couldn't fight against. As if it had suddenly become a sentient being by an ancient magic spell, and somehow was inviting him inside.
Conan took a breath in, and took his first hesitant step forward.
Peering inside the room, he found a window ─ wide open to leave the chilly breeze of the night to push the door open, and unwittingly painting a horrifying monster in those children's minds right now. The boy grumbled to himself as he closed the door with a gentle click, and crossed the room to repeat the process, with the window this time.
Now, that was one mystery solved, he supposed. He probably should get going, or those children would start worrying that he was spirited away or something. No matter how tempting it would be to hide himself and get some more minutes or peace, he reckoned it wouldn't be worth having a bunch of panicked first graders stomping around his things, or yelling loud enough to wake up the Professor next door.
That being said, his hands did not move from where they were, gripping at the windowsill. His eyes wouldn't tear away from the sight ahead, a darkened street he used to stare at for hours, watching out for the moment that a young Ran finally stumbled by after waiting for so long, so that they could play together.
I wonder if the Professor left it open, Shinichi wondered. For the first time, he noticed that the window was sparkly clean, and now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember finding a single speckle of dust throughout this entire house. I wonder if he has been there…
Suddenly, he couldn't see the outside anymore, and not for the first time, that same child stared back at him ─ with those same disturbingly old eyes of his that Shinichi could not, or didn't want to, understand. His lips were moving, his whisper echoed in his mind,
I wonder if Ran has been here.
He broke eye-contact, resting his forehead against the glass ─ relishing in the cold feel against his cheek, a makeshift anchor to the reality his mind had been trying to take him away from all night long. Eyes closed shut tightly, because he was afraid he would actually see the ghosts Ayumi and the others had been looking for so long. The ghosts of his past, that had tirelessly been chasing through this haunted house of his.
It would be a matter of time, however. Eventually, he had to spin around, and allow his gaze to take every detail around him, in a single sweep.
There he was met by the most mundane sight of all, one that he had grown accustomed to during these long sixteen years of life. A bed that had warmed every cold night since he could remember. His shelves were overflowing with his favorite books, all borrowed from the library in his father's office for easier access, and on top of them, in a perpetually unstable state of equilibrium, was the old battered soccer ball Professor Agasa had gifted him on his eighth birthday.
A small smile played at Shinichi's lips as his fingers brushed against the smooth wooden surface of a desk stuffed somewhere in the corner of his room. That was the place where he had spent most of his earlier teenage days, he recalled, back when his father was home and claimed the library as his office. Where he would devote himself to those cold case files he had managed to steal from his desk, well until the next morning when he had to head back to school and pretend to be a normal, and absolutely not severely sleep-deprived, human being.
Middle school was hard, he thought, stepping away to leave. Or at least, that was his intention, before he spotted something he had not expected to see there, something so foreign to that desk that he had to pick it up to scrutinize it.
It was a black knight chess piece. What's this doing here?
He scanned the desk for more clues, but found nothing that would explain its presence. Lowering his gaze to his feet, however, he found it ─ there, in danger of being stomped over by accident, a strange piece of paper. Further inspection revealed it was a postcard, so confused, the boy crouched over to pick it up.
The printed words that read 'Tropical Land', along with the humanoid squirrel mascot thingy Ran had adored so much were, strange as that sounded, not what had caught his attention. Rather, it was the pen-written strokes, her eternally beautiful handwriting, what had taken his breath away.
"Shinichi, where are you?
Please call me…
Or rather, call me immediately!"
He didn't quite realize he was on his knees until he tore his eyes away from the note she'd written. A photograph lay in front of him, initially hidden from him by the desk, probably having slipped under by a gust of wind from his open window. Gingerly, Shinichi picked it up.
There was a careless grin stretched all over Shinichi's teenage face as Ran shuffled closer to him, seeking a place in the picture ─ her smile sincere, radiant like it, no, like she had always been.
They had taken that one in Tropical Land, he remembered ─ a happy, albeit fleeting, instant in their lives captured by the camera lens. Little had any of them known that this would be the last photo they would ever take together; an accidental memento of the life Shinichi had thrown away.
With the reappearance of that same creaking sound from before, the door opened. Just a crack, just enough for a set of large emerald orbs to stare back at his bewildered self.
Genta's head popped up right above Anya's.
"Oh, that's where you went!" he exclaimed. "Good job, Anya!"
He was half-tempted to shove it closed on their faces and use his desk as a barricade, but then Ayumi opened it fully and single-handedly spoiled his plans.
"Geez, don't just disappear like that!" she complained. "I was worried a ghost caught you!"
"Like I said, there is no such a thing as ghosts," Mitsuhiko said, inviting himself to Shinichi's room. "Everything has a logical, scientific explanation. For instance, the sound we heard must have been caused by-" He faltered, his face strangely white when he looked ahead. Before Conan could ask, he murmured, "T-The window is…?"
Conan didn't even blink. "I just closed it."
Hand on his chest, Mitsuhiko breathed out. The bespectacled boy hesitated, unsure of how to react, but soon that wasn't all that important any longer since strands of pink-colored hair had covered his field of view out of nowhere.
Anya was leaning over, trying to catch a glimpse of the photograph in his hands ─ the photograph of himself, of Ran, and the past they once shared.
His smile may have been small, but he liked to think that it became a little more genuine as he offered it to the curious little girl.
"I found this thing," he told her while raising to his feet. Discreetly, he slipped the note inside his pocket, because that was definitely out of limits. "It was lying on the floor."
So, he allowed his pretend little sister to hold the prized picture between her two small hands, and to be gawked at until she was satisfied. Though he'd admit to feeling a little self-conscious when the other three huddled together to peek from over her shoulder.
Especially when Mitsuhiko suddenly gasped. "Wait, isn't this the famous high school detective, Shinichi Kudo?!"
"Is he famous?" Ayumi squinted her eyes. "I think I've seen him somewhere, but…"
Conan flinched and turned his face away, pretending to busy himself with the chess piece left on the desk ─ as if he hadn't scrutinized it to the most subtle detail before these kids got there.
Momentarily, he wondered what could this thing be doing in a place like this. Perhaps Ran had taken it from where they kept it in the library, after a long, frustrating search for a paperweight they somehow didn't have. It was probably the best she could manage, so he'd give her a pass.
"Does that mean we're in the house of such an important person?" Ayumi continued, smiling from ear to ear. "Wow, lucky~!"
"I thought you said the 'Kuoos' lived here," Genta pointed out, sending her a look.
"Hmm… Maybe I misread it?"
Now that I'm at it… Let's see if I can find that cassette player while those kids are busy.
Conan opened his closet, trusting both the surrounding darkness and his ability to be extremely quiet when necessary to keep the kids from noticing him snooping around ─ snooping around his own room, to be fair.
He glanced down at the few boxes he had chucked in there a while back, certain that he had left it somewhere over there.
Woah, there's a lot of dust here, he thought, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he checked. Unlike the rest of the house, this place definitely hadn't even been considered as a part of Ran's ─ or Agasa's, in a much less likely chance to happen ─ cleaning crusade.
Well, Shinichi didn't blame her ─ or him. He hadn't touched this place in ages either, which, ironically, was probably the prime reason it had been ignored for so long to begin with. Seriously, just one breath in the surrounding, heavily polluted air and was sure he'd end up in a heap on the ground coughing Conan's tiny lungs out.
Completely oblivious of their last member's disappearance, Ayumi glanced over to where her new female friend was. Anya had been staring at the picture for a long time by now, her eyes gleaming in something akin to curiosity, or even amazement.
It had Ayumi smiling, and asking, "Do you know him, Anya-chan?"
She replied with an energetic nod. "He's a super exciting detective that solves cases!"
"Right?!" Mitsuhiko exclaimed, his face bright. "I find the way he solves his cases so amazing!"
"And the way he defeats the evil guys is so cool!" For emphasis, the girl kicked the air as if mimicking the image embedded in her mind. "Justice Kick, go! Bam!"
Conan almost choked to death, and he couldn't really blame the dust for his murder attempt. Justice… Kick? He had never said that ─ never, ever, he could swear. His moribund teenage ego begged for the chance to testify against it and sue a literal child for slander too, if that was possible.
"Anya sometimes sees him in the news," Anya explained after her embarrassing demonstration of… whatever anime series he had mixed him in. "He usually shows up right after Bondman is over."
He wished he could charge the TV media for that, but unfortunately, Shinichi had already given them his consent. He'd thought it would be neat to be filmed as he apprehended criminals, and certainly it had made wonders for his overly fed self-esteem. But now that she'd worded it like that, he was seriously starting to regret it.
"High school detectives are incredible!" Mitsuhiko exclaimed, his eyes sparkling in such a palpable admiration that warmed Shinichi's severely wounded heart ─ and ego. "Saguru Hakuba, Natsuki Koshimizu, Harley Hartwell, Junya Tokitsu, Masumi Sera… Oh, I wish I could be like them!"
Nobody noticed the slight widening of Ayumi's eyes.
Anya nodded excitedly, bouncing in her spot, until her smile froze on her face.
"Who are those people?" she asked.
Mitsuhiko stared back, his excitement dead at the hands of confusion.
"Hey, Mitsuhiko-kun. I was thinking…" Ayumi began, slowly, as if thinking through her every word. "Instead of being like them, we could be better."
Conan's hands stopped inside the box he was shuffling through, wondering if he had heard things correctly.
"We've been doing a great job so far," she continued, a familiar smile, that Conan decidedly did not like, possessing her once angelic face. "Thoroughly investigating this haunted mansion like professionals."
The only detective in the room begged to differ. And almost wanted to breathe in the cloud of dust on purpose, hoping for fate to let him cough enough to warrant himself a fainting spell. Or literally anything else that would impede him from kneeling down there and listening to whatever this cunning demon of a girl was scheming ─ at the expense of his poor mental health, he'd bet.
"What are you talking about?" Genta paused, pondered over it, then finally gasped. "Hey, you're not saying…"
She nodded, "You know what's more impressive than a high school detective?" and grinned wider. "A group of elementary school detectives!"
Conan had the feeling that this shouldn't be happening under any circumstances. He stood up from his place, approaching the group as if he could prevent the tragedy if he tried hard enough.
"Let's make a detective club!" Ayumi proposed. "All five of us!"
Genta smiled from ear to ear. "I'm claiming the leader spot!"
Mitsuhiko considered it for a while, and when he was done, a smile appeared on his face as well. "That sounds interesting."
Anya pumped her fist in the air, adding, "And exciting!"
"No." Though gasping for air, Conan finally caught up with them ─ setting a pair of likely dirty hands on each of Anya's shoulders. "Not… Not exciting."
"Don't be like that, Conan-kun!" Ayumi argued, but Conan had long decided that one agreement they had made would be the last time he listened to her. "If you don't want to do it for yourself, then do it for Anya-chan!"
As if on cue, the aforementioned little girl spun on her heels, gazing deep into his eyes with her large, brilliant eyes, blinking once. Conan had to wonder if she had mastered that lost puppy look through a load of hard work, or if she had rolled with it on the spot and turned out to be a genius in the making.
Too bad Conan had been practicing that one lately. Being a user himself gave him immunity.
He crossed his arms over his chest, seizing her with an unamused stare, and said, "Don't think those puppy eyes will make the wind blow in your favor-"
And then stopped himself, staring up at space.
Make the wind blow… His eyes shifted from the children's bewildered, sort of worried, glances to gaze at the photograph in Anya's hands. The photo and the note I found on the floor must have been blown away by the wind coming from the window I just closed.
That being the case… He looked over at the lone chess piece sitting at his desk and stilled. If Ran used that thing as a paperweight… How did that happen?
Someone must have moved it. But who? Why would the Professor do that? More like, would the Professor do that?
"Conan-kun," Mitsuhiko asked, his voice distant. "Are you okay?"
He didn't get a reply, instead was forced to watch as the boy wordlessly turned away from his sister and headed away, as if in some sort of trance. They watched vanish somewhere to the back of the room, where the moonlight wasn't able to reach and the shadows of the night prevailed.
Conan kneeled over the boxes, staining his eyes to see better. He was counting on the most imperceptible details and their power to become the key to solve this mystery, the same way they always did in the most complex cases he had encountered in the past. There had to be something there ─ his instinct as a detective was screaming at him. But where-?
That box. There was a faint smudge in the dust accumulated over the years on the floor of his wardrobe, as if it had been recently dragged over ─ to be checked over? he wondered. Wasting no time, he leaned over to check, and to both his great surprise and horror, he found that his mother had once labeled it for him.
In permanent black marker, it read,
"Shin-chan's Children Clothes"
He wasn't sure of when his hands had started shaking, or where this feeling had come from ─ that of his mind drowning with endless questions, and failing to find a single answer to keep himself afloat.
Why would the Professor…? Why would Ran…?
It didn't make sense ─ nobody had even attempted to clean this spot. Which would mean that someone had only gotten there to check on his old childhood clothes. But for what reason? It would be illogical to think that any of them would… out of the blue…
An image of the keyhole in his front door suddenly popped up in his mind, slicing the sea of doubt in half for him to contemplate those few faint scratches he had found as interesting as foreign. The more he looked at them, the less they resembled an old accident he couldn't remember, but something fairly more recent.
More like… a result of lock-picking.
It wasn't the Professor. He sucked in a deep breath. It wasn't Ran, either.
Masami Hirota's fragile smile came to his memory. And then, with the cry of a crow, a wave toppled over him ─ fiercer, much stronger than ever before. Thus unable to even gasp for air, the boy found himself sinking and sinking into a pitch black, unrelenting darkness.
"The members are fond of wearing it… B-Black clothes, as if they're crows…"
But all of a sudden, there was light ─ a white-hot brightness that had him shielding his burning retinas with his arm. Just before he could even orient himself, and wonder what was going on, he heard children's laughter.
"See, the light still works!"
It didn't take him long to find him, now that the darkness had parted to let him see the culprit ─ Genta, and his naïve, proud little smile as he stood by the room's light switch. His heart skipped a beat at the realization, but at the next one, Conan had already gotten to where Genta was.
He quickly flicked the light off and slumped over the wall to recover his breath. Now more than ever, he wished he could pretend there were no gazes stabbing at the back of his head right now, but since he couldn't actually do that, he had to face his group.
Conan decided he would never complain about their loud antics ever again, for their silence was far more telling.
"It…" He moistened his lips. The smile on his face was so forced that it actually hurt. "It will scare the ghosts away!"
Three out of four exchanged dubious glances, probably due to their inability to make up their minds about what they had just witnessed.
But there was also that certain pink haired girl, who just stared ─ right into his soul, as usual. It was that kind of look that Conan usually had to disregard for the lack of a better explanation of her behavior, but this time, he didn't. He held her inquisitive gaze, asking without uttering a single word, what had she found ─ what had she seen that Shinichi himself wasn't able to perceive. Yet, she offered no answers.
He didn't have time to be verbal about his inquiries, for everything scattered away with the slam of a door. His front door.
The exchanged glances turned from perplexity to fear; Ayumi clamped a hand to her own mouth to muffle a blood-curdling scream, while the other two boys frantically looked around, searching for a way out that Conan knew they wouldn't find.
Anya had just lifted his gaze from his face, just a little above his head, attentive to every sound that could reach her ears. Which was infinitely better than Conan could ever manage to do, for the rush of blood was everything he could hear ─ his raspy breathing, his galloping heart, the little voice in the back of his head whispering the same words, over and over again,
They are coming. His hands were sweaty, the edges of his vision blurring and darkening ─ he felt as though he could faint at any moment, yet at the same time, he felt as if he couldn't even do that right.
They must have been watching this place, he realized. And because Genta turned the light on earlier, they now know that there are people here.
And even though he knew far less about these people than he would like to, Shinichi knew how ruthless they were ─ unafraid to poison a teenager if it meant getting away with their crimes. Who was there to say they wouldn't resort to the most violent of elimination methods the moment they were spotted by a harmless, bespectacled little kid that just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong moment?
He didn't need to be a detective to deduce what the outcome would be.
I'm going to die.
Her hand on his shoulder startled him, but not as much as the serene, confident smile that crept up Anya's face. Before he could even gasp a question out, she'd nodded and brushed right past him.
Confused, Conan turned around as the door creaked open. The girl had paused to face him one last time.
"Don't worry," she said. "Agent Anya is going to check."
And promptly disappeared for sight, the sound of her shoes as she ran away the only sign she had been there to begin with, and eventually even that was gone. Her absence marked a moment of silence, followed by the deafening fall of the realization ─ as a bucket of ice water, dripping all over the sea of doubts once filling his mind and freezing everything in reach.
With the first crack, realization came.
She's going to die.
And by the second one, the shrunken detective was already rushing out of the room ─ allowing his legs to take control, to take him through the halls of his own home as quickly as they could. Not even letting his mind even think of what would happen to that one girl if they found her first. Of what they would do to her, of what he would find ─ if he ever found her at all. If they…
No. He pushed himself off the wall as he got to the corner, forcing himself to keep on moving forward. That isn't going to happen.
He needed to hurry ─ he needed to run faster. He needed to find her.
I won't let them.
Her distinctive hair color attracted his gaze way before his brain could point it out. She seemed to have sensed his presence or heard his steps, both of which he hadn't tried to hide in his hurry, because by the time he realized he could see her, she had already been facing his way.
And when he met her eyes, he thought of the several thousand things he wanted to scream directly at her face; about how she shouldn't run off like that, about her needing to think more carefully before acting, about how many child murderers were currently on the loose and how extremely dangerous it was to run straight towards a potential one…
Yet, as he finally reached her and squeezed her shoulders, everything he could think of was,
"I got you."
Anya blinked back at him, before a big bright smile blossomed on her face. Conan's eyebrow trembled. She clearly did not get her situation at all, now did she?
A chance for an explanation didn't seem viable, however. With a violent wince, Conan's eyes flickered to the staircase ─ there was someone there, he realized with a settling sense of dread. Their steps were all too audible from where they stood, slowly making their way upstairs, closer to them.
Conan gritted his teeth, rapidly seizing her hand. He barely had time to rush into a nearby room before the footsteps grew dangerously louder, stopping right where they had just been, wandering in the darkness to escape the impending danger.
With his hands gripping Anya's shoulders, he willed himself to be still. The intruder had stopped, the shadows of their feet poking out from under the door he had just closed. Hovering, moving back and forth ─ probably unaware of how close they were to their next victim.
They took a deep breath, and then their calls echoed throughout the entire mansion.
"Hello?! Is someone there?!"
Conan's eyes went wide.
That voice… Isn't he-?!
Mitsuhiko had been the third, and hopefully the last, to leave that bedroom. Warned against it by a sobbing Ayumi and a frustrated Genta, the boy had stepped out ─ rushing after the bespectacled young boy, in hopes that he could catch up before any harm could get to any of them.
With Conan's footsteps echoing in the silence of an abandoned home, he didn't find it difficult to keep up with him ─ or at least, it shouldn't have been. The boy was fast, probably forcing himself beyond his own capabilities ─ which, sincerely, Mitsuhiko wouldn't have expected him to be. Not from this boy who, mere seconds ago, was practically shivering, completely paralyzed by fear up until his sister had decided to check on her own.
He, who Mitsuhiko had thought so brave ─ who, alongside his twin, had stood up for him against the man who had tried to abduct him. That fearless young boy who had saved his life…
Finally, he spotted them at the end of the hallway. His hands were on Anya's shoulders, gripping her tightly ─ tightly enough to leave marks, the boy realized. His eyes were on the staircase, wide enough to pop out of their orbits at any second now.
Conan didn't even notice him in his hurry, rushing to hide with Anya inside a room. It didn't sound like him, being so absolutely terrified. But Mitsuhiko had seen him ─ had witnessed it, with his own two eyes.
Eventually, another figure emerged from the stairs, their face shadowed by the ever-enveloping darkness they had been wandering for so long. Mitsuhiko hurried to move closer to a wall, hoping that it would help him not to get discovered by this stranger that had scared Conan this much.
The man stopped, right in front of the room where the twins had hidden. Placing his hands to his mouth, he yelled, "Hello?! Is someone there?!"
Mitsuhiko couldn't help but flinch, a chill running down his back, but managed to keep himself silent. The man continued to look around, his eyes moving dangerously close to where he was, but narrowly avoiding spotting his crouched figure at the end of the corridor.
With his heart leaping at his throat, Mitsuhiko wondered if that was how Conan felt back then. If, under that brave and careless facade, hid a scared boy that wanted nothing to run away. If, deep inside, Conan was no different from his frightened self that they had witnessed earlier. Looking at it like that, he wasn't all that different, now was he?
Now the man had turned to look at that one door, and to his horror, his hand slowly inched towards the knob. Mitsuhiko held back his breath, afraid ─ afraid for those two, of what his own two eyes would witness in the following seconds.
He needed to get away, realized Mitsuhiko ─ to escape while he had the chance. Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could manage to-
His breath hitched, his eyes opening at the epiphany that had struck. That was it, he thought. That was what made him different. The key difference between Conan and everyone else, the one thing that made him special among others.
It wasn't the incapability to feel fear, no. It was the ability to act, despite being terrified to the core.
Could Conan-kun, too, at that time…?
"I wish I could see them again," Mitsuhiko's own words came to mind.
He wasn't sure why he had thought of them at that specific point of time. It hadn't been anything relevant, not really ─ just a comment after the story he had told, fiddling with Genta's soccer ball in his hands. About his kidnapping attempt ─ about the two children that had helped without asking, those who had lent him their hand and disappeared before he could do anything about it.
"I didn't get to thank them," Mitsuhiko had said with a sigh. "They saved me, those two. And I couldn't even…"
Ayumi had hummed for a bit, pondering over his words before her eyes widened. "Wait," she had said. "The boy you're talking about… You mentioned he was wearing an ugly red bowtie, oversized glasses…"
"And an arrogant smirk on his face, yes," the boy had replied, furrowing his brows in confusion.
Which had done nothing but increase exponentially when Ayumi grinned. "Just leave it to me!"
At his side, Genta had blinked, probably feeling just as lost as he was at the moment. She had just giggled in response.
"I'll give you a second chance. Try to make it up to them next time you see them, okay, Mitsuhiko-kun?"
Renowned with determination, the freckled boy stepped firm in the middle of the hallway. He took a deep breath in, then one out.
"Over here!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
And just as the unknown man had started to turn his head to him, Mitsuhiko had already taken off running ─ eyes closed shut as he rushed past, not even daring to see what was going to happen next.
From close ─ closer than he would have been comfortable with, he heard a gasp, and right on cue, he felt the ground disappearing from under his right shoe. His eyes flew open with a hitched breath, just in time to discover a massive staircase ─ whose existence he had momentarily forgotten about, up until this very moment when he tried to get away.
A hand seized his shoulder, pushing him back before he could fall off. And once released, he found his legs giving off to his weight, dropping him to the ground to stare, wide-eyed and beyond horrified, at the face that towered over him, finally visible with the shadows scurrying away.
In front of him, he found a white-haired old man, a mustache growing under a perfectly round nose. Round glasses, and black beads as eyes staring down at him in perpetually surprised expression.
Back flushed against the wall, Mitsuhiko whimpered. The man's hand reached over, inching bit by bit closer to him, fingers stretched, a moment away from grazing his shoulder…
That was when Mitsuhiko screamed.
"Mitsuhiko!"
"Leave Mitsuhiko-kun alone, you thief!"
With a hesitant hand hovering in the air, the man blinked. "T-Thief?" Mitsuhiko heard him mutter, mostly to himself, probably in his own confusion.
He didn't get the chance to ask, as his only possible source for answers was now drowning in screams, toppled over by a pair of elementary school children trying to fistfight him for the sake of their friend. While their attempts to save him endeared him to no end, the pathetic spluttering of the old man gave birth to a strange touch of sympathy, stealing a wince out of him.
That… wasn't quite what he was expecting a child murderer to look like.
"I'm not a thief!" the man screamed, struggling to sit up. Ayumi's hand tugged at his shirt, all but pushing him back down. "I live next door, I swear!"
"Oh, yeah?!" Genta stood back to arch an eyebrow. "Then explain how you got in here!"
Mitsuhiko raised a finger, wondering if he ought to remind Genta of the obvious.
"Technically, it was unlocked, but, uh…" The man shuffled through his pockets for a little, until a relieved smile graced his face. "I got the keys here, see?"
Ayumi was the last to step away, sending a dubious look back at her two friends. With a pained groan, the man rose back to his feet, a hand pressing to his lower back as though that was the sole cause of his discomfort.
"I'm Hiroshi Agasa, a professor and a friend of the owner of his house," he introduced, his words stumbling with one another as if in a hurry to get them out. "I saw the light on and had to check in."
Once more, they all exchanged glances, and just as Agasa was beginning to panic again, they all relaxed, laughing carefree amongst each other. Seeing that made the older man sigh, and wipe the sweat collecting on his brow.
Unanimously, they all decided to head down. None of them noticed Mitsuhiko pause, ever so momentarily to look backwards, and to the lone pink girl peering outside of the door.
Never the ones to be observant enough, Mitsuhiko wasn't even a bit surprised that he found them on his return, placidly chatting with the older man without showing the subtlest signs of ever noticing his disappearance. He shrugged it off, slipping into the group as though he had never left.
"Oh, so ghost hunting, huh?" Agasa was saying, a look of utter understanding crossing his face. "I see. But I don't think you'll find anything like that here."
"We know already," Genta said, crossing his arms over his chest. "This house is boring."
"But don't do that again. You could get in trouble if you keep on breaking into other people's houses," Agasa said with a stern look. "You don't want to worry your parents, do you?"
Ayumi dropped her head, sighing. "You're starting to sound like Conan-kun…" Having said that, she looked back up, her eyes flickering all over the room. "Wait, where is he?"
Agasa fell strangely silent, blinking owlishly at the trio.
"Anya isn't here either," Genta pointed out.
"Ah, Anya-chan told me they were heading home," Mitsuhiko explained. "Conan-kun escaped through the window, apparently."
A snicker pushed past Genta's lips. "What a scaredy-cat."
"Oh, but I think I saw you crying back there," Ayumi replied, smiling. "Big tears, as you tackled this mister into the ground."
"It can't be helped, can it?! I thought I was going to die there!"
After a few attempts to get his words out, Agasa finally managed.
"Conan… kun?" he murmured.
His voice sounded strangely fragile to Mitsuhiko somehow. It confused him at first, but since he could not find any reason for him to do so, he quickly brushed it off as a result of his own overactive imagination.
"Our new friend!" he replied instead, a bright smile on his face. "He's Ayumi-chan's neighbor, and Anya-chan is his twin sister."
"Non-identical twin sister," Genta added while puffing his chest out, proud to have remembered that.
It took Agasa a moment to smooth out the shock off his face ─ a moment fairly longer than what Mitsuhiko would have considered to be normal. But once it was gone, a placid smile drew itself on his features.
"I see. Oh, speaking of which, I have a daughter about your age and I was wondering…"
On the bright side, it seemed like nobody was dying today after all.
On the other, well, Conan suspected these children wouldn't last much longer. For it appeared that the clinical lack of survival skills he had once diagnosed Mitsuhiko with wasn't as much of a rare case, but more than an epidemic between children.
Because he couldn't think of a single reason as to why these children thought it was an excellent idea to follow a stranger into their home. In fact, he would probably have been screaming at this point, all the way from the window he had his nose pressed against. But since the stranger was Agasa, he decided against it.
Both because he trusted him not to murder them in cold blood, and because he didn't trust Them ─ capital 'T' ─ not to murder him in cold blood.
A sigh escaped his lips ─ he was definitely having a word with those kids, if they ever met again. Though the use of conditional was more of a result of wishful thinking, since he knew for a fact that Ayumi wouldn't let him have a ─ mostly ─ peaceful life if she could help it. With her living in the same apartment complex, and the proposal of founding a detective club together, Conan didn't think his future looked too bright.
And don't get me started with Professor Agasa. What was he doing, encouraging such dangerous practices in children? He sure hoped he did explain to those kids that this should be an absolute exception, or else…
Or else… He didn't know what he would do. It wasn't like he could scold him in person. He'd left for a reason, and besides, it would have made all the suffering he'd gone through a moot point.
At least he didn't see me. He ought to be relieved about that, even though, deep down, kind of wanted him to turn around ─ to look at him, the lone boy peering outside from his beloved library's window. There was a part of him that urged him to chase after him, to talk to him ─ to tell him he was alright, to be told that he wasn't alone in this world.
That it would be okay if he just went back home.
But instead, Shinichi watched him from afar through Conan's big, round eyes. His mustache moved slightly with every smile, in the same way Shinichi had always found it so distracting, even if it was somehow fitting. He could see him stopping at his front door to tap his pockets, in a frantic search for the keys Shinichi knew he wouldn't have ─ and wouldn't need, either, because he hadn't even locked it in the first place.
Eventually he realized his mistake, bursting out laughing like he always had when Ran gently pointed it out. And then, he opened the door ─ wide and inviting, allowing those kids to hurry inside in the same exact way Ran and Shinichi used to, when they were about their age.
Just before heading back inside, the Professor halted, however. He lifted his head and Conan felt himself freeze, overtaken by the weird sensation that he was being looked at ─ that Shinichi was being looked at, finally noticed for, maybe, the first time he could remember.
But then, Agasa looked away and disappeared inside the comfort of his own home. And thus Shinichi was left there, his hand resting where his tiny heart was, unable to put together a single thought ─ let alone figure out how he was supposed to feel.
Eventually, it came to pass. That's impossible, he told himself. The Professor had never ever learned that he was there to begin with, so it was probably his own mind playing tricks on him. But it was for the best, he reminded himself one more time. And stepping backwards, he sent one last glance at that one house; that one precious place that held so many memories, of when he was nothing but a little kid and life was much simpler.
His eyes softened, and a gentle smile blossomed on his young features.
I'm glad you're doing okay, Professor.
Finally, he drew the curtain closed. There was something else he had yet to deal with ─ a certain little thing with pink hair and an inquisitive gaze permanently stuck to his back.
Anya was still there as he turned around, eerily quiet, as if she could blend into the darkness if she tried hard enough. It looked as though she was waiting for something, even though he wasn't sure of what. Conan supposed it could wait until they got back-
Oh, right. Loid wasn't expecting them back until the next morning. Under those circumstances, chances of stumbling back into that apartment at such a late hour without being questioned about it were slim, at best.
Do I really want him to know what we've really been up to? he thought, weighing his options. I wonder if the kidnapping excuse would fly, after all…
Emerald met sapphire, staring at each other without even blinking.
Conan forced an awkward smile out. "I'll get the couch," he told her. "You get the bed tonight."
Anya nodded, and Conan did too, for good measure. He was glad that they had an agreement.
"I'm… a truly despicable person, aren't I-?"
His finger hit the 'stop' button, immediately cutting off her voice.
He let out a heavy sigh and took off his headphones to look at the cassette player lying still in front of his socked feet. It was almost as if it was waiting for him to take it up again, to discover the mysteries that it hid within.
Masami Hirota, the woman who had died in his arms, who had warned him about the worst kind of people ─ those that not only had taken her life away, but had also stolen his in the end.
He had hoped that there would be a clue in her message ─ finally, a lead that he could follow, in order to finally, finally, get his life back and forget about everything else. But instead, Conan only brought his knees up to his chest. For some reason, his hands refused to move from where they were, clenching around the blanket as he held it even closer.
In the absence of her voice, the silence prevailed ─ his ever-faithful companion he had grown to love over the years; the same comforting silence that always let him know that all was well, that he was safe, now that he was back home.
And this time, too, it reminded him of it. He was back ─ back to the only place in this entire world where he truly belonged.
Conan sighed and curled up into a small ball. Maybe it came with the territory of being much smaller than what he was used to, but for some reason this house felt big ─ a little too big, and strangely empty.
"Niichan?"
He recognized Anya's voice right away. Tiny and frail as it was, it all but made him jump off his skin. She was rooted at his doorway, with her head slightly tipped downwards, and truly, he wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disturbed about the fact that he hadn't ever noticed her presence until she talked.
How long had she been standing there? Where had she learned to be so disconcertingly quiet? For some reason, Conan didn't have the courage to ask any of these , he forced a laugh out, hurrying to tuck the cassette player between himself and the armrest, and buried it all under the covers, hoping that she hadn't really seen anything at all.
"What's wrong, Anya?" Conan asked. "Can't sleep?"
She didn't answer, she didn't move either. So, he tried a gentle approach and a smile, "There are no ghosts here," he told her. "We just made sure, didn't we?"
That got her to shake her head, at least. "Anya isn't scared of ghosts," she said.
Well, he supposed that she had made that point across pretty well, even without stating it out loud. And while he would admit that it was surprising that such a little girl wasn't even slightly frightened by the concept of terrifying supernatural creatures, he figured it was only fair.
If you asked him, living people were far scarier than the unliving ones, but may just be his experience as a homicide detective talking. He didn't think that Anya, at her extremely young age, had been exposed to that side of humanity yet. And he sure hoped she never, ever did.
"Anya misses Papa and Mama," she finally confessed, in a weak whisper. "And Mr. Chimera."
"You've only met Yor-san for a week," came out of Conan's lips, entirely on their own. And didn't even get to spend a single night under the same roof.
And then proceeded to immediately regret it when her head dropped. Apologies rushed out of his mouth in a single breath as he scooted over, patting the spot next to him moments before hopping back onto the ground.
Hesitantly, she approached. Conan was now next to the TV, zapping through the channels, grumbling under his breath every time he failed to find whatever he was trying to look for. By the time she had sat down and slipped under the covers, the boy had already hung his head down in defeat.
"I was hoping for some late-run of Bondman or something, but…" Conan half muttered, half huffed, as a random superhero came up on running towards the screen, if only to pull one of those extremely embarrassing poses that children seemed to love for some reason.
"Anya likes Kamen Yaiba," she suddenly said.
Conan glanced over at the masked hero on the TV. So that guy is Kamen Yaiba? The more he knew, he supposed. Shrugging, he stood away from it and plopped back down in the same spot he had been just until now.
It was a strange feeling, thought Conan as he settled down right beside his fake little sister. Him being there, on that same old couch his mother had loved so much, and that he had despised just as passionately ─ and the music coming from that old television, warming the once overwhelming silence. He didn't know what exactly that was, but it kind of felt familiar, somehow.
Yet at the same time, he found himself staying there ─ the urge to get up and leave before his brain melted into a thoughtless mush at the hand of bad plot points and questionable physics was, somehow, nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was just a lost cause, maybe that was where his intellect gave up and committed suicide on the spot. But it was what it was, he supposed.
Anya inched a little closer, her eyes wide and attentive to the action behind the screen. Conan couldn't help but smile a little, raising a fist to support his head's dead weight. Maybe this time, he could make it a little further into the episode without nodding off at any point of it.
Bad habits die hard, however ─ next thing he knew, he was blinking his heavy eyelids open to discover, much to his chagrin, the credits rolling on the screen.
And digging against his leg was the sharp edge of a cassette player, whose existence he had forgotten altogether. Involuntarily, his fingers curled around the object, and found that it felt warmer ─ possibly because it had been pressed against his body warmth for so long. For some reason, it reminded him of a warm mug of cocoa. Of a warm smile, bright and encouraging ─ of her praise, her conviction that he would make a great detective one day.
I have only known Yor-san for about a week, he reminded himself. And haven't yet spent a single night under the same roof as her.
And he knew ─ he knew appearances were nothing to hold on to so tightly. He knew, but…
"Do you like Mama?"
Anya's question had come out of nowhere, snapping him back to reality. Glancing towards her, he found that her unwavering gaze ─ though her little hands were still clutching the duvet they both shared, tightly enough for her knuckles to grow white.
Sighing, he turned his attention back to the television. "Can't tell yet," he admitted.
"Do you think… Mama is a bad person?"
Although Conan didn't offer a proper response, a gentle smile took hold of his lips as he placed a hand over her head. It seemed to have worked for her, he supposed, seeing that her shoulders had relaxed right afterwards.
A cheerful grin lit up her face, and though Conan didn't think he'd ever figure out the motive for its sudden appearance, he wasn't complaining either.
It wasn't nearly the first time Conan found himself wondering what was wrong with him.
To be exact, he wasn't even sure what he was doing here, of all places. Perhaps it had something to do with his unexpected trip to his old home, and the reminder that there was a life he had left behind ─ a life that he wouldn't have needed to throw away, had he taken her words more seriously.
'Her' being the woman he had once failed to save, and was now rendered to nothing but a name engraved in a cold tombstone among many others. A voice he hadn't listened to when he had a chance ─ and now that he could, it left him with a nasty taste in his mouth. Like he was intruding into something he definitely shouldn't.
"C-Conan-san?!"
Conan took a breath, then turned around, not in the slightest bit surprised to see Yor standing there ─ her vivid scarlet eyes blinking repeatedly, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing and were expecting him to evaporate at any moment.
And even though she still found this a bizarre, mind-blowing coincidence ─ because he had told Loid he would be at Ayumi's for the afternoon ─ Conan believed it was only fair.
After all, this was the place where she had first seen her. It was logical that, in some strange but predictable twist of destiny, it would happen again.
A gasp tore apart from his throat, hands clapping together as he exclaimed in a single breath, "Please, don't tell Dad I was here!"
Yor's head tilted to one side. Conan peered from over his hands, timidly, before he avoided her gaze altogether.
"I don't want to make him sad," he said, in a whisper.
Just like that, all semblance of confusion seemed to crumble apart, and Conan could swear that he could see her thoughts through her eyes. Sympathy, pity, understanding ─ nothing that the detective wouldn't have expected to see. And while he knew Ran would probably be shaking her head in disapproval if she ever knew of what he had done, Shinichi knew it was the absolute best he could do.
He shifted on his feet, genuinely uncomfortable this time. "Did… Did you come to visit someone, too?"
"Yes," she said with a soft smile. "Someone very dear to me."
"I see." He latched his hands behind his back and added, "They must be very happy that you came to visit."
"I'd like to believe that." Her smile faded over, on the edge of disappearing from existence altogether. "But I don't think that's the case." Conan blinked in response, so she clarified, "I broke a promise I made."
"A promise?"
Her gaze fell on the tombstone, silent for a beat, until she finally responded.
"To live an honest life."
Her words struck well before his mind could properly process them, but his breath had already slipped away as she walked right past him. Wide eyed, the child watched her stop in front of the resting place of a beloved friend, close her eyes, and bow slightly.
"But in the end…" she had said back then. "... we all pretend to be someone we're not."
Yor, who had once lied to her younger brother about having a boyfriend. The woman who had strived so much to become something she wasn't made to be ─ a normal human being, in an utterly mundane country they lived in.
In order to fit in a tight, close-minded society they lived in, she had needed to lie.
"I'm sorry. I had no choice."
The last piece clicked into place, the puzzle within Conan's mind was finally complete. His shoulders dropped with the strange sensation that a tremendous weight had finally lifted off him.
Yor straightened back, a tender smile on her lips. There it remained, even as he turned to face the bespectacled little child accompanying her, and slowly crouched down in front of him.
Though surprised at the gesture, Conan didn't dare to say anything. Yor leveled him with an odd, troubled stare, until she finally sighed ─ like she had finally come to terms with what she really wanted to say to him.
"Conan-san," she began. "I am aware of how hard it must be for you. For a stranger like me to suddenly barge into your life and suddenly be required to consider me part of your family."
His eyes widened slightly. For some reason, that seemed to make her shift, sort of anxious, as far as he could tell.
"But I wanted to tell you, it's fine!" she added, quickly, as if she didn't want him to ponder about it any further. "I never wanted to replace someone so important in your life."
"Yor-san…"
"What I mean to say is… Your mom will always be your mom, and I swear never to step into the memory of the wonderful woman she… she must have been! That's why… That's why, um…"
Her head jerked up, startled when two little hands suddenly placed themselves on her shoulders.
"You're replacing nobody," Conan assured her. He stepped back, his hands at his back once again, and a brilliant grin stretched all over his face. "I think we can get along just fine, Yor-san!"
She blinked once, and then, her face mirrored his. Brighter, lighter than how he had last seen her, Yor stood back up, and offered to walk home together.
Just before leaving, though, Conan glanced over his shoulder. His eyes posed on her tombstone, and without prompting them, her last message echoed in his mind.
"It seems that you found my message. That makes me a little happy, you know.
Thank you for giving me this chance, Yor-chan. For being willing to listen, one last time.
I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry for how things turned out to be. I wasn't intending to deceive you, nor did I ever want to hurt your trust, but I truly had no other choice.
Which doesn't change anything at all, does it? I can't change the past, even if I wished to, so desperately at that. But you know what the most unforgivable sin of it all is? It's that I'd do it all over again, again and again.
I'm… a truly despicable person, aren't I?"
Suddenly, he remembered that he never ended up listening to the whole tape Masami had left for Yor, but as it was now, he was considering that it was probably for the best. Maybe he would sneak into her room one last time and leave it where he had found it ─ closing this case for once and for all.
And if on their way back home Yor decided to purchase a cassette player on a whim, Conan wouldn't question it.
Certainly, Yor didn't think she would ever hear Masami's voice ever again.
But there she was now, sitting in her new bedroom with that one cassette tape she had once left behind for her. One last message that she had never gathered the courage to listen to, and nowadays, had been left to collect dust with all of her other belongings. For words could be terrible poisons, much deadlier than anything else in that box, and memories were the perfect blade to scar a bleeding heart.
Yet, it had to be done ─ she needed to know. For Masami, and for Yor herself as well.
"I have a little sister, have I ever told you that? She's been in my care ever since our parents died, and is someone I'd do anything for. And I… Well, I suppose you can understand what I'm talking about."
Her gaze flickered towards the photograph on her desk, where a young man with bright scarlet eyes smiled happily in her presence. More than ever, she wanted to tell her that yes ─ yes, she absolutely understood her; probably more than anyone else.
He was the reason she undertook that obscure path, to begin with. Maybe, at the end of the day, they weren't so different after all.
"Hey, Yor-chan… I know you probably don't like me too much right now, and I totally understand that! But… Could you please do one last favor for me?
If not for me, please do it for my sister instead. My sister, who I've left alone to fend off by herself.
There should be more tapes where you found this one. Would you please deliver them to her?
It's an important task, and you're the only person I can entrust it to, Yor-chan."
Allowing her voice to guide her, the woman stood up from her bed, and reached over for the box tucked at the corner of her room. Peering inside, she saw them ─ the several other cassette tapes she had found at her desk, alongside with the one intended for her to listen to.
Yor nodded her head. She hoped that her friend was witness to her resolve, even though she couldn't see her anymore.
"Well, I guess that's about everything. I can't talk for much longer, I gotta go. I'm meeting with a detective, can you believe that? He's still in high school, but I've heard nothing but great things from him. Guess I'll have to brush up my lying skills, or he may see right through me…"
Suddenly, she was remembered of a pair of gelid blue eyes, sharp like blades slicing through the most impenetrable darkness. Shinichi Kudo ─ a detective as young as dangerous, a force to be reckoned with, and a threat to her night job as a whole. She had been warned against him several times in the past, so to her, that was all he had been to her. A threat.
Except she had seen him. There, at the dock ─ she had remained in the shadows, even after finally finding her, motionless on the floor with a bullet wound to her stomach, the perpetrator nowhere to be found.
His eyes had been warmer than she remembered, as they did his best to comfort Masami in her last moments. His bloodied hand had never stopped squeezing hers until the moment she gave out her last breath.
Meanwhile, all she had done was to hide and watch from afar.
"I've told you before, haven't I? Not to live a lie ─ funny, right? I made you promise never to lie for the sake of appearances only, not to pretend to live a life you don't want to…
But that's impossible, right? You, me, and every single soul in this world… We're nothing but a bunch of liars. Big or small, there's always a secret that we keep from our loved ones."
Sighing, she stood back up and slowly made her way back to her bed. That was what she was, right? Someone who pretended to be someone she wasn't, someone who would lie to everyone if it meant keeping her true identity.
That wouldn't change, even though she had promised her; a broken promise that would never be amended.
"Yet, you should never lie to yourself. Live the life you truly want, be true to yourself."
She paused, her breath caught in her lungs for a moment. By the time her eyes began to widen, ever so slightly, Masami was laughing ─ in that same sweet cadence she always remembered from her.
Being true to herself… Could it be that all this time, all Masami had wanted was…?
"Should I do the same, I wonder? This time, without the lies.
I'll be honest with you, maybe for the first time in my life, so listen carefully, alright?"
Masami cleared her throat.
"I was utterly and irrevocably blessed to have been your friend, Yor."
A faint smile blossomed on her lips as she hugged herself, as tightly as humanly possible. And for the first time since it had happened, tears rolled down her cheeks.
She understood now ─ she finally understood. And a part of her wondered if she had understood her, too.
Yor had the feeling she did. Better than she ever would.
"There's a bright future waiting for you, I just know it.
From your despicable liar of a friend, Akemi."