Mission Thirteen: The Moment of Truth
If there was one, just one, single stable thing in the chaotic whirlwind Shinichi's life had unexpectedly shrunk into, it was that he was a detective. He had been, and would probably be, until the day he gave out his last breath ─ which was more likely to happen sooner than later if things kept going in this direction, but that was beside the point.
Save for a few specific instances where his curiosity had gotten the best of him, he had led his life religiously, as per the rules the logic dictated. Naturally, that meant that he wasn't prone to believe in what lacked a proper explanation for their existence, nor would he be likely to make a connection between different happenings that had no relation at all.
Meaning that, when Yor's bracelet spontaneously broke on their way to see Eden Academy's announcement of the admission results, Conan thought little of it.
"Oh, I'm sure it's just a coincidence," Loid had said, and Conan had to agree.
It couldn't be more than that, a plain old coincidence. There was no logical connection to make between that and literally anything else, probably besides her bracelet's age or materials. There was no need to fabricate one by themselves.
"L-Loid-san, look."
At Yor's stuttering, Conan lifted his head just enough to see a black cat lazily crossing their path and disappearing into a nearby alleyway. He stood there for a moment further than necessary before shaking his head. Another coincidence, he told himself, and resumed his walk.
A few steps behind him, Yor and Loid exchanged a look. He broke into a smile first, reassuring her with, "Black cats being unlucky is just a superstition."
Soon she was pulling out a tense smile of her own. "Y-You're right."
"Papa…" came Anya's small voice.
"What's wrong?"
Anya remained frozen in place, however, staring with wide, terrified eyes at the little foot firmly pressed onto the pavement. "Anya… just stepped in poop."
"Well, it's not that bad, now is it?"
That just now had been Conan who, just like Anya before him, had stopped walking altogether. Only that he, unlike her, was blinking innocently up at him from over his shoulder, his hands casually tucked inside his pockets as he waited for them to catch up.
Loid's eyes slowly trailed down to his red right shoe and paused before looking again. Was he seeing things, or were those fingers sticking out from beneath?
Conan shrugged, as though nothing extremely relevant had happened, before saying,
"I just stepped in a dead body myself."
"You did what now-?!"
He had just blinked ─ just once, Loid could swear on that ─ and now Conan was there, prying a corpse's eyes open with his little fingers. Humming lightly under his breath, the boy simply contemplated the poor man's yellowish sclera before stepping back.
Stepping back, but not away. It seemed to Loid that the boy wanted an even clearer picture of the scene, instead of looking away in fear, as any other children would normally do. A primary example of it was Anya, who had not moved an inch after the discovery. But admittedly, he had the nagging suspicion that wouldn't be the case any longer, were he to take his hand from her head, currently leading her face to bury at his side and away from the crime scene.
All of a sudden, it fell on Loid that he probably should be doing anything right now, rather than just watching his young elementary school-aged son poking at a cold, dead body.
Yor approached him first, long before he could even react, and crouched down next to the boy.
"How is it going, Conan-san?" she asked him, with a disturbingly bright smile on her face.
Loid placed his free hand on his wife's shoulder. "Please do not encourage him," he asked her.
"Huh?" she blinked back at him, genuinely confused. "Why not?"
He… wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond.
As he should have predicted, it did not take long for the murmurs of a gradually growing crowd to settle in, shuffling as they tried to take a glimpse of the scene, barking orders to each other to call the police ─ and the ambulance as well, as Conan heard a woman in the back scream to her husband. Though extremely tempting, the little detective resisted the urge to tell this clueless stranger how useless that would be.
This guy was clearly beyond saving. While he could not know for sure what the exact time of death was, Conan could estimate that it had happened sometime between late last night and early this morning. Mostly concealed by the shadows of an alleyway as he was, besides his hand that peeked into the sidewalk for Conan to stumble upon ─ stomp into ─ the following day, it was no wonder that nobody had discovered the body until then.
Well, then, he thought, leaning closer. What do we have here?
The first thing that stood out for him was probably the dried blood around the victim's mouth, which he had likely coughed up just before dying. Right into his hand, given the brownish shade that covered most of his right palm.
Small wrists. Much smaller than average, he observed. An overall skinny complexion, sans the popped belly... Maybe he had a malfunctioning liver?
He ran his finger across his skin, absently tracing the sun tan mark that suggested the consistent use of some kind of accessory, probably a bracelet, that was now somehow missing.
Wristwatch, he mentally corrected himself upon turning the hand over, and seeing that the marks confirmed his theory. Though part of the marks fall fairly above the wrist, closer to the back of his hand… Again, his wrists were small, so maybe the wristwatch was much too big for him.
I don't see any around… His pockets are empty too, so no wallet or any other way to identify the victim.
He cupped his chin, silent as he fell deep in his mind realm.
"Niichan!" Conan frowned at the body. The young, high-pitched voice persisted, "There's a bloodstain over here!"
"Of course there are bloodstains," he mumbled. The victim had clearly been spitting out some, so it was a given-
Hold on. Wasn't that-?
"Anya!" He lifted his head just in time to see Loid, pale in the face, rushing towards her. "When did you-?"
And there, further inside the alleyway, he found that certain pink-haired petite girl, crouching over a small stain of blood. It was sort of smudged over, as if something was dragged across the floor ─ possibly fingers. The victim must have dropped something, then hastily picked it back up, thus smudging the blood all over. His bloody fingers supported that theory.
It begged the question, what could it be?
The answer had barely avoided being crushed under Loid's heel, by an odd streak of luck, as he ran past it to get to Anya. Somewhere in the background, he thought he heard Loid's weary sigh, and might have spotted him pinching the bridge of his nose, but he couldn't be sure.
For his attention was brisked away by the next piece of evidence. Picking a handkerchief from his pocket, he raised the cigarette in front of his eyes and gave it a long, contemplating look.
It was drenched in blood, except for a single horizontal line where it remained clean.
"What did I just tell you? It's dangerous to run off like that, in the middle of a crime scene- You can't pick up evidence from the crime scene, Conan!"
Conan dropped the cigarette the moment he was addressed and smiled sheepishly. Loid's stern frown that awaited him upon glancing over his shoulder kindly let him know, however, how useless that would be.
He wondered, too, if it would be just as useless to try to let him know Anya had scurried off the moment the spy had taken his eyes off her-
Nevermind, suddenly there was no need for that. Upon noticing his daughter's absence, Loid immediately spun around, his head snapping from side to side until he finally found her small form, dashing straight into the shadows.
Loid halted for the briefest of moments, and in his face Conan saw the expression of a poor war veteran whose life choices he deeply regretted and was absolutely done with everything. Unfortunately, he did not have an ounce of self-criticism to determine how much of a part he played on it.
Very discreetly, the boy plucked out the newly discarded evidence from the ground.
"Anya," Loid said in a sigh, all but slumping as he slowly made his way to her. "What's gotten into you, all of a sudden?"
"Anya found another bloodstain!"
Conan perked up at that.
"Oh, another one?" he heard Yor say, surprised. "My, it must have been a terrible wound, for him to bleed so much…"
He raised back to his feet, drawn at the promise of a new clue like a moth to a lightbulb. He found it right away, somewhere at the victim's feet, a slightly larger bloodstain for his eyes to stare at.
"It kinda looks like…" Conan squinted, kneeled over to get a better look, then blinked. "Is that an eye?"
It definitely was, he realized after a long look ─ a half-lidded eye, looking slightly to the right. Is this a message? he wondered, narrowing his gaze at it. It looked deliberate enough, that was for sure, but as to what in the world was that supposed to stand for, Conan had to admit he was a little lost.
Especially when he lifted his head and found Loid.
He was just standing there, his entire body rigid and his eyes wide open with what he assumed to be shock ─ even fear, he dared to say. Needless to say, it had lasted for about a millisecond before he schooled his face back into neutrality.
But that had been enough to send his mind running, wondering what in the world had he seen that he did not. What had been oh-so-terribly shocking for this highly capable intelligence agent, to slip like that ─ to display such a face in plain sight.
Cold sweat collected in Conan's brow just at the thought of what it might be ─ though the realization that he was clueless to it was far worse.
There's something I now know, though, thought the boy, focusing back on the strange bloody mark. This is no ordinary eye.
No doubt, it was a symbol for something else altogether, and seeing that it was an eye, his mind immediately went to espionage ─ though his thought process might be influenced by his current situation and all. An eye, looking to the right ─ or east. An organization that's keeping a close watch on the East. It sounded a whole lot to an organization of Westalian spies keeping an eye on Ostania.
Doesn't that sound familiar?
That being said, he failed to understand how this came to happen. He may know little about overly secret intelligence organizations like this one but, while he could imagine that they were no stranger to eliminating any obstacles in whatever way available, it didn't take away the fact that they were, well, that ─ overly secret intelligence organizations. Surely, they would know much better than to go broadcasting themselves like this.
But perhaps the victim was also an agent? he wondered. Maybe someone else was trying to leave a message for the government to see.
Or maybe…
Blinking, Anya observed his older brother, and the cocky smirk that, little by little, began to grow on his face. She watched him for a moment or two, before her eyes flickered over to her dad, and thought she had spotted a strong contrast.
Where Conan's mind overflowed with the many several lines of thought that overlapped, connected and diverged with one another, her father's was strangely silent. His eyes had widened somewhat, but that was about it. He had even forgotten to blink, let alone breathe, as he contemplated the strange symbol in front of him.
This is… the logo for WISE.
It did not last enough for anyone else to appreciate it, and before long, he had managed to unclench his fists and veer his terrified expression towards a reasonably shocked one ─ one that resembled less of a deer caught in headlights and more like the unlucky fellow named Loid Forger, who had just stumbled on a dead body completely by chance.
And absolutely not because his adopted son was starting to develop some strange sort of crime-magnetism properties that made it difficult for him to believe in coincidences any longer. If anything, if there was a reason he could've drawn enough attention from the Ostanian government, it could certainly be the sudden increase in crime activity around him. It would have made anyone curious enough to investigate further, and find out that-
Do not jump to conclusions, Twilight, he told himself, halting his train of thought before it could derail. There's nothing yet to say you've been compromised.
He completely missed Conan rising to his feet.
First, I need to figure out how this murder occurred, and then I'll be able to whip out a list of suspects. After a thorough background check of every one of them, their close friends' and family's, I'll go through their daily routine. Afterwards, I'll have to determine if anyone did not follow that routine and then-
He was violently dragged out of his internal musings by a tug on his shirt. Looking down, Loid found both a stretched hand and a half-lidded, blue stare.
"Lend me your wristwatch."
Loid wasn't sure of how to reply to such a random demand. So he didn't.
"A coin too, if you have one," Conan pressed on. "A ten-pent coin would be great."
The spy took his time to contemplate the boy, and possibly his own existence as well.
Yor, on the other hand, didn't find anything extremely strange about that certain exchange, which was unsettling at best. She just glanced away when it was over, not a single change on her features, and turned back to the corpse she was kneeling down next to.
"I wonder who killed this poor man," she said, her hands pressed to her chest as her gaze flickered all over the body. "I do not seem to find a stabbing wound of any kind anywhere…"
"That doesn't necessarily have to be the case, miss."
A wristwatch suddenly materialized on top of Conan's palm, even though Loid had yet to move an inch from where he stood, frozen. His fingers hesitated as they curled around the object, but his head snapped upwards without even thinking about it twice.
Towering over him, he found the face of its owner.
One that Conan couldn't seem to recall ever encountering before, he was a stranger beyond a shadow of doubt. Yet, as he met this old, unknown man's eyes, Conan could not stop himself from staring ─ unable to shake off this strange sense of familiarity as a beard-covered smirk tilted his lips upward.
Before he could even process a single thought, the old man had turned back around. He stopped next to Yor and simply watched him, the poor, unrecognized victim lying cold across the pavement.
"It was cirrhosis."
Loid took a step closer, Conan took another away ─ several, at that. Quietly passing by Anya, the boy stopped a few steps behind her, and settled the unfamiliar old man with one last look.
"He's got jaundice on the white of his eye, and while he's skinny, he has a popped belly from an abdominal build of fluids. That's why I suspect that he had a malfunctioning liver."
He turned away from him without giving it any further thought and crouched down.
"He likely suffered from cirrhosis of the liver, had a burst varix and spit out twice," the man said, and secretly, Conan couldn't help but take note of the confidence that exuded from every one of his words, reminiscent of someone who had a good few years of experience in this kind of thing ─ the deducting process, the undivided attention from a crowd, the many clueless gazes that Shinichi used to receive, at least, twice a day. "Unfortunately, no one was around that time, so he passed away."
This man is a detective, Conan thought, all too focused on his own work to notice Anya's head turning to look at him. He barely even took a glance at the scene, and has managed to deduce everything so far.
What impressive deductive abilities, he mentally praised him. Maybe, if he were still sixteen, he'd have walked up to him, exchanged theories and discussed their clues like equals in their field of expertise. But since that wasn't going to happen any soon, he had to content himself to just sit in the shadows, and try to get his chubby, tiny fingers to move the way he wanted.
Anya watched him for a moment or so, before turning back to the scene. And consequently flinching because, by the corner of his eye, the detective in question seemed to be looking their way, with a smirk painted on his lips.
Within his mind, his voice was just as calm and composed as it was on the outside.
A gasp made Conan look up suddenly. For some reason that escaped him completely ─ so surprising ─ Anya was standing there with her hands covering her mouth as though she had to physically restrain herself from screaming.
Her eyes were big, yet devoid of the fear that he'd have expected from that reaction. Conan wondered what he should make out from that.
"Anya?" Loid's reaction was similar, and his confusion massive enough for him to overlook the boy's small, crouched figure a little farther away. Fortunately. "What's wrong?"
Other than twitching, the girl failed to react.
The old man burst out laughing suddenly, but rather than helping out with Loid's puzzlement, it was only intensifying the feeling. Conan felt like, this time around, he could probably empathize with him if he gave it a moment's worth of thought.
"I'm surprised you could recognize this boring old man, young lady," he said, smiling widely. "It makes me a little happy, if I'm honest."
Conan could swear that even Anya was blinking in confusion.
"You know him?" Loid asked, surprised.
"Why, I believe we've all met already." His grin widened as he watched Loid, and could probably hear the wheels on the spy's head turning from how close he stood to him. "You have incredible arm strength to be able to throw from so far off."
Loid pondered about it for half a second before he realized it. "You were on that train?"
"Certainly one of my many memorable experiences."
It took a while longer for Conan to connect the dots. What train? he wondered, his forehead plucked out in thought. If Anya and Loid-san both encountered him, then I must've been there, too. The only time we ever took a train was when we moved out to Berlint-
Cold murderous eyes popped up first, as a reminder of the duo he had run into that day. It's where I learned about Gin and Vodka's codenames, he realized. And unknowingly almost murdered me for the second time, via a bomb hidden in a suitcase.
So he's that old man? Now that he had mentioned it, the faux child kind of remembered him. He had secretly checked his belongings for a bomb, but it wasn't his. I thought he hadn't seen me, though to be fair, the sight of Loid jumping into the scene and flinging a suitcase out the window, only for it to explode as it hit a nearby river, must have been a memorable scene to witness. By no means it was what he would call 'discreet'.
I didn't notice he was there, Conan thought, and glanced over to Anya who just stood there, still as a statue. It's impressive that she still remembers that.
"So this man was not murdered," Yor commented, gazing down at the man in contemplation. "I suppose that makes sense… But then, what does that mark mean?"
"It was left by the victim," the man told her, "but it wasn't a deliberate action."
Loid felt himself staring. "It… wasn't?" he mumbled.
He nodded his head. "First, the victim coughed up blood, and his wallet fell off." Turning his attention to the first blood stain, slightly smudged over by what Conan had assumed to be a hand. "His coins were scattered all over, and some were soaked by his blood. As soon as he picked them up," he said, turning to the eye-like symbol he had left behind, "he coughed up one last time before passing away."
Yor stared at the blood mark for a while but found that, no matter how much she squinted her eyes, she could see nothing ─ nothing but a deliberate action of a murderer who thought of leaving a message. Not that I can understand why anyone would do that, she thought. Personally, I would never consider leaving anything behind that could connect me to their murder. The Shopkeeper would get so mad at me I could lose my job!
As if sensing the general direction of her thoughts ─ though not the complete extension of them ─ the man crouched down next to the victim. Gingerly, he moved his hand until the suntan mark of a wristwatch was visible to everyone present.
"As you can see, his wrists are much too small. It's entirely possible that it slipped at some point," he pointed out. "That's how we got a circle. Then, if a bloodied coin fell in the middle, and the cigarette was accidentally positioned so that it split the circle in half-"
How does that even happen?! Loid all but screamed in his mind.
"-when he spit up blood for a second time, then it would cover just one half."
He raised his head as he was finished, meeting Loid in the eye, keeping that gaze for a second too long. Just before Loid could politely inquire if something was wrong, he smiled, and rose back up.
"Long after his death, and after the blood had dried, a passerby must've encountered the scene and stole every valuable possession they could get their hands on. And thus, the symbol was formed." He threw his head back, his smirk growing both in size and radiance. "Isn't that right, little boy?"
Hadn't they been outdoors, Conan would probably have jumped up to the ceiling like a scared kitten. In two long steps, Loid was reaching his hunched figure, peering to see what in the world he was doing ─ or rather, what he'd been so obstinate in hiding from him.
There, he found the wristwatch he had been lent a few seconds prior ─ clipped on, sitting on the ground in front of the boy with the cigarette he could swear he had told Conan to let go of, inscribed into the makeshift circle exactly the way the old man had described it.
Loid's eyes widened and sucked in a sharp breath. Conan finally glanced up, awaiting the inevitable in utter silence.
"Did you pluck off your button?!"
Conan's fingers absently fiddled with the loose thread on his brand new jacket.
The spy, in turn, deflated in the umpteenth weary sigh this morning, and all of a sudden, a tiny speckle of compassion awakened within Conan when he saw just how incredibly miserable this poor man looked.
"Your clothes aren't free, you know," he murmured, his head hanging low. Handler is definitely murdering me next time we meet.
Whatever that was, Conan dusted it off with a flick of his hand. "Could've been cheaper," he kindly informed him. "Like, ten pents."
But he hadn't listened. A detective had to do what he had to do ─ it was not his fault if he'd phased out to another dimension, for whatever reason that was not his business, and failed to acknowledge his request. Wasn't he supposed to play the part as his father? And as a father, he should've known better than to ignore his needs.
You need to get back on your game, Twilight-san.
"You had already had all that figured out, didn't you?" Conan's gaze shifted from his father to that old man, not entirely sure of when he had approached him ─ or how long he had been there, standing behind there, for. "Good job. I can imagine that your dad must be really proud of you."
Conan wasn't sure of what had stopped him from responding, be it vocally or in literally any other form. All he was certain of was that there was a gentle smile on this unfamiliar face, that he had stretched his hand to him, and that, for some reason, a bead of cold sweat started to drip from his forehead.
His fingers barely brushed the tip of his hair when Conan felt his feet leaving the ground, leaving the man grasping the air.
"That's it," Loid said suddenly, too abruptly for Conan to even register that he had picked him up, from the scruff of his clothes like a damn kitten. "We're leaving."
It might have taken a while, plus another few extra seconds to blink accordingly, "What?!" but Conan's reaction had been nothing short of loud. "But the case-!"
"We still have to go back and clean Anya up," Loid remained, almost patiently ─ almost, because he was already speed-walking away from the scene as though he couldn't bear spending a second of his life longer to wait for an answer he certainly wouldn't care for. "We'll be late."
Later, he'd probably analyze this certain event when he was calmer, and realize that all that whining was probably too age-appropriate for him to be comfortable with. For now, though, he would just extend his arm over Loid's shoulder, fingers stretched as if they could touch that corpse if they tried hard enough.
Anya just stared blankly as he followed them, Yor giggled under the hand that was not holding her daughter's. None of them tried to help.
Resigned, the shrunken sleuth tore his gaze away with a huff. Completely missing, in doing so, the old man that watched the family go, his gaze fixated on a certain young boy as he was finally placed back on ground, if only to grumble ─ to himself or to the blonde man, his witness had no way of knowing.
With each step, the more he drifted away from him. Regardless, a smirk blossomed on his long-lived, wrinkly features.
When Loid turned about to check, one last time, he found that he was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing eyes dissected the crowd in a matter of seconds, yet somehow, he found nothing at all ─ as though he had vanished from existence altogether.
His frown deepened, for he understood that he knew nothing at all. For there was something about this unfamiliar old man that rubbed him the wrong way, even if he could not quite place what it was. All he knew was that the urge to get Conan away from there was strong, vastly more powerful that anything else right now.
That one woman named Fumiyo Edogawa suddenly came to mind, but since Conan's gaze on him was too sharp to entertain that thought any further, Loid pushed it away for the time being.
Perhaps this was just the stress getting the worst of him.
To be honest, Conan had sort of seen this coming.
And being fair, the fact that they had even been allowed to set foot on school grounds was fairly more surprising, if you asked Conan. Especially after their exceptional failure to pretend to be normal just for a few good hours ─ that certain inspector's nose had probably never been in such great danger of being caved into his face, and while Conan would have appreciated the view, he highly doubted that Loid would appreciate getting the word 'assault' typed in his sparkly clean, forged police record.
That being said, he had kind of expected to find a personalized blacklist stuck on the board, one that they would probably title 'I'd Rather Eat Dirt Inelegantly', with 'You Owe Us a New Table' as a working alternative.
But ultimately, there was nothing of such. Neither of their application numbers were on the list, real or hypothetical.
Again, it should have been obvious. However…
"Conan."
Conan turned at the sound of his name, not quite knowing when he had trailed down behind. Anya's eyes were full with thick tears, flowing down her cheeks with the strength of a river, while Yor held her hand tightly. As if she was attempting to comfort her, even though her smile was a little too tight on her lips to be effectively reassuring in his eyes.
Loid, however, stood a few steps away from them, closer to him. It was like he was patiently waiting for him, the last missing piece in the picture of the perfect little family Twilight had worked so hard to fabricate.
He failed to take a single step forward, instead shooting one last look at the board from over his shoulder. Yet all he could see, all of a sudden, was a family portrait held in between his small hands.
A crack resounded in the void of his thoughts. Conan shook his head, and hurried up to catch up. Probably for the last time.
"A moment, Forgers."
Conan froze mid-step, surprised to see who was calling for them. A little farther away from them, shielded by a tree from the harsh sunlight of a, dare he say, elegant morning, stood none other than Henderson ─ his figure perfectly straight and graceful as usual, but somehow silent. As if he was making an actual effort not to stand up in a crowd.
If that wasn't suspicious enough, Conan reckoned that motioning to them so that they could follow him, and then leading them to an empty alley within the school, away from the prying eyes and ears, definitely had to get the cake.
Leading a clueless family away from the crowd and to a secluded place… I think I've seen a couple of criminals pull up this trick.
He shrugged the thought off and resumed his pace without thinking about it twice. Completely unaware of the little girl he passed by, pale in the face and in a mess of trembling limbs as she gawked at the back of his head.
Most of them were petty robbers, though. It usually doesn't go much further than that.
Anya felt herself breathe out in relief.
Usually. Last one I saw, the father resisted and they all ended up dead.
And froze solid once more. Blinking, Conan finally glanced over at her, tilting his head to wordlessly express his puzzlement. Anya forced herself to snap out of it quickly enough, averting his questioning gaze and trudging close to her parents, in a way that actually reminded the detective of a baby duck.
As usual, Conan never got an answer for the many questions dancing in his mind. Instead, he was forced to watch as the girl settled behind her mother's legs and narrowed her eyes at Henderson while clutching at the hem of her coat, and to suffer in ignorance because there was no way he could explain this.
Henderson seemed to either not notice her strange behavior, or to disregard it completely. His features barely even changed as he pulled something from under his overcoat and passed it to Loid.
Now, Conan wished he could pretend he experienced the same numbing shock that was crossing Loid's eyes, but he was no psychic, and standing on the tip of his feet only improved his situation by a few centimeters. Would it kill him to share? he thought in a huff.
"That is the waiting list of successful applicants," Henderson explained it first. "Though it is rather confidential."
Confidential, repeated the boy, checking his surroundings for any semblance of a soul around, that he didn't find. You don't say.
"Once their overall scores were tailed, Anya Forger placed first on that waiting list," Henderson said, surprising Anya enough to loosen her fists. "Moreover, Conan Forger placed second. If any of the current students were to withdraw, they'll immediately get into the school."
Conan twitched at the mention of his name. "I got second place?" he mumbled before he could stop himself. Nobody answered, so it was likely that it had been too soft for anyone to pick on that.
Even Loid himself couldn't seem to get over his surprise, staring at the paper in his hands as though it would turn out to be a mirage and vanish within seconds. "B-But…" he stuttered, "after what we did…"
"Do you know what the number one killer of our species on this planet is?"
Humans, Conan's mind replied automatically. Or else, Shinichi wouldn't have been able to make himself a career out of it fresh out of middle school. Murder after murder ─ one trick after another, it had only cemented the idea in his mind that humanity was its worst enemy, and the sole responsible for their own extinction in a not-too-distant tomorrow.
Or probably me, if I keep on running into corpses every other day of the week.
"It's the mosquito," Henderson said. " Yes. You saved Mr. Swan from that brutal killer back there. That brought your score up tremendously."
That… No. Definitely not ─ that wasn't even close. But if it served as a means to let Loid get away with his less than graceful actions, then he supposed he could probably let it slide for now. If only because getting reported by the police would probably complicate things for him in the long run.
Especially since it seemed like Conan Forger was staying for a little while longer.
He couldn't help but sigh at the thought, standing back to glance at all three of them all the same ─ at Loid's fruitless attempt to hide his utter bewilderment, at the troubled frown crawling in Yor's face as she considered their chances, and at Anya's big, emerald eyes that glimmered with a newfound sense of hope.
Getting rid of you guys won't be so easy, now will it?
"Stand proud, Forger. Your family is worthy of our school."
For some reason he didn't even question, Conan's lips were curving into a soft, almost imperceptible little smile.
Of course, Loid was quick to thank him, effusively so. But instead of replying accordingly, the old professor turned his back on them.
"I must warn you that I may not be teaching here by the time you arrive," Henderson confessed, his chin tilted skyward. "I was forced to give that swine a good thrashing."
Conan failed to keep his lips from twitching in a chuckle. Well, not that he had tried that hard, to be fair.
This, of course, earned him a glance from the teacher. He replied with a sheepish smile of his own.
"That was truly elegant on your part, Mr. Henderson," Conan said.
Honestly, that was a scene he'd have killed to witness. If only he had done it while they were present, but no, he had to wait until they had vacated the premises to give him what he deserved.
Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.
"You humble me, my boy," Henderson told him. "But violence is not the correct path to take, I am afraid."
It definitely was not, Conan would concede him that. But, at times, it was the only one available, if only to prevent a greater tragedy occurring. Like, would it be worth risking the well-being of a possible future victim if he let a killer escape after being singled out as such? Shinichi didn't think so ─ Shinichi ended up sticking a few thousand yen world globe to his face.
Granted, Mr. Swine was likely not that big of a threat for society as a whole, but his social standing would have made it impossible to make him face the consequences of his actions. That was why having him face a fist straight to the nose was such a comforting thought.
"Physical violence is not the only form of violence," Henderson added, giving him a pointed look he truly wanted to ignore. "Our words are weapons to be wielded with special care, regardless of the person in front of us."
It was hard not to notice, however, his mustache twitching as though they wanted to hide a smile.
"That said, I must admit that I found your instinct to protect your sister's tears to be dazzlingly elegant. Despite how it was reflected in your overall score."
"No, that wasn't-"
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Anya's head snapping his way. There was a bright smile on her face that, instinctively, made his gaze flicker away from it. He clicked his mouth shut, and thought he heard Yor's giggling echoing from somewhere in the background.
"Please await that call at home."
Come the third day, Anya had started dancing.
Dancing, or more specifically, jumping around the house with that ugly Chimera stuffed animal she seemed to adore for no good reason. Back and forth, twirling and squeezing her eyes shut in a prayer to the gods that had clearly forsaken Conan a long while ago ─ Conan had long since given up trying to figure out if there was a sequence to each step, but frankly, he felt that it didn't really matter to her, so why should he worry about it, anyway?
Occasionally, though, she would open just one eye and sneak a glance to the phone. But every single time, it would refuse to make a single sound, unwilling to respond to her pleas.
It was halfway through that afternoon that Loid had finally sat down on the couch to watch her daughter bounce about. For almost a whole minute, before his eyebrows inevitably raised.
"What in the world is she doing?" he wondered out loud.
It was so easy to assume that the question had been aimed at nobody in particular, but regardless, Yor's lips curved into an amused smile as she explained, "Apparently, she's performing a prayer dance to help her get accepted."
Conan lifted his face from the basic algebra book Loid had put in front of him about an hour and five minutes ago, and settled the little girl in question with a blank stare.
"Anya will be accepted…" he heard her muttering to herself. "Anya will be accepted…"
"Wow," Conan said, his tone bland. "I wonder what gave it away."
And forced himself not to cringe at the screech, loud enough to burst his eardrums if she put her mind on it, that tore from her throat ─ an odd sound, unidentifiable at best that, for some reason Conan did not want to dwell on, seemed to trigger the reaction they'd been waiting for three days now.
Suddenly, the ringing of a phone pierced through the silence that, thanks to Anya, had barely even existed to begin with. Not that he was even allowed a moment to process it, because in his next blink, Yor was already rushing towards her daughter to stabilize her.
Why had she lost her equilibrium to begin with? Conan had the sensation it had to do with the spy, who had practically manifested next to the phone.
"Hello, Forger residence," Loid said, as soon as he had picked it up. He waited for a beat, listening closely to whatever was talked back through the receiver, before his eyes narrowed. "Yes. Yes. Goodbye."
Just as abruptly as it had begun, the call ended. Loid retired the phone from his ear and, with a soft click, placed it back on the receiver; his head lowered ever so slightly, his shoulders dropped as though the man was deflating in front of the expectant eyes that had befallen him.
Conan wasn't sure when his breath had hitched to a stop, nor did he know why he had stood up from his seat, getting closer to his unmoving figure with each hesitant step. But what he was certain about was the popping noise that, so abruptly, made itself known and all but sent him straight to cardiac arrest.
And now, Loid was smiling brightly behind a wall of colorful confetti.
"You both got in!"
It would've been nice if he had been able to conjure any opinion of the matter, but as the spy leaned closer to him and placed a warm hand on top of his head, he found as though his brain had decided to go in a sudden vacation leave; a mind that was strangely vacant, and a small body that could do nothing but to blink its eyes at the grin that was aimed for him, and just for him.
A little farther off in the background, he noticed little Anya jumping up and down in joy, and Conan observed that her face had been dazzlingly bright. Yet, that had paled in comparison with the brilliantly elated grin that blossomed on her lips as Loid approached her next and lifted her up in the air.
As childish giggling bubbled up from her throat and warmed the air around them, he turned his yet bewildered gaze to where Yor was. Smiling down at him with her hands pressed to her chest, words of praise and congratulation leaving her mouth in an instant.
At last, something seemed to click into place. His eyebrow rose and, eyeing the several thousand bits of color composing their brand new carpet ─ it would be a pain to clean all of this, that was for sure ─ Conan crossed his arms over his chest.
Was this guy seriously keeping a party popper in his pocket? he thought. He's so extra sometimes.
He could not deny, however, finding a little smile creeping up on his features.
It died quickly enough, replaced by surprise in a bat of an eye. All because of the doorbell that had chosen that exact moment to ring, forcing Loid to place his daughter back onto the ground so that he could see who it was.
Now, as far as Conan knew, they weren't expecting any visitors today ─ when did they? ─ so his best guess was that particularly exhausted mailman he had crossed a few times in his life doing his job. Or maybe it's someone wanting to kidnap me, like that other time, Conan thought. You can't never be too sure.
Shrugging, he turned his head towards Yor, and watched as she, in turn, gazed down at the little girl clutching the hem of her shirt for no rhyme or reason. Conan raised his eyebrow at the scene, unable to get rid of the impression that she seemed to forget how to breathe.
"Heya!" came from behind the door as soon as Loid cracked it open. "I heard they got in. Time to celebrate!"
Conan kind of had the feeling that shrunken-teenager abductors did not quite sound like that, but he supposed he could be wrong. What he was certain of was that, first, Loid knew this individual, and two, he wasn't exactly excited to see him at his doorstep.
Loid's eyelids dropped slightly, but stepped aside regardless. Their unexpected visitor invited himself in, a bottle of what Conan assumed to be wine in one hand, waving the other as he introduced himself to Yor as Loid's friend.
Yor smiled out of politeness, bowing lightly.
Anya pointed at him, her eyes wide. "Scruffy-scruff!" she exclaimed, and the man paused as though he wasn't sure how to reply to that.
Conan had to blink twice before his face could light up.
"Oh," he muttered, in quiet realization. "It's Frank-san."
And did not blink again, even as the man's once frozen smile melted into nothingness.
"It's Franky."
As his eyes narrowed into a powerful glare, aimed at the bespectacled boy, Conan could not help but feel as though he had missed something important ─ more specifically, he seemed to have missed the part where he should care even one bit at all.
Mistaking his silence as understanding, and his dull stare as repentance, Franky nodded his head, and forgo pressing matters altogether. His grin returned to his face with ease and, as far as Loid's very subtle grimace could tell, the spy wasn't looking forward to what was about to happen next.
And that was, apparently, a party. A celebration for the two children that had worked so arduously to get themselves accepted in the elite of the elite when it came to institutional education. Which, by itself, wasn't a wrong thing at all, not in the slightest bit.
But as they all sat around a table with the food Franky had ordered, at some point Conan wasn't sure he wanted to know, and cups filled with wine were downed as though it was plain water, the shrunken detective could not help but wonder if he shouldn't have worked harder.
Harder, in order not to get in.
He depleted his glass in a single gulp, but sadly, he could not quite get in that tipsy, mind-numbing daze that had Yor giggling at everything and nothing at the same time by drinking orange juice. Oh, what he would give to have a bit of iced coffee, at the very least.
Franky wasn't any better than the woman in front of him, his face suspiciously flushed as he inched closer to his friend and elbowed him. "This is all thanks to me stealing the answer sheet."
"You idiot!" Loid hissed. "They'll hear you!"
And glanced back ahead, hardly finding the kind of reaction he had expected. While he had expected shock, and maybe some degree of horror painting Yor's face, all he found was a dozy smile that widened with every sway of her uncoordinated body.
All the while, Anya all but buried her face onto her plate, as though she was planning on inhaling it, rather than eating it like a normal child. Conan, on the other hand, just kept his gaze on him, unmoving yet extremely dull, as though too many thoughts were struggling to surface in his mind. He had the suspicion that none of them were what he would call flattering.
Eventually, the boy grew bored, and went back to picking on his food. He plucked out the third raisin for the day ─ raisins in a salad? What kind of atrocity is this, anyway? ─ and tried to keep his face blank, devoid of anything that would betray what had been festering in his thoughts for a while.
I should be starting eleventh grade in a few days. Yet here I am, celebrating that I got admitted in as a first grader.
The fourth raisin accidentally rolled off his plate, yet its tragic demise was sadly disregarded.
I wonder what Ran will think when I fail to show up for school.
She will definitely get mad at me. His lips quirked into a smirk, amused at the random memory that came into his mind. Like that one time when I skipped an entire week of school for a case. And inadvertently almost forced her to check every ditch in the neighborhood in hopes of finding his cold, likely decaying, body that had seemed to disappear off the face of the earth.
Back then, she'd made him promise to, at least, tell her in advance ─ had made her point across perfectly well, too, and the lamppost in front of his house had never been the same ever since.
Conan leaned over a fist, and stilled.
"Isn't it great, Anya-chan, Conan-kun?" Franky suddenly said. Conan just raised an eyebrow at him. "Daddy said he'll buy you anything as a reward for today."
"Hey!" Loid's slightly panicked outburst was clear enough proof that no, he definitely hadn't. "Don't go promising them things like that!"
Conan could not help but roll his eyes. "Whatever you do, please do not include Francis-san in this," he said, eyeing his salad. "Especially where his culinary tastes are involved."
"Did you hear that, Loid-san?" Franky said with a smile, though his eyebrow was twitching. "He said he actually doesn't want anything."
"Well." Conan shrugged. "I really don't."
And then pretended that he couldn't notice the silent look that Loid sent his way at that. For he knew that no words would help the spy understand it any better than he did now, not unless he wanted to expose more than he would be comfortable with.
The things I want are well beyond my reach, could never leave his lips, under any circumstances. I don't need anything, either.
Nothing, but my old life back.
Franky, who had been staring for a while, slowly turned back to Loid.
"You had to get the weird one, didn't you?" he asked, not even bothering to lower his volume.
"So what do you want, Anya?" Conan promptly ignored him, and went to the girl that had gone unusually quiet. "Remember that Dad said anything."
Loid looked troubled, as though he was uncertain whether speaking would be worth anything in the end. He seemed to settle for silence, instead watching as his daughter considered her brother's words for a moment, until she made a decision.
"Anya doesn't want you to buy her anything, but she does want something!"
"Hm? What's that? I don't mind as long as it's doable."
Looking back, this should have been Loid's cue to run ─ run and never turn back, no matter what. For it was obvious, maybe in retrospective, that nothing good could ever leave those lips of hers. But a beautiful smile had blossomed on that young girl's face, brightening the entire room and firming his sentence, all at the same time.
Well, it didn't exactly play out the way Conan expected it to.
And by 'exactly', he actually meant that, not even in his wildest dreams, would have predicted the course of events that led him to be there. There, in the freaking castle that Anya had somehow convinced Loid to rent out.
Whether Anya had always had it in her, or if Ayumi had passed down the fine art of manipulation down to her, Conan would never know for sure. Judging by the results alone, though, it was nothing short of impressive.
And that doesn't even begin to cover it.
Taking a sharp breath, the boy heaved himself up the balcony railing, and easily swung his feet over so that he could sit on it and take into the breathtaking view that expanded all over what his eye could see; the silvery glow of the moon above him was cast over the tranquil surface of a lake, only broken by quite a few boats that rapidly and silently darted away from the premises.
Although he had tried to count, he only got to a few thousands before he gave up ─ and he wasn't even considering the helicopters he had spotted a couple seconds ago. Shinichi could not remember ever seeing so many agents gathered in one single spot.
Now, he had long since concluded that Twilight was pretty skilled, and given the complex nature of the infiltration mission he had been given, Conan had the suspicion that he was highly ranked too, but couldn't exactly confirm it. Seeing all these agents gathering seconds after Loid called them, offering little-to-no explanation of what their mission consisted of, sort of added up to his theories.
He wondered how many of them had figured out they were there for a little girl's playdate.
They were good opponents, he would give them that. But there was something about Twilight that made him special, unstoppable, even. No matter how many of them had ganged up against him, he had still made his way to his daughter with relative ease. Secret intelligence agencies are something else…
A single, bloody eye suddenly fluttered open within his mind realm, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. That had surely taken a couple of years out of Loid's lifespan, which wasn't a lot, but considering the pink ball of energy that kept on bouncing about him stripping what little of his sanity he had left, Conan wondered if he should be getting worried at all.
In the end, it had been nothing but a string of bizarre coincidences, fortunately. He wouldn't want to be properly investigated for being adopted by a Westalis spy and have to explain to the police why he had been found bleeding in the head and wearing oversized clothes in the outskirts of an amusement park. If he lived long to tell the story, that was.
Come to think of it, wasn't that case similar? Conan tilted his head back as he reminisced. A famous politician had been murdered, the bloody imprint of a cross next to his head.
It was on Dad's desk, wasn't it? I wanted to read it but-
The burning feel against his fingers was just as prominent as it had been then ─ he could remember it vividly enough to see the hand that had torn the stolen document from his grasp. It was as though he was there, standing in front of him, judging him silently.
His eyes had narrowed, Shinichi recalled, and his lips had pursed together in a sign that he would not yield. It had been quite a few years ago, but to this day, the high school detective still could not tell what he had been thinking back then.
It happened the week before they left home. The week before his mother came up to him with a cheerful grin and announced, completely out of the blue, that they'd had decided this mundane life wasn't for them. That they would spend the next years of their lives in a perpetual honeymoon traveling all around the world, to what Shinichi had only rolled his eyes at and wished them well. At least now, without them around, he'd be finally able to have some well-earned peace within his own home.
As they had promised, they would come back home from time to time ─ one day, he'd be getting back home later after a case, only to wake up with the scent of coffee and his mother humming behind the kitchen counter. But come into the next morning, the house would be deserted again ─ leaving nothing, but a scribbled note filled with hearts and apologies for leaving again.
Shinichi usually wound up discarding them without reading a word. They never had anything new to say.
I didn't find a note from them, last time I was home, Conan realized. Will they even realize I'm missing? Knowing them, they'd probably assume he was away for a school trip or something, and leave right afterwards without realizing he didn't get home the following morning either.
They'd leave a note behind, that was for sure. Whether it differed from the several thousands they'd written for him, would forever be a mystery for him.
"You're going to break your neck one of these days."
It had come out of nowhere, he hadn't even heard him approaching, yet there he was, announcing his appearance through a firm hold in his waist. His first instinct had been, of course, to glower at him ─ inwardly chastising himself for dwelling so deeply in his thoughts that he lost his grip in reality.
Loid smirked in return. "Something on your mind, young prince?"
Conan cringed accordingly, and peered over his shoulder seeking a certain pink head, which he did not find at first, until he finally lifted his gaze. She was inside the castle he had wandered out of, climbing into the couch where Yor had passed out on.
She slipped into her warm embrace and Yor, in between dreams, unconsciously snuggled closer to her. It was hard not to smile at the sight.
"Anya is not here," Conan pointed out, turning back to the spy. "Can we please take a break?"
"You did a great job back there."
Sure he did. Standing next to a little girl doing absolutely nothing but watching Twilight fighting against his own allies definitely was the most difficult task he had been put with. Homicide investigation was nothing but a child's play in comparison.
"Makes it hard to see the point of being assigned a character at all," Conan said, shrugging. "Or being there to begin with."
"Why does it bother you that much?"
"It doesn't bother me," Conan said, tilting his head slightly. "I don't know, it's just…"
"Embarrassing?" he suggested ─ projecting his own feelings, Conan would say.
"Incoherent," the boy said instead. "I mean, how come she was kidnapped and is held hostage in her own castle?"
Unsurprisingly, Loid provided no answer at all ─ not that he seemed to care enough about it. Conan supposed that was fair, for even he could understand that Anya was too young to fabricate the perfect story without a single plot hole in sight. Franky had been next to her every step of the way, though, so Conan considered he could have helped her in that regard.
"Then there's my character, Prince Holmes, who asked Loidman's help after his sister was kidnapped," Conan continued, leaning slightly backwards as he talked. "How come he was with the princess? Assuming he had been kidnapped alongside her, how did he even ask for help?"
Loid watched him from a moment, silent at first, before he snickered. Conan raised his eyebrow in return.
"There's actually a backstory for that," he told the boy. "Anya told me about it."
It took him a while to answer. "Did she now?"
"You know why she called you 'Holmes', right?"
Both because of my clear obsession with him and because children can be strangely unimaginative when it comes to it?
He shook his head, however, patiently waiting for whatever clever response he had thought of.
"The prince is supposed to be a detective who correctly deduced the evil guy's plans, but failed to prevent her abduction. Asking Loidman's was his last move before allowing himself to be kidnapped as well," Loid explained, a smile playing on his lips. "He did all of that, because he knew Princess Anya needed him at her side. To protect her until the real help got to her."
Conan wasn't sure how to answer, and merely did anything but stare back as the spy's gaze met his. For some reason he would probably never know about, his eyes twinkled in sheer, genuine amusement.
"I still haven't figured out what's up with the castle, though."
Eventually, though, the boy averted his gaze. He let it rest somewhere in the distance as he navigated through the sea of his own thoughts, never once letting it stray towards the face that moved close with its owner leaning further into the railing.
"Anya loves you very much," Loid told him, his voice strangely warm in his ears. It almost made him want to believe him. "She trusts her big brother to protect her when her parents aren't around."
Conan felt himself frown. "To protect her, huh," left his lips, faint as the whisper of the nightly breeze.
"Please keep an eye on her for us at school."
His gaze drifted downwards, to his hands laying limply on his lap ─ they were tiny, useless to even harm the late mosquito that had, quote unquote, 'endangered' Mr. Swan's life three days ago. Even now they could barely draw a fist, left shaking by the effort even though he knew they accomplished little at all.
Without meaning to, his mind went back to the day they both were abducted. He thought that young pallid face that contorted in horror as the gun muzzle was brought to her head ─ about how he had first been faced with the truth that, with this tiny body of his, he could barely do anything at all.
To think that she still found comfort in that thought, that she trusted him to keep her safe…
Anya was a truly fanciful young lady, Conan decided with a shake of his head.
"Now then," Loid said after a while. "About your reward…"
"It's okay," Conan replied, maybe a little too quickly. His hands were already spread in front of him, as if they could physically wave those ideas off Loid's head if he tried hard enough. "I don't really need anything."
"It's not about what you need, Conan. It's about what you want." Conan's mouth opened, yet failed to produce any sound at all, giving the spy the means to continue himself. "Is there anything you want me to get for you? Or maybe anything you want to do?"
It clicked shut right afterwards, his hands dropping gently back at his sides as he contemplated the man in front of him ─ eyes wide as though they were seeing something for the first time, even though Loid could not quite place it.
Seconds soon turned into minutes, and Loid was pretty sure he wouldn't be walking out of it with an answer. Conan's mind seemed to be running wild with thoughts, yet he could only guess what they were about ─ and none were quite what he had been looking for.
"I'll let you think about it, but make sure to tell me." Loid smiled down at his young son, and added, "You deserve to get a reward, too."
Conan may not have provided him with an answer that night. Yet, as he threw his head backwards and the moonlight reflected on those all-too-seeing, blue eyes of his, Twilight knew he had been given plenty more than he had bargained for.