Mission One: Conan Forger

"How nice that you and your family are moving into a new home. Do you have a boy or a girl?"

"Ah, well… I'll be deciding that soon."

From the looks of it, a girl would be his ultimate choice. A petite one, pink haired, with big, round green eyes that twinkled in something akin to excitement the moment he settled his eyes on her.

There was nothing extremely relevant about her at first glance, just yet another kid who hoped to be part of a family and escape this run-down building that could barely be called an orphanage. But of course, Twilight wouldn't have picked her if that was to be the case ─ she was one of the smartest kids around. Proof was that one impressively complex crossword on a newspaper lying on the table, forgotten after being solved in a breeze seconds ago by a girl so tiny.

Anya was six, which was perfect. She was the perfect pick. The only right choice.

"Excuse me, sir?"

A boyish voice. Bright blue eyes blinking up at him from behind oversized glasses. There was something oddly unsettling about it, which kept him from looking away and proceeding with his day ─ and his mission as well.

"Do you have a permit?"

"A permit?"

"To use a gun."

Hadn't been for his years upon years of experience working as the best spy alive in his country, Twilight had probably gasped, maybe backed away, too.

Instead, he flashed him a well-practiced, kind smile.

Humoring a comically serious small boy was the most natural response. So that was what he did, "What do you mean with that, little boy?"

"There's a mark. Right on the top side of your index finger. That's from pressing it against the trigger guard for extended periods over a long time." His gaze wandered over to the man's chest pocket, and added, "You're carrying gloves. And your steps are rather silent, too… Say, are you a detective or something?"

The kid hadn't even blinked once in his entire speech.

Twilight stood silent, then a heartbeat later, turned over to the flushed, obviously intoxicated old man who was supposed to be in charge of this sorry excuse of an orphanage. It took him another second to realize his response was needed.

"This kid's new around here," he said, waving a hand off. "His name's Conan, I think."

He thinks? thought Twilight, yet didn't comment on it.

Conan continued to stand there, not moving an inch, holding a stare piercing enough to stab his soul through his body. He didn't look like the kind who would be satisfied easily without getting the answers he wanted. A stubborn little one.

The only way of dealing with this kind of person was to simply give him one.

"I'm a psychiatrist." An answer was, indeed, an answer, but it didn't necessarily mean it had to be true. "I do have a permit, though, since I enjoy taking shooting lessons."

Pausing, he peered down at the raven black gloves barely even peeking out from his pockets. "I'm a bit of a germ freak, so I carry these just in case," he added. "I walk silently as well, but I've always been like that naturally, so I can't say anything to that."

Leaning slightly forward, he smiled as he said, "Will this be enough for you, little detective?"

Conan did nothing but narrow his eyes in silent judgment. Eventually, he seemed to either convince himself that it was sufficient, or simply lost interest. His far too sharp gaze strayed away from Twilight, spinning on his heels to approach the table Anya had been just sitting at. In a swift movement, he had plucked out the newspaper and moved to the furthest corner of the room.

Then he plopped down onto the floor and flipped over the newly completed crossword. Twilight found himself watching that strange boy, whose eyes shifted back and forth as they followed the words printed on paper.

It was rare for a child so young to pick up a newspaper of their own volition, instead of any of the colorful children's books he could clearly see lying around.

An insatiable thirst for real-world information, observed Twilight. Impressive for a boy of his age.

Speaking of which…

"How old is he?" he asked.

"Beats me. Hey, brat, how old are you?"

Conan did not even look up. "Six."

That's extremely convenient.

He didn't notice Anya's sharp turn of her head towards him.

"Well?" the man beside him said, clearly lacking the patience to wait a second longer. "Have you decided already?"

Two children gazed back at him. Sharp blue shooting from over glasses like an unamused librarian, carefully analyzing every bit of his soul. Brilliant green sparkling in something akin to hope, or maybe excitement, at the prospect of a life like no other.

That vision was obscured by his lids, lowering as he breathed in, preparing himself for taking a decision. A decision that, were he to be wrong, could potentially damage the world peace he desired so desperately.

Somehow, Loid ended up getting both.

Before he knew it, there he was, making his way back to his newly rented apartment with a girl and a boy in tow. Anya, skipping slightly ahead with a sunny grin spreading all over her face. Conan, trailing slightly behind with his hands firmly tucked inside his pockets. And himself, Twilight, squeezed right in the middle, wondering, probably for the first time in his life, if he had made the right choice.

The job he had been entrusted with was fairly easy to understand. Getting married and having a kid to enroll in the same prestigious school his target's son would be attending ─ clearly, he did not need two children for the job. Raising one should be more than enough to succeed in his mission.

Having two children might be beneficial, however. That had been his thought back then. If one of them were to fail, I'd get another chance with the other.

Increasing the chances to succeed to the maximum was elemental knowledge for spies, after all. World peace was at risk ─ if he needed to put up with two first graders for that, Twilight would certainly do it.

With that in mind, he stopped right in front of the building that he was supposed to call 'home' until the end of the mission. He turned around and faced the two little kids he was supposed to call 'his children', and opened his mouth to speak.

"Starting today, you're my children. But if anyone asks, you've always been my children."

Anya nodded, twice. Determined for some unknown reasons.

Whereas, Conan crossed his arms behind his head. "I suppose we're supposed to be twins, too," he stated, his voice plain and bored. "Since we're both the same age."

This time, it was Twilight's turn to nod. "You have always been siblings, as well," he clarified. Just in case. "And make sure you call me 'Father'."

"Papa."

"Old man."

Twilight wanted to sigh.

Conan had definitely not planned for things to go this way.

And certainly, this was not the way he expected to spend the rest of his days in the foreseen future. His body cushioned by a surprisingly comfortable couch, his eyes resting on the colorful figures moving behind a TV screen ─ all there was left was to wonder how long he had until his highly developed brain turned into a senseless mush solely stimulated by childish cartoons playing for hours to an end.

Spinning on the air, landing gracefully on his feet, the spy ─ he hadn't bothered to learn his name ─ had the gall to smirk confidently, pointing his gun right at the enemies who, helpless to do anything, raised their arms in defeat.

The heel of his hand dug against his cheek, his gaze dulling further, if possible.

Spies aren't this flashy. Or eloquent either.

In fact, had all of this happened in real life, it was obvious that this guy would have been fired. Or killed, if he kept doing all those stunts of jumping between buildings and dodging bullets, physical laws be damned.

Regardless of everything, it would seem like it worked wonders for young children. Or at least, so it did for the little girl sitting at the other end of the couch, aweing at the screen with her hands balled into little fists.

He ended up adopting us both. Conan pressed a hand to his face, because 'adopting' sounded so weird, surreal, even. I was hoping he would choose only me.

Not that he had been overjoyed at the prospect ─ in fact, he wanted nothing but to get out of this place and salvage whatever remained from his steadily dropping, once-privileged IQ.

The thing was, he might have not interacted a lot about this girl named Anya, nor did he know a lot about her, but she was still a child.

An actual child, unlike me.

Anya flinched suddenly.

Puzzled, he glanced back at the television, where the spy was gloating over his victory, tucking his gun back onto his waist ─ they haven't even bothered to draw a gun holder! ─ and made a speech of some sort to his defeated enemies. Surely, nothing especially relevant was happening to justify her antics.

Probably, he was just overreacting.

Or maybe he had missed something important story-wise, he wasn't sure. He had been only watching for a few minutes, but he was starting to feel a little dumber already. Striving to find logic and sense to a children's cartoon was wearing his brain down, clearly.

Which I shouldn't even be watching at all! Honestly, Conan wanted to scream, tear some hair from his scalp if possible, too. I'm Shinichi Kudo, the famous high school detective, for goodness' sake!

His thoughts skidded to a halt. Large, round, emerald eyes were now fixed on his being, possibly stuck on his soul too, intensely enough for him, a teenager, to try to shrink away.

"What?" he blurted out.

Anya did not reply.

What am I doing, trying to reason with a kid?

I should be doing something far more mentally challenging than… whatever this is. Conan sighed heavily. Like chasing after those mysterious men in black that fed me the drug that shrunk me…

A gasp shook her entire frame, her eyes now twinkling. This time, he actually slid away to the furthest corner of the couch they shared, attempting to put as much distance as he could in between the two of them.

Weird kid.

Pointedly ignoring the broad spectrum of expressions flashing one after another in that little girl's face, the detective leaned back on the couch. He needed to find a way to escape this her sight. Despite what appearances would lead him to believe, he didn't think it would be particularly easy.

And he didn't mean Anya, exclusively.

Steps echoed from behind, moved across the room from one side to another, making his presence known.

It can't be a coincidence that he stumbled into such a shady orphanage, among all others, looking for a child. A literate child, specifically.

From the way he moved, how he had scanned every nook and cranny from the room as he walked in, it had been clear to Conan that he hadn't been seeking a child just because he wanted one. That by itself was suspicious, let alone the way he had also expressly instructed them to lie if asked, to claim they were his biological children.

This man is probably a spy. It hadn't taken him long to deduce it. Considering this stupid cold war that this country is involved in… I wouldn't be surprised if he was sent from Westalis…

Against his will, his blinks grew longer.

The question remains, however… Is his mission to stop a war from breaking out, or is it to instigate one instead?

If a war broke out, then…

The colors on the screen began to blend together, fading in and out of darkness at random moments. Gradually, they took form, a slight resemblance to a human silhouette. Long dark hair failing over her shoulders, a warm violet gaze that would never fail to take his breath away, searching for him all over the room. Frantically. Frightened.

Ran…

White filled his vision, blocking her figure from sight. Long arms stretched at his sides, an awkward smile posed on his lips ─ it was a wonder how the girl had failed to see how panicky Professor Agasa was, desperately trying to keep her from seeing him, his shrunken self huddled under his father's desk.

The glasses now perched on his nose felt just as heavy as his heart. His chest constricted, instigated by the single peek of her afflicted gaze he was allowed to when Agasa shifted slightly to comfort her. But Shinichi knew it had to be this way, understood what the old professor had been trying to tell him ─ the longer their bond remained unsevered through time, the more danger she would be in.

Yet, the Professor had failed to realize, it would not be only Ran. Anyone who had once been related to the high school detective Shinichi Kudo would be at risk as well.

If any harm came to them, all because of his own arrogance…

Footsteps resounded throughout the massive library, fading gradually until there was nothing but the heavy pounding of his own heart. Yet, for a while, Shinichi did not move. He remained there, crouched under that desk, contemplating his own balled fists.

Distraught as the girl had been, it had been up to Professor Agasa to escort her back home. Shinichi could only imagine what kind of expression must have reigned over his face upon finding the Kudo residence eerily empty after his return.

Conan's eyes blinked back open, dazedly staring at the television, or rather, the pitch black screen that welcomed him back into the waking world. It took a moment more than necessary for his sluggish mind to realize that someone else must have turned it off at some point.

Did I fall asleep? He slowly sat up from where he had been slumped over on the couch, rubbing the last cobwebs of sleep from his eyes. Got that stupid dream again…

Of course, it wasn't just a dream ─ or at least, it wasn't as unreal as he would have wished it to be.

I barely even took a step outside my house before one of those police officers I had been running from caught up to me, he remembered. He took me to a hospital right afterwards.

An evident route to take after being witness to that especially nasty wound blossoming on the back of his head ─ it had been treated with relative ease, thus allowing him to play the concussed, likely traumatized, poor little boy who didn't remember what had happened, so all in all, it might have been a blessing in disguise.

The perks of being a cute, tiny child, he laughed to himself.

Then he stopped himself because that sounded wrong and degrading.

With him falling silent, everything went quiet as well, and thus, the confusion came. Why was it silent? Weren't there supposed to be two people living with him now? A look around confirmed what he had already known, that he was alone.

Not that he particularly minded the newfound peace, but it was, to say the least, strange.

It wasn't until he stood up to inspect the place when he found a note stuck to the fridge at the back of the kitchen.

"We're going out for a bit.

─ Loid Forger"

Conan could have laughed at that.

Forger, it is? Oh, the irony. A pretend-family forged for ulterior motives… How did I wound up in this? Never had he believed he would have been 'adopted' barely a day after he was taken to that orphanage. That he would become… a Forger?

Conan Forger. Snorting, he shook his head. Sounds terrible.

A part of him retorted that it really didn't, that it suited him perfectly. For that Conan was nothing but an identity Shinichi had forged upon leaving this world, with the only purpose of fulfilling that one mission that had brought him to life.

In his mind, the silver-haired man adjusted his black hat, a cold, malicious smirk crawling onto his lips.

I'm getting the hell out of here.

With that thought in mind, he made it to the door, seeking a way out.

Now, he had definitely not expected that escaping a spy's house would have been that easy, but then again, he was physically a child ─ a child who had finally gotten himself a home. So it probably hadn't crossed Loid's mind that he would want to do such a thing.

Alternatively, he might have been too distracted with Anya to properly lock the door, which was just as likely. Her absence indicated she had tagged along, and for what little Conan had known about her and her personality, it seemed to him that Loid had no other choice but to comply to her whims.

Conan could feel a snicker bubbling up, just by imagining what that scene must have been like.

"Hey, aren't you…?"

Twirling around in shock and fear at the prospect of being found out, the boy found two older ladies blinking at him, in utter surprise ─ which was slightly better than running into Loid, but not by a great margin. Conan thought that smiling, and remaining silent until he could disappear from their sight, would be the best way to deal with the situation.

Yet, his plans were thwarted when one of them leaned slightly closer to him.

"You're the little boy who just moved next door!"

He repressed a flinch. Word spread around so quickly that it was low-key terrifying.

"Yup!" But instead, he smiled broadly, doing his best impression of an adorable child. "My name is Conan Forger!"

Then cringed at the thought of that one name.

The lady smiled back. "Conan-kun, huh?" Yet, despite what he had been hoping, rather than leaving, the woman continued, "How old are you?"

"Six!" -teen, his mind completed.

"Are your parents home?"

This time, he couldn't keep his eyebrow from twitching ─ when had this slightly unpleasant, definitely inconvenient, little chat had transformed into a full-blown interrogation? Right now, all he could think was in how badly he needed to leave this place. The sooner, the better. Brownie points if he got to it before the spy and that over-energetic brat returned home.

A flinch ensued, yet surprisingly, it did not come from him. The lady's friend had grimaced, whatever thought that had just crossed her head prompting her to whisper into the other woman's ear.

"Hey, we just crossed his father. You know, that handsome man with the little girl…"

Conan seriously considered letting them know that he could still hear them. Perfectly so.

"I don't think he has a mother…"

"You mean he left this child home alone?"

"Maybe he forgot about him…"

"How heartless…"

The boy tilted his head. "I don't mind staying home alone."

This time around, he wasn't even pretending to be confused. In turn, all the women did was to look back at him, and eventually, smiles covered their features. They patted his head, they praised him for being oh-so-brave, or whatever ─ and that need of fleeing he stored within himself rose exponentially.

Yet, despite everything, his detective's gaze still prevailed, just as sharp as it had been in the past where he, ironically, had been ten years older. It made it easier to pick on the pity in their eyes, no matter how hard they tried to hide it.

That wasn't something he was interested in dealing with.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go!" he chirped cutely, putting on the brightest smile he could muster. "My dad forgot something really important."

He inwardly twitched at the word 'dad', but it didn't seem that any of those ladies noticed.

"If I don't hurry, I won't catch up with him!"

And promptly spun on his heels, skipping ahead before any of them could stop him. Though her glances did not seem to vanish, boring holes in the back of his head.

What's with these ladies? Such a pain…

He thus skipped down the stairs, hoping to sneak out of their sight as quickly as his ridiculously short legs could take him. Hoping down two at a time, rushing to the doors like the building was on fire, he successfully stepped into the daylight, panting as he stood there, in the entrance of that apartment complex he was supposed to call 'home' now.

Such a ridiculous thought.

I don't have any time to waste, thought the shrunken detective, nodding to himself, and started walking. I won't be able to find anything about those men in black if I idle around here, playing family or whatever.

Which, really, it was probably better said than done ─ Conan became aware of this fact only minutes after starting on his own little investigation. The city was so big, maneuvering through the sea of legs incredibly hard ─ strong currents created by dozens upon dozens of citizens that went about their day, unaware of the small form that tried to do the same, only to get pulled in so many directions that made him want to scream out.

But he wouldn't, because he knew nobody would ever hear.

Sunset found Conan's determination flickering away, his stubby legs stumbling with one another as they led him forward, no clear destination in his mind. Of course, he had known already that it wouldn't be easy, but his conviction had stood firm, regardless. An unfounded belief that he could accomplish anything if he put his mind on it. That he was Shinichi Kudo, renowned high school detective ─ the word impossible wasn't in his dictionary.

But for Conan's, it was hard to tell. How long had been aimlessly investigating this city? He didn't know, but results weren't appearing to be too promising, either. No matter how hard he worked, with no lead to follow, it was all for naught.

He was only six now, after all.

Something at the corner of his eye froze Conan's whole being solid, his steps halted, his line of thought paralyzed. Only his gaze was able to move, sliding to the side and zeroing on the object that had caught his attention.

Lips pursed, he drew in a deep breath. His feet moved again, entirely on their own, taking him to the ordinary phone booth he had just found.

The limited change he kept inside his blazer rattled lightly as it was plucked out. Before he knew it, a handset was pressed against his face, held in place with hands far too small for its size, listening to each beat attentively, his stomach churning and twisting, nervous for reasons he wasn't entirely conscious of.

Until her voice reached his ears. "Mouri Agency, can I be of assistance?"

Eyes twinkling, Conan beamed. "Ran!"

There was a pause, far too long for it to be reasonable.

"A child?" he heard her mutter to herself.

Just like that, it had evaporated at the following second. A hand rose to his throat, fingers grazing against his neck. His smile faded, eyes widened at the horrifying realization that had just dropped over him like a bucket of icy water.

And his heart, once frantically pounding against his chest in anticipation, dropped somewhere at his knees.

"Hi, little one," Ran said again. Softer, gentler ─ the tone she would use with a little child, like he was. "Is there any adult with you I could-?"

Although it was her voice the one he had been missing the most, he hung up right away ─ knowing well enough that this was for the best, the best for her. If he kept on the line any longer, he wouldn't be able to hold back. To keep her away from any of this.

And he couldn't do this to Ran. That was why he had left in the first place.

He stepped out of the phone booth again, ten times as drained as he had been before. Aching feet only took him a few steps forward before they failed, his shoulder running against the bricked wall of a random building. He all but slumped against it, and did not move again.

Except for his hands extending over his own dulled gaze. Tiny, chubby fingers flexed, curled into small fists as per his input.

A laugh escaped Shinichi's lips ─ dry and bitter in his thoughts, high-pitched and adorable to his own ears.

How pathetic.

"What are you doing here?"

Having barely avoided jumping out of his skin, he whirled around to find a figure of a man towering over him. He inwardly winced, not by his sudden presence per se, but by his current predicament. Large, dark bags collecting under his eyes, his arms full of books and grocery bags and little Anya, drooling on his shirt as she slept peacefully at Loid's expense.

"I was bored and wanted to explore a little," lied Conan. He eyed him for a moment, then added, "Do you, uh, need help?"

Loid observed him for a little longer than a beat.

A few seconds later, he was walking, his short arms fumbling to get the many groceries from slipping, smiling regardless to convince Loid, who eyed him intently, that he was holding on perfectly on his own ─ that he was no child. He could do as much, thank you very much.

Loid's gaze, far too sharp, all too seeing, was still stuck to his form. He wondered if he had seen his eyebrow twitch, too.

"What?" Conan blurted out, finally deciding he had enough.

Loid stared at him for a second longer.

"Those glasses you're wearing," he began. "They don't have any lenses."

"I plucked them out," admitted Conan. "Since I don't really need them."

But Loid continued on looking at him. His silence unnerved him more than anything else, so he put on a bittersweet smile, his head dropping lightly, focusing his gaze on the tips of his shoes.

"They were my father's," he whispered.

And he wasn't really lying there, they were actually his. Granted, he had found them in his desk and had put them on, hoping that his face wouldn't be as recognizable at first glance, at least. He doubted his dad would care anyway, in fact, he wasn't sure he would realize they were gone.

Internally, he wondered if there was a possibility that his father did realize his glasses were missing, yet failed to notice his son was, too. He wished he could say, with utmost certainty, there was no way it would happen.

Shuffling with the many books and girl he carried, Loid managed to free one of his hands, which he extended to him. Conan stared back, not batting an eye, expectant.

"Lend me those frames," Loid said. Conan appeared confused and surprised, all at the same time. "I'll see to place some non-prescription lenses on them."

It took a moment more than needed for the boy to understand, motioning to the bags in his arms as if telling him he couldn't do so right now ─ a beautiful excuse not to admit he wasn't comfortable roaming around the city with his real face plain in sight. Loid fell quiet, his hand returning to the books and gaze falling back on the road ahead, deciding they could do that once back at their apartment.

Conan found himself snorting. "You're surprisingly nice, old man."

Loid did not comment on that.

A/N

Beika is now set somewhere in Ostania, for convenience's sake.