Suspects (because names can be confusing):

Kimura Takahashi - 25-year-old graduate student

Watanabe Taro- 25-year-old graduate student

Hiroshi Wataru - 25-year-old graduate student

Victim:

Kenta Tanaka - 25-year-old graduate student

Chapter 6

Hammers, Pink Hats, and Deceptions

"I don't need to be part of your experiments. I'm already embroiled in one," his words had stabbed, and the torment of guilt almost crushed her. Shiho fought with every fiber of her being not to lose control, not to show him how much it hurt. The stigma attached to the drug would never go away.

It was not his fault. Shiho understood the sentiment, but hearing it from his lips made it no better. Having made her way past the wandering police, she trekked through the woods to the campsite of the three college students. Despite her unwillingness to admit it, she owed it to him to help.

"There should be fishing boots," Shinichi had told her before he left to join the professor. "Once you find them, everything will fall into place."

With that, he left her to search through the reminisce of the campsite the victim had been staying in. Shiho was sure that the body had been moved and the victim had been murdered elsewhere. Although the physical evidence would not lie, the how and when confused her. With theories and speculations like that, she could only leave it up to the boy. Her imagination could only carry her so far—his, however, was boundless.

Opening the tent where Shiho had last seen the victim, she slipped into it as a policeman made his rounds, effectively disappearing from view. Grumbling, she looked around at the mess. The number of pillows inside was a bit odd, as they were down white pillows, usually used at home and not for camping trips. Flipping the pillows over, she sighed and pushed them aside. The boots Shinichi had been talking about were not there. Her thoughts wandered back to their conversation with the college students over dinner.

They mentioned a car, didn't they? Shiho remembered something about a Corolla sedan that one of them had driven. After leaving the tent, she made her way to the car park, where she saw a red car guarded by a lone policeman.

Covering her eyes, Shiho approached the officer guarding the car. Wails erupted from her lips. As expected, the policeman bent down, trying to comfort her.

"What's the matter, little girl?" he asked kindly, and Shiho began to whine, wincing at how horrible her voice sounded. "I lost my wallet. I can't find it. Mommy going to scold me!" she pretended, and the policemen frowned.

"Where did you lose it? Don't worry, mister will help you," he said, and Shiho pointed to the woods behind him. "It's there. I'm scared. I don't want to go in. It's so terrifying. It's so scary," she cried, and the policeman reassured her.

"It's ok, little girl, I'll get it for you. Stay here, ok. Mister will be back," he said, trying his best to comfort her. After agreeing, Shiho sent the policeman on a wild goose chase through the woods. She felt sorry for him, but more pressing business was at hand. As Shiho wiped the fake tears from her face, her expression returned to its usual stoic state. She inspected the car, walked around it, and cursed when she found the trunk—locked.

This was going to be a pain in the ass.

With the hairpin Ayumi had given her some time ago, and the paperclip Mitsihiko-kun had dropped in class a few days ago, Shiho began working on the lock of the cheap car. Sometimes, she grimaced at the thought—what the black organization taught came in handy. She heard a satisfying click and carefully opened the trunk of the car, turning on the flashlight Shinichi had given her before he left. It was strangely empty. Why would it be? They were supposed to be camping. Surely, they would have brought supplies. She paused, then reached down, pressing the sides. As Shiho suspected, she pushed harder and almost jumped on it when it released. A hidden compartment was revealed when she lifted the black cover off the bottom of the trunk.

"My, my," Shiho was impressed with what she found. "It looks like you were right, after all, Kudou-kun," she pulled on some gloves. In the secret compartment were mud-stained fishing boots. She takes out her phone and begins searching for the picture of the footprints she took at the base of the cliffs. They were a match, and she placed the evidence in a plastic bag she took from her pocket.

Now—where did he say the murder weapon was?

Inspector Megure was a tough and good man but a mediocre detective at best. He was slightly slow and needed some prompting to spot important details. Because he was prone to taking things at face value, he missed subtle clues hidden behind deceptions. Shinichi could only watch anxiously as the Inspector pondered before glancing at his watch. It was past two in the morning, and the children were already in their tents sleeping. Ran and Sonoko kept watch while Hakase was with him, trying to stall the investigation for a while longer.

Any moment now…

Upon hearing a beeping sound, he smiled and picked up the receiver.

"Kudou, you owe me, big time."

"How was it? Did you find it?"

"Yeah," she replied, "but—"

Before he could react, Shinichi heard her sigh, and he had to hold in his laughter. Haibara was covered from head to toe in a brown sludge, her clothes soaked in it.

"Ai-kun!" the professor exclaimed, and Shinichi couldn't help but chuckle.

"Let me guess," She became increasingly agitated when he laughed and, by the end, had smeared the sludge over his clothes, body, and face. The professor had to pull them apart. After glaring at each other, Haibara threw the plastic bag on the ground. There was a distinct clang, and his argument with her vanished.

"You found it," Shinichi said in disbelief. She waved him away.

"Yes, so finish this up. I need a bath in the worst way possible," Haibara looked miserable in her mud-caked clothes.

"All right, let's go," he said, and the professor turned towards Megure and the three suspects.

Watching Shinichi solve a case for the first time was strange for Shiho, she would admit. In retrospect, she realized that the professor's gadgets, though mostly useless, were the only means by which he could operate in a seven-year-old's body. Sure, being a child made it easy to sneak into places unseen and undetected, but solving crimes and getting adults to take you seriously were nearly impossible.

Tricks had to be employed here, including a professor who had become a pseudo prop for the shrunken detective behind him.

"This was a murder?" Juzo Megure asked, at first skeptical, looking at the crime scene.

"Yes," Shinichi replied, his voice that of Hakase, "look at the snow cap and the victim's head."

It was the first thing he mentioned to her.

"If he had been bleeding from the head, why would the snow cap appear relatively untouched? I would think there would have been some stains left. Perhaps from the blood from Kenta's wound or mud from the riverbed where the victim hit his head. Am I right?"

There were gasps, and the police officers surrounding them immediately took the snowcap as evidence and placed it into transparent bags. Juzo Meguro took a moment to think and then turned to the three college students before him.

"So you're telling me that the suspects are here," he said to the professor, who nodded.

"What nonsense," Watanabe Taro staring at the hat in the bag, "the water would have washed away the stains."

"Yes, it might have," Shinichi replied, "if it had been there for longer than the three minutes it took Hiroshi-san to retrieve the body." Hearing him say that, silence fell upon the three college students.

"Oh, don't you have anything else to say?" Shinichi prodded them further. The three college students looked at each other.

"I think something happened. Maybe we should compare our stories, make things interesting, why don't we?"

"The murder of Kenta Tanaka occurred a day before we reached camp," Shinichi deduced. "The attacker lured Kenta into the thicket of the woods and smashed his skull with a hammer."

"A hammer. Where did you get that?" Meguro interrupted, and Shiho grabbed the weapon soaked in blood and mud.

"Here it is, Hakase," she lifts it up. The three college students stared at her with shock and also fear in their eyes. "We found it beside a few footprints at the base of the cliffs," Shinichi explained in the professor's voice. "If you could send some of your men there, you might find some DNA evidence."

A policeman bagged the weapon in translucent bags, and Shiho lingered back, catching Shinichi giving her a thumbs up. She snorted, feeling more like an assistant working for a demanding boss than a partner right now.

"After fracturing his skull near the base, he carried the body up to the cliffs and then threw it down into the river, where the body sank and was held down using a straightforward technique. Conan-kun, could you please show Detective Megure the photograph taken at the bottom of the river?" Shinichi asked, and the boy was up, putting the bowtie away. Covered in mud stains, he removed his phone from his pocket.

Glancing at him, Inspector Megure turned to Shiho.

"I've been meaning to ask, but why are you guys covered in mud?"

"That's what he noticed," Shiho murmured under her breath, and Shinichi laughed nervously.

"We were playing around…anyway," he shoves the phone in Megure's face, "Here, Hakase said this was important!"

While speaking innocently, Shinichi showed the man a picture of a giant rock wrapped with what looked like a fishing line. Meguro regarded it carefully before turning to Hiroshi Wataru, who paled.

"I didn't do it. It wasn't me," he insisted, "I was just trying to save my friend. It doesn't make sense. I saw him jump!"

"A fall from a height of eight meters into a body of water would not kill a man, Kimura-san."

"Yes, but he hit his head—on a rock, didn't he? How do you explain that?"

"Yes, it doesn't make sense," Meguro replied, "There were many witnesses who saw the victim dive into the river at his own accord..."

Shiho having enough of the Inspector's stupidity, could not help but blurt out the answer, taking away the spotlight from Shinichi for a moment.

"Deception," she glanced at Hiroshi Wataru, who paled, "we only knew Kenta Tanaka by his pink snow hat. That was his only defining trait."

When Meguro glanced at her quizzically, Shiho groaned, and Shinichi took over, wearing the ribbon once more, and speaking in Hakase's voice. "It wasn't Kenta Tanaka who jumped off the cliff," he said matter-of-factly.

Audible gasps were heard, and the three college students stood up in protest.

"He was there, right before me!" Kimura screamed, his handsome face turning sinister as desperation filled his expression.

"Yeah, and I pulled him out of the river, didn't I?" Hiroshi said.

Only Watanabe Taro remained still.

"Yes, Hiroshi Wataru-san, you did pull him out," Shinichi continued, the professor looking at the man who shrunk back in horror. "But Kimura-san, who was it you saw leaping off the cliff?"

The man paled as he stood up, slamming his hands into his chest. "Are you accusing me of being a liar!"

"Watanabe Taro-san," Shinichi ignored him, facing the silent man instead. Taro's hands clenched at his sides, and he was glaring at the professor, sorrow in his eyes. "What were you doing disguised as the victim?"

Meguro was taken aback, and the police surrounded the man, who could only stare at the professor. His eyes were resigned as he stared at his two friends, who looked like they might faint.

"Let's start from the beginning," Shinichi explained. "After killing Kenta Tanaka with the hammer, the assailant carried the body up to the cliffs. This occurred a day ago, and when the coroner reports the estimated time of death, the evidence will become conclusive."

As the crickets chirped, the tension rose. The plastic bag Shiho carried became heavier as she observed the three college students.

"Kenta had been thrown off a cliff, and the assailant tied a rock over the body before returning to the tent. There he rigged up a dummy by stuffing pillows into a sleeping bag and placing a pink snow hat on top of it. Now, all he needed were witnesses. It didn't matter how long it took, the alibis were set, and he only had to wait patiently."

"Haibara," Shinichi gestured, and she obliged by throwing the evidence she had retrieved from the car's trunk on the ground. The plastic bag landed on the ground, bounced a few times, and before any of the college students could react, they were staring at three pairs of fishing boots. All black, muddied, and covered in an unmistakable stench of blood.

Meguro rushed towards it, inspecting the contents, and then turned to the three men. The realization sets in. Shiho pulled her phone out and displayed the picture of the footprints she had taken. The grooves on the bottom of the boots matched the prints perfectly. "Hakase found it in a hidden compartment in their car," she lied smoothly, and the professor pursed his lips in disapproval. He had no chance to nag her, though, because Shinichi started again, and he had to continue the act.

"There were three culprits who dragged Kenta to the bottom of the cliff. They killed the victim, carried his body up, and tried to erase their footprints. After dumping the body into the river below, one of them sunk it with a rock. It was a perfect operation."

Watanabe Taro rose slowly. Hiroshi buried his head in his hands, and Kimura could only gawk at the professor as Shinichi continued.

"They waited and acted like a group of friendly college graduates who were camping for leisure when we arrived. They have set up a perfect alibi by letting us confirm that Kenta was indeed sleeping in the tent." Shinichi said. "After that, they decided it was time to act, as they had witnesses. First, Watanabe Taro invited Genta and Mitsuhiko for a bath. The boys watched him enter and thought he was bathing, but he wasn't. Instead, he disguised himself as Kenta and ran towards the cliff base where he met Kimura Takahashi, who gave him the pink snow cap."

The college students tried to protest but could not rebuff Shinichi's statements. Their bluff was falling apart, and they were surrounded. The evidence mounting exponentially.

"The two men would then proceed to hike to the cliff. Having confirmed that there were witnesses nearby, they acted. Kimura-san then asked a disguised Watanabe-san not to jump. And Watanabe-san followed suit. To the witnesses, it thus looked like Kenta-san had committed suicide. It was a convincing act," Shinichi elaborated, "Wataru-san then leaped into the river to, in his own words, "Save the victim," but in actuality, was swimming towards a fishing line that was tied to a rock. A rock that was holding the real body underwater. Releasing it, Kenta's corpse would then float to the surface, which would allow Wataru-san to bring his body to shore."

The professor looked at the suspects, who were wide-eyed and shivering profusely.

"While this is happening," Shinichi continued, "Watanabe slipped into the dark forest before discarding the disguise in the garbage disposal. Naturally, stomping through the forest would leave some traces. Such as footprints on the bathroom floors. Thus, to erase them, he poured water over the public showers. It would explain why the floor was wet but did not carry the scent of disinfection solution. One which the cleaners usually use."

"Rubbish," Hiroshi cried, shaking, "it's all rubbish!"

"Conan-kun," Shinichi continued, and he reappeared from behind the professor, giving Meguro the precious evidence the children had retrieved from the garbage disposal. The item had been placed in the furnace, and if they hadn't thought to look inside, it would have been burnt. Thanks to them, the disguise that Watanabe Taro had worn had been exposed, and Meguro signaled the police to bag it as evidence.

The case was drawing to a close, and Shinichi returned to the professor to continue the act, trapping the college students in the lie they had so carefully crafted.

"Thus, the only thing Watanabe had to do was wait in his stall. When Ran called the boys out, Watanabe exited as well, thus forming his alibi," Shinichi continued. "But though he was able to conceal his footprints, he could not erase the evidence of the foliage he brought back from his little excursion through the forest." The professor raised Shinichi's phone, displaying the leaves in the photos.

"Therefore, if Watanabe Taro was in disguise, it is only logical to deduce that both Hiroshi Wataru and Kimura Takanashi were in on the act, too," Shinichi concluded.

Defeated, Hiroshi Wataru bowed his head and fell to his knees with sweat pouring from his forehead.

"So now, why would Kenta Tanaka's friends want to murder him?"

"It was Taro! He made us—" Hiroshi was desperate, jabbing at the taller man who was not defending himself.

"This can't be happening," Kimura sobbed.

The police descended on the three men, and when the flash of their torchlights hits Watanabe Taro, Shiho cried out a warning.

The man did not hesitate, whipping out a pistol and brandishing it. There was a stunned silence before Inspector Meguro ordered his men back.

"Well, it looks like you got it right after all," Taro laughed in mirth, facing the encroaching law enforcement officers.

"Stay away!" He continued. "If you know what's best for you!"

While edging toward the river, he swung the gun and pointed it at anyone who got too close.

"That mother fucker deserved it," he roared, "Three years ago, there had been a hit and run, and guess who was behind the wheel?"

They fell silent as sadness and rage filled their eyes.

Taro choked, faltering for a moment before anger took over, his eyes blazing with fury. "He took their lives. He drove over and killed them, and what did he do?"

Both Hiroshi and Kimura fell to their knees. "That bastard bragged about it. He told everyone in his drunken state that he had gotten away with it. Mina did not deserve to die in that way!"

"You could have told us," Megure tried to reason with the angry man. "You could have made a report. There was no need to kill him."

It was the wrong move, and Shinichi appeared beside her. The watch he wore always opened and pointed at the man who was becoming increasingly dangerous.

"We did!" he shouted, "but you incompetent pricks acted as if it had nothing to do with you! You said you'd investigate, but it's been a year! A year and nothing's happened!"

The gun was pointed at Inspector Megure, who stumbled back as he raised it. Taro pulled the trigger, and Shinichi missed his chance, shooting the tranquilizer dart. It did not land on the intended target. Instead, Megure slumped to the ground. Police officers gathered around their fallen comrade and found to their relief, that he was asleep and not shot. With guns raised, they turned back to the man who had opened fire.

"Shit!" Shinichi cursed.

"Way to go," Shiho quipped.

"He was in the way!" Shinichi observes the enraged man and screamed a warning.

In the space of a few seconds, Taro had the professor in a vice-like grip. Arms wrapped around the old man's throat, gun pressed into his temple.

"Taro, no!" Hiroshi shouted, "Stop this madness!"

"Shut up!" His eyes were filled with panic and pain. It was clear that he was not thinking clearly.

When Taro cocked the gun, extreme anxiety sets in. The professor was in danger.

"Hakase!"

"Get back!" Taro moved, taking the professor with him.

She had to do something...anything!

"Duck!" Shinichi shouted.

The professor, still in shock, stood motionless.

"Hakase! Now!"

Shiho's sharp voice snapped him out of his daze, and he elbowed Taro in the chest. The soccer ball whirled as Shinichi released it from his belt, and his shoes glowed brightly. When the shoe met the ball, there was a loud explosion, and the ball flew at unbelievable speeds, striking Taro straight in the face. With a cry, he fell backward, the gun flying to the ground. He should have been knocked out, but, in this case, Taro was more determined than they'd anticipated.

Blood ran down his forehead as he regained his footing. He glared at them and the professor before pulling a dagger from his pocket.

"How many weapons does this guy have?" Shinichi cried. Time slowed— Taro sprinted towards the professor again, swinging his dagger with incredible force. The professor was at risk; just a second more, and he would be stabbed.

No!

Her eyes caught sight of the pistol lying on the ground, and she dived for it.

"Haibara!" Shinichi shouted. Gripping the weapon, feeling the cold hard metal—she rolled over, aiming the gun straight at the man running toward the professor.

I will not forgive him.

"No, wrong," Gin chided. She was thirteen and staring at the paper targets a few meters away. She was gripped by fear as he placed a hand over her shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "Hold the handgun tightly," he commanded. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Raising the gun again, his grip tightened on her shoulder, causing pain, and she winced. "Harder, Sherry, how many times must I tell you?" his voice mechanical as he snatched the gun from her and pulled back the slide. The pistol aimed at the targets was now aimed directly at her. She could feel the metallic tip sticking to her sweating forehead. Transfixed by the man's glare, she froze. He pretended to pull the trigger and laughed when she fell back in panic. His lips twisted into an ugly grin. Gin was having fun with this. Hatred permeated her chest as she listened to his words. Her cheeks were red and hot. At that moment, she wanted to scream—to kill him. Shiho did not like the way he made her feel. Helpless, weak—invalid.

"Now," he pressed the gun into her forehead. "Do it again."

With both hands on the gun handle, she pulls the slide back perfectly, her arms bending a little to counteract the recoil and her fingers nestled on the wall of the trigger. As she pictured him, his taunting breaths, the torment he had inflicted on her, the hatred she felt for him— she pulled the trigger. The stench of gunfire as the bullet met its target straight in the middle.

"That's it, Sherry," Gin whispered, predatory eyes boring into hers. Her blood ran cold at his knowing expression. "Ice, Sherry," he reminded her, "There can be no emotions in this."

When Shiho failed to answer him fast enough, she was greeted with a backhand slap. The impact sends her tumbling back, and blood emerges from a split lip. She would have cried out a few years ago, but she had learned. The mantra Shiho was taught made her numb, so she controlled her emotions. Ice doesn't feel, doesn't react. If she were to be a machine, then she would be one.

"Yes," she answered calculatedly as he chuckled.

"Good, Sherry."

Shiho pulls the slide of the automatic pistol back, years of training coming back to her. Raise your hands; no, not too straight. Bend them slightly. Control the recoil, don't let it falter. Hold it tight, don't release it. Use both hands—not one. Hold your breath, just the right amount, don't force it. Ice. Control your emotions. Don't let anything else distract you. You have orders—you are to follow through; failure is death. Do you understand?

As she pointed the gun at Taro, his running form slowed. Shiho took notice of his legs, his swinging arms, and the dagger in his hands. Eliminate. Her fingers wrapped around the trigger as she aimed for his head.

"Haibara!" She scarcely remembers her name being called, and she was brought back. What was I thinking? Adjusting the trajectory of the gun, she pulled the trigger. There was a resounding flash, and her arms were flung back. Shiho was unable to control the recoil. The body of a child was far too weak. Taro fell to the ground, his right leg gushing with blood. The dagger he was holding fell to the ground, landing in some bushes.

"Who shot!" the policemen screamed in shock, some of them looking at her in disbelief. There was no time to rest, though, and they descended on the man who had threatened the professor. They cuffed him, pinning him down, and he screamed.

Taro's voice was filled with pain and torment. It was only when he called out the name of his deceased girlfriend that Shiho lowered her gun.

The adrenaline that had been coursing through her blood dissipated. She felt cold and dispassionate as if something had been stripped from her.

Yes.

She felt like—Sherry.

Shiho winced and whirled around in shock when Shinichi grabbed her tightly by the shoulder. The gun pointed at him, causing him to stumble back. She realized her mistake and lowered the gun, her hands quivering as she composed herself.

"What were you thinking!?"

"Hakase," she avoided his gaze, "How is hakase?"

"I'm fine, Ai-kun," the old man called out from a few meters away, and she walked over to him. The scuffle had left him with a bruise on his forehead, his clothes a little dirty, and his pants covered in mud. Finally, she released the tension she hadn't realized she was carrying.

"How long are you going to hold on to that?" Shinichi appeared behind her, staring at the pistol she had been holding. Her hands were still tightly coiled around the offending item. Shame overwhelmed her almost instantly. Shinichi took the gun from her, gently prying it from her fingers and dropping it on the muddy ground.

"You're bleeding," he brushed a finger against her lips. It was likely injured when she dove for the gun. Remorseful for reverting to her former ways, Shiho was about to push him away. The thought of becoming Sherry again was unbearable, and she could feel Gin's shadow behind her, urging her to embrace her old habits.

Shinichi, however, refused to let go of her. His hands wrapped tightly around her freezing digits. Slowly, the numbness retreated, and she was finally able to compose herself.

"Where's the gun!" one of the policemen demanded, "Did you use it!?"

"I warned you," Shinichi smirked before letting her go. "I'll leave the excuses up to you."

Giving a heavy sigh, Haibara faced the policemen who were descending on her.

It looks like she was in for a long night.

Shinichi watched as Haibara cried in a childlike voice. Although she had mocked him for his terrible acting, he could say the same for her. Despite having her hands over her eyes, no tears were gushing from her eyes, and her lips were set in a strange straight line. The fact that anyone fell for that farce was astounding, but they did anyway. The men who probably never dealt with a crying girl before were trying to console her.

"I was scared. I'm sorry," Haibara whined, and they took the pistol he had pried off her fingers from the ground.

"It's ok," they tried to assure her, but he couldn't help but snigger as he saw their troubled faces. It wasn't every day that they had to deal with an eight-year-old who had used a gun so proficiently. Shinichi could only imagine their reports.

A haunted cry interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to the source. Watanabe Taro, who had been pinned and cuffed to the ground. His body was curled up, and he was crying, tears running down his cheeks furiously. Shinichi winced as a pang of sympathy swept over him—a little upset that the case had to end this way.

The man, though a murderer, was also been a victim. It must have been difficult. Shinichi could not imagine what it must have been like to lose a loved one that way.

Though, if he had a guess—

Shinichi looked at the girl, who had stopped weeping and was now looking impassionately at the grieving man. She stood silently, her expression unreadable. Shinichi could never really tell what went on in her mind, but at the moment, he knew he could not leave her alone.

"Are you done crying?" he asked, knowing that comforting her in the usual manner was out of the question. It would have been met with icy stares and cold speculations, so he suppressed the urge to embrace her.

"No thanks to you," she scoffed as he sniggered.

Green eyes were still fixed on the suspect as his cries pierced the forest's darkness.

Shinichi nudges her gently, and she turns to him. "What, Kudou," Haibara snapped, her voice carrying the same biting tone he was used to, but it was softer than usual. It was apparent she was affected by the scene before her—more than she was letting on.

"Ready to head back?" he smirked, "You stink."

"And whose fault was it?"

"I wasn't the one who fell into the mud face-first," he gulped when her gaze met his.

"Hey, wait…Haibara-"

She pushed him into the river, and he fell in, spluttering a little, before surfacing. In the shallows, glowering at her, he stood soaking wet.

"What was that for!" he snapped, though he was relieved when he saw the mischievous teasing glint in her eyes once more. She extended a hand to help him up, and he took it. Before she could react, he pulled her in, and Haibara splashed beside him, emerging a second later, her hair soaked and drenched.

Shiho folded her arms, and they stared at each other for a moment.

"You're dead, Kudou."

"Look, you're clean now, aren't you?"

"If you say another word."

"Are you alright, Haibara?" Shinichi cuts short their banter. She paused.

The darkness of the night obscured her eyes hidden under auburn bangs; a faint moonlight reflected her silhouette in an ethereal silver glow—as a bitter smile formed on her lips.

"Haibara?"

It disappeared, replaced with her usual stoic countenance.

Had it been his imagination?

"Conan-kun, Ai-chan!" The cries of the children, Ran and Sonoko, interrupted his thoughts. They first gazed at the two children in the river, then at the professor laughing nervously beside them—and finally at the sleeping Inspector and three college students.

"What on earth happened?" Sonoko said with a narrowed gaze. "Hakase?"

"What were you two doing?"

"You left us again, Haibara-san and Conan-kun!" Mitsuhiko bemoaned.

"Why are you guys in the river?" Ayumi asked suspiciously as Haibara smirked at Shinichi.

Pretending to sob, she placed her hands on her eyes.

"Edogawa-kun," she sniffled with her fake childish voice, "He pushed me in."

"What—" he was cut off before he could protest.

"Conan-kun!"

And he sighed.

Damm, that evil-eyed yawny girl.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Ran asked for the umpteenth time. They had changed out of their wet clothes and taken a shower. Having been investigated and interrogated countless times by the police officers, they could finally leave the abominable campsite. The college students are a shadow of their past selves, and what remained of them were defeated husks. They confirmed the deduction that Shinichi cum professor had provided and were led to the police cars. Inspector Megure, who had been put to sleep by the tranquilizer dart, was wheeled into the ambulance.

"I will apologize to him later," Shinichi confessed, and Shiho shrugged. With their camping trip ruined, Sonoko suggested they take a detour to a famous restaurant nearby.

Shiho, despite being exhausted, didn't seem to mind. She hadn't eaten much and was beginning to feel the after-effects of hunger taking over. So, now here they were in a famous Oyako-don restaurant a few miles off. While the professor scuffed down two bowls of the famous dish, the children excitedly discussed the case. Shinichi filled them in, although he explicitly left out the part about the gun.

"Yes," Shiho answered Ran, who frowned. The girl was slightly more perceptive, and when she asked the professor about who had saved him from the hostage situation, he had rather clumsily told Ran about eight-year-old Haibara Ai shooting the gun.

"Ok," Ran patted her head slowly. "But remember, just because you've seen guns in movies, doesn't that mean you can use them?"

That was a first.

"Yes, Haibara," Shinichi's amusement irritated her. "little girls shouldn't use guns."

"Shut up," she intoned, and he sniggered.

"Ai-chan, promise me," Ran emphasized.

"Yes," she sighed. Satisfied, the girl returned to her rice dish and commented on how good it was, speaking animatedly with Sonoko.

The warm atmosphere had returned, a stark difference from the sorrow she had experienced earlier. Even now, she could feel the handle of the metallic pistol in her hands. An item without life, smelling of blood and gunpowder, a distant reminder of the past. Taking a bite of the dish Ran ordered and listening to the laughter of the children, Shiho marveled at the world Shinichi had presented to her.

Later as they clambered back into the professor's car after bidding Ran and Sonoko goodbye — and with the children sleeping at the back, did the day's events return to her. Shiho fell into her usual silence, half regretting her actions with the gun and half wondering what would have happened if Shinichi had not called out to her.

I might have killed him.

She winced. That was the truth...and the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she had any right to remain with them—in the light, free from the shackles of her past.

"You want answers?" Gin sneered as he pinned her to the wall. Shiho refused to work on the project or make any more experimental drugs. They had killed people with it, and she had allowed it to continue for too long. Not only had it destroyed their lives, but Akemi's as well. Shiho had had enough.

"Tell me," she demanded, her voice calm, steady but hidden within, a mess of boiling rage, about to explode like an active volcano. "Why did you kill my sister?"

Gin laughed and slapped her across the face before she could move. Shiho had been restrained with handcuffs that chafed at her wrist. It should have hurt, but Shiho wasn't feeling anything. Since Akemi's death, nothing else mattered, and she was done with everything.

"She disobeyed orders, Sherry. What did you expect?"

"She was my sister!" It was the first time she had defied him, her voice filled with rage. She couldn't control herself. The fiery torment had risen like a roaring dragon from the depths of her soul. She wanted to kill him—destroy everything that he represented. Shiho wanted to take the organization down.

He picked her up and threw her against the concrete wall. The look in his eyes reminds her of the first time they met— the room, a basement. The end is probably near.

"Sherry," he sighed, running his fingertips over her cheeks. She remained motionless. He had been attempting to break her, but she refused to submit. She had enough of his abuse, of his advances, of his—

Shiho stopped herself. She will not go there. It would drive her insane.

He chuckled, releasing her. "Such a shame, Sherry."

Leaving, he instructed the guard outside the door. He would be back later. Shiho was sure of it. But she felt no fear; all that swirled in her mind were memories of her dead sister—

and—

"Haibara."

Sitting next to her, a shrunken detective was observing her carefully.

"What?"

Shinichi hesitated before taking her hand in his, cupping it tenderly.

"Get some sleep," he pulls her towards him. Stunned, Shiho could only lean against him, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

"You'll protect me, won't you?" She had asked, and he had answered in kind. A passing statement, carrying no weight—a lie. She could never believe it. Would never allow herself to be swept up in superficial possibilities.

But as time passed and as the days got brighter, Shiho could no longer stop.

He was warm, and she allowed herself the respite of his embrace for a little longer.