Chapter 1
Martyr
Technicalities.
It was easier to fall back into casual banter than to confess the feelings she hid. In the end, it all boiled down to technicalities. As the only person capable of working on a cure, she was his only hope. He, on the other hand, was her way out of an impossible predicament. A way to escape and take down the organization she had known her entire life. Thus, it was easier to resort to cold retorts and icy remarks. Easier to use harsh words to keep him at bay and lie…to herself.
"Why did you do that?" He glared at her. Azure boring into green. Though she would never admit it, she liked his eyes. Warm blue, filled with passion, showing fiery emotions unlike any of her former colleagues. Wincing at the thought, she turned away from him, grimacing from the wound at her side. A medical machine beeps next to her every so often, and an IV drip hangs above the needle inserted in her wrist.
The bright white lights of the private ward do nothing to help with her condition. With arms folded, and lips set in a grim line, he was positively livid, hot, and bothered under his collared blue shirt. "Why does it matter, Kudou?" she replied dismissively. Sighing with exasperation, he eyes her with indignation—hands curled into fists.
"Were you trying to leave!" He spat. There was a pregnant pause, a silence that stretched across.
"Kudou," she snorted. "Were you blind?" Her tone was deliberate. "If you haven't noticed, I did it to save the children."
"You didn't even defend yourself!"
"Of course," she scoffed, "Does the term robber mean anything to you?"
"He stabbed you, Haibara!" Shinichi ignores her. "You smiled. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
His arms were now raised in the air, pointing accusatory fingers at her. She was unwilling to face him and was compelled to look at her hands, still bruised from the attack. His words were biting, and she wished for the darkness of the professor's basement.
Did she smile? Shiho couldn't recall. All she remembered was the burly man dressed in black. He reminded her of Vodka, but the uncanny resemblance disappeared after he opened his mouth. This robber was not a cold, calculated killer but rather a rabid instigator determined to escape. Brandishing the short silver dagger, he ran with a gurratual cry towards the detective boys and Ayumi.
And at that moment, all Shiho could see was her sister. Her reaction was almost immediate. Kudou could not stop her. She was stubborn. As the robber raised the weapon, she jumped in front of the children. Screaming, he slammed the dagger down, and the pain was almost instantaneous.
As he raised his dagger again, a football was lodged into his face, and he collapsed. Shiho did, too, albeit slowly, sinking to her knees as the wound by her side gushed with blood. Pain radiates from within, causing her knees to give way. The blood was warm, carrying with it a familiar stench that Shiho wished she could forget, but—
"Akemi," she thought.
There were cries from the children, shouts from him.
And the last thing she remembered was—
"Akemi. I am on my way."
Shiho was pulled back to reality when a hand gently lifted her chin. She found herself staring at those deep cyan eyes once again, wavering, burning—warm. There was something else, something she could not decipher. And she thought she had learned to read him. That she knew his behaviors, his strange habits—everything. But here, he stood, a mystery. A puzzle she couldn't solve.
"Haibara," Shinichi whispered, "Don't run."
She was almost taken aback by his sincerity. She wanted to believe him.
She wanted to be—
Smiling bitterly, she sweeps the thought aside. She had to rationalize. Couldn't allow herself to be swayed by his boyish charm.
It would hurt—too much.
So she did the only thing she could.
Technicalities.
In the end, everything fell back to technicalities.
"Kudou," Shiho smirked, "If it had been you, I would not have bothered."
His jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly. "Sure, sure," Shinichi released her.
"Did you solve the case in the end," she asked, "Corpse magnet?"
"Urgh, why are you so—" he paused, "Never mind."
"You've been out for two days. Get some rest. And if you must know, yes, I did solve it. No thanks to you, though."
"Ara, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have the murder weapon," Shiho motions to the wound by her side.
"Are you serious?"
"You're welcome."
"Haibara, there are other ways to get it," he fumes.
"Stabbing me was the fastest way, wasn't it?" she jokes, amused by his glare.
"You're an idiot."
"Ara? Worried? If you fret too much, you'll get wrinkles. Lose your hair," she chuckles a little when he reaches for his hair. "Besides, I'm not some weak princess you need to protect."
It is her words that come back to bite her. The lie she told caused her to falter for a moment. A sharp pang spreads across her chest, and she retreats.
I'm not someone worthy of—
Suddenly, he was standing before her. Hands uncharacteristically cupping her cheeks.
"You might not know," Shinichi began, "but you mean a lot to us. To Hakase, to Mitsuhiko, to Ayumi, to Genta, heck—" he paused. Seemingly struggling with himself, he regards her—before tightening his hold.
"Even to me," he admitted quietly.
Shiho urged herself to stay calm. To stop the furious pounding in her chest. But it overflowed, and she could not look away.
"Please, Haibara," he whispered. "Do not go."
Then he released her, and she was able to breathe again. Shinichi was a little flushed, scratching his chin awkwardly, and Shiho turned away.
She had to erase this notion. Shiho could not allow herself to go too deep. It was easier to pretend than to admit the truth.
"Of course, I won't," she lied, her voice carrying the playful quality that irritated Shinichi. "Who would stop Hakase from turning into a whale?"
He hated when she did that, and she found herself smirking as he went about arguing with her. Their banter continued into the night. A game she would play for as long as she could.
Later, when she was alone in the darkness of her private ward, a lump formed as her throat constricted. The tears started slowly but then grew, and soon she could not stop. Leaning back to the pillows, hands cupping her eyes, with the wound pounding feverishly at her side, thoughts of her sister haunted her deep into the night.
He was right.
Miyano Shiho had wanted to die.