File One Hundred and Fifty-Eight: Scars of Revenge
Under the warm glow of the afternoon sun, she crouched low. Around her, the world plunged into a deadly silence, broken only by the restless flicking of a tail against the ground not unlike a serpent suddenly granted with a life of its own, fangs poised for the strike.
Bright green eyes locked on the target, narrowing into slits with the focus of a professional hunter. They followed its movement sliding up the walls, gliding across the table and weaving around the drying rack without disturbing a single mug. All the while, she remained utterly still, watching intently as it slid down to circle her, almost teasingly, until it finally stopped. Right in front of her, like it was daring her to try.
But she was a predator, and a predator never backed away in the face of a challenge. With unwavering resolve, she leaped with all the grace of a beautiful panther, born to hunt and to reign over everyone else.
She flopped back a few steps later, blinking owlishly at the bright red dot that had somehow escaped from the jaws of death, sitting calmly over her extended paw. Somewhere in the background, she thought she heard the world laughing at her, but before she could even wonder what laws of physics this thing had broken, it had scurried away.
Watching the feline scramble to chase after the wandering laser point, Conan clamped a hand to his mouth, muted laughter shaking his frame from head to toe. Ai rolled her eyes at him, hardly impressed.
"Please refrain from bullying my cat," Ai said, flipping a page from her book over. "Or at the very least, make sure she doesn't break anything."
Conan hummed in reply, moving the pen in his hand. Irene's head followed the laser's movement. "Didn't hear you say that last time the Professor exploded the kitchen."
She shrugged. "I made sure it wasn't happening again," she said, her tone dangerous to Conan's ears.
"Okay, fine," he huffed, and with a click, Irene was jumping to her feet in a frantic search for the prey that had magically vanished. He placed the pen back in his pocket, that Ai could distantly remember as an old invention from the Professor did he seriously put a laser to it? What was he thinking? and hopped back to his feet. "I'll just see what he's doing. He's taking too long."
"Be my guest."
But he hadn't waited for her approval, and was out of the room before she could finish her sentence. Irene tilted her head, watching him go for a moment, until she felt herself being scooped out from the ground and into somebody else's arms.
Giggling, Ran cuddled the cat closer to herself. "Aren't you the cutest thing in the world?"
"You could get a cat yourself," Ai commented, matter-of-factly. "Conan would appreciate it." And I would, too, was left unsaid.
"He would," she agreed, laughing lightly. "But Dad would definitely not."
The few visits they had received from her mother's Goro-chan's had taught her that much, after all, and she now certainly knew better than to try any further. Therefore, for now, she would only content herself with settling on the sofa and smiling as the feline promptly yawned, kneading her clothes before getting comfortable in her lap.
Next to her, the little girl remained utterly quiet, her reading session undisturbed. But as Ran glanced over, she felt her smile fading a little the moment she spotted it a mark, far too small to even be called a scratch, or even to be noticed had she not known it would be there. Had she not been there as a witness to the knife digging threateningly against her skin, usually gelid teal-colored eyes widening in both surprise, and dare she say, a bit of fear.
Her hand rested on the comfortably napping cat, absently carding through raven-black fur as if it would anchor her to reality, and away from those thoughts that had been wandering freely all over her mind, wrecking havoc ever since last night in that old shed she'd once been too terrified to even breathe close to.
When Conan had reluctantly told her all about the case, and the plan he had whipped in the spot to capture those thieves, Ran had insisted on coming along. She had decided that, were any danger to come for him or any of his friends, she would not hesitate to knock the lights out from a criminal or two, make use of her well-earned black belt and break some bones if necessary.
But it all had happened just too fast, and in a single heartbeat, Shiratori had been knocked out and the knife had been at Ai's throat suddenly reminding them that there were supposed to be four thieves, as opposed to the trapped three that were glaring at them down the basement.
The fourth one, as they had found out, was an especially persuasive one. Ran had hesitated for a second further than she should, but the sight of him pressing his weapon further against the little girl's neck had been effective. She was forced down the trapdoor first, followed by Conan and the rest, until finally, it had been Wakasa's turn.
She had claimed it was an accident, but Ran could swear she had seen a certain glint in her eyes that she, somehow, thought she could recognize. Then, she had pushed Ai out of the thief's grip and down the basement with them, and before anyone could even draw a single breath, the trapdoor had been closed.
And Ran… she hadn't been able to do a single thing. Not even to push the trapdoor open someone was standing on it, male screams only barely making it past the wood against her palms. Eventually, though, it gave in, and the sight awaiting her would probably refuse to leave for quite a while longer.
The thieves, she had realized then, weren't as covered in bruises as she would expect from what she had heard. There were only a few, the back of the neck for some, under the chin for others, and a certain handprint in someone's forearm that was, for the record, lying right next to its owner in some odd, unnatural position.
Granted, Ran was aware that clinically clumsy people could get extremely and bizarrely lucky in some cases being a classmate to the walking hurricane of misfortune known as Hondou Eisuke had done nothing but cement the idea in her mind. But this, this, was a bit…
"You mentioned it before, didn't you, Conan-kun?"
They had been a block away from home when she found she had enough of a grip on her thoughts to ask. Conan had peered up at her, tilting his head in a silent request for an explanation.
"You mentioned earlier," and so she had given it to him, "that you totally forgot about that old schedule until Wakasa-sensei accidentally tore your class' apart."
Conan had merely nodded, slowly. It had been easy to see his mind working through his gaze alone, but seeing the moment he connected a single dot? Not so much.
"And what with it?" he had asked back.
Ran remembered falling silent. She didn't remember ever stopping walking, but since the boy was now standing in front of her, waiting, she supposed she had.
It hadn't escaped her notice, back then, that he could reach for her hand with little issue now, but in her hold, his fingers were still so small.
She had breathed out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Just… be careful, okay?" she had told him, though it sounded distinctively as a plea to her own ears. "With her, I mean."
Conan had not said anything, but he had squeezed her hand, and for her, that was enough. There she had wondered, and still wondered, if maybe she was worrying too much. But right now, it felt as if that was about everything she could do.
How frustrating.
"You can leave whenever you want."
That right there had been Ai, jerking her out of her thoughts. She hadn't even turned to look at her, the monotonous calm of her voice a disturbing kind of reassurement she had long grown used to, somehow. It was familiar, proof that everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be, nothing had changed. Yet.
"I'm sure that a detective from Osaka is going to be here any minute. We can handle him until then."
"Oh…" Ran murmured, blinking at nothing in particular as she struggled to put herself back together and pretend she was perfectly functional. "Oh, right."
But Ran didn't move, not even an inch. Ai considered her in silence.
A sigh later, she had snapped her book closed. Ran had barely time to wince in surprise before she was met with her piercing, perpetually dull gaze on her.
"It's not like I can't understand where you're coming from," Ai confessed with a sigh. "But he will be okay, even if you look away for a moment. We are here, too, after all."
She didn't get to add anything else to her response, as her attention was suddenly caught by the wide, wide purplish blue eyes fixed on her. Surprise was painting each corner of Ran's face, and even though Ai could not entirely identify the core of the matter, it made her fall silent with anticipation.
Eventually, even that faded away. The tension in the older girl's shoulders hardly waned, however.
"How do you do it?" Ran asked, still unable to keep the shock from her voice. "Aren't you scared, Ai-chan?"
"I am."
Her answer had been immediate, for Ai had no doubts about it. She was she had always been, from her earliest years. Even in her dear sister's arms, where it had always felt the safest, she had been so afraid that the crows she'd been warned about coming one day and taking everything that mattered the most.
And they did. One bullet and that was it, the warmth of her loving embrace giving way to a cold winter that would never end seeking comfort in the middle of a snowstorm, shivering on her little red hood while she waited for the day the wolves finally came to claim her back.
His grip had been a bit too tight back then, but strangely warm. It still felt that way as she now cradled his gift to her chest, the gentle clinking of a silver dolphin pendant caressing her ears.
"But someone once told me something," she whispered, a faint little smile timidly peeking in. "He told me not to run from fate."
For a brief moment, Ran only watched her in shocked silence. Until, of course, a smile came to play at her lips, stretching from ear to ear.
"Oh, did he now?"
Ai decidedly looked away. "He has a way with words," she admitted, her voice detached as if the blood was not rushing to her face. "If he wasn't dead-set on becoming a detective, he could make a career as a criminal mastermind."
That didn't seem to work, seeing that Ran simply scooted closer. In turn, Ai slid a little further away.
"When did that happen?" Ran insisted, and silence was everything she received. "Come on! Even if I asked him, he would never tell me." Silence. "I won't say a thing, I promise!"
There was a long, drawn-out sigh. "It isn't as impressive as it sounds," Ai murmured, arms locked over her chest. "He was just being the usual self-sacrificing idiot he is, surprisingly incompetent when it comes to keeping his nose away from other people's business…"
"Now I'm even more curious!" Ai failed, or refused, to answer. Ran pressed her palms with one another, absolutely refusing to concede defeat. "Pretty please, Ai-chan~?"
Just then, Conan walked in. Leisurely, pushing his glasses further into the bridge of his nose and prompting Ran to retreat, a disappointed frown in her face Ai opted to ignore.
In his arms, he was carrying his usual red shoes, as well as a belt and suspenders. At least he had remembered to have the Professor check if everything was in order this time lest he wanted to end up trapped in a burning old cabin like that one separate time he liked to pretend it had never happened to begin with. She suspected he didn't want a repeat, which was extremely valid, even if he wouldn't say it out loud.
Though he did say his eventual meeting with one certain Hattori Heiji had something to do with it, and that, she could believe. The world could only deal with one murder magnet per square meter at a time, and each passing day made it clear that the Osakan detective had gotten infected by that strange condition at some point in time.
"Although I do have a vague idea, I don't really know what Hattori wants," Conan was telling the Professor, who walked in right after him with a tight smile on his lips. "With him, everything is possible, so it's nice to know that…"
He trailed into silence, blinking owlishly at the girls huddled suspiciously together on the sofa though it was mostly Ran's doing than her own, to be fair.
"What are you two doing?"
"Oh, don't mind us, Conan-kun," Ran said, smiling brightly. Maybe a bit too bright. "It's just girl talk. Right, Ai-chan?"
Ai refused to move. And similarly, Conan's neurons refused to synapse.
"By the way, Conan..." Agasa said, placing something on top of the pile of gadgets currently tucked away in the boy's arms. "Here, you forgot this."
It was his wristwatch, Conan noticed, still blinking a bit too dazedly. The Professor had heaved a lengthy sigh, eyebrows inching together in what he would interpret as exasperation. Which was weird, because he hadn't done anything yet. Or well, so he thought.
"If I hadn't checked, I wouldn't have known I had to replace the dart," he told him, and indeed, he sounded exasperated. "You should have told me you've already used it up!"
Had he? Conan crooked his head slightly, struggling to remember when such a thing had happened, and drew a blank. But he didn't let that bother him, because really, was it all that surprising if he just forgot? Too many things had been happening at once, and his mind had been all over the place lately.
The boy smiled lightly. "I'll be more careful," he promised, hoping it would appease him. Agasa didn't respond, but he did sigh again, and that was what he would take as his answer.
Not that there would be time for anything further than that, ears picking up a certain engine sound coming closer until it stopped right in front of the house. Conan instantly rushed up to the nearest window at that, peering outside to see that, indeed, there was a certain bike parked at the opposite lane.
"I guess that's my ride," he said. Then, sighing heavily, he added. "He's late."
Ran giggled under her hand. "Maybe he needed some time to prepare himself?"
"I need time to prepare myself," the boy muttered, rushing somewhere to the back of the house.
He returned only a few seconds later, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and hurrying out to the door. She was about to tell him to be careful out there, have him wish Hattori good luck on her stead, or something she wasn't too sure of herself.
But Conan wasn't leaving like she'd been expecting.
Her words froze in her throat, his hand didn't move away from the doorknob. He was silent, so was she.
"Ran-neechan?" came his voice, extremely small and hesitant it reminded her yet again of the young soul that actually lived there, behind that blue gaze that, normally bright and sharp, looked up at her.
As if she could give him all the answers he had been looking for so desperately.
"If I hear about him, you'll be the first to know," she told him. Conan was still looking at her, like he couldn't bring himself to move.
She pressed her lips together, forcing a crooked smile that would fool nobody. Especially not him.
"You know how he is, that mystery freak." But she would at least try her darndest, if it meant a shot at dispelling the shadows that haunted that young, young gaze of his. "He's probably run into a case and lost track of reality. He'll call once he's solved it."
He didn't react, but Ran's smile did in her stead. It grew, just barely enough to be noticed, softening around the corners into something marginally more genuine if tainted by a certain bitterness that, stubborn to leave her, was clinging onto her, heavy on her soul.
"Now," she told him. "Go and have some fun, Conan-kun."
God knew the boy needed it.
Conan hesitated, fingers clinging to the doorknob without moving an inch, but eventually, he nodded timidly. He muttered something she failed to elucidate, opened the door, and just as quietly disappeared behind it.
Only then did Ran allow her shoulders to drop, her hand idle on Irene's ridiculously soft fur as an anchor to keep her from spiraling down and somewhere away away from the vicious waves of pointless questions that rose high and above and threatened to pull her down, down and down.
Silence remained, rising stronger than ever. Ai wasn't only disregarding her presence, she was avoiding her gaze as if her life depended on it.
The waves climbed dangerously high, but Ran held her head higher.
"Ai-chan." At first sight, it seemed like she hadn't reacted at all. Looking closer, however, Ran could see that her grip on her book had tightened just a little bit. "Do you know anything?"
For a beat, there was nothing. Irene rose her head, tilting as she curiously analyzed her, as if she was secretly wondering what her next move would be. Her ears twitched, and she turned to see that Ai had closed her book, and now it was resting on her lap.
Ai's fingers traced absently the words engraved on the cover a well-loved book, one that Ran remembered seeing in Conan's hands more than once, eyes widening like a deer in headlights after being caught in the middle of his late-at-night reading session under the bed covers.
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. Once adored by Shinichi, her mind whispered before she could control it. Passed down to his little brother, now it found itself in this detached, supposedly disinterested, little girl.
"There's nothing certain about it," Ai said, suddenly pulling her out of her thoughts.
How silly of her, since she had asked for a question. And now, she wasn't sure she wanted that answer anymore.
"But right now, all I'm hoping is that it never becomes anything beyond that."
Tick-tock, it went on, filling the silence that would have been deafening otherwise heavy with anticipation, uncertainty, of thoughts that scattered aimlessly all about. Tripping with one another as, clumsily, they struggled to make sense of themselves.
Tick-tock, a constant reminder, as precise as unrelenting. That something big may be going on right now, that absolutely nothing may be happening right now not anymore, and for him, that thought was sufficiently disquieting.
Tick-tock, counting up. Tick-tock, counting down. Tick-
Hakuba closed his pocket watch sharply, silencing everything all at once though he knew it could never truly be. For the low hum of the engine remained, as well as the gentle scratching of a pencil against paper coming from the backseat, meddled with and became one with his own thoughts.
One day, five hours, twenty-four minutes and sixteen seconds had passed ever since that cryptic call he had received. Kudo's labored breathing back then had been, as much as a source of concern, the latest sign of life they had gotten from him. Though a part of him wished they could've gotten something more to go by had Kudo tried to leave a message, he had been left wondering ever since then, only for his weak voice to be drowned by the static?
Hakuba certainly wouldn't know, and a part of him feared that he would never know. For, even though he'd been counting the seconds that had tickled by ever since he'd last heard of him, there was no telling how much they had left if there was any time left, that was.
He sounded as though he was in pain. Perhaps he was wounded and was trying to get help.
Or passing down a message to pin the criminal down, if he realized he wouldn't get through it at all. Kudo and his righteous heart, of course, wouldn't let him think of him otherwise.
Shaking his head, Hakuba picked his phone up, scrolling down to see if he had missed any new text from Aoko or, in some incredibly miraculous turn of events, Kuroba himself. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing to see there, aside from the 'No Service' sign at the top of his screen that, tauntingly, reminded him it was useless to hope for anything else.
During the call with Kudo-kun, it sounded like the service on his end was poor. It made him think of a desolate place, so how could he have ended up there? Unless he had been led there by someone, somewhere where he couldn't get help easily. I tried to call afterwards, but I couldn't get through.
Taking that in consideration, then it solidified the involvement of a third party that would get rid of the phone as evidence. That being the case, then with a ninety-nine percent certainty, it was likely that Kudo had really…
"Saguru-botchama," he heard, jolting him out of his thoughts. His dear nanny at the wheel didn't bat an eye, but Hakuba was certain that she had noticed him flinching, only that had chosen silence for his sake. "Perhaps it would be in your best interest not to delve into the issue until we arrive at our destination."
It was a sensible thing to say, like everything else this wise woman had ever spoken since he could remember. Yet, unlike her, Hakuba failed to find the right words to utter at that very moment.
Since he was well aware that, even if his pocket watch lay closed on top of his palm and he couldn't truly see it, time had not yet frozen still and that, if it was about Kudo, Kudo's time, it was likely that he couldn't say the same. Yet, there could be something out there that he had left behind for someone else to find, so that they could solve this one last case that had taken everything away. Presumably.
It is my duty, as a detective. Even though it wasn't his area of expertise there was no thief to catch, to tail all over the world until he could put them behind bars. What lay in front of him right now was a murder missing person case, and for the sake of justice, he'd have to see Kudo's wishes through.
On the backseat, however, Akako remained silent as she'd been the entire ride, a focused frown on her features as she scribbled down onto the notebook on her lap. A red diary sat at her side, small and unassuming at first sight, it didn't fail to steal a faint shiver out of the blonde detective.
Maybe, he did have some clue he could follow. Though he wished that he could be wrong, for once.
Kashiko glanced over, her gaze soft as it fell on the teenage boy.
"We will arrive in Enoshima shortly," she told him. "Please be patient for the time being-"
Her reaction had been fast, so fast that Hakuba hardly realized there had been something on the road to begin with. He only caught a flash of blue and a tiny figure, standing firm with his small arms extended to his sides in front of the oncoming vehicle, before she hit the brakes.
The car screeched to a halt, stopping a few centimeters short of bright red shoes that simply refused to run, or even retreat a step back to assure his own safety. Too shocked to even draw a breath, Hakuba leaned forward for a better look, yet only managed a glimpse of a single tuft of black hair, bobbing as it moved across his field of view.
It stopped at Kashiko's side, and a small hand popped in to knock on the glass window. After a confused halt, the old woman carefully lowered the window, and soon, the tuft of hair became a small face paired with oversized glasses.
Instinctively, Hakuba placed his watch back in his pocket.
"Are you okay, little boy?" Kashiko asked, her voice firm but not unkind.
The boy seemed to frown, maybe at the way she had worded it, and tried to prove her wrong by standing on the tip of his feet. He managed two astounding inches' worth of height, and like so, Hakuba was finally granted by the sight of the boy scrunching his nose in disgust. Whatever he was pouting would remain a mystery because he didn't manage to see his mouth, but considering everything, it was still a possibility.
Funny that this was what he was bothered about, as opposed to almost being run over seconds ago. Though Hakuba wasn't surprised he may not know this boy very well, but he had spent enough time with a certain someone to know that, yes, that reaction was extremely predictable.
"What are you doing out there, all on your own?" the woman asked when she didn't get a response. The boy frowned in return. "Is there someone with you that-?"
"Please, contact the police!" he suddenly exclaimed, startling Kashiko into silence. "There has been a murder!"
Kashiko sat back, and simply stared down at the child in both surprise and concern, until finally, she turned her head Hakuba's way. He didn't move at all at first, and instead, simply watched as the boy curiously followed her gaze, stretching his neck as much as he could so that he could see him. His eyes widened so dramatically that had his own lips twitching on their own.
"We meet again," Hakuba said, feeling a smirk forming onto his face before he could help it, "Little Detective of the East."
Little Edogawa Conan blinked dazed like one waking from a long dream. "You are-"
"Where do ya think yer going?!"
And just like that, he was dragged up and away from his field of vision. So suddenly at that, Hakuba had to wait for about half a second for his body to react, and when he did, he found yet another familiar face scowling down at the boy.
What a curious thing, Hakuba pondered. Great Detective of the West Hattori Heiji himself was there, practically in the middle of nowhere with him entirely by chance, lifting a young prodigy of a sleuth by the hood of his shirt to glare at him. But somehow, the bright green jacket he was wearing happened to be the most out of place he could spot as it was.
The bizarre coincidences, the fact that this one child could've become roadkill hadn't it been for his nanny's reflexes, or that this same boy appeared so unflappable at the anger he was receiving from close… felt incredibly ordinary somehow. Well, Hakuba supposed, this may not be all that out of the norm for those two, which was slightly concerning.
He didn't stop to think about the implications of him being unsurprised by any of that, and simply climbed down from the car.
"I already knew you were crazy, but this?!" Hattori was saying, absolutely oblivious to his presence. From the way Conan's eyes shifted to Hakuba while he approached before they returned to Hattori, he'd have expected to notice something. Alas, he continued, "I take my eyes off you for one second and you run into traffic?!"
Conan shrugged. "It's more like one singular car on an unpaved road in the middle of nowhere."
"But it would still be me the one telling your neechan! You're basically killing me here."
"Way to make my hypothetical death about you. Impressive."
Come to this point, Hakuba couldn't stop himself from snickering.
"Truly impressive indeed," he said, stealing out of Hattori the most violent flinch he had ever seen from anyone before. "You never cease to surprise me, Hattori Heiji-kun."
Naturally, he spun around, and for the longest time, he merely stared at him, wide-eyed as if he could not truly believe what he was seeing. Until he eventually redirected it to that one boy who, still hanging limply from his hold, returned the glare with the plainest expression he could manage.
"Believe it or not, I did not plan for this to happen," Conan said. "It is just a coincidence."
Hattori said nothing, but his silence was far more telling.
"Seriously, you of all people?" Conan huffed. "Or are you telling me you were planning on running into a corpse today, too?"
He opened his mouth in a reply that never came. Gently lowering the little detective back onto the safety of firm ground, he sighed a sign of defeat, temporary as it may be, for Conan knew that completely giving up and this particularly stubborn subspecies of great detective known as Hattori Heiji did not truly go together.
But he wasn't about to complain. Conan liked having his feet on the ground quite a lot, thank you very much.
"Well, anyway, Hakuba, wasn't it?" Hattori said, nonchalantly. Conan could not help but raise his eyebrows at him, but the teenager had always been too good at only paying attention when he wanted to. "We'll handle this by ourselves. Just go get some help while we-"
"If I'm not mistaken, there should be a police station fifteen minutes away by car."
And definitely not for the first time today, Hattori promptly froze where he stood. Hakuba had clearly, and understandably, not listened to any word he had said, and was instead leaning over the car.
Curiosity drew Conan closer, taking him past a grumbling, glowering Hattori and closer to the blonde detective. And in the driving seat, he saw, was the lady he had approached before.
She was on the older side, her hair all greyed out with age, sharp features and a similarly sharp gaze. But peering in a little closer, it was easy to find a little bit of warmth, seeping through surprisingly bland corners as he regarded him. Not dissimilar to a mother looking down at her beloved son, in a way immensely worried, but absolutely proud all the same.
"Do tell them that a murder has happened," Hakuba said. His voice, too, felt softer to his ears softer than the curt formality he was used to, anyway. "And to please get here as soon as possible."
How interesting, thought the boy, finding himself unable to look away. Appearance-wise, they don't even look remotely similar. There was no way they were related especially not with the way she regarded her, politely enough to suggest a work relationship. But it was as if that didn't matter, which made Conan suspect of a much stronger, deeper connection than that.
The idea fluttered all over his mind, circling twice before nestling on the back of his head. Not quite leaving, but choosing to take the backseat for the time being.
Something shifted suddenly, drawing Conan's attention to the backseat. Blue met sharp scarlet red, and there it remained as if transfixed in a spell he could not break away from, his breath stolen away as they simply stared at one another.
None of them moved, none of them said a word. Just stared.
Dimly, Conan realized he had met that woman at least once before. And she's just as creepy as the last time I saw her, he thought, fighting against the urge to wince at the cold felt of his own sweat rolling down his forehead.
"I understand. I will be as quick as I can," the woman finally said, nodding solemnly at the teenager. "Little boy?"
Valiant as it was, his effort was for naught. He knew he had jumped when the old lady's features softened to allow a little smile.
"Please take care of Saguru-botchama in my stead."
Conan faltered, blinking twice before he could find his words again. "You realize I'm only eight, right?"
"Why, but I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you," she said, and before he could fully process it, she added, "No one is ever too young to make a meaningful difference when it truly counts."
Hakuba didn't even look fazed at what she was saying even Hattori had the grace to look a little confused, even though the distance he was putting in between the two of them made it hard to tell. Of course, Conan didn't get to react on time, only managing a pathetic, stupid-sounding little sound of agreement before she drove away, taking everything the questions, the embarrassment, surprise and the red-eyed intent gaze with her.
And for a while, it was silent. Conan watched the car growing smaller as the distance increased, the weight of his own thoughts heavy on the air around him.
Hattori stubbornly kept his distance, glaring from a little further away. But Hakuba ignored that spectacularly, a polite, bright smile crossing his face in seconds.
"The police should be here in about thirty-two minutes, I believe," he said. "In the meantime, shall any of you lead the way?"
"Oh, sure!" Freshly jolted out of his thoughts, Conan promptly started his way. Away from the road, he disappeared behind a hustle of trees within seconds. "This way!"
Hattori granted him with one long look, before sticking his hands into his green jacket pockets and brushing right past him without a single word. Instead of giving him an ounce of acknowledgement, Hakuba simply let it slide and, just like the other two detectives before him, he dove right in. Hattori's glare intensified, however, making him wonder if he had wanted a reaction out of him, after all.
Regardless, he continued, letting his senses sharpen as he made his way deeper into the woods since he knew, like the experienced detective he was, how important it was to watch, to observe. Not to lose sight of any single detail, as insignificant as it may look at first glance, lest he wanted the truth to remain obscured forever.
That being said, he found nothing of utmost importance to be remarked. Even as he walked shoulder to shoulder with a reluctant Hattori, the child wandering a few steps ahead, bouncing a little on his step as if ignorant of what he would find in a moment's worth, he could not help the feeling that it was quiet perhaps a little too quiet, silence growing heavier with every step they took, deeper and away, but closer.
In the distance, Hakuba thought he heard the cry of a crow.
Another step further and the air had grown even thicker with the unmistakable, metallic scent of blood. But there was absolutely nothing out there, nothing yet to be seen, so he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus.
"It's such a surprise to see you both around," he said, a part of him hoping that a small conversation would help alleviate the tension somehow. "How did you get this far into the woods?"
"We were stranded," replied Conan, his cute little smile reduced to smithereens as he shot one nasty glare over his shoulder. It ducked him, easily finding its target at his right instead. "Thanks to a certain someone who seemingly lacks the ability to prepare two seconds ahead of the present."
"Really?" Hattori huffed. "Whose fault is that?"
"Why would it be mine?"
But Conan didn't wait for an answer, instead drowning a scowl with a sigh as he looked back ahead. His arms crossed behind his head, it was easy to fall for the illusion of a nonchalant young boy without a single care of the world, but for Hakuba, the bite on his voice gave him away.
"Hattori's bike ran out of fuel," he explained. "And as you may have been able to see, there's no service to call for help."
"Therefore, you ran into our car?" Hakuba questioned, fighting down a smirk.
"It worked, didn't it?" Conan shrugged. "I really needed someone to stop by."
Even if he needed to go by unorthodox and potentially mortal methods to do so, this boy would make certain that justice ran its course, Hakuba mussed and tried not to think about the wave of déjà vu that suddenly washed over him. It was not the time, not now.
"Well, with no service and being this far from civilization, we were in serious need of someone who may lend us a hand." He stopped right in his tracks. "And we thought we had finally found it."
Raising his head, Hakuba found that the massive sea of trees had finally parted, giving way to a peculiar wooden cabin tucked in between at the end of the road. It was well there in years, it appeared after a closer look moss clinging to the roof and walls that, beaten by years of rain and neglect, barely seemed able to stand by themselves without a miracle happening anytime soon. Or some sort of well-needed maintenance routine, probably.
"It appears that nobody has been there in decades," Hakuba observed, taking a tentative step closer to the entrance.
He leaned in, trying to peek inside through the windows, but as he later found out, the curtains ragged down by use and disuse for who knows how long stood in his way. Someone had pulled them down, but rather than a coincidence, could it have been on purpose? He sure wouldn't know.
"That's what we thought, too. But look over here," Hattori said, pointing at the shiny lock on the wooden age-beaten door. "The lock on the door looks relatively new in comparison. Same goes for the windows."
Hakuba took a moment to let that settle in. "It's hard to believe that someone would be willing to live in such conditions," he said, and paused to ponder about it a second further. "But it's clearly been used recently… Maybe they had another use for it? Such as a hiding spot, or even a secret meeting spot, for example."
Conan nodded at him, his eyes narrowed in a way that indicated that he had thought of that theory before. "It's strange, though…" he murmured.
"Strange how?"
"I mean…" Without further ado, he cracked the door open. "It was unlocked when we found it."
Suddenly, Hakuba was violently attacked by the smell metallic and rancid, stronger than the subtle waft he had thought to sense earlier. It threatened to overpower his senses before he could even conjure a coherent thought, let alone a sensible observation of the crime scene he was slowly being led to. Holding his breath, the detective stepped in, the wooden floor creaking under their feet as they made their way deeper.
"Getting stranded in the woods, finding a spooky cabin with a dead body inside," Hattori muttered under his breath. "Feels like a bad horror movie."
"Idiot." Conan rolled his eyes. "Horror movies don't have detectives."
"Well, it doesn't sound like you have seen enough of them."
Hakuba stopped in his tracks, their conversation falling into deaf ears as his eyes grew slightly wider, taking his first look at the crime scene.
There was a chair knocked on its side, ropes dangling loosely, unbothered by the grotesque scene in front of them. A man in his early fifties lay on his back in a pool of dark, dried blood Caucasian, he noted at first glance, golden locks of hair sprawled all around after what he assumed to be a violent struggle, bloodshot, dull green eyes staring emptily above him.
"Looks like he's been held captive for some time," Conan clarified, making not a single move as Hakuba threaded closer. There was no doubt in his mind he had done the same himself. "We don't know the motives yet, but…"
Conan fell oddly silent, averting his gaze like he rarely ever did. Hakuba could see why, taking a closer look to find that the knife was still in there stuck in the middle of the victim's chest, and though he couldn't quite tell yet how many stab wounds the body had, he could at least know there were multiple.
Whatever it had been, it looked like a personal vendetta.
Hattori kneeled down next to him, for once disregarding his presence in favor of taking one long look at the body. He frowned, finding the sight absolutely puzzling.
"What's up with his hands?" he muttered. "Looks like he's makin' some kinda weird sign."
He wasn't wrong Hakuba had found it extremely peculiar, if slightly disconcerting at the same time. Had it been positioned by the murderer to leave a message of some kind, or had the victim himself done so in his last breath of hope, Hakuba wouldn't know. But his fingers were positioned to shape a rectangle, of all things.
Index fingers pressed to the thumb of the opposite hand, serving as a makeshift frame for the knife that stuck in the middle, tragically cutting this man's life short.
Conan remained silent the entire time, though the echo of his thoughts resounded through as he moved away. Swiftly, quietly, as if he had never been there to begin with.
Hakuba, for his part, could not help but stare at the sunken, pale face of this poor man. Frowning profusely, he struggled, and failed, to get rid of the unsettling feeling that had taken hold of his mind and refused to leave him alone for this second.
This man felt strangely familiar somehow. But he couldn't quite place where he had seen him.
"I wonder what he meant to say," Hattori murmured, leaning over for a closer look. "He clearly isn't Japanese, so maybe he's American… Wait, no, European."
"German, most likely."
Conan wasn't with them, he had wandered away without their notice at some point unsurprisingly, Hattori dared to say. He had found a small old, rusty table at the corner of the room, and climbed onto the chair to lean further to study, he would assume, whatever had been there, left behind by either the culprit or the criminal.
The boy spun around, allowing them to see a generic wallet. It lay wide open in diminutive hands that could barely hold it properly, for Conan's eyes to squint and scan, flickering back and forth behind thick glasses.
"It was here, on the table," Conan explained, never once letting his gaze stray away from the potential piece of evidence he had just acquired. "I thought I could find an ID, or anything we could identify the victim with…"
"But the culprit must have taken everything away," Hakuba concluded.
The boy nodded, his brow furrowed with thought. "But they left this."
And like so, Hattori plucked it out from the boy's stretched grasp. Much to his utter surprise, he found a photograph inside the wallet, slightly warped and creased along the borders. It depicted what seemed to be a young boy, his sunny smile barely visible even though his face had been violently scratched out. By a knife, he would assume, casting a side-eyed glance towards the body, laying cold and still in the middle of the room.
Conan's expression remained somber as he waited patiently for his reaction. Hakuba barely said anything either, but the hitch in his breathing told Hattori that, maybe, he wasn't all alone as he had first thought.
"This…" Hattori let out a shaky breath, only now realizing it. His hand was trembling, too. "This is…"
What a disturbing sight it was, even if it didn't even begin to cover it. For there was something else, above the jagged scars of rage, scrawled all over what his bewildered eyes could see in black, thick, dare he say angry, letters.
As if crying, as if screaming at his rapidly paling face, at the world outside themselves, for every soul to hear.
"RACHE"
Rache, Hattori had to physically force himself to breathe out. The German word for revenge.
"God," he murmured, rubbing at his stinging eyes they did hurt like hell, after all, so maybe blinking from time to time wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Please tell me the criminal isn't another Sherlock Holmes' freak…"
Blinking his eyes open again, however, he found that all the attention of the room was now condensed in his face. And as the sound of sirens finally wafted its way into the old smelly cabin, a sudden epiphany hit him with the force of an elephant stampede, knocked him over and left him reeling by the impact.
Sometimes, being the center of attention wasn't the greatest thing ever.
In retrospect, maybe Conan shouldn't have risked his integrity to get the police here. Not that he was telling anyone that, especially not Hattori he'd rather lose a limb than admit he may have been right, it hadn't been worth it but he couldn't deny they could've done better completely on their own.
To be honest, Conan had sort of expected Inspector Yokomizo Juugo to be in charge of this case. While not his primary choice, he was someone he'd worked with from time to time and, therefore, he had learned to deal with. Granted, he would not be overjoyed to see him, a little kid, floundering about a dead body, but that was the usual. He knew he would get through him, sooner or later.
And besides, he was surprisingly capable though that could also be his standards for competence being ridiculously low thanks to a certain someone he'd rather pretend wasn't in Gunma right now, flashing his inspector badge around to prove how laughable Japan's justice system turned out to be.
The criminal could still be around, had been his reasoning back then. If that was so, he needed help he needed to catch it, lest he wanted to escape and would never find out what…
Desperate like that, he had thrown himself in front of the first car he had seen.
Clearly, he hadn't used up a single, miserable second to think it through. Let alone remember that, sure, the one assigned for this case could have been Yokomizo, but he wasn't the only inspector in all Kanagawa. And what had he got in the end? A nameless generic inspector whose name he hadn't bothered to remember. One that had rolled his eyes at the mere insinuation of two teenagers and a literal child fooling around the crime scene.
Needless to say, they had been kindly asked to leave. Kindly, that was, until the inspector suddenly noticed he wasn't standing behind Hattori as he'd first thought and instead was more than ready to stick a chubby little finger on the body's open wound. Next thing he knew, he'd been thrust into Hattori arms and the door had been slammed shut on their back.
Rude.
As it later turned out to be, it so happened that Hakuba was heading for Enoshima as well. What a strange coincidence not only that their destination was the same but also that they had run into each other that way, Conan had thought then…
For about ten seconds at most. The idea slipped away with ease as he sank back onto the backseat, an immeasurable amount of relief seeping through the weary soul of a brave adventurer who wanted nothing but to take a deep breath, and not to worry about tripping in yet another corpse in his next exhalation.
Hattori had barely been able to contain himself when he realized what was going to happen and certainly not in a good way. But whatever, Conan thought, he was a free man. If he wanted to undertake a grand journey for who-knows-how many hours in search of civilization, Conan wasn't going to stop him.
He didn't go through it, though, as Conan had figured. Like so, they started off their journey in silence.
And for the hours to come, it remained like that. Silent, maybe a bit too silent. Come to this point, he was almost tempted to simply walk back to the hotel on his own almost.
A page being flipped resounded all over, followed by the soft, almost timid scratching of pen against paper. The girl at his side continued to write, perpetually cold, scarlet gaze fixed on the notes in her lap.
What could she be writing? Curious, he leaned closer, peering in the wall of text that she'd oh-so-carefully crafted, painting the pages a canvas, a string of beautiful cursive for each stroke of a brush.
Every once in a while, however, she would circle a letter, then continue counting. Oh, isn't the code from…? he thought, sort of taken aback. I see, so she is the one working on it…
What does it say? He stretched his neck, straining his eyes to read at such an odd angle. Is it legible yet? Or is it-
The hand suddenly stopped, and so did he. Slowly, he raised his gaze to find that she had finally gotten her attention away from her notes so that she could glance at him.
And do nothing at all, just to stare with eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul.
A nervous laughter bubbled up from Conan's throat as he sat straighter.
"Akako-san, am I wrong?" he strained out, cheerfully bright. "You might not remember me, but, uh, I thought we met once or twice? At KID's heist?"
She simply stared at him. Never did he figure out if she'd ever looked away, for he did not risk a glance in that direction. Ever again.
"So, Hakuba-san," he tried instead. From the passenger seat, Hakuba perked up instantly, glancing over his shoulder to show he was listening. "Why are you going to Enoshima? Didn't you have school today?"
Hattori decidedly kept his attention to the window, as if there was something absolutely intriguing about the set of buildings and trees he'd been looking at for the past hour or so. Suit himself.
"A friend of ours is in trouble and we're on our way to help," Hakuba answered. Conan raised his head sharply, mouth open and ready to talk, when the detective turned to the old lady behind the wheel. "Please go right around the next turn. We should be arriving at their hotel in about five minutes."
Hattori's head turned to look at him so quickly that it was a miracle he didn't snap a vertebra.
"Our hotel?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows.
Conan's eyes, once lit with expectation and curiosity, dulled considerably.
"There's literally one hotel on this island," he pointed out blandly. "One with places available on such short notice and within the economic reach of a measly high school student, anyway."
"Again, I'd like to know whose fault it is!"
Hakuba snickered. "I'm sure you must have been in a hurry," he said, barely able to contain the amusement in his tone.
His fellow teenage detective bristled. "What do you know?"
"Oh, I apologize, then." In response, Hakuba even had the nerve to look confused. Apologetic, even. "I didn't realize wearing one's jacket inside out was trendy nowadays."
Instinctively, and looking all the same as someone who'd been bitten by a mosquito, his hand jumped to slap the back of his neck. A groan escaped him next at the distinct felt of a clothes tag, and Conan barely suppressed the urge to do the same.
He simply leaned back, wishing for the lost precious silence back.
The car had barely stopped when Hattori jumped out and headed in first, claiming that he was going to check them in the hotel. Not that Conan minded that much, of course that he wanted all that done with as soon as possible, but he wasn't stupid. It was clear as day that this hadn't been brought out by the kindness of his heart, but by a desperate need not to breathe in the same air as Hakuba any longer.
Besides, who was he to blame him? Especially when…
Hesitantly, Conan stopped a few steps after getting to the lobby. As expected, he found red, piercing through the window to reach him. He shivered and determinedly looked away. More than ever, he was ready to leave.
"Before you go, Edogawa-kun."
But of course, Hakuba had better ideas. He had followed him all the way here, it seemed, walking just a little behind him but enough for Hattori, all the way from the reception desk, to throw back his head at the sight.
Maybe Hakuba didn't want him to get kidnapped, or something, while nobody was looking out for him? That would be nice, Conan wouldn't lie.
"I didn't get to ask you what your reason for visiting Enoshima is."
He was saying it so casually, his shoulders relaxed as if he was simply making up some conversation, that Conan had almost been willing to overlook the signs.
"Knowing you, I'd guess you're chasing some clue you've found, or you're investigating some kind of crime..."
The narrowed eyes, sharp and ready to detect the lies he may utter. The way he angled his body so that he covered the door, and with that, the only escape exit. Lips pressed, as if physically incapable of stopping themselves to ask for more information, more details, more everything and anything.
"I wouldn't mind assisting you, if you'd have me."
He was on a hunt for something. Something he was desperate to find, but at the same time, he could not locate. Truth to be told, Conan would tell him in a heartbeat, trust his judgement and deductive abilities to ease his worries and improve his chances of solving whatever puzzle he was facing…
Except there was no prey in here. Only a bush, moving with the gentle breeze of misdirection, and no living beings seeking refuge beneath.
"It's nothing like that," Conan replied. He glanced over to Hattori, a small but genuine smile growing on his face. "I'm just helping him out."
Hakuba said nothing in response, and instead, merely looked down at him. His face had now hardened around his smile, tightening and tightening the skin until it was practically solidified on his face.
But Conan wasn't looking at him. He didn't need to know what he wanted to know, what he was desperately hunting for, was something else altogether.
"Say, about the friend you mentioned earlier," Conan began. Hakuba blinked back to normal, so that he could pay attention. "Do I know them?"
"You do," he said. The boy twitched. "Nakamori-san, she-"
"Is Arthur-niichan with her, by any chance?"
That had been too sudden for him to fully acknowledge he had talked at all. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember when he had spun on his heels, but he knew it had happened because he was now waiting for his input, enormous eyes dazzling with hope peering up at him.
It was bright, almost too bright. Unbearable, even, to look at.
His head dipped slightly, forced to admit, "I haven't seen him around lately."
And while slow, his reaction had been nothing short of dramatic. "Oh." His face crumbled down in an instant, shoulders deflating in a drawn-out sigh, as if he had somehow expected such a response.
Conan faltered for a bit, his eyes flickering from side to side in a manner that, to anyone else, he'd have attributed to awkwardness, a nervous tic of some kind or a way to desperately avoid eye-contact.
But, since it was this boy in particular, it felt different. It was not unlike a computer, rapidly processing and compiling large strings of information with the sole purpose of getting to the right answer. Though Hakuba was inclined to believe he did not have much to go by, the frown that crossed his features only straightened that theory.
He doesn't know that the reason Koizumi-san and I came here is… Even in the privacy of his own thoughts, he faltered. Not that he knew for sure why he even bothered, as if he was afraid of this overly perceptive young one listening to it somehow.
Even though he knew how illogical, how silly of him it would be for him to do so, he could not really help it.
But… would it be the right step to make? He had come to recognize, ever since their first meeting in that Sunset Manor back in the day, that this boy was different from anyone of that age he'd ever met. From the way he talked and processed reality as a whole he was quick-witted, brilliant and effective, and even though he had yet a lot to experience and grow, it was clear.
Edogawa Conan-kun was an incredible detective on his own, among the best Hakuba had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Only that right now, he seemed to be missing information precious information that he had, in his own two hands.
What he had heard over the phone; the ragged breathing, the pain and the static. For the sake of justice, it may be advisable no, mandatory to seek his help. No doubt, his insight may prove extremely valuable in finding out what had happened to Shinichi.
In finding him, or rather, what remained of him.
Conan was still staring at him. It fell on Hakuba that he looked especially young like this, blinking innocent eyes up at him like the lost child he appeared he was supposed to be.
Soon, surprise colored every bit of his expression, followed by an overpowering sense of bewilderment as he came to realize that a hand had fallen on top of his head, and that Hakuba was smiling down at him rather gently.
It had been brief, cut short well before it hit the second mark when the teenager awkwardly took it back to slide it into his pockets. But Conan knew it had happened, even if a part of him still refused to believe it, his own little hand caressing the top of his own head as if to find proof of the contrary.
"I will be taking my leave," Hakuba said, already turning to leave. "Do not hesitate to contact me if you need any assistance."
It took Conan a little while longer to understand what was being said, but even so, the mere idea still managed to steal a bark of laughter out of him.
"I don't think Hattori would appreciate any kind of help, you know."
Hakuba only smirked in response, and without further ado, walked out and into the street. Conan simply stood there for a while, watching through the glass door as he hopped into the car and, before long, disappeared into the distance. Leaving him all alone in a room full of people and several dozen unanswered questions.
Without really thinking about it, he let his hands slide into his pockets. Fingers played around with the phone hidden within, absently turning it back and forth as if to instigate further his thought process.
"What's with him?"
In a violent, sudden jump, Conan found himself face to face with a certain detective he happened to know. Rolling his eyes, he didn't bother to ask how long he had been standing there, and simply yanked him from his green jacket, dragging him in his stead.
Not that Conan actually knew which room they had been assigned to, but getting him to the elevator was a good start.
It didn't take them too long to find their room small and cozy, two beds and a huge crystal window that gave way to the ocean for their eyes to delight at.
How nice it would have been to have a well-deserved respite for the shenanigans life seemed to adore putting in his way. If only he could simply sink back on a comfortable bed, and lose track of time watching the waves standing high and menacingly, only to subdue towards the end of their journey to gently caress the shore and crawl back to try again.
But right now, all he could do was fling his bag onto his bed. Hattori had barely taken his jacket off when he basically ripped it from his hands, spreading it all over his mattress to take a closer, better look.
And frown profusely. The dried blood had obviously not disappeared yet and instead was spread all over the front of the jacket, a telltale of a horrible nightmare they could not even begin to comprehend yet.
"I swear you're getting me in prison one of these days," Hattori said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if in horrible pain. "Takin' evidence out of a crime scene, just like that."
Conan simply hummed noncommittally, Hattori's words lost somewhere in the void of his own thoughts as his fingers carefully traced the bloodstains. What a horrible find that had been, was all he could think about and it had been simply hanging in there, posed in a nearby chair next to the body as if somebody had simply forgotten it there.
Bright green caked with the blood of an innocent person. He wished he could say it meant nothing to him.
"So you… just found it lyin' around?" Hattori tried. He got nothing in return. "Hey, if you're just going to pull me aside, tell me to put this on specifically inside out before running out to get help, I think at the very least deserve an explanation."
Finally, Conan let out an exhausted sigh. "You did it in East Okuho once." Little fingers found themselves digging into the jacket's pockets as he said, "I figured you wouldn't mind doing it again."
"East Okuho?" Hattori crossed his arms, thinking about it for a moment before it finally clicked. "Oh, you mean that Shiragami case? The one where Kudo was framed and…"
He trailed down into silence, his words leaving him when the confusion overcame him. The kid had simply pulled something out of the jacket pocket to stare at. His frown deepened if possible, and before Hattori could even ask anything, he had already passed it to him.
In his hands was now a Tropical Land ticket. The date was from almost two years ago now, and seeing the troubled expression this boy was making, there was no denying that that had been that one night.
Hattori's eyes widened dramatically, his words failing him before he could even figure out what he should say right now.
It had to be that one night, when Kudo had disappeared for the first time.
Conan, however, had not waited for him to get a hold of himself. He had simply sat back on the bed, dragging the jacket closer to him. Finding comfort, and distress in equal parts, at the realization that there was no mistaking this it had mostly faded out at this point, but it still had his brother's unmistakable scent.
He hugged it closer, allowing his eyelids to close as if it would somehow help him delude himself, convince himself that he was still there. Right at his side, and not… wherever he might have vanished to right now.
Once he got a hold of him, he swore not for the first time, he'd have to hear him out. And Ran-neechan she definitely had a thing or two to say, and if not, her fists would do the talking. And what would Conan do then? Well, call an ambulance, and next? Record it, every single part of it, so that he could forward it to him next time this happened. As a gentle reminder.
But first, you have to pick up the phone. You idiot.
He buried his face into the jacket he was losing track of it, overpowered by another strange smell. Distinctively bitter, herbal in nature, he couldn't quite place what it was exactly but it reminded him of sage. Or maybe wormwood.
All the while, Hattori watched without saying a single word. Suddenly feeling like an intruder in the very same room he had rented, he avoided his gaze and found the outside world again.
That was when a scream brought them back to reality, to stare at each other in alarm. It sounded from real close, they realized in unison, and before they could even react, another came,
"What are you doing?! Stop it!"
They had both bolted out of the room before it had even ended, and sure enough, they found the reason instantly. Right at the end of their hallway, they saw a group of uniformed men police officers, walking in a row in front of their room to reach the stairs, the cries of a young girl echoing all over the place.
"Like I said, I've got nothing to do with this! So let me go right now, or else-"
It didn't deter them in the slightest, and eventually, the mass parted to allow him to see a high school-aged, messy-haired auburn girl struggling against the grip of a particularly buff police officer. She looked absolutely furious, glaring daggers at everyone that dared to lay a hand on her and…
Conan paused, staring a bit longer until it finally fell on
Is… Is that… Conan scrubbed at his eyes, and the image didn't leave. He gasped, still skeptical despite the obvious. No way, no way it's actually-
"You're under arrest for the murder of Tsukamoto Masato. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Wha-? Court of law?!"
A figure dashed right past their door, crossing the distance in a single heartbeat. In a face that showed almost no emotion, Conan saw for maybe the first time that raw and pure desperation that only came in certain circumstances with the right people, from time to time.
"Aoko!" he screamed, loud as if unafraid to lose his voice, standing on their way as if he could do anything to help. "Leave her alone! You have no evidence!"
But the man remained dutifully serious, raising a bag of evidence for him to see. "I believe we do," he simply said.
For a while, time seemed to stand still two teenagers, staring at a plastic back as if they had never seen something alike in their entire lives. The girl's eyes widened dramatically, as if to take into it better, before a shadow of something passed behind them.
Her head hung low, and his hand stretched forward, closer to her.
It never made contact. Shocked, the boy watched as the girl simply turned her head away, as if the mere idea of eye contact shook her to the core. Frozen he remained, as they walked around him, and having finally fallen silent, the girl was quietly taken away by the police.
And so, the boy stared for a single beat of heart that had forgotten its own existence. But at the next, his teeth were gritted to one another, her name clung to her throat on a muted scream and a desperate need to reach.
But something tugged at his shirt, keeping him from moving an inch from his spot. He turned fully, eyes flashing until they found that there were little fingers holding onto him.
"Hold on, Kuroba-niichan."
And a bright, but sharp blue narrowed behind thick lenses had his breath taken away. A small boy was standing in front of him, and offered a quiet nod. Firm and precise, but his grip was gentle. If he wanted to, Kaito could probably free himself easily enough and chase after Aoko like every fiber of his being was telling him to.
"If you want to help Aoko-neechan, then you'd better stay put for a while."
But he didn't.
"Start talking. What the hell is going on?"
A/N
So… it's February already? Time does fly, huh? xD
I haven't been updating for a while, so sorry about that. Hopefully, the next one won't take that long.
BT
Sorry for the late reply, but I finally watched movie 27. And I must admit, I didn't expect to enjoy it this much! Hattori being all confused with Shinichi and Kaito looking the same was so funny, and Nakamori being shot was saddening. But at least we finally get to see Aoko! I loved seeing her interact with Conan, it was so cute!
The only complaint I have is that they didn't include that male version for Kimi no Ireba in the movie. But all in all, that's only a detail. It was an amazing movie for me.
CherryGirl 21-6
Thank you! I hope you had a Happy New Year as well :)
And yes, I have decided I'm eventually covering movie 26 in this fic! It'd be quite a while until then, as it's probably going to be the last case before I get to wrapping the story for good. But it's going to happen at some point. If I live that long, that's it, lol (joking)