Chapter 37: The Other Shinichi

Because of COURSE there's not enough angst already, I have decided to write an entire chapter from the clone's point of view. I have done my utmost best to keep things from being too confusing, but I'm not sure how well I've managed to do that. Also, there's a strikethrough word near the end of the chapter that might look weird since this site's editor doesn't support strikethrough text.

Being Shinichi was, according to some, a daunting experience—such people typically couldn't keep up with him intellectually, and the ones that could had very different interests. Those people usually weren't too interested in interacting with Shinichi, and vice versa. Life hadn't been dull, per say, nor lonely, exactly, but those words sat just a step to the left of his existence—before Tropical Land, anyway.

Being Shinichi's clone, however—that was lonely. He'd woken up thinking things had somehow been fixed, only to learn that his own body didn't even belong to him. His friends weren't his friends, and—perhaps worst of all—because he woke up, Ran didn't exist.

He'd only ever wanted to keep Ran safe, but now his very existence was a threat to hers.

Finding that out—being shown the proof of it—that blow had been devastating. He spent his days feeling cold and hollow, a pain in his chest that was purely psychological but no less excruciating.

He couldn't even wallow in his own self-destructive way, since that would hurt Ran even more than he was already hurting her.

So he went to work, mostly in the hopes that being busy could keep the guilt at bay.

He never imagined he would ever feel guilty for just existing. He tried not to be too resentful about that—and failed miserably.

The amount of work he was allowed to do wasn't nearly enough to escape from the sensation of drowning, but it was something to keep his mind at least semi-occupied.

Then the… original Shinichi… handed him that damned phone, and all at once the drowning came back, and he seethed with jealousy. It ate at him all night as he stared up at the ceiling, pretending sleep would come claim him.

He stared at it, now, long after the farce that had been breakfast, sitting innocently on the desk. Taunting him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to unlock it; it was his phone, but it wasn't, and he hated that. He couldn't stay too upset for very long, though, as a throb of pain pressed against the back of his head, causing lights to dance in front of his eyes and scattering his thoughts.

It wasn't nearly as bad as when he'd first woken up in the hospital, the fracture being much fresher, but it still rattled him. This injury… was the reason Ran was asleep. It was the only reason he or anyone else was aware of his existence in the first place.

He wished he'd stayed asleep. Stayed unaware of the nightmare he'd been thrust into.

Biting back a sigh, he waited by the desk as Shinichi got what he needed from the software's coding. Heiji had already confirmed he could bring up the professor's camera footage from Shinichi's laptop. The clone, himself, would be working with the main computer they'd initially been using, and his original… More than likely, he'd be using one of the many new computers that hadn't been in the house before the clone woke up.

For the FBI agent Shinichi apparently knew.

He never explained when that happened.

Not-Shinichi wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, considering his life wasn't even his. What would he even do with that information? He couldn't use it in the future, since… well. Since he probably wouldn't exist in the future.

A shudder ran down his spine, cold clawing its way into his chest, but he simply closed his eyes and tried to wait the feeling out. His breath hitched in his chest—inaudibly, thankfully—as he wrestled with his feelings on the matter. It was better if no one noticed, since he didn't think he could answer any questions regarding that particular train of thought. Not without a massive break down, at any rate.

Thankfully, he was snapped out of those thoughts as the little him hopped out of the computer chair, excusing himself to take care of the last portion of footage. Shinichi sent the clone a long glance before he left the room, which Not-Shinichi figured was an unvoiced hesitancy over what footage he would actually be looking at.

He sat down, pointedly ignoring the phone looking innocently up at him, and pulled up two separate windows from Kid's program: one to look at cars for Ran's case and one to search Gin's car. He paused, curiosity tugging at his attention, and turned to look at Heiji who was already focused on the laptop in front of him.

"Hattori."

"Yeah?"

"… Do you know anything about an FBI agent?"

"Which one?" he asked without looking up. Not-Shinichi opened his mouth only to close it again with a frown.

"He knows more than one?"

"Yeah, he knows a few. I've even met two of 'em—Jodie-sensei, and that Andre Camel guy with the scary face." He looked up from the computer. "There's two more he mentioned, but I'm pretty sure one of 'em died a couple'a months ago."

That was… pretty interesting, actually.

"Why does he know four FBI agents?" he asked. Heiji grimaced.

"I'm not sure about the other three, but I know Jodie-sensei was undercover as an English teacher at yer school fer a bit. Taught Neechan and her Suzuki friend." Not-Shinichi's mood soured at the reminder that Ran wasn't even here. Heiji continued, unaware of the mood change. "As fer why there's FBI guys in Japan at all, they're here stalkin' yer Guys in Black." That got his attention, previous mood dip forgotten.

"So, was the one he helped with recently also for dealing with the Black Organization?" he asked. Heiji scowled, sending him a very unimpressed look.

"You guys don't tell me shit, y'know?" he said waspishly. "Kudo's pretty tight lipped about what's been happenin' recently, so if ya actually want answers, yer gonna hafta see if he'll give 'em t' you."

The clone grimaced, but opted not to ask anymore. If Shinichi was not forthcoming to Heiji, it meant a life probably hinged on the secret being kept. Otherwise he'd have compromised with a vague explanation that, while not exactly satisfying to the Osakan detective, at least plied him enough to move on to a different topic.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the computer, settling in for however many hours of tracking he could get away with before someone remembered to tell him to take a break.

Which would probably be Ran, if he was—no. No, not Ran. Ran wasn't there.

He closed his eyes against the guilt and grief, waiting for it to abate before going back to his task.

XxX

It was Heiji who snapped him out of his work to take a lunch break.

He made a half-hearted grumble of a protest, but ultimately followed the other teen downstairs, since his body didn't even belong to him.

Allegedly, it belonged to Ran, which was reason enough to make sure he kept it maintained whether his appetite wanted him to or not.

Early on, he'd entertained the idea that the body itself wasn't Ran's, and that whoever had been in charge had put two people's memories in by mistake. That theory was discarded almost immediately—there would have been fail safes in place to prevent that sort of thing form happening, especially since these people were operating for at least twenty years with no one noticing.

That being said, something must have happened, some sort of malfunction no one noticed, for Ran to have retained what was obviously meant to be erased.

And in order to retain those memories, she had to have been there first. And if she was there first, then the body that looked so much like his must have been hers. Must have been born, grown, raised to be her before being snatched away and rudely changed into something she wasn't.

A ball of ice formed in his chest as he tried to swallow around the golf ball sized lump in his throat.

He was an interloper in his own home, in his own body, and he found he couldn't even be angry about it. He was upset and bitter and jealous and tired, but not angry.

Arriving in the kitchen revealed the stranger living in his house. Subaru Okiya, if he remembered correctly. The man was overly polite, if a little off-putting, but now the clone had an idea forming in the back of his head. It was just an inkling, really, but after the conversation with Heiji, some puzzle pieces were beginning to click into place.

The original Shinichi knew several FBI agents, and one of them allegedly died. Per his own admission, the hidden cameras in the front of the house and the living room were for helping with "the cover of an FBI agent"—something Heiji hadn't been told, which meant something like a life-or-death sensitivity when it came to what sort of information Shinichi typically allowed to get out to others.

It was highly probable, then, that this man was an undercover agent—more than likely having faked his death. And since he was living here… then Shinichi had likely either helped with the faking of that death, helped with the making of a new identity, or both. It was most likely the second one, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if it was actually both.

He glanced first at Heiji, then at the smaller version of him. If Heiji didn't know, the other him wouldn't take too kindly to him bringing it up, so he filed away the information for later speculation. He turned back to find the man quietly studying him, covert enough to not attract the attention of the other two. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end under the scrutiny.

Subaru smiled at him, and instantly he knew the man knew that he'd deduced why he was there.

He wasn't entirely sure it counted as an identity reveal, since he had no clue who Subaru was actually supposed to be.

Whoever he was, that sharp intellect was rather terrifying—and now he kind of knew what his criminals must have felt when he found them out.

The man said nothing, just handed him a plate and left the room. He looked down. Cold tofu?

"That guy gives me the creeps," groused Heiji once Subaru was out of ear shot.

"If it makes you feel better, he gives Haibara the creeps, too," came the unbothered reply. Heiji huffed as he dug into his own plate of what looked like curry.

"Dunno how you can stand him."

"He's a Holmes fan."

"He is?" asked the clone, eyebrows rising in surprise. Heiji just rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Of course he is," he sighed.

Not-Shinichi looked thoughtfully back down at his plate… Okay, maybe the guy wasn't that terrifying, after all.

xXx

Not-Shinichi sighed into the sink. He'd been the last to finish lunch, the other two teens eager to continue their respective searches. Heiji, unsurprisingly, had been the first to finish, wolfing down his meal with a gusto that surely rivaled a comic book character's. The other Shinichi finished not long after, having only downed half of his food—cold tofu, just like Not-Shinichi. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Not-Shinichi had forced himself to eat all of his food, for Ran's sake. It was slow, and while the cold blandness was somewhat soothing to his agitated stomach, he sorely wished he had the luxury of skipping his meals altogether.

He'd wanted to talk to Subaru—if he really was an FBI agent, and the FBI was here for the Black Organization, then perhaps he could enlighten him on a few things. He couldn't really ask Heiji, and while he could ask Shinichi, being around himself was acutely uncomfortable in a way he couldn't really explain.

Unfortunately, the man had disappeared during lunch, and he didn't know enough about him to guess where he might have gone. He supposed he could technically search every room, but. Well. He didn't really feel like doing that. And since the information was already known by the other Shinichi, his questions weren't exactly urgent.

He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked up and stared into the tired, sunken eyes of his reflection in the mirror. Stared at his face. His cheeks, his nose, his chin. The person in the mirror was undoubtedly Kudo Shinichi.

He had never felt so detached from his own reflection, even as Edogawa Conan.

His fingers were numb as he gripped the sides of the sink, knuckles white from the force of it.

He stared hard, searching for any sign of Ran. Searching for clues that weren't visible.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he stared into his own eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and the relief that flooded him as he turned away from the reflection made guilt settle in his gut like an icy stone. He shoved the feeling away and looked at the call screen before answering.

"Haibara?"

"Grab Kudo-kun and get over here—I've got another test to run." The line went dead.

He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, letting his hand drop to his side. He stared at the floor for a few seconds, breathing steadily in a forced rhythm before letting out a dry, mirthless chuckle.

He was Shinichi. He was Shinichi, but he wasn't. It wasn't fair.

Making sure to keep his eyes from straying to the mirror, he went to find the original Shinichi.

As he suspected, he found him in that accursed computer room, flipping through the new footage with a quick efficiency only organized desperation could provide. He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms, observing the small tells that this Shinichi had experienced more than him. The nervous tick to his jaw, the subconscious tension in his shoulders, the tired paranoia in his eyes—proof that he'd lived through so much more that the clone had not, regardless of the fact that he was only missing time for about six months.

It painted a dreadful picture. One that had little hope for the future—just enough to keep him pushing through the despair, but not enough to keep his head above the waves.

He hated it.

"Forget to charge your phone?" he said instead of knocking. For whatever it was worth, Shinichi didn't flinch. The clone watched numbly as the tension in the boy's shoulders crescendoed—so tight he was worried something might actually snap—but he'd be hard pressed to actually call it flinching.

"I guess I must have," he replied, scrubbing at his eyes in a vain effort to play the not-flinch off as exhaustion. Not-Shinichi obliged by not mentioning it, and they both knew it. "Why?"

"Haibara called—she needs both of us for another test."

"Did she say what it was specifically?" asked Shinichi as he pushed away from the desk and hopped out of the chair. They both began the short trek to the front door.

"No—she hung up after demanding our presence."

"Figures," came the scoffed reply.

As they walked, Not-Shinichi silently debated over whether or not he should bring up his questions about Subaru. Just on the surface, he could tell Shinichi was in no mood to talk about the crows, especially since he seemed to be blaming Ran's current absence on his compulsion to follow after them. He supposed it didn't matter if he got the answers or not—one thing was becoming increasingly clear:

The Black Organization was much more dangerous than he'd initially thought.

He was quiet during the testing—something similar to an EEG, it looked like. Haibara asked questions or made leading statements to get both Shinichis thinking. For the most part, the monitors showed the same brain activity, showcasing the fact that they were the same person. But…

But there were a few instances where the monitors showed very slightly different activity—a sign that something had changed in the way Shinichi thought. It was so slight most people wouldn't even notice it, especially if they weren't looking for it.

Then, there were also those ever-present dark spots where Ran was thought to be sleeping.

Another pang of jealousy hit him as he stared at the spots—thankfully after the testing had been completed. He didn't know what jealousy looked like, but he knew they would realize he wasn't thinking about what he needed to for the scans. While they were unlikely to ask questions, the thought of silent scrutiny wasn't very palatable while his emotions were so raw.

Whatever it was Haibara was looking for in the testing, she wouldn't say. She looked to be in a good mood, though, so the data must have been promising.

Quiet resentment bubbled hot in his chest as he watched the other Shinichi—the original Shinichi—light up with half-forgotten hope as he hovered behind Haibara, much to her irritation.

He left before the resentment could build into something unmanageable. It cooled into bitter resignation the closer he got to his house, and a deep, aching hollowness filled him as another thought hit.

I don't have much time left.

He stumbled into the house, but didn't dare stop—running into anyone, or having Shinichi catch up to him (especially if Shinichi caught up to him), might actually break him. He staggered his way to the abandoned music room, chest painfully tight, where he knew no one would bother him. He didn't allow himself to think, feel, or otherwise process anything until he was safely holed up away from people with the door securely locked tight.

He didn't bother with the light switch; there was more than enough daylight coming through the window to make out the layout of the room. Glassy eyes swept over the dusty instruments and stacked boxes before alighting on that stupid grand piano his mom used to train h̶i̶m̶ Shinichi with. It was tucked away into the far corner of the room (or as tucked away as something so big could be), but most importantly, the open space underneath it offered shelter from the too exposed air that threatened to swallow him.

After double-checking the door was locked, he put his pride aside to crawl underneath the large instrument. It was a tight fit, and his back was sure to complain later, but the relief he got from its cover was worth it. He pressed his back to the wall so he could face the door, and allowed himself to exist.

He didn't know how long he sat there letting his thoughts form properly—several hours, if the pain in his hunched shoulders was anything to go by. If he happened to cry at some point, no one except the other him would suspect anything.

Eventually, the tension in his chest eased up a little—enough to function around people without the threat of breaking, anyway—and the icy cold grip around his heart mellowed into a static numbness he could ignore without much difficulty. During his time ruminating, he steeled his resolve and was left with two terrible certainties:

No matter what happened, he would never see Ran again.

Ran would never be safe unless the Black Organization was completely gone.

Whether they fixed this cloning business or not, if the crows were still out there then Ran's future would be nothing but misery. As long as he was able, with the time he had left, he would track down as many leads as possible. Whether he saw the end of the Black Organization or was only able to leave enough information for the other him to see to their end, he could at least do this.

If he couldn't be with Ran, he could still make damn sure she was safe.