Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

|Polymorphic|

(Random Idea 1)

Five years ago, Kaito made a vow.

He made a vow of mutual agreement, trust, and protection.

Both of them had unnerving parallel lives, living a lie while trying to force the truth and justice that has been obscured in darkness. No matter the cost it would tax from them. Both aiming to defend and seize from opposite sides of each other—even if their end goal was the same, surrounded by the spiked shadowy webs of Their hands.

(He wanted to offer a join of forces, he didn’t have the chance.)

-

He made a vow as the crowd dressed in black dispersed around him one sunny morning, all of them faceless as his eyes would only lay on that piece of cemented tomb, a pair of incense sticks lit and making a steady, soft stream of smoke rise and dissipated.

…

That day had haunted and imprinted itself on his mind, an unforgiving memory that refused to be buried with its source. Always clawing up like a desperate entity that mulled and loomed knowing as if he forgot, he would make the same mistake again.

Any memory of him—would be tainted in that crimson red as it beamed and painted the skies with it’s bright, and angry color. Ruthlessly, and relentlessly consuming everything in its path as it raged on, starved to lick upon soft, fragile flesh. Tainted with a dull tall building caving in on itself, giving in to the destructive machinations of man. Tainted with the loud horrified screams, shrieks of metal and concrete, the shattering glass, and the horrible sound of loud explosions that shook the ground. Tainted with the memory of hearing his voice in a state so out of place—so vulnerable that he wished he never heard it. Tainted with the memory of adrenaline followed by disappointment.

—Tainted with grief, and regret.

Too late…

…

When the last of the crowd disappeared, he and his own group were about to retreat when they come in, and with them came a legacy.

(Disappointment, rage, and pity…)

The moment he laid his eyes on him—that familiar shade of dark, sapphire blues—he knew he wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t.

(Hope, attachment, protective, and promise…)

So, he made a vow on that afternoon as the sun was about to set behind his back, illuminating the grieving family in front of him.

He would protect that legacy.

-

(Though he didn’t actually expect that he would be given a chance to constantly do so.)

…

He made a vow on the detective’s grave.

He swore…

Retribution…

Justice…

Protection…

To never be too late.

(And he damned as hell will make sure that he can keep that promise.)

-

But of course, much like his predecessor, the legacy is as much of a trouble-maker and trouble-magnet.

He’s blaming the detective if any of them got hurt in the process—because it should be illegal for charges to disappear out of blue, and the measly second it took for the boy to pull a disappearing act. It was also so like his detective, and so like himself that Kaito would be proud if he wasn’t too worried and paranoid when his thoughts plummet to the worse of things.

So, here he was; running through the late night streets, with his friends somewhere split up as they all conducted their search for the boy that has been with them for almost five years—not to mention today is…

He shakes his head, he’ll do that later, he needed to find him first.

-

It was only with the last resort of convincing himself to think much like his detective that he finally had a clue to his charge’s whereabouts. And immediately he rushes off to plow after the new lead, not even bothering to stop for a second to inform his friends of this development. No, he was too busy scaling a building to get to the top.

If his deductions and intuition were right, the boy should be there.

And he was. The seven-year-old’s back was turned to him; dark brown hair whipped with the breeze, making it look like a curly mess—but he wouldn’t be Kaito if he couldn’t recognize his charge anywhere.

“There you are…” he breathes. “You had me worried sick…” he doesn’t care if he had practically abandoned all pretense of his Poker Face, sagging in relief.

“Now, that isn’t your script, Kaitou 1412.” Kaito stops just a few steps away from the boy, sure him being Kid wasn’t news to the boy. But the way he spoke tugged at something inside him, something achingly familiar, a feeling associated to—No, that wasn’t possible. So he slams on that hopeful idea and buries it.

“You…” he trails off, uncertain—what could he say in this situation anyway? “Now’s not the time for that, we need to go back now.” Kaito really expected it when the boy ignored him, simply moving to set something down, a can? Did he buy a drink while—not now, Kaito!

“Just… what are you doing?” it almost pained him to say it here, on this night, and almost the same circumstance. Because there was no way he could recreate—

A spark, a lighter? What was he doing with—his breath hitches.

The boy had turned to face him, a familiar pair of spectacles glinting on his face, accompanied by an equally familiar tilt of a smirk and the sharp calculative blue eyes behind those frames.

And Kaito tunes out the wind when his ear latches on to the ever familiar whistling noise. There’s a small explosion of the ever familiar color combination behind the boy. Even if he has only seen such combination once, but his brain short-circuited, once more tunneling to his charge. About to speak, demand—what was he thinking? Why was he doing this?

But the boy beat him to it, his eyes softened losing the sharp edge usually directed on criminals they both put behind bars. The boy smiles.

“Fireworks!”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

 |La Famiglia de la Arachne|

(Random Idea 2)

Kaito stares wondering whether or not he’s still dreaming because there was no way the sight in front of him was true, right?

…

Kaito did not expect he would wake up to his mother suddenly flinging his door wide open—smacking loudly against the wall. Even before Kid he had learned to sleep lightly—especially with his mother, becoming Kid had only intensified that alarm and enhanced his reflexes. He had heard the door opening before it even slammed open. Thus, the moment his mother entered he had flung a lasso-like trap that would restrain the intruder to the strategically placed pegs on his walls, but instead, the scarves only pulled taut against each other with a spider-web-esque pattern. His mother had somehow bypassed it, avoided capture and had lunged at him without a pause. Seating him back on top of his bed, unperturbed at the vicious and sudden attempt of capture.

“Rise ‘n shine sleepy head! Get up, we have a bright and long day ahead of us today~” he blinks blearily, wondering whether or not his mother was actually right in front of him, going through his closet—why was she taking out sets of clothes, and was that a black tuxedo? Where did she get that—wait, that was in his closet?!

Shaking said thoughts off—his mother is the Phantom Lady, he decides to focus on the matter at hand. Like how the clock next to him says it’s still around 3 in the damned morning or the fact that today is a weekday—so why was she packing his clothes?

“Uh, mom?” the woman hums inquisitively but doesn’t turn to him as she eyes two of his more formal dress shirts—ones he prefers to keep at the very back of his closet even if they were colored brightly or vividly. “Why are you packing my stuff? And long day?” she twirls, twirls, to face him

“Well, long days actually~!” she chirps with a megawatt beam on her face. Kaito blinks.

“But I have classes?” he tries, both he and his mother are fully aware of the fact that he actually didn’t need a perfect attendance to learn the lesson in class. Multiple pranks aside, he didn’t actually skip class as much as he let on—even the teachers knew that. Not to mention he didn’t actually miss classes without a good reason (even being Kid wasn’t one.)

His mother laughs as if he had said something funny.

“I already informed them of your future absences and got the okay as long as you turn in the needed requirements and the homework they pass on.” Kaito groans, of course, she has.

“And?” he prompts because while he understood that they were going on some trip of sorts, he still didn’t understand the necessity of such act.

“We’re going to visit your father’s friend’s family! They’re holding a special event and they invited us in honor of your father.” Kaito blinks, he had never heard of this family, at all.

“If they respected the old man that much, where were they on his funeral?!” it was minute, but he saw when his mother’s eye narrowed, her head turned to the side, the slight pursing of her lips.

“They didn’t know your father normally, he taught them the art of disguise… not only that—they knew him more when he was performing for a selective audience and timeframe.” Kaito blinks because then that means—they knew the first Kaitou KID, and considering the situation, his father must have been the one who asked for them to stay away. The fact that they are calling him and his mother on this event of sorts, must mean that something had changed.

For the better or worse, he did not know.

His mother looked at him, knowing exactly where his thoughts had led to and she gives him a slight nod to indicate that she thought the same.

…

His mom drove them through many tunnels, frequently pulling on the dummy paint sheet on the car for a couple of times, and switching modes of transportation repeatedly. Also telling him to switch between different disguises as she did every single time. When he saw a likely illegally acquired—but his mother’s favorite type—he knew that this was the last switch, and he was right as they continued through an almost hidden path by overgrown trees, and further into the uncharted countryside.

He was, to say, surprised when a humongous gate is seen, it was decidedly dark, looming and straight out of a Victorian Gothic Haunted House—Mansion. His mother slowed to a stop in front of it.

“Ah, we’ve been expecting you… please come in.” the voice from the transmitter said, not even asking for their identity. The gates gave a near silent whirl and hum of an activated machine, and the looming metal slid sideways, splitting in the middle. His mother trills her gratitude before driving in—not even waiting for the gates to fully open, slipping in as soon as it was possible.

“Mom?” he voices, uncertain how he should voice his concerns when they were already in the said event estate and the fact that he knows nothing about them. He just hoped his mother would be able to fill in his curious anxiety.

A look at her pleasant smiling face but troubled eyes told him otherwise.

"To be honest, your father was close to said friend…" she pauses with a sigh. “I was close to his wife, especially when we were both pregnant, but I can’t say I actually know about their respective families and each other's in-laws."

Kaito blinks because that meant his mother didn’t know much herself.

“Yuu-kun and Yuki-chan never really mentioned either of them… I don’t even know if they have siblings or not. Yuki-chan has always talked about Shin-chan and Yuu-kun." Kaito nearly huffs. It might have just been an oversight on this friend’s part, but it was also unsettling how uninformed they seem.

The way his mother’s grip tightened around the wheel told him volumes that she had tried to look something up but came up with less than significant information. That alone said a lot.

Kaito could almost feel how his mother minutely tenses but forces herself to relax when she slowed the car to a stop at the front of the mansion that matched the gate a few kilometers away. The double doors creaked open wide and he sees a familiar curly, brown-haired woman, exiting the mansion and rushing down the marble steps with a sharp excited squeal.

Kudou Yukiko―his mind fills in, rushes down the steps with a bright cheerful face. And Kaito recognizes her as the terrifying woman he had called out on her age, though now that he had a sense of being a gentleman in his bones―he can see how the years had treated her well, still looking as youthful as she had been when he first saw her.

“Chi-chan!” the woman practically screams, a bounce on her heels as soon as is mother swings her door open with a flourish and air of a performer.

Returning the other woman’s sentiment by rushing up to her, heels sharply clicking against the smooth cemented ground.

"Yuki-chan!" both adults give each other a soft but tight hug, one that Kaito would love to stay out of. However, he knew that his mother wouldn’t appreciate him hiding in the car so he pushes himself off and outside the vehicle. The noise immediately hones both of the reunited women’s attention to him.

“Oh my, this is Kai-chan? I knew he grew up well, especially taking up after his father! But wow! He’s grown-up to such a handsome young man!" he winces when the bubbly woman snags his face cheeks with a sharp pinch, somehow not scraping it with her manicured nails, but he utters his thanks as clear as possible.

The woman soon lets him go when his mother changes the topic

“How’s Shin-chan, Yuki-chan?” Huh, if he remembered correctly, Kudou Yuusaku and Kudou Yukiko’s only son was that famous high school detective, Kudou Shin’ichi who has been MIA for some time. However, according to his mother—her friends, thus the Kudous, had this unfortunate habit of dropping off the grid of the Earth that would make them almost impossible to track down. Except for his parents, but his mother did say that was only when the Kudous were willing to be found.

So he wonders if Shin’ichi (who he has disguised himself as more than once) was truly missing or just took after his parents.

"Shin-chan’s as cute as always! He looks so much like his father, and of course, me, every day you know?!" Kaito follows after them, maintaining a three-step distance as they all entered the mansion. He listened with half an ear to them as they chattered on, looking around, taking note of the hidden and expertly placed surveillance cameras. Not to mention, if he wasn’t mistaken, those plants, tables and the framed portraits were bugged with listening devices.

The Kudou Lady was talking about how this mansion was her father’s, and that it was shared to their immediate in-laws.

He knew what was coming up was a vital topic, when a portrait caught his eye. He had already understood that each portrait portrayed the family of each generation and the offspring’s family. This portrait caught his eye though because it was one with Kudou Yukiko, a man who he can only assume as Kudou Yuusaku―who has a strong resemblance to his father, if not for the different eye shape, hairstyle, mustache, and familiar glasses. What caught his eye though was the child in the middle. Kudou Shin'ichi is what logic whispers, at the sight of the seven-year-old, almost glaring at the person who painted the canvas, but Kaito would recognize that face—those scrutinizing pair of eyes— anywhere, despite the lack of glasses.

Edogawa Conan, Tantei-kun is his heart’s mind’s whisper.

But what was Tantei-kun doing in the Kudou’s portrait? A check on the nameplate suggested that he was right. But wouldn’t that be Shin’ichi? He did hear that both he and the detective bore a striking resemblance. Seeing Kudou Yuusaku in the canvas told him part of the reason.

But didn’t they say, that while related, Conan was some cousin of Shin’ichi few times removed? That wouldn’t explain the uncanny resemblance between them though.

He snaps out of his near trance seeing that his mother and Yukiko were engrossed in their gossip to notice he had stopped following them, and were already a few rooms away. He rushes after them, taking note that the portrait next to the Kudou’s is a woman who looked alike Yukiko if not for the more reddish tint in her hair, and blue-green eyes, a man with a well-groomed near orange hair and dark-colored eyes next to her, In front of them, are three children each having a likely 2-year-gap with one another. A girl and two boys. And next to it is a portrait of a stern-looking chocolate brown-haired man, a mischievous-looking woman with elegantly curled red locks. And in front of them are two near identical beaming girls, if not for one of them getting the father’s coloring and the other the mother's.

“Kaito! This way!” his mother calls, cutting off his line of thought.

“Coming!”

…

Said event was apparently at least a week-long, and on the first night, it’s a black-tie event. So, now here he is situated and keeping a sharp eye on the crowd around him, his mother had already gone off with her friend—telling him to behave. When he swears they are surrounded by mafia family members, illegal dealers, and smugglers. Hell, that woman with her son on the corner, adjacent to him was a pair he recognized, and they were the infamous kidnappers that operated that equally infamous human-trafficking base in the underground. Their public personas were traveling tabloid reporters.

He’s actually surprised that he hasn’t caught whiff of someone using drugs in the event, that is until he took a closer look and felt sick down to his stomach. There were other minors in the room, much like him—but the worse was the children, most of them having this deadly glint in their eyes, already too mature due to the environment they most likely grew-up in.

When he’d seen one of the few other guests that arrived after him and his mother, he immediately understood that Yukiko did not talk about her family on oversight, no, it was deliberate. They operated on illegal business—ironic, considering her only son is a detective.

Also, wouldn’t that mean that Tantei-kun was involved here? Interacting with the boy had shown him more than once that the boy wasn’t afraid to bend the laws, skirt around it to get what he wanted, even said—though not to him as Kid, Kaito just overheard him say it; ‘It’s not illegal if you aren’t caught.’

He had actually wondered if the littlest detective had snapped. But the boy went back to normal when a case came around the corner.

The lights dimmed, a spotlight focusing on the middle of the stage in the room, promptly gathering everyone’s attention, settling themselves, and Kaito was briefly reminded of a vintage movie that involves a meeting-disguised-as-a-social-gathering of aristocrats. Not to mention, the sheer amount of black-clad people were getting to him; while Snake had not worn a complete nor a majority of black overalls, his subordinates were another story—and his clothes were dark enough. But he decides to shelve those thoughts, trying not to think of that tanned blonde man, dressed in mostly black that cornered him to that train car.

“We thank you, everyone, for coming to this pleasant evening. We sincerely hope that your trip had been well, and went smoothly.” That was a nice and subtle way to tell them a threat that they better not have been followed, the fact that everyone else just laughed lightly with a sinister-like undertone just served to unnerve him. Dabbling in underground dealings were his thing, but this one made him at the center of it all, and not to mention—his real identity was recorded. That alone opened up threats of a whole different story.

He listened with a half ear as the woman welcomed everyone and said the introduction of what was likely a long placating announcement, before the actual important details.

She had just finished naming the recent achievements of each immediate family of the three clan heads behind her. However, the constant use of the “we” and “us” pronouns told him that they weren’t just there to represent their line—but to represent their allegiance.

“Lord Kudou, Fujimine, and Edogawa,” his head snaps up in full attention—Tantei-kun was really involved, even if there was a chance that he might not be aware of it, but knowing the detective that was highly unlikely. “has pleasant news to bring to you all. One of their own has just passed his initiation and starting tonight will be involved in the matters, we have another official addition to the family.

Please welcome,” Kaito chokes, eyes widening at the child that just entered the stage, deaf to the chorus of applause in the background. “Edogawa Shinsuke!”

Lies, that’s Tantei-kun!

And it was, his hair may have been styled, some of his bangs having been pushed back by a dark extravagant pinーhis cowlick flattened down. Suit tailored like the aged men behind him, and despite the lack of glasses—Kaito knew that he was looking at Edogawa Conan, the Primary Student Detective, Kid Killer, Tantei-kun.

Without the obstruction of glasses though, he could feel those eyes’ heavyweight personally on his skin, bearing him down as if they were ready to tear him apart and bear him open. Slowly, the boy smirks, his eyes gleaming darkly.

“Thank you, everyone. I had been looking forward to meeting you, I hope that we all get along in the future.” Shinsuke—Conan, Tantei-kun bows, his voice drawled in a deeper octave that Kaito felt it when his skin crawled.

This was a social event for the higher-ups in the underground, and Tantei-kun is here. Part of the hosting family.

This has to be a dream, in no way Tantei-kun, of all people, is part of the Mafia Family.

This has to be a dream… right?

A hand suddenly clamps on his shoulder.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Quarter of Life|

(Random Idea 3)

Kaito grunts, the breath knocked out of him, and he glares at the 18 kilograms that just flung itself at his midsection.

“You brat…” he growls lowly. But he immediately loses his edge when he hears a thud on the other room.

“Kaito! I hope you boys aren’t fighting?” his mom’s voice echoed from the other room. Moaning lowly, he glares once again at the de-aged teen smugly smirking at him.

“We’re fine mom!”

“Now, now. Kid-kun. You either give me the sapphire, or I’m telling on you.”  Kaito glares at the boy.

“You detectives are really unfair!” he tries to wrestle with the boy, but said detective just clings to him like a limpet reaching for the gem’s hiding that the teen just stole on his heist the other day.

“That’s not even Pandora! Hand it over!”

“No! Lemme go you brat!’

-

 Chikage hums, even as she hears the muffled yelling and ruckus from her son—sons—room, placing the last of the plates on the table, as soon as she sets the last utensil, the chime from the doorbell echoed.

“Boys!  Our guests are here! Tidy up!” she hears their echo of agreement, and them fumbling in their room. Deciding to leave them to it, she answers the door, smiling at Ginzo, Aoko, and three of her classmates. “Good evening! I’m glad you guys could come, do come in—”

“HEY!!! GIVE IT BACK!” maintaining the smile despite her guests’ attention having been shifted, she adds.

“You’re just in time for dinner~” and she steps back to give them space, making a wide arch of a welcoming gesture. They seemed hesitant but slowly moved in, awkwardly voicing their own greetings.

“IF YOU WANT IT! COME AND GET IT!” they all looked up questioningly, giving her a concerned inquisitive gaze. Her smile twitched.

“Aoko-chan, you know where the dining room is, please do lead them… I’ll get the boys.”

…

They all stared as Chikage left, each shuffling into the given indoor slippers.

“So… did Kuroba tell us, why he asked for us here, Nakamori-san?” Hakuba asks the girl hums a negative shaking her head. But before she could even say anything. The voice of their host screams out.

“I TOLD BOTH OF YOU TO TIDY UP! STOP STALLING AND GET DOWNSTAIRS AND GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE I GIVE YOU BOTH AN ACTUAL REASON TO CRY!!!”

Hakuba sighs, a glance at the two Nakamoris actually told him that this was a sort of usual occurrence.

Typical Kuroba.

|To Be Continued…|

|Collaborator’s Reach|

(Random Idea 3; Version 2)

Conan feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise, trying to placate his beating heart as he read the text he just received. Looking around warily, he tries to see if there was someone watching. Finding nothing out of place, he glances back at his phone’s screen glaring at the unchanging foreboding coded message.

From: Unknown

Subject: You’ll know.

‘Play along, Kudou Shin’ichi.’

It didn’t change, he wasn’t careful enough. He had to do something.

…

“I’m telling you, Hakase. I need to know if you can check into the server and see if the calls I made to Ran had been tapped!” the Professor sighs.

“Look, Shin’ichi, while possible, the calls you made had been more than weeks past. It would take me a while to look for it, not to mention dodge any agents that might be trying to latch on my hacking. This is dangerous.” Conan growls, but not to the Professor and more to himself.

“Can you do it without compromising yourself?” he asks grimly, looking up at the Professor who wilts a bit.

“I can but it will take a few weeks.” And we don’t have that. Conan moans understanding the aged man’s concern, “I’ll try to—”

No, if the Professor were to rush this, he could be found. And he says as much,

“No. I’ll do something about it. If anyone comes here and asks, I want you to say that you haven’t seen nor heard from me since the night I disappeared in Tropical Land. Tell them, if they ask Ran and she says that you said I left—tell them that was someone else. You didn’t notice because their back was turned to you. Tell them you don’t know who. Tell them you didn’t notice until it was too late.” Agasa’s eyes widened.

“No, Shin’ichi-kun—I can’t—!” Shin’ichi inwardly swears, he grasps the inventor’s hands tight in his small ones.

“No! Listen to me, Hakase!” he glares up at the man. “You have to. You know who Edogawa Conan is, you met him. But as far as you know, he has no relation to Kudou Shin’ichi. That’s it.” seeing the man about to protest, Shin’ichi adds. “You said it yourself, those men that tried to kill me are dangerous if they find out. They’re going to come for me and kill those around me. I can’t have you targeted, you’re already in enough danger as it is. I don’t want to add more to that. I’m already risking this meeting as it is.”

The Professor makes an uncertain noise of protest, but Conan shakes his head.

“You tell no one, please, Professor.” Agasa sighs deeply, but nods.

“Be careful, Shin’ichi.” Conan nods.

“I will. From now on, make sure you’ll consistently call me, Conan. Edogawa Conan is simply a distant relative, after all.” the inventor eyes him grimly, but sighs once more, resigned he nods. The shrunken detective sighs in relief.

“Thank you…”

…

Conan makes a false show of enjoying the rare video game he gets to play while keeping half an ear on both Ran and Kogorou’s conversation.

They had received a message earlier that one of his aunts would be coming to pick him up from the agency. The fact that it was sent by an Unknown messenger only served to ring on the alarms in his head in full-force. However, left with no choice but to play along, since there was nothing he could do in this situation, he waits. And the first chance he gets, he will escape, only he would have to stay away this time. Keep away from anyone that ever knew him. He couldn’t afford to be reckless and careless, it would get the others killed.

And so, he does as the message that was sent to him.

‘Play along.’

That didn’t change the fact that his skin slowly broke down in cold sweat, or how his frantically beating heart almost deafened his hearing. How he had to force himself to breathe deeply and hold his breath, lest he started hyperventilating. The door opens, and he feels every muscle in his body freeze. Vision tunneling to the petite, frail looking, bespectacled woman.

“We’re really grateful that you took in my nephew at such short notice. My sister is quite occupied, so I’m here to pick him up.” Kogorou narrows his eyes at the bob-haired woman.

“And you are?” he asks rather warily that Conan would share his sentiment if he didn’t see the man’s leery gaze. The woman makes a show of flustering and fumbling around, well played if Conan didn’t already have his reserves on her.

“I’m Kyoko… Tachibana Kyoko. Edogawa Fumiyo—Conan-kun’s mother’s younger sister.” he couldn’t help it—he glares at her. Sure, she looked generic enough to pass off as his mother’s sibling, her dark chocolate brown hair and olive green eyes. However, his mother wouldn’t have a sibling like that. At all.

It was insulting… that meek attitude.

Ran nods, smiling at her then turned to him.

“Isn’t it great, Conan-kun?” he didn’t get to hide his glare fast enough, not that he didn’t want to stop it. So, instead, he scowls, Ran cocks her head. “Conan-kun?”

The woman, Kyoko, stutters, catching the karateka’s attention.

“He and I… we don’t really get along…” she offers sheepishly, already adding their backstory for the Mouri’s who now paid attention to her. “I think, Conan-kun believes that as long as I’m available. He would have less time to spend with his parents.” Kogorou makes a sound of understanding, already uttering words of sympathy. The woman feigning relief at the two guardian’s empathy.

Ran, of course, is understanding. Since there are children like that.

Adding another dose of annoyance.

Reigning that in, he scans the woman, eyes narrowing when he takes note of the hidden small pistol with an ankle hostler, then the one in her breast pocket—not to mention the multiple knives on her person. There was also a faint bulge in her dark blue jacket’s left pocket. Judging from the shape, it’s a bottle… chloroform then.

“It’s time to go, Conan-kun…” she smiles kindly at him, he was sorely tempted to throw a fit, anything, but he saw the minute glare from her. And that alone told him not to, so instead, playing along with the excuse she just gave, he scoffs petulantly, huffing. As if he didn’t want to go with her, which he actually didn’t; both as the act and genuinely.

But in the end, they are loading the small things he accumulated during his stay in the back of a small cream colored porsche. It didn’t even take half an hour, and he’s already strapped on the front passenger seat, the woman behind the wheel fumbling with her seatbelt. And Conan wonders, if she was fine to even drive. Though considering who sent her and likely what group she’s part of, it could just be part of the act. Though he’s also wondering how this would make the Mouri’s trust her when she’s portraying herself like someone who would be a hazard on the road.

From the look on both Ran and Kogorou’s faces, they seemed worried themselves, but Ran holds it back by smiling at him.

“I guess, this is it, Conan-kun.” glaring one more time at the woman, he turns to Ran with a smile, not really wanting to leave her.

“Un… I…” he trails off, wondering if it was fine for him to actually say something, but he continues. It really wouldn’t be odd if he were to say the next line, after all. “I’ll miss you.” Ran smiles sadly and the engine turns on, slowly the woman, Kyoko drives off

It was barely audible… probably projected by his mind, but he swore he heard Ran say.

“Bye-bye… Conan-kun.”

…

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kudou Shin’ichi-kun… or would you rather, prefer Edogawa Conan-kun?” the man greets with a pleasant smile.

“I was hoping we could come into an understanding… would that be possible?”

“...” he glares at the man, who chuckles.

“Where are my manners. I am Zero, I am here to give you a proposition if you would consider.”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Cerberus of Wisteria|

(Random Idea 4)

It was madness,

Anywhere he looked was madness. He was still getting over his feverish state, sore all over, groggy, not to mention exhausted. And as if it wasn’t any worse; he had an aching headache that accompanied the churning gnaw of his stomach, hungry, dehydrated. Weak.

There was no way he could get out of this cult ring as he is.

There’s no way, he could get out of this alone.

He needed help, and he would have to break the taboo just to do it—but something needs to bring these bastards down. Then he’s coming after those that did this to him.

So, he ignores the heavy lead-like weight that settled in his heart as he heard another child being bled to death on that sacrificial table plateau. Ignores how children screamed, cried, and fell hopelessly silent around him. Instead, he focuses inwards, working to calm himself—then working himself up again. Focus, he’d whisper to himself reaching for his all-too depleted energy turning said focus outwards,

He glares at the cult operations and the sickening audiences, keeping an eye on them, making sure that whatever he was doing would slip their notice until it was already too late to stop him.

He then half drags the focus to himself and a small space around him, making sure to pick a fight when one of the cultists grabbed his arm and manhandled him to the table. When the knife rose up, glinting sharply from the flame of the candles that lit the room. He wraps the energy around himself, feeling it vibrating and alive on his skin almost rejuvenating him—but that wasn’t his goal.

He mentally curses at the observers’ laughter and sadistic pleasure he glares up at his executioner-to-be—if this monster were to succeed that is.

He doesn’t swat at the rising dark, sadistic pleasure welling up in him—part of him felt sickened and ashamed that he’s letting himself sink, but he swats at that and allows the dark energy to wrap around him. He tears a small portion of this reality’s dimension fabric—

The knife swings down.

He calls…

…

It was interesting… peculiar.

He had felt the call, sharp, crisp, crystal clear despite its exhaustion. It was enticing, not to mention rarely anything happens here, it was getting dull. So, he answers the call before anyone else can, and with him, his partners came along. They were a package after all—there was no taking only one or two of them, it’s all or nothing.

So, he lets the summoner cop a feel on their auras, clearly curious and slightly confused as to why there were three of them—then it turns to a bewildered, fearful wonder. Wondering if he even had enough energy to summon them—and that was understandable, from his aura’s fatigued state it was obvious he was highly depleted, and even just summoning them alone would likely kill him—but they were a package.

Summoning them would take a lot of energy, yes, but summoning one of them can summon them all.

So, he sends a reassuring and a challenge to their summoner, his partners backing his message, and then they were being wrapped and pulled into the mortal realm. As they have agreed on, he checks for the surroundings, Scotch checks the surroundings around the surroundings and Bourbon checks on their summoner.

Bourbon takes an unnecessary sharp breath, keeping half attention on the presence surrounding them, he looks where Bourbon is looking—and his breath too, hitches.

In front of them is their summoner, deathly pale, feverish and fatigued. Laying down flat against an offering table, as a robed man crouched on top him a knife piercing through the boy’s hand as an attempt to keep it from stabbing his chest, only the tip drawing blood from his chest.

But that wasn’t what made his breath hitch and take a vacation, made him feel winded. The boy was so young, not even a ten-year-old, maybe six or seven. Fatigued, exhausted… and yet he was glaring defiantly at the man, eyes gleaming with determination so bright, it left him breathless.

The contract wasn’t complete, yet. Time has stopped for the people—the cult around them, the child side-eyes them, not moving from his position, knowing that if time were to play he would be stabbed if he were to falter.

So young, and tiny—yet he wasn’t frightened by these men that pose a threat to him, no he wanted to fight back. And that was something rare. Even rarer was this child’s conviction and sheer determination—well, children could be stubborn, but it was different with this one. Not to mention, the child shouldn’t even have enough energy to summon them at his best, but he did while severely depleted, ill, starved and dehydrated. So the boy did the next alternative… and did it. Wow.

It was an ineffable wonderful exhilaration.

Peculiarly wonderful.

“Do you realize what you’re doing boy?” he tests because it was possible that it was simply a coincidental product of desperation since the boy was of pure summoner blood. The boy possibly even doesn’t realize that he summoned a demon (ridiculously slim possibility, but still... possibility.) than a familiar—not that there would be familiars that would be able to help him in his situation.

Then the boy glares at him. That’s good, he was aware after all.

“I wouldn’t have summoned you now, would I?” Bourbon snorts.

“He does have a point there you know…” then Bourbon turns his attention back to the boy. “Do you have a certain aim in mind, boy? Aside from getting rid of the immediate people here?”

“We’re technically not supposed to say that?” Scotch remarks from his side, Bourbon cheekily grins at him. But he didn’t have to say anything because the boy speaks over him.

“Well? Are you here just for the chit-chat?” the boy snarls, nearly growling, glaring at them and glancing at the knife still obviously protruding in his hand, scraping and drawing more blood on his chest just below his collarbone.

“Do you have your part in mind then?” the boy nods, and the energy around them flickers before it thickened. Rye would have studied them, but a part of him wanted to find out by observing the boy, so he held back. His partners respond in kind, and in consensus, he adds. “Then… you know what to say.”

The boy breathes deeply, facing the still frozen stature of the cultist in front of him.

“I, Kudou Shin’ichi, forge this contract with you, bound to me you shall be until you’ve done your end of the bargain, and you shall be paid.”

“And it is done.” they responded, and the boy, Shin’ichi, screams when he too feels the burn of being branded, arching off the table and making the knife dig into his skin. Alarmed they stepped forward, and pulling the knife from the cultist’s hands, the scream dies out too soon, and Rye wonders if the branding was too much—

“I command you,” the three of them perks up in sync, feeling the twinge and filling of energy surging through them. “handle this and get me out of here.” A sense of urgency, the boy hisses but tilts his chin up defiantly, the Faustian Contract gleaming faintly and Rye would have probably felt light-headed if he needed to breathe, this boy was just—

‘He’s amazing…’ Bourbon speaks through their mental links and both he and Scotch hums in agreement.

“As you wish, Master.”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|An Out of Place Idealistic Realist Writer|

(Random Idea 5)

Conan has been jumpy lately, always skittering on and off. Looking over his shoulders as if he had a painted target on his back, and according to the kids he has been acting like this for two months, but he doesn’t always look over his shoulder—that apparently only happens for a week at every end of the month. As if there was something setting off his paranoia.

So, as Amuro, he asks Ran if something happened two months ago, nothing much, but that was around the time he and the children were involved in another murder case. Approaching Conan would be detrimental, so he waits.

-

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Amuro-san… has there been changes in the board? Something new or maybe something that they just moved?” Have you heard of a new member or someone making a move? He translates the boy’s message—he did owe him for that case with Curacao—even if it ended with them without a lead. But it was vital that they keep NOCs inside the organization.

“I’m certain that the board was as is, as I left it. But I’ll check it to confirm.” I haven’t heard of anything I’ll see what I can do. The boy nods stiffly, eyes flickering around the surroundings—scanning the streets outside of the Café. And Amuro wonders if whoever Conan had caught an eye on, had come by the Café or worse, the Agency.

“Was there anything you wanted to add?” he prompts.

“Yes, I think some purple would do, you know since it would an elegant color for the future queen?” Young woman, wearing a mix of black and purple. That was alarming, he hadn’t heard of a new recruit—however, it would be another story if it was an old member that the Organization was keeping under the wraps.

“I’ll see what I can do.” he paused because he knows Conan wouldn't go to him unless the FBI didn’t have anything. “The Queen’s dogs didn’t say anything to dissuade you?” What about the FBI, they got nothing or are they keeping it from you?

“Nothing, but they did tell us to be more careful in navigating the board.” They have nothing, but their hands are tied—so they’re leaving this to us, but we have to be careful. He nods, because against the Organization that was something that they should exercise. Failing that could easily have them killed at worse, and be mistaken at best.

If this woman, Conan is being alarmed about, is a civilian then that’s one potential suspect down, if not—they’re screwed.

A consultation with his superior had them all in agreement to refrain from engaging contact, he says as much to Conan. They couldn’t afford to let their guards down that low.

…

Getting a coded message and part “SOS” from the said boy wasn’t in the least comforting. Even less so when he ends up hiding out around the same spot Akai picked, to observe the outside of the aforementioned apartment building. They both spent a few seconds staring at each other―was Akai mocking him with that blonde hair disguise under that ever familiar knitted bonnet?

Then Akai seems to have reached some sort of decision, and before he could even protest—the man is pulling his cap off, exchanging it with his bonnet. While Akai puts on the cap on his wigged-head.

“What the hell, Akai?!” he hisses, knowing it wasn’t the time to pick a fight with the other bane of his existence.

“Just a precaution." the man says—and did he just winked?! What the hell?

-

Well, at least the boy left the building uninjured, and on his phone—likely going to tell either of them to call off the ‘rescue’ or that the other is coming; well, a little too late for that.

However, the boy was shaken and wasn’t even as observant as he usually would be especially to where he was heading. And for once, both he and Akai agreed mutually on one thing, they both blocked the boy’s path, letting him run into them—and they both drag him off.

Because someone really needs to drill “do not engage contact” into that thick skull and big brain of his.

…

The development was less than stellar, aside from the first time the woman went to the Poirot, she never did again. Almost as if that one visit was enough for her, even though she was more focused on that small memo pad she brought—and he regretted not paying attention to that when he served her. But that was before Conan approached him, while she did feel off he didn’t get the presence; one would from the Organization or the potential to be one.

—And maybe that should have been why he should have paid more attention. Because her presence blended with the background rather than the shadows. If she were actually an operative it would be bad news to everyone, because who was to say there weren’t more?

She had the presence of a collaborator—that enough should have alarmed him.

…

Then something changed.

Conan was leaving without his friends more frequently, slipping out of the Mouri residence with some lie, and when he returned there was always an addition on his person. Like that iconic Sherlock Holmes themed phone strap—a search on the internet told him it wasn’t sold anywhere. Meaning someone made it and gave it to him.

Then he came back with a soccer and clover bag charm. A jeweled brooch that he gave to him—a thorough check told him it wasn’t in any way a hidden trick, or bugged. But that it was made with a stainless steel pin and frame, and that the sapphire-like opal was actually a brilliantly dyed and mixed resin and an assortment of colored glitter.

And he got two other fingerprints aside from his, Conan’s and Azusa.

A match to Youna Mikami.

‘What had changed?’ he wanted to actually test it with Vermouth, but if she truly was a civilian, he couldn’t risk it—especially since a background check into her, while keeping to her anonymous-esque cover, she was very popular not to mention she had many connections at just the right places.

Conan wouldn’t like a mess like that—since when did he start viewing that Elementary Schooler with the pedestal of his superior?

So, instead, he waits for the chance to meet her. It wouldn’t be long, seeing as she already met Akai—yes, he saw that interaction, or more like a collaborator informed him that she had made contact with Okiya Subaru—those kids that hang out with Conan, including that other more tea-blonde haired girl that he hasn’t even met.

He just needed to wait.

-

His chance came when said tea-blonde haired girl lost her soccer player mascot phone strap, the adventure-esque search (Kazami must be questioning his sanity right now). But this was advantageous in a way.

Some catching action, chasing after a robber-turned-actual owner and finding the actual place for the strap—though Conan looked close to screaming his lungs out when they did find it.

However, the doll had been ran-over and looked dirt ridden all over, missing an eye—he highly doubts the girl would like it back, aside from the effort her friends put in the search.

“Mikami-san can help! We just need to find the eye!” Ayumi’s sudden bright input and he watched with amusement as the boys practically jolted into action to locate the dislodged doll eye. Though he swore he overheard that the doll was worth so much because the player the doll is modeled after touched it.

Not to mention, they were apparently on a firstname basis with her—ah, those personalized phone straps. Did the woman worm her way through with bribery? But Conan surely isn’t the type to fall for such petty acts, right?

It doesn’t matter, he’ll get his answer soon. And he smirks when Conan makes a call.

…

“What about you…” she trails off, though, by her slightly strained (likely restrained) tight expression, she knew exactly who he is. But at least she still had the sense to keep it concealed from the children.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Youna Mikami-san, right?” he smiles pleasantly—one she easily returns. She wasn’t the only one with a multi-faced cover. “Conan-kun has mentioned you.” well, not a complete lie. “I’m Amuro Tooru.” he extends a hand for a handshake—though unnecessary. But she doesn’t even bat an eyelash, and grasps his hand firmly—a slight tightening motion led him to believe that she was warning him of something. But alas the meaning is lost on him—but it seemed Conan had an inkling of why.

It seemed like her background wasn’t lying about her occupation, except for some few missing details. She had small lined faint scars from knife-throwing and grip muscles from gun-handling.

He must have given it away because she simply arched her brow higher, but her lower expression didn’t change—except for the glint in her eyes that seemed to gleam like they were saying she knew everything.

“Ah, yes… Conan-kun has also told me about ‘Amuro-niichan’ and his great culinary expertise.” her hand tightened even further. “I hear you work at Coffee Poirot.” to everyone else, that was a question. But to him it was a statement, her eyes had gleamed again. A stark contrast against her bright welcoming smile.

But he must say… this will be interesting.

(Also, was it just him or did Conan roll his eyes and nearly slapped his own face? Only settled for leaning on his glass of iced coffee.)

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Tantei Kid and Kaitou Killer|

(Random Idea 6)

Poker Face. Don’t forget your Poker Face.

Kaito mentally insists, giving it his all to keep his Poker Face on top of his face. Yes, while he may have acted like an overgrown kid as a teen, it didn’t mean he had the actual mentality of one. But what must be done, must be done. Just so he can keep Them from finding out that he was still alive, just quite not exhibiting his form as he did.

(His mother and current guardian took care of any possible connection to connect Kid to his civilian persona that is currently missing—or well, in some family emergency in some other country.)

But Primary School is boring. Not to mention for first impressions’ sake, Shin’ichi took away all his prank gadgets, aside from a few parlor tricks—it was torturous. He was so pranking Shin-chan so hard when he got home.

“3 x 3 = 9!” he groans and silently thumps his head on the desk, mentally screaming bloody murder.

…

Shin’ichi twitched, feeling how a strong breeze hit his hair from a smoke-ball-like impact. Slowly turning to the shrunken ex-phantom thief, he asks.

“Do I want to know what color you turned my hair into this time?”

“Be glad Ran-san cheered me up so I just dyed it several gradients of blue and purple! You prude flower!” he sighs heavily as the thief sprints away with a maniacal laugh, baby blue smoke in his wake as confetti, ribbons and the like exploded in the room. He groans when he feels another wave, this time glitters from the matter the trickled in sparkles.

Looking down, he wasn’t even surprised that his clothes were now a dark bluish navy green as if to say he’s actually a flower.

It looks like he’ll have to watch his steps again as he navigated his house for another week. Kaito—or rather Arthur, his adopted younger brother—due to certain circumstances from some obscure relatives of a family friend that suffered something which led them to be hospitalized for an indefinite amount of time—throw another tantrum.

And he wonders if Kaito was actually his parents’ son, seeing as his personality was very reminiscent to his mother—though a secret blood check told him they weren’t even remotely related, aside from having close friends-parents and the fact that they look alike enough to pass off as twins.

How did I get into this mess? He can’t help but think. Recalling that fateful day before he and Ran went to the promised Tropical Land—he had been begged by his mother to go to some event, one that Kaitou Kid was apparently holding a heist at.

He wouldn’t have believed—unless provided solid evidence—that the boy in front of him used to be a teenager that gallivanted as an Internationally wanted Phantom Thief to avenge and expose his father’s killers.

Sighing, he checks the time and resigns himself to another fate of learning disguising, acting and pranking from Kaito—all because they couldn’t let the public know Kaitou Kid was gone when Kuroba Kaito left.

Even if it was just to some small audience—you never know where those people lurked after all.

His luck sucked.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Porcelain Husk|

(Random Idea 7)

He couldn’t move.

He was conscious, yet not awake. That alone was weird.

Silence raged on and echoed dreadfully in this empty darkened space. No scent, no wind, nothing.

There wasn’t an indication of temperature but he felt tremors coursing through his nerves, but it wasn’t cold, nor was it hot. The sensation was actually familiar—but where? Oh, he was in his—

—suddenly blinding white, hot pain sparks to life. Blooming from the back of his head, and he would have shouted if he could—but his voice felt utterly stuck in his throat.

It was painful.

He couldn’t even move, as if something was forcibly keeping him in place—only leaving enough so he could tense, but not do much of anything.

Then the searing heat spread throughout his body, scraping and nipping. And he nearly screams—but couldn’t.

It hurt. It hurts. It hurts…

However, it was unforgiving, coming after waves and waves of pain after a short lapse of calm—then, it’s cold.

So cold… he almost coughs, but it felt like he was swallowing his own tongue and in the end, couldn’t.

Another cold wave and his strength slip, he passes out.

…

He still couldn’t move…

But something was different, he could faintly make out shadow, blurry blobs in front of him, he was sitting—someplace high—how did he get here? He still couldn’t move

The place wasn’t even a place, it was just some dump of shadow blocks he couldn’t even discern, but from the vibe of the place—it was like he was inside some sort of… what was he doing here? Wasting his time when he should be out there—

Blinding white—pain.

Not again.

It hurts.

Once again, he passes out… even though he knew he shouldn’t. She was waiting for him.

—She?

…

Like all the other times he couldn’t move, he was at the same place as the second time he was vaguely conscious. But he could make out something—was that a phone?

Why is there a phone on—he was also holding a phone—his phone when it happened…

Again, pain on the back of his head—and he was falling into a limp on the floor, then pain wracked his whole body.

Like all those other times, he slips—but he sees it before he did.

The location had changed… that was weird.

…

He slips just as he was about to gain consciousness—but not wake up.

He wasn’t welcome here.

He couldn’t fight back the urge, he blacked out.

-

He was back, but something felt odd—like he was wearing something else entirely, but he really needed to get out of here first he just needed to—

The location shifts and suddenly it was cold, he was sinking, yet floating it was—no he was underwater.

Someone was drowning him?

He slips.

…

The next time he woke up in that shadowy block place, he was once again seated, yet he still couldn’t move, despite the lack of binding. He tried not to think of those that triggered the pain—and even willing himself not to almost instigated it. He needed to find a way to get out of here, to be able to move. Just as he was getting the hang of the said strategy after multiple black-outs later.

Something suddenly grabs his forearm (a hand, female) hard enough he swore he would bruise and break a bone, and he is manhandled roughly on the ground—heat uncomfortably pressing against his skin, but it dies out soon enough.

The hand wraps around his forearm again, and he’s flying…

—he feels it when his back slams against the wall.

His mouth opens but no voice is coming out, even as he slumps on the low ground.

And everything started darkening—soon enough he feels it, as blow after blow lands on his immobile body.

This was new, he just needed to calm down, (don’t think about it) breathe deeply and—-breathe?

Why would he breathe? He didn’t need it.

—Pain.

He nearly groans, but this time out of frustration that his focus slipped and he feels a sharp pain on the back of his head again, and the painful heat wracking his body restarted.

And he was doing so well…!

…

Now, that shadowy block place was familiar, he could actually faintly make out more objects than just the phone, like that shelf over there, or that misused umbrella rack.

He spent his meager time of consciousness wisely, trying to recognize his surroundings—something fell; that was a candle—shit.

For the next few minutes, he watched as the place went up in flames.

So much for memorizing the outlines.

Sleep tugged at him, and he listened, he didn’t want another blackout caused by the triggered pain, anyway.

(Not to mention the heat was uncomfortable, and something told him it will be fine, despite the fire breaking out.)

…

The place he came to was different, yet not. He was once again seated, but the place was weird—ah, despite the consistent arrangement, it was the location that changed.

Unlike last time where he felt he was unwelcomed, now it felt like there was some compromise reached—but that didn’t matter much to him, he was still stuck, unable to move or get out of this place.

Despite the consistency of the decorative shadow blocks, he could tell they were different—some weren’t even where they were at first—or more likely they were taken down with the fire. Just their general location seemed about right, but not everyone was perfect to the T.

-

This had become a new routine, slowly but surely he was able to recognize the objects enough that even though they were blurred, the moment he guessed or deduced them right, they would replace the shadow block—only they were still in black and white.

He had almost memorized the whole layout of the room—when he swore he felt some presence—these ones standing out from the other ones—approach the room. And sleep came tugging back at him, and before he knew it he sunk under.

…

He woke up.

He could move. Something had changed, but that didn’t matter. He could move, he could finally go back to her.

The place was no longer that other location filled with much random stuff, this one looked more like a living room. He can easily get around that—but he was groggy. But he really needed to get back to her—but before that he needed to check on his mind palace.

He slips his eyes shut, focusing inwards—those men that tried to get rid of him, they will pay.

Feeling the familiar sensation, he opens his eyes…

His mind palace was a wreck.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|One Truth|

(Random Idea 8)

It was one thing to go undercover with a public reputation as an insane genius, high school detective and another to be the co-leader of an underground criminal syndicate—though, seeing as it was a family business rather than one he started on his own. He didn’t exactly have a choice on that matter.

He has to say that he currently despises this version of the organization—or what the organization has become—quite far from the family expectations. Now that he had come of age, the elders and his father; the current co-head, practically pushes him to the forefront to take up the second-in-command’s role. One of the various versions of Rum; only he was no ordinary Rum, he would be the leader of all Rums. (If that made any sense.)

He’s apparently the Odorless Rum, meaning no one, no one should get him—well, kill him, that is.

From what he knows, someone else has received Ano Kata’s code without their knowledge—since it helps with the cover and keeps them from slipping up. The former Ano Kata apparently just decided to gallivant off somewhere in the globe after dropping off the grid.

As the next Rum in-line from the Kudo line, it’s his duty to oversee the dealings within his turf without letting the lower members know about it—though Vermouth clearly knew if her latest visits were any indication.

Now, he just saw Gin and Vodka ride the Mystery Coaster—that’s fine, an organization member was entitled to have their weird quirks, and should they wish to indulge on it—no one’s there to stop them or tell them otherwise. (Vermouth, his godmother loved pretending to be her own mother and daughter for shits and giggles.

His mother was an actress.

His father is a mystery writer.

His in-laws-to-be were international wanted felons, one in hiding and the other having the time of their life.)

If Shinichi was touchy about that—he would be a major hypocrite and counterproductive to the point of being considered as a threat seeing as he is a detective, undercover or not. Seriously, the most normal quirk any of the members had was Sherry’s unhealthy love for animals. She had different animals for her test subjects, but her rooms? Filled with animals, it’s practically a zoo. But they can afford it.

Anything for their precious scientist, and biochemist.

He enjoys his work, plus this wasn’t his families goal when the organization grew as it is.

And the only way to fix it was to apparently dismantle it and start from the scratch… though that would require much more effort than it should. They are a multinational organization after all.

Though, this Gin was really getting on his nerves lately. (He likes the Gin in Britain, at least that guy knew how to have fun. Even if he has a few screws loose.)

And he just gave Shin’ichi a reason to personally get rid of him without it being labeled under insubordination. Sure, he could just order someone to kill Gin, simple… but where would be the fun in that?

—and who in the fucking world was stupid enough to give the OK to use APTX-4869 in the field?!

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Specialized|

(Random Idea 9)

This is just a placeholder… for multiple reasons/explanations.

First and foremost, I’m quite hesitant because, while I have some plot thought out for this, I don’t really know how the original author of this fanfic trope would take it? [Meaning: if it’s okay for someone like me to play around with this idea.] (←I’m not joking, I can be unpleasant when I play around with ideas. Some ideas that shouldn’t even exist.) [←As of May 15, 2019. This is null and void. Phantoms said yes—kinda, in a way, but said yes— :). Also, I’d tag or add an inspired by a section in the endnotes, but since this isn’t actually an official preview. Much less an official chapter, I’ll save the tag/official inspire by section when I do write the preview and when I started the series of this.

Now, I just need to get my head straight—impossible.]

Though I [Edit 05-19-2019: still] have several other tweaks to it… but it’s not all that ironed out, yet. ←Which is also the second reason.

Thirdly, I have scenes pre-prepared… but I am not comfortable to put them here. They don’t fit, not to mention they don’t have the preview feel to it. So, I set that aside. I have a few ideas… but I’m still not sure.

Fourth, I’m actually not that sure if the tweaks I did, would fit. I have to review my notes, and adjust them as I go… but the basic idea was/is: What if the SG ranking doesn’t stop at Level 5 and Rank A, respectively. But goes beyond that (just one level or rank)? Wherein that additional rank is specifically for those rare—though not uncommon, if that makes senses—Sentinels and Guides that have a (number of) unique ability(ies), with a variety of levels.

However, I am committing myself to one fanfic story at a time, and try to dare myself to try two stories at a time… and see it from there… which brings us to—

Fifth; These are previews—I technically don’t consider them as full stories yet. Previews and stories are different… that’s why I’m uploading this and ASotH at the same time. Posting this allows me to share my idea, at the same time not fully committing to it, and instead have the choice to come back to it, see which piques my interest most and take it from there.

[Not my words—I’m just paraphrasing, astorii helped me realize that while I was mulling over the pros and cons of doing something like this. Credit where it’s due. And astorii’s stories are great, go check them out.]

What else… I think those are it for now?

But this is just a placeholder, so. I will update it… depending on how things go. (No promises.)

(By the way, I’m keeping this ^^↑)

[Preview is here below.]

…

Haibara would have growled warningly at the squirming detective, had she not understood how he felt right at that moment. The fact that she is watching him fidget with the cloth that seemed like it wanted to grate his skin off, made her feel like her own was crawling despite the fact that after she shrunk she had gone offline.

She pitied the detective as he winced as something shattered in the next room (most likely hearing it as if it shattered right next to his ear—or in his head, depending on how strong his senses are) and his nose crinkling from something only his enhanced senses could pick up.

She pitied him, she truly did.

Unlike her, he didn’t have the luxury of becoming a child neutral as he should have after being administered the drug and somehow become one of the 1 percent that could have survived.

Though it might have to do with the fact that unlike her, the detective was no ordinary sentinel when he came online, and it was possible that the apoptoxin couldn’t force his cells to go dormant once more. Not after it had resurfaced.

Aside from Gin and Vermouth, it truly was her first time encountering a highly powered sentinel, and get to study them up close—not to mention Kudou hasn’t fully explored his powers yet, was something she really looked forward to. However, like the saying of ‘every action has an equal reaction,’ she couldn’t help but notice that there were drawbacks whenever he used his abilities.

Especially now, Kudou had claimed that his senses and abilities were likely overcompensating when his body shrunk as it did, trying to wring out the same control and power capacity he had as a young adult—which of course did not work well with his child body.

Not to mention, the rapid growth of his immunity to the temporary antidotes and the Senes pills, clearly she needed to recheck her data…

Figure things out, before he exposes it to the others that he isn’t quite what he claims he is, as children that come Online at a young age, specialized or not—would raise complicated problems if it were to get out in public.

For once, she wished she was one of the biochemists that studied the Sentinels for the Organization (they found it a waste of time for her to study those when she could make herself useful and further the research of her parents), so that she could help Kudou in his situation—one wrong compound and she could kill him, cut off one of his abilities—and he was already cagey enough about that.

Plausible deniability was helpful for people like him and the ones involved.

…

Shin’ichi inwardly hissed and fussed, wanting desperately to tug and pull off the offending piece of clothing that wrapped around his skin, feeling like they were chaffing off—even though he knew that wasn’t physically possible, though his senses claimed they were.

And of course, Senes-5 wasn’t working as well as it should on his body—it was expected, he suspected something like that would happen.

While he did not want to discriminate, a Sentinel-6’s body just worked differently than the typical other Sentinel’s would. That included their resistance and overall body system—not to mention, depending on their ability or in his case, abilities, their Senes pills would also have to be personalized to them.

For the SGN Center, the Senes pills were only required if the Sentinel has yet to find a Guide.

The SSG Center, on the other hand, the first they looked for was a compatible match according to the system, right after recording the—Specialized (as the government has taken to call the Sentinel-6s and S-Ranked Guides) orientated Sentinels and Guides’ abilities and capabilities, their control pills would be issued only to be taken when their match was absent.

He hasn’t told Haibara the extent of his abilities, yet. Back when he first came online, his test showed that he’s a Sentinel-6 Level 8.5—which meant, if he couldn’t put proper stock or control his ability he could and would be considered as a lethal terrorist weapon, with multiple abilities. He knew that there was some misunderstanding when they first resurfaced, he had tried to correct the physician for mistaking the numbers of his abilities—however, both of his parents told him otherwise.

They said the test system—aside from the compatibility check—could sometimes mistake the number a Specialized one has, only in his case he does have five abilities.

His physician named one as two, in the Center he had one unaccounted ability.

Just like his parents.

Unlike what Haibara and the Professor thought, he did go offline when he shrunk. He just somehow forced himself back Online.

According to Haibara, he was lucky his body didn’t outright shutdown on him when he transformed back to Shin’ichi the first time when Hattori first appeared in his life—apparently, it was actually the alcohol that allowed him to transform without getting overstimulated by the pain.

It could have killed him.

And his match wouldn’t even know, because even he didn’t know how Shin’ichi is right now. As Shin’ichi he could keep his Sentinel senses and abilities from going over the edge. Which was exactly how they managed to keep the distance from one another for long periods of time.

They did meet up every three months. Though they could last without the other for half a year—his match even more so.

However, as Conan; he felt like he was constantly filled to the brim with the impending threat of combustion not only from his raging senses that tried to meet his former standards as a young adult—his abilities doing the same, he could burn them out but he knew it would be detrimental. Not to mention, there was no way he could meet up with him like this—oh, Kaito would believe him, however, knowing the other teen, he would involve himself in this whole mess. And that was something he really could live without.

It was bad enough for Hattori to be dragged in it. Kaito didn’t need this mess on top of being a part-time Guide S Therapist and whatever side-jobs the hyperactive-genius decided to take. The teen had enough mess of that murder-disguised-accident of his father’s death—yes, he could confirm that much to Kaito.

Whatever Kaito decided to do with that information the other teen had already promised not to get into too much trouble or if he did at least call Shin'ichi.

Which brought another problem, Shin’ichi sucks at lying, and lying to the King of Pranks and Lies? Not a good idea. Kaito would call on him faster than he can point fingers.

They had each other’s numbers memorized, just in case one doesn’t have their phone.

But what use was that when his phone itself was thoroughly reduced to a crushed, wrecked mess?

What use was that when Kaito would surely notice that his voice is produced by a voice-changer and would try to get himself involved?

He just couldn’t risk it.

That was why even though he now had a new number, he still hadn’t told him anything.

However, he had to make sure he wouldn’t be found out as a Sentinel-6, Kaito would be the first assistance that would respond. If the Guide were to go in his mind—without a doubt, he will find out. Maybe not immediately, but he will.

After all, no matter what his physical stature said, his mind space would remain the same.

|To Be Continued|

Chapter Text

|Servitude 101; Serving Spoiled Brats, How to|

(Random Idea 10)

Rei braces and tries to keep himself as calm as possible, willing himself to keep his posture lax but no less proper than it should as he stood straight, a step behind his seated master. Trying to keep his breathing even as he forced the ever-familiar boiling sensation curling in his veins.

He wills himself to ignore how that damned butler’s lips twitched to an infuriating smirk at him—the nerve—who stood right across from him, two distanced tables in-between them.

Noting the slight shift from his Master, he leans down, not a step, nor hair out of place.

(Of course, no butler of the Wisteria Branch would dare to be any less presentable, that’d be a crime—for what it’s worth, but the disappointed stares one would get is enough to cow anyone.

Especially his Master—the boy may be young, but it doesn’t make him any less ruthless.)

“Did something happen, Bourbon? You’re tense.” as expected of his Master—noticing even without looking. His Lord’s voice was low, barely audible—but seeing as he spoke in their native language than the general rule of English, it was obvious—not that he could say he was a stickler for the rules without sounding like a major hypocrite.

“Ah, rest assured, it’s nothing.” his Master’s eyes flicker to the Heiress—his former betrothed—of the Rose Branch, seated right across him and his lips twitched to a smirk. The Lady must have noticed because she smirked right back.

“Of course, I’m sure. I mean, it’s not like Rye isn’t across the room…” and gosh, wasn’t that embarrassing?—Of course he expected nothing less from his Master, but it was close to impossible to hide things from him. Thankfully, his Lord only finds it amusing and shifts accordingly in an unsaid dismissal.

Staring hotly at the man—to glare without narrowing or widening his eyes—for a brief second, he looks away to stare in space, willing himself not to twitch when his Master chuckled lowly.

Was it just him, or was the Heir of the Clover Branch staring at them—no, his Master?

-

The gathering couldn’t have ended any sooner, he would have sighed in relief if not for the fact that there were still many nobles and their servants roaming about the halls, so he keeps his amiable pleasant smile, nodding (a butler only bows to their Master) silent acknowledgments at his fellow butlers and their Masters when they greet his own.

Not that those filthy old men could ever hope to stand on equal foot with his Master.

“And here I’d be insulted that you didn’t greet me, had I not know any better. Lord Silver Bullet.” Rei sighs and Bourbon stops in time to keep the standard two and a half step distance—also tempted to strangle the Lady, her butler has been rubbing off on her—after all it was against the rules to be in front of your Master unless you’re opening doors or getting something for them.

(Well, his Master didn’t really adhere to that and he said as much, however, social reputation was a different matter all-together.)

But of course, he needed not to worry, his Master merely tilts his body—his back to him, to greet the Lady in a way that wouldn’t even be considered as less than polite; it was less formal for an actual greeting, but it wasn’t an overly informal one either. It was, however, expected of a Lady and her Betrothed—though she and his Master have mutually broken it off, they didn’t actually find the need to announce it publicly.

It was a useful foil, after all, they could rest assured that there’d be no unwanted suitors unless they themselves decide on it.

“Ah, Lady Sherry…” his Master greets idly, and Bourbon could hear the gossips around them as the nobles gave the two supposed betrothed a berth and space. He could sense some of the Duchess’ dirty looks on either butler and as much as it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and mind to mentally praise his fellow butler—it was the right call, neither Master had dismissed them, it wasn’t the other Master’s right to order them around. Then his Master tilts his head back to have the other butler in his sight. “Rye…” a gesture and he smoothly turns around. “Why don’t you join us?”

Lady Sherry doesn’t even miss a step, easily taking quick, even strides to walk side by side his Master. But neither loops their arms—of course, they already broke off their betrothal, even if they’re keeping the public, not in the know, and they might be proving the factual rumors with it—but neither was willing to pretend that they still were when they weren’t.

He’d praise both of the fourteen-year-old Counts of their brilliance, and of course his Master’s general amazing existence—if it weren’t for the fact that walking side-by-side with Lady Sherry, would leave him walking in line with Rye, of all people.

As they were heading for his Master’s assigned quarters, he notes that the Heir of the Clover Branch was looking at them again, while almost all of the eyes were on their Masters, the Clover Heir was looking at his Master again, just like earlier.

It didn’t help that anyone in the Clover line were generally secretive and mysterious—not much different from the Wisteria Branch really—however the Clovers were unpredictable folk, there was no telling what they want unless they went and said it.

Making sure not to stare for far too long, he makes a mental note to research the Clover Branch again.

…

Kaito wanted to groan.

It was unfair. Honestly.

The Kid Killer—or better publicly known as the Silver Bullet—of the Wisterias was walking Sherry to his quarters, while they wouldn’t be left alone—it really didn’t count when the extra company was their respective butlers. His friends, acquaintance, and even his parents—and their shared attendant would tell him he was a lucky young man. Often testing the water and playing with the line of life and death and coming out alive and most of the times unscathed, it wasn’t a surprise when the media immediately named him the second Kaitou Kid—though the last two letters were in lowercase, unlike his father’s all capitalized Kaitou KID, and the Phantom Menace, not that anyone but his immediate family, and his three close friends knew that.

However, it was times like these where he’d be sorely tempted to sock anyone whoever said that in the face.

The Wisteria Branch—according to his father, was their Yin. The shadow to their light, as proof; his father the Kaitou KID is the rival of the Wisteria’s current head, the Night Baron. They were rivals—and according to his mother, the famed Phantom Lady were also each other’s best friends and best man in their wedding. His mother also shared the same bond with the striking woman, that is Night Baron’s wife, the famous Night Princess—coined from the media eventually deciding that they needed to get better than just calling her Night Baroness, and since she was called The Princess in the past, they decided why not.

He had nearly met the Night Baron himself, was even close to learning the man’s real name not just his public alias and title—however, the opportunity was lost when he made a mistake of addressing The Princess as “Madame” and “Queen” which were apparently her trigger words. The Queen belonged to her childhood friend, or so it seemed.

He hadn’t met their son who is five years younger than him—though he did see the boy when he was seven-years-old and now that he thought of it, the brat for a two-year-old was quiet compared to his other counterparts and age peers.

But alas, to his child mind it wasn’t interesting, because the kid was just sitting there with a book of all things, he decided it was boring—until he turned sixteen three years ago.

He could remember that night with startling clarity as one eleven-year-old Silver Bullet—or as his public alias: Edogawa Conan effectively cornered him on his own show. Not revealing his secrets as what critics would usually do—but he actually criticized his work on how he could have done it better. Not to mention, it was actually the pre-pubescent boy that apparently rewrote his codes so that his own maze set against him and their timing were just perfect.

As if that wasn’t enough to top the cake, Kaito was just about ready to tie himself up and offer himself to the boy—screw his heritage—when the boy complimented him for being original, because apparently his father challenged the Night Baron, but made a mistake of trying to contact the man through his son, it ended with the Silver Bullet cornering his father—the Kaitou KID when he was still seven!

(Apparently, because it wasn’t the Night Baron that showed up—result of one Silver Bullet not telling him—no, his father slacked off and underestimated the boy.

And for Kaito who has been frustrated and trying every direction to one-up his old man, and this boy did it as if it was the easiest thing to do in the world—amazing. Simply amazing.)

Since their first meeting as Kaitou Kid and the Silver Bullet, Silver Bullet started attending his shows and heists with almost perfect attendance—a pun dropped by Kaito and the moniker Kid Killer was born. Morbid, but the fact that it was tailored to respond to Kaito’s title, made him ecstatic with the news; as if the universe had said: Yes, Silver Bullet—the Kid Killer? Is Kaitou Kid’s.

And Kaito was determined, even if he had to wait until the boy turned 14—the proper age of consent and proposal of betrothal—and at least when the boy turns 16 for proper courting.

But of course, the universe also wanted to see if you still landed on your feet when they pulled the high throne underneath you:

Not even a week from that revelation, Edogawa Conan, the Silver Bullet was announced betrothed to Haibara Ai or Sherry. He has personally met her, and boy, she was not a pleasant girl—well, not pleasant to her enemies, but still not quite pleasant to her friends either. But he could see where the two would and will get along, it didn’t help that Sherry was also the same age as Silver Bullet.

Seeing them disappear down the hall after a brief but synced movements that screamed familiarity sorely made him want to weep in his room.

But of course, the universe wasn’t finished laughing at him because the Heir of the Gladiolus Branch—his so-called male best and childhood friend, decided to sidle next to him sighing in a way that would seem he was sympathetic but was honestly just mocking him.

“Shame… really.” Kaito swallows the string of curses and glared at the half-Brit.

“Put a lid on it, White Horse.” Hakuba-the bastard-of course only snorts in reply.

…

“So, the Kaitou Kid was staring awfully too long at your cherubic face, is there something you’re not telling me?” it was expected when Lady Ai dropped the English as soon as the door slid shut behind them, and of course she’d talk about that first.

His Master was hardly unobservant—he was the exact opposite in fact, however, when it comes to noticing stares his Master was more in tuned to notice malicious intent ones compared to neutral—or the disturbingly coveting ones. However, Kaitou Kid’s was one of the other types that didn’t belong to either category, a stare of admiration, adoration, and longing.

He knew that his Master spent his free time attending that con man’s show for the puzzles and riddles—and if he were being honest, he’d actually enjoyed one or two of them. But the Heir was putting an awfully lot of attention on his Master that it didn’t sit well with him.

Had they been in the Wisteria mansion, he wouldn’t have qualms in responding as either Bourbon, Amuro or Rei to Lady Ai’s jab. As it was; they weren’t, he keeps his mouth shut knowing that there were bugs all over the room—any butler worth their salt would notice that, in fact, his Master noticed that the second they stepped in the room.

It was uncouth, but a precaution to prevent any attempts of illegal handling.

(And also attempts of gaining blackmail and an underhanded way to gather information, but they needed to do better if they want to catch one of the Wisterias off-guard.)

“He was?” but alas, since his Master was used to more malicious intent directed at him when it came to other affectionate stares—that he thankfully didn’t lack in the mansion—it took his Master a forewarning to notice the more affectionate ones. “I noticed he looked, but I thought it was because this is my first time attending this event.”

Rei didn’t like agreeing with Rye even if it was just the facial expressions, but this one deserved a deadpan.

This was just ridiculous.

|To Be Continued|

Chapter Text

|X (Placeholder)|

(Random Idea 11)

It was unfair.

It’s not like he did anything bad to warrant this, so why was she doing this to him? He really did think that she was being unfair in her accusations—can’t he just be himself without being accused of trying to be someone else or someone he isn’t?!

It was unfair!

It had always been like this!

Even his parents—!

It was all his fault!

He stops, breathing deeply.

He should calm down, he can’t have an episode, they’ll find him at this rate. Worse yet his condition will worsen if he doesn’t calm down.

It was just the fact of his wretched life.

…

“See? That’s why I told you, didn’t I? It’s simple.”

“Not everyone is of your caliber, and has the same thought process, you are aware of that, right?”

“Of course. But you’re just not everyone, now are you?”

“As if. You still haven’t fully explained the reasoning, behind it though.”

“Indeed.”

…

He ducks down just in time to evade his parents’ sight, it seems they have guests over—well, at least he got back in time, he just needed to sneak back in his room. Seeing the window already unlocked, he sighs in relief. He knew he could count on her.

Still, he wasn’t looking forward to the next test.

…

“As expected…!”

“This is the second one!”

“You must be so proud!”

“Oh, you flatter us so!”

“Indeed, you give us too much of a credit.”

…

He stares down from his hiding spot, looking at how the others ran around as they pleased. Utterly unaware of his presence, or of the dangers right around them. His eye immediately caught sight of the person approaching from the corner of the park, and he heaves a sigh.

Just another day in his life.

…

“If only you—”

“I don’t have the time. Why don’t you take this nonsense outside—”

“Such…! Take that back right now!”

“Absolutely no respect. I expect you to fix that attitude by tonight.”

“You—!”

“You…!”

“I don’t have the time for this…”

…

He’s always wondered what it was like to be normal.

To not be ridiculed for who he is, to be like the others, like his peers who could go on with their day; smiling, laughing, being carefree and having no full knowledge to the extent of how dull, jaded, dreary, dangerous, and how much of a jerk the world could be.

But he decided, he didn’t want to be normal, it wasn’t his fault they couldn’t understand him. It wasn’t his fault that because they couldn’t comprehend, they pushed him around, trying to bring him down to make themselves feel better for their shortcomings.

It wasn’t his fault.

They called him names and isolated him from nearly everyone.

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t want to talk to them, because they weren’t worth the time and breath he spends explaining what they just refuse to acknowledge and understand. What they convince that they are blind and deaf to.

Because they were all idiots in this forsaken world, taking advantage of whatever they can. All because they think they can do it without consequence that everything will work out in the end.

They don’t understand.

Besides, they weren’t the focus of his mission anyways.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|By Kurahashi Sumuho|

(Random Idea 12)

Shin’ichi groans tiredly, nearly tempted to fling the manuscripts together with the paperweight out the window—Sonoko, his self-proclaimed manager already complaining about the fact that he promptly ignored her suggestion to add some character that would be fitting for the next victim. Whom Shin’ichi knew was that whining woman that accused Sonoko of being a thief during their outing on a café last week with Ran.

(Sonoko being a thief? If only. The young woman was already rich even if she didn’t work. Needless to say, there was a low-scale war between the two women in the café—one that he and Ran had promptly put a stop to, lest they get banned for life from that café.)

He wishes his editor would just get here and fast—both he and Sonoko perks up when the doorbell’s ever-familiar chime echoes around the house, jolting up and rushing out of the library. Sonoko, of course, followed—still complaining all the way to the front door while Ran simply poked her head out of the kitchen door and gave him a brief nod, before retreating back to the kitchen.

Had he not been raised by his mother he would have sighed in relief and thanked his editor right on his doorstep, however, since he is raised by his mother. He dutifully ignores his childhood frenemy’s whines behind him, smiling politely as he opened the door.

—it was always a pleasure hearing Sonoko’s mouth click shut.

He was about to greet his editor—until it finally sinks in that it wasn’t his editor at the door, Sonoko would have screeched dramatically and thrown herself on the other girl.

No way. Because smiling pleasantly at him behind the gates was Okiya Subaru.

“Fuck, brat. Your slave is here.” Sonoko huffs out in a mock-disgusted voice while she did find Akai Shuuichi attractive—speaking of, why was the man in disguise?—a close friend’s sibling was apparently off-limits, and she made a show of that by portraying it just like that. “Ran! Your little brother’s boy-toy is here!” she says dismissively, already making her way to the kitchen even though Ran pokes her head out again with a pout and scandalized look.

“Kami… Sonoko, he’s not my boy-toy!”

“Sonoko! Subaru-san isn’t Conan-kun boy-toy! He’s an FBI agent! Oh my god.” Ran hisses the last part.

“And yet, here you are calling Shuuichi-niisan by his fake name knowing exactly who I meant, and you just called Shin’ichi-kun, Conan-kun.” Sonoko smugly retorts while Ran pales and flushes in response.

He really shouldn’t have told them everything.

He still gets Kogorou’s love taps when they both happen on a crime scene—Megure and the others also slip calling him Conan-kun. Ran would spontaneously hold his hand while crossing the road. Not to mention Sonoko would drag him off shopping—even her swimsuit—asking whether or not would Makoto find her attractive.

Speaking of, Makoto would ask him to protect Sonoko—his older sister’s best friend—when the other man goes off to another tournament, even though he knew that said former-shrunken detective’s older sister is his own rival for the black belt, and they would have likely officially competed had Makoto not decided to claim that fighting girls were his off-limits, unless they were a criminal.

That wasn’t all.

Hattori and Kazuha would pat or ruffle his head—the most embarrassing ones being when his male Osakan counterpart tried to pick him up, only to result in dropping him almost immediately—Ran obviously succeeded and holding him straight, she probably wouldn’t have put him down had he not asked. Kazuha said that she’ll pass as she’ll likely end up flipping him over her shoulder (apparently her Aikido training, and carrying a weight significantly heavier than a child would make her muscle automatically assume it’s an opponent).

Hattori also had this dirty habit of leaning down when trying to whisper to him—likely forgetting the fact that he wasn’t quite that height anymore.

The Inspectors, the turned Inspectors from Police Detectives, and Police Detectives and Officers he worked with as Conan, frequently asked him if he needed them to give him a ride home. Even though he was about to get in his own car.

Superintendent Kuroda still calls him the Sleeping Kogorou’s Bag Wisdom.

Megure was the absolute worse, “Stay away from alleyways and shady men in black! Call us if you see some suspicious people!” is what he would say whenever they separated ways.

(In America, Jodie did the same, still calling him ‘Cool Kid’ whenever he or she dropped by.

Amuro—Furuya—wasn’t any better, only he seems to pop up out of nowhere offering him a spot in PSB for Conan.)

Haibara would sit back and enjoy the show, while the Professor now had to get used to calling him Shin’ichi in public.

The only silver linings were the Shounen Tantei-dan and Hondou Eisuke, for god’s sake!

A year and a half that was all he needed to adjust from the transition of turning back to Kudou Shin’ichi. The mental repercussion and physical aspect combined.

It’s been three years—five since he finally told them the truth just a month after successfully taking down the Organization. Seven since he turned into Conan, and they’re still adjusting.

—or they’re all just getting back at him for too many high-pitched “Ah-le-le’s,” “I-saw-it-on-the-TV!” and other poor excuses.

Another thing, by some unknown consensus; he apparently couldn’t properly introduce himself because they had taken to introduce him during first meetings. He slipped one time!

—though unnecessary, with how the media exploded that he and his cousin, Edogawa Conan. Spear-headed the takedown of the widespread Black Organization; rumor has it he was heavily ill and bedridden leading the raid from his hospital bed, while Conan was doing the heavy lifting in order to find the antidote that poisoned him.

The theory that got most believers, logical—since when he returned permanently as Kudou Shin’ichi he was deathly pale and obviously sick. (All because the interview and press conference had a shitty schedule and his immune system had shitty timing.

And of course, a murder happened.

“Black Organization of Crows Can’t Hope to Take Down the Original God of Death!”—and his family… was the rolling headlines for a month. Crime rates dropped by 30% for the additional two months afterward.)

-

It was revealed that he had a low-key PTSD diagnosis according to a check-up after he just had about a paranoia induced panic attack and other similar episodes—as a form of self-therapy recommended by his therapist, he tried his hand at writing. He started with a short story based on his and the kids experience in that death trap treasure mansion of Samizu Kichiemon, which was pretty much child-friendly after his omission or twists of truths to make it seem fiction but not too fictional.

It gave Sonoko some great pleasure at finding out that his first book could be considered as children literature. “Once a brat, always a brat.”

But hey, at least the kids had fun recalling the events, especially ones that took place outside of his perspective. Genta, of course, loved the attention.

When it got to the more gruesome cases, Shin’ichi as Kurahashi Sumuho, anted up the rating of his novels, together with his main characters—based on the whole, and complete Detective Boy’s growth, with a not-so-normal, but normal kid twist of Haibara and himself.

He’d even let them pick their own dialogues for their respective inspired character.

Needless to say, it was off the charts.

(When Hattori’s inspired character came in, fans demanded more—due to the rare supernatural genre introduction. Kazuha’s was a side-kick that is a kind spirit guide and protector.

When Kaitou Kid’s inspired character came in, the internet broke on multiple intervals for a couple of weeks.)

…

When his editor finally arrived, he was all about ready to throw his dignity out the window and beg for Ran’s look-alike—though with a messy hair, to grab the manuscript and have their meeting elsewhere.

In his less child-friendly novel, he was adding a character that would be inspired by Akai Shuuichi and Okiya Subaru, while building the character though, Sonoko suddenly had this bright idea to dare Akai, of all people, to a disguise challenge that she would describe a person’s personality and he would disguise himself according to it

It was madness. (Especially since the man went along with it! Becoming Okiya Subaru really did loosen him up.)

His editor clearly thought the same but she was more amused than anything, as if she’s used to such things or seen worse—then again, her father is the Head Inspector for the Kaitou Kid Taskforce. Not to mention, according to Hakuba she was also the Head of the unofficial high school group that was called the Kaitou Kid Capture Brigade—and they apparently had a Kid-expert in their group who’s now a low-key magician, because he primarily works as a security inspector while juggling multiple side-jobs on the side.

“Nakamori-chan…” he sighs as a greeting at her snickers.

“Good noon, Shin’ichi-sensei~” she retorts. (Kudou-sensei was his father’s—this is why he took a penname, thank you very much.) “By the way, Shounen’s Magazines sent you another request, they were wondering if you were willing to model?” he groans, they were persistent.

“No thanks.” Nakamori nods with a beam, clearly expecting the reply and she just about moved to come in when he finally noticed her company—only to swear his mind froze.

He had expected Hakuba—since of course, they (he and Nakamori) were dating. What he did not expect was another man who looked too much like him, except for the slightly different builds, and the other man’s obviously more mature look (apparently, youth was also part of Apoptoxin’s effects that he and Haibara did not see coming), the all-too-familiar messy hair, and mischievous blue eyes that were edging on the violet spectrum.

There was no doubt about it. This man is—was the Kaitou Kid. And likely the Kid-expert Hakuba has grudgingly taken to mention.

“Oi, Ahouko, the least you can do is introduce us!” Kid whines, though there was more tease than an actual jab—also, why was Kid looking at him like that?—despite their friendship and truce when they helped each other with their respective Organizations, Kid was one of the people that were left in the not-know.

There shouldn’t be a reason as to why Kid should be looking at him with admiration, aside from that fly-by on that clock tower heist—that Shin’ichi didn’t even know was Kid’s heist until Kid mentioned that he (as Conan) wasn’t the first challenging adversary he met—also wasn’t that reminiscent of his and Hattori’s first close encounter?—who's identity he never found out because Inspector Nakamori is apparently still touchy about that.

To him, Kudou Shin’ichi should be no more than just a face he never met during the takedown because the teen was likely tangoing with death on his bedside while giving instructions to the FBI.

—Not that Nakamori, Hakuba and some others knew. There was just a chosen audience that knew.

(It was the thief’s own fault for missing out. And current cover says that Conan is gallivanting around the globe against his will with Lupin III and his gang—who were all too happy to cooperate—if they took an orphan that was coached by his mother, father and himself, and was all-too-willing to disguise, no one else needed to know.)

So, he smiles at the former not-thief and offered his hand.

“Oh, hello. A pleasure to finally meet the famous, Kuroba Kaito, I’ve been hearing about you from Hakuba-kun and Nakamori-san. The name is Kudou Shin’ichi, but I’m sure you knew that.” Kid looks at him as if he didn’t expect it, but returned the smile with his own while accepting the offered hand.

“So, I’ve heard. A pleasure to officially meet you, Kudou-sensei.” Shin’ichi twitches, face scrunching as almost everyone else already inside his house—aside from Kuroba who’s still at the genkan—tried to stifle their laughs.

“Please, call me Shin’ichi. Kudou-sensei is my father.”

.

.

.

Was it just him or did Kuroba just lit up and beamed at him?

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Making Friends; How To |

(Random Idea 13)

“Hello! I’m Kuroba Kaito! A pleasure to meet you~!” it took Shin’ichi a few seconds to finally realize that the transfer student didn’t actually just happened to stand near his table, but was actually facing him—more like, leaning down to smile at him with a beaming wide grin.

“Um…” he starts but aborting it. Sure, it was common courtesy to return the sentiment—also unlike the popular belief (when he’d start looking out the window and seemingly not paying attention), he did listen to the teen’s colorful introduction—who wouldn’t? With a low-scale smoke bomb, confetti, glitter, and doves, who does that? Kuroba Kaito, apparently—earlier, even if he only watched it from the corner of his eyes, preferring to stare out the window, even if he was occupying the seat next to the window seat.

He hasn’t had much social interaction, not since he and Ran had the pleasure (and he’s using that term loosely) of that body drop right in front of them during their class field trip—apparently, running into cases while his elementary classmates were present, even by circumstance, meant that he was cursed or a death spawn of sorts—and was promptly isolated since.

He had seen Ran—Mouri make aborted motions of approaching him, but their primary school girl groupies, pulled her and Sonoko—Suzuki away—and he has taken to avoiding them since. While their classmates had long since matured pass their middle school years, the rumors and isolation had left an impact. He does, solve cases that he happens upon, but he only needed a bare minimum of effort to speak it out anyways. Division One truly was a blessing.

However, he has long since learned that interacting with his peers was much different than interacting with fully-fledged inspectors, police detectives and forensic officers.

—and what was the point of trying to interact with people that generally feared you while you were within meter radius?

However, there was no way the transfer student would know that—though from their classmate’s aborted movements, and fearful stares while badly pretending not to look at them (he’s honestly insulted, his mother was an actress! Seriously…) as the new kid cheerfully greets him, also clearly expecting a response—oh yeah.

“Hard not to remember your name.” Considering how extravagant you made your introduction, though I’m sure Seto-sensei of the science class this afternoon won’t appreciate that. Kuroba brightens even more—if that was possible as if Shin’ichi had just given him his Christmas Gift early, and it was still June.

“So you were paying attention~!”

Of course, it’s in his obligations—his job description to always pay attention, and observe. He already had a mishap of not paying attention to the fact the teen had approached him. Just because it was unusual and completely unexpected, didn’t mean that it couldn’t happen—better yet, he should have watched out for those even more.

He doesn’t dignify that statement with an answer, preferring to discretely glance around the room seeing how everyone seemed to watch them with bated breath, Mouri and Suzuki for one seemed awfully concern. For him or for Kuroba, he didn’t know—didn’t want to know.

And he eventually settles his eyes on Kuroba, giving him a look-over, before promptly and giving him an unspoken dismissal by staring back at nothing—even if the angle of his head left him like he was looking outside of the room.

“So, what’s your name~?” did the other teen constantly bounce on the balls of his feet and drawl every sing-sang-ed words?

Also, apparently the silent message Shin’ichi tried to give him was either missed or ignored, for some reason, Shin’ichi felt it was the latter.

…also, who hasn’t heard of him?

“Shin’ichi… Kudou Shin’ichi.” Kuroba beams again—was his natural setting a cheer and smile? Someone, tone down the brightness, please.

“A pleasure to meet you, Shin’ichi-kun~” has he not heard of him, really? Rumors were especially strong on that one. The reason, despite how he and Division One seems to get along, with a fairly camaraderie dynamic, they didn’t call him by his first name because calling his name apparently made his curse stronger—backed by the fact that Ran was calling his name when that body dropped, or that time when she just cheerfully addressed him in that café and some guy slumped over.

No one disguised their horrified, aborted near-silent gasp. But he heard it anyways, and he forces himself not to meet anyone’s eyes for the remainder of the day.

Because surely, Kuroba was messing with him. There was no way in hell that Kuroba didn’t know about him.

Like Nakamichi, or some other student. Bullies. As usual. Kuroba was no different.

—and has he mentioned that they look eerily alike?

Exactly, impossible.

He ignores the class for the rest of the day, keeping half an ear on their teacher’s lectures—ever since the rumor’s of his supposed origins broke out, no sane lecturer called upon him, unless absolutely necessary during class recitations. Some even simply skipped him while giving him the marks of the highest oral reciter, or higher than that.

(He doesn’t see how Kaito’s face flickered into a deep scowl, mentally glaring at everyone in the vicinity having seen the dull, glazed look in his eyes.

He doesn’t notice how Kuroba’s dark blue eyes, darkened even further—that the easily mistaken pair of indigos were almost black, even as he kept a tight smile on his face.)

| Released |

Chapter Text

|Deity’s Heir|

(Random Idea 14)

Conan sighs when his recent unseen, metaphysical stalker stopped at the corner of an intersection, his hooded head—face covered in shadows—turned to the left of the street. He nearly groans, when apparently noticing him staring, the figure faced him with a tilted head like a curious puppy asking its owner why was he stalling for, also urging him to go.

He refrains because it was weird and creepy enough when he started staring into “space” that he knew he should get a move on.

He cranks up his acting skills, pretending to have dropped something on a sidewalk that he hadn’t even crossed today to follow the shadowy cloaked figure as it floated quickly down the street. Leaving mist-like shadowy broken trails that seemed to tear off his cloak.

The figure stops right in front of a café, already pulling out his over-sized but stylish scythe from the insides of his robe sleeve where it shouldn’t even fit, much less be hidden in.

—but he doubts anything was impossible for this entity. Not when he personally saw the entity phase through a sold wall.

-

It was almost like an established unspoken routine for him to put on his gloves—because using his handkerchief all the time was getting old and unhygienic—and he just about finished putting on the pair when a resounding scream echoed through the street. The figure leads the way to the café’s “Employees Only” room, phasing through the crowd, while he had to skirt around them as fast as he could. (The only times he’s grateful for his small stature.)

…because it was unpleasant becoming intangible and phasing through solid objects and people. No matter how convenient. (Especially since everybody seems to buy his “I’ve been here since earlier, didn’t you see me?” bullshit.)

He didn’t even need to check the victim’s vitals, seeing as the entity that had taken to follow him around had already pulled out a soft glowing ball of light that shifted between colors—knowledge; knew too much then, poisoned, acquaintance, murder—that looped, from the victim’s mouth and to cage that in a glass jar so it wouldn’t fly around the room erratically. (It happened once when they were alone and he accidentally spoke to the entity, shocking it and making it drop the jar that seemed to instigate a fright on the soul making it grow sugar-rush crazy bouncing all over the room, and through other rooms—though never escaping the house.

It was a comical sight with how the entity flustered and flailed after it, also occasionally bumping into walls when it didn’t expect the soul to just phase through, or go through walls by overreaching when it didn’t.

The entity skulked when he accidentally snorted, sulking at the corners and his peripherals as if it was affronted.)

The victim was dead, so he calls Division One.

…

It wasn’t always like that.

Conan could remember being unamused and rethinking what his life has come to.

As if it wasn’t enough that he was shrunk, and stumbling cases upon cases every turn he takes. He has started to see a cloaked figure in every crime scene that involves death—one that seems to invisible to others. Following him around even—he’s starting to think that Inspector Megure wasn’t actually far from the truth when he accused him of being followed by the God of Death—when there isn’t (a case or death).

It even, honest to god, stopped him from walking past a street by abruptly grabbing his shoulder, stepping in front of him and point down the adjacent street, holding up three skeletal fingers hidden under a pair of see-through dark colored gloves that he soon realized were seconds counting down, a scream resounding the moment it hit zero.

He somehow wasn’t surprised to find the dead body.

…and what do you know? It was murder.

-

That was the first time he finally made sense of the occasional glimpse of this shadowy entity that had come in his life. However, ever since that revelation—he could constantly see it. Seeing the being pull out souls after removing his gloves from the former living was disturbing since he just saw them take or heave (sometimes they don’t even succeed that) their last breath as soon as the soul’s connection is cut from the body. The being would put the souls in a jar until he solves the case—if it was murder—after that, it would go in the being’s scythe which glowed faintly upon contact before dimming back to normal.

He soon learned the meaning of the color shifting of those softly glowing balls (souls), categorizing each and every color combination. Matching it to the circumstances and situation, while the colors played in a loop—the light flickering out to signify the end of the loop.

The order was always why they died, what killed them, who was the reason they died, and how they died.

Motive, cause of death, the relation of the deceased to someone or the culprit, and death identification (whether or not they were murdered, or was it an accident, suicide, or other natural causes.)

The moment he understood, he regretted it—while convenient, it also felt like he was cheating and something else equally dark.

(He soon understood the negative feeling, when he nearly forgot his own ethics in a case.)

…

He learned that the moment he started seeing glowing orbs on the center of a person’s torso—it meant that they were about to die, the brighter it got—the higher the possibility, until the moment that they do die. Almost like a warning of sorts.

If it started out small and grew bigger—until it was about the size of a tennis ball meant it was an accident or mother nature waiting to happen.

If it erratically fluctuated in size; it was illness.

If it fluctuated slowly it was either of old age or just that the body cave-in and died for some unknown reason—body shutting down, even if the deceased had a spotless health record.

If it fluctuated with ripples, almost like a target, it was murder.

If it flickered in and out of existence, glowing brightly, then fizzling out—it was suicide.

—much like how it would shift between colors to tell him how they were killed, even if the first few didn’t stick around for long; it would shift between the colors for why and how they wanted to die. It was heart-wrenching and frightening how he realized he knew how they would kill themselves before they even tried it.

While the shifting of the colors didn’t really specify much, it was easier to deduce it with their surroundings—even easier if he got to know the person. It was with frayed nerves, anxiety, and a mixed feeling of nausea and vertigo, while his heart pounded in his ears that he somehow managed to talk a suicidal out of committing suicide.

It still baffles him to this day, and he noted what the flickering out of the glowing orb in a person’s chest meant their death was postponed.

(He wasn’t naïve enough to think they wouldn’t die.)

-

A color that starts with white and blinks rapidly through the color codes (unlike the gradient-like swipe shifting) meant he could still save the person on the brink of death, especially if the being only removed one glove (ungloved hands—skeletal as they were—meant immovable death)—the moment he realized that, and he only noticed because the soul still had a near unnoticeable string connecting to the body, he had jolted into action—for a small amount of time.

Too early and he could risk the person going into shock—and inevitably succumbing to death for relief.

Too slow, and he was too late.

He needed the timing to be just right, depending on why they were about to die anyway.

(He wonders, without this unique sight of his, would he have saved that man that was all but declared dead had he not seen the state of the soul?

Even if everyone else stared at him with baffled wonder by the end of it. It was worth it.

He saved someone.)

…

It just about nearly gave him a heart attack when Ayumi had a glowing orb that sang in the pattern of accident-waiting-to-happen and started blinking. He didn’t think of the consequences he didn’t even need to see the speeding car coming from the side as he pushed the girl out of the way.

He didn’t even feel the pain as the world exploded and rang in his ears, feeling numb and awfully heavy as he steadily lost consciousness.

The entity at the edge of his blurry, spotty and dimming vision shook its head.

—and were those eyes? The being didn’t have that glowing pair of eyes(?) before.

Haibara’s panicked face soon blocked the sight of his stalker, yelling something frantically at him, before he felt himself slip.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|一(Ichi)|

(Random Idea 15)

Shin’ichi wanted to hiss and swear profusely when he found his phone in smithereens. (Well, on the bright side the information was still sent to the PSB, as it was programmed to, however that meant everything he had gathered is sent, albeit the PSB will assume he died from the alert.) He could have thought it through, however, a simple trod, or wobble sent his head into a painful reverb, thinking hurt even more but he knew that he couldn’t be found in the same spot the Organization spotted him, so he forces himself to trudge to a few buildings over.

He didn’t know how far he got, but eventually his body as unnerving small as it was caved-in to fatigue; and he found himself dropping to the floor, a glance around the unfamiliar surroundings and surrendered to the exhaustion, deeming it enough.

Just before the last of his consciousness slipped away, he heard people yelling.

(And in the back of his head, he pats himself on the back for abandoning his pants—those were too big anyway; his green jacket, shoes, and boxers throwing them inside the trash bin, including his phone—and keeping his hooded blue sweatshirt.)

-

When he wakes up, he feels someone wrapping something—a bandage—around his head, gentle and soft enough that he could have convinced himself it wasn’t there had it not been for the fact that his hair pressed rather uncomfortably matted against other hairs, clumping around and against his head—though notably away from the wound.

There was someone—no, rather someones—talking over him, but their voices slipped in and out of his comprehension, and his head felt sore, his skin itched against the odd-cotton against his skin. And while it was against his parents’ teachings he lets out a pained moan and pries himself to struggle awake.

As if triggered by some chain reaction, the people silenced and a gentle voice started talking to him, asking him how he felt and other relevant questions.

Thinking back on how close he got to being found out, not to mention the fact that Gin thinks he should be dead, he had to find a way to slip into the background. So, on the spot; he fabricates a cover story—but for now, let’s play the classic of temporary amnesia, shall we?

…

The act went off without a hitch, and it stings, because he just lost a bet with his mother—and now he has to learn disguises from her, and he doesn’t even think of trying to cover it up, knowing that woman, she’ll find out.

The advantage of them believing he’s an amnesiac is the fact he can just claim to be someone unknowing of their past, let them build his background, it’s more convenient that way. The disadvantage is—they're moving him to the Beika Police Hospital, and knowing the place rather intimately he knows they would take samples, and it would be leaked that he’s Kudou Shin’ichi, therefore he needed to find a way to slip under the radar completely.

But it would be more dangerous to pull a disappearing act now, so what could he do—

A telephone catches his attention, and he then mulls over how he could—

“Just stay right here and draw something for a while, okay?” the woman that had been treating his head and carrying him, put him down on her office chair and laying down a box of crayons and a sheet of paper in front of him, then going outside of said office—that has no windows to the other room, except for the small window on the door that is blocked by white plastic blinders anyway.

Almost like a coiled spring, he snaps into action the moment the door is shut, he reaches for the receiver, punching in a string of numbers on the dial pad, and on the last digit, the line makes the false dial-tone and listening for the three wavers in pitch—that somehow sounds clearer now, he pushes in the next code, followed by his personal code and the line connects. Ringing twice before the phone on the other end is picked up.

“So, you survived, I’m assuming your phone’s broken?” Did they know about you? Shin’ichi then curses himself for not training in voice modulation—but the man would recognize him, surely? The man has been his godfather all these years, after all, so he purposely doesn’t use the whiny and ‘come-pity-me’ tone, but his lower octave one.

“Yes, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with the silver bane and his dog, though they didn’t recognize me. Not to mention, the infamous Prototype Detective.” No. The man paused that his shock was palpable that Shin’ichi could feel it weighing on him, likely stunned as he was when Shin’ichi first woke up to find himself abnormally smaller than he should be. The man audibly disguises a swallow with a cough as if to clear his throat, then asks,

“Where are you?” glancing at the clock, subtracting that from the time he approximately was knocked out, and taking note of the synced date—which, not even a day has passed, mentally evaluating the distance and the travel time it would take, plus treatment and him regaining consciousness, he answers.

“The infirmary clinic in Tropical Land, the doctor is likely coming back soon, and because I pretended to be an amnesiac—and they’ll likely assume that I’m from some underground conduct, or abused by a neglective family—and transfer me to the Beika Police Hospital in a few, can you handle the rest?”

“I’m on it.” his godfather hangs up, and Shin’ichi wipes his fingerprints off the receiver’s handle and most of the dial pad, before quickly grabbing a black crayon, pulling the phone closer, and doing a botched attempt at drawing it.

He had drawn two other objects from the room (pulling them closer if they’re within reach), and touching other surfaces to make the ones on the phone seem natural when the doctor comes back in followed by an officer.

As expected they were transferring him to the aforementioned hospital, where he is given a bath, a recheck on his body, taking pictures to document his wound and bruises, then they took samples of his fingerprints, as he expected, and blood. And he hopes Kuroda had done whatever it was on his end—because he really didn’t need anyone finding out he’s in an ill-fitting body.

But mostly, because the amnesiac act is getting old and tedious to keep up.

-

They tried to put him under an MRI scan, and he let them—throwing a tantrum seemed counterproductive, not like he could fight them back if they knock him unconscious. And now, he’s catered in a different room while “the adults” discuss the “boring” stuff outside; what an anomaly is he when he wanted to hear and listen to them. But he tampers the temptation down.

Fingers fiddling with the ties on his hospital clothes, clearly they were worried. He manages to not tense—too much—when they opened the door to come back in, glancing up at them, making sure to widen his eyes. The doctor smiles gently at him, as an attempt of comfort and assurance.

“Boy, the officers want to ask you some questions…” and inwardly he groans, pulling up the amnesiac boy persona, boxing up Kudou Shin’ichi’s memories, he allows himself to glance worriedly and fearfully at the officers outside. Scanning them like a traumatized child would before nodding hesitantly.

…

One week and three days. He was ready to burst out of the hospital, consequences be damned, nurses and doctors kept a close watch on him—but thankfully, neither of them found out he’s Kudou Shin’ichi, which meant his godfather had done his part.

Then a doctor comes in with a conflicted look—good, this means that his godfather is here.

“Taro-kun?” he perks up at the given name. The doctor continues. “We couldn’t find your parents, so these nice officers will take care of you.” she trails off, clearly uncertain, and the officer, Kazami—his mind whispers, nods at her to smile gently at him as best as he could. Which is hilarious, the man really was bad in pretending when it doesn’t concern his stoic-ness.

But he nods anyway, subdued. The doctor glares at the man, but there was nothing to be done.

“We’ll take care of you, young man. Please, wear these clothes.” Kazami presents to him a paper bag, glancing inside he nearly groans in relief at the familiar sight of his more casual clothes, with a nod he accepts the bag, jumping down from the bed and into his private bathroom—one he close shut, but lets it open slightly from not letting go of the knob on the right time.

“What is the PSB’s business with him?” he hears the doctor asks—and no wonder they got clearance so easily, from the tone of her voice, she’s obviously a collaborator.

“That’s the PSB’s business.” You aren’t qualified. Shin’ichi hears the woman’s glare, but she clears her throat.

“Here. These are his files.” Kazami must have nodded from the lack of vocal response, deciding that he’s stalled enough, he quickly changes into his outdoor clothes and folding the hospital robes—stopping midway, and redoing it to make it a sloppy fold. Leaving them on the stepping stool. He goes out of the room gaining the agent and collaborator’s attention.

Kazami nods approvingly, then to the woman.

“Well then, we’ll take our leave.” Shin’ichi ignores the woman’s scrunched up face, reaching for the man’s hand and grips it firmly in his, letting the man lead them to his car parked outside—woah, is that an FD-7?!

When Kazami helps him into the back passenger seat, the man slides into the front passenger seat, turning to the blond man behind the wheel.

“Thank you, Furuya-san.” Shin’ichi watches, stunned—while he knows Zero’s name, he hasn’t personally seen the man, nor does he have knowledge of the man’s face—they were against the rules. But here he is, and he couldn’t help but hungrily take in the man’s details, matching them with his mental files, and filling in the blanks.

Taking note of the man’s driving technique, habits—the ones he could spot, at least—as he pulled out of the loading area to the street outside.

“Don’t mention it, it’s not every day I get a request from my junior… so this is him?” speaking of—what did his godfather say as an order to get them to pick him up? “The Commanding Officer’s grandson?” Kazami’s face scrunches up, clearly confused, but he nods.

“Yes…” neither him nor Zero missed the reluctance.

“A problem?” Furuya—Zero, or should he refer to him as Furuya? Damnit, this will be hell to correct.

“According to 4613, he has amnesia and barely remembers anything, not even his name…” Kazami responds, and from the rustling of papers; Shin’ichi knows he’s looking through his files. Furuya glances at them, brows furrowed, clearly troubled himself—neither of them were paying him any attention—which Shin’ichi wasn’t too ashamed to take advantage of, they were presenting him an ample moment to eavesdrop, who was he to not take advantage?

“May I?” Furuya asks, voice even. Kazami nods, and Furuya takes quick glances on the street and on the files. His expression getting tighter and tighter—Shin’ichi wonders what’s actually written there, he could deduce what’s on there, however, he doesn’t know Zero enough to know what would tick the man off.

“That’s…” not good… Shin’ichi mentally fills in when the man doesn’t continue, deciding to focus on driving instead. Then an idea couldn’t help but bloom in his mind, glancing at the back of the men’s heads, he inwardly smirks.

-

Furuya gets out of his car first, as Kazami helps him out—though unnecessary, Shin’ichi lets the man assist him since he was just doing his job. “Are you alright?”

—apparently, they just noticed how he’s too quiet for a child, and Shin’ichi finds that hilarious—

“Oh, he’s just fine.” Shin’ichi smirks, hearing the man’s voice.

“Commander…” both Zero and Kazami tenses, clearly having not seen the man, squaring their shoulders with a nod of acknowledgment and respect. Feeling Kazami’s arms slack around him, he bends his body, forcing the man to let him go, flipping on the air and landing on the ground, and his godfather chuckles. Smirking himself, he turns around to face the man—and sure enough, he was smirking too.

“You’re breaking the rules.” Shin’ichi’s lips quirked, feeling both Furuya and Kazami tense even further, staring at him. “You know I’m not supposed to know Zero’s identity, Hyoue-jii.” Kazami chokes, and Zero is blissfully silent and Kuroda Hyoue, his godfather and foster-uncle to his father, throws his head back in guffawed laughter.

Glancing at the mirror behind their so-called Commanding Officer, he himself snorts at the stunned faces of Kazami and Furuya.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|4194-1412-8106|

(Random Idea 16)

Shin'ichi sighs as he hears Hattori's slew of curses from the room while he was still walking down the hall.

"Hattori-kun sure is touchy." Kaito hums next to him, apparently having stepped in-line with him, their shoulder's brushing against each other as Kaito goes into his personal space to glance at the clipboard cradled in his arm.

"That's the files on the FBI?" Shin'ichi nods and Kaito lets out an impressed whistle. "I knew you were great when it comes to gathering information from foreign secret intelligence agencies, but these are astounding, Shin-chan!"

"Drop the -chan" Shin'ichi sighs, knowing exactly how futile his efforts were. As expected Kaito doesn't even acknowledge what he just said.

"Seriously, how? Tell me did you hack—" knowing exactly what Kaito's question is, he responds cutting the other teen off before he could finish.

He can't be the instigator why the infamous hacker Kaitou Kid tried his hand on getting information from secret intelligence agencies overseas, that's Shin'ichi's—or as he is more commonly known as over the social media: Cool Kid (that is not his fault, his mother started it, or was it his godmother?)—department.

"Nothing completely illegal, I simply forked in favors from the Interpol, and the FBI was all too willing to comply." Shin'ichi shrugs noting that the teen next to him shudders.

"This is why the PSB wants us to remain as Collaborators." Kaito says dryly and Shin'ichi agrees, though he doesn't voice it. "Terrifying…" the teen mutters, though clearly more directed at him and Shin'ichi snorts, inwardly squaring his shoulders. His father does have connections, but his connections were also nothing to scoff at.

He was about to make a response when Hattori yells from the meeting room. Sighing and exchanging an equally amused glance with Kaito, they move.

"They wer' da ones who illegally entered Japan! An' they think they can jus' stomp on alluv ou' har' work?!" Shin'ichi sighs again because while he understands Hattori's sentiment, he really does, however, they are also dealing with a multinational criminal, underground organization, it should be right to actually work on setting allegiance with the foreign secret intelligence agencies early than late.

"Ah, is he talking about Akako and Haku-bastard?" Kaito voices, audible but most likely not to Hattori.

"Don't encourage him."

"Well, he's not completely wrong, Shin-chan. However, he's not right either. I checked their student information, migration papers, and other papers… it all checks out."

"You checked it?" Kaito then gives him a dry look.

"You only have Miyano-san in your class… I'm dealing with both Koizumi and Hakuba, ungrateful prick."

"Aw… poor baby, want me to kiss the hurt away?" he drawls, sending a lazy smug smirk at the magician and hacker's way. Who would have likely bristled like an irked, hissing cat in response.

"Sod off, Shin'ichi, please. I can only handle one person with that personality, with Hakuba having that as his default is one too many." Shin'ichi chuckles at the rather unimpressed tone.

"I was here first though?"

"And that makes you bearable and attractive, he's just a stuck-up prick."

"You're also an ass, you know that right?"

"Blasphemous! I'm only the BEST of the BEST!" snorting, Shin'ichi thinks it over, thinking back on Ran and Conan's input about Hakuba from when they met him.

"Hakuba has already met Ran and Conan… he didn't have that long of an exposure to both—" Kaito stares and cackles.

"Ooh, you're evil~" smiling at the other teen, he retorts.

"I learned from the best." Kaito beams at him, and it was worth it, seeing Hattori's irked face that was anted up at seeing them both, Kaito clinging onto him like a limpet with a megawatt smile.

"Kami, Kudou the fuck'dya do ta 'im…" Shin'ichi smirks at his fellow detective and Hattori twitches, making him just smirk wider.

"Fuck, I knew Kuroba was a bad influence on ya." he hisses.

Kaito just beamed brighter.

…

Saguru stares, unable to comprehend the scene in front of him. The day had started innocently enough, then Nakamori-san invited him, Kuroba and Koizumi on an outing with her other friends from Beika.

Upon discrete inquiry, he manages to acquire the information that they're meeting up with Mouri Ran, her two childhood friends, and other friends, and Edogawa Conan and his friends.

That fact that Kuroba hadn't kicked up much fuss should have clued him into it, yet he decided to foolishly ignore said bad feeling.

Until it was too late.

He makes sure not to give away he already knew Miyano during the introductions, he and Hattori exchanged less than stellar words.

However, one he didn't expect was; for Kuroba Kaito, his top suspect to be the Kaitou Kid to exclaim with much cheer, hugging a disgruntled Edogawa Conan and a slightly amused Kudou Shin'ichi—who, according to his superiors in the FBI, is his challenger for the Modern Holmes title as a detective, it didn't help that Kudou's cousin and adopted younger brother is practically a mini-Kudou Shin'ichi, and the teen's apprentice.

But unlike Edogawa, Kuroba kept his arms looped around Kudou's neck and shoulders, face too close to the other teen's face for it to be considered as appropriate.

"Damnit Kudou, control yer puppy-boyfrien'! An’ get a fuckin' room, da bothuv ya!" Hattori exclaims and Hakuba inwardly swears, feeling his mind break.

Hattori may be hot-headed, but the teen should at least be suspicious, right? Not to mention, Kudou, who's apparently Sherlock Holmes in all but blood and name, should've noticed something, right?

He hears his mind crack even further when neither Kudou nor Kuroba move or say anything to dissuade the Osakan's claims, Kudou merely glancing amusedly at the Detective of the West, while Kuroba leaned his weight and tightened his arms around the detective even more.

"Nakamori-san, is this why Kuroba-kun is unlike the other boys of the class?" Koizumi's question doesn't help, and neither does Nakamori's rather nonchalant response.

"You could say that."

…

Kaito snickers lowly, hiding his wide smirk on Shin'ichi's neck making Shin'ichi's lips twitch just a tad bit. His partner was clearly enjoying the entertainment that is Hakuba Saguru's facial expression and the likely breaking of his mind.

And to be honest, Shin'ichi's entertained himself, as cruel as it sounds. After all, this prank is his idea. And as Hattori has said a long time ago, Shin'ichi's pranks were far worse than Kaito's, for the lasting mental impact they present.

(Hey, it was all on Hattori, he's the one that jumped into conclusions that Shin'ichi was apparently shrunken into Conan—and knowing his cousin-turned-brother, the boy took advantage of it.

The act, of course, was revealed when Conan got shot—Ran was in on it, and Conan started laying out how dangerous it was for Ran to find out. And multiple Kudou Shin'ichi—of course, Kaito helped, he couldn't pass up such opportunity—was the result, with a speechless, gaping Hattori Heiji.

Ran, bless her heart, laughed out loud. They did get him good.)

This time though, it wasn't just him nor Kaito in the prank, Conan, Ai, Sonoko, Ran and Aoko are in the prank.

(Even though Ai, Sonoko, Ran and Aoko didn't know about Hakuba and Koizumi being FBI, nor did they know, him, Kaito, Conan, and Heiji are part of the PSB either.)

Apparently, when Kaito decided to hide his smirk on his neck, Hakuba's mind went into another track and he flushed an adorable rosy color, wanting to test how far red the teen would go, Shin'ichi makes a show as if he's affected but trying not to let it show.

It was easy; a hitched breath, a slow exhale, a slight bodily squirm, and as if a reflex to respond to the ministrations. And boom, they have a PDA-act.

As expected, Hakuba turned into a deep red, and Koizumi looks away with a cough and a pink tint on her cheeks.

Hattori was a completely different story, turning completely red before exploding.

"Go' dam'it bothuv ya! Dere ‘re kids 'ere!" which, of course, catches the Detective Boys' attention. Kaito doesn't disappoint, settling himself into a more "innocent" pose just as the kids turn to look.

"I don't see the problem, Heiji-niichan." Ayumi, bless her pure soul, says as she looks at them.

To her, it was just Kaito-niichan being clingy to Shin'ichi-niichan again because Kaito-niichan is a physical person who loves and misses Shin'ichi-niichan.

"That's right, isn't Kaito-oniisan being as clingy as always? There's nothing different from what they usually do." Mitsuhiko adds, making Hattori choke and Hakuba stop breathing. Koizumi stares at them with some sort of dumbfounded wonder.

"Are you saying friends that love each other can't hug each other?!" Genta demands, and god Shin'ichi loves these kids. Hattori makes a strangled noise, Hakuba a winded one, and Koizumi coughs again.

"I think Heiji-niichan's just touchy about gay people." Haibara adds, and yes, there's an evil smirk right there. Hattori makes an aborted noise of protest but is silenced by the chorused disappointment from the children.

"Shame on you, Hattori-nii, you should just let them love who they want." Conan adds with a mix of a matter-of-fact and a disappointed tone. The kids make a determined chorus of agreement.

Hattori whines, Hakuba chokes, and Koizumi completely faces and turns her body the other way.

Has Shin'ichi mentioned how much he loves these kids?

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Detective Tooru|

(Random Idea 17)

Rei moans in reminiscent of the pain that racked his body, a few minutes after he was forced to ingest the pill—

—eyes snapping wide open, he looks around the darkened alley, trying to look for his friend, there!

"Hiro…!" he rasps, wobbling and stumbling as he tries to reach his best friend. Was it just him or were his clothes annoyingly big?

Shoving said thoughts to the backburner of his mind, he mentally celebrates when he finally reached the other teen, hands immediately grasping for a pulse. Finding it—if a bit fast paced—but alive nonetheless, he sighs in relief, only to sense something odd from the back of his head. Brows furrowing, he stares at his hand and arm, then at the back of Hiro's head, neck and shoulders.

Something was triggering his senses that something was wrong. Looking around, he tries to look for their third party, biting his lower lip when he doesn't see Akai, as much of a bastard that rebellious teen is, he's still Rei's friend—not that Rei'd ever admit that aloud, but last he remembered was for their long-haired childhood friend sprinting to buy them time by leading on the silver-haired one—who didn’t even care about their surroundings and threw a knife after the teen.

Only the bulky one and an older man cornered them. He doesn't know how long he'd been unconscious, and he doesn't know where Akai is nor does he know if Akai's alive.

He doesn't know what actually urged him to do it, considering his ever done it while Hiro was still awake, but he cups his hand around Hiro's neck, mentally measuring his fingers—why were they so short?

"Nghh… Zero-o?" Hiro groans and Rei is hit with another realization.

His voice was high pitched, almost like a…

His eyes trail over to the darkened window across them, reflecting back to them their now dwarf-like figures, and he gapes.

…like a child.

…

"What do we do now?" Hiro asks after they both got up and woke themselves up enough to know they weren't dreaming nor were they having a strangely elaborate lucid nightmare.

Rei stares, stunned at how Hiro easily recollects and composes himself, folding up his too long pant legs and shirt sleeves, deciding to turn his jacket into a make-shift cloak.

Rei fumbles, unused to his now short fingers, folding his own sleeves and pant legs and looking at his coat in confusion. It would be too heavy to turn into a cloak. Not to mention, he isn't confident in his skills to be able to navigate his body—

"Zero?" he jolts, tilting his head to look straight ahead and upon seeing bulky pants, he cranes his neck up, astonished by simply how Hiro is just standing over him, natural as he can be as if nothing changed and he was just simply on another day out with his friends.

He resists gaping when Hiro decides that he apparently has gotten his attention and decided to pace around, without even a wobble or stumble, muttering about.

Hiro never ceases to surprise him.

Before he could form a coherent response, his mind finally rebooting—light flashed into the alley from their backs, and instinctively, they both turn to the source while using their hands and arms to give shade on their eyes.

"Oh, just like what he said." Rei was just about ready to bite off whoever's hand that was that reached for them when an awfully familiar voice, one he doesn't hear unless they were talking with Akemi on her rare off-days from whatever institute she attends, speaks up.

"Careful, he looks ready to bite… just like what Akai-kun said." Rei stops at hearing the bastards name until he notices that he actually yelled Akai's name earlier, who's to say they weren't some clean-up group for those men earlier?

Not to mention, Akai is Akai's surname, it could be anyone! But alas, the distraction was one second too many, as the man apparently took advantage of it and grabbed the scruff of his shirt, followed by Hiro’s—who curses himself.

Next thing he knows, he's thrown to the back passenger seat of the car, hitting a body that would be smaller than his, had he been a teen and likely crushing the kid next to—a grunt. And he recognizes that voice, anywhere. Even if it's almost a decade since he last heard it.

His head snaps up, and as expected, his eyes meet dark green-eyes paired with those distinguishable thick lashes.

"Shuu!" Hiro exclaims happily, like an overexcited puppy, and before Rei could fully lift himself off their third, Hiro clambers inside the car, with less grace than he presented earlier when pacing. Bumping into him, and sending Rei tumbling into Akai’s lap, face on the not-child's chest—Akai has always been infuriatingly tall.

He doesn't even need to look up to know that Hiro is hugging Akai, with how the bastard grunted in acknowledgment.

Then he hears a rustle and thumps, likely his jacket and shoes, together with Hiro's and the car door shut behind them, the doors on the front opening but shut just as quick as the two people slid into their respective seats—

—and he gapes at the sight of Akemi's older sister, hair still curly at the head and just short on her shoulders, they make eye contact on the rear-view mirror, and he watches as recognition flickered in the woman's greyish eyes.

Before the contact is cut off when the woman, Shiho, reverting her gaze to the road. Hands on the wheel, he hears the click of the doors locking, and the engine revs up.

"You guys might want to sit properly." Shiho speaks, a smirk on her face, the engine whining in response as if a warning and he and Hiro scrambles to settle themselves. The man next to her sighs and Rei finds himself wondering whether or not this man is his only girl childhood friend's sister's boyfriend.

Any further thoughts are cut off when the car skids to the road, speeding recklessly, with cutting sharp turns through the silent night and streets.

…

"Everyone alive?" the man asks, and Rei feels like his legs are one of a newly born fawn with how weak and unstable they feel. He nods in response, glancing at his friends, he sees similar responses and Akai looks quite pale, glad in the back of his mind that he wasn't alone in that department. He tunes in when the man speaks.

"I told you to keep it slow… you scared them." the man says with an admonishing tone and Shiho narrows her eyes at him.

"I don't want to hear that from you, you're worse. If I may remind you." Rei can't help but feel faint at the implication that there was even a worse driving compared to that one hell of a rollercoaster ride. Well, she wasn't bad at driving, per see. She has some mad, stunt, awe-inspiring driving skills. However, it truly wasn't for the faint of heart.

The man, whose name he hasn't got yet, smiles sheepishly as if caught.

"Aw, com'on, Haibara… don't be like that." Rei's brows furrows, who the hell was Haibara? Wasn't her name Miyano Shiho?

The woman glares at him.

“Whether or not you’re aware of it Kudou-kun—” she hisses at him when a ringing phone cuts off her line. Eyes narrowing at the black phone she nods to it. “You better answer that, it’s Ran-san.” Kudou hisses a curse, before fumbling for the said phone to quickly answer.

“Ah, yes Ran-neechan~?” Rei blinks, dumbfounded at the complete switch of personalities. The man had talked during the car ride, it was unnerving with how calm, and lowly monotonous his voice was, and now it was like he was talking like a child, who was still sweet when he grew up. The man nods, a grin on his face and Rei is stunned by the fact he hadn’t smiled like that to the woman—whom he curiously called Haibara.

“I’m with Haibara right now—no, Ran-neechan, it’s not a date, I swear.” he groans, and next to him Haibara chuckles. “Yes, I’m staying over at—no, I swear, it’s nothing like that!” he whines, and his protests continue for a few lines before he steers the conversation around on the woman on the other end of the line.

“Yes, I and Haibara will be there—” he grunts when Haibara elbows his side, but he continues. “—no, not as my plus one, you know how Mitsuhiko feels about that. Yeah, we’ll see you then, but if you could? We have something to take of—yes, it’s work.” and the call drops only then did Rei realize neither Hiro, Akai nor himself made any attempts of escaping the vehicle.

Akai must have read something on his face, because his hands is wrapping around his wrist, and gives him a firm shake of the head. Kudou glances at them, and Rei stares, because this man is the Kid Killer, and the Public Face for the formerly named Teen Detective Agency who has connections to multiple international and foreign intelligence agencies. And if the rumors were to be believed, Japan’s very own secret police.

And it doesn’t make any sense, Haibara called him Kudou, wasn’t he named Edogawa Conan, though? (Sure, he recalled the fact that he was related to the famous Kudou family, but he never heard of any name change.)

“Why don’t we take this inside?” Rei’s head snaps up to meet Kudou’s sapphire blue eyes.

The man smiles.

…

Rei put on the clothes the woman gave to him, together with Hiro and Akai, they stepped out of the closet room and he can’t help but glance at the two adults that were whispering at each other, faces clipped and grim.

Something must have given them away despite the fact that they approached as silently as they could, because the man turns to them, and smiles easily, yet no less genuinely.

Then the man has them seated on a couch across them, and Rei partly marvels at how much like a mansion the house looks—and from the man’s apparent ease at navigating the house, he owns the place. Inwardly, Rei wonders if the man’s detective job really does pay that much.

The woman, has her legs and arms crossed as she looked at them with a narrowed gaze as if she was dissecting them or something.

“Haibara Subaru and Tooru,” Rei blinks when she points at Akai for Subaru and him at Tooru. He was about to ask what she was talking about because they do have names of their own when she continues as if nothing had changed in his facial expression. “Both of you will be my cousins from different fathers who will be my mother’s brothers. Due to unexpected circumstances, both of you are left to my care as both of your parents are busy.”

“Excuse me?” Rei asks, and Shiho, Haibara glares at him.

“Right as of this moment, neither of you exists, you need to establish your identities. Kudou-kun, you’ll handle the other?” Rei could do nothing but watch as Kudou nods.

“I’ve heard that my father’s sister had a son some years ago, it’s nice to officially meet you, Edogawa Haru. Now… who wants to have a story time while they have dinner?”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Whisperer|

(Random Idea 18)

Conan glared at Yoshi's owner, who by all means, is pretending to be as innocent as best she can and it's making something hot and ugly seethe inside of him, like a persistent and never-ending chasm of copious boiling miasma.

Pinning all her crimes to her cat—

'Is my human's man okay, Shin'chi-san?' Conan nearly wants to grow fangs and claws right there and then, just to frighten the woman. Though he'd rather not end up getting experimented on, he'd like to keep his body as needle-and-pill-free as possible, the Apoptoxin and Haibara were already stretching it enough.

He could just intimidate this woman like how he did on the other suspects, but that wasn't his current concern catching sight of a worried flick of the tail and a twitch of the ears from the cat.

So he pets and rubs the cat's head, running his fingers down the cat's spine, he leans down and whispers.

"I'm sorry." Stay calm. Yoshi's tail flicks harshly, ears perking up, eyes widened and the pupils narrowing into slits. Body tensing as if he's ready to lunge, but stills himself, understanding the message.

'But my human said it was fine to play with him.' the cat whispers in a high pitched whine and a mewl. Conan's forces to keep his face blank, but eyes showing the cat exactly what he wanted to convey fingers making a steady firm grip around the cat's body.

She lied.

He immediately rubs the cat's back, and pulling him into a small embrace, the cat lets out a rumble but stays still.

'What will happen now?' Conan sighs but tells the cat the truth.

You'll find a new human, and I'll expose her to the police.

'What for?'

To arrest her.

'But why? I'm the one who—' Conan hisses lowly.

No, he admonishes firmly, she used you. She killed her mate, using you. Finally, comprehension sinks in and Yoshi backs down, and Conan pats his head with a nod, then he works on the case.

A Sleeping Kogorou, the trick-and-evidence reveal later, the woman is arrested, and the animal shelter agents are about to take Yoshi away when—

'NO! Don't you dare touch me filthy human!' aloud yowl echoed in the room. 'You already have too many scents on you!' Conan would have laughed that is until the cat perches himself on his shoulders, hissing at everyone and anyone that tried to take him from the boy. Back arched warningly, claws clinging to Conan's shirt, but thankfully not cutting through his skin.

Growling and letting out strangled mewls when they tried to pull him off.

'No! I got a new human! Shoo! You already have too many! And the fact that you don't understand me at all, tells me you don't understand the others—Ow, that hurts… Stoooooop!' Conan sighs, gesturing for the agent to stop, when no one moved, the cat visibly calmed down at the sight but remained hanging on Conan's shirt. Sighing again, he gently pulls out the claws from the material.

They're caretakers of the animal shelter, they'll take care of you until you find a new huma—

'But you're my new human.' Conan blinks.

I also smell like other animals though? The cat's eyes narrowed as if to tell him "Duh."

'Yeah, but you can understand me and who knows when I will be taken by a new human again! Animal shelter is just like the human prison! No one's willing to listen to you talk. Only feeding you, letting you play for a bit, bathe and sleep! They completely don’t understand you!' Conan stares before he deadpans.

Why do you know that but not what murder is?

The cat preens, chest puffing out as if to present himself proudly—then someone takes that time to move closer, only for Yoshi to whip around, hissing threateningly and once more digging his claws into Conan's clothes.

Ran sighs, smiling amusedly.

"He really likes you, doesn't he, Conan-kun?" she giggles, and Yoshi beams at her with a quick cheer of 'She understands me and she's not against it that means I can stay, right?!' to him, then another growl at the shelter agents when they tried to move again.

(Kogorou's protests fell on deaf ears, which eventually silenced when Ran threatened him.)

…

“Bad Tantei-kun! Stand back!”

“What the hell Kid?! Why do you even have a water spray bottle?!”

Everyone else stares—despite the fact that both male’s guards were completely open; or seemed open—considering who they are, one can never be too sure. The scene was something out of a bad comedy show that wouldn’t actually get many laughs, but hilarity.

Kid has been known to gallivant like a big-time prankster and magician, and a thief that gives out coded notices to steal a gem and return said stolen gem. But that doesn’t admonish the fact that he does magic tricks to amuse the crowd—and usually at the expense of any of his chasers, well, except for one. And that exception is named Edogawa Conan, or as the media have taken to dub him as the Kid Killer.

Like any other heist, the Taskforce finds themselves unable to move due to another well-laid trap. (The same goes for one high school detective, Hakuba Saguru.)

Then, like the magician he is, Kid uses a trick that involves doves, until a black cat suddenly leaped out of Edogawa’s hoodie, reaching for the birds, startling both Kid and the boy—though Hakuba notes that Edogawa actually looked more exasperated than actually shocked by the actions.

Which resulted in Kid somehow getting a spray bottle to spray on both Edogawa and his cat—and the boy, much to the Taskforce’s wounded pride, likely couldn’t dodge because he was cornered into it when he reached for his cat—and to the scene right now.

“You’re the one that brought the beast here! I knew I should’ve taken precautions when I found out—”

“Yoshi is not a beast! Also, have you been following me?!”

“A beast he is! And no, I am not.” Kid looks away, and the Taskforce stares, Nakamori could even see Hakuba’s deadpan.

“Liar!” Edogawa explodes.

“Oh com’on Tantei-kun, you can sense my presence whenever I’m near! The fact that you didn’t say something about that first is proof that I didn’t!” Edogawa can do what now?!

“I know you did! You used your birds! Don’t think I haven’t noticed them disguised as city pigeons!”

“Now, we both know you’re lying. You never—” Kid pouts at him and Edogawa smirks. Nakamori then thinks back on the files he read on the boy and the rumors around Division 1 floating about the precinct.

“And you fell for it.” Kid whines and sprays the boy with the bottle again.

“Will you stop that?!” the cat yowls, and Kid scrambles away from the clearly angry cat—where the hell did Edogawa get the soccer ba—

Crack!

The Taskforce and Inspector stare when they saw the ball kicked by an elementary student dig into the cement wall, making a webbed pattern into it. Thanking the gods for not having experienced said boy’s kicks and to their surprise—yet not—Kid laughs like the madman he is, turns to the boy and waving a finger at him, tutting.

“Now, now, Tantei-kun, whatever happened to your ‘No-Murder’ policy?” Edogawa hisses together with his cat, and Nakamori is struck with the realization of how both the cat and Edogawa work together, like a predator.

“Who says I’m going to murder you? Now stay still.” another soccer ball from nowhere (where does the kid keep getting them?!) and Kid laughs again, does he have no self-preservation?!

“A~and that’s my cue.” Kid bows after dodging the ball that was sent zipping his way, so fast that Nakamori swore the ball glowed with an afterimage. Kid grins, turning around then, says “Catch~!” while tossing a 500 million diamond up into the air and towards the boy, who scrambled to catch it, the cat also letting out a strangled yowl before it seemingly glares at Kid.

“Sadly, it’s not to my liking, ta-ta~” and the thief takes off—

“You—” Edogawa growls then hisses before another soccer ball—seriously, how many of those does he have?!—appears with a noise of it being inflated in an instant, and the ball is speeding after Kid’s glider—who, of course, swerves just enough for it to miss. Laughing all the way as he disappeared.

“Yoshi.” they all watched with amazement, slight awe and wonder as the boy crouches down wiping some drops of water off the cat staring into the cat’s eyes before he nods, and to their utter disbelief; the cat struts towards them, claws unsheathed. The cat swipes at a piece of string, and the ropes around them loosened, setting them free.

They all stared even as Edogawa sighs, cutting through the other traps to set their fellow officers free.

Despite their silence, they all knew they had the same thoughts as they stared.

What in the world just happened?!

…

‘The other humans around you are stupid.’ Conan inwardly groans, but grunts his reply.

You sound happy.

‘Of course, my human is sooo smart!’ and this is why he never wanted to have a cat, unfortunately, Ran finds their dynamic too interesting to let it go. It doesn’t help that whenever Kogorou protests Ran brings up the fact that Conan’s parents are paying the man monthly; more than necessary to cover for Conan’s funds—the fact that his parents somehow found out about the cat—added more funds to accommodate for the cat.

That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest. Conan mentally slaps himself for whining, and the cat whips to him almost immediately.

‘Why not?! Don’t you like compliments? Is it because the other humans are always bullying you? I swear I don’t have such malicious intent like them…!’ Conan listens half-heartedly as the cat fusses over him, sure the blue-eyed cat meant well—but he can be a bit too overbearing at times.

‘Shin’chi!!! Listen to me… I swear you’re the best human there is, well considering that my previous human was murderer, worse she killed her own mate—’ Conan snorts.

‘Are you happy now?’ Yoshi yips at him and if a cat could beam, this one surely is. And Conan wonders if he has been spending too much time with the fox family that has taken to follow him around, going away at times to tend to the Kudou garden. Or if the Ojos Azules is a mixed breed with a fox.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|A Thousandth Benefit of an Only Son|

(Random Idea 19)

Kaito stares.

Kaito couldn’t help but stare at one of the transfer students—this is the third time they had transfer students in their class, only this time, they got five—

—and what the hell, that’s Tantei-kun!—and he stares even further at the bespectacled teen, then he recalls the other detective teens that also follow Edogawa Conan around, and immediately identifies the Teen Detective group that’s been the talk of the town. It was hard to miss talks about them when they have been steadily gaining attention as detective prodigy-children.

Especially Tantei-kun.

They have been followed by the news and the police throughout their growth. He’d heard that Kudou Yuusaku, Hattori Heiji, and the now-retired Sleeping Kogorou had coached them, not only that, they had unique gadgets that were simply every kid that wanted to play spies to have. Only they didn’t play spies, they were the real definition of it. They didn’t play, they took to their detective roles seriously.

Of course, by the time they were almost in middle school, their fanbase exploded and gained more numbers that were usually only found on celebrities. As a group they had a fanbase, individually they also had a fanbase. And Kaito wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he is part of that populous for the group and one of the rabid fangirls for one Edogawa Conan.

The moniker, Tantei-kun had been given by the infamous Kaitou KID when the man still pulled off heists for the seven-year-old Edogawa Conan. And as much as Kaito wanted to say that Kaitou KID pulled off heists regardless of the boy’s attendance, re-watching the old clips showed just how much his fa—Kaitou KID favored the boy.

And now, the whole Detective Boys—unofficially turned into Teen Detectives are here in front of the class, a couple of months after the start of the class.

Last he heard they attended a middle school in Osaka—for a change of pace, they said. Though like in their childhood how they kept popping up in different regions and prefectures, they still traveled around and solved cases. While their attendance wasn’t perfect, they weren’t doing too poorly either, they were also geniuses in their own right.

—also, it explained the five blank seats, two rows behind him.

“Ah… so, I’m certain everyone knows—” Haibara Ai smiles slightly at their teacher—and Kaito could hear the woman stutter to a stop with a flush—and he understands, because if Ayumi was the local, adorable Japanese Goddess, Haibara Ai leaned on the foreign, beautiful Goddess.

(According to the fanbase.)

“As much as it pains me to acknowledge it, I’m certain all of you may have already known or heard of us, but for formalities sake; My name is Haibara Ai…” she nods, and the others’ follows her lead like a trained young Police Detectives, introducing themselves to their superiors and peers.

“My name is Tsubaraya Mitsuhiko.”

“My name is Yoshida Ayumi,”

“I’m Kojima Genta!”

“And, I am Edogawa Conan…” Kaito flinches when the class practically explodes in giggles, but neither of the five teens was fazed, in fact, they continued as if nothing happened.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ekoda High.”

“Please take care of us.” they all bowed at the same time, and as soon as they rose, the teacher took the lead back.

“If anyone wants to ask any ques—” as expected, the woman hasn’t even finished her statement, almost everyone had risen their hands—though when the boys saw Akako raise hers, regally as possible, they almost immediately lowered theirs.

Of course, Akako would get picked first.

“Yes, Koizumi-san?” Akako rises, elegant as can be as if she owned the world—and knowing the witch, she most likely thought so. And Kaito notes that all of the Teen Detectives, together with the class stares at her. But there was something odd with how the Teen Detectives focused onto her—and he realizes with a start, they were looking at her as if they were preparing to be interrogated and to interrogate—no one noticed, not with their poker faces. And each of them had varying styles, Haibara and Edogawa both have serious depictions—only Edogawa seemed more welcoming, Tsuburaya smiled gently, while Yoshida had an easy welcoming and inviting smile, while Kojima seemed like he was just welcoming everyone to his presence.

And despite being celebrities since their childhood, neither felt arrogant. Sure, they’re confident, but that was it, neither was too arrogant or felt like they had their reputation go to their heads. And speaking of heads, Kaito notes how Ayumi’s ears are pierced with a neutral and dull looking pair of earrings, when he’d actually expected bright colored ones, instead of just a plain looking silver.

And from the shade, it wasn’t even genuine silver—was it just him or was there a small faint scar outline on Yoshida’s neck?

Then he notes, Kojima has a matching earring around one of his ears—and he’s pretty sure that’s against the rules, but from what he heard Kojima had the delinquent depiction of their group—but it wasn’t just him, even both Edogawa and Tsuburaya had matching earrings, and when Haibara shifted, a glint from behind her hair showed the same…

…that meant, those earrings weren’t for fashion, they were for function and practical use. Likely one of their famous unique gadgets.

Not only that he could also make out a faint scar on Edogawa’s forehead, cleverly hidden by his fringe—and knowing their occupation, and how they are shown looking ragged, cut up or bandaged up at times, it wouldn’t be the only nor the last of their scars.

“Last we heard you were attending, Osaka Middle School. Any particular reason why you transferred here in Ekoda?” then he notes how Tsuburaya and Kojima flushed a bit before it went away and all of their body language shifts for a while before Edogawa speaks—none of the usual signs shows that he’s affected by Akako’s allure.

“One could say we are here for the change of scenery, while that is partly true—we didn’t come here to take a break from our jobs either, we’re here to learn like all of you. And we hope that we don’t have to exercise our skills here at the institute.” Ahh, Kaito had heard about that, in Osaka, a student had committed two random murders, just to see if they could catch him. He could still remember how Yoshida had been crying on live television, while the other four glared at the cameramen and nearly everyone at the scene.

It was also the first time he saw Edogawa silently mad, eyes sharp and cold as if they been replaced by glaciers.

“But the actual reason was—” Edogawa shifts again, and Haibara picks it up without hesitation, there wasn’t even any awkward pause.

“—us throwing darts on a map, it just landed here on Ekoda—well…” she juts her hip and Yoshida giggles.

“…technically, it landed on the sea next to Ekoda—and it was close enough, so we decided~” she speaks brightly, a tilt of her head and Kojima grins.

“Why not transfer ‘ere 'fter middle school?” he leans his weight on the left and Tsuburaya adds politely.

“It seemed logical at that time too. Any other questions?” Akako nods.

“May we know the reason why you decided to transfer?” that was true, despite their actions, and rumors of cutting classes for a case, or missing classes because of a case. Osaka Middle School never complained—and that was true if they were blooming to be the next generation of police detectives, who were they to stop progress?

Even the Institute of Teitan’s strict attendance policy was willing to accommodate. But they still transferred.

Curious himself, Kaito pays attention—while it was a downer that it was simply due to luck that they picked Ekoda High, it also felt a lot like fate. However, he was also wondering about the reasons for their transfer. And he notes that their body language shift again—and he’s seen them stay still in front of the press conference on live television for hours, why were they shifting so much? It couldn’t be the stares, almost everyone stared at them during the conference, and there was even a larger number of people.

Then Edogawa sighs exasperatedly for some reason.

“Heiji-niichan was getting annoying, and transferring to Teitan High was pretty much the same—with Sonoko-neechan frequently visiting for the drama club. So, we agreed that it couldn’t hurt to move to a completely new prefecture. Choices were Nagano, Gunma, and Ekoda.” he shrugs, but that wasn’t why he sighed, Kaito couldn’t help but note.

“And you decided on Ekoda? Why not Nagano?” someone from the class speaks, and Akako nods as if she agreed with the question.

“Nagano…” Tsuburaya trailed off, glancing at Edogawa who seems to deadpan as if he’s questioning his life right now. “…we did get an offer from one of the Inspectors to live with his family. But it felt like we were intruding too much, and we believed that it would have dampened the independence experience. So we decided against it.” Kaito believed them, but that didn’t sound like the only reason.

“What about Gunma?” all of them suddenly echoed their body languages and Edogawa groans.

“No… just… no.” Yoshida laughs, and they all seem to discuss and whisper amongst themselves, and Kaito swore he could make out: “No, I can’t deal with him on a daily basis, please. I swear, Ayumi-chan I just finally curbed that out of you guys, don’t waste it.”

And Kaito wonders who was the person that could entice such a reaction.

“Anything else, Koizumi-san, right?” Haibara asks, and for a moment, Kaito swore he saw how Akako seemed to jealously and minutely glare at the tea-blonde haired teen.

“I believe that’s my only questions, and yes, I am Koizumi Akako, a pleasure to meet you.” and Kaito stares at how all of them seem to perk up another shift in body position, side glances before they nod at her, and Akako seats herself. They entertained three more questions before the teacher interrupted and told them to take their seats—and Kaito nearly tenses when Edogawa walked right next to him, staring at him and blinking as if bewildered while the other detectives followed. But neither said anything.

…

At lunch, Kaito expected it when nearly everyone but Akako, Aoko and Hakuba crowded that detectives, speaking excitedly, and asking questions.

“I’m surprised you haven’t pulled anything, Bakaito~” as if he could try a prank to gather attention—not when he wanted to observe them for now.

“Of course not.” he gripes—though, he might have to join the crowd, because the seat Yoshida chose was rigged by a trap he hadn’t removed, in fact, all five seats were rigged with similar traps on the first day of class. Ones he didn’t bother to remove since no one tried anything on the seats yet. The ones on Tsuburaya and Kojima were in the same state. But he saw both Edogawa and Haibara pause, swipe at something before taking a seat.

Yoshida didn’t really deserve such mean prank—

—silence. The group had silenced, as if they were stunned into it, including Aoko, who looked past behind him with a wide-eyed look, including Akako and Hakuba.

Curious he turns around only to see Edogawa right there, and in his hand are the five traps, now disabled. Edogawa stared on, lips tilted and awfully amused.

“I believe these are yours?” he asks, and Kaito could do nothing but nod dumbly, hands outstretching to pick up the brilliantly disabled traps. “Had you changed the string I wouldn’t have noticed, but as you didn’t… I did. Also, from the light dust covering on it, this was likely planted on the first day of class, right?” Kaito nods again.

“You might have to reconsider though, thankfully, I stopped Mitsuhiko from triggering his, he gets easily allergic to certain dyes, so, do consider if you plan on pranking him soon.”

“What in the—Did I just hear you right, Conan-kun? I’d prefer not to be pranked at all, or do you want me to call Satoshi-kun?” Edogawa then whips around, and Kaito doesn’t need to see to know that Edogawa glared at the other teen.

“Mitsuhiko, you wouldn’t dare!”

“I don’t want to be pranked! Why would you even tell him that?!” next to him, Kojima snickers, while Haibara shakes her head and Yoshida giggles.

“You were the one that got the wrong facts into Satoshi’s head!”

“Oh really? You getting along with older officers kinda gave the wrong impression, I’m sorry if Conan-kun’s only attracted to older men.” Kaito stared, wishing that Edogawa wasn’t facing away from him because he could see the red flush on the other teen’s ears.

“I am not! How does communicating with the officers and establishing connections get considered as attraction?!”

“So, Conan-kun is attracted to other men!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t deny it!”

“How did you even get that ridiculous idea?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe offering your relative’s house that was entrusted to you, because you just met a handsome undergraduate student on a case that liked Holmes?” Edogawa flushes even more, already protesting. And Kaito blinks, finally acknowledging the context of their argument, and could feel himself heating up—and an elbow is suddenly jabbing lightly on his side, he turns only to find Aoko wiggling her eyebrows at him. Face awfully close, and all-too-smug.

“Hear that Kaito? You have a chance with the ever famous Kid Killer~” Hakuba chokes and splutters right next to him, while Akako whips to face her with a bewildered gaze, and he notes how the light yelling of the two detectives had stopped, and he could feel his hair prickling on the back of his neck. He didn’t want to look, but he had to—twitching, he turns around only to feel his face warming.

Aoko had been way too loud.

Haibara seems to be even more amused, Yoshida had turned to the other side with her hand clamped around her mouth as if in vain effort to keep from laughing out loud, but her shaking shoulders gave it away. Kojima chuckles to the other side, while Tsuburaya seems to be absolutely smug, two fingers make its way to his lips and he whistles.

“Would you look at that Conan-kun~ another admirer~” he whistles again, and Kaito feels his face warm even more. Thankfully he wasn't the only one because Edogawa looks at him, face awfully red before he looks away. “Can I sense romance in the air?!”

Edogawa whips to turn to his friend, spluttering.

“We just met! I haven’t even gotten his name!!!” then suddenly, hands are pulling him off his seat, pushing him forward then forcing him to bow in front of Edogawa, and Aoko is suddenly talking over them.

“This idiot’s name is Kuroba Kaito!” he tries to struggle, but the girl keeps her grip tight, just as he’s about to prank her there and then. Edogawa speaks.

“Ah, Toichi-san’s son, a pleasure to finally meet you.” Aoko’s grip falters, and Kaito snaps up.

“You know my father?” Edogawa blinks but he nods.

“We worked together.” and that silences everyone and Kaito…

Kaito wants to drag the boy away—so he does, and Aoko lets him. Even if the other detectives followed after them, quickly excusing themselves.

Because if Edogawa worked together with his father then…

…that was when Edogawa was still a child, like Kaito.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Zero of Truth, One of Love, and the Jack|

(Random Idea 20)

It’s a family tradition, is what his mother says.

However, Shin’ichi himself wonders if he botched the rune or the chant somewhere, as a tan blonde teen—roughly around young adult phase—stared at him with an amused tilt on his lips. Eyes a glittering blue that reminded him of those gems his mother identified as aquamarines.

He was about to ask the demon when the door opens, and of course, his mother comes in—takes one look at the teen in front of him, and then she’s shrieking like an overly excited banshee.

-

“So, I have not messed it up.” Rei—as the demon allowed to be his name, nods still awfully amused. “Kaasan said that a Faustian-bond are usually between two contractors of the same age.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“7… I just turned 7… today.” Shin’ichi adds, because it was true—according to both of his parents, a sort of coming of age if his mother’s family tradition usually takes place when they turn seven years old, his father who married into the family (though his mother still took his father’s name) was required to summon his own. His mother has a two-way contract with two demons—both of whom he hasn’t met, while his father is contracted to one—who’s apparently gallivanting around the world.

Well, despite them having a contract with demons that typically meant for them to have a master-servant sort-of relationship, neither of his parents found it necessary to treat the demon as such. As they were apparently an extension of their family. And as Witches and Wizards of the Black Order Clan, it was practically their birthright to have a Faustian-contract.

Rei looks at him nodding.

“Well, then… it is an honor to meet you, Shin’ichi-bocchan.” Rei bows—and it would have been formal, however, Shin’ichi felt a sense of dread trickle up and tickle the back of his mind.

…

Three years later, Shin’ichi—as much as he didn’t want to jinx himself—was bored. Feeling like he’d practically die from it.

Of course, through their bond, Rei feels it, takes one look at him and sends him those infuriating tight-lipped, welcoming smiles.

“Bored~?” the demon—Shin’ichi reminds himself, he’ll have your soul, Shin’ichi—drawls, groaning but knowing it would be pointless to deny it, he just huffs with a nod. And he watches with a sense of steadily forming dread and apprehension as Rei seems to be thinking it over.

“Okay~” is the demon’s response.

(Rei disappears overnight, and Shin’ichi’s not surprised. At his parents' askance, he dismisses them with an off-handed comment of how Rei’s looking for a good mystery for him to solve.

He completely misses the exchange of concerned but amused looks his parents share with one another.)

…

It’s nearly a decade and Rei hasn’t returned yet. But that was fine, his parents didn’t raise him to treat the demon like a servant—even though Rei sometimes doesn’t have a problem of giving him what he pleases. At times.

(With that man—demon—you really can’t be sure. And Shin’ichi’s convinced that the demon is part kitsune.)

Looking up, he then smiles as he and Ran lines up for the Mystery Coaster.

-

He follows the shady men after the case… and he’s really not surprised the “poison” didn’t work. Rei had sent some weird magic spell through their bond and it negated the poison… if only the demon sent enough to negate the side-effects.

It would have been super.

(On the other hand… it might actually just be better this way.

Maybe… just… maybe.)

…

When he officially meets Akai Shuuichi, they both look at each other for a while—and the man might not know why, but Shin’ichi finds himself smirking inwardly.

He’d recognize that energy anywhere.

(Looks like he’s demon was having fun and keeping himself entertained.

Very entertained…)

…

Conan sighs, then he feels the seal on his collarbone burn lightly, and he lowers himself on the table—and he nearly gapes when Rei serves a guest across the room. Then Rei’s eyes scan the crowd before the land on him, and the man—the secret agent, the demon, smiles at him.

“Conan-kun? What’s wrong?” Ran asks, and Conan nearly splutters off before he shakes his head. Laughing it off.

-

“Ran-neechan, you and Ojisan go on ahead! I’ll catch up!” Ran’s brows furrow in concern as she leans down.

“But it’s late—”

“I’ll ask the Professor to pick me up!” and without waiting for a response, he separates from his childhood friend, and towards where the seal is tugging him to. Ran was just about out of his sight when he turns around, when the burning stops—and he’s about to run past an alleyway, that is until a hand grabs the scruff of his shirt, pulls him in.

The ground disappears, and before he knows it, he’s being seated on top of a generator—

“Someone’s been naughty.” an ever-familiar voice whispers, breathing directly on his ear, and Shin’ichi shudders feeling the seal respond and his skin crawl. And he glares at the man, even as he pulls back with an all-too-smug smirk—though with how the shadows practically draped over his face, eyes glowing unnervingly. Shin’ichi knows that had it been anyone but him, they would’ve long since run the other way, screaming.

“Where in the hell have you been?!” Shin’ichi hisses at the blond man, who seems to smirk amusedly at him.

“You told me to find you an interesting, unsolved case that has eluded the police for so long… I believe I told you to be patient?”

“And when exactly, were you going to tell me?!” Rei’s smirk quirks—as expected—and the man (demon) beams at him.

“You—” Shin’ichi glares, already expecting his response. “—would’ve come along soon after anyway. And of course, I was right~” Rei beams…

…has Shin’ichi mentioned how much of a bastard his demon is?

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Silver Bullet|

(Random Idea 21)

The mutated Level 3 Type B MK-1564 goes down with a shriek as Tantei-kun delivers a devastating kick on its head after a double flip leap. The head imploding, the shell ground to sawdust under the boy’s boot. Even with the boy’s grinning mask, he could see the boy’s smirk and glowing eyes.

Grabbing a few samples as instructed to him, he and the boy hears the crunch of fine concrete on another pair of leather boots.

“Don’t move.” both he and the little detective glances at the gifted pair, the teen had his gun aimed at him and the disguised Tantei-kun. Kaito is under no illusion that said bullets will take effect on Tantei-kun. Whether or not they were of the same components.

Conan wasn’t like the other cursed child’s that were immune to some bullets or some weapons. The boy was still normal in a way, the other child glares at them face openly sneering.

“I demand you both surrender and accept your defeat, K-410, K-794.” the girl hisses, in her formal speech, eyes glowing red. And Kaito finds it amusing to see that they actually gave them numbers, and this will be the second time Kaito takes on a criminal identity, and likely the first for the tiny detective.

Even without looking he knew that both he and the detective (who’s dressed in androgynous clothes) are smirking tauntingly at them, even though the Gifted pair cannot see it. Their masks were enough for that.

“Late as always, is it just me or are you slacking off~?” Kaito drawls, pitching his voice to the younger teen’s voice, who glowers in front of him. “It seems to me you guys are getting used to us handling your mess~”

“Hm… possible~” Conan drawls, voice muffled and glitch out by a voice changer that made his voice higher, like a girl’s and disembodied in a way that made it sound like it’s not there.

“Are you making fun of us?” the girl hisses.

“I must say that way you speak is rather outdated, Mirai-chan~” Tantei-kun trills, and Kaito wonders if the detective has caught on to his and his mother’s tone of teasing, had he not known the boy could already do that. The gifted pair’s eyes widened, and Mirai’s eyes gleamed even redder, face flushing while the teen aims his gun the detective who only tuts in response to the threat, shaking his head in what seemed like disappointment.

“Again with the threats, so harsh, the TMPD wouldn’t like that, you know? Pointing a loaded gun to a person is susceptible for a fine.” and while Conan was distracting them, he swipes more samples.

The girl tracks him on his third swipe, and she bristles—like a cat—

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she demands, he and Conan exchange a very slight nod with one another, before they both used the dead shell of the MK-1564 as a spring to leap up to the building, even as the teen—Rikaze shoots at them. At the same time, both he and the detective laughs as they leaped away, Tantei-kun giving him the needed boost.

He could still recall the events that lead to this as clearly as if it was yesterday.

…

Kaito walks through the silent, but busy streets of Tokyo, eyes scanning between the buildings and the piece of paper in his hand—handed to him by his mother. Indicating a map of a block in Beika district, He’s supposed to pick up some brat relative of a family friend who’ll move-in with them. A teen and a child just rushed past him—and he knew there was yet another mutated MK-1564 on the loose.

That was a common combination of their Gifted pairs, the older one the metaphorical leash, while the younger is the weapon waiting to be wie—

A faint rustle, but that was enough for him to spring back and backtrack. Just as a post dropped down where he stood and a Level 2 Type C MK-1564 leaped away growling at him and he glares—it once more leaped away with the gifted pair he just saw earlier hot on its tail.

To be accepted as an official pair, one had to have a cursed child with them, has a good eye, a steady hand and most of all body strength and agility.

Sighing he continues down the street.

(Once again, he wonders why his mother didn’t just tell him where.)

…

No way…

He’d finally reached his destination—but no way.

Don’t tell me… he was about to backtrack the map, he needed to get away, but alas, Mouri Ran must be keeping in-touch of her cursed abilities as she chose that moment to open the window above the agency look down and at him.

Damn it.

He cursed, she must have known, because before he knew she is leaping down—for a second he saw his life flashing through his eyes—

“You must be Kuroba Kaito! Come in! Conan-kun’s inside!” she beams, and in the deepest recess of his mind, he screams.

What in the hell was his mother thinking?!

-

He feels every single hair on his body tense as Tantei-kun stares at him with a sharp look of observation—and it might look like a look of curiosity to others, however, he sees the intelligent glint as the detective studies him—

Was that—

Yes, there’s a flash of red in the boy’s eyes—but how?

Cursed children were reserved for female children, the generation was Kaito’s grandmother—who was one of the first batch of Cursed Children—however, neither male born from a cursed child was the same.

“How—”

“This is why we need your help, Kid.” Mouri Ran sighs and says grimly behind him, and he could see her eyes glowing red on the mirror in front of him. Feeling his body tense once more he spins around to see a worried pinch on her face.

“You know…?” she looks at him amusedly.

“You disguised as Shin’ichi to fool me enough times to know that you don’t need a disguise… and the way Conan-kun looked at you was telling enough.” she shrugs, and as expected of the daughter, sister and childhood friend of detectives… shit, she was surrounded by detectives.

No wonder, he can’t help but think dryly.

“Well then… I guess… take care of me, Kaito-niichan!” he feels every nerve of his body spasm in alarm at the sugary sweet tone—this kid will be the death of him.

He hesitates but asks anyway, apparently seeing his curiosity the glow of Ran’s eyes stops.

“Why me?”

…

That was months ago, still, even Aoko doesn’t know that Conan’s living with him—as she doesn’t have the reason to visit, with his mother teaching him how to cook so they aren’t as dependent on Aoko—and he never knew someone as prodigious as the little detective could burn water.

In addition to that, he woke up in the ungodly hours of the to commute to Beika for Teitan Elementary—it was the first time Kaito heard and seen a male Cursed Child, that even two months later he’s still unsettled by it. It doesn’t help that the boy’s eyes glow red when he smirks—and that actually explains why Tantei-kun would tilt his head down to shade or make light reflect off his glasses whenever he does smirk like that. Only showing his eyes when he’s certain the glow had abated.

Of course at first, Kaito doubted the boy’s actually secretly a girl—that ended awkwardly and he’d rather not have his mother mention it ever again.

(What piqued his curiosity the most was how—how was Tantei-kun a cursed child?)

Groaning and shaking his head, he glances at where the little detective was lounging on the couch reading a mystery novel—one he’d check has absolutely no pictures, of course, a boring book for Tantei-kun and he’d find it fun. When a sharp rap echoes through the door. His mother utterly busy with the kitchen glances at him with a questioning look.

So she wasn’t expecting anyone and neither was he. A glance at the little detective showed the boy wasn’t either. He was just about to answer the door when it clicked open—

“Kaito! Chikage-san! We’ve come to visit~!” Aoko beams as she opens the door with her key, of course, she would, Kaito had actually been expecting her way before this day. It was actually about time.

Wait… we…? He almost didn’t want to, but he looks up and past her—hoping against hope that it was just her father, but he knew the Inspector was in the precinct—and the faces of Akako and Hakuba greets his eyes. He groans.

“Ahouko, why’d you bring the bastard?”

“Bakai—” before Aoko could finish, his mother appears right next to him and smacks him upside the head.

Kaito, language.“ she chastises sharply, before smiling at them and much to his chagrin invites them in. “Why don’t you all come in?”

“Pardon the intrusion~!” Aoko, of course, yells it out that she drowned out their classmate’s voices. Hakuba looked amused, while Akako seemed to be more interested in glancing inside the hou—she could be sensing Tantei-kun. He realizes, and he wonders if it’s too late to hide the boy, because who knows what that witch would do.

Hakuba looks around before his mind apparently catches onto something—he’s met his mother before, Kaito knows that, hell, they’ve all met his mother and Jii before. There must have been something that unsettled Hakuba enough to send him into overdrive of latching on a certain mystery.

“Language…?” he mouths nearly inaudible, had Kaito not learned to lip-read he wouldn’t have comprehended the message—and the bastard’s scanning the shoes. Of course, Tantei-kun’s shoes.

“You have a guest?” he asks Kaito’s mother, well, technically it was them both—but the fact that the Brit was looking at his mother more told Kaito enough that the detective didn’t and wouldn’t trust his response.

“You could say that, but he’s staying with us for a while due to certain circumstances.” Aoko gains a sheepish look.

“Is it a bad time…?” she asks lowly and his mother laughs it off.

“Of course not, you’re always welcome. And do come in, I need to get on with cooking.” Kaito nearly grumbles, hearing the silent message of entertaining their guests—

“You didn’t tell me there was someone staying over…” Aoko pouts and he shrugs, grinning at her.

“You never asked~” Aoko huffs.

“Certain circumstances. Your mother said he’s staying due to certain circumstances.” Hakuba states and Kaito could feel his curiosity emanating through the hall as if trying to see through the walls and unveil some secrets.

“We’re looking after him for a family friend, the son of mother’s best friend.” they all, of course, perk up, his mother is a secretive woman—in fact, he didn’t even know who his mother’s best friend is, even now.

“Her best friend?” Aoko questions, clearly curious and Kaito he knew.

“Apparently.”

“Apparently?” Akako asks awfully amused, and Kaito felt his brow twitch.

“I don’t know who…” his mother must either really have good hearing, that or she bugged the place because right at that moment she laughs.

-

Having no choice but to lead them to the living room, he does—there Conan glances at them above his book, eyes wide and blinking at the sight of Aoko, eyes reddening slightly at Akako (thankfully it returned back to it's standard blue), then at Hakuba—it stayed.

Of fucking course… Kaito inwardly groans, and could do nothing but watch as the boy slips in a bookmark and gently shut his book to put it aside with a smile.

“Hello, and it’s nice to see you again, Hakuba-niisan.” Hakuba looks dumbfounded for a second, stares before he returns the smile.

“Hello again, Edogawa-kun.”

A moment of silence, and before either of them could react, a sharp squeal echoes through the room and suddenly Aoko has lunged at the startled boy and scooped him up into a tight embrace.

“He’s soooooooo cute~!”

If only she knew how uncute the little detective could be with those soccer balls of his.

…

“Why didn’t you tell me you have the Kid Killer in your house?!” Aoko demands a second after they’re seated, the flushed boy seated on her lap—having long since given up on squirming out of grip. (Though Kaito knew if the boy really wanted to, he could easily break people’s bones.)

Then she points at Hakuba.

“And you! Why didn’t you tell me you met him?!”

His mother, of course, just laughs in the next room.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Supernatural|

(Random Idea 22)

Rei tenses when he enters the bank unbeknownst to the FBI woman, it was faint but there was a—

Gunshots.

And he had to forcefully keep from reacting on pure instinct and disarm the men that just fired warning shots to hijack the store. All of the normal humans—which should be easy enough to handle, had he not have to comply with his obligatory cover.

While bound and blinded, interesting things were apparently happening behind the scenes—and he notes that the demon presence that usually draped upon her renewed, does that mean Akai was still—no, he can’t get too hasty on that, there was no way he can provide that as proof to the Organization, that’s just asking to become their lab rat.

But not only that, it wasn’t Akai.

Whoever the demon was, they’re inside this very bank, but they were subdued—either they’re alone (due to the lack of violent response) or they have better control than he does.

-

When one of the children—that had been working on rescuing them, was this actually happening? What the hell is wrong with these kids, shouldn’t they have cowered in the first place—was taken hostage (and from the voices, it seems it was the one that usually handled commandeering their little group, and it was cute—also would likely be a great addition to the PSB in the future, considering they don’t get too high profile) the demon’s aura fluctuated as if they were contemplating on knocking the robber out.

And that explained the child’s maturity if he had a demon watching over him.

Unfortunately, the demon was indecisive, too long and an innocent kid could die—deciding to take matters to his own hands, a sharpened claw quickly slicing through the layers of duct tape, peeling the one-off his eyes (he could just mend the mask with a spell later, life isn’t something one can easily fix), he grabs his gun and takes aim.

He shoots the next second when the man is obviously about to squeeze the trigger. The resulting action resulted with the hostages running around in panic—and that was great, he could slip out with this crowd unnoticed.

Before he was about to slink with the crowd, he notes that the child and demon are looking for him—but he doesn’t stick around to see who they are. He needed to make a getaway now.

…

He wonders if Akai’s mask was cursed when the mall his target went to just received a threatening—no, the man is bluffing. He realizes soon after he hears the man spew lies right in front of a detective.

And he wonders just how foolish the so-called ‘Sleeping Kogorou’ is. The child—wait, wasn’t that the kid who was the hostage the robber took and the one that assumed a commanding position with his friends?—is present and it certainly explained why the demon’s presence, while faint, is here.

However, he has no time to fool around, especially not after Vermouth’s update—as he was typing the answer in a stranger’s phone, he can’t help but note that the kid is actually the one doing most of the actual detective work and investigation—no matter, he has no time for games.

Akai was alive—that he’s certain of, but likely his FBI friends had no idea about it. But for now, he had to make sure he isn’t killed off the organization, it’d be a pain-in-the-ass to start all over.

Besides, he has a personal vendetta against them as Furuya Rei and Bourbon.

…

Rei chokes, legs nearly buckling and giving out beneath him at the weight of the oppressing aura in the room. Looking around the dining area he tries to locate the presence but instead feels it lingering heavily around the room. He had actually felt the presence approaching earlier while he was changing into the dressing room for his shift, at first, he had thought it would walk past the restaurant being currently booked and closed to outsiders. But, of course, with his currently plummeting luck, the presence entered—he does, however, localize it around one of the far tables. But from what his slight scan tells him; there were only humans situated there—a few angel potentials too, but even the few angels’ potentials paled to the presence of the demon (that felt too much like death) around the room.

Almost like they were just a few flickering fireflies against the infinite darkness. While waiting the tables, pretending to be an undercover-detective-pretending-to-be-a-waiter he nudges each and every human presence—some recoiled, some wavered, and some remained unresponsive. Like usual, it wasn’t until he nudges against an Earthen Angel-potential that he nearly wheezed, feeling the air rush out of him—due to his current human façade.

Unlike the other potential angels that recoiled from the brief contact. This one tensed up, like a string ready to whip out and snap—curiously, he actually nudged it to see if it was a fluke; only to receive a harsh swat one would give to an infuriating bug.

Trying to be as discreet as much as possible, he tries to get a glimpse of the owner of the aura. For this one is relatively stronger than the others—even if the person is just growing into it. It also didn’t go against the demon’s presence, in fact, it melds with it. It didn’t flicker to avoid the demon’s attention, but went with it, as if they both knew each other well enough to be comfortable with one another.

It was just the Earthen Angel though, next to it is a Light Angel—almost wrapping around him protectively—and another Earthen Angel wrapping both, even if the Light Angel and the older Earthen Angel weren’t the ones to snap at him, and yet both the other Angels also melded together with the Earthen Angel with the demon’s seemingly infinite presence. And that gave him an uneasy feeling. There’s a pureblood, and likely high-leveled demon within his midst, one who likely has a better façade than he does. (It also felt vaguely familiar.)

Then he feels a pair of eyes stare into him for a brief second, and the person looks away before he could even in-point their location. It was likely the Earthen Angel. Looking around as discreetly as he can, he tries to relocate them—the fact that the angel tracked him down with just a nudge meant that they were overly sensitive. And an angel the clearly got along with the demon, taking notice of him—would alert the other demon to his person.

And that wasn’t great, demons are naturally possessive creatures, and sometimes overly-protective.

(Just like how he’s holding Hiro’s soul close to his nonexistent heart, and his other late-friends.)

He’s heard of curious nudges of whom the demon perceives as theirs end up badly from the fallout, and he waits with bated breath and tense muscles for the impending reaction. As clearly the angel spotted him, the demon shouldn’t be far behind.

Seconds trickled way too slow for his liking, but nothing happened. As if the demon just shrugged his curious prod off. Disguising his breath of relief, he waits for the other tables much more calmly.

…

He should have expected it, his next target of the investigation being Mouri Kogorou and few background research had reached him to this conclusion; being detectives in the same area should allow them to run into one another on a case—maybe he shouldn’t have jinxed it. It didn’t help that being in a demon that felt too much like death actually increased someone’s more negative emotions, no matter how faint the presence is. The moment they heard a shriek and felt the rattling explosion. The demon snaps into actions, and with him—he’s assuming for now—the older angel accompanying him towards the source.

Knowing it would be strange for him to follow due to the circumstances, he stays where he is.

And the case goes on, the police are called and the investigation starts.

When the famous Sleeping Kogorou (who he realized was actually the older Earthen Angel he’d been sensing—the mall from before had way to many people packed in one place of the same kind, and earlier the demon’s pungent presence was setting him off) spoke, he couldn’t help but find obvious flaws in his logic and statement—thus, he wonders whether or not the man actually earned his status as a great detective. There were signs about the case, as a demon, he could feel it—and it seemed like the demon noticed something but said nothing.

As they were arresting the innocent man—yes, he does know—the demon suddenly wraps tightly around the detective’s presence, as if trying to suffocate the Earthen Angel, and for a second he worries if the demon is actually going to kill the detective in front of all these policemen, when a strange strangled noise escapes the detective and he slumps in a dead faint. Unconscious.

But he’s talking—no, it’s… the demon. Rei realizes, a possession?

But he lets it happen as the famed Sleeping Kogorou solves the case—and he knows.

Mouri Kogorou and the Sleeping Kogorou are two completely different entities.

…

As part of his infiltration mission, he applies for a part-time job in Coffee Poirot, a café right below the Mouri Detective Agency—and he can’t help but try to disguise a minute shudder. Feeling the trickling dreadful, suffocating and heady presence of the demon upstairs leak through the ceiling. Reminiscent of tentacle-like tendrils looming and waiting for the opportunity to strike down and clamp its claws around the place. And Rei even as a demon, wants to rescue the fairy (Enomoto Azusa) working in the café—if he didn’t see how she is clearly liked.

What? There was no other way to describe how the presence kept pulling at her aura and clothes, begging for attention—then he sees the tug grow stronger and she starts brewing a fresh batch of coffee, and orange juice, while she asks him to prepare some sandwiches.

He understands when she serves it on the table when the Mouri family came through the doors. And the demon’s presence in the room strengthens like a thick miasma wafting in the air.

He does, however, have a job to do—and he does just that.

The moment he approached the demon takes note of him—but where is he? It was looking at him, obviously prodding and checking his aura as if trying to cop a feel.  Curious, Rei notes, he’s curious…

And he realizes that this gaze and aura was one he had felt on his person more than once, and he can’t help but trail his eyes to the youngest potential angel in the group.

…like a child.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Gray Matter|

(Random Idea 23)

Shinichi used to have the common world is black and white perspective that is until he personally met one Kuroba Toichi, who masqueraded as a Moonlight Magician Thief that fought a group of bad men—ones that are much worse than petty crimes.

Two months after their encounter, Kuroba Toichi died in a stage accident of one of his escape shows. But Shinichi knew better, the timing was too soon. Too deliberate.

That was no accident; it was an attempted murder.

-

His suspicion was proven a couple of months later. When Kaitou KID silently drops in his room, a wry pained smile on his face. The man makes a circling gesture in greeting before bringing that hand to his mouth, pressing his index on his lips for the universal ‘hush’ sign.

The phantom thief and ex-magician bows low, and offers a big jewel—a dark ragged-cut sapphire, to the boy. Shinichi accepts the gem, looking down on it. And to his astonishment, the gem that was bigger than both of his hands combined, shrunk down smoothened into a nice round shape and into the size of a 15-ml perfume bottle his mother kept around, right in front of his very eyes. As if expecting this event, Toichi pulls out a silver frame and a chain. The man helps the boy put the gem inside the frame, securing it—then the man wraps the chain around Shinichi’s neck locking it.

The man gives him a card and disappears from the room without leaving a trace of his visit, except for the necklace now around Shin'ichi's neck.

Not that the future-detective would say anything about this encounter.

(Well, he is having second thoughts when someone else revived the Kaitou Kid, but then someone else took the first imposter’s place—only this second inheritor actually lives up to Kid’s name. So, he lets it be.)

…

It was likely some karma—he’s not sure whose, but he’s certain that it’s some form of karma.

Shin’ichi recognized those pair of cold green eyes glaring up at him, even though they currently belonged to a face decades younger and a clearly almost three times smaller than his original size.

The boy was practically swimming in his clothes.

“You’re…” the not-child glares murderously up at him, pale fingers wrapped around a gun that way too large for his current size—sighing, Shin’ichi plucks it off the man turned child’s hands. “Whoops, this is not something a kid should play with and point around.” Shin’ichi can’t help it, he smirks.

Ever since his lucky charm had come in his life, his self-preservation had reduced to near nonexistent. If not completely.

It was by chance that Shin’ichi even noticed him, that night he accompanied Ran to Tropical Land and saw this man and his company in that roller coaster, he knew they were shady people. But he lost track of them after the case—well, technically he did see one of them run towards a secluded location in the amusement park, but he had a sense of dread, and while he didn’t want to pass up with the mystery the gem under his clothes and against his skin burned, as some sort of warning, and Ran took that moment of hesitation to pull him to the Ferris Wheel as a distraction for them both—but mostly for her.

And the gem’s burn stopped.

And he honestly let that event slip from his mind, keeping in mind the more important things ahead.

That is, until A couple of weeks after, something led him to a secluded alley and had the not-boy not moved he almost wouldn’t have seen him.

Even sizes smaller than he was supposed to be that hair and those eyes were recognizable anywhere. And despite how improbable it seemed, he knew that it was in actuality, possible.

“So, what’s your name little one? It sounds like They didn’t like you as much.” the boy stares up at him, eyes slightly widening before they narrowed down.

“You know about us?” he asks warily, and Shin’ichi—had he been someone else—would have likely cooed at the cute voice, quite the contrast to the man’s deep, husky voice from before. Despite the apparent constant sharp monotone.

“You could say that… so, I guess they thought you were a traitor and tried to get rid of you, huh?” the not-boy glares.

“Anyway, what’s your name?” Shin’ichi watches with a thinly veiled amusement, and he senses an ever-familiar presence step on the metallic staircase on the right, above them—but he doesn’t look, he knows who it is, but this one is more important.

“Hori Itoshi.” the boy grumbles, almost mumbling like a stubborn child. Shin’ichi smiles.

“Well then, hello Itoshi-kun. Why don’t we take this talk elsewhere and get you a change of clothes?”

Itoshi glares at him, glances at the man Shin’ichi knew stood on the fire escape stairs before he nods. Whether he agreed or not, Shin’ichi would have still taken him in, he did have the invention the Professor gave him.

After all, this boy is the one Toichi mentioned who was given the codename:

Gin.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Blood-|

(Random Idea 24)

Kaito heaves a grumbling sigh of infuriation. Glaring up at his bedroom ceiling, fingers locked behind his head thinking back on his and parents’ current cover story. Not to mention, his parents apparently got bored while he was still busy with his previous identity, and they pulled off some shit of being Phantom Thieves and as if to add salt to the wound they both apparently pissed off some underground organization—wherein one of the men attempted to murder his father, whilst disguising it as an accident—thankfully said organization, while they believed in myths, didn’t know of the truth that Kaito and his family weren’t quite humans.

Thus said organization fully believed that his father was dead, well until his parents prompted him to revive Kaitou Kid eight years after his father faked his death.

That, however, wasn’t the reason why he felt like snapping someone else’s head off.

As ancient and centuries-old creatures to have roamed the earth, it was expected that they’d have impeccable control over their instincts, especially their blood lust. He hadn’t noticed it during his and the boy’s first meeting on top of Haido City Hotel’s roof, the draft had worked in the boy’s favor and sent his scent away from Kaito—and when the other officers arrived, as he hadn’t caught it yet, the scent of the other officers covered the boy’s, however, the night when they boarded the ship, Kaito had caught whiff of the most tantalizing scent.

One, only a certain breed of special blood typed humans were said to have. They were excessively rare and would sometimes skip a generation, the girl he disguised himself as, had diluted blood of it and an emanating scent. As if the bearer of the scent spent long periods of time around her, and that was fine. He had lived long enough to hold himself back and ignore the scent. Mouri Ran’s blood, while one of the special blood breeds, she wasn’t really the one that enticed him—as proven from when he handed her, her dry-cleaned dress.

However, the faint scent belonging to the other special blood person was still there. But he shrugged it off, it wasn’t important as it was already faint—it was probably the girl’s mother (since according to his information her parents are separated, and currently in the Mouri’s agency there are only three occupants).

That is of course until the boy dragged him down into the boiler room for a talk because he apparently knew who Kaitou Kid was disguised. And in the sealed room, it took no time for the scent to waft into his nostrils. What he first thought was that—as the boy stayed with the Mouri’s, the scent had rubbed off on him, only slightly diluted with the cologne that is likely forced upon him—which unknowingly disguised the tantalizing scent.

Hours later, of course, the cologne wore off, and the scent wafted free.

And he nearly groans, feeling a sense of bloodlust peeking up as his throat thrummed, his teeth throbbed, and he could feel his fangs growing. And he does his best to hold off.

The fact that the boy just kicked and eradicated the wall phone next to him, using a soccer ball, of all things, sent more of the scent his way.

Feeling awfully overwhelmed with the scent, he distracts the boy and makes a quick escape, deliberately dipping himself under the ocean to swim back to the shore—in hopes the strong calming scent of the sea would calm him.

But the damage is done, he scented the boy, and the boy’s scent is now imprinted in his head.

Just who was the little detective?

As far as he knew it wasn’t impossible for children to wake up their bloodline this young, however, it usually was never this potent; as potent as the boy’s apparently is—there was a myth around that though. But he’s never heard of an Edogawa in that line—unless…

Staring at the little detective’s photographed annoyed, deadpan face on the paper he thinks back on the boy’s introduction, making mental notes, he nods decisively, reaching a conclusion.

He’ll find out who that detective is, every last drop and essence of that boy’s life, nothing will be kept a secret from him.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

|Silent (—ced)|

(Random Idea 25)

Agasa stares at the boy’s all too vulnerable form tucked and curled into a small ball in the small space in between his computer desk and bookshelves.

It took a while before Shin’ichi convinced him, but he did.

Seeing the boy, he half-raised, who had never feared, never showed a moment of being vulnerable—even when he made a mistake, he would accept it, move on and not make a big deal of it. The boy, who has practically been his grandson at this point and more, reduced to this… made heat coil in his gut, stirring up that he wanted to tear those men apart for what they did.

The poison might have not worked, however with how Shin’ichi is right now, they might as well have just taken his entire future from him but…

…they don’t realize just who are the people Shin’ichi is associated with.

There was no way, he, Hiroshi Agasa, would take this down without a fight.

For his grandson-in-all-but-blood, he’ll raise hell.

…

Shin’ichi stares as the Professor rushed past his corner for the thirty-ninth time that day, clothes becoming more unkempt every time he slid to his vision and past it, carrying items on the way, but nothing on the way back. Curious, he tests his limbs, when they responded just fine—he moves up, slowly walking towards where the aged man had been slipping to.

Tugging his coat closer—which he soon finds out is a bad idea—his clothes smell old and dusty. Which was to be expected, as it had been sitting inside that box for years. He needed a comfortable cleaner set, he’s pretty sure the Professor won’t min buying for him?

The Professor likely won’t have enough funds, the man does work at home, but Shin’ichi has his account, he could just easily transfer the balance to the Professors, so it doesn’t raise any questions if Agasa were to use his card outside.

That, however, wasn’t his focus. He needed to know what in the world was the Professor up to.

He makes sure the Professor wouldn’t abruptly go up the stairs again, when there’s no sign of the man, he slowly steps down the steps, making sure to keep silent as he went to the basement lab—

—he’s not here.

There’s something tightening up in his chest with that revelation—there were two rooms in the basement, this lab, and that extra bedroom. But this was the only location the Professor could have gone, the extra bedroom had been unused for a long while that it had just been sitting there—

A wall spins open, he nearly tenses, tempted to kick something at the intruder (despite the fact this weak puny body wouldn’t be able to do much damage—) and out comes the Professor, a bit dirtied, and singed? Also, coated in dust and cobwebs, but otherwise fine.

He sighs in relief, and that immediately draws the Professor’s attention to him.

“Oh great timing, Shin’ichi!” he nods indulgently, he knew that tone. That was the Professor’s “I have a great idea, come I’ll show you!” tone when he gets a creative but most of the times stupid ideas of inventions that mostly didn’t work—though, the fact that it did work even temporarily means a lot. The Professor, after all, only started his original works when he hit his 50s, and that alone was impressive.

And Shin’ichi is more than grateful to him that he would indulge the man.

So, that was why he was bustling about, he was working on a new invention… Shin’ichi thought that the men in black had somehow found out about him then pulled something that will end with him slowly being isolated from the public until they decide to finish him off—no matter how irrational and illogical it was.

Especially since there was only one way to this basement—

—wait a second, since when did that wall revolve and act like a door?

…

He stands corrected.

Apparently there were more than 10 ways to the Professor’s basement—which stretched to his parents’ house and had webbing tunnels throughout the city—which is insane. Especially, since three of those led to three locations in Ekoda, and one of them is a public library.

All of it courtesy of his insane parents and their insane friends.

No wonder, Agasa is their neighbor and long-lasting friend!

How did his parents and whoever the other friends are, managed something like this?!

And if he’s reading the mapping correctly, there are even rooms there—inhabitable rooms that varied in sizes, from the Professor’s small lab to his parent’s tea room, as reference, that apparently were supposed to be either a resting spot when travelling the tunnels, or one that served the same function as a safe room.

“I would lend you the extra bedroom… but that room doesn’t have enough space for it, though I’ll probably make something more compact in the near future, but as of the moment. Why don’t you follow me?” the Professor takes the lead, and rather curious, Shin’ichi follows.

The Professor then shows him to this room, telling him the keycodes, and turning on the electricity, and he nearly gasps at the room and the obviously high-end technology recently installed there.

He hazards a glance only to the Professor only to see the man smiling as if telling him to try it out and—

—he can’t help it, he feels way too warm, he hugs the man and lets his smile answer the man enough.

The man pats the top of his head, and he smirks.

He knew what this type of tech is capable of, who was he to let that opportunity slip him by?

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Ōusagi |

(Random Idea 26)

Yuusaku sighs.

He could hear the faint noise of clicking and clacking of fingers against a keyboard from his son's room, as usual. The door opened from the last time Yukiko had piped in to inform their son they were going out. Seeing it had not moved from its previous spot, he takes a peek, and he could see how his son ignored the world in favor of—

—hold on, was he hacking the Governmental System?! 

He takes a closer look, confirming that yes, his son is hacking into the governmental system, again. He groans lowly, and palms his face in exasperation. 

There really was no stopping his son once he gets started, much like his wife.

Stubborn, the both of them.

He was just about to shut the door when the noise stops and blue eyes much like his own meets with his—

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Some unknowns are blackmailing this CEO who’s been smuggling weapons illegally in Japan—who should I side with?” Unknowns… that was a word his son rarely used.

“That depends…” he trails off, while Shin’ichi couldn’t be caught without a computer, or a gadget of sort at any time of the day, similarly he would not be caught in his “illegal” acts—(hey, he wears glasses for a reason, he can’t see that far ahead… he didn’t know his son was hacking into a governmental systemwhatareyoutalkingabout?)—and he decides to ask, “…should you be involved?”

“The CEO wants me to find some dirt on these guys.” Shin’ichi shrugs, and—that actually explains why Shin’ichi was hacking into the governmental system, considering he referred to them as unknowns… which to be honest is also perking Yuusaku’s interest.

It was close to impossible to keep things from his son.

Also, the fact that his son asked—this time—about who to “side” with was interesting.

“Hm…” had his son asked him five years ago, he would have been vehemently against his son personally going out of his way to “side” with someone, in which his son is indirectly asking for his permission to personally go out and see this deal go down with his own two eyes—while also risking his own life at hand just to satiate his curiosity.

(Shin’ichi not only rarely does that but is mostly limited to his own room, the indoor dojo/soccer room/training room they eventually installed in the basement, and at least the house and Agasa’s place—which is right next door.)

Shin’ichi’s curiosity has always been his bane and his gift.

The CEO was clearly the victim of these unknowns via blackmail. On that same note, however, that blackmail content and reasoning on the CEO was less than benign. While Shin’ichi may be working himself into an underground occupation of sorts, having sketchy moral values—from what Yuusaku can observe—at best, Yuusaku also knew that somewhere inside his son still resides that boy who used to wish for the right justice be delivered.

There was that one time; Shin’ichi aided a Russian Mafia to conduct their smuggling successfully, and see to it that they—the Kudou family—had a steady connection and form of protection in Russia should something ever arise, as his primary alias informant handle of “Grigori.”

There was also that one time; Shin’ichi exposed a Chinese human-trafficking, fighting and drug smuggling ring to the TMPD, PSB, FBI, and ICPO under his more commonly used alias of “Edogawa.”

But alas, Shin’ichi was also the type of person who would easily tentatively trust someone but once broken can’t quite return to that state of trust easily, and that sadly included law enforcements after they mislabeled a murder case an accident. Shin’ichi could never quite convince them of that, couldn’t quite let his case be heard as he was apparently a subjective witness and a child—at that time.

And as much as Megure wanted to obviously support his son, the evidence said otherwise.

Shin’ichi lost trust in the TMPD that day, and it was never quite mended. Not only that he treats the other intelligence agencies with grudging respect and much apprehension. And Yuusaku knew, had it not been for Megure physically protecting both his wife and the Professor from that crazed maniac, Shin’ichi likely wouldn’t have created Edogawa.

—as long as Edogawa existed, Yuusaku was willing to turn a blind eye on his son’s more illegal actions.

Despite all that which Yuusaku had tolerated, he was still against his son’s self-proclaimed shut-in life and career, but meeting shady people that are more than likely willing to kill to keep someone silenced and ones that his own son consider to be unknowns even more so.

Thus caught under a predicament, he immediately scans the request the CEO pinned in his son’s ghost website, and it doesn’t even take him long to decide. He really thinks his son should just inform the police about this—however, he knew his son cannot (would not) do that.

For one, Ōusagi is the one called not Edogawa.

Two, the request is in Ōusagi’s “mail”—and while that may not be a big deal to most people, Shin’ichi was adamant in setting the differences between three of his personas.

And three, unknowns to his son, are exceedingly rare. His son’s curiosity had been piqued.

“I’d say you leave it alone.” He honestly, expected it when his son pouted—Shin’ichi can say it’s a scowl all he wants, but Yuusaku can tell the difference that curl of the boy’s lips is exactly like his mother’s own.

“But he’s calling out to Ōusagi!”

Ōusagi… his son’s third informant face. One he mainly operates to aid the underground business.

If Edogawa worked as an informant that gave anonymous tips to the law enforcement both local, national and international—with the exception of “Grigori” that he used specifically for Russia. Ōusagi was the exact opposite.

Ōusagi doesn’t work for money.

One does need to pay him to get him to work for you, but for him to accept your case, you would have to appeal the case itself to him, to even think about making him work for you.

As any client of Ōusagi will know, they will know to do as he says or else they suffer exposure—and not the good kind. For them at least.

Yuusaku had seen the result of someone blatantly ignoring Ōusagi’s instruction.

It wasn’t pretty.

But that wasn’t his son’s question.

“Who do you think Ōusagi would side here?” because if Yuusaku were honest himself, and as unethical as it sounds. This CEO wasn’t an interesting man—while his case was truly interesting, he left less to be desired. Not to mention the disrespectful address he’s giving Ōusagi.

(And as much as Yuusaku doesn’t personally like Ōusagi, Ōusagi is still part of his son.)

Shin’ichi looks at him, eyes sharp and searching for something—satisfied, he nods with a tiny smirk.

“Not the CEO, the unknowns truly are interesting, however… they are unknowns.” Yuusaku blinks, it wasn’t often his son’s tone dropped.

“Potential 6068 suspect?” Shin’ichi nods.

“Well, I know I cannot stop you from going… but do be careful.” Yuusaku strains to stop himself from smiling at his son’s admittedly adorable eye-roll. Not that he could, Case 6068, as his son has taken to call that catalyst case for his distrust to the TMPD—was also a heavy blow for him. Not to mention, a case that also continued to elude his son.

And he knew if his son managed to grab onto some straws with a hint of a lead on that case. He won’t let go.

“So, does this mean Edogawa will be making an appearance?” and he's using that term loosely. No one knows about the mind behind Grigori, Ōusagi, and Edogawa.

No one but himself, his wife, the Professor, the Russian boss, and of course. The mind behind the tri-identity informants.

He didn’t need to look to see the sadistic smirk that slants his son’s face.

The cursor moves, and he nearly pities the man when Ōusagi gave him the politest “Fuck off.” Ōusagi could give to someone.

The man’s message is then sent to Edogawa’s ghost website.

「 I’m sorry, CEO-san. But this case doesn’t sound like my department! Better luck next time~!

— Ōusagi 」

Yuusaku sighs, seeing the words form in front of him—which just curbs his possible deniability—and even sees the exact moment Shin’ichi posts Ōusagi’s response accompanied by his animated rabbit character that actually looks adorable if not for the animations his son added of the rabbit chewing on an appendage with razor-sharp teeth and bloody jaws whenever his son rejects a case.

Not to mention, the absolute bullshit yet half-truth his son just sent in response to that man.

(Just because Ōusagi said it wasn’t his department, it didn’t mean he wasn’t interested.)

It wouldn’t be the first request a client asks Ōusagi to dig up dirt on someone blackmailing them, nor would it be the first one his son accepts out of boredom, nor would it be the last he rejects.

In the end, he leaves his son to it.

Also, taking note to make sure to take his wife out for dinner on the designated time and date of the blackmail’s transaction as supposed to take place.

His son can handle himself, despite the rabbit-esque pseudonym.

…

Yuusaku is certain he’s not dreaming…

However, he also cannot quite believe whatever he’s seeing in front of him. If it weren’t for the fact that Yukiko just punched and elbowed him to prove to her they’re seeing the same thing, and not dreaming nor hallucinating. And they are, and no, they’re not.

His side and should is sore to prove that they’re wide awake, not to mention the clarity of their vision indicates they had not inhaled or ingested any hallucinogenic substance… and his son is still standing right in front of them, only more than half shorter, and smaller than he used to be.

“Shin’ichi…? Mind explaining?” Yuusaku watches as his son’s face scrunches, eyes scanning the closed double doors behind them dubiously, next to him Agasa smiling sheepishly, before his son starts talking.

“Okay, so the CEO was a wimp…” yes, Yuusaku gathered that much. “And the unknowns were far more dangerous than I first anticipated…” Yuusaku can see that. “… I think I may be onto an Organization that has eluded the Police Force for so long that they’re practically nonexistent—”

That… sounds oddly familiar…

“Not to mention, they have the facilities to apparently manufacture without anyone knowing about this undetectable poison—”

His wife gasps and lets out a strangled noise but otherwise doesn’t move. And back up, what did he just say?!

“—that was untested in the field, but was apparently labeled to have a hundred percent kill rate—”

What in the—

“—but I wake up to find myself like this.” Shin’ichi gestures to himself. Less than a meter tall…

…if you don’t count the two long, furred ears protruding from his son’s head… the base of the ear just starting from where his original ears were supposed to be, which twitched and bounced at every move his son made.

Long… furred… rabbit ears.

His son makes eye contact with him—the most eye contact that they’ve ever made this year alone, and Yuusaku is nearly taken aback by the sparkle and gleam in his son’s eyes. The boy rolls the balls of his feet and bounces in place.

“Isn’t it amazing?! They actually work! They’re alive and are part of me, and I should mention the tail! I would change my mascot if I could…” Yuusaku tunes out his son’s rambling, visually taking in his son’s current appearance—and yes, there indeed was a cottontail—and the clearly modified clothes to fit his current state, the implications of such poison with such bizarre side-effects—“…also, I am super-fast? Like how does that work?! I avoided being grabbed by some lousy patrol—”—also, was it just him, or was his son’s vocabulary shrinking to his current appea—on second thought, that was his wife’s personality right there.

“—to get away, but even though that long-haired guy hit me over the head with a steel retractable baton—”—say what now?!—“—and I’m certain I should still have a concussion, but maybe it’s also a side-effect of the drug that gave me the unintentional—”

Okay, okay… he needs to put a stop to this.

“Shin’ichi…?”

“Yes?”

“It’s late, and I’m sure you still feel quite nauseous. Why don’t we talk this over in the morning?” And where he’ll probably wake up from this bizarre nightmare.

His son nods, and he has to physically will himself not to twitch at the bounce in the boy’s steps.

-

He and his wife had changed into their nightclothes and has slipped in their bed when Yukiko speaks.

“Yuu-chan, was Shin-chan really…” no, not now… not tonight and preferably not ever.

“Sweetheart, we’re all tired, it’s been a long day. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

By tomorrow everything will return back to normal.

…

Or not.

Shin’ichi was never the type to jump on his parents to wake them up as a kid. The drug must have done something, because Shin’ichi who has been living for nearly seventeen years did so, only with a body far lighter, smaller and shorter than his original one. Jumping on their bed with an enthusiastic yell, akin to when his wife wakes them up when she’s feeling particularly sadistic.

(Unless she decides to pull one of her own disappearance acts.)

The rattling and pressure were enough to wake them both up.

“Are you two awake enough now?”

And Yuusaku is aware of his son’s sleeping schedule, or rather the lack thereof. And it is with futile hope that Yuusaku glances up, wishing that what he saw yesterday were either a dream or a figment of his and his wife’s stressed imagination. When his eyes lay on the pair of upright black and pink ears on top of his son’s head.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

“Nope! Come on! I already called the Professor and prepared both of you a cup of coffee.”

Okay, so his son is apparently a part rabbit now aside from being drastically de-aged. He can accept that, as Sherlock Holmes’ famous quote says and since he has seen the living proof and eliminated the impossible, it can be nothing but the truth.

He can accept that…

There was something still bugging him though, and it is only when he’s staring at his wife curiously pull on the ears gently to confirm their authenticity while their son plots out with the Professor on ways to hide his ears and tail when it dawns on him.

“You’re taking this well.” Shin’ichi turns to him, eyes bright and sparkling. Aside from his current form striking a strong resemblance to his Ōusagi persona, there really should be nothing else—

“Are you kidding me?! This is the best thing that ever happened to me! I just confirmed it with the Professor, but my DNA currently doesn’t exactly match my Kudou Shin’ichi one, and neither does my fingerprints!” Agasa coughs.

“More like his fingerprints are nearly diminished…”

“I am an Unknown to the system! I’m a Phantom! Not to mention… no one. And no one! Will expect Ōusagi to be an actual child!”

He should have known…

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| OnLine-Conan and Virtual Edogawa |

(Random Idea 27)

Yuusaku thought that it was either his or his wife’s fan base and their more… enthusiastic fans that would sooner or later try to do something to his son.

He was once proven wrong when his wife gave birth to silence, they both had feared the worse until they both saw their son was crying… without a voice.

His son's health is in spec condition, however, it seemed as though his vocal chords were a music box without the comb or the drum to make the sound.

But they didn't let that bring them down, they worked around and through it, raised their mute son as best as they could. He could hear just fine as if in compensation for the lack of his voice; his senses were somehow enhanced. Not only that their Shin'ichi is also a fast-learner and easily stood his ground no matter what. And that was fine, they were both contents to have their brilliant Shin'ichi as their lone son.

And despite his handicap, Shin'ichi grew up well and even had the respect of his former colleagues when he still solved cases with the metropolitan department.

Shin'ichi was no stranger to being kidnapped, he had even experienced an attempted murder when some asshole tried to do something to him as some sort of skewed revenge against the part-time detective. Even then, nothing much happened that raised their fear.

Until, of course, he was once again proven wrong by the universe itself. It happened with a seemingly ordinary phone call from their neighbor. While the aged man seldom contacts them, it wasn't all that strange. He had expected a threatening letter or a kidnapping, either of which his son could handle just fine on his own.

However, when the Professor started blabbing in some sort of panicked hysteria, it was enough to alarm both him and Yukiko enough to move and book the quickest flight to Japan.

And 11 hours were already long enough.

…

Upon arrival, they had all but charged inside the man's house demanding answers, to which the man responded with panicked, and flailing placating manner. Then the man leads them to his basement and the hidden room that was connected to the secret tunnel from the Kudou manor.

And as expected, the man takes them to the secret room that Shin'ichi had claimed as his, even from a young age.

Pushing in the access codes, the door's mechanism hisses open revealing the soundproofed room inside that can be considered as a whole functional small apartment, the lights dimmed that made the blue light of the computer screen—partly covered by his son’s head (and was it just him, or did Shin’ichi look smaller just now?)—glow brightly, even with his son’s back turned to them, he could see the minuscule twitch and slight turn his boy did before the sound of quick tapping fingers clacked against the keyboard.

A sound that has long since been familiar to their family and he expects the standard twin ping of notifications from both his and Yukiko’s phones.

From: Shin’ichi

Subject: What brings you here?

‘Father, mother. Good afternoon.’

Of course, he would. This was Shin’ichi they’re talking about, the Professor, he and Yukiko could panic all they want, but Shin’ichi would be calmer than the three of them combined—if he wasn’t, then they can say for certain that the situation had turned to a grave one.

“The Professor called us.” he says in lieu of a response because not even he has a proper grasp of the situation that led the portly man to contact them. He hears the heaved breath, sees the heavy sigh from his son’s posture, and the revolving, wheeled office chair spins—and was Shin’ichi squatting on the seat? But then shouldn’t his knees or some part of his leg be—

What in the world…? And he says as much when his mind froze to a startling halt at the sight of his son’s scrunched up face in frustration, but that wasn’t all. Even without anyone telling him, and some part of his brain is adamantly yelling that it shouldn’t be possible—

—yet happening anyway.

He knows for certain that the boy in front of him, this child that looks like he just got over his toddler years is his one and only son, Shin’ichi.

After all, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, however improbable whatever remains must be the truth.’

The boy glances up at him with a worried look and he sighs, shifting to the side as his wife rushes forward to engulf the boy in a tight embrace—one that isn’t one of her giddy cuddles but the one that she gave him and her son when Shin’ichi got a rare moment of insecurity due to his impairment.

Another pair of pings, and both he and his wife look at their respective phones.

‘I saw two suspicious men while investigating an unrelated case. When I caught sight of one of them, I followed… but I let my guard down, the other found me and knocked me down, fed me something—untested but untraceable poison, they said.

They know I’m Kudou Shin’ichi.’ Yukiko’s breath hitches with a sharp silent gasp, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and she tightens her arms around the boy—but not enough to suffocate him.

And he too was ready to join when his son’s blue eyes, one that held the knowledge and ruthless determination he’d seen on both himself and his wife, made contact with his own in a fierce glare. Another ping, only sent to his phone this time, a glance and he immediately understood.

‘They mentioned an Organization.’

Looks like his son found a grave case, “I’ll inform your online classes that you’ll be unavailable for an indefinite time…” studying his son’s features he nods to himself. “We’ll move to one of the bases, disguises for all of us—we need to disappear off the grid… any requests?”

‘Nothing else… thank you.’ his son, really is a blessing.

“Don’t be…”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Full Deck |

(Random Idea 28)

This has to be a lie…

This can’t be true…

He can’t be…

He can’t be Rum…

Right…?

…

“You go first…! Bourbon!” Gin was going to shoot, whether or not he’s wrong. Vermouth knew that—and it all happened so fast; the lights went out when the ceiling spotlight fell on it with a loud crash and clatter—encasing the room in darkness. Just before it Vermouth knew she heard a near-silent pop of a silencer-ed gun being fired. And before anyone else—but Bourbon, who just sprint past her—could react, she shines her phone’s screen light on the post Kir is still cuffed to, despite knowing the fact that her phone’s torch would work and just as accessible, if not better. But in hell was she letting this trigger happy moron keep up and get it over his head.

“Bourbon’s gone!” she still dutifully reports, knowing fully well that the said man is hiding behind one of the crates. As if cued, the door slams open and someone runs away, from the footfalls alone she could tell it wasn’t Bourbon either—not when the blonde ran the opposite direction behind her, and whoever his mysterious helper was; ran the other way. Before Gin and Vodka could give chase though, a mail comes in.

Finally…! Seriously he was getting slow, at this rate rumors of him softening up will go around again.

“A message from Rum.”

…

Conan groans lowly, sighing as relief finally filled his nerves. Even though adrenaline still nipped at him. Taking note of the damage, he glares at the retreating silhouette that is the unlicensed military helicopter more than likely pilot by Chianti and Korn or Vodka and Korn, depending who’s shooting. Knowing that Gin would just sit back on his ass and boss them around until it’s time to pull out the bomb trigger.

When the helicopter faded out of sight, he sighs once more, glancing at where Akai disappeared to and making sure no one’s looking, he lets his face fall on a neutral scowl, before pulling out his personal phone—one only his parents and the Professor knew existed.

Before pressing down on one of his speed dials.

When the line picked up, he talked immediately. Keeping an eye on the only occupied gondola, making sure not to be seen.

“Is it done?”

“Yeah, we got away.”

“How is she?”

“Unconscious and fatally injured, do you want me to take her—”

“Too dangerous, take her home and have her treated there…” he eyes the kids and taking mental notes of their current states. Making sure to not eye Haibara for far too long, lest she senses him.

“Alright.”

Seeing the police and the PSB gather around the wheel and the crane—and towards the gondola, the kids are on, he speaks into the receiver.

“I have to go now, well done on your job.”

“Such high regard.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me… also, check up on our other friend, will you? I think he’s starting to feel lonely. I’ll be in contact. Vermouth.” immediately hanging up, he leaps down on some of the beams, slipping away silently.

…

Both Furuya and Akai have decided to take their leave when Haibara walks up to him as he’s slipping on his spare glasses after wiping some soot off his face.

“So how are you?” she asks with a heavy sigh of relief as they both watched the PSB load the heavily burnt corpse into the vehicle under a white blanket. And he could see how the loosened charred hand is lightly wrapped around a partly melted white dolphin figurine—after the; apparently sap of a PSB agent put it back in her hand.

“I’m fine, a few sore bruises, and scratches, but otherwise, I’m okay. And you? I saw you in the gondola with the kids.”

“I’m fine… we’re all fine; if a bit bruised.”

He thought as much, so he nods and watches with her as the ambulance silently drives away, of course, he doesn’t miss her skeptical and wary side-glance…

How long has it been… since she looked at someone like that; in the current circle they know?

Too long.

Was she finally starting to catch on?

Inwardly he holds back a smirk from surfacing on his face.

Things were only going to get even more interesting. Especially with the pre-prepared post he has, scheduled to automatically post itself on the database.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Yoshimasa Cinema; Behind the Scenes |

(Random Idea 29)

Conan glares at the armed suspect right in front of him, crouched low—ready to turn the dial to knock out the culprit in front of him. His other hand already on his belt.

The man lets out a battle cry, charging towards him with abandon, the second the man has half a step taken. He immediately turns the dial and presses on the switch.

A soccer ball inflates and pops out, and as soon as the ball is within kicking range, he aims and kicks the ball—

—just as the suspect fumbles, tripping on his own foot and falling face-first on the ground with a startled yelp, the ball whizzing past where the man’s head was…

“CUT! Mamoru-san are you okay?! Get the first aid!” Director Yamamoto yells from the background, creating a small ruckus as the staff going around the set.

Conan blinks, brows and lips twitching in hopeless exasperation, stepping close to his colleague he crouches down and whispers.

"Mamoru-san, are you okay?"

The man groans but lets out a muffled noise of affirmative, nodding as he gives a thumbs-up, then slumping on the ground with a pained moan.

"Conan-kun, you can rest for a while." one of the staff says to him, handing him a plastic bottle of water. Nodding with a chirp to the man, he sighs and goes to his chair. Seeing his fellow child actor—or in her case actress, Hayashibara Shiho, or as the director had prompted to them, call each other by their stage names, a.k.a. Miyano Shiho, Haibara Ai or Sherry for her.

As it apparently would help them immerse, and it did.

Maybe, a bit too much.

"That was the sixteenth cut on that scene alone… are we sure he’s not Hondou Eisuke?" Haibara sighs exasperatedly from her chair. And she does have a point, according to their quota, she had more than five scenes to acts with him, and four more without. While he had another six more with both her and Mamoru and more without.

Not to mention he still has the voice-over recordings to go through. So he just sighs and sinks into his plush chair, a pained moan and groans that his character, Conan would have done by now, swallowed in his throat.

…

Yes, it was, in fact way too much.

"So, what do you want for dinner, Conan-kun?" glaring at his older brother he growls. “Oh… uhhh, what did you want to eat for dinner, Mitsuo?" smiling pleasantly at the older teen, he cranks up every lesson he’d ever learned from the famed Akechi—Yamaguchi—Yukiko (or, Kudou Yukiko in the series) and beams.

"Anything is absolutely fine, Shin’ichi-niichan. As long as it’s edible, I’m positive that we’ll be absolutely fine."

As expected the older teen grumbles about making a mistake once. Setting off to start cooking.

"Aren't they just absolutely adorable?!” both of them jolts, jerking their heads to the source akin to whipping their heads so fast it would’ve given them a whiplash, and there was their mother squealing like Christmas had come early, and hand-camera recording this very occasion—according to the blinking light, and most likely her loud pterodactyl shrieks.

“Dear, you’ll stress them out, I hear Shin’ichi-kun has to do some recordings, and apparently Mitsuo-kun has other scenes that were delayed for tomorrow?” likely the only sane man, Hideyuki or better known as Kudou Yuusaku, in their family of four says with his characteristic drawl-monotone that still doesn’t fail to relay his awful amusement.

Both he and his brother nods.

“Cona—Mitsuo still has around three more scenes with Mamoru-san, one without, another three with Mamoru-san and Haiba—Shiho-chan, two with Shiho-chan, one with me, and four more voice-recordings.”

“Kami, Niisan you aren’t Horikawa, get a grip!” was ignored in favor of continuing.

“I have a radio corner with Hayashibara Megumi-san, Yamazaki-san, and Matsui-san. Some minor scenes, and we’ll be done and free for the rest of the month…” as long as there weren’t any unaccounted incidents, of course. Then his brother turns once more to the stove to refocus on their dinner.

Conan, or rather Mitsuo, stares at their mother with a sinking feeling, already expecting the lunge-glomp for his older brother with a swooning smile.

“Mah… my Shin-chan is all grown up~!”

“No, mom! Let go! This is dangerous!”

…

Mitsuo breathes deeply, bringing Conan into the forefront, and when Mamoru steps on the range, the soccer ball hits him square on the face, and with a pained cry, he flings back onto the ground—

“And CUT! Perfect! Next scene!” Director Yamamoto yells off-set, and Mitsuo sighs in relief.

“Mamoru-san that was—” and he twitches seeing that the man had actually knocked himself out.

“Ah! Director, Mamoru-san is out cold!”

“What?!”

He really just wants this episode to be done and over with already, the man most likely didn’t have a fatal injury. Kaito-san already told him he kicks hard, but not as bad as his brother—the question was; how Mamoru-san landed himself.

“He’s fine! Let’s move on to the next scene!” and he heaves a sigh of relief—last time Mamoru-san pretended to be knocked out, a shift had three spotlights falling on the ground in domino effect from some of the props scattering around.

-

“And CUT! That’s a wrap! Someone get Mamoru-san some ice and refreshments! And wake him up!” now, he dreaded the remaining scene—how he wished he was just in the radio corner, things would have been much easier, seriously.

…

“Did you hear?” Shiho starts as she slides right next to him.

“Hear what?”

“We and the Detective Boys apparently are going to have a camping scene, and Megumi-neesan will also make an appearance—”

“—as Miyano Shiho?” she nods.

That... sounds fun.

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Linked |

(Random Idea 30)

Interesting… to think I’d run into a telepath.

If Shin’ichi bodily flinched and practically spring himself to the side, the witch thankfully did not comment. Also, considering the faint alluring aura he can sense from her—the allure curse, it’s pretty normal that the first words off his mouth are:

“Likewise, I never thought in my lifetime I would meet one of the Koizumi Heirs.” Koizumi’s company behind her blinks at him, clearly taken off guard at his form of speech considering his current apparent age, but they aren’t important. (Yet.)

The fact that she was able to fabricate a temporary bridge to give him a paper plane message meant that she’s likely Koizumi Akako, the heiress of the main branch and that fact alone sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine, and swear that his hairs stood on edge at their proximity—and from her company’s and her current matching clothing, the uniform he recognized as the Ekoda’s High prescribed uniform.

He knew it.

He and his parents should have researched before moving.

…

Normal humans were… for the lack of better non-insulting terms, weird. Though if the situation was flipped, to the humans, his kind were weird.

The supernatural had coexisted and become part of the public society since the 14th Century. There had been mishaps along the way, but it had prevailed. Now in the 21st Century things were relatively, well, not better per say, but definitely not as bad as the years before. But anyways, right getting sidetracked here—right, humans, in his utmost honest and non-offensive opinion, were weird.

No, they weren’t stupid per see, but sometimes they are just so painful, dense to the simplest, obvious and logical thing that he fails to see how they failed to see it.

Kudou Shinichi reviewed his mental notes about the normal humans, and mentally sighed—because apparently he hadn’t elaborated enough about this latest case. So without further ado, he explains to the portly inspector. Taking up his role as the famous teenage, high school detective, also for more definitive proof he elaborates with a demonstration—even if he mostly did it in the form of explanations. Oh, well, not everyone had the rate of imagination his kind had.

They couldn’t easily pull up logistics, facts, and pieces of the clues left behind, unravel the tangled mess into a proper weave and see the whole picture in their minds in mere seconds. Shinichi really can’t fault them for something that isn’t within their natural inborn capabilities.

They praise him again for his genius and capabilities, and he wonders how is it that no one has noticed that he isn’t exactly human, even if he certainly looks the part. Huh, must be something to do the with the persona his mother told him to defer to in public. Including one Mouri Ran, because even if she’s his childhood and female best friend, she is deathly afraid of the actual supernatural. He’d rather not take his chances, his parents had always been the supportive loft and left the choice entirely up to him.

But anyways, he still has to take Ran to that new amusement park as both apology and a congratulatory gift for missing her competition—that she won, without a doubt, and for wrecking her new phone; which also required him buying her a new one. Speaking of, he should buy her a new one now.

He wanted to give her a red smartphone, but she relayed her unease at using such pricey phones; and her own inefficiency and unfamiliarity at using it—so a flip phone and the Aquarium’s cucumber mascot phone strap it is. Though he doesn’t understand her latter concern, seeing as she is smart and she could get used to using it.

Well, to each their own. He thinks.

Because it surely wasn’t Ran being mindful of his financial state, both of his parents has heaps of monetary in credit value being sent to his account, not to mention he also has his own earnings by being a detective and the occasional contests he participates in—though he prefers not to spend too much and save for emergencies.

After buying Ran’s new phone, together with the strap, he wonders if he should give it to her during their outing in the amusement park—but not wanting to screw this one up, and potentially get the make-up gift damaged or lost, again. So, instead of handing it over to her later like a normal person—one he was not, he schedules for a delivery service to deliver it to Ran in time for St. Valentines—that way he can easily move on from having any headaches for choosing a gift for his friend on Valentines and a return gift on White Day.

Surely the phone and strap would be enough? Strangely enough, yet not surprising he feels that it wouldn’t be. So he adds something more together with the gift.

Not like she can yell at him for spending too much on things she might not use anyways, besides Valentines was in five months-time.

-

Okay, Ran wouldn’t be able to yell at him on Valentines.

Shinichi wonders if he should have listened to his instinct at that time to not follow that man in black—who had a companion with him, one he did not see. He witnessed their shady transaction, took some photos for incriminating evidence—got a whack upside his head and an untested poison for his trouble. All because he forgot about the portly one’s tall and long haired companion.

Now here he is, at least two feet shorter. His hands unbearably small, and childish.

No he did not shrink, shrinking would entail that he just changed sizes while visibly still retaining his adult-like features, no—from what he could observe, he de-aged. He grew(?) younger, back into his younger form; approximately around six or seven years old.

“Okay… this is…” not unexpected, there are many shifters that could do this—and as far as Ran and the others knew, he was completely human. Even if he actually wasn’t, so no, de-aging rather than dying—as implied, wasn’t unexpected. Just plain weird.

But hey, anything was better than actually dying from something the tall silver-blonde said was an untraceable drug. So, without further ado, he gathers his clothing, wincing at the sore, pained tinge that reverbed in his head. Just as he was about to make his escape, he hears footsteps—probably the patrolling officers. So he presses his back, and shuffling into the shadowed alley, creeping into portions that would hide him enough.

He folds the now too long sleeves and cloth of his pants, bunching up his socks to chuck that in his shoes for a better fit. He mentally focuses to heal the ebbing headache and concussions as he waits for the opportunity and hurriedly sneaks off and away from the patrol officers’ sights.

His mind already recalling the bits of conversation he heard from those two men-in-black, immediately making the connection that they were partners, in whatever shit it is that they do that the smaller, but bigger in build male deferred to the taller, leaner one. They were criminals, no questions asked—professionals likely. They mentioned something about an ‘organization’ when the taller guy force-fed him that pill. That means that there’s a larger syndicate involved, especially if from their words that it was a newly developed, untested, untraceable drug meant anything. It could only be the word ‘illegal’ in bold, black, thick letters with bioluminescent neon highlighters.

The taller man had called him detective, not to mention they saw him earlier during the murder case on that roller coaster—what were they doing there anyway, surely not confirming if that man they blackmailed went according to their demands?—plus, with his current fame, he knows that they’d be suspicious if there were no reports about his disappearance, death or something, anything.

And if their aura’s and mental wavelength were anything to go by, they weren’t ones to slack off their work.

He checks his pockets, thanking his lucky stars that they only took his disposable camera—one he used to gather evidences; trippy, because he wanted to at least have physical proof. They probably didn’t take his phone so that someone would call his phone and discover his body, someday. So, that rules the contacting someone with his phone option out. He decides it’s better not to use it anyways. Devices could be hacked, it would be better if he’ll blend into the background—as if he disappeared without a trace on this night would suffice, and not stand out. The phone he sent to Ran was a scheduled delivery, a simple background check on it would prove that he did it before he spied on them, therefore should not cast that much suspicion on his childhood friend and her family.

If he cannot use his phone to contact his parents who can help, he heaves a sigh, left with no choice.

So, he leans on the cool, rough surface of the wall behind him, ignoring the delighted screams from the theme park shutting that out and mentally tracking his parents’ wavelength trail down—and, wait, they were in Japan? Welp, convenient timing—he doesn’t have to look for them around the world, plus they have a nasty habit of leaving false trails, so he’ll take what he can.

He latches on both of their wavelengths, scourging and spearheading to connect to their connected mental communicative mental space, and he mentally knocks on the metaphorical door of their familial connection.

“Mom? Dad?” he could almost see them stop in their tracks on whatever it was they were doing—since he doesn’t really do this much, if at all.

“Shin-chan? Baby? What’s wrong?” his mom immediately mentally answers.

“Where are you and dad?”

“We’re in a private hotel, Shinichi. Did you need something?” his father answers promptly before his mom could explode and rattle off. Shinichi sighs in a relief.

“Yes? Can you two go get dinner, go outside differently, get something new like a seven? And pick me up?” he could taste and see his parents stare at each other contemplative. Telepathic messages are rarely hijacked, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’ll be waiting at Beika Park.” Quite a mile-walk from where he is, but again, he wasn’t taking any chances. He felt the exact moment his parents decided to leave the questioning later, and start moving. Even if he could feel their concern as if it was a physical touch—nevertheless, later that night when they did pick him up, he and his father winced when his mother promptly started squealing loudly and sharply in their shared mental scape, while on the outside she immediately played the doting mother really well—concerned for her son that snuck out of their household.

His father played the exasperated, but all-too-used-to-it father well enough—despite his lack of training in acting.

They went into a new hotel, hid in the employees’ room, changed disguises, leave the hotel into a different car then back into his parents’ current lodging hotel—as if they were already lodging in as a family.

-

“So, let me get this straight…” Yuusaku breathes deeply both exasperated, fond and confusedly angry but concerned at the same time—out of his disguise. His wife gently ripping off hers and doing some weird ritual she always did after a disguise gig “You followed these shady men, doing what clearly is a shady and illegal transaction—got hit on the back your head, and fed a supposedly undetected, untested poison developed by something they called an organization, and here you are waking up with a partly healed mild concussion and de-aged by approximately nine to ten years via something akin to burning it off.” Shinichi nods, and Yuusaku once again heaves a sigh—because this isn’t actually the weirdest thing they have encountered, even if actual supernatural occurrences aren’t common knowledge to normal humans, it was to them and this wasn’t the weirdest one in the bunch.

“Sounds about right.” So, Shinichi just leaned back, watching amusedly at the range of different tight, and attempted concealment of his father’s expressions, looking akin to being stoically constipated. His mother one the other hand had frozen still, and made a complicated twitch of her face before it becomes awfully blank.

“Shin-chan…” his mother speaks, voice devoid of any emotion and Shinichi would have winced if he knew that this situation was worse than the one before, but he does know that this situation wasn’t as bad as it should be, so he really wasn’t particularly worried—even though it was pretty painful when he felt his body melting… okay, maybe his parents does have a point.

“It’s not as bad as it should be?” he trails off, uncertain. Both his parents promptly give him the blatant exasperatedly concerned, chiding, ‘Seriously, Shinichi? What are we going to do with you?’ stare that he didn’t even need his telepathic abilities to read their current thoughts. Or them to convey it.

Both sighs.

“If they are part of an illegal organization, and has been hidden this long. That must mean they’re good at what they do, you need us to cover for you when the news start declaring you missing.” Shinichi nods. “Do you want us to stay?” that was a valid concern, one that even Shinichi himself doesn’t really know the answer to.

“I don’t want them to start suspecting something…” Yukiko huffs.

“Well, they should expect us to do something, even if we keep quiet about it—besides it’s not surprising if the famed retired actress and the elusive writer actually disappears off the face of the earth without a trace after their son does.” Yuusaku and Shinichi stares at the woman, before both sighs resignedly. Then expectedly the woman’s face breaks into a mirthful smile.

“So, which family set should we break into?”

And so the night proceeded with debates on their disguises.

-

Contacting and convincing the Professor—physically alone, because his parents have established Agasa as part of the family friend mental connection, and well it would catch attention if they were there, when they should be staying in their hotel rooms—was both easy yet difficult. The aged man took a little while to be fully convinced that he was Shinichi and not some crazy seven-year-old that abused drugs early on.

So here they are inside the professor’s lab—after grabbing two sets of his clothing from his old stuff, to pack them together with the mix of thrift store and newly bought items for his new identity. His parents were handling his birth information and personal documents at the moment—including their own. And well, he’s apparently supposed to lay low for a while in the Professor’s basement—so here he is, after setting up the bedroom corner of the room—set apart from the lab, when the top sheet of sketch of a gadget design catches his eyes on top of the table.

It was a pair of glasses—one clearly designed after his father’s frames that had some sort of tracking system built in. The next one is of a transmitter plus tracking device—and like mini-walkie-talkies that looked like a plain brooch. Flipping through, he grabs what he could see were useful, and almost runs up the stairs—before remembering that he should stay out of sight. (And well, the Professor had more windows than walls.) So, he calls for the man through the mental scape instead—though he probably should have ‘knocked’ instead of doing the mental equivalent of suddenly barging into the room—if the startled yelp and crash from upstairs was any indication.

Thankfully though the aged man makes his way down—if with an affronted pout on his face. And Shinichi grins up at the man, before slamming the sketches on the nearest table.

“Hakase these are brilliant! Why did you scrap them?” the Professor expectedly blinks at him, before he looks at the sketches.

“Ah… I didn’t really have a reason to justify why I should make them… why?” Shinichi couldn’t help it he lets a smirk grow wide on his face—ignoring how both of his parents just uncertainly called his name in the link.

The Professor’s eyes widened, realization clearly dawning on him, the inventor also stares back at him. Shinichi lets the smirk loose—wider than it ever had been in his life. Then the Professor also smiles and start cackling—already going through his possessions, tinkering and gathering materials. (If anyone called the Professor a mad-scientist, he’s the perfect picture of it now.)

“Shin-chan?” Yukiko asks, tad bit worried, but her son and the inventor promptly ignores her—aside from him sending her the equivalent of a beam that actually means ‘I’m-being-a-little-shit-and-I-know-it-but-I-like-to-see-you-squirm-so-SQUIRM!’.

…

It took his parents a month to let Ran off the case to let her move on with her life. In the end, they decided that sudden disappearance was the best bet. They didn’t know what results the Organization was after with their supposedly untested drug, so they were technically just guessing and clutching at straws for the assumed results, considering what personally happened to him.

And then it took three more months before it got through the media to leave the angry, grieving couple alone (props to his mother and father’s impromptu acting—they have an alibi for why his stuff is touched, especially after they let some paparazzi take a shot of his mother bawling in his room, touching many of his stuff as if that would bring him back. After all, everyone copes differently). A month after, his father’s last manuscripts in place with a note of farewell of him ‘quitting’ and going away with his wife, they’re finally ready to step into their new identities.

Edogawa Yukito, 28 years old, a transcriber and editor for a branch in Ekoda for the very company he used to submit his internationally famous books—he’s already out of the probation phase, he’ll just need to start full-time after he and his family moves-in.

His wife, Edogawa Fumiyo is 27 years old, an on-call make-up artist for anyone who hires her, and her main contacts are the companies she used to work for as an actress.

And lastly, they’re only son…

Edogawa Shinsuke, 6 (almost 7) years old, a first grade elementary pupil of Ekoda Elementary School.

The Professor was bound to mess up, someday—and after news gets out that his parents have decided to go off the grid, he might be targeted for being known to be close to them. So he’ll be catching up to them in a few months, half a year give or take, as Edogawa Hirota, the brother of Yukito’s father.

He just needed to play ‘depressed’ for a while, before finally deciding to go back to his hometown in Nagoya—not that many people knew of this fact. (And of course, he had to actually travel there, move-in, be visible for a while before disappearing.)

They must move under the impression that they’re being watched.

The Professor being so far from them is a tad bit unnerving, though he already has a bunch of working gadgets and spares for Edogawa Shinsuke available—and for himself, just in case. (His parents have their own. The only issue was clearing out the stuff in the hidden lairs without making it obvious, and adding said hidden lair in their new house.

Their bank accounts were already emptied—Shin’ichi’s though remained untouched; though it’s only a face for when the Organization checks in on it, it won’t be suspicious if the Kudou couple empties their accounts if they wish to use cash and remain undetected, however, clearing Shin’ichi’s account when he’s supposedly missing with both parents grieving—it wouldn’t be the appropriate behavior.

Of course, a few strings were pulled here and there to pull this off, but they managed. Of course, they didn’t even put the all of the amount—from their multiple account into their new identities, just enough to convince possible on-lookers that they’re an average, well-off family that came from even well-off parents and has a few connections.)

Should everything go well, they can settle in, like a normal family in Ekoda, moving for their job and a new sight. (Shinsuke can play the bullied victim as an excuse of his unfriendly behavior.)

While they will make it seem like they’re a normal family on the outside, at any free given time, they will investigate and dig into this Organization, and if push comes to shove—well, Yukito is assigned in the mystery department, with military training and a criminology credential, he can be a detective if he wishes.

For now, though, the biggest issue Shin’ichi—excuse me, Shinsuke has to face, is his current class, and the lessons.

He just has to survive through Primary Education again…

“9 multiplied by 8 is equal to 72!”

God damnit… someone kill him.

“Now, now. Shin-chan! You know it’ll be more suspicious if you don’t go to school!” his mother chides through their link and he inwardly whimpers, feeling a part of his brain deteriorate from the too simple problems. And while he understands the necessity, it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

And further in the link, he can feel both the Professor and his father’s sympathies and amusement. But notably more amusement.

Lucky bastards.

“Great job everyone! Now, let’s go through this answer sheets for a while and then we’ll discuss division, what do you say~?” the teacher enthusiastically cheers, and once more, Shin’ichi feels like drowning himself, even further when he sees the answer sheet when it’s passed on his table.

Why couldn’t he just signed up for advanced classes? There were kids even younger than him and are in those classes! But despite his mental complaints, he already knew the answer to that.

After all, the goal is to be as unassuming as possible, he can’t catch their attention as a child, even if he barely looks like the original Shin’ichi with a different hair, eye and skin color—plus, hair style and fake glasses.

And, of course, to play as a completely, average family.

Why though…

Even now that it’s so calm…

Why does he have a foreboding feeling that despite their best efforts, they’ll likely run into something that changes everything?

(The feeling is tentatively answered, when after class and his father picks him up, and on their way home, a woman screams after discovering a body.)

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Project Ace; 4-N-1.94.57.94 |

(Random Idea 31)

Heiji growls, teeth clashing harshly together when the madman made a run for it, shoving people all over the place and out of his way.

“Move outtuv the way!!!” Heiji yells over the exclaiming crowd, trying to chase the criminal down. He would have more than caught up, if it weren’t for the panicking bystanders that occasionally got in his way. Growling as he also shoves a man in a weird trance, he does his best to keep an eye on the retreating cuffed man’s stature.

Who he notes is heading towards a teen his age, with a weird flick of a cowlick on the crown of his head, seeing the crowd getting thicker on his side, even with a police not far behind him, the man was steadily gaining ground and distance in between them. Left to no choice, he hollers.

“Someone!!! Stop tha’ man!” instead of anyone near the man trying to apprehend him, they parted giving him a huge berth and space to go through. Huffing and internally screaming in frustration, he makes haste to try and cover the distance between them, pushing every sense of training to sprint to his target, even if he had to tackle him to the ground to get him to stop.

Despite the fact that the logical side of his brain is already telling him with the distance gained it was near impossible to catch up. This is when he notes that the teen he saw with a weird cowlick hadn’t moved away, unlike the huge berth people were giving them. Instead he was looking around in confusion, an utterly lost expression on his face, as he stares at the madman—who is only a few wide strides away from him.

A viable hostage—damnit!

Despite knowing the risk it would send the suspect even more desperate, he yells.

Heiji was desperate too, damnit!

“Oi! Tha’ pale niichan ova’ ther’ move!!! He’s a serial killer!”

As if in domino effect, the crowd parts into a wider berth, while the criminal rushes. Only Heiji sees the crystal recognition, and clarity engulf the formerly lost glazed look on the teen’s eyes as his ethereally cerulean eyes narrows in on the culprit. Heiji only had the chance to note a twitch on the teen’s brows and lip, before a blur of dark colors blocks his sight of the teen.

And before he knows it, the criminal is already skillfully pinned to the ground with the teen over him, foot stepping on the man’s lower back to prevent him from getting up without his permission.

“Keep him still, please!” he couldn’t help but pipe up, a weird warm feeling surging and engulfing his chest as the teen makes eye contact with him again. The sharp contrast of focus disappearing and making way for a rather adorable curiosity. If Heiji didn’t know any better, he’d say the teen was a child in an adult’s body.

Deciding to shove those thoughts in the back burner for now, he averts his focus on the criminal. Making sure that the man hadn’t somehow acquired a weapon. While the man had a notorious coward personality, he was still a psychopath that could wield his blades proficiently.

It is only when the other Police Detectives caught up to them and took over their hold did he let up a bit, though he still kept a wary focus on the man until he was finally shoved in the police car did he heave a sigh before turning to the teen before him.

“Thanks fer yer ‘elp. It woulda been bad ‘ad he gott’n away.” cerulean-eyes blinks at him, the epitome of a polite Japanese gentleman—and while that could have reminded Heiji of that Hakuba-bastard, the teen was clearly a full Japanese, and yet felt so foreign that Heiji swears that he feels nearly ethereal.

The teen hums lowly and nods, his eyes swiveling to the suspect then their surroundings, a gleam of wonder and akin to a first time explorer glistening in his eyes and Hattori blinks.

“Is’t yer first time in Tokyo? ‘re ya no’ from ‘round ‘ere?” the teen jolts slightly, attention snapping to him, adopting an awkward sheepish look, his hand twitched at his side, telling Heiji of a mannerism that he was giving his all to not do. Likely the temptation to scratch his cheek or rub the back of his neck in the standard awkward motion—though, considering that his hand twitched inwards, his habitual motion must be tucking his hand (or hands) in his pocket.

“Um, something like that.” Heiji blinks again, not expecting to hear a voice—though he didn’t know why, maybe because the guy was exuding a rather shy aura?—a voice that is partly husky, but not too heavy on the ears. His voice is a pitch higher compared to his own, and Hattori has met people with far more effeminate voice than this guy.

There was also something else that was tickling at Heiji’s senses.

“So, ‘re ya sightseein’?” it was a light question, none of the officers bothered him, even though he knew he’ll have to comply to the statements later. But considering that he just caught a serial killer for them, he was allowed to converse amicably with his peer, right?

Then a sharp alarm went through him when the teen flinched at that. Eyes immediately faltering and once more looking around in a rather fast pace—and it hits Heiji like a ten ton of bricks on his back, not only did the other teen exude an aura of kindness and gentleness, he was showing rather alarming signs of a cornered animal, or of one that is hunted down—likely having experienced capture but have recently escape.

The line of thought immediately connects the teen’s watchful eyes that scanned their surroundings to analyzing and calculating escape routes.

“Of sorts…” the teen laughed wryly, and while he wasn’t lying there was also something that he was omitting from him. When the teen stares at him uncertainly for a few seconds then the minute glance past behind him, Heiji’s made aware of the stares drilling into them from the officers—and he knows that’s a silent prompt for him to wrap up his conversation to go to the station.

And the teen apparently also caught that, despite showing signs of not having much of a social life experience. Immediately, even before the teen opened his mouth, Heiji was already running different scenarios in his head. This skittish behavior was typical sign of a domestic abuse and captivity victim, and since he has caught on, the least he can do was try and keep this teen away from those that have hurt and deprived him.

(Something inside him, other than his strong morals, screamed to save this intriguing person.)

However, before he could even implement one of the half plans, the teen smiles pleasantly—and Heiji knew that the other officers hadn’t caught on the signs he exhibited, not that the other teen knew from how his eyes lingered uncertainly.

“They look like they want to talk to you, and I should actually go, I still have things to do. If you’ll excuse me.”

The spike of alarm clangs loudly in his head, a pang in his chest, mind whirring—confusion and theories of; what things to do? Did he temporarily escape, but knew fully escaping was impossible and would return to his captors? Or is he working on how to fully slip under the radar? Do I stop him? Should I?

All spun in his head in a tandem of mixed feelings, and before he could parse through it or even implement a stall. A shrill voice exclaiming his name, a sudden force on his back that forced his body to bend low and slip his eyes off the teen stopped him in his tracks.

“HEIJI! Dun suddenly take off like tha’!!! Ya could’ve gott’n hurt ya moron!” instincts kicked in and he immediately snarls back at his childhood friend.

“YER THE MORON, MORON! I HANDLED IT FINE DIDN’ I?!!!”

“DUN CALL ME MORON, YA MORON! An’ why’re ya pretendin’ ta do ev’rythin’ by yerself? I saw ev’rythin’! Som’one’lse took ‘im down befor’ ya!” normally he would have snapped right back, but at the mention of the other teen rebooted his brain prior the distraction and he immediately looks around.

“Shit, tha’s righ’ where’s tha’ guy?” he mumbles, scanning the crowd after seeing that the teen was no longer at his side, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see where the teen is from where he is. Trying to run after him would be pointless, especially since Kazuha is right next to him and would not hesitate to stop him.

“Agh! Damnit, I los’ sight o’ ‘im!” temper flaring, his hand automatically scratches at his head furiously glaring in front of him in frustration.

“Los’ sight of who?” gah, the idiot ev’n ‘ave da gall ta ask!

“De otha’ guy tha’ helped me take down de suspect! I didn’ ev’n get ‘is name!” while it wasn’t everyday a bystander willingly involved or assisted in their pursuit of a runaway criminal, it wasn’t that uncommon either—and most of the times, it isn’t even necessary to take their statements, and considering the officers and himself all saw what went down, it wasn’t actually completely necessary for the other guy to give a statement.

However, if there was an implementation of obligatory statement, it would have been very convenient—with a name Heiji could easily track him down. Losing sight of the skittish teen did not bode well for Heiji’s senses.

“Why? De police dun usually need tha’… why does Heiji wanna know da stranger’s name?” a long pained growl slips before he could do anything about it, and if he tells Kazuha, it will just get troublesome.

(Not to mention, humiliating if he turned out to be wrong, because she’ll never let him live it down.)

So, he just yells a frustrated, “Just because…!” and left it at that as he tried to inwardly blow off the steam. Deflecting every single one of his childhood friend’s inquiry.

…

Saguru blinks when his eyes are unexpectedly drawn to a teen across the street, at first glance there was nothing odd, only the teen had been wavering in his steps—walking all too slowly for Saguru’s taste, especially considering the rather fit, if thin, build—and from his bent posture that says he’s deep in thought, though aware of his surroundings from the slight tilts of his head to the sides. But even then it shouldn’t stand out much, typical runaway behavior—if not, a lost person from the tenseness around his shoulders and reluctant steps.

Even then, nothing should have really stood out that persisted the sleuth’s sense to focus on the teen—that is until the teen grew closer and Saguru could now make out his facial features.

The resemblance to Kuroba’s face was rather uncanny, eerie even—and Saguru was ready to actually make a run for it, should the prankster clock on him and decide to let out his inner frustrations at him. A closer look, easily dissuaded that though, seeing the teen’s obviously vibrantly bluer eyes (cerulean, if he was to a hazard a guess—Kuroba had a murkier purple in color), and the well-groomed hair, minus the persistent, but bouncy cowlick on the top of the crown of the teen’s head, the gravity defying flick of hair on the back of his head. But even so, the style was strangely fitting; even looked well-kept and formal on the teen. Looking soft yet sharp.

(Unlike Kuroba’s birds nest of a hair, and he, Nakamori—the younger, and Koizumi had already made several attempts to tame that wild mane that is the prankster’s hair. Nakamori’s too. But much like their personalities, their hair refused to give in.

Saguru then understood the references of having stubborn hairs.

But despite their personalities, they looked fluffy—but most of the times, manic.)

And unlike Kuroba, this teen is extravagantly calmer and composed—Kuroba can never quite sit still, and while this teen showed a potential of one not being able to sit still, as most teens are. The look-alike is more subdued.

However, considering his attention was already drawn to the teen before he saw the resemblance—spite being adaptively hyperaware of Kuroba’s presence (plus the fact it did not ping)—meant that there was something else drawing his attention to the teen.

Noting the vibrant blue eyes—and this time getting a sense of something beyond human, reminds him of Koizumi’s deep blood red eyes and her apparent status of being a witch (officially, he’s aware of her secondary race), however he immediately shoves the thought away before his memories could even trigger the lecture Koizumi gave them just in case they have a run-in with other members of the other clans.

He still could shelve it though, even if Koizumi did tell him that there was a witch clan that had blue as their main color, since a part of him somehow subconsciously knew that this teen wasn’t like Koizumi in every way.

But what?

Before he could even linger on the thought, a shrill scream broke him—and the other teen—out of his reverie.

“Thief! Someone stop him!!!” sighing, he was about to step in. When he notes the trajectory, before reaching him—the thief will reach the blue-eyed teen first, a thief who’s currently swinging his knife wildly while the teen just watched, seemingly having no plans of moving while his eyes glinted in curiosity.

That—why is he just?! Saguru’s mind couldn’t process well, he couldn’t make sense of how this teen fearlessly and curiously just stayed in place when he could get hurt, the normal response was to fling yourself away, not tilt closer to get a proper look—of course, unless you’re a detective, or Kuroba. And while there’s a chance that this teen is a Kuroba, as far as he knew not only was Kuroba an only child, but so are both of his parents, in fact—his mother is an orphan.

And despite the resemblance, there were anomalies that he spotted, structural anomalies that will easily dissuade the notion of them being from the same family tree.

For some reason, this teen’s features seemed starkly softer, compared to the Kuroba’s wild depiction. Despite the fact that there was a hint of danger around him.

Wait… danger…?

Abruptly reminded of the thief, he tries to sprint forward and intercept the man. When a blind swing that could have sliced skin on the teen’s face and likely taken out an eye is easily evaded—to Saguru’s bafflement, and in a split second, the knife clatters on the ground as the thief is pinned down with a sharp thud and his arm twisted behind him. The blue-eyed teen’s knee on his lower back, while his hands made a quick work of disarming the man.

(Which erased Saguru’s doubt of the teen being his classmate in a haphazard disguise, as while Kuroba did tend to get overboard with his pranks, he was never particularly harmful, intentionally at least. Nor was he violent. Hostile, yes. But violent? No.

And even then, he made sure that no one really suffered—except for mental trauma, embarrassment and slight humiliation.

Well, anything’s better compared to Kuroba’s mother’s fascination in scaring the living daylights out of you.)

The woman that yelled caught up, an officer not far behind her, smiling with tears in her eyes. The officer thanks him, and gently reprimands him—to next time, stay out of it, even though he just effectively took down the suspect. Saguru takes this chance to further study the teen close up.

Now, that he looks closer, the teen is obviously different compared to Kuroba—their build’s drastically different, while Kuroba’s were built to be a nimble gymnast, this teen on the other hand had far nimbler build, one of a runner’s. And if Saguru didn’t know any better, he’d say that this look alike is far more androgynous compared to Kuroba, especially when you compare their body build.

The blue-eyed teen being far more, lithe and petite—not to mention, he’s shorter than Kuroba by a couple of inches from what he can estimate.

The woman thanks the look alike profusely, when the officer next to them pipes up.

“You’re the Superintendent’s son, right?” unable to ignore the man’s query he responds, trying to finish the interaction as fast as possible, when he feels a presence fading. Turning around, his suspicion is proven correct when the Kuroba-look-alike had disappeared. Likely slinking away when the officer was distracting him and dismissing himself seeing as his presence wasn’t needed anymore.

Mentally cursing he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the look-alike when the opportunity comes. He’s not certain what he’ll do when the opportunity does arise, what he does know, however, is that he won’t be walking away without at least a name to the face and hopefully a contact number.

Not just anyone could get his attention by just walking down the street after all.

…

Kaito blinks when something tugs at his instincts, looking around he catches a pair of vibrant cerulean blue eyes—and it immediately dawns on him, that what he felt was the heavy stare filled with curiosity. When the shoulder of the man walks away, no longer concealing the teen’s face. Kaito is hit with another bout of realization as to why and how he caught the other teen’s eye, as he too, himself could understand.

While there were differences, the similarities were uncanny, almost eerie. Kind of like two long lost and separated identical twins reuniting and yet meeting for the first time—if he didn’t know any better he would have thought so, however, he does know better.

So, he beams as he approaches the other teen who seemed to be content with just look—no, not quite. His look alike was observing him, but still he is a gentleman.

“A curious face, but a pleasure to meet you! My name is Kuroba Kaito, and you are?” he smiles giving the teen an extravagant bow, plus brandishing a blue rose with flourish—and he makes a mental note to add a type of blue that would match this teen’s eyes in his collection—and extending that to the other. The teen blinks for a few more times, scans him up and down, before his eyes linger on Kaito’s face. Eyes gleaming in a way that just said he’s having an internal conflict, more than likely mentally debating with himself. When he seems to come into conclusion, his lips pursing open, too slowly that Kaito couldn’t help but track them, and he’s curious, what would this guy sound like?

Whatever he expected, he did not expect his own voice, if softer, from the teen—slightly giving him flashbacks of that stupid robot.

But even more, he did not expect the first thing to come out from the teen’s mouth was, instead of a name, a whispered;

“You’re Kaitou KID’s son, the current Kaitou Kid.”

There was no question in his tone. And from the glint in his eyes, Kaito doubted he could sway him—not with that certainty.

He knew.

They just met, but whathefuck.

How did this guy know?!

Just who in the world is he?!

Kaito eyes him warily, even as the teen visibly relaxes a soft smile on his lips.

“Ah, I did not mean to alarm you…”

Yeah, right! The hell you are! Once again, thoughts of that poorly made robot comes up in Kaito’s mind, and he’s more than ready to blow up some smoke bombs or a flash grenade—would that even work?! This one looks even more realistic!

“…I just have been looking for you…” hands in his pocket, ready to detonate anything to get away from public—even if they’re both well out of hearing range. “I’m not your enemy.”

Kaito doubts that very much, but at the same time, this guy sounds so genuine, whatthehell.

“Yeah, right.” he says flatly in response instead and curses himself when he chokes a bit at the end. The teen smiles wryly, eyeing his hands, clearly deducing what he’s about to do, if the way he eyed the escape routes Kaito just clocked—even though he did not look at them.

The teen then gives him a skewed but soft smile, eyes closing—andwhatthefuckshouldhedo?! Whatisthisguyupto?!—then, he’s suddenly bending down, and… picking up the rose…?

“I humbly accept your offer, thank you.” Whatthehell. How can someone look so cute yet dangerous with a rose in their hand?! “… and my name? I don’t have one…”

What…?

It takes him off-guard that he freezes, and can’t help but track the guy’s movements. And now he’s looking at his own wrist? While thinking of something?

“But, I’d like it if you’d call me, Shin’ichi?”

Wha—didn’t he just say he didn’t have a name? What does that even mean in the first place?

“Ah, excuse me… but I… I need your help, Kuroba-san.”

What?

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| Lost Pitch |

(Random Idea 32)

Akiba Kōji, is a seven-year-old adopted child of one Akiba Reiko—a famous soprano singer. She found Kōji knocked out and heartlessly abandoned in a forest right next to the seashore, only to find out that he woke up having no idea of who he is, nor where he’s from. And apparently, due to his mind’s development, the doctor had implied that he more than likely did not have a good home. Not to mention, his injury and old scars on his body said a lot.

Whoever his “family” were, they were freaking psychopaths. There were scars from cuts of a blade, cuts from the grazing of a bullet. Not to mention, the stitches that indicated he was more than likely stabbed. Then there was the x-ray of his bones that looked like someone dislocated and snapped his bones back in place for whatever reason.

It was disgusting.

The doctors and nurses were horrified from what they’ve found, and to make matters worse, it seemed that when Akiba Reiko found him, they were planning to abandon the child once and for all. No one was looking for him, and the boy didn’t even have a record on the system. An unknown, an anomaly, unregistered.

Likely done on purpose by those twisted maniacs.

If the authorities won’t be looking for him, they’ll have no problem keeping him away from anyone’s sights. After all, if it doesn’t exist, no one would look for it.

And thus, Reiko couldn’t help but worry while he was still in a comatose state in the hospital. She wondered what exactly it was he went through. But when he does wake up though, you can bet that she’ll demand for names and faces and get those bastards arrested.

…after she gets her turn by right hooking their jaws, of course.

…

However, none of that happened. When the boy woke up, they ended up with no names, nor faces. Not even the boy’s own—though his responsive instinct when someone said brat was concerning.

Retrograde Amnesia, is what the doctors said.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have any trauma that’ll impede his daily function. Is also what the doctors’ said.

Reiko is having mixed feelings as it is. There is no doubt that he will be placed in the Child Care Center, and for that Reiko doesn’t have any mixed feelings.

“No need.” Yamezakawa, the boy’s doctor, splutters in confusion.

“Excuse me? Just what exactly do you mean—”

“I’m adopting him.”

-

It took a while to finalize and process the papers, not to mention checking up on the boy’s health. But everything was done, and now she was taking the boy back to her apart—no way.

“Re-Reiko-san?” looking down at her side, she sees the boy’s worry, and she slightly loosens her instinctively tightened grip on his hand and smiles at him.

“I’m sorry, but don’t worry about it. Something just came to me, is all.” Kōji tilts his head curiously, more than likely knowing that it was important, and she smiles at his brilliance. He’s very observant and perceptive.

Those fools, she thinks smugly of the idiots that didn’t even know what they had. So, she bends down to his level, making an eyes contact.

“My apartment is a single apartment, so… why don’t we move to a house together?”

…

Reiko sighs heavily, eyeing the slightly ajar door of her son’s bedroom, and she mentally groans. No matter how hard he tried to spoil him, he’ll only ask for the simplest of things, most of them practical needs than desires—aside from books. It has been seven months since she found him, two spent in a coma, the next month for his recovery and check-ups, and them moving into a new residence, then half of the next month was spent enrolling him to his age-required grade level. Only his intelligence went beyond that.

If he wanted, he could be graduated and instantly enrolled to college, is what they—her lawyers, the teachers and her friends—said. So of course, before deciding on anything, she decided to discuss with her son. And the response she got was.

“No way, that’ll get too much attention.” the newly named Kōji said with a deadpan, and too flat tone that just said; ‘Are you an idiot?’ in the subtitles.

(So in the end, they decided not to enroll him yet, either they’ll go for home-schooling, or just enroll him in High School, since the higher levels in Elementary ended badly, and so did Middle School—so in the end, they gave him tests and the elementary school just gave him a diploma and so did the middle school.)

Chuckling at the memory, and her company’s stunned faces, especially considering the one that stunned them so was a mere seven-year-old. She looks back at the door to her son’s room, then around the newly decorated hall, kitchen and living room. Each of them had personal bathrooms, and a general bathroom, if they ever have guests. And of course, there’s a storage room and a guest bedroom, not to mention the music room, the study room and the library. The house might just be too big for a family of two, but it works for them either way.

The television in the living room was still playing the news that have popped up around the time Kōji was still comatose in the hospital—about a missing high school detective with famous parents. Shaking her head, she reaches for the remote on the table next to her, making a mental note to properly put away the boxes they used into the storage room, before turning off the electronic and she headed for her son’s room, pushing the door open and knocking on it.

“Kōji?” the boy, clearly having heard her approach just smoothly turns his head to look at her, and she finds herself smiling at the curls in the boy’s now slightly longer hair, though that tuft of hair that perked up on the back of his head was still there. Looks like that shampoo of hers really does increase hair volume, considering she already had thick hair, it wasn’t as noticeable, but on her son—it did wonders.

She can’t wait until she adds a conditioner and she can have fun ruffling his fluffy hair—not to mention, his flailing was also adorable.

“It’s getting late, shall we eat out?” expectedly, the boy’s brows furrows.

“The second truck hasn’t arrived?”

“They’ll be slightly delayed, but they should arrive early tomorrow. How about you? Finally decided which school?” she takes a peek at the flyers that was given to them, and the laptop that currently displayed the school’s home pages.

“Yeah, I also got the confirmation letter.”

As expected of Kōji… she thinks both proudly and wryly. He works fast.

“So, which is it and when are they expecting you?”

“Ekoda High School’s 1-B class. Next week’s Monday.” Reiko blinks.

“Shouldn’t your intelligence be enough for third year?” Kōji sends her a dry stare, but responds either way.

“They said they’ll accelerate my level depending on my performance. But at most it’ll be in second-year, or if they can push it, third year. But if so, I’ll have to attend class regularly. They apparently do take in special cases, so I shouldn’t face too much discrimination. And the only reason I should come in for the classes next Monday is so they can prepare every class, in case I do get bumped up.”

Color her impressed, Kōji truly managed all of that all by himself. Smiling, she pats the boy’s back and beckons him to go out with her for their dinner. Her boy deserves a treat. Oh, and she had just scheduled with a trainer, after all, a renowned singer with a son that can’t sing, despite both of them having perfect pitch?

Unforgiveable, her son just needs to be taught properly.

…

Yuusaku heaves a sigh and glares tiredly at the photos all over his office. But despite that, there was no body found, nothing. Except for the traces of some blood smeared over the ground that indicated his son was injured before he was moved elsewhere, where that elsewhere is, is unknown.

It didn’t help that the criminals, whoever they are, were likely professionals. Considering the lack of leads. That was the only conclusion, this experience speaks of connections—which means, he’ll have to check out the underground organizations. Growling, he glances at the drawer that is usually locked and only he had the key to, without further ado, he takes off his glasses and removes the disguised key from the arms of the frames, and unlocks the drawer, pulling it open.

If he’s right, then he’s likely not looking for Shin’ichi himself, but his son’s body. As much as he doesn’t want to think of it.

…

A light haired woman stands in front of a cliff, looking down at the sea, dressed in formal black clothes, with a headdress that had a black veil.

Successfully, hiding the cold expression and hardened glare on her face.

A sound of a phone vibrating echoes lowly, and she picks it up without looking at the caller information—pressing it close to her ear.

“Took you long enough.”

|To Be Continued…|

Chapter Text

| A Liquor Store, a Pet Store, and a Pharmacy |

(Random Idea 33)

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later. Until then!”

“Hey, wait a second—you idiot!”

…

The Unofficial Kaitou Kid Capture Brigade—though missing a member, now had a new objective and mission.

And it’s only because of the extenuating changes in the circumstances.

As of now, they’re trying with all their might to find their currently errant friend and classmate.

No matter what it takes, they’ll find him.

Is what they swore, they can deal with other revelations later, they just need him back.

…

Saguru jolts awake with a sharp breath, breathing heavily and wincing when a twinge of pain on his nape made itself apparent, recalling that he had been knocked out rather crudely with a stun gun. He recalled feeling followed and a group of black clothed men just popped out of nowhere and surrounded them not even a second later—

Once more, he jolts, just remembering he wasn’t alone when he was knocked out—and he feels a sting from the restraints binding him to the chair he’s seated on. Looking around the dim room, he squints his eyes, and confirms that yes, Koizumi and Nakamori are in the same situation as he is.

And if he recalled correctly, only he and Koizumi were knocked out with a stun gun, Nakamori on the other hand was knocked out by chloroform.

Therefore, both of them should be waking up soon enough.

Which gives him enough time to study the room and maybe figure things out a bit.

While he did notice they were being followed, Koizumi said there was no ill intent—so he thought it was only Jii who was keeping an eye on them from afar. Turns out that wasn’t the case, and he knew he should’ve been more cautious—even if he felt that the stares were merely temporary and didn’t stay for long, but the fact that no matter where they went, the stare was there. And yet, when he turned to look even as soon as he feels the stare and that no one stood out, should have warned him enough.

But instead, he let his guard down. Just because the stare wasn’t consistent—and because it wasn’t, it should’ve tipped him off, especially since it felt like from different people.

Though it was no use lamenting it now. It was done, all there’s left is to find an escape route and find out who took them.

The room may be dim, but aside from the distanced chairs they’re separately tied on, the long table across them in the middle of the room, and the small chest leaning on the wall behind it—the door was nowhere in sight. Not to mention, the lack of windows—except for long ventilations right beneath the ceiling. So either the door was behind him—his vision is fruitfully blocked by the backrest of the chair, or was hidden by a turn of a wall.

Then there were the men that took them. The glimpse of black clad agents he saw earlier already left him with a daunting sensation of dread. The fact that they were investigating things hidden from even the police should have given them enough reason to be warier. But they let their guards down, thinking they’ve slipped whoever took Kuroba’s notice when they slipped away without much attention. Asking around really did get them some undesired attention—especially when they found similarities with Kuroba’s and Kudou’s disappearance.

Hearing twin groans, he reserves and shelves the thoughts and focuses his attention on his other companions.

“What happ—where are we?” Nakamori voices with a pained whine in her tone. Koizumi merely snaps her eyes open and glares around them, obviously scrutinizing the scene, likely also looking for an escape route in the event—should the opportunity arise.

“Are you okay, Nakamori-kun?” he asks her directly, knowing the teen well-enough that she’ll start yelling at moments’ notice. They need a moment to themselves, though that would be moot if they’re being watched.

“She should feel just fine, if a bit sore, and having a sensation akin to a stuffed head.” Saguru immediately snaps his eyes to the source of the voice on his right, likely where the door is. So they are being watched. A man in a dull navy green suit, and dark brown tie comes forward from the drapes of the shadows. Face pulled into a neutral stoic expression, giving away nothing.

Nakamori moans, clearly uncomfortable with the tinge of ache in her head, and Saguru takes this time to study the man before them. Taking in the hidden weapons likely on his person—and is confused.

Aside from the usual shoulder hostler, and likely handgun, there was nothing else.

“Why are we here…” Nakamori growls out, now more coherent. The man merely glances at her impassively, blinks once and averts his gaze and focus on Saguru.

“Because your curiosity is creating unwanted attention and trouble for us, we took you here as the first and final warning. Keep your noses out of the matters that aren’t yours.”

Was he referring to Kuroba’s case or Kudou’s? But either way, they are related in some way or another, it would be foolish to give up on what they have now. However, it is concerning that they were easily taken in. There’s nothing in the room that indicated the time of day, so Saguru doesn’t know how much time has passed, though likely a few hours, which gives them up to the day after tomorrow before their respective parent and/or guardian starts looking.

On hindsight, maybe they should’ve established a system that they’d need to contact them when night comes, if they don’t. Assume they have been kidnapped. But alas, they couldn’t—if they were late for some reason or another, it could’ve spelled trouble and called for a halt to their investigations, and likely get the information they’ve gathered into the wrong hands—as little as it was.

Before Nakamori can say anything, he cuts her attempts to refuse and get them nothing.

“We’re looking into multiple cases, as of the moment. Which matter are you referring to?” the man glares at him, but opens his mouth nonetheless—whatever he’s about to say, either a deflect or a leading answer, is lost when a smoother voice interrupts.

“You should be careful, I’ve heard that Superintendent Hakuba’s son fancies himself as a high school detective and is quite efficient at what he does.” Saguru immediately feels his hairs stand on edge, something in the back of his head setting off the alarms, and he turns his head to the side.

“And I’ve heard from a trusted source that has personally met him that he shouldn’t be underestimated.” a blonde man slowly steps out of the dark shade, lips pulled into a tad bit sinister smirk.

And immediately, Saguru’s mind flashes to the hidden corkboard Kuroba kept, pinning suspicious people likely involved in the Organization he’s against, or a different one—considering the difference of codename standards. The ones focused on Kid had an animal theme, meanwhile, this man before him had a liquor for a name—with a question mark on his objectives. Not much was known about him, but his photo was in better candid quality than the ones after Kid.

The image was taken when the man was serving in a café—from the top of the apron and an audience pleasing smile on his face. However, the codename was written boldly next to it.

Bourbon.

A massive change from Jackal…

From Snake…

From Spider.

And even with the dim lighting, there was no mistaking it, the man in front of them, is Bourbon.

“A… trusted source…” the other man trails off, clearly confused but more skeptical—though skeptical, he seemed to know who Bourbon is referring to nevertheless.

And Saguru wonders who the source is, from the man’s phrasing, it must be a mutual acquaintance—someone they must have met on a case, and likely separately—if they were so confident in his abilities.

“Is…” the man trails off carefully, when Bourbon doesn’t react, he continues. “…he certain?”  Bourbon smirks, and Saguru is reminded of that pink haired man living in the Kudou residence.

“Yes. Considering they’ve crossed paths more than once.” so, both men in front of him knows who the source is. Saguru only needed to scan every single case he went through the showcased his skills… which is every single one of them.

But he needed a mutual face, a face that appeared more than once.

Maybe someone unassuming? But they would have to remember him, for some reason. The meeting should be impactful enough for the other party to deem him worth remembering. Question was… who…?

Aside from fellow detectives, police officers, no other adult or teen stood out. Then, maybe an inside man in the police force? Now, that was harder to determine. Not to mention, most of them did not stand out—in fact, the ones that stood out most to him are his fellow civilian detectives.

However, aside from invited events that led to serial killing attempts in a secluded location. Meeting fellow civilian detectives happened rather rarely.

So, just who was this mutual source?

Then, Bourbon eyes them all, and another wave of chill rushes down his spine when the man smirks.

“Oh? It looks like you have me at a disadvantage. All of you seem to recognize me,”—not good, he was going to ask—“…I wonder why that is.” he smirks amusedly, and Saguru notes how Nakamori seizes, her breath hitching—and he didn’t need to see her eyes widening, before they narrowed, ready to yell at the man, and he better create a distraction before she could compromise—

“Or could it be…” he starts, stopping them in their tracks.

“Kuroba Kaito…”

Saguru curses, there was no way they could cover up Nakamori horrified gasp, which practically confirm things for them.

When the man’s smirk twitches, Saguru knew it was too late to try and somehow convince him out of that notion and assumption.

“It is about him, isn’t it?” even if no one were to answer him, or tried to mislead him. The look of certainty on his face was a dead giveaway. Whether they revealed it or not, the man already knew. Which leads to the question of why? Why was it necessary to interrogate them?

“I’d rather if you’d stop meddling in affairs that shouldn’t even matter to you.”

“Shouldn’t matter, how—” Nakamori tries to protest—and Saguru shares her sentiment—when the man, interrupts yet again.

“It’s frankly troubling us.”

Us…? Which us is he referring to?

“Excuse me, but we should—” Bourbon then cuts off his companion with an admonishing look.

“That’s no good… you can’t give away anything to them. After all, even now, they’re hungrily taking in what they can gather at the moment.” Bourbon’s ever-unrelenting smirk was seriously getting on his nerves. However, he wasn’t quite in the position to do anything about it. Not to mention, they weren’t giving away much.

Saguru isn’t even certain if they have Kuroba, despite the implications from his statement earlier. That could have been a bluff to get information from them.

(And because of the difference in the code naming; there was a chance that Snake and his bunch, and Bourbon are from different underground syndicates entirely. Which, frankly, did not speak of good news to them.

At all.

Because, if Bourbon was the one to react, then there was a chance that they’ve been digging in the wrong place all this time. And that they only got into this mess because of Kudou Shin'ichi.

Even if there were a few similarities between both disappearances, there were still discrepancies.)

“So, what should we do about them?” the man in the suit asks, rather… concerned? Was Saguru hearing right or was it only in his mind?

“Good question. If they’re willing to drop their investigation and go on with their lives. And of course, not tell anyone about this matter. All would be well, and we’ll let them go.” Bourbon replied decisively—which is strange.

That’s it…?

This is apparently echoed by his subordinate, who seems intent to ask the other man with his eyes, though Bourbon wasn’t even looking at him.

However, Nakamori latched on another part of the sentence and fired up before Saguru could even intervene.

“No way! In your dreams! We’re not giving up until we find and take Kaito home!”

And… there goes their chance of feigning deniability and continuing their investigation in secret.

(Though, Saguru doubts they wouldn’t be monitored if they were let go.)

The outburst, of course, further amuses the man. But Saguru knew it was too late to take it back. At this rate. They too will either disappear like Kuroba… or freed, but heavily monitored that they won’t even be able to have a sense of privacy.

And considering that these men had men inside the police force, it would be easy to create false charges against them that would require them being watched by their handpicked agents.

“That won’t do, Ms. Nakamori. Guess I’m afraid we’ll have to make sure that none of you slip our eyes. Whether its through keeping you in place, or keeping a close watch on you."

That’s an outcome Saguru’d rather not have. If his father were to get a wind of this, they can give their investigation progress—no matter how minute it had been—goodbye. And that’s not even including his mother’s reaction, nor Nakamori’s father.

(Even if there was a chance the Inspector would side with them. There was also a chance that he would ban his daughter and, by extension, him and Koizumi from it. To protect them.

And that’s not even counting Baaya’s and Koizumi’s parents or guardians'—whoever they are—reaction.)

Running through multiple ideas in his head, he tries to settle for one, when an all-too-familiar young voice cuts in.

“And… that won’t do. That approach would be too bold, Niisan.”

Why is he here?!

Suddenly, it feels like ice have filled his veins once again. Dread creeping up on him, squeezing him and stealing his breath… and not in a good way.

“That would catch attention, whether we want it or not, and considering the situation it would get more unwanted attention.” Saguru could hear his thundering heart echo together with the soft pitter patter of small, light feet against the floor. Drawing closer with each step.

“Oh? And what would you suggest we do?” (And Saguru notes, while amused—the man, Bourbon was actually willing to listen and consider it even.)

Nakamori and Koizumi may not have known or recognize the boy’s voice. But considering the boy made an impression on him on both cases they encountered. It was hard to forget the little one’s voice, especially the child himself.

(And that includes the different pitches his voice slips into concerning the present audience.)

… and he's the one Saguru overlooked.

He’s the source.

And he swore.

Bloody hell. He’s seven!

Finally close enough, Saguru sees the most unexpected person step into the room’s only source of light. Glasses glinting ominously, while a sharp smirk splayed on his lips.

Even without the gleam of light reflecting against the bespectacled boy’s lenses, Saguru knew without a doubt that the boy was observing them with those pair of too sharp, too calculative eyes.

Eyes that had always given him the impression, were too old for the boy.

The very same elusive boy that they’ve been trying to track down in hopes of finding something concrete on Kudou’s case.

And hopefully, Kid.

Nakamori gasps, and for once, Saguru wished he had the luxury to react like that. Instead his mind is spinning.

“You’re the Kid Killer…” the pure horror in her voice is one Saguru sympathizes with. If only, for a different reason.

Why as Edogawa involved with these men? What was his connection with them?

…Also, now that he thinks of it. Edogawa was usually (and mostly) involved on heists with the Suzuki Corporation (the very company that gave more airs on his ‘Kid Killer' moniker), and wasn’t there a bombing and terrorism attempt on that Mystery Train?

(Which, if he read right—and he’s usually hardly wrong—also, had a prior unrelated murder case?)

 Wasn’t that the very date Kuroba noted his encounter with Bourbon?

Saguru stares at the boy, a niggling presence in the back of his head. Something he overlooked… something about Kuroba, his heists and Edogawa—

No way.

“Oh yeah, that brat was there. Even though that old geezer wasn’t involved."

The latest heist before Kuroba’s disappearance had not involved the Suzuki. However, as Saguru had been London at that time, he couldn’t attend the heist where apparently another attempt on Kid’s life had been made (is what Inspector Nakamori privately shared with him). However, he heard from the Inspector that Edogawa was in attendance of that heist.

“Though, when Kid made off with the jewel he disappeared. Since there were no reports, and I did check with the Mouri’s they said he returned safely… now that you mention it. I didn’t see him after I saw him in the crowd by chance. He seemed surprised too. It was a Kid heist, of course I’d be there.

But anyways… I was worried, because these other men after Kid’s life are too dangerous." Inspector Nakamori’s words echoed in his head.

The last heist Kuroba went to.

“I was worried, because these other men after Kid’s life are too dangerous…”

The bombing on the train and Bourbon.

“… he disappeared.”

And the boy’s peculiar reaction at being spotted.

“I didn’t see him after I saw him by chance in the crowd. He seemed surprised too…”

And now, his own words joined the fray.

“If only we could talk to Edogawa-kun. While he doesn’t announce it, it’s clear that he’s directly related to Kudou Shin’ichi. He should know something. But we always miss him."

He’d always chucked those on bad timing, but now... and he remembers. What his father used to say to him as a wisdom in investigations.

A trait not taught, but learned.

“Remember Saguru, when dealing with a witness’ behavior, ‘Once is a message..." Edogawa then lifts his head to them, the gleam slowly being refracted away.

“…twice is a coincidence…” and he remembers the exact timing of when the younger Mouri claimed that the boy just left. The feeling of being watched.

“…but thrice? Thrice is a pattern."

His eyes makes contact with the boy’s… and he might just be projecting, or it could also just be the lighting.

But the normally sweet boy’s eyes were too dark.

…

In a dark room, with only two screens as it source of light. Steady beeps echoed, occupying the otherwise silent room, filled with only the air-conditioner’s hum, and other machines at work.

And steady breathing.

From the sole, messy haired, young occupant on the bed. An oxygen mask strapped to his face, a pulse monitor on his index finger and an IV tube on the back of his elbow.

The patient stayed still, no sign of gaining consciousness any time soon, not even a twitch.

Remaining in his blissful slumber.

|To Be Continued…|