Chapter Text
The rain had ceased before Shinichi even reached his house. He could hear the drip, drip, drip, of the remaining rainwater from the shadows, the slowing drops rapping on things hidden in darkness. If Shinichi was in any other situation he would probably be attempting to deduce which objects they were based on the sounds. Of course, practicing his detective skills could wait.
The gate to the Kudo mansion looked downright threatening this time at night. The spikes of the iron fence rose up into the inky sky and the latch was perched way up out of reach.
Frustration built as Shinichi reached up as far as he could. These stupid hands could only barely brush the latch. Shinichi shivered in his sopping wet clothes. So cold. Ugh it’s so cold. Cold cold cold cold , he thought, unable to shake the feeling.
“It’s awfully late. Are you lost?” A voice rang out.
Shinichi nearly jumped out of his skin at this, letting out a foreign squeak.
He craned his neck up to see the man who had spoken. The guy looked to be a giant from Shinichi’s angle; all belly and his white mustache obscured the upper half of his face. Shinichi, at his much lower height, was face to face with the bag the man was holding at his side.
“Hakase!” Shinichi exclaimed. Overwhelming relief flooded him— he nearly stumbled backward from the intensity of the feeling.
“Where are your parents, little boy?” The man asked. He bent down to the kid’s level, adjusting his giant, round glasses. “Woah.” The man’s expression became concerned.
The man, Hiroshi Agasa, was Shinichi’s lifelong neighbor and friend of his father’s. Always aloof but friendly, Agasa spent most of his time in his laboratory of a house tinkering away on passion projects. It wasn’t often he let anybody inside his home, probably so there weren’t any extra casualties when his inventions went awry.
“It’s…” Shinichi cringed hearing his whiny voice, “it’s me— Shinichi.”
The professor scratched his balding head, “Eh? Are you- you’re one of Shinichi’s relatives? You look just like him at that age.”
“Are you kidding?” The lack of recognition was starting to agitate the boy, “I’m Shinichi! Kudo Shinichi!”
Agasa struggled to find words for a moment. He asked, voice calm and well-meaning, “Are you looking for Shinichi? I can call him if you’d like. I can call his parents as well, but…”
“-My parents are in America.” Shinichi curtly finished for him. The small detective looked behind his shoulder before hissing, “Hakase, I’m not joking— it’s me. Listen, two men just tried to kill me. They gave me some- some pill and I just woke up like this. It’s a case!”
Agasa-hakase scanned the immediate area like John Quiñones was gonna walk out from behind a mailbox.
Shinichi shuffled awkwardly in his gigantic clown sneakers.
Deciding this wasn’t a prank, Agasa fumbled in his lab coat pocket and took out his janky, homemade mobile phone to call the cops.
Shinichi was aghast with betrayal, “Nonononono! What are you doing, old man?! We can’t go to the police!” he gasped, his shocked, round face illuminated by the streetlight above.
For whatever reason, Agasa slowly lowered his phone at the urchin’s request.
The young detective wracked his brain for evidence of his identity. If the professor turned him in the police would never believe his story looking like this . Shinichi inspected Agasa, vision flittering about. Using his supreme deductive abilities was sure to do the trick. “You- you just got back from Colombo, right?” Wow, that came out less confident than Shinichi’d hoped. He cleared his throat. “And you ordered the meatballs, the ones you get all the time. I can tell you were in a hurry.”
The professor held up his unmarked takeout bag innocently, “Are you hungry?”
“No- I’m- Ugh .“ Shinichi groaned in frustration. Was this guy so unobservant that he didn’t realize that wasn’t something he should know?
“Is there someone else you need me to call?” Agasa offered sympathetically.
“Just shut up and listen to me!” commanded Shinichi, “You’re Agasa Hiroshi. 53 years old. You’re living off of like three good patents and you always make weird, irrevlant- irrevelant- ivelera- dammit!” Everything felt slightly off, even his tongue. Shinichi focused on forming each syllable. “i-rre-le-vant inventions that never catch on! You’ve known me since I was a kid!”
Agasa’s bushy eyebrows knit in confusion.
Are you kidding me?! Shinichi dove into his memories for something else would convince the guy, “You drove me an hour to a Sherlockian dinner theatre that was so bad I deduced it and we left during the appetizers. You made me okay-tasting meals for months after my parents left. You helped Ran and her dad move out when her parents split.”
Agasa stared blankly. Shinichi gestured to himself frantically. “These are my clothes! You have a mole on your ass with a hair growing out of it!”
“What? Just-“ Agasa finally started to register what was being said to him, “- just come inside. Quick. You look rough.”
You don’t have to tell me twice . Shinichi thought, still acutely aware of his stinging injuries and damp attire. He was quickly ushered down the sidewalk and into his neighbor’s home.
The bright lights stung his eyes. The place looked more like a hospital lobby than a simple house— bright white, open, and modern. The kitchen and living room were one grand center area with large windows along the walls. Other, more private rooms, were relegated to doors along the far wall.
Agasa shut the door behind them and removed his muddy shoes.
“Lock it. Lock everything,” Shinichi demanded.
Agasa quirked an eyebrow at the kid’s insistence and locked the front door with a click. Was this really Shinichi? It seemed hard to believe, especially for a man of science. But this little boy really did look to be the spitting image of the kid.
The old man set his takeout bag on the kitchen island, next to an older takeout bag.
This guy really needs a wife, Shinichi thought.
“This is really peculiar. It’s just like going back in time,” Agasa mused. Shinichi didn’t like how much the man was staring at him. He felt like a bacterium under a microscope. “This is so weird. So peculiar.” Agasa continued, “It’s like the kid Shinichi never grew up. So peculiar.”
Shinichi rolled his eyes, “Yes, I know, it’s peculiar, okay?” Why does this voice make everything I say sound so annoying?! He thought irritably. Every time this sickly sweet soprano left his throat Shinichi felt like throwing himself off Reichenbach Falls.
Agasa ignored the comment and continued to study him. “The wounds on your head and face. Are they a side-effect of what happened to you? Looking like that, I mean. You’re bleeding. It’s a wonder nobody stopped you looking like that-“
“I fell,” Shinichi interrupted. “Ahem,” clearing his throat didn’t bring his voice back to normal. “Any external injuries didn’t come from the drug. As far as I can tell, even though my body… got like this, my reasoning doesn’t seem to be impaired.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this before. I have a lot of buddies who would kill to hear about this.” said Agasa.
That’s right- the professor had a legion of genius friends! Shinichi got a desperate idea. “Hey, Hakase, you‘re good with science, right?” he asked, “Can’t you make some sort of antidote that’ll restore my body? I need to gain back mass somehow. Maybe you could make a drug that allows my cells to reproduce rapidly or-“
“Shinichi, that’s called cancer. I’m not giving you cancer.”
“Oh.” Obviously.
Agasa rubbed his temples. It was abnormal to see the old man so stressed. “Shinichi, I make toys now.” He said, it seemed the weight of the situation was starting to befall him. “I mean, I could try, but I wouldn’t even know where to start with a drug like that. I’d need to study you first and figure out what on earth even happened before even attempting an antidote. Plus, all that stuff’s in the basement.”
Shinichi shot Agasa a deadpan glare, “And this seriously isn’t dire enough of a situation for you to go find stuff in your b-b-basement?” A chill ran through Shinichi. Probably a side effect of wearing sopping wet clothes in an air conditioned home.
“I guess you’re right,” The professor admitted, eyeing the apparent child’s condition. “But before we get to any of that you need bandaged up. First, take a shower,” he advised, “just let the water run over you for a while— to get the debris and blood off.”
Shinichi was privy to the way Agasa hovered over him like he was made of glass. It was annoying. “Fine,” the shrunken detective said.
The professor retreated to a side room and returned with a towel. “Do you need any help?”
In the shower?! Shinichi was about to give the man a game-winning kick to the jaw. “I’m fine,” he scowled.
Agasa shrugged and deposited the towel in Shinichi’s arms.
To Shinichi, it seemed like the towel had grown before his very eyes the moment it entered his grasp. It’s bulky weight was unexpected; and he thought that was distressing before he realized he had to reach up for the bathroom doorknob.
Ignoring fine details was unfortunately difficult for a detective.
Shinichi awkwardly opened the bathroom door while struggling to secure the giant towel with one arm. Agasa just watched. It honestly would’ve been more humiliating had the man helped.
Shinichi quickly shut the door behind him and chucked the towel to the ground.
He stood there in silence. His hair dripped and he shivered while undressing. The wet clothes hit the floor with a heavy thud. He looked down at this pale, foreign body.
Shinichi ran to throw up the toilet lid and dry heaved over the bowl. He didn’t have anything else left to vomit up so he just stood hunched over, gasping and gagging until it hurt.
Seeing himself in the dark reflection of a window or covered in giant clothes late at night was one thing. There were some barriers in place. But in the fluorescent light of his neighbor’s bathroom everything was on display— underdeveloped and undeniable.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD. Shinichi jerked. His heart raced. It was just a knock at the bathroom door.
“Is everything alright?” Agasa called from outside.
“I’m fine!” Shinichi spit sour bile into the toilet. The professor’s concern should be heartwarming but it honestly kind of ticked him off to be interrupted in what he thought was a private moment. Shinichi hoped throwing up was the only side effect of the pill he had to deal with.
——
After his warm shower, Shinichi’s eyes kept drooping shut and his head throbbed from behind his eyes. The moist steam from the bathroom trailed after him and faded into the expansive living room. He was clad in a giant t-shirt and Agasa’s most recent invention - boxers with a rubber band secured to cinch the excess waistband.
At Shinichi’s request the professor had the curtains drawn and everything locked.
Agasa pulled out a first aid kit and sat beside Shinichi on the couch. His weight on the cushion jostled the small boy slightly. The kid didn’t protest when Agasa began disinfecting his face and knees. He simply sat silently, deep in drowsy thought.
“Imagine if Shinichi showed up.” Agasa mused while dabbing a cotton ball of peroxide on his face, “You know, if Shinichi showed up this would be pretty odd to explain. You would have a lot of explaining to do.”
That dragged the boy out of his thoughts. “I’m not going to ‘show up,’ I’m right here,” Shinichi bitterly replied, wrinkling his nose and leaning away from the disinfectant.
“Right.” Agasa said, “So if this drug you were fed was a drug that was supposed to kill you, why do you look like this? People don’t just get younger. That’s impossible.”
“I don’t know.” Shinichi clenched his teeth. Even his jaw felt off. It sucked. Exhaustion threatened to overtake him but he forced his brain to operate regardless; that’s what he had trained it for, after all. “The men that attacked me said it was experimental. From an organization. From they way they referred to it I’m assuming the two guys were members. I tailed the guys and witnessed them receive hush money from a CEO. It was for weapons smuggling. They had code names… Vodka… and…”
The cotton ball had seeped up traces of blood and was slightly pink. Agasa plopped it down on the coffee table with a squelch and Shinichi was too tired to say anything about how disgusting that was. The old man sighed and looked into Shinichi’s deep blue eyes. “Listen, Shinichi,” he said carefully, “If this thing is as big as you think it is then those men will come looking for you,” The professor’s tone became dark. “Especially if they went out of their way to kill you for what you saw. If they’re a big organization that can afford to make things like that they’d definitely come looking for you to finish the job. For certain.” Agasa retrieved a fresh cotton ball from the first-aid kit and dabbed Shinichi’s wounded knees.
Shinichi huffed. At the end of the day, criminals are still just criminals, and there hadn’t been one he was unable to thwart. “I just need some leads. What I saw isn’t enough to trace their whereabouts. I need to figure out who that CEO is- Ow!”
Agasa pulled back slightly. “I’m just disinfecting it,” he defended innocently.
“Don’t press it so hard,” grumbled Shinichi.
Agasa blinked. It was as though a silver Dolorean had suddenly whisked the old man back to the past. How many times had he done this with Shinichi when he was little? How many times had the neighbor’s kid come pounding on his door with skinned knees from playing too rough outside and a serious face. Little Shinichi would whine about the stinging disinfectant but never once let himself cry. The retired professor hadn’t realized it before, but pulling out the first aid kid for the boy had been almost entirely muscle memory, albeit one he had to dust off.
Agasa chuckled. “Is it crazy to say I believe you now?”
Shinichi’s eyes bugged, “It took you that long?!”
——
Shinichi supposed it wasn’t unlike the man to not have an extra futon. Agasa had many friends but hardly any guests (much like Shinichi himself, who was exceedingly popular).
Instead, a comforter and a pillow were thrown onto the couch for him. By this time it was nearly two in the morning and Shinichi wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on functioning. All-nighters were usually easy for him… It was no matter, this was obviously a special exception.
It was weird, Agasa sitting on the end of the couch while he laid tucked in. The weight of the blanket was comforting but his neighbor’s presence here made him feel like an idiot.
“I’m going to sleep.” He announced and shifted so his back was to Agasa.
“Alright. Goodnight, Shinichi.” Agasa said.
“Uh, yeah,” he replied lamely.
“If you need me I’ll be in the basement.”
Shinichi’s ears perked as he listened to Agasa’s footsteps retreat downstairs, but not before a single click turned off all the lights. The room was engulfed in inky black darkness. Small pinpricks of green and red light blinked around the room, coming from the sheer amount of electronic devices Agasa owned. The high pitch, almost dog-whistle note of electricity stung Shinichi’s ears. The open floor plan made him feel exposed. Shinichi pulled the heavy comforter over his head.
He was so so unbelievably screwed. If his lifetime neighbor had trouble being convinced, nobody would believe he was really himself in this state. But did he even want them to? Even if Shinichi was recognized, the men in black may catch wind that he lived the ordeal and come to finish the job. He couldn’t go to the hospital. He couldn’t go to the police. Hakase couldn’t fix him. It wasn’t fair. He was under the impression that a detective was untouchable. Always above the cases. Now he was a victim in one. It wasn’t fair. It’s not fair !
Shinichi jerked himself out of it. What the hell?! What was he doing? He mentally chided himself for being so ridiculous. A case was still a case, and there had never been one he couldn’t solve.
Exhaustion worked wonders and Shinichi entered an abysmal, dreamless sleep.