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[mintchocolateleaves]

Requiem (1/??)

And at long last!! The Delinquent AU I’ve mentioned in the past. This is part one, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: When he was a child, Shinichi had thought he’d become a detective. Now he’s halfway there, looking into a series of attacks against delinquents in Tokyo, trying not to become a victim himself. Delinquent!AU

"Listen," Kudo Shinichi says, his tone bored as if he's had enough of the conversation, has had to repeat it multiple times. "How many times do I have tell people around here that the Mouri Agency is off limits?"

There's an edge to his voice, and when Hamada Satoru glances up at the teen, he shudders. The ice in the other boys glare...

"I-" He stutters to get the words out, bites down on his lip. Beside him, his two friends are unconscious, Kudo having knocked them both out with heavy footed kicks and brass-knuckled punches. "I-"

"Let me guess," Kudo sighs, leaning forward in his crouch, squinting at the teen, "you didn't think?"

Hamada glances at Kudo - when he'd first seen the guy, the cracked skin of his knuckles hadn't been enough to make him disregard the hello kitty plaster just beside his eyebrow, hadn't been enough to force him to get serious.

A mistake. They're lowered their guard because of a stupid plaster, and now two of them are out cold, and Hamada's pretty sure that he's next.

"I'm sorry-" Hamada says, and his panic echoes from his vocal chords, guttural, a primal fear that burns under the intensity of Kudo's glare. He feels almost like he's being branded, and maybe, in Kudo's thoughts, he is.

"Good," Kudo says, pushing himself back up to his feet, looming over the other boy. "You'll keep other people from messing with the Mouri's then, meaning no more hassling Ran or her father, you understand?"

Hamada nods.

"Nice talk," Kudo says, the anger fading from his voice. "Don't let it happen again."

There is no time to nod in response. Kudo brings his foot up to Hamada's rib cage, aims a kick that's just weak enough to leave him winded without damaging him. Even though Kudo's holding back, Hamada gasps, attempting to catch him breath - by the time he does, Kudo is gone.

"Oh Shinichi," Ran says an hour later, when he collapses beside her on the sofa. They're inside the Mouri Agency, the heating on, but a slight draft blows from the broken window Shinichi had gotten angry about. "You know that I hate it when you fight."

He doesn't respond, raises his hands so that she can clean his bleeding knuckles. She'll want to wrap them in bandages - she always does - but Shinichi's long since drawn the line at plasters.

"Won't you stop?" She asks after a moment, dabbing at his cuts, moving to get the antiseptic cream she keeps in the first aid kit. She’s bought it primarily for his use, and frankly, it’s extremely useful. They've had this conversation a lot, even though it always seems to provoke the same reactions. Or rather, lack of reaction.

"I don't go out looking for trouble Ran," Shinichi sighs, flexing his fingers while she uncaps the antiseptic cream. The skin around his knuckles is sore, but only if he touches the wounds. Maybe it had hurt once, but with the amount he's fought, he's pretty certain that his nerve endings have become desensitised to carefully timed punches. "I only fight if someone gives me a reason to."

"This is the third fight this week."

"And it would have been five," Shinichi continues, "if I was the sort of person who fought without a reason."

Ran lets out a long suffering sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her feet tap against Shinichi's the movement comforting as they sit together in silence. It's moments like this, simply sitting beside Ran, that makes Shinichi wish he was a better person. He wishes he could walk away from fights, that he didn't skip school for something more interesting, but some habits are simply too difficult to break.

"How's your dad's case going?" He asks, after the silence settles around them like a blanket, warm yet suffocating. He glances at the file that lays abandoned on the table, wonders what crime is being investigated now. Ran's father doesn't necessarily like him, but they've got an unspoken agreement that Shinichi is welcome in the agency as long as he doesn’t drag Ran into any trouble.

He receives a smile, although it's strained. Ran says, "you know my dad. He's not the best at solving more complex cases."

No, Shinichi thinks, he's certainly not.

"So it's a bit rough..." Shinichi pauses, glances away as he adds, "do you want me to get my father's help on it?"

It's an offer he'll only give to Ran. He's not on bad terms with his parents, per se, but there's a distance there that none of them have bothered to bridge since the elder Kudo’s left to live in America. He knows that she finds it touching, that he'd suggest to connect that gap without any ulterior motive.

"Thanks," she says, linking her ankle around his, "but it's okay. Dad will only get annoyed if a novelist were to help him close his case."

"My dad's solved lots of cases though."

Ran shrugs, "that'd probably only make things worse."

Shinichi decides that it's probably best not to question it. Instead, he grins, leans his head back against pillows.

"Can you imagine how pissed your dad would be if I were a detective." He laughs, "I'd totally steal all of his cases."

Ran raises a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shuddering with barely audible laughter.

"Oh my God," she says, "I think he'd actually hate you if you were."

Shinichi doesn't know, exactly, what he's waiting for, but he knows something is going to change.

He's not expecting his everyday life to remain the same, continuous, drone that drags on. Part of him suspects that street fights are going to increase - recently Tokyo seems to be electrified with violence, and he tastes blood on his tongue as if he's been punched, can feel bloodlust at every street corner.

"I don't understand it Ran," Shinichi says, on one of the rare days where she's managed to convince him to play the role of good student. "Everything just seems off recently."

She gives him a look, the expression odd, before glancing at the school gates. She knows something that she doesn't, Shinichi concludes, and he's not sure whether she wants him to ask about it or not. He decides there's no harm in asking, and as they throw their shoes inside their school lockers, swapping for indoor wear, he does.

"Well," Ran says quietly, "Dad said that there's been a rise in street crime recently, and that a few people have been hospitalised already..."

Shinichi is silent as he waits for her to continue. He turns after a short period, eyes widening at the accusatory look he receives. He says, "listen, I may get into a lot of fights, but I wouldn't send someone to a hospital."

The fact that she doubts him for even a second hurts. Three unbearably long seconds of uncertainty stretches out, until Ran nods, offers him a smile and says, "I believe you."

Something squirms inside his stomach - Shinichi is pretty sure that it's not butterflies.

He finally finds out why he's been feeling so nervous.

Sitting in the waiting room of the local hospital, Shinichi bites down on his lip. He's not exactly a gang leader, isn't in charge of anyone but himself, but when you're a delinquent and society judges you for every action you make, it isn't strange to develop a network with other troublemakers. As the one who's not lost a fight against those in his particular faction... he's the current figurehead.

It changes when the current leader loses. So far, no one has taken Shinichi’s role.

There is something about never losing fights: It creates a false impression that a person can be invulnerable. With one of his fellow troublemakers hospitalised, Shinichi finds himself cursing, blaming himself for not sending out word about the delinquents that have been targeted recently.

In his mind, he reminds himself that if Icarus can burn, then they can bleed. It's almost a shocking reality. He should have warned them.

"Visitors are allowed inside now," a nurse says. Shinichi nods, pulling himself up. From the text he'd received during his lunch hour, he'd been informed that the victim, Mioda, hadn't suffered any fatal injuries. A few broken bones - ribs mainly - and while Shinichi knows it's bound to hurt like hell, at least it's not... worse.

Despite this, he still lets out a sigh of relief at the absence of beeping, the heart rate monitor switched off in the corner of the room. The machine isn't necessary - that's good. The attacks aren't escalating at least, injuries yes, but nothing requiring more than a day in hospital.

"Kudo," Mioda says when he notices Shinichi's shadow. His arm is in a sling, his torso bandaged - he'd been right about the broken ribs. Other than the additional swelling around his left eye, he looks like he usually does. "I'm fine, I swear."

There's respect in his voice - the kind that only people who've fought the other and come off worse can develop. Shinichi remembers when they'd first met - Mioda had tried to hit on Sonoko, one of Ran's closest friends, and had gotten mad when Shinichi had intervened and warned him to back off.

They'd long gotten past the fight, and since Mioda has reevaluated the part of himself that believed he was entitled to woman - or rather, after Shinichi had beaten the belief out of him - they're typically on friendly terms.

"Broken bones," Shinichi points, looks over the other boy again, "is your- Did they break your arm?"

Mioda nods, looks down at his cast and sighs. He says, "I'm pretty sure the doctors said part of the bone is fractured. I dunno though, it felt more like my arm was shattering."

It takes a moment for Shinichi to process that someone is going around breaking people's bones. It hadn't quite registered at first, when Ran had told him, but now the knowledge swims in his head, pressure building until it's throbbing against his skull.

"Have you caused any trouble recently?" Shinichi asks, leaning against the wall of the hospital room. It's not a private room, but the other beds seem strangely empty for a Tuesday afternoon. It gives them the privacy to delve into Mioda's story, to learn about whoever's doing something like this.

Shinichi's going to have to deal with whoever it is quickly, before anyone else can get hurt... before it does escalate. It'd be stupid to think that the problem will go away if he simply overlooks it.

Mioda shakes his head, "not anyone outside of the usual group."

Not anyone who'd go as far as this, goes unsaid, but Shinichi's certain it's what they're both thinking. It means either someone they do know has finally gone too far, or the attacker is someone completely new to them. Which... is weird, seeing as Shinichi's name is well known amongst their faction, and he's usually dragged into altercations fuelled by damaged egos and people wanting to claim the title 'best in the East'.

They don't - Shinichi has the title for a reason.

"What can you tell me about the guy? Any defining features so I can find him-" Shinichi pauses, "or her?"

He's learned the hard way from Ran that girls can be just as lethal as boys - more so, even, because of the stereotype that they're fragile and defenseless.

Raising his good arm, Mioda runs a hand through his hair. He tugs at the dyed strands, as if the sharp pain helps him focus on the memory of previous agony.

"A white mask," he says, "pulled up so that I could only see his eyes. And - dark hair. I don't know how long, or if it was natural..." he points to his swollen eye, "I couldn't see properly."

Shinichi takes the information and uses it to filter through anyone he knows. It narrows it down - a large chunk of the delinquents he knows have decided to stand out by dyeing their hair blonde or other outrageous colours - but not by much. Dark hair is pretty common in Japan.

"Anything else?"

"He was angry," Mioda says, glancing away, "didn't say anything, but you could see it - no... not anger... there was this wild energy buzzing around him."

That cuts down his list more than the dark hair does - most of the people he's fought in the past are just looking for trouble because they find it amusing. There are only so many delinquents who fight because they've got a volatile temper - they're the one's at risk of becoming criminals and falling out of the ‘deviant’ group completely.

It's still a large list, but at least now there are less people he'll need to look into.

"And oh-" Mioda continues, "he had a weapon. It was long, stick-like... bulky, but not metal or nothing... It was wooden."

Shinichi frowns - he's pretty sure now that he's got his first suspect... but without a motive everything seems... off.

Leaving the hospital behind, Shinichi decides that he's probably going to have to make his way to the train station at some point. Not today - obviously not today, not when he's promised Ran he'll join her on the dinner date she's planned for her parents.

(Not the smartest idea, Mouri Kogoro and Kisaki Eri haven't shown anything but contempt for one another since the break up eight years ago. Plus, Shinichi's pretty certain that Ran's mother hates him. It's probably due to the judging looks she sends every time she sees him.)

Tomorrow then, he decides. He doesn't care much for a school system that doesn't push him to his limits, is bored of calculus anyway. He just needs to make sure not to tell Ran about it before he's on the train, because, knowing her, she'll risk being late to drag him into another day of hell.

It's kind of her though... to attempt to reintegrate him into school life. Even if it's also irritating.

Shinichi nods to himself, readies himself to head home and freshen up before the meal. He'll need to change into smart clothes, which is going to be odd compared to the messy uniform he usually goes around wearing. If Ran makes him tuck his shirt in again...

A sigh - he knows that dressing up only makes him look like he's trying to be something he's not. He knows that he looks strange in a suit, because there are slowly healing scabs on his knuckles. The scar beneath his lip leaves him feeling mismatched whenever he wears a tie, as if he's pretending to be someone he's not.

Well - his mother's an actor. And she's taught him enough that for Ran's family dinners, he can pretend.

Dinner is its usual disaster.

Kogoro and Eri argue, and Shinichi isn't surprised at all. He's shocked, actually, that they manage to get through the starter without tossing verbal grenades at one another, and it's not even until they order dessert that the dinner table becomes a battlefield.

Shinichi gives Ran a look, pulls at the tie she's ordered him to wear, and offers her a small smile. Her responding smile is weak, and he grabs her hand from where they are sat next to one another. He tilts his head in question, points at the bottom of the table.

Her parents are too immersed in their argument to notice when Shinichi and Ran shuffle from their chairs, scooting under the table like they had once when they'd been children. There's not much room, but they lie next to one another, smiling.

"It's going bad again," Ran whispers, and she's not crying, not exactly, but her eyes are watery. "I should have known. It always ends up like this."

"They got through the starter and main though," Shinichi says, offering another, lopsided grin. Ran smiles back at him, wipes away a few tears, before nodding.

"I just wish they'd gotten through dessert as well..." Ran sighs. There's a wistful echo to her voice, as if she knows that what she's asking for is impossible, but it's something she wants regardless of fact. Shinichi knows it's the thing she wastes all of her wishes on - birthdays, eyelashes, wishbones, Mouri Ran has tried it all.

"It's an improvement from last time," Shinichi tries, "we're just taking slow steps. They'll get there."

Ran nods.

"When we leave, do you mind going on ahead? I want to talk to them about it..."

Shinichi squeezes her hand, tries for another smile. "Of course."

He's halfway down the street from the restaurant when he feels the wind whisper against his neck, chills pulsating against his spinal cord. Shinichi turns, looks around for the sight of any eyes watching him from back alleys, and finds nothing.

It's still light out - one of the good things about summer is that the evenings are lighter, and he doesn't need to worry about any sudden attacks when he can see the shadows of anyone attempting to sneak up on him.

So when he sees the shadow, Shinichi is expecting it. He's ready for the tap on his shoulder – it's heavy, but not painful, and if the shadow had been moving any quicker he'd have dodged it. Instead, he takes a step forward, pivots and looks up at his... visitor.

A self-deprecating smile graces his lips. “How nice of you to make it so that I don't have to pay you a visit later on. Thanks Hattori.”

He receives a sour expression in response. Shinichi isn't sure why he's on the receiving end of such anger – he knows that the guy is usually a wild card, his temper controlling him more often than not, but they've never really had any problems before. The Osakan has always stayed away from Shinichi's business, and he's offered the same in response.

“Listen,” Hattori Heiji says, anger boiling out of him, almost uncontrollable in it's intensity, I don't have issues with ya Kudo, but if ya think it's alright to put two o' my guys in th' hospital–”

He raises the bokken he always carries with him, glares. His point is clear – in his hands it's not just a training sword.

“I thought it was you who put my guys in hospital.” Shinichi frowns, crossing his arms. He's certain that Hattori's bokken can break bones if the force is great enough and if it's at the right angle. He'd been certain, with all of the facts Mioda had given him, that Hattori was the most likely suspect.

Hattori's anger sizzles, but subsides, as he tilts his head. His ponytail swishes behind him, the hair messy, but not overly so. “Why would I hurt yer guys?”

Shinichi shrugs, “apparently, my guys were attacked by a dude with a weapon,” - he points at the training sword - “and a short temper.” - he moves his fingers to Hattori himself. “What'd they say to you?”

Hattori squints, lets out a sigh, and scratches the back of his neck. “Was speaking Tokyo-ben, had th' same weedy but strong build like you do... dark brown hair...”

It takes a lot of effort to suppress his own sigh, but Shinichi does. He says, “it looks like we have a shared problem. The guy's attacking Osaka as well?”

A nod. The movement, although small, leaves Shinichi with a stomach that is churning, unease filling his blood, replacing any adrenaline that might have been present. He feels chills run along his spine, the caress of a ghost brushing fingers against the cord that keeps him functioning.

“Two guys so far...” Heiji shoves one of his hands into his pockets. “Nothin' too severe yet, a few broken bones, but nothin' permanent.”

It matches the M.O of the attacker in Tokyo – a gang then? No. Mioda had only seen one person, and Ran had told him how the other delinquents had only seen a single attacker as well. Either there's two people operating under the same M.O in two different cities... or he and Hattori really do have a shared problem.

Shinichi bites the inside of his cheek. Signals for Hattori to follow after him. “Tell me what your guys know.”

[Next Chapter]