#nothing like making a 17 year old put down the possessed corpse of his father

[themanicmagician]

[intpstyle]

Detective Conan Meta: Trauma, being seen & the Inner Child

Okay, so it’s 6AM and I woke up with this essay half-formed in my mind and I need to talk about DC. Yesterday, I saw a quote on tumblr that read

“to be loved is to be seen”

and it literally haunted my dreams. I dreamt of Shinichi being unable to tell Ran who he is for so long now (we won’t go into the half a year debate (in this post)) and it got me thinking about the unbearable loneliness of it all. Then I thought of Heiji and of how liberating it must be for Shinichi that some people do know him for who he really is - that some people see him, that some people are able to love him, all of him, because they’ve recognised him even when he looks like a child. And that got a chain reaction of symbolism going in my brain because THINK ABOUT IT, Shinichi is literally forced to live as his own inner child.

So, we open with this lovably weird 17-year-old (fuck no, in the manga he’s actually only 16) with barely any survival skills who’s been left alone in a huge mansion because his parents went adios, who doesn’t have a whole lot of close friends because he always found it difficult to connect with others because he’s so focussed on his detective work and who, when he finally manages to ask the love of his life out on a date and inevitably stumbles over another murder, claims that “you get used to it”, that corpses don’t affect him, that nothing really affects him and, worst of all, he actually means it. This is our protagonist. He’s All Grown Up. He always tried to be All Grown Up. Frankly, with parents like these, he always had to be All Grown Up. And it’s okay! Because he found something he loves doing (finding the truth, restoring justice, helping people) and he’s good at it and people actually love him for it (look at all these fan letters, Ran, look at them!)

And then Ran (bless you, angel child) starts crying because - because so many reasons. One, she’s still affected by what happened. Two, she sees the love of her life being strong - and he always has and had to be strong; it must be so bloody exhausting and he’s not even aware of how tired he is, but to ask him to take a break, to take a look at what all this death and suffering and loneliness really means, to take it in, to stop, would be to take the one thing away (apart from her, but she doesn’t know that) that keeps him stable and grounded and to risk having him fall apart. I don’t think she knows this consciously, but Ran is empathetic and has been around Shinichi all her life - this, I think, is the moment it really hits her that this brutality (a literal decapitated corpse that spews blood like a fountain on a roller coaster!!!) has become her best friend’s “normal”. She is scared. She is worried. And she shows it.

And then Shinichi (bless you, cool child) tries to play it down, to make her feel better, to show her that this is nothing to despair over. He, too, is trying to be considerate of this incredible girl who always takes on other people’s burdens and their pain and grins and bears it. But it isn’t all compassion - he frankly also does not have the tools to deal with someone being so vulnerable and innocent and, dare I say?, child-like. And what does he do? Does he stay and engage with her side of things? Does he hear her out and consider that he HAS become callous and somewhat addicted to shedding light on the dark sides of other people? That he feels uncomfortable feeling the light turned back on himself? No! No, of course not! He’s 16 and has the emotional range of a tea spoon (#relatable). Instead, he latches onto the next sign of mystery and turns back to his quest for truth where he feels safe and needed. He LITERALLY tells Ran to “go ahead” and that he’ll “catch up” and boy, will he ever (emotionally).

We all know what happens next: he bites off more than he can chew. He stumbles over a case that even he admits is “serious” and is LITERALLY hit over the head with the realisation that this - socio-economic corruption, systemic criminal organisations, being vulnerable and opening up to a loved one - is the world of adults and he is NOT ready for it. So he, like everybody else, is given the choice to call it quits or to choose life, start over and re-learn the things he missed out in childhood to become an adult. He becomes his inner child again (the first chapter literally ends with the dialogue

“You okay!? Can you stand up, little boy?”

“Huh?”

and he’s trying. He’s trying to stand up, okay?) and it smarts. In this old/new form, he is taken care of, but not taken taken seriously by the policemen (”You must’ve been scared”) and it freaks him out that they treat him (the master detective!) like a child again. At this height, he fails to get into his own house (some more symbolism right there) and he is not recognised by Professor Agasa until he shows him some impressive deduction work, demonstrating that this really is at the core of his character - he enjoys and is good at mysteries. That was never the problem. Neglecting just about everything else was (- the same goes for OG Holmes, I’d argue). Seeing how the situation he went through literally (damn that’s a lot of literally) turned Shinichi back into a child, Professor Agasa warns him not to inflict the same traumatic damage on others - especially since the situation is not yet resolved. (...but Agasa’s involvement is another can of worms)

There’s a whole other post in Shinichi’s choice to call himself “Conan Edogawa” and wearing his father’s glasses as well (aka trying to redefine his identity by viewing the world through the lense of the people he admired (notably his father’s frames without the lenses though!)), but the most interesting thing happens when Ran shows up. He tries, desperately, not to be recognised - not to be seen - by her in this form because it’s not HIM (it is though) and because it would involve Ran in danger; would put her in the adult world he couldn’t deal with and couldn’t protect her from, thus, ironically, infantilising her and (although in an attempt to be heroic, nonetheless still) limiting her agency.

And this is where the irony really kicks in - because Ran finds it much easier to talk to this raw, vulnerable version of himself that he doesn’t allow her to see as a “grown-up” 16-year-old. It is now, as a child that asks straight-forward questions, that he learns that Ran really does love him and that she knows the good (dependable, brave & cool), as well as the bad (full of himself, bit of a jerk and obsessed with mysteries) sides of him better than he does. At the very moment, he, touched by her vulnerability and wanting to open up, decides to tell her the truth, he is again reminded of the Men in Black by Kogoro falling down the stairs like a sack of potatoes and he (dependable, brave & cool) decides not to involve anyone in the mess he brought upon himself until he can stand up to the world of adulthood that he shrank from.

The beauty of the series is that Shinichi slowly realises, bit by bit, drop by drop, excruciating chapter after excruciating chapter, that the way for him (an INTP) to become an adult is precisely by letting others see him as he is and thus forming lasting, real and dependable relationships (by developing his Fe). This tragically begins with Akemi Miyano (a first step and another reminder that he is not capable enough yet), is slowly built up with the Detective Boys (who are honestly so important for him), continues with Ai (#bestpartners, for both of whom Professor Agasa, the eternal child-inventor, is a safe haven where they can catch up on what they missed out on, Ai obviously much more so than Conan), reaches a really, really sweet high with Heiji (#bestbromance), a rather dissatisfying conclusion with his parents (who, and I cannot stress this enough, decide the best way to convince their traumatised son that his life is in danger is to point a literal gun (okay, it’s a pistol) at his face in disguise) and climaxes with Eisuke Hondo (at which point he is confident enough to proclaim who he is even while still in the form of a child (although that doesn’t make the context of the situation any less stupid (thus proving that he IS still a love-struck teenager at the end of the day))). tl;dr By being both the professional adult “Sleeping Kogoro”, as well as the cooky child “Conan Edogawa” at once, Shinichi can play with both facets of his teenage life until he reaches a level of stability that allows him to integrate the child mind into his adult mind - and that will be the point at which he’ll be able to fully become (not just temporarily play the role of) Shinichi Kudo.

PS: It is also interesting to compare Ai’s and Shinichi’s approaches to being stuck in their childhood selves. Shinichi, not as scarred and slowly building up a network of people he trusts, is eager to move on and begs Ai to give him the temporary antidote as often as he can - he WANTS to grow up and be a grown-up so badly. There is so much (Ran) waiting for him there.

Ai, on the other hand, is much more cautious and warns him not to jump the gun. To her, much more scarred and still rather alone, this is an invaluable second shot at life and she is as careful with it as she humanly can, constantly worrying and on the look-out that someone could drag her back to the prison of responsibilities and obligations. That’s why it was SUCH a pivotal moment for her when she used and realised the use of her adult form when she saved the Detective Boys from the fire. She, too, is slowly connecting the two halves of herself but I suspect that it’ll take her an entire childhood to do so. (Also, interestingly, as an INTJ, she puts down her roots in a very different way from Conan. She cherishes her new relationships and protects them fiercely, but the real signs of her settling down ever-so-slowly is her growing willingness to reconstruct her internal moral system (Fi) and to acquire and find security in material possessions (Se), like her designer handbags and her little football-man-phone-strap.)

[thejordipie]

in efforts to stave off boredom and to avoid doing dishes it is time to tell a STORY that's right! bunker down kiddos, it is s t o r y t i m e . This is a tale about ghosts, murders, and being abandoned in a moment of need and you bet your buttons it's not only all true, it happened to ME: It was the first night of moving, and by that I mean we had driven all freaking day and had only managed to get only 7 or so hours away, maybe. So we had split into two vehicles; the van, which Thing 2 had dubbed "The Man Van" since it housed The Father, The Brother, The Brother II and Dogs 1, 2 and 3. The Mother and the Me followed close behind in the suzuki that I tried to dub "Suzy" but it never quite caught on like " The Man Van". I do suck at naming things. Except for /my/ car, the SS Huckleberry aka Frankencar aka heart of my hearts and love of my life. But I digress. So Me, in the smaller car, watching Iron Man on my laptop (because that's just who I am (this week, lie in the grass next to the mausoleum i'm just a notch in your bedpost you're just a line in this song)) and I notice on the radio chatter (sidenote, it was legit radio chatter, we had walkie talkies we used to communicate across vehicles since this is The Olden Days and phones did Not Exist) that they're choosing a place to settle in for the night. This is a welcome plan for me, since I am good at one thing and one thing only, and it is Sleeping. So then we pull up to the motel. Now, couple things to know about me: 1) upon seeing this hotel, my Spidey Senses kicked in. I know I just said that I am only good at sleeping, but my spidey sense is nothing to turn your nose up at. This thing is freaky accurate. Some examples: the morning my grandma died, everything was off and felt a little hazy and I felt like I was supposed to be sad; this was before my Grandpa called to tell my mom. Another time, I was walking back from a wedding reception to my airbnb and every time I tried to turn down a specific road, I got sick to my stomach and so uneasy and every time I turned around and walked away, I immediately felt fine. Another time I was following a thunderstorm down a gravel road and the rain hit HARD and I knew if I didn't turn around something was going to Happen and I kept going trying to live my Twister Dreams (tm) and almost got stuck before I had the good sense to turn back and get myself out of that mudslide I was driving into. So when we pull up to the motel and my caveman brain starts yelling "NO TURN BACK" I am on edge and on guard from the start. 2) I am a Percy Jackson aficionado and, by extension, Greek mythology. And I think the place was called Osoyos or something else unintelligible and unpronounceable but my brain immediately snapped to "CIRCE" due to the similarities in spelling between "Odyssey" and this motel. For those of you that don't know, Circe is not exactly the b e s t host and a place that reminds you of her does not leave you with warm, fuzzy, "oh boy i can't wait to be willingly unconscious in there" feelings. I was not the only one to share these misgivings. Thing 1 and Thing 2 and Me the Perfect, tried to convince the Parentals to keep driving. The Fathbert got all "hURrrAHG we Stay HeRe" and started to bring all the things into the room. But even Mothership was sort of considering sleeping in the car to make sure none of the Unsavory Youths of the area tried to steal any of our loot. But Father and his, "HrAr hRUgH I deCiDe" mood decreed that we stay there. But here's the thing. The Parentals, Thing 2, and dogs 1, 2, 3 all had a room together. Thing 1 and I? a b a n d o n e d . They might as well have drawn a pentagon/pentagram/whichever one summons the devil on the floor and opened a portal to Outer Darkness and rolled us in. Because they got us a DIFFERENT ROOM. The mothership, still retaining a semblance of maternal instinct while father had clearly left his behind on the island we fled not 6 hours ago, walked us to the room next door. It felt much like a walk to the gallows must have. We opened the door and the musty air hit us. I was just about to make an excuse about seeing bugs in the bed and let's sue the place and leave, when I actually! saw! a bug! on the bed! Just! Jumping? It was jumping on the bed. Mother and Brother saw it too, and yet she made us stay, What did we look like, I wonder, the 17 and 14 year old BEGGING our mother to stay and not leave us while she backed out the room, swatting off my clinging hands and yelling that she loves us while she clearly proved the opposite. The door shut. Thing 1 and I stood alone. The decision was quickly made to not even bother brushing our teeth or changing into sleeping outfits; the sooner we were asleep, the sooner we were awake, the sooner we were leaving. I remarked that the place looked like the Bates Motel. Thing 1 straightened up, marched into the kitchenette and started opening cupboards and drawers at an intense speed. It wasn't until he started on the freezer/fridge that I asked what he was doing. "Looking for body parts," he says, while holding an opaque container he pulled from the otherwise empty fridge. Our eyes slowly drop to the closed lid. We stare at it for a moment, exchange a wide eyed stare with each other. He purses his lips, shakes his head, and then he puts it back in the fridge. I don't think we ever actually opened it. I promise something terrible was in it though, because the spectacular Spider-Dan (it's me, I am Spider- Dan-- I tried to make a play on Jordan and Spider-Man and that was the best I could do) was in full precognition mode. My teeth felt ridiculously grimey from a day of snacking and I eventually opted to brush my teeth while Brother watched the trailer for Psycho on his phone to compare my analysis of it looking like the Bates Motel with what footage he could find (in the end he agreed, and I'm to this day not sure if that counts as a win in that particular debate for me or not). Let me tell you though, I walked into that bathroom, toothbrush in hand, saw that clear shower curtain closed around the tub, and turned and walked back out. Thing 1 stood on the same spot I left him. He looked up from his phone where I can hear the familiar SCREE SCREE SCREE of the Psycho theme and says, monotonously and with very wide eyes, "Ahhh." I let loose a garbled giggle/scream and plucked up all the courage I pretended I ever had and marched back into the bathroom. But you folks better believe I gave that tub a wide berth lest I stumble upon the remains of whoever owned whatever organs were in that container in the fridge, and I kept the door open, and I brushed my teeth for maybe 7 seconds and I kept my back to the mirror so nothing could POP UP behind my shoulder suddenly. I come out of the bathroom, probably still foaming at the mouth with with toothpaste and Thing 1 and I stare distastefully at the beds. I lunge for the non-bug one but the brat gets there first so I tromp over to the other one, convinced I am about to become that outlier who should not have been counted and eat 10000000 bugs in my sleep in one night. I start to ask Thing 1 to turn off the light I left on in the bathroom in my haste to claim a bed since he's closest and our eyes meet again and a wordless communication that only siblings can understand is passed between us-- the light stays ON. Well into our teen years we may be, but we have been abandoned by our parents and not given any of the guard dogs for protection and dadgummit we are pretty sure we're about to be murdered and if anyone is going to judge us for sleeping with the lights on it is NOT gonna be Norman "Mummy's Boy" Bates as he chops us to bits. Brother/Thing suddenly yells, "OW" and I yell "AHHHH" and I start to think that this is it, this is how we go out, will people ever know how cool I was beneath this thick layer of lame. Then I yell, "WHAT??" because no further, "help I'm being murdered" sounds came from the corpse that used to be my brother. Instead he says, "It just.... felt like someone poked me in the eye." And I am so relieved that we are Not Dead, that I try to make a joke. It backfires. "Oh. Ha. Maybe it's the ghost of whoever stayed here last." We both start to laugh and then cut off abruptly and at the same time as the terror and potential truth to the statement sink in. The eerie silence of the sudden absence of uncomfortable laughter haunts me to this day. I got chills just typing about it. I normally cannot ever sleep on my back. I gotta be facedown like a starfish or I will not sleep. That night I lay flat on my back, ready to kick upwards (STREET SMARTS) at whatever entity tried to do me in overnight. I was closest to the door and the window which meant I was either a) gonna get eaten first or b) could make a better run for it while it ate Thing 1. I fell asleep contemplating whether or not he was worth saving; I had a spare brother after all, how many does one really need? As suddenly as I fell asleep, I woke up. And I slept with my glasses on, but they had shifted through the night, so I could see /something/ at the foot of my bed and I started to run through the whole, "here we go, take me quickly Death, I have a very embarrassing need to not annoy the neighbours with my screams and death gargles" thing again when I focused and realized it was just Thing 1. He only looked like he was hovering at the foot of my bed. He was actually stood at the door with his face pressed to the peephole. "What.... what are you doing?" I ask. He peels his face from the peephole and turns what can only be described as a wild and unhinged eyes on me. "Waiting," he says simply, and turns back to the door and smacks his face back to the peephole. I decided then and there that he got possessed through the night. Good bye brother, you annoyed me only most of the time, and your dry wit was appreciated, but I always said there could be only one middle child and here I am, still standing, while your soul has been devoured by a demon. C'est la vie. I do remember that the night before, it was determined we would be summoned to return to the car when the others woke up and had taken the dogs out, but I don't remember if he called or if they called but almost immediately after that exchange, he was on the phone to the Parentals. He made some noncommittal grunts, he nodded, said "Bye" and then left. LEFT. HE LEFT ME. You better believe I /SCRAMBLED/ outta that room. Swooped outta that bed, crammed my toothbrush in my backpack and jammed my shoes on my toes (not even on my whole foot! just the front half! I was walking like a bowlegged troll trying to keep myself from losing a shoe and lingering longer and still i was a proper speed demon!) and I was out. that. door. Now, seeing it all written down, I cannot properly capture the OOKY feeling that place gave me. And even now, years later, brother and I will mention the Eye Poking Guy of 105 and give short clipped laughs before meeting wide eyed gazes and looking behind our own shoulders. but anyway that's it, that's the story, night all