#ran. ran. have shinichi and conan ever been the same room together. ran please

[lesbianpegbar]

girl….

[sukiglycerin]

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke. 

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine. 

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan." 

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence. 

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed. 

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion. 

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety. 

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack." 

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying. 

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat. 

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him. 

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended. 

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though. 

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet. 

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n." 

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (“it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench. 

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him. 

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan. 

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting. 

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer. 

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper). 

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy. 

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like. 

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard. 

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on. 

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces. 

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about. 

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen. 

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads. 

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there. 

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer. 

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga. 

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands. 

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.

[yzkhr]

Third installment of the Love Language Miniseries

It might be OOC so please bear with me

Dedicated to the one who gave me this wonderful yet painful series idea @meitanteisachi!

-

Words of Affirmation- You get a thrill from receiving compliments and unexpected praise. You like it when others say they care about you or appreciate having you in their lives. You love feeling understood and receiving recognition for a job well done.

Shinichi trusts Ran a lot. But having a recent 'misunderstanding' along with being busy with his detective work and texting an apology yet receiving a slur of misspelled sentences with only the words 'Sonoko' and the name of a specific bar being decipherable, he can't help but worry and overthink.

(The name 'Kazuha' was readable as well and it did lessen his panic, but the reassurance he felt was nothing compared to Sonoko and her constant tricks that worsened when they became adults.)

Reaching the said bar on Rans' text message, he rushes inside and immediately dislikes the smell of mixed alcohols and smoke everywhere. Face indifferent, he passes through the dancing crowd and went straight to where he deduces his girlfriend to be.

Knowing Ran, she's not someone to go wild in such a tight place, nor does she appreciate the smell of cigarettes all over the dance floor. She would be somewhere comfortable and quiet enough to converse with Sonoko and Kazuha. Shinichi can't think of a better spot than the bartenders' counter.

And he was right.

There she was, in the middle of a familiar drinking blonde on her left and a brown haired woman on her right, reclined in her stool and mouthing words to her left side. Despite her back being the only thing he can see from where he's standing, he recognized it in an instant, having been familiar from the sight since childhood (her iconic hairstyle also helped).

Walking a little closer to be heard and putting his hands into his pockets, he calls out. "Ran."

The girls, save from the gulping heiress who ignores him, turns around and express the same visage upon seeing him. Rans' expression instantly change however, as her wide eyes and agape mouth closes and curls up into a smile.

"Shinichi!"

She stands up from her seat and walks over to him in an odd unbalanced manner. On a closer inspection, Shinichi noticed how her cheeks flushed a rather more healthy red than normal.

Raising an eyebrow, he opens his mouth to scold but his prepared reprimands die on his throat as Ran hugs him instead of just standing in front of him, her slender hands wrapped around his neck slowly, her feet tiptoeing as she concluded she wasn't tall enough to reach Shinichis' height.

He instinctively backs away from the unexpected warmth and weight, flustered and confused. Ran didn't even gave him the time to recover, leaning her head into the crook of his neck and sniffing it as he felt her sigh, successfully making his mind blank.

"You smell nice." she whispers, letting out a giggle as if entertained at her out of nowhere compliment while he stands there, frozen and left with no words to respond. Even after five years of being together, her effect on him stays consistent and powerful, similar to their first meeting.

Fortunately, he was brought out of his reverie by a familiar—not in a good way— smell of rum mixed into her natural sweet odor. From that, everything clicked. Her red face, wobbly walking and unexpected behavior finally made sense to him.

"You're drunk." he deduces as he looks down at his girlfriend who avoided eye contact by looking sideways and pouting, confirming her guilty.

"Sorry Kudo-kun," he redirects his gaze at the source of the voice, finding an apologetic Tooyama Kazuha. " We're the ones that invited her here and as you can see," her eyes went to Ran briefly before going back to him and continues sheepishly, "We kinda got carried away."

He expected the answer. After all, Ran rarely drinks, much less get drunk. She'd only really go all out when there's an important celebration or a really big problem, like a certain misunderstanding that may or may have not happened between the two of them.

"It's fine." he acquits as his eyes looks at anywhere but Kazuhas' green ones, unsure of how to ask. "Umm, did Ran told you anything concerning? Like if there's a huge problem or something?"

The Osakan woman's eyes widened and suspiciously travelled to Ran as if asking for permission, who in return tightened her grip around his neck to bring him down a little. Kazuha now seems to have an answer, glancing back at him.

"Nope, Ran-chan said nothing like that at all." with the way she puts up a tight lipped smile, it was obvious she was lying. "Besides, if there is an issue like that, why don't you ask her? I'm sure she'd tell you."

He wants to disagree, being aware of Rans' nature to he very considerate that she might dismiss the topic. But Shinichi really isn't fond of the idea of pressuring his bestfriends' girlfriend, so he didn't say anything. Besides, Kazuha was right, if there was anyone to ask about what is wrong, it would be his girlfriend.

"Yeah, you're right." he laughs and attempts to change the topic, not wanting to make the atmosphere awkward. "Anyways, it's pretty late. Want me to take you guys home?"

The brunette shakes her head and looks from behind. Shinichi follows her gaze, only to find Sonoko still on the counter and talking to someone on the phone. Her voice is so loud that it can mildly be heard from where they're standing.

"No thanks, it seems Sonoko-chan is already calling Makoto-kun to pick her up."

"It seems so," he now looks back to her. "How about you?"

"No need," she pulls out her phone, showing him her private chat with Hattori. "The ahou already texted he's on his way."

"And besides," Kazuha sends him a teasing look and an amused smile. "Even if we didn't have our boyfriends picking us up, you'll still get your hands full."

As if on cue, Shinichi was reminded of his girlfriend who's still clinging on to him, her constant breathing on his ear enough to make him go red, as if he's the one intoxicated.

He silently agrees to Kazuhas' statement.

-

Ran insists on walking home instead of getting a taxi. He protested but after being presented with the same adorable pleading look she always used on him back when he was Conan;wide eyes, pouty lips, and blushing cheeks, he was really left with no choice.

Now, they tread across the empty streets of Beika with the moon illuminating the area, Shinichi makes sure that his girlfriend doesn't trip from her quivering steps, choosing to carry her on his back, her arms hanging loosely around his neck while his hand secured on her thighs, assuring of no fall. The night serves peaceful, accompanied by a comfortable silence.

Until he decided to break it.

"Hey Ran--" he starts, wanting to ask her about the 'problem' he wasn't sure they're having, but was cut off by her instead.

"Ne, Shinichi?" her voice is a bit slurred but with his proximity, he heard it just fine. She seemed to have timed it when he decided to speak, deliberately avoid the questioning from him, concluding that something is wrong. He wanted to ignore her distraction and push further, but with Rans' current condition, he gives up and lets her get away.

"Hmm?"

"Did it hurt?" he stops walking in confusion at such a sudden question, prompting him to face her as she wears an innocent smile.

"What hurt?" he asks, not getting the point. It took him a few seconds to catch on to what her 'innocent smile' and question means, and he isn't exactly happy at the conclusion he got.

"Please no," he exclaims as she looks at him expectantly, really wanting to continue. he complains. "Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?"

A glare is all it took for him to know she's not giving up. However, Shinichi isn't going to comply so easily either.

"Let me guess, when I fell from heaven?" he teases her, ahead of the supposed pick up line she's about to say.

Instead of being angry however, Rans' smile widens more than before, not looking as innocent. "No."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion he asks, "What?"

"When you fell for me."

He stares in disbelief. He had never expected such a cheesy pick up line to be even more cheesier than it already is and it honestly impresses him(in a bad way). Meanwhile, Ran looks way too proud of herself, a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Okay, you win." he states rather dejectedly and continues walking, wishing his surrender to be the end of her drunk flirting.

If he were to be completely honest, Shinichi somewhat expected Ran to do something crazy and uncharacteristic, since it isn't the first time for her to be this intoxicated. The last time, she sang random songs with the most intangible lyrics he had ever heard, her drunk singing voice comparable to his normal one. This time it's the same, only now it's sappy pick up lines instead of crappy lyrics( he isn't sure which one is worse).

"Shinichi," she starts again, and it was cue for Shinichi to pick up his pace to get home faster, and he did. But Ran is stubborn. She calls his name on repeat way too many times, that he has to stop and finally decides to listen.

"Alright, let's hear it and quickly take you home to your apartment because I'm already tired of this." he yields, defeated and weary. On the other hand, Rans' expression is the complete opposite, too cheerful and energetic like neon lights on a dark room.

"You know why you're tired?"

"Yeah because of your pick up--"

"Because you've been running through my mind all day long." she breaks into a laugh as he stops functioning, wondering how his girlfriend can be so witty and stupid at the same time whenever she drinks a lot more than usual.

He ponders if Kaito has something to do it. After all, there is no one better and worse at flirting with words than he is. Rans' are tolerable but maybe it's because he loves her so much that he does appreciate them, but they're still pretty bad.

He deadpans at her still cackling form just to express his emotions. "You know, other people will call you an idiot if they know you're doing this."

She pauses, her turn to be confused. "Just other people? What will you call me then?"

"My idiot who's doing this."

Her reaction is instantaneous. Her face blossomed a shade of crimson as she coughs, too taken aback while he tilts inwards, smirking at having to get back at her antics.

"That's not fair!" she whines, throwing daggers at him as she cough a little more.

"You started it." he yawns, the night catching on to him.

He really thought it was the end of it, but Ran always proves him wrong as she started once again. "Yeah, being good looking must be sooo tiring."

He really is impressed at how her mind can processed a mundane action and turn into a bad and cheesy pick up line. But he didn't become friends with the worst flirt in the world for nothing. Clearly not accepting defeat, he decides to play along. "Then you must be exhausted."

Her face turns into a blushing mess either from embarrassment or frustration or maybe even from both.

"Shinichi!"

And that's what they did until they got home. He truly was worried that there was something bothering Ran, but from the way she conversed and flirted with him(even though he's sure it's the alcohol talking), he was confident that if there was a problem, it isn't as bad as he expects it to be.

-

After an hour of throwing trashy jokes at each other, they finally made it to her apartment. He grabs the key he got from her earlier and opens the door, going straight to the sofa to put down his girlfriend.

Ran looks tired, eyes constantly blinking as she takes off her shoes, slower than it's supposed to be. She flops down on the couch, ready to doze off. Making sure she won't fall off, he strides into the kitchen to get some water.

Going back in the living room with a glass, he now finds her sitting instead of her laid down position a minute ago. She's dazed, eyes dead set on the table across as her brows intensely furrow as if trying to figure something out.

"Here you go," he sits down beside her, offering the water. He watches her drink it languidly, attentive to her every move. After finishing and putting it back on the table with a thud, Ran stands up, a hand on her throat.

"What's wrong?" he asks as the panic becomes visible on her visage, eyes roaming everywhere.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," as if on signal, she makes a strained sound while Shinichi rushes her inside the bathroom, certain that Ran won't appreciate walking into her living room with vomit all around it.

Upon reaching the toilet, Shinichi lets her bend over it and finally lets out everything she ate and drank that day as he soothes her back, stroking it back and forth. He also holds her hair up just make sure it doesn't get in the way.

"Are you okay?" he tilts his head in confusion as she turns around now done with her task, eyes watering slightly.

"I'm hungry." he sighs, having predicted it. He isn't the best at cooking, but letting his girl cook for herself while still being a bit visually impaired and losing her self balance every now and then sounds like the worst decision he can make in this situation.

"Fine. I'll make you something." hearing such words, Ran wipes her tears and beams at him. He leads her out of the restroom, leaving her on the couch and heading to the kitchen to cook at least a soup just to quench her hunger.

A few minutes passed and he comes back to a yawning Ran, with a hot and steamy soup laying in his hands. She offers him a drowsy smile, and he gives a knowing one in return.

"Here," he places the bowl on the table in front her and Ran takes it leisurely. She takes a chunk of food and blows at it, in the hopes of lessening the heat. Satisfied, she puts it on her mouth and makes a noise, glancing at him.

"It tastes good!" he chuckles and shakes his head in disapproval. "Thanks but, I'm pretty sure it only taste like that because you're drunk."

He leans in the wall as he watches her consume the soup with gusto, making his heart swell. When Ran finally eats half of it, he speaks out.

"Seriously, what made you drink so much like that?" despite the high chance that she won't answer, he still gives it a try.

After hearing no response, the detective sighs and looks away, deciding to let it slide and thinks that he'll just try again tomorrow.

But it looks like that he doesn't have to.

"It's Shinichi's fault." she said it so casually and quietly, but it didn't get pass his ears. Shock at the fact that she replied and at the specific retort, he looks back and stares at her.

"Eh?"

"It was Sonoko's little dare," she finishes the rest of the food without care and continues, "She told me how you're always so indifferent and said to make you blush or whatever. But, you you were so busy with the case that I didn't even had the chance and just gave up."

He was left dumbfounded. The events three days ago went back to him in a flash. All of Ran's little glances, her stuttering words, and even her hold on him before he left after taking her home finally made sense.

'That Sonoko!' he twitches his eyebrow in annoyance. He really should've seen that coming. If there was anyone this world who could think such an idea, it would be none other than their childhood friend.

He attempts to talk, but she beats him to it.

"But, now that I think about it, I really dont mind Shinichi being busy like that," she's now looking at him, a smile plastered on her blushing face, sign of still being under the influence of the alcohol. "After all, I really love Shinichi's face whenever he solves a case. Shinichi's eyes always lights up, like it's alive and burning. As if seeing a world no one else knows."

"Whenever Shinichi solves a case, he helps a lot of people. And it's amazing to know, that tons of people are alive right now—because of Shinichi." she rambles on, calling his name too many times as if she's only talking to herself, like he isn't standing right there at all to listen.

Her voice, despite being slurred holds honesty in them that didn't make the current condition of his heart any better as he's hearing her compliment him.

"I guess that just means, that I really love Shinichi." she laughs at her own words, finding such a revelation amusing.

Meanwhile, Shinichi stands there having only two things in his mind; that Ran is really drunk, and that he's just glad the dare is over. Because if it wasn't, with the way he feels his face burning right now, he was sure Ran would've absolutely won it.

[trouvelle]

The Dead Don’t Cry (II)

This is not a continuation;;; I mean maybe it is? but ok I don’t know what else to call it. All my love goes to this certain katana-wielding boy who doesn’t deserve any pain (cue my *nervous laugh*)

Fandom: Detective Conan/DCMK Pairing: Heiji/Kazuha Rating: PG-13 Genre/Tags: Tragedy, Angst, Horror, Zombie!AU Warning: Character Death Summary: Heiji smiles at her, wishing he has said I love you at least once, because that's how he feels. It's all too late now. 

•

Inside the house that they managed to break into and settle in for a few months now, there is a room with a thick glass door. Ever since the outbreak happened, this is the second and only house that they occupied as their sanctuary. It was by sheer luck that Heiji’s father knew a rich congressman who had a custom-build house for extra protection because politicians are often paranoid, that’s all. Heiji is quite familiar with that room by now—it has been functioning as a sterile room they use to keep the virus out, or the one they use to lock the virus in. This is where his parents died, with gunshots to the head, delivered through tears and gritted teeth, and the last of his father's strength, demanding for Heiji to save himself.

Heiji heard how some people are catching the virus even without getting bitten. Some people say everyone has the dormant virus in their system, just waiting for it to fully emerge. Some say it's in the food. Either way, it doesn't look like the whole thing is going to be over any time soon.

It's been long since he survived this, and maybe Heiji shouldn't survive anymore. In a way, he's already lost to the zombies. There is a certain horror that doesn't leave you when you've seen so many of your friends and family die in the worst possible way. Some aren't themselves anymore, lost behind dead misty eyes and decaying skin. Some aren't intact upon their death, devoured into pieces by those creatures. Some others died in his own hands, asking to be killed before they turn into something they never wish to end up as. Heiji still wakes up with nightmares in the middle of the night, from Otaki-han’s voice begging for Heiji to take his life, from his father’s eyes that were no longer his own and the image of his mother’s bloody flesh.

It's not really a life worth living when every day is a constant report of deaths, a continuous loss of people he once knew. Kazuha, who has always been a ray of sunshine, keeps insisting that one day, the whole thing will pass. He notices that she has been saying it less nowadays, especially following the absence of her father.

The only other people Heiji knows to have survived are Shinichi and Ran. Kazuha talks to Ran on the phone every single day. They have been updating each other and just to keep themselves company. Once, Heiji overhears them trying to maintain a normal conversation, as if pretending that their lives haven’t been turned upside down.

As of last week, it's Ran who has passed.

"Ran-chan called to say goodbye," Kazuha informed him that day, voice wavering from the tears she fails to hold back. Shinichi had already called Heiji himself at sunset the day before. She’s infected, out of nowhere, the former Detective of the East confided to him, his voice raspy like he had been screaming for hours. That was the last he’s heard from Shinichi. (Heiji still dials his number every morning religiously.)

"And then Ran-chan—” Kazuha sobbed, “She… she s-said she will do it herself. She knows Kudo-kun wouldn’t."

Heiji banged his fist on the concrete wall. Shinichi and Ran were their closest friends, the last remnants of their old lives before the virus. "She’ll be okay," he whispered as he wrapped his hands around Kazuha, pulling her into a hug. He needed assurance just as much as she did. "I'm sure she’ll be okay soon."

An image spurred into Heiji's mind. Of Kazuha, trying to put a bullet to her own head… no, there's no way he could live with that. He would do whatever is necessary to prevent that from happening. They had fallen asleep in each others' arms, and when Heiji screamed himself awake from a nightmare, merely two hours later, Kazuha was already up, crying next to him.

•

The first thing he notices is the change in his voice. He always sounds gruffy in the morning, but this time it doesn't even sound human. It's too hoarse, too scratchy, too low—it's hard even to get a decent good morning out.

Of course Kazuha notices it, too. "Do you want me to go get you some medicine?" she asks right away, eyebrows furrowed in concern. They still have plenty to live off of, and unless it's absolutely necessary, Heiji really doesn't want either of them to go out. He would rather stay in and watch the TV, although it's just a tedious rerun of old cartoons with the occasional breaking news. 

He shakes his head no. "I'll be okay," he answers, sounding the farthest from okay. Maybe he should try to go back to sleep.

"You should sleep some more," Kazuha says finally, still looking worried. She reaches to touch his cheek, stroking his face slightly, and he feels his skin burn with heat. He is way past the state of being shy and embarrassed upon any physical touch from this childhood friend of his, so it can only mean one thing. 

It dawns on him then, what might be happening. Heiji jerks slightly from the realization, half hoping that she doesn't notice. He gets on his feet urgently, shaking his head some more. Please, please, please, don't let Kazuha notice. "Uh," he mutters. He doesn't think she is aware of his panic, so at least that's a relief. "I think I'll go shower."

"Okay," she agrees, not questioning anything despite the rather confused look in her eyes. "Do you want tea? I’ll make some porridge for breakfast today."

Heiji grins, hoping it comes off as his usual one. He nods quickly before rushing to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. In all honesty, he's panicking inside, and he needs to look in the mirror right now to calm himself down. But what he sees results in quite the opposite.

It takes a lot to notice the symptoms at this stage, but Heiji has seen it way too many times. He saw it on his father, he saw it on his mother—and now he's seeing it on himself. There is a red spot in his sclera, an early sign that it’s hemorrhaging. He sees the tiniest tint of grey covering his iris, one that he knows will spread until his eyes are misty and blood red both at once. He takes off his shirt and spots dark specks of rotten skin across his back, and it's confirmed, now, Heiji mourns. He's turning.

He doesn't think it's fair—he's been careful enough with everything he does, with everything he touches and everything he eats. But then again, nothing about living in a world full of the living dead is fair. Heiji slumps down to the floor and leans on the wall, banging the back of his head repeatedly against it. He's got Kazuha to think of, he's got his own feelings for Kazuha to worry about.

Heiji has never really told her what he feels, although he's certain that she knows by now. Love doesn't help much in this kind of life, and he doesn't want to burden her with feelings on top of the whole mess that is their universe. But now that he knows his time is up, really, Heiji just wants her to know how happy she makes him. How thankful he is to have spent his whole life with her. 

Tears are trickling down his face, and he scratches his head in frustration, clawing some skin and hair off the side of his head. The violent strike is coming, too, Heiji realizes as he tries to stop himself from peeling his face off. From what he has seen, It takes around twelve hours for the transformation to take over completely, but the problem is that he doesn’t know when it first started. He knows it's selfish, but he really just wants to have more time being normal with Kazuha.

Maybe, maybe, just a few hours would be okay.

•

He prays that he has enough time with her so they can both cherish their last moments together. And right now, he prays that Shinichi is still alive and will answer his call.  When the line goes through, although he hears nothing but low breathing on the other end, he exhales the breath he doesn’t even realize he’s been holding.

“Hattori.” The other boy starts.

When Heiji hears the familiar voice that belongs to his best friend, he feels a huge sense of relief and happiness, so much so that he almost forgets about what’s happening to himself. “You’re alive.”

“So are you.” 

Not for long. Heiji lets out a pained chuckle, “I have a favor to ask you.”

•

This is as normal as it gets. Sitting on the couch, watching the same cartoon episode they’ve already watched last week and the week before, eating the food that Kazuha prepared. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he has his arm around her, taking in every last moment he gets to have. In another life, this would still be them on weekends, minus the wandering zombies outside, maybe plus one little boy or two in the near future. Or girls, Heiji doesn't really care.

The thought of Kazuha with adorable children of their own makes Heiji smile, although it's hardly the appropriate time for that. He should tell her soon. It's not fair for either of them, but at least it would be safer for her if he tells her. He should tell her soon.

Not just yet.

Heiji lifts his head and kisses Kazuha on her forehead, earning him an amused look from the girl. "What was that for?" she asks, obviously pleased.

Heiji shrugs, not wanting to say anything because God knows how bad he sounds right now, hours since then. He recalls everything Kazuha has done for him—helping him with their parents’ bodies, kissing and holding him to sleep when the nightmares get overwhelming—she’s always there by him no matter how bleak the situation they’re in. Heiji smiles at her, half wishing he has said I love you at least once, because that's how he feels. Now it's all too late, and even if he tries to say the words, the voice won't be his own. But still, thank you, he mouths, thank you for everything.

Kazuha doesn't answer. So he leans down to capture her lips with his. It burns and it stings, but the way his heart shatters hurts him the most. As the kiss deepens, he finds himself wanting to bite on her lips, but then a small voice in his head asks which part of him the urge comes from. His fear for Kazuha's life is what makes him push her away. Before she realizes what’s going on, he is already up, running away from her and locking himself behind the glass door.

"Wha—Heiji?" Kazuha has finally caught up with him and finds him inside the confinement room. Heiji watches as she searches his face and slowly understands what's happening. Her expression falters into something he has only seen once on her face before—an overwhelming mix of shock, sadness, and utter devastation. That time, Heiji got to her too little too late. She had had to put her father down, and Heiji promised himself that he would never ever let her go through it again. Look how that turned out, he bitterly laughs. He wishes he hadn't caused her such pain, but what is there for him to do?

"I'm sorry," Heiji manages to croak out in an unfamiliar voice. His pupils are probably almost fully diluted, now. Despite his hazy eyes, he can see the skin on the tips of his fingers perishing. He's already half dead, but maybe he still has a few more hours of being conscious. Before then, he has to convince and make sure Kazuha kills him—otherwise he doesn't know what he's capable of doing to her. "This sucks."

Kazuha still stares at him in a daze, her jaw hanging loosely as she steps forward to lean on the door. "How?" she asks finally with a strained voice. She sinks down to the floor, her knees banging against the tiles in a way that will surely leave bruises. She doesn’t seem to realize, or mind.

"How?" she repeats in a whisper Heiji can barely hear, because he is thumping his head again and again to the glass surface separating the two of them.

Despite the ache in his chest, Heiji grins weakly. He can feel parts of himself slipping away and it gets harder to stop his hands from jerking, to stop himself from peeling skin off of his body. His vision is stained with grey and yellow and red, and Kazuha will probably look like nothing but a lump of meat by the time he is taken over completely. 

"Kazuha?" he calls with the last bits of his consciousness. He just wants her to know that he's still there. He just wants her to know that even in his current state, she is in the only thing on his mind.

In between silent sobs, she answers, "Heiji." She is struggling to get words out. Heiji stays quiet as she weeps, palms pressed on the door. She gasps for air and tilts her head up to stop her tears. She turns to face him, questioning with an unsteady voice, "Heiji, what are we going to do?"

He quirks one eyebrow up as an answer, as if saying Ahou, you know what to do. Kazuha stares at him desperately, as if begging Don't you dare make me do it.

"You have to," Heiji croaks, again with the foreign voice that is now his. It's so hard to breathe right now, and he isn't sure if it's the aftereffect of the infection or the sight of a broken Kazuha in front of him. "Please," he adds when she doesn't answer. Would it be easier for her if he kills himself? Like Ran did? It’s no use now, all their weapons are outside of the room. Heiji can’t risk opening the glass door at this stage.

Kazuha presses her forehead on the glass door. "How long do we have?" she asks, searching his face. He wonders how bad he looks right now—he knows some of the skin on his face has already peeled off, maybe his flesh is even showing. He knows his eyes are supposed to be clouded all over now, some parts of his face probably ashy and decaying already. He doesn't want her to look at his face anymore.

"Heiji," She repeats in a much softer voice when he turns to the other side of the room with his back facing her. "Let me look at you, please."

No, he wants to yell. She still wakes up screaming with nightmares of her father. He doesn’t want to be in her worst nightmare.

"You have to kill me," Heiji begs. "Right now."

There's a button on the side of the glass door. All Kazuha has to do is press it, and in ten seconds the door will open, and she has a split second to pull the trigger before the monster inside Heiji prances forward to kill her. There is a shotgun right there behind the vase. There's also a revolver in the top drawer. It's so easy to end all of this. He really wants it to be over—what's the use of having Kazuha so close if he doesn't get to touch her? What's the use if he has no power to tell him how much he wishes things were different, how much he wishes they could be together?

"Let me have you for another hour," she pleads helplessly. He remembers his parents, her father, even Ran, and prays that Kazuha is strong enough to move on alone. Heiji frantically starts writing down letters on the floor, a message for when Kazuha loses him, his last words written with his blood.

When he's done, he nods to her. At the rate his whole body is spasming, he knows he won't be able to hold on for another hour, but he'll let her get everything she wants for now. Like he always has. He’ll let her prepare herself before having to kill him.

"This is so unfair," Kazuha sobs, “I can’t kill you too.” She leans on the door so closely like she wants to go past it and get next to him, but he is thankful that she can't. He doesn't know what he'll do if she is within touching distance. "I don't know what to do, Heiji, I really don't know what to do."

He doesn't know either. He really wishes things could be different but here he is, decaying by the minute, slowly giving way for a monster to occupy his body. Kazuha looks like she's willing himself not to cry, and Heiji wonders how much pain he's causing her this time. All he does is hurt her. She never looks away, as if it’s the only way she could hear what he is thinking. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

"Have to,”—groan—”live,” is all Heiji can bring himself into saying through gritted teeth. She will be all alone, but she will make it. If only he had the strength and mind power to, he would have added please, Kazuha, you have to survive this.

There is a sob-filled pause, until, "I will," Kazuha answers weakly, smiling a little. "I will." Heiji feels relieved at her promise. He knows she’s strong enough. 

He nods as many times as he physically can and presses his palm against hers, albeit with the thick glass separating them. He would do anything to hold her again. All he can do is grin at her and try his hardest to ignore the pain.

Maybe Heiji really doesn't have much time at all. He is starting to lose control of his body and his eyes open wide, his vision covered in a blur of reddish grey. He punches the glass, trying to break free, trying to get on the other side. The monster inside is taking over—Kazuha has to do it right now. 

"Heiji?" Kazuha sounds hesitant as she calls his name. I'm still here, Kazuha, Heiji wants to say. But it's too hard right now, he's too weak and something else inside him is taking over.

Heiji has killed more than enough of those monsters in his lifetime, some he doesn't know at all, some he knows way too well. Now Heiji learns that the hardest one to kill is the one inside your own body. "I can’t—" He croaks with all the strength he can muster. "—anymore—kill me."

Kazuha is stepping back from where she is seated near the door, with one hand covering her mouth, and even with all the haze covering his line of sight, Heiji can tell that she is crying even louder than before. I'm sorry for making you do this, he wants to tell her, I'm sorry for leaving you alone. But there's not enough of him left in this body. He feels himself taking steps backwards, getting ready to ram through the door. 

Bam. He slams his body to the thick glass that doesn't budge. Bam. He feels a searing pain in his shoulders. Bam. She is holding the shotgun in one hand. You can do it, Heiji thinks, Goodbye, Kazuha. He can't see where the blur ends and where the red starts. Bam. By now, his urge to prance on her is as strong as his will to say I love you.

He can hear a low sound of countdown—ten... nine—she has pressed the button, now. He'll be gone in mere seconds. 

Three, two, one.

Gunshots sound the same whether you're behind or in front of the gun, Heiji learns. A sharp pain hits the center of his head, burning, stinging.

All the red in his eyes diffuses into black.

•

Inside the house that they managed to break into and settle in, there is a room with a thick glass door. Kazuha has cleared the room after the body of what used to be Heiji started to smell. She has gotten so used to the stench of the dead, but she knows she has to treat him with more grace and respect. That might not be Heiji any longer, but he was fighting until the very end.

It gets lonely, living in a world where everyone else is dead.

Sometimes Kazuha wants to join Heiji and her father and her friends in the afterlife, assuming such a place exists for people who died the way they did. Sometimes Kazuha goes for days without eating, because she barely feels anything, maybe her body is broken. Sometimes Kazuha gets tired of falling to no end, and her thoughts go to the revolver in the drawer, or the shotgun behind the vase. When it happens, she enters the room with a thick glass door, sits down and stares at the floor, reading the words written in the last drops of Heiji's blood out loud.

Live, Kazuha. You said the whole thing will pass.

[stillebesat]

Fanged (1/4)

Detective Conan: Hattori Heiji, Kudo Shinichi Blurb: It wasn’t quite how Heiji had imagined their first meeting would go. But when you're setting out to find your missing rival, things hardly can go as you expect them. Especially when the supernatural gets involved. Fic Type: Supernatural Overall Fic Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Fighting, Death Talk, Murder Case Talk

He’d heard it on the news first. That the Great Detective of the East, Kudo Shinichi--

Was missing. 

Heiji frowned, ducking under a tree branch, the brim of his hat pulled forward over his eyes as he scanned the forest floor for clues. 

Kudo’s last reported sighting had been here at a five star luxury resort spa, now known for being the scene of a tri-murder case where Two Biochemists and their adult daughter were killed, just a couple of hours outside of Heiji’s Osakan home turf.

To all accounts, Kudo had solved the case with his usual dramatic flair. Discovered that the family hadn’t been killed by their bodyguard as the evidence originally pointed to, but by a fellow scientist also staying in the same place. 

Kudo had watched the murderer get taken away by the police after his confession and then….vanished.

Heiji exhaled, pausing to look back the way he’d come. From his research on the Heisei Holmes, it wouldn’t have been at all surprising if his rival had finished this case only to immediately get caught up in another.

He was a regular Shinigami really, though Heiji had had it from an acquaintance in Tokyo’s Division One that the high school detective was no such thing. He just had ‘death luck’ as the officer had called it.

Enough death luck that no one had been worried when Kudo never reappeared at the resort. Never checked out from the room he’d been staying in.

Another case. 

That had been the assumption. Kudo had just gone and found himself another case. He was fine.

Fine until people realized no one, not even his best friend, Mouri Ran, had heard from him in over a month according to the news report.

The last known person to have seen his rival was an attendant who had reported that she saw him headed down a forest path, the same path Heiji himself was now on, after the police had left with the murderer in handcuffs. 

After that?

Nothing.

It was suspicious.

And Heiji was used to suspicious with all the odd cases he himself encountered.

And if this case was anything like his---more special crime scenes...it really didn’t bode well for the police when there were no further leads to follow. No further clues to investigate. Kudo was missing and they were at a dead end.

So here he was. Starting at the source. With his bokken slung over his shoulder, Heiji had shown up at the resort and chose to wander down the same direction the Detective of the East had disappeared in, looking for any clues that the police may have missed.

Because if anyone could find Kudo, it would be him, Hattori Heiji, Detective of the West! 

But with so much time having already passed--Heiji tugged at the brim of his hat, pressing his lips together in a fine line. There was only so much evidence he expected to find. After all, it had rained multiple times since Kudo’s last sighting, so if there were any footprints or Kami forbid, blood trails...that evidence was probably long gone. 

He’d already been up and down the main path thrice before he noticed a near non-existent animal trail that branched off out of sight of the spa and chose to take it. Call it a sixth sense or even a feeling if you will, but he’d been walking the path for over an hour already and Heiji hadn’t found any broken branches or snagged threads from clothing to indicate Kudo had even come this way. 

His chances of finding Kudo alive were already slim, but as time passed and the trail became little more than a deer track, he could feel the odds stacking up against him.

Really, if he was alive, it was doubtful that his rival would still be here.

He could be anywhere in Japan, in the world really, after a month. 

If he was alive. 

Dead? Well...that was another story.

“Why’dya have ta go an be so difficult to find, Kudo?” He muttered, holding his bokken tighter. 

Now, because of his rival, Heiji was deep in the forest, out of cell range, where it looked like no human had ever ventured. 

There were no campsites in the small clearings, no trash littered about, no names carved into the trees. This part of Japan appeared to have been truly untouched by human hands. 

He didn’t like it one bit.

If it were anyone else, Heiji was sure they would have turned back to the main path long ago to try his luck elsewhere. 

He wasn’t like the others though. Not when it felt right to continue onward. Not when the cases he often solved dealt with the supernatur--The hairs on the back of his neck rose. 

Heiji slowed to a stop, rubbing the omamori Kazuha had given him, studying the forest more carefully.

Something was wrong.

He frowned, trying to pinpoint why exactly he was suddenly feeling on edg--there. 

There was no sound. 

The forest had become deathly still.

No birds chirping in the trees. No squirrels chattering from bushes. Not even a breeze was blowing to rustle the leaves. 

The entire place was dead quiet. Everything seemed..muffled. Even his footsteps sounded muted as he cautiously moved forward, his bokken lowered in the ready position as he continued on his chosen path to where the ground seemed to be sloping downward. 

It was like the forest was holding its breath.

Waiting.

Waiting for what? 

He was nearly to the bottom of the slope when he saw it.

A glimpse of something white half hidden by a tree in the hollow Heiji found himself in.

White. 

Like the shirt that his rival had been wearing under his jacket before he vanished.

“Kudo?” He called out, darting forward to investigate. 

His heart jumped into his throat as he rounded the tree to find the half curled up figure of a young man apparently asleep between the roots on the ground. A young man who looked exactly like his rival. 

“Please don’t be dead.” Heiji muttered, falling to his knees to touch a cold shoulder. It wasn’t looking good though. Kudo was missing his shoes, his pants torn and covered in mud, and the shirt--hardly could be called white with how many stains covered the fabric--oh Kami. There was a wound on Kudo’s neck with bloodstains around the collar. 

He’d known it was a high possibility that he’d find his rival dead, especially with how long it had been since Kudo had vanished, but he’d hoped for a better result. A living result. 

After all the cases, after all the encounters with murderers Kudo had had...his rival should have been okay.

But luck, even Death Luck had to run out at some point. 

And Heiji couldn’t see any signs of breathing. 

“Kudo!” He called out, pressing his fingers against the man’s throat, just above the slash in his neck, searching for a pulse, for any signs of life. “KUDO!” 

A muscle twitch under his fingers was his only warning. 

In a blur, the young man rolled, his hands coming up to shove Heiji back, sending him flying across the hollow. His back hit a young tree with a loud crack, sending it and him toppling backwards to land in a heap in the dirt.

Heiji gasped, trying to get air in his lungs as his shaky limbs struggled to push himself upright, only for said air to be knocked out of him again as Kudo landed on his chest. 

The detective snarled, vibrant red eyes freezing Heiji in place as sunlight glinted off two very white and very sharp fangs protruding from his mouth.

Vampire. 

Of all the--Heiji choked off a yell as Kudo’s hands grabbed his throat, squeezing it until he was sure his windpipe would collapse. He struggled under the iron grip, prying at the detec--no vampire’s fingers. “K-K-K-udo!” He gasped out meeting the blood red eyes as the detective lowered his head. 

The vampire stiffened at the name, his fingers spasming on Heiji’s throat. 

That was just the edge he needed. Heiji jerked the vampire’s hands up off his neck, sending Kudo off balance enough for him to use his legs to throw the detective off of him. 

Rolling sideways, Heiji grabbed his bokken, throwing it up over his face just as his rival charged him with a feral growl. He knocked the vampire’s hands away from him before slashing at his legs forcing him to retreat as Heiji pushed to his feet.

Kudo half crouched, hissing under his breath, his blood red eyes darting, searching for an opening. The vampire feinted forward, testing Heiji’s reflexes, and got a good whack on the shoulder for his efforts. 

Heiji danced backwards, mirroring Kudo’s movements as he worked to protect himself from the vampire's reaching hands and more importantly those fangs. 

Kazuha may have laughed off how many ‘odd’ cases he encountered while he was solving crimes, ones dealing with supposed supernatural entities, but they weren’t all faked like he’d led her to believe. No, Heiji wasn’t known in certain inner circles as the Best Supernatural Detective for nothing despite how much younger he was compared to the others. 

He’d faced vampires before. Ones who’d been well adjusted to the change and had handly survived their attacks. 

A newly turned vampire, while stronger, would be much easier to kil--defeat.

Heiji swallowed hard. Of all the things he’d expected in the woods...this had never crossed his mind.

A vampire.

Kudo was a vampire. 

KUDO WAS A VAMPIRE! 

And Vampires had to die. 

Even Kudo--

Heiji switched his stance as the vampire attacked again, focused as he shoved his shock to the background. He bared his teeth in response to Kudo’s shriek of pain as he caught the once-detective in a blow across the stomach. 

First he needed to focus on surviving this fight. He’d process the implications of everything later. 

Heiji darted forward going on the offense, his bokken blurring as he used it to defend himself against Kudo’s attacks but also land his own blows upon the once-detective. 

No matter what he was now, Kudo was no Kendo expert. From what Heiji had heard about the once-detective, he excelled at Soccer, and maybe a bit of Karate if he’d learned anything from his World Karate Champion best friend. 

Luckily, Kendo wasn’t like Karate. Heiji twisted, Kudo’s grasping hands barely missing him, and pulled his bokken downward to hit the vampire in the back of the knees before Kudo could turn to attack again. Moving his bokken upwards just as quickly as he’d sent it down, he clipped Kudo hard against the back of his head as he fell.

Kudo went limp like a puppet freed from its strings, hitting the ground with a thud. 

Heiji stepped onto his chest, holding him in place, bokken raised over his head, ready to bring it down for the kill. 

After all. Vampires couldn’t be allowed to live. Not even--even the Great Detective of the East. 

The once-detective looked up at him through half lidded eyes, his fingers twitching, but making no move to attack. 

Heiji froze, heart pounding in his chest as those red eyes, glazed with pain, still seemed to pierce his soul, taking him apart and putting him back together again in a split second. 

Whatever the vampire saw in Heiji brought the slightest of smiles to the corner of his lips before his body went limp, red eyes sliding shut as his head rolled to the side, exposing his neck to Heiji’s bokken. 

An easy kill. 

And yet he hesitated. 

The vampire was knocked out. 

Kudo was knocked out. 

The vampire had to die. 

He had to kill Kudo because vampires were nothing but a parasite to the country, gorging on the blood of their murdered victims, unable to be reasoned with or controlled, Willing to fight to the death. 

Yet... what had Kudo seen to cause him to just take his demise lying down? 

WHY WAS HE NOT FIGHTING?! 

Vampires didn’t just roll over. Didn’t just give up. They would fight to live until the end, no matter what barriers came up against them. If there was a chance to live just a little longer, to get more blood, to drain more victims, they would do whatever it took to survive. 

And Kudo had just let himself be knocked out! 

Why? 

WHY.

And then he felt it.

The steady rise and fall of Kudo’s chest under his foot. 

Ice shot down Heiji’s back. “No way.” He whispered.

Vampires didn’t need to breathe. They only did so to gain the scent of their next victim. Unconscious, Kudo shouldn’t be breathing at all. 

Heiji lowered his bokken to the side as he crouched, still keeping pressure firmly on the vampire’s chest, and placed two fingers against Kudo’s neck.

He swore, weapon dropping from his hand. 

Tapping weakly against his fingers….was the unmistakable beat of a pulse. A weak one for sure. But still, it was a freaking pulse! 

Kudo, despite all the physical appearances of being one of the undead...was still alive.

To Be Continued  Chapter 2

[mintchocolateleaves]

A/N: Y’all, so @jaroslavlewis made a post about a scene with mentor Shin and the detective boys and I just had to write it. This is for her, and for @purplellamanator because holy shit, did y’all hear they’re writing an avengers x DCMK crossover?

Also, yeah, this is based off marvel so like, that’s why I’m bringing this up. Please enjoy!!

Ayumi has spent hours trying to figure out what exactly has just happened.

She bites into the inside of her cheek, repositions her hairband but neither action is enough to stem the anxious energy that is building in her stomach, spreading through her veins, into every synapse.

Around her, she sits in the police precinct listening to the buzzing of the printer beside her. Footsteps click past but none for her, conversation but none of it related to her.

She messed up.

She knows that she’s messed up but they’d had a case and Ayumi had been so close – she couldn’t just give up on a case where she knows the culprit, all she’d needed was evidence. And this hadn’t just been the standard case, not the same old case that she solves with her fellow Detective Boys, but rather – a big one.

Not so easily ignored.

Ayumi lifts her hand to her chin and leans against the arm of her chair. Boredom flitters through her but that’s not her fault. She finds herself wondering, not for the first time, what Conan would have done to solve the case. He probably wouldn’t have gone making mistakes.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, presses the power button but there are zero notifications. Even Ai hasn’t sent her the usual random memes that she’s found yet, and she usually always does that.

Ayumi considers scrolling through social media, but her screen is flickering, the crack across the middle too big to simply work without consequence. Doing anything more than simple text messages is just asking for a headache.

“Ayumi-kun,” the voice is angry, she knows that much without having to see the expression. It also belongs to Detective Kudo. It still feels weird to call him as such, since he’d been Shinichi onii-san up until she’d started middle school. “Come with me.”

Gingerly, Ayumi stands. She scuffs her feet against the carpets as she walks, as if she’s a child who’s already been scolded, rather than a teenager who’s about to be. He leads her into one of the side rooms, typically used for gaining witness statements, waving a hand and urging her to sit down.

Hesitantly, she does.

“Previously on the adventures of the Detective Boys,” Kudo says, “I tell you not to go chasing after the extremely dangerous serial killer, and instead, you hack into a police radio to sneak around my back. And do the one thing I told you not to do.”

Ayumi feels herself shudder.

It had been a good plan, she knows that it had been. If things had gone according to the plan completely, then this wouldn’t be a lecture but rather, a moment of praise.

So, she’d talked Mitsuhiko into tuning into the police radio’s frequency. So what? If they didn’t want people listening in, then they’d make it harder to access. It’s not like Kudo never listened in to police radios when he’d been a teenager.

“Is everyone okay?”

“No thanks to you,” the detective says, and Ayumi feels herself stiffen.

“No thanks to me?” God, she’s getting defensive, Ayumi knows she shouldn’t be, but she is. No thanks to her? She’d saved a girl from being killed tonight. “That serial killed was out there, and I tried to tell you about it but you didn’t listen!”

Kudo arches an eyebrow up.

“None of this would have happened if you would have just listened to me!”

Detective Kudo leans forward, frowns and locks his fingers together. The way he is sat on the opposite side of the table makes this feel less like he’s scolding a pupil – he’s been their mentor forever, they’re nothing if not his students – and more like the police officer he is, scolding a civilian.

Ayumi is more than just a civilian.

“I did listen to you, Ayumi-kun,” Kudo says, and his words are cold, frosty when he speaks. “Who do you think put through the paperwork for the undercover police, huh?”

A pause, as if he’s letting it sink in for her. He doesn’t give her long enough to respond though, keeps talking before she can get the words out to explain, to apologise, to say anything.

“Do you know I was the only one who believed in you guys?” The detective continues. “Yeah, after everything that happened with my generation of teen detectives, everyone said I was crazy, mentoring a bunch of fifteen-year olds.”

Ayumi mumbles, “we’re sixteen.”

As if he’d forgotten. She knows he hasn’t – he’d bought them birthday cards; his wife had made them cake. He’s only saying as such to be pretentious, to prove a point.

“No,” Kudo lifts a finger. “This is where you shut you mouth Ayumi-chan, the adult is talking.”

Surly, Ayumi presses her lips together.

“What if that girl had died tonight, or one of my undercover police?” He holds her gaze, even as Ayumi flushes, ashamed. “What if we hadn’t gotten rid of the gun, and a civilian had been hurt? That’s a different story then, right?”

Ayumi’s heart heaves in her chest. Tendrils of terror catching root inside of her, as if she’s only just realising.

She understands, and she’s sorry, he doesn’t need to make her feel so bad about it though.

“Because then that’s on you,” Kudo continues. “And if you or the other detective boys were injured, that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”

Ayumi understands from his side, really, she does, but there’s… this is justice. This is finding a case and solving it, dealing with it all because the police can be so slow sometimes.

“Yes sir,” She says regardless, because this is Detective Kudo, and if the detective boys are going to continue, they need at least one person on their side. And mostly everyone else is always so nervous because of some case from ten years ago that no one will ever tell her about.

Kudo crosses his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, and the words sound almost flat. She means it, partially, except she doesn’t. Not at all.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, not this time.”

“I know,” she sighs, continues to bite the inside of her cheek. She tastes copper on her tongue, feels the sting of a new cut. Ayumi winces. “I understand– but I just– we wanted to be like you, and you would have–”

For a moment, it seems like she’s got him to understand, or maybe to forgive, slightly, to offer some leeway, but then, Kudo’s eyes darken. A smidgen of something that is before Ayumi’s time, an emotion that always leaves his wife, Ran-san, worried, always leaves him wanting some time alone.

“And I wanted you to be better.” Kudo whispers. An admission that makes Ayumi shudder.

For a moment she simply sits, wide-eyed, awaiting whatever verdict he comes up with.

“Okay,” Kudo continues, shaking his head. “Okay, it’s not working out. I’m going to put an end to your case privileges’.”

Her what? But – no, she’d messed up but that doesn’t mean that they should all be punished, that they shouldn’t be able to solve anything else. This is–

She already knows, but still, Ayumi breathes: “For how long?”

“Forever.” Ayumi pitches forward, but Kudo’s gaze is piercing enough to make her slink back in her chair. “Yeah, yeah that’s how these things work.”

“No, Detective Kudo, please, you don’t understand,” Ayumi pitches forward, desperation leaking into her voice, “this is all we have, please, I’m nothing without the detective boys. I’m nothing if I’m not solving cases.”

The expression he offers her is a mixture of disappointed and sad. He says, “If you’re nothing without a case, then maybe you shouldn’t be solving them.”

[iamwhelmed]

The Jisatsu Experiment: Prologue-- Himura University

Summary: Years after Conan leaves with no explanation and Haibara becomes a distant Miyano Shiho, Ayumi graduates and heads off to Himura University-- as far away from Tokyo as she can get. She finds it hard to leave Conan and Haibara behind her despite Mitsuhiko and Genta moving on, but the mystery she's about to take on is going to begin unraveling a past she'd repressed, and it's very possible she's bitten off more than she can chew. Just how deep does this case run? Shinichi may just have to step in, but can he and Shiho stomach the mess Ayumi has gotten herself into, or save her from herself?

Okay so Homesick will be updated when my boyfriend gets around to sending me the beta, but in the meanwhile, he's a story that's been kicking around in my head for, well, YEARS. It's heavily inspired by both Nicole, the Winter Wolves Dating Sim (honestly my favorite of all time, so worth the $5) and Mystic Messenger. However, I left this story open to being a one-shot in case there is no interest! So the mysterious, scary parts can be read as references to Ayumi's past with Conan and Haibara and how it's keeping her tied down. Please enjoy!

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

Things had changed over the years- not by a lot, not all at once, but little by little.

The Detective Boys never disbanded, nobody moved, nobody died, but Ran got her own place after she graduated. Kogoro's detective agency grew, and he had a few interns here and there that ran their time and carried on like clockwork. Eri had moved back in, though the two weren't sleeping in the same bed again (not that they ever said, no, Ayumi had merely made the guess because there was a warmth that wasn't quite there yet). Shinichi-niisan and Heiji-niisan were still best friends; Sonoko and Kazuha and Ran and Sera, they all hung out, had girl's nights. Haibara (Miyano? Shiho? Ai?) would join them when she wasn't working on something with the professor (who she still lived with, who was still like a father to her). Mitsuhiko found the time to balance the Detective Boys and the Science Club-- he was their president, after all, got Teitan High further than it ever had gone before in the finals despite the lacking company. Genta was still their club's strong arm, though what was once body fat was now muscle and height. He towered over most boys in their school by their first year, scared a few third-years back when. His love for food had been channeled into a love of cooking, his hobby when he wasn't solving a case or manhandling criminals. Conan had disappeared. That was that. She'd come to accept it. It still broke her heart.

Ayumi, she felt alone these days. Genta and Mitsuhiko were still there but…

Genta had a girlfriend now, small and sweet and every bit a cook as him, though her skills strayed in the area of sweet-making. Mitsuhiko would deny it until he was blue (Haibara had hurt him, hurt him so bad, and Ayumi was the only one who understood because she'd felt it too, and that pain held him back, more than he let on, and Ayumi supposed he kept it all in while she only mourned to herself) but there was a cute girl with big glasses and a sincere smile who was always looking at him. (He liked her, Ayumi could tell, but he wasn't taking that plunge and she didn't blame him).

She was the only girl left in the Detective Boys, and the only member left who had no other hobbies-- well, she dabbled in makeup as homage to a memory long past, but it was nothing she spent time on. She sorted through and selected cases, she gathered information, she put clues together as much as she could until she had Mitsuhiko's and Genta's help. The days passed, and though each hour took three to pass, she could tell the years were moving quickly, so quickly that it would almost seem right-on-time if she were to receive a letter from Conan. But she didn't. He'd left them a note and hadn't said goodbye, just that he'd be in touch but he never was. She shouldn't have been surprised, not after the fifth empty year (that's what she told herself when she started crying for no reason after a case, when she'd hide away in the bathroom for a few minutes because only Sato would see her there and know, and nobody else needed to see, nobody needed to worry, she was fine, she was fine).

Shinichi, kind as he was, tried to fill Conan's shoes, they could all tell. He was their self-proclaimed mentor, a friend and a protector (there was a fear in him and a fury she only saw when they were in danger, something she could never quite place). He taught them and molded them for a year before he seemed to back off, and she wondered if that was because he knew he couldn't replace Conan, or because he'd deducted that they all felt he couldn't. Besides, he was probably tied up with Ran-neechan. Last she'd heard, he'd moved into that apartment with her when she'd taken the leap from the agency. Haibara, she seemed to keep her distance. Sometimes Ayumi thought she wanted to reach out, but that outstretched hand would retract, and she would be cold again, and eventually it stopped killing her that she wouldn't (no it didn't, she was just used to it, expected it; Mitsuhiko wasn't there yet).

Ayumi was a social butterfly, but butterflies hardly ever stayed in one place, and she flitted from one group to another without ever truly belonging, just long enough to know names and faces. This was why she and Mitsuhiko were so alike, she'd shut down, too.

Come their third year, Ayumi was closing cases all on her own. Mitsuhiko and Genta came when she called, but she tried not to (she was scared that eventually they wouldn't come). She wondered if Shinichi knew all the trouble she was getting up to (she wondered if he cared-- why? Why did it matter if he cared?) He had to hear about it through the police, or deduce that it was her from the nameless papers drawn up hours after she'd closed her cases. She shrugged off the thought (but there were eyes in her dreams, odd ones, like a memory that she's so curious to touch but terrified to recall).

Regardless of the people and the cases and the criminals and the failures, she could put her cases on her resume, and that meant she'd get into a good university. Somewhere far away, somewhere near a beach, somewhere suburban and away from Tokyo. So she took Himura University's offer and didn't bat an eye at the distance. Her mother and father cried and fueled her packings full of microwavable food (it was enough to make the seven-year-old Genta she once knew salivate), and Mitsuhiko and Genta squeezed the daylights out of her and all three of them stood at the train and wept for an hour straight, right up until the train was making its final call and she had to go.

(Haibara and Shinichi hid a few aisles over, clutching badges they no longer wore as she cried and he pretended not to notice for her sake-- and for his.)

She got set up in the dorm room easy enough. She made her bed, hung some pictures (she debated setting the frame of the Detective Boys, all five of them, on her nightstand, and instead hid it face-down in her drawer). It took a few hours for her roommate to arrive, but she was beautiful and tan and had green eyes that sparkled when she said hello. Her name was Akiko Nishimura. They shook hands and something warm started chipping away at the cold patch where Indigo used to be.

She was scouting out her semester's classrooms and got lost when she ran into Katashi Sasaki-- and she nearly died when she looked into his eyes and saw Conan's. No glasses, just blue, familiar all the same. His hair was styled differently, more of a western cut and as yellow as the sun, but his face and his lips and his ears and his eyes… She dropped her books and he cocked an eyebrow at her and said "I was gonna ask if you needed help with those. Guess that answers my question." She'd gone red in the face, huffed and said:

"Thank you, I'm okay, though."

He tapped her head with her Math textbook and said: "Liar. Where are you headed?"

The rest was history.

She was studying on the second floor of the library, brushing up on her English and failing miserably when a boy sat down across from her. Brown eyes, auburn hair- a foreigner like Katashi, but less American, more European. He cracked a book open, glanced up at her, blinked, then turned his attention back to his textbook with a yawn. They didn't speak, though the uncomfortable air compelled every cell of her body to. She tried to concentrate on English, sound out a difficult word, but she kept stressing the R and couldn't say the L. She grimaced. "I can practically hear your brain imploding. I suggest dropping the class and studying a different language." And that was the first thing Yori Smartass Sata ever said to her. She'd glared and reminded him to be polite to strangers and returned to studying. Five minutes later, he'd proclaimed himself her tutor.

Takumi Ikeda was a frail, cowardly boy who reminded her of Mitsuhiko the first summer after Haibara and Conan had left-- a shut-in gamer who slept in the day and lived for the nightlife his roommate-less dorm-room afforded him. He was as pale as the moon itself, bright enough he nearly blinded her when she first saw him stumbling out of the nearby cafe with layers of bags under his eyes. Despite the lack of sleep, his face was rounded and baby-ish, cute with the round glasses that were falling off his nose. His large baggy sweater dipped over his shoulder as he passed by her with a murmur about "finishing Devil Souls". He'd dropped his wallet, and she'd spent the rest of the day deducing what dorm-room was his, determined to return the small bit of yen and the student ID she'd found inside. It'd taken her until the early evening, but she'd knocked and interrupted his playthrough of the newest Sunshine Valley RPG…. so it was only fair she stay and help him farm with the tricks she'd learned from the previous games.

She hadn't meant to stumble into the football locker rooms, she really hadn't, but the tan Osakan guy with a wide cocky grin and a mouth full of wit she wanted to stuff with his dirty socks- Youta Oshiro- didn't seem to have any intention of letting it go. She had the unfortunate luck of being in his Math class and in his English class and even free during the time she'd set aside in her schedule for lunch. "Caught you sneaking a peek earlier, ya just have to ask, ya know." He'd taken to clinging at her side, like he thought she had a crush on him or something, and it drove her up a wall. The other personalities she'd been used to, but a guy like him was new territory in an already-new situation, and she grew more disgruntled each day. He knew Akiko, apparently. Grew up in the same town, though they didn't speak much. He used it as an excuse to get closer to Ayumi, though. He ate lunch with her and flashed his muscles (which he certainly did have as the star football player, she'd admit), and he asked her questions about class (was actually kinda helpful when she didn't get something, almost symbiotic). She was starting to get attached to him, hardly fought against it when Katashi joined them. They were rivals? Or something. They butted heads, and she wagered it had something to do with Katashi's dad being a cop and Youta's being a shady lawyer with suspicious sources of information. She wasn't sure, but she was starting to feel at home (she could see Genta and Mitsuhiko going back and forth over the picnic table as Agasa Hakase settled them down).

She'd gotten calls from home a few times by the third week. Most were from her parents, who found the time to call despite their work schedules, but the occasional call from Genta or Mitsuhiko would trickle in. They asked how she was, if she'd taken up any cases, if she was making friends (great, not really, and more than she'd thought possible). Mitsuhiko's classes were going well, extremely so, of course, and he was confused by the attention he was getting from complete strangers (all girls, and Ayumi wondered how a boy as smart as Mitsuhiko couldn't see that the ladies were flocking to him, and wondered if maybe he was willingly ignoring it for modesty or something more painful). She'd laughed and told him to spend some time being more social; he declined initially, but she knew he'd fold. Genta was in culinary school and having the time of his life, learning new dishes, learning new tricks with knives (the thought of which made her nervous in the worst way). Neither had taken up any cases, necessarily, but the towns surrounding their schools were quiet, at least not as rambunctious as Tokyo had been. Hearing their voices was like smelling a candle that carried the scent of home, or feeling a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. It brought tears to her eyes, and she sat on the side of her bed stifling her sobs because she didn't want Mitsuhiko or Genta to hear, didn't want them to worry because she was fine.

Akiko came home to find her leaning over her knees, burying her head in her hands and whimpering with the phone on End Call. She'd sat beside her and rubbed soothing circles into her back. "It'll get easier," (spoiler: actually, as this story unfolds, it only gets harder) she murmured, and "you've got friends here too" (another spoiler: some might not actually be friends). Ayumi leaned into her shoulder, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing a smile. For the moment, she wasn't alone, maybe wasn't for the first time in a long time. "Hey," Akiko picked up her phone and playfully tossed it in the air for good measure, grinning at Ayumi's red-rimmed eyes. "Why don't I give Youta a call? He knows the best ice cream place and he won't tell me, but maybe he'll tell you if we guilt him with your big sad puppy eyes!"

"Akiko-chan! That's so mean!"

"Don't worry, don't worry! He owes me anyway! I did his essay last week and he still hasn't paid me."

A small bead of sweat dripped down Ayumi's head.

It took Youta only a few short minutes to arrive at their door, a scowling Katashi in toe for some reason. Ayumi didn't mind; she took it as a sign that she was meant to be with these people right now, and that was okay. Youta wrapped an arm over her shoulders and argued with Katashi about the statistics of crime in Japan and other things she had a hard time following, and Akiko clung to her other side and egged either end on like a referee who was biased (depending on who she thought was winning) and dirty. Ayumi stood, surrounded by the chaos feeling oddly serene. Whatever tears had been in her eyes before were gone, for the moment, maybe for longer, and she'd be thankful for the whirlwind she found herself at the center of right now.

She didn't notice the black car parked across the street, or the familiar eyes that haunted her dreams watching her from behind the cracked window.

[yzkhr]

There are times when he just wanted to stop.

Stop with the pretentions, the deceits, the lies, the trying, and just... give up.

Because frankly speaking, it was easier to just be a three foot tall little boy who solves crimes than a highschool student(who still solves crimes). It was nicer to just find people who had the same interests as him even if they were just a bunch of elementary students. It was more relaxing to just let his guard down once in a while. It was pleasant knowing he didn't have to show masculinity nor protect his pride from even the littlest of things.

Besides, it's not like Kudo Shinichi had something Edogawa Conan couldn't have as he grows older. He'll still have the same looks, the same intellect, the same experiences, and the same memories.

He can still go and defeat the Black Organization, even without his seventeen year old body. In fact, being a child was an enormous advantage. Not only for defeating the B.O, but just for being a detective in general.

As a child, suspects tend to let their guard down and show their true colors, but as a teenager, they have their guard up almost all the time. As a child, you can fit through small cracks and vents that a teenage body can never dream of. As a child, you'll be able to notice even the most unnecessary things that can be useful in a case that as a teenager would be too tedious to care.

Kudo Shinichi didn't have the worst childhood but Edogawa Conan sure is having a better one—with the exception of more dead bodies and constant chasing of the organization— than he could ever have had. As Edogawa Conan, he had more knowledge about necessary things. As Edogawa Conan, he didn't have to fail to learn, because he already did as Kudo Shinichi. As Edogawa Conan, he can gain more experiences than he ever did as Kudo Shinichi. As Edogawa Conan, he's just far better as a person compared to Kudo Shinichi.

Not only that, but he met people that became an integral part of his life. He met the detective boys, he was introduced with Miyano Shiho, he got a best friend in a form of an Osakan detective and bonus with his childhood bestfriend Tooyama Kazuha, he became associated with the police even more, specially the people from the first division, and he even got to interact with the FBI and go as far as to work with them.

If it was Kudo Shinichi they met, everything would be different. The detective boys wouldn't feel as close as they are to him as Conan, he would have never met Shiho, his friendship with Hattori wouldn't be this meaningful alongside his relationship with Kazuha, the first division would see him more as an obnoxious guy playing adult than a genius kid, and he would never even have talked with the FBI, much less cooperate with them.

Aside from that, there are also people that are already part of his life as Kudo Shinichi that have gotten a lot more closer as a false elementary student. He got to feel his parents care and love for him again, maybe even more compared back then. He got to be closer with professor Agasa, with his new inventions and test runs. Heck, he's even managed to make his relationship with Sonoko more tolerable(he hates to admit but he is fond of the Suzuki Heiress, just in a weird way).

Only one push of a button and he's done. Only one call to his parents and he can leave. Just one announcement of Kudo Shinichi's 'death', then Edogawa Conan will finally be free.

Free from the burden of lying. Free of pretention. Free to start anew. After all, he was given a second life—ironically ruining his first one—, so why not take the opportunity to start over? To make the wrong things right? To experience new and exciting stuff?

Everyday he thought of that. Everyday he'll have his phone in one hand pressed near his ear, preparing what he'd say. But at the end of each day, he wouldn't go through with it. He'll locked himself up inside the quarters of a small room and cursed audibly, frustated.

Because at the end of every day, he'll see her.

She'd always act cheerful around him, like there's nothing wrong at all. Her expression would be a mixture of bliss and light-heartedness. Her posture energetic, like she could run all day without even feeling tired once.

They'd talk about each other's day on the dinner table, discussing the most random things just to let time pass. For a moment, he'd forget about all the things he's done to her and her father. That he really was just a freeloader than a teenager capable of taking care of himself.

Ran was the last straw that made the idea of staying as Conan so desirable. If he was still Shinichi, he would never let himself be this close to her. Sitting on her lap, letting her freely touch him anywhere, holding his hand wherever they go, and even bathing together (the last part is not supposed to be a good thing but he's a seventeen year old man so deal with it).

Whether he denied it or not, this incident made them closer, both literally and figuratively. He got to see more sides he was limited to as Shinichi, even though they've practically been together more than half of their lives. He got to see things he never would have seen, understand stuff about her he would have never been able to, and fell even deeper in love, if that was even possible at his state.

More than that, Ran even told him things that Kudo Shinichi will never have access to, but Edogawa Conan can easily cross. Particularly, her feelings for him. Honestly, it caught him off guard. He was confident—no he wasn't—that Ran liked him, or was at least interested, but he never would have guessed she feels this much—almost as much as he feels for her.

Just like always, she'd become a huge point for thinking that living as Edogawa Conan wasn't so bad.

But, she was also the one reason Kudo Shinichi can't die.

As they tuck themselves to bed, there will be nights he'll check on her, needing to calm the unsettling feelings in the pit of his stomach. Luckily, when she's not asleep, she'd leave her door ajar, large enough to do what he came for.

There, his eyes would widen at the image of his childhood best friend, sitting at the edge of the bed, gazing at the only source of light inside the dimly lit room, the moon. Her side profile was the only part he could make out of, but it doesn't take a genius to know that the liquid gathered around her usual cheery eyes were tears. The upward curve of her lips during dinner was now turned upside down, quivering ever so slightly.

He always wanted to look away, knowing it was his fault she was like that. He knew that Ran misses him, but just doesn't show to them or anyone else. She's strong that way. Selflessly getting herself hurt without ever bothering someone else, what a very 'Ran' thing to do.

The longer he stared at her lonely figure, he realized more and more things. Edogawa Conan didn't—and could never— have everything that Kudo Shinichi had. As a seven year old, Ran was only an older sister figure—who he have a crush on—, but as the teenage detective, she was his childhood friend and the only girl he'd ever consider to be with.

As Conan, he can comfort her and be there for her, making her happy temporarily. As Conan, he can use physical contact as means of communication, without worrying about her noticing how bad he has it towards her. As Conan, he didn't have to hide anything from her, showing her just how much she meant and just how much he was willing to give. But, as Conan, nothing he can and would do will ever be enough.

Because Conan wasn't, isn't, and will never be Shinichi.

It was funny, that Edogawa Conan almost has it all, except the one thing that mattered the most.

Having enough of seeing her so miserable, he'd enter the room in a quiet fashion, that her mind that was so far away wouldn't notice him creeping up behind her.

To catch her attention, he would encircle his small arms around her nape, fingers interlocking in her neck, tiptoing slightly, smelling the sweet shampoo she put that night and let her flinch at his touch.

After recognition, she would wipe her tears away, setting a perfect facade she always have when conversing with others. Most nights, he'd let her, understanding the feeling of not wanting others to see your own weakness and vulnerability. But Ran wasn't him, so she didn't have to put on some silly mask to cover her true feelings because he'll accept them, no matter what.

"Conan-kun?"

Her voice were low and hoarse from not being used for the last few minutes. She tried to turn around but his grip around tightens, not so much so he wouldn't hurt her, but enough to for her to stay still.

"I'm sorry."

That was all he could say. All he could offer right now. It wasn't something that would make her feel better, but it was a start.

She would chuckle lightly, but the sadness still lingers.

"What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong, Conan-kun. Nothing wrong at all."

The way she spoke to him was gentle and coaxing, like he was the one being comforted. But instead of being consoled, he felt worse. Because he did do something wrong. Something so wrong that it may never be forgiven.

Lying to her about the organization, living at the same house as her and her father, deceiving her everytime she gets closer to the truth, and many more mistakes were done, that not even an infinite amount of apologies can fix it.

But that was love, wasn't it? Wanting that person to live, whether you can be a part of it or not.

Unable to stop himself, he went from the crook of her neck going north, and planted his lips on the crown of her head. He felt her froze at his uncharacteristic action but instead of backing out, he continued on.

"I'm sure that Shinichi-niichan will be back soon. So please," From his childlike grim voice, he dropped his voice as low as he could manage, just to utter his last words, closest to his real voice. The one she wanted—needed—to hear. "Wait for him."

'Let me replace him for a while.'

He wanted to add but went against it. Ran was already so caring and kind towards Conan��a complete stranger—, anything more would be asking for too much.

Her breath hitched, his words leaving her in a mess. He let her organized her own thoughts first, not wanting to cause her trouble when his purpose was to cajole her.

Seconds passed and he found her soft hand holding his intertwined fingers, still coiled around her. She sighed and leaned on him, but not so much so he can still support his own weight.

Even without seeing her completely, he managed to catch a glimpse of a small smile, gracing her beautiful face.

"I know he will, Conan-kun. So I'll wait, no matter how long it takes."

Everyone knew him as Edogawa Conan. Even he treats himself more as the bespectacled genius little boy than the famed highschool detective. But for Mouri Ran, his childhood friend, and always for her, he was, is, and always will be Kudo Shinichi.

[trouvelle]

Emogust 16.08 — Murphy’s Law

A/N: Everything that could go wrong, will go wrong. Except in this fic everything doesn’t take place at once or in a day, so I don’t know if this qualifies. Idek what I was thinking. If it doesn’t, whooop well- @mintchocolateleaves @sup-poki

Kaito Kid's out to get the Great Detectives of the East and West.

The thing about it was that Conan had always known that Kaito Kid's would go after him sooner or later. It’s bound to happen.

The other thing about it was that Heiji never knew Kaito Kid was going to go after him as well. He hadn’t crossed paths with the said thief that much, so he really didn’t understand why he’s on the list as well. If anything, he was supposed to go after Kid, not the other way round. 

Kaito had been wanting to get rid of Kudo Shinichi, or rather Edogawa Conan, whom he had unluckily encountered more often than he liked to think. Hattori Heiji, on the other hand, was a more like a potential threat. Heiji might not have any grudge against him at the current moment, but who’s to say that he wouldn’t? If he’s going after the Detective of the East, why not go for the Detective of the West too? Those two seemed like they always had each other’s backs. Two birds, one stone. Besides, Kaito had this bugging feeling that Heiji didn’t particularly like him, considering what happened not long ago when he was trying to steal the biggest conch pearl in the world, the Fairy’s Lip.

He briefly thought about assassinating Makoto Kyogoku along with them. The guy was huge and ripped and possibly the most life-threatening, if he’s being honest. But keeping the karate champion alive was probably more beneficial for his sanity, if he’s taking the Suzuki heiress into consideration.

So it was settled.

His plan was to quickly shoot them from the back without them knowing, however tempting it might be for him to strike a conversation and smugly tell them that he’s the winner. Apparently Lady Luck was on their side for the night, because when Kaito pressed the trigger he found out he had no bullets. The timing was just really bad, because that’s the exact moment when his victims turned around and spotted him posing in action, wearing an unreadable face while looking at his handgun in disbelief.

The second time Kaito Kid set his plan in motion, he tried to look like an appropriate villain by dragging the machete (he stole this) along the floor of the rooftop, but it ended up wedged in one of the cracks on the dilapidated tiles. Exactly how old is this museum they’re in? he sighed inwardly. He had a few minutes before the police were supposed to get to the rooftop, so he went ahead and tried to wriggle his machete out. 

“Oi, ya need a hand?” He heard one of them say. He turned to look at them; the darker skinned lad was grinning and inching forward to him, the other tantei just standing there with his hands in his pockets. So he fled.

The two detectives caught onto his plan pretty quickly and mused that Kaito Kid was not much of a threat. Because in fact, there’s always some sort of obstacle with his assassination attempts.

Kaito decided that it’s time for a change of plans. Instead of targeting the both of them when they’re together, it might be easier to work his plan when they’re alone. 

Conan did tell Heiji to be careful, because between the two of them, he knew how to take care of himself better. They both had incredibly bad lucks, attracting dead bodies wherever they go. But the latter had a knack for getting into trouble way more often than he did. If anything, Conan’s not worried about his own safety at all. He didn’t even so much as flinch when he saw Kaito Kid standing at the side of his bed at night one time, gun in hand. Haibara was genuinely scarier, he told Heiji while recounting that time in the hospital when she did the same.

The day Kaito Kid forgot to bring the detonator to the explosives in Heiji’s room, the latter laughed and motioned for former to chat with him. "Ya might as well," he said, "It's 5a.m, no one else is awake, and I have about one and a half hour before I go to Kazuha’s to wake that ahou up."

Kaito did, and he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his hands on his white pants. "Sure. Besides, I’m totally skipping school today. Be prepared though, next time, you're really going down."

Heiji barked a laugh. “Ya want some tea? My parents drink tea every morning.” He left his room and came back with two cups, offering one to the other boy. 

The thief shrugged. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it over from Heiji’s hand. “Is this poisoned?”

“Isn’t that what you’re out to do?” Heiji’s lips were back in his usual grin.

For someone he very nearly killed (and nearly kissed, but that was one time. ONE TIME, Kaito screamed at himself), Heiji sure was acting very casually as if nothing of that sort ever happened between them. Which spurred a thought into his mind.

"How are things between you and Kazuha-chan?”

Heiji’s cheeks exploded into a blush but he narrowed his eyes at the all-white-clad boy. “Why do you care? And who are you to call her Kazuha-chan?”

Kaito Kid calmly slurped his tea. “Please, I’m a professional. I make it a point to know everything about who I was or will disguise as, and I have to be updated about my victims. Also about Kazuha-chan, I even know her bra size, which I bet you don’t even have access to.”

“YA LITTLE—”

“How many times have you tried to confess?” he interrupted and casually raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Heiji groaned somberly. “There’s always something in the goddamn way. Crazy old lawyer lady, zombies, Japan Self-Defense Forces, SWAT team—I wouldn’t even be surprised if the Prime Minister shows up next.”

The other boy was amused and mostly surprised at how similar their situations were. However, he knew that this detective, as impulsive and reckless as he was, will keep trying to make his grand romantic confession no matter how many times he had failed and would probably continue to fail. He cleared his throat. “You know, I’m kind of in the same position right now.”

“Yeah,” Heiji nodded, “I noticed. Kudo and I both did. You’re good at stealing and escaping but not killing. In fact, you’re pretty lame.”

“Speaking of whom, I heard Kudo Shinichi confessed to Ran, who is now his girlfriend, in London and they kind of already had their first kiss. Unless you up your game, Hattori, you’re gonna die a sad virgin without ever confessing to Kazuha-chan.” 

Heiji gave him a glare and growled, “Shut up.”

“Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than going around stealing gems and trying to kill good people like us? Don’t you like, have a girlfriend or something?” asked Heiji incredulously. 

Kaito thought about it for a moment, cherishing the image of Aoko that popped into his mind. He should probably send her a text later to tell her that he’s getting to school late today, if he could get there at all. He knew for sure that it’s impossible for him to get to school all the way from Osaka before the morning bell rings. "She’s just a childhood friend," he said.

“Uhuh,” Heiji mocked in a singsongy tone, “That’s what we all said.”

Φ

The bell rang just a few minutes ago. Conan was on his way out of his school building when he saw a large shadow next to him and looked up just in time to see a piano fall and crash into the ground next to him.

"Tantei-san?" someone from above called, and Conan didn’t even need to look to see who was responsible for the death of their school’s piano. Hattori had told him about Kaito Kid’s nice little visit to his bedroom. To think that he would go all the way to Osaka before the sun was even up, Kid was really determined to do this, Conan thought. 

He used his hand to protect his eyes from the sunlight as he peered up into the fourth story window with half-moon eyes.

“And… you’re still alive.” Kaito Kid murmured. 

Conan set his backpack down on the grass and brushed some wooden chips off of his pants.

Kaito Kid sighed. "Oh, well. I should probably let you go home. Actually I had a back-up plan this time. If the piano missed you, I would go ahead and shoot you with my rifle. I left it at home though.”

"That's comforting to know," Conan called back. "Well, Hattori is coming to visit this afternoon."

There's a slight pause—Kaito Kid’s head and hat disappeared into the window and Conan waited patiently until a boy (who looked a lot like himself, Conan noted) walked out of the building. He's wearing a midnight blue gakuran, and Conan realized that Kaito Kid was either a high school student, or wanted to look like one. 

“Can’t walk around in my costume. But you sure this is a good idea?” Kaito asked as he stopped in front of the grade schooler.

"Probably not. But then again, neither is stealing, killing people, and destroying a perfectly good piano. Besides, Hattori said you’re not that bad of a person." 

"A perfectly good piano? It was out of tune.” came Kaito’s reply to defend himself.

Conan did not want to disclose the fact that many people might have accused him of being tone deaf.

Φ

The next time Kaito Kid tried was a week later when Conan was visiting Osaka. Both he and Heiji were taking the elevator to get to the seventh floor of the Osakan Police Headquarters building when the elevator jerked to a stop.

The elevator shook and the shockwave threw them to the ground, leaving them bewildered, except then the hatch at the top of the elevator opened, and someone in a white attire and familiar white cap jumped down. 

Kaito Kid stood up and cracked his neck before turning around to face two  detectives (looking relieved) sprawled on the floor of the elevator. He groaned. “Why do you guys just refuse to die, every single time. I cut off the cable wire, so the elevator fell and crashed at the bottom. I thought you were going down for sure."

"We were on the first floor."

Kaito Kid shrugged. "Okay. There's always next time."

"Guess so," Heiji agreed. A couple of seconds passed before Conan deadpanned, "We're stuck here, aren't we?"

"Yeah." Kaito Kid grinned. "The electricity is cut off, so you'll have to wait until they realize the elevators aren't working. See you next time, lads!"

“Oi, Kid.” Heiji called after him, just as his hands reached the top part of the elevator to leave. “Are you in a rush to go somewhere?”

Φ

Later that night in Heiji’s bedroom, while both of them were trying to sleep, they were rudely disturbed by a loud buzzing noise. They sat up to see Kaito Kid in the corner of the room, trying to get a weird-looking machine (presumably to assassinate us, Conan sighed) to work.

“Do you even know what time it is?” Heiji seethed.

"What I know is that now is the perfect time, but this damn thing..." mumbled Kid as he tried to get it to function properly, but it made several low groans and stopped working altogether.

Conan wondered whether it’s okay to laugh, and he snickered. “Hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Another day it is.” 

"I think we're getting too casual about this." Conan pointed out.

Heiji yawned and stretched, then switched the lights on. “All right who’s up for a sleepover?” P.S. I love these boys to death and I just want them to have normal teenage boy conversations and do teenage boy shit

[mintchocolateleaves]

Hmmm...17!

I chose to go with HeiShin, seeing as I haven’t uploaded any before, and I know you feel like there’s an absence of it. I hope this makes you suffer!

17. ‘You mean so much to me. Please, let me help.’

Thefirst thing Heiji realises when he sets foot inside Shinichi’shospital room, is that he’s not there.

Ranis. She’s leaning forward from the chair she’s been sat in, chewingher bottom lip, fingers wiping tears from her cheeks. Her eyes arered, but she offers Heiji a smile as soon as she sees him. It makeshim suspect the worst, makes him think that maybe…

Heforces his way further into his room, makes his way over to the chartthat lays abandoned at the end of the bed. Blankets have been left inan untidy heap by the edge of the bed – not kicked off, like heimagines Kudo would do when getting out of bed, leaving Heiji todeduce that he’s been moved. Not long enough ago for nurses to comeand make the bed, but still soon enough that Ran hasn’t made aneffort to leave yet.

Hishands hover over the medical chart – he doesn’t want to open it.Doesn’t want to read about the consequences to the attack Shinichihad suffered shortly after returning to his own body. Doesn’t want tolearn about what state the detective’s body had been left in afterall the building had collapsed over him.

Heijiknows he should have been here sooner. He’d been away on a schooltrip, hadn’t thought to respond to the phone calls from an unknownnumber – he hadn’t known that Ran had been using a friend’s phonein order to contact him…

“He’salive.” Ran says, and like that, Heiji lifts his hand away from thechart, turning to face her instead. “He wanted to go outside for awhile.”

Heijitilts his head. With all of the time they’ve spent apart, he’d haveexpected Ran to stay by Shinichi’s side – he’s no sure though,which of the two has decided to prolong the separation, doesn’t knowwho needs the space.

“Youdidn’t go with ‘im?” Heiji asks. He wrings his hands together,trying to calm his own thoughts down. Shinichi isn’t in the intensivecare unit, meaning his injuries aren’t fatal – maybe they had beenonce, but he’d pulled through – and since he’s allowed outside, hemust be recovering well. Shinichi is alive, and he is fine.

“Idecided to stay back,” Ran says, lifting her phone up, “I stillneed to phone a lot of people to say he’s going to be okay.”

Heijitakes a moment to decipher her words. Going to be okay, isn’tthe same as, okay. It suggests that something still isn’tright – does this mean that Heiji’s going to have to visit thehospital for a lot longer then? He’s not sure.

Allhe knows fully is that Ran’s stayed behind because she needs sometime to mourn. Heiji isn’t sure whether it’s because of Shinichi’sbeing injured, or whether he’s finally told her the truth behindConan, but she’s stayed behind to deal with her own emotions.

She’shad to be supportive then.

“He’sin th’ courtyard, yeah?” Heiji asks, and waits for the respondingnod. He doesn’t stay long, pats Ran on the shoulder in an attempt tocomfort her, and leaves to find Shinichi when she urges him to go toShinichi.

Heijifeels almost guilty to leave Ran behind. He knows that Kazuha willlecture him later for not asking about what’s wrong, for not tryingto comfort her – but well… Kazuha has always been closer to Ran,will always be comfort her first, before Shinichi.

Anabsence of signs pointing to the courtyard almost leaves him lost.Eventually though, Heiji finds his way there, stopping once to ask anurse for directions, but otherwise ignoring the rest of the world,focusing only on one thing.

(Hisfather says he’s good at things like that, says he has a one-trackmind. Heiji isn’t sure whether it’s as bad as he states it is.)

Bythe time he finally steps out into the courtyard, his mind has goneblank. He sees Kudo, sat by the grass, glancing down at the flowersthat are growing. He doesn’t move as Heiji approaches him, simplyleans back on his arms, legs out in front of him.

“Kudo,”Heiji says, as he reaches him. He’d broken out into a run as soon ashe’d seen him, amazed to see him generally unhurt. He almost trips ashe stops in front of him, joining him on the floor. Gaze flickeringup and down Shinichi’s body, he surveys the other detective’sinjuries – other than the bandages around his chest, continuingdown his lower back, he looks unharmed.

“Hattori.”The response is flat. Not the sarcastic, irritation that he’d usedwhenever they’d seen one another back when he’d still been stuck atConan. His voice is devoid of all emotion. “You came.”

“O’course I did.” Heiji says, and he’s not sure whether it meansShinichi thought he wouldn’t, or whether he was hoping he wouldn’t,but there’s no satisfaction in the responding ‘thank you’. Maybe he’dbeen wrong in his deduction, he thinks, maybe Shinichi had been theone who’d asked Ran to stay behind.

“Thecase is finally over now,” Shinichi says, and he turns to Heiji,offering him the ghost of a smile. It’s haunting, but something aboutit is fitting – Shinichi’s been a ghost in Tokyo for almost a yearnow, his expressions are starting to fit that. “I finally get to gohome.”

Heijinods, “you won.”

Hegets a small laugh in response. It’s hollow, empty. “No I didn’t. Ijust solved a case.”

Itsounds like winning to Heiji. But maybe the damages far outweigh thesuccesses. Maybe leaving behind his life for a year, isn’t worth thesuccess of taking down the largest crime organisation Japan’s everseen. Heiji feels almost stupid for not thinking of it as a loss, fornot thinking about the long-term effects of Conan…

“Atleast it’s finally over.” Heiji says.

“Finally.”Shinichi says. He hesitates, pushes himself up with his hands andpoints over at a football that’s been abandoned by a bush. He says,“Hattori, will you get me that?”

Heijidoes. He brings it back, passes it over to Shinichi, who throws it upin the air, catching it again. He never throws it high, not likeHeiji would expect him to, instead keeping each throw controlled.

“Youknow,” Shinichi says, “being Conan made me remember what I lovedabout football. Or rather, playing with the Detective boys did.”

Hethrows the ball into the air again, higher this time. The windcarries it forward, and Shinichi lets it roll away when it bouncesback onto grass, his gaze following it.

“Iwas going to join the football club again,” he says, “being Conanmade me miss playing with a team.”

Heijisays, “it’s not tha’ far in the school year, you can still join.”

“No,”Shinichi sighs, “I can’t.”

Thereis a moment where all that Heiji can hear is his pulse, where allthat he can feel is confusion tearing apart his subconscious. Butthen it registers. Then, his gaze flickers over to the wheelchairthat’s been left beside one of the many benches in the courtyard. Heglances over at the football, reminds himself it’s for kicking, notthrowing. Recalls how Ran had needed time on her own to let heremotions overwhelm her, how she’d said he’d be okay.

“Youcan’t walk.”

Hedoesn’t receive a confirmation, but he can read it in the wayShinichi’s shoulders tense. Can see it in the way he turns his headaway, as if embarrassed – as if this is something to be ashamedabout. Heiji wants to shake him and say that surviving a buildingcollapse is something to be proud of, but he doesn’t.

“Whenthe building went down, I fell forward…” Shinichi says, “so anydebris that fell on me, hit my back.”

Heijicloses his eyes, takes a moment to process what he’s hearing.

“Thedoctors said that the trauma hit the lower end of my thoracic spine.there’s a chance I could walk again, if I join the rehabilitationprogramme… but I won’t be able to play football again.”

Heijilets out a deep breath, steels himself, and reopens his eyes. Thereis raw emotion on Shinichi’s face, misery. He’s gone through toomuch, Heiji thinks, to just give up now. “You will.”

“Iwon-”

“Youwill.” Heiji says, “even if it’s just against me, you will. Haveya accepted th’ programme yet?”

Shinichishakes his head, “I needed time to sort my head out, I needed tocome outside and figure everything out.”

“Let’sgo an’ accept it then.” Heiji stands, pushes the wheelchair fromthe bench, bites down on his tongue to keep his own emotions incheck. Then, he holds his hand out to Shinichi, waits for him to takeit.

“Youdon’t need to…” He looks almost guilty, as if he feelsundeserving of any help.

“Youmean too much to me, fer me to not help ya,” Heiji says, liftingShinichi’s arm over his shoulder, and pulling him up. “So please,let me help.”