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Relative Truth
by Becky Tailweaver
File 7: Countdown to Confrontation
Thursday, Shinichi would later reflect, was one of the longest, most miserable days of his entire life. It surpassed even Tuesday's indeterminate wait for sheer eternity of hours spent bored in school, spent hiding at Agasa's--spent wondering if Ran had really found him out and was either letting it go or thinking up something terribly dire to do to him. She had to be mad--she wouldn't be Ran if she didn't get mad.
All day, his thoughts swung back and forth between Ran and Kaito like a crazy comet in some erratic bipolar orbit. Ran might know; she had to know, the look in her eyes had been so direct--and what could he do? Lie again, get someone to impersonate him, use the phone trick again? And Kaito Kuroba would be coming on Friday, and he'd have to make a decision; he could finally turn in Kaitou Kid and put him away for good--and destroy the life of a boy not unlike himself, who was caught up in events surrounding an evil organization...
One quandary dealt with his past--the other, his future. He could give up his past--deny his connection to Kaito Kuroba and end the legacy of the phantom thief forever. He could give up his future--tell Ran the truth, and lose her forever to the Black Organization the moment he was discovered...
He was in it deep this time.
He had rushed through breakfast and taken off for school before Ran was even finished grabbing her bag and straightening her uniform for the day. With Conan dashing ahead to meet and walk with Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta, Ran walked alone until they met up with Ai. Then those two watched Conan silently from behind as he avoided Ran's gaze and hustled along with his three friends.
Conan found it impossible to pay any attention in school, and was chided several times by the teacher when he failed to respond to directed queries. During recess, the Young Detectives nagged at him for being such a wet blanket, but were soon rebuffed and gave him his space when he remained sullen and unresponsive. Ai merely continued to watch him in her usual quiet way, her face unreadable and impassive.
After school, Conan followed Ai to Professor Agasa's house instead of going directly home, and asked the good Professor to call the Mouri residence with an excuse. He stayed there most of the afternoon, keeping out of Ai and Agasa's way, doing his "kiddy homework" and glad he could at last drop off the incriminating equipment he'd been hiding in his bag all day.
He did not look forward to going home this evening. No sir, he wasn't relishing the idea; he'd be walking into a minefield--Ran was there, she would definitely ask questions if he gave her even the slightest reason to, she would want to know the truth...
Shinichi wasn't sure just what he was going to tell her.
He was really in it deep this time.
Like Shinichi, Ran spent most of her day in thought. Her constant wonderings kept leading her back to the same frightening conclusion--a conclusion she'd come to many times before, but she had always been proven wrong.
Right? Telephone calls, mutual sightings, and promises counted as proof...didn't they?
If what she dared to think were true--if Conan was really Shinichi, if he'd really been lying to her all this time--then where did that leave them? What was she supposed to think? What was she supposed to do?
Shinichi was the one who always talked about the truth; if he had indeed been hiding from her like that for all this time, he must have a damn good reason for doing so. And if that were the case...did she really have the right to intrude? Should she just keep her mouth shut and go back to wondering?
No, I can't, not when it's Shinichi this is happening to...!
Conan, Shinichi, whoever he was--he had to know she suspected something; the look on his face last night when she'd turned to fix her gaze on him... And if he was Shinichi, there was no way he could fail to see her knowledge--he always seemed to know everything anyway, so how could he miss it?
And if he knew she knew...why hadn't he said something? He'd been avoiding her all day...even for Conan--if he was Conan--this could be construed as guilty behavior. Shinichi was always such a hermit whenever he was upset about something...
She was just as distracted in class as Conan was--and after school, even the sometimes-unobservant Sonoko caught on to her melancholy and tried to talk her into a cheer-up shopping trip. Ran declined politely, stating that she had things to take care of, and headed in the general direction of home. As her thoughts roiled inside her head, tumbling over and over in a random cacophony of wondering and worrying and hurting and doubting, her feet led her not on her usual route home but the old one--the one that led past Shinichi's house.
Automatically, she stopped at the gate, just gazing blankly at the house. It stood lit by late afternoon sun, empty and alone there on the Kudo property. Memories flooded her--Shinichi saying goodbye to her after a long day of school, heading up the walk; greeting her with a cheerful smile the next morning for another day of study...the times they'd met somewhere on the long stretches of sidewalk between their houses and just hung out...the times she'd spent with him, so much of it beginning and ending at this place...
She had to reach up and wipe away the beginnings of tears. All of that's changed now, hasn't it? Whether or not Shinichi's gone...whether or not he's hiding inside Conan...those times have passed, haven't they? We can't ever go back...
Near-mechanical, she opened the gate and went in, heading up the walk and into Shinichi's lonely house. The lights were still on inside, as they had been last night--and those locations still remained a ransacked mess. Shinichi hadn't been home since last night--and she'd hoped...she might at least have seen a sign...
Well, if he was unable to come and clean up his hurry-induced untidiness, the least she could do was help him out, as a friend. If his parents came back and found this mess, the poor fellow would never get off the hook.
Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, Ran forced herself to smile, to tear her thoughts away from depressive subjects. Leaving her shoes at the door and her bag on the stairs, she proceeded to clean.
There were few people who could keep house like Ran Mouri--Lord knew she put up with her sloppy father and a sometimes-forgetful little boy. She put on an apron she borrowed from Mrs. Kudo's kitchen, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work picking up the mess Shinichi had created yesterday.
What a crazy disarray he'd left behind! He'd torn through tons of his parents' personal belongings, looking for something probably related to his father's notes on criminal files. Ran started in the upstairs closet, carefully packing things back into their boxes, guessing as to what went where by the labels on the box sides. It was slow going, and when she got to the master bedroom she tried not to look too hard at the things she was having to put away. She barely knew where to put some items, but somehow she managed.
When she put her mind to it, Ran Mouri could accomplish anything.
The mess in the study was just a bit confusing; she could see why he would go through his father's desk for information...but the family photo albums? He'd left them in stacks on the floor, some lying carelessly open.
She wanted to put the albums back on the shelf in order, since the Kudos were just that sort of organized people. And to do that, she had to look at the photos inside and make a guess as to when they took place--and Shinichi's age was the best indicator. And, admittedly, she took a little longer looking through the albums than if she were merely cleaning them up.
Ran smiled faintly as she paged through each album just a little less briefly than necessary. Shinichi's baby pictures were so cute, but there were so few of them. There were plenty of him as a darling toddler, two or three years old, with big blue eyes and an adorably angelic grin--a grin of eager innocence he still displayed at times, even at seventeen. That childishness was part of what made it believable that he was Conan, since Shinichi Kudo could still shine with all the enthusiasm and sweetness of a little boy where his favorite subjects were concerned. Only when dealing with murders and criminals did he slip into the cool, serious mask of a seasoned detective, composed, stern, and almost imposing with his all-seeing gaze and keen mind.
When she got to the pictures of Shinichi as a grade-schooler, she knew what she'd find--Conan without his glasses, smiling wide and genuine, romping about and never sitting still. She found herself in some of these pictures as well; there was the trip to the beach when they were about six, and the Kudos had invited her parents along. There was the amusement park, the science fair, the trip to the snow lodge in Hokkaido; she was seven and her parents had just recently split up, so Shinichi had talked his parents into going all sorts of places and taking her along--even then he'd been so concerned about her. She'd even gone to America with them for the very first time when she was nine--a short trip to what was then the Kudos' vacation house in Hawaii.
She smiled as she looked at a few of those shots. There was a cute one of herself, in a flowered sun-dress, smiling happily with a giant Hawaiian bloom that Shinichi had put in her long dark hair--with him standing beside her, blushing all over because he'd been caught in the act by his mother and made to stay for the picture.
She should have seen even then how much he liked her, she thought to herself. Looking back now, with mature eyes, she could recognize the signs. Shinichi was great at figuring out other people, but never so good at looking at himself; he'd had a crush on her forever and probably never realized it until very recently. She'd missed her chances because she'd been so busy trying to hide her own growing feelings, afraid that he'd tease her like he always did...
But he'd done so much for her. Despite the fact that he was so intelligent and articulate, Shinichi was never good at speaking his own feelings--he was much more demonstrative than vocal when he wanted to tell her how much he cared about her. He would use his words to tease and poke--and then hold her hand and lead her to a certain place at a certain time, just to stand amidst the fountains and see the rainbows arch in the sunlit spray all around them...
Actions speak louder than words, she mused silently, remembering. Especially with someone like him. Especially now, with...all this...
Setting another album on the shelf, she shook herself out of her reverie with a sigh. The next one, she guessed, Shinichi was maybe ten or eleven--and she was there as well; it seemed as they grew older their time spent together increased. He was still shorter than her back then--shorter than everybody back then--and just getting old enough to start resenting his "vertically challenged" status. He knew enough to be considered a geek--straight A's in school, breezing every class with a brain full of incredible and wide-ranging knowledge--but was outgoing and skilled enough to be almost one of the "cool kids."
Back then, they'd been well-established in their various activities and clubs and were starting to get really good at what they were doing. She'd always enjoyed theatre and took part in the elementary drama club, and she and Shinichi both had been in the same karate class for several years. He'd been in soccer and was astonishing everyone with his talent after only a couple years; he became the Teitan Elementary Soccer League's little secret weapon--who'd expect the team shrimp to have a kick like that?
He'd also surpassed her in karate for a while--for only a while, before his interest turned to soccer completely and karate practice became merely perfunctory, something his parents insisted on. He'd quit the karate class three years ago, when his parents moved out full-time. He loved soccer almost as much as he loved Sherlock Holmes, and he'd only quit that last year once he'd started thriving on detective work. At that point, hoping to finally outdo him at something, she'd thrown herself into her karate practice and become quite the expert. He wouldn't let her compare skills with him since he quit--no matter how she tried now and then to egg him into fighting back--but she knew there had to be something left of his former ability. He'd dodged her occasional attacks with remarkable aplomb, and the only times she managed to land a hit was when he wasn't paying attention...like, say, the skirt incident shortly before he'd disappeared.
Speak of the devil--there were the pictures of their first big karate meet, when she and Shinichi both had advanced enough to compete at the higher levels in their class. The two of them, with his parents and her dad, had all piled into a van to carpool to the location, since her dad didn't have a car. She still had the trophy from that event--it had been about six years ago, but she still remembered the sweaty triumph on both their faces as they came out of their respective divisions with high ranks and high spirits. A memory surfaced: Shinichi had tanked water like a thirsty camel after the awards ceremony, despite his father's warnings--and on the drive home he'd ended up needing to use the bathroom very badly while they were on the freeway and there wasn't a rest stop in sight for kilometers. Poor Shinichi had been quite desperate by the time his dad found an off-ramp and a gas station.
Holding back a giggle, she paged ahead through the still-life memories. Looking at some of these pictures of eleven-year-old Shinichi, she absently tried to imagine him with a pair of glasses on--not hard, given a certain little boy as subject material. Conan will look like this in a few years, she thought to herself, almost sadly. If it's true...in a few years, he'll start becoming Shinichi again...won't he...?
She shook her head again, vowing once more not to become melancholy while looking over happy memories--it was bad for the soul.
Another album displayed pictures of another of their trips to Hawaii with his parents. They'd been about...thirteen, if she remembered this particular vacation correctly. The year she'd been brave enough to learn a little surfing, and there'd been that Luau thing they'd gone to the night before they were to leave. She'd found herself adoring the Hawaiian-style teriyaki chicken almost more than was good for her girlish figure. Shinichi teased her that she was going to get as round as the pigs kept on the island--and then, gentlemanly, fetched her another serving of chicken.
She turned the page--and blushed, seeing a picture she hadn't known existed. In a strangely beautiful time-forward mimicry of another day on the Hawaiian beach, Shinichi had picked another of those giant, gorgeous flowers that grew there, once again putting it into her hair to match the colorful sun-dress she wore. It was late morning on the day they were going to leave, and the picture was taken from some distance with what was probably a zoom lens, since in her memory there'd been no one around. It had to have been Mrs. Kudo--the woman was slightly crazy when turned loose with a camera.
Only this time, it wasn't the aftermath of the scene; Shinichi was really caught in the act this time, just finished setting the flower in her hair, his fingers just trailing through a lock of it as his eyes met hers, and she was looking at him with a faint blush...
Her blush now was a thousand times stronger than that had been--good Lord, she didn't know his mother had this picture! She had to wonder if Shinichi had ever seen this...and if he did, what he thought of it. They had still been fairly young then...but Ran still had that big flower, crushed and dried carefully and kept in a hidden, secret place.
She quickly turned the pages onward, trying to cool the heat in her cheeks with newer, less embarrassing memories. The things captured in the photos were becoming more and more vivid in her mind, much more recent and well-remembered. Time flew rapidly by in the last couple of albums that she flipped through, Shinichi-the-boy quickly becoming the one she knew now, and longed for.
He'd been midway between fourteen and fifteen when he finally left his "scrawny little shrimp" days behind--much to his brief joy. It had all seemed so abrupt; Shinichi suddenly shot up in height as his voice cracked deeper, and the change had been so swift even for him that he spent a few months gawky and awkward and feeling terribly self-conscious about it; he tripped over everything, knocked things over, and bumped his head on low-hung objects that he'd previously been able to trot right under. His "new" voice would cut out at random times, making his speech jump wildly up and down octaves and often come out nowhere near the pitch he intended; when he called her on the phone and said "Hi! It's me!" she almost didn't recognize who he was.
For him, such clumsiness and inelegance was awfully embarassing, and being unable to express himself in an even tone was frustrating. His brief thrill at his new height turned to discomfiture, and he spent that time of transition in unfamiliar insecurity, quiet and rather timid in a a way he'd never been before; she'd found it quite hilarious at the time--and poked fun at him for it. But he did grow into himself fairly quickly, surprising her further at his transformation. In one short year he was several inches taller than her and beginning to put on muscle, his features sharpening and his voice settling into its adult timbre. Her little best friend--the familiar short, skinny boy she'd always known, always sort of pushed around, always hung out with; the kid she'd teased, laughed, fought, played, and cried with nearly all her life--had suddenly morphed into a talented, handsome, intelligent young man.
And she was quite aware; he was suddenly tall and strong and confident and no longer a pushover and so assertive... His gawky days finally over, he carried himself with renewed assurance and poise, secure in his own abilities and ready to take on the world all over again. It was at that point she'd begun to really realize her own feelings for him, really recognize them as the "girl-likes-boy" kind of like--although despite his physical changes and his new confidence, he still remained the same know-it-all, friendly, teasing Shinichi she knew, and she wasn't sure then if he felt the same way. It was then she'd begun to notice the other girls talking about how good-looking Shinichi had become since they'd gone into high school; at that point she'd started feeling almost resentful of them and worried that he might like one of them more than he liked her... She kept her mouth shut, always so proud; she could recognize her own jealousy, even if she would never--even under threat of death--admit it to him.
The last album was set on the shelf as she sighed sadly. Someone had once chided her about missed opportunities, and how they might never come again. And now she chided herself for hesitating so much--she'd let her dream slip right through her fingers. He might never come again either...
Now that she wanted to be with him--really be with him, even tell him everything of what she felt--he was never around. Whatever had happened with the case or cases he was solving, wherever he'd gone...she just wished she could have the chance--one more chance to make it all right...to go back to the night at Tropical Land, grab his hand and tell him not to take off into the night, that she wanted him beside her... A wild idea flew into her head in that moment; maybe she should've just kissed him, and that would definitely have taken his mind off of whatever he'd wanted to go and do that night...
Maybe they'd be together now, if only...
But...if Shinichi was Conan...then...they were together. Sort of...but if it was true, it was a very lonely sort of together; he'd let her believe he had left her behind all for a case... And the question still remained: Was he or was he not Conan? Even after her long, happy reminiscing in the albums, her doubts and wonderings came back full force.
Even as terrifying as it seemed, some part of her almost wished it were true, so that at least she could know that he had never really left her behind. The pictures of Shinichi at age seven and the memory of Conan, whom she saw every day--even though she'd seen it before...God, they matched so perfectly. Cousins couldn't look that much alike...could they?
Sighing sadly yet again, she stood up and looked around, seeing that the room was sufficiently cleaned and would meet the Kudos' approval. Maybe she'd get lucky and Shinichi would call to thank her for cleaning his house--and that would mean he'd come there. She pulled off the apron she'd borrowed, heading out to put it back in the kitchen.
She was very startled to note the time on the kitchen clock, realizing with a jolt that she'd been occupied in the albums for several hours. By now, it was getting dark outside and Conan and her father would be wondering about their dinner.
"Oh no! I completely spaced out!" she cried, gasping and whirling out of the kitchen. She turned off a few lights as she went, hurriedly grabbing her bag and slipping on her shoes. She paused only once on her way out the door, turning to look back at the entry hall as if wishing that Shinichi were there to see her off, waving with his usual smile...
Forcing herself to move, she closed the door behind her and hurried off down the walk, heading home.
Conan stiffened the moment he heard the door open. Ran was home, taking off her shoes and putting on her house-slippers, carrying her bookbag to her room with a light call to announce her arrival. He listened carefully for the sound of her feet passing, heading most likely to the kitchen to get a slightly late dinner started.
Of that, he was glad; with all that had been happening he could really use a hot meal--and besides, he adored Ran's cooking anyway. If she wasn't so mad at him that she decided he was going to starve...but she hadn't said anything--she hadn't come to find him. Either she'd had a good day and forgotten about all of it, or...
Or she was just waiting to pop out and really nail him. He gulped at that thought, nervously wondering if she would break out and demand everything of him at the dinner table. Or would she wait until afterward and corner him in the bedroom? With his thoughts still hung up on both Kaito and Ran, he was going through more than enough anxiety as it was. The waiting was really killing him--he almost wished she'd just come out and say something, so he could get over that part of his stress.
Unless she was waiting for him to speak first...and he'd gotten so accustomed to lying to her for so long that he didn't really know how to tell her the truth any more...
When he got up the courage to answer her call to dinner, she didn't act too peculiar when he came into the room and sat down. She merely fixed him with a pleasant gaze and welcomed him to the table--although her usual sweet Ran-neechan face was absent--and he managed to reply with a somewhat half-baked Conan-smile. The meal was oddly normal, and that in itself was frightening. Kogoro Mouri had no clue that anything was unusual, and Ran served up the food and talked pleasantly about her day at school as if nothing were amiss.
The only thing wrong was that her Ran-neechan voice wasn't used when she spoke to him; he grew increasingly edgy as dinner wore on. The more they talked, the more like an adult she spoke to him--and at first, he responded in kind for several sentences before hastily correcting himself, forcing up his Conan-voice and babbling cutely, trying to make up for his error. After dinner, he fled to bed just to get out from under her gaze--her eyes were so deep, and they just had to know; he couldn't bear to see her doubting, suffering eyes any longer.
If Ran noticed that Conan was just a little bit neurotic that evening, she never said anything.
Friday, when it arrived, came quickly. The day began fresh and sunny--and for Conan, early; his nerves wouldn't allow him to sleep any more. He was up, washed, dressed, and ready for school long before Ran even stumbled in to start breakfast. He spent the interim pacing--plunking down to fidget when his restlessness finally drove Ran to distraction and she ordered him to be still--and when breakfast was at last served he gobbled it rapidly and skittered out the door, once again leaving Ran far behind.
At school, he was once again unable to concentrate no matter how hard he tried; today was the day. D-Day, the Big Day, the Day of Reckoning. Kaito Kuroba would come for him today.
His constant fretting over Ran's awareness of his situation didn't help his focus any either. He couldn't decide which of his problems was worse--the fact that Ran might have found him out or the fact that he couldn't choose whether or not to turn in Kaitou Kid.
The Ran problem was a large strain on his emotions; it could end messily, with Ran pissed as hell and kicking him out and never wanting to see him again. He couldn't bear it if he lost her...but she had every right to be angry. Even if it was for her own protection, she was his closest friend and she didn't deserve to be lied to, not for so long. It wasn't going to be an easy problem to solve, and his other predicament was only contributing to his inability to keep his identity under wraps where Ran was concerned.
His other problem--personified in Kaito Kuroba, the son of his father's brother--was more of a moral dilemma. He didn't know Kaito well enough to feel any sort of closeness to him, but then there was that little issue of being blood-related to him. And that, frustrating as it was, made Shinichi feel somewhat obligated to talk this through with his cousin. On the one hand, he felt negligent for not doing something once he'd discovered the true identity of the elusive Kid...but on the other, if he turned Kaito in without settling with him fair and square first, he'd feel guilty forever--and worse, he'd be betraying family. Thus his dilemma--how did one find balance between duty to one's kin and duty to one's country?
The hours in class were abysmally long, as usual; no matter what mind-bending quandaries or intractable mysteries he had to deal with, one full day of grade school always took a short eternity to get through. And they were doing math tables again--review, no less--and it took quite a bit of willpower to smile, sing along, and refrain from banging his forehead upon his desk.
When it was finally over, his three usual tagalongs clustered around him on the way down the hall as he weaved through the rush of small bodies heading for freedom. Genta, Ayumi, and Mitsuhiko each wore near-identical stern, concerned, severe expressions. He tried to ignore them as he walked, but by the time they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Ayumi's pointed gaze finally got to him.
"Alright, alright...what's up with you guys?" he asked with a sigh.
"We've been really worried, Conan--"
"Yeah, you've been kinda sad lately--" Mitsuhiko broke in.
"And you never talk to us any more--" Genta complained.
"And we thought maybe something bad happened to you," Ayumi finished, her pinched face showing her sincere worry. "Are you okay?"
"Is one of the big kids picking on you?" Genta asked, hefting a fist. "If he is, I'll pound him for ya!"
"Is it something about a case?" Mitsuhiko asked, almost eagerly. "Should we investigate?"
"No! It's none of your business!" Conan snapped--then regretted his harsh tone when all three drew back with wide eyes, almost as if they'd been reprimanded by an adult... "Sorry, you guys...I'm...uh..." Damn...kids don't get "under a lot of stress"--not like this. So what is wrong with me? What can be wrong with Conan that's plausible if these three blab it all over the place? "I'm...just...sorta homesick!" he blurted, surprising himself with his honesty. Even so, it sounded inexcusably lame--he'd never complained of something like this before.
But it worked; Ayumi immediately cooed comforting words of little-girl wisdom, while Genta and Mitsuhiko hurried to reassure him that no matter what, they would always be his friends and he didn't have to be homesick for his house in America. It was fine with him if the kids thought that "Conan Edogawa" just missed his home and family in America; it was a good cover-up for his real homesickness--the longing in his heart for his old home, his old body, and his old life.
With that, he honestly tried to cheer up and pay attention to them, pepping up his long-practiced Conan-smile and trying to keep pace with the conversation. They were heading out of the schoolyard gates when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall--and when his eyes locked gazes with an identical set of dark blue, all of his progress came crashing down.
He stopped mid-step, nearly getting run over by Genta, who complained loudly and irately. But Conan didn't hear a word his friend said; his eyes were fixed on the young man standing casually at the gate, watching him with a keen gaze and mysterious grin. Tense and guarded, he watched the youth get up from the wall and saunter over, face set in a pleasant smile that suddenly looked guileless. "Yo, Conan-kun!" Kaito Kuroba greeted without a moment's hesitation, waving cheerily. "Hey, what's up?"
At last, the other kids noticed the object of Conan's gape. The boys eyed the newcomer suspiciously, while Ayumi gasped in startled recognition. "Oh! Aren't you Shinichi-oniisan who's in love with Ran-oneesan?"
Conan suddenly had a spluttering fit, as Kaito came to a halt before the little group. "Nope," the teen replied honestly, with a quirk in his smile. "Sorry, ojousan--wrong guy. I'm just a friend of Kudo's." He looked to be hiding a laugh; the only evidence was the humorous twinkle in his eye, which he reserved solely for Shinichi--who was currently absorbed in coughing, with Genta patting his back in concern.
"Then...how do you know Conan?" Mitsuhiko asked, glancing at the coughing boy with a bit of wary puzzlement.
"Oh, we go back a bit," Kaito replied smoothly, hands in his jeans pockets. "I just dropped by for a little visit, and I thought we could catch up." He turned his gaze to Conan. "How about it, squirt? Wanna go have a snack?"
Once more in control of his voice, Conan glanced at the trio beside him, heaved an internal sigh--one that promised he would find some way to repay Kaito for this little indignity--and put on his best acting face. "Sure, Kaito-niichan, I'd love to! It's been a long time since we hung out." Catching the flabbergasted looks of his companions, he turned to them, eyes bright and without missing a beat. "You guys don't mind walking home without me, do you?"
Genta scratched his head, baffled. "But he's a grownup!"
"Conan, you're friends with a high schooler?" Mitsuhiko whispered, almost overawed.
Ayumi, however, jumped to his defense. "Conan's very mature for his age," she told them both primly, using big words she'd heard her mother say on the telephone. "I'll bet he's got lots of grownup friends, just like Ran-oneesan and Heiji-oniisan--and I bet he's even friends with Shinichi-oniisan who's really famous."
"Thanks, Ayumi-chan." ...and I'm closer friends with Shinichi than you think... Conan stepped away from them, standing--invisibly nervous--next to Kaito. "I'll see you guys this weekend, okay?"
The three Young Detectives said their cheerful goodbyes, hurrying off down the sidewalk and quickly becoming absorbed in a speculative conversation about Conan and his cool older friends.
"Well," Kaito began conversationally, once the three were gone, "they seem like a nice bunch of kids."
All pretenses dropped, Shinichi turned to glare up at the youth. "I didn't expect you so early."
Kaito shrugged. "I cut out of study hall to meet you here. I figured there'd be less to explain than if I had to come to the Agency."
"And I'm alone and helpless, so there's no risk to you," Shinichi shot back.
"Come on, Kudo." Kaito looked almost hurt. "You really think I came all this way--waving the white flag, telling you my secrets--just to kidnap you and drag you off in a gunnysack? Jeeze..."
"What did you come all this way for?"
"I didn't want to make your situation worse for you," Kaito replied, suddenly serious.
Shinichi paused mid-retort, startled. "Then...you..."
"Look, right in front of an elementary school isn't the best place to talk," Kaito went on. "Let's go find a place to get something to eat--people always feel more agreeable when they're eating."
"I...yeah...but..." Shinichi took another step back, still finding himself uncomfortable--just as nervous as he'd been when Kaito sat next to him in his house on Wednesday. He didn't know him, he didn't trust him...and that would make diplomacy between them shaky at best; Kaito had the advantage in size and presence.
If he was going to parley with his worst nemesis, he wanted to do it eye to eye--he wanted negotiation on equal terms.
And he knew only one way to do that.
"Alright, but I have to make a stop first," he announced. "It might take a few minutes."
"Okay..." Kaito shrugged. "Where to?"
"Home."
Kaito raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. They set out down the sidewalk in the direction of the Kudo residence, both in silence. Shinichi watched Kaito carefully out of the corner of his eye, observing how the youth avoided watching him. Kaito stayed a good couple of feet away from him as they walked side by side, and--he noticed with some surprise--slowed his stride so that Shinichi did not have to trot to keep up.
That was new; not even Hattori had accorded him the same consideration.
They arrived at Professor Agasa's gate in good time, and Kaito waited until Shinichi invited him in before stepping through the entry. Shinichi headed inside, announcing his presence loudly before turning to the youth with him.
"I have to go talk with someone for a second. Wait here, and don't touch anything."
Brows up, Kaito shrugged. "Okay, but what's--?"
"Just wait."
Without further explanation, Shinichi kicked off his shoes and hurried down the hall, heading for Ai's chemicals lab.
Ai hadn't been in school today, so he knew only one place she could be. That place was her domain, her sanctuary--the well-stocked workshop-turned-chemicals-lab that Professor Agasa had given her free rein with to discover a cure. And the only reason she would choose not to come to school was that she was working on a potential breakthrough and didn't want to quit.
Or she was just avoiding him. Understandable, given how he'd treated her last time. She had been offended, and his half-baked apology then had been somewhat artificial.
He tapped the door lightly, then poked his head in to glance around. There she was, hard at work on the computer in the lab, small fingers clicking away as she took endless notes, recording countless test data.
He cleared his throat nervously, not sure how to begin. "Hey...Haibara?"
The keyboarding stopped. She took a breath, and when she spoke, he could almost hear the wry smile in her voice. "Shinichi Kudo. I always knew someday you'd come walking back through my door. Something made it inevitable."
He blinked, a little concerned. "Um...should I be worried because you're quoting old American movies?"
"No." Ai spun around on the swivel chair, facing him with a decidedly superior smile--although she hid it well behind her usual emotionless mask. "You should be worried about whether or not I feel generous today."
"What? But I haven't even told you--"
"Let's look at it logically, Kudo-kun, just as you're so fond of doing," Ai stated. "Evidence A: I said something the other night that pissed you off, and you've been mad at me ever since. Evidence B: I prefer not to deal with you when you're upset, so I've been avoiding you, which is making you guilty. Evidence C: You're clever at solving mysteries but with everything else you're as dumb as a brick, which means you haven't been working out your own problems about what happened then and you're still uneasy about speaking to me."
"Evidence...?"
"Yes, evidence which leads me to the conclusion that you've either come to a sudden revelation and have decided to apologize to me for your obtuse behavior--which is highly improbable--or you want something from me." She quirked an eyebrow. "Given the fact that you're still a selfish child no matter what size you are, I'm inclined to think you just want something. Well, mister modern Sherlock Holmes, was my deduction satisfactory?"
Shinichi scowled; he loathed to admit it, but she was right--all he really wanted was to ask her a favor. And he hadn't even managed a decent and sincere apology for their little dispute and his rude behavior therein.
"By your expression, I must've guessed correctly." Ai folded her arms primly, sitting straight in the chair. "So what is it that you want, Kudo-kun?"
"Um..." Swallowing, Shinichi faltered at her quick changes in attitude and tried to find the proper way to address his request. "I know this is gonna sound really stupid, but it's a big favor and I could really use it this time. Can I...have...?" He took one last breath, and let it all out in a rush. "Can I please have just one of those temporary cure capsules?"
His question must have been unexpected, given her startled blink. It took her a moment to formulate her reply--but when she did, her voice was just a bit exasperated. "Of course not! I already told you it's dangerous--and besides, you were an utter buffoon the last time, so I'm not about to--"
"I'm not asking you this for nothing," he cut in, voice husky with utter sincerity. "Look, I'm...meeting someone to talk with him. And I need to be me. Haibara, if he's telling the truth...this might help us both. Against the Black Organization--"
Her gaze instantly chilled. "You brought someone here who is connected to the Black Organization?"
"That's what I'm going to find out." He held up his small hands helplessly--little boy's hands that illustrated the very core of his troubles. "I don't want to try and bargain with him like this. I want to face him equally...and..."
"There's something more to this, isn't there?" Ai asked softly after a moment. "And it's not just the Black Organization--you're stronger than that, and you've faced them like this before..." Her eyes stared into his for a long time, measuring him. "What is it that scares you so, Kudo?"
He winced. "I...I can't tell you. Yet. After this...maybe I can."
"So you're going to risk betraying us to the Black Organization for a secret you can't even share with me?" Ai's frown was penetrating. "Call me selfish, but I prefer to know the reason my cover gets blown, especially if it isn't my fault."
"I think he won't betray me." Even to himself, Shinichi's words sounded lame.
"You think?" Ai was positively stunned. "You're going to risk everything just because you think this person's trustworthy? I always knew you could be dense, Kudo-kun, but this...! What kind of guarantee do you have that you can trust him?"
Shinichi shrugged helplessly, unable to explain exactly how he knew. There was only one reason--only one thing he could say. "Family."
Ai's eyebrows shot to her hairline, and she stared at him for long moments. Finally, she slid off her desk chair, shaking her head. "I don't know why I'm doing this," she muttered, almost angrily, as she walked over to a locked cabinet on the far wall. "It's like I'm putting my own head on the guillotine. You owe me, Kudo."
The moment he realized she was granting his request, Shinichi grinned like a fool. "Boy do I ever--you bet I owe you. Big time! You call it--anything you want--and thanks, I really need this--"
She whirled to him, tiny capsule-case in hand. "This could very well kill you--don't you realize that? It puts so much stress on your body...if anything were to go wrong, you'd die."
Eyes wide, he stared at the case, then at her. "But...nothing went wrong last time..."
"I hope you have a healthy heart, Kudo-kun," she stated grimly, walking over to face him directly. "Don't do anything that requires heavy physical exhertion for at least an hour after the change--both ways--and make sure you drink plenty of water, especially after you grow; your cells will need it because your body mass will have expanded. And eating something high in protein and carbohydrates would help a lot too..." She blinked at her own rambling, shaking her head almost in disgust. "I shouldn't even bother--you're so damned reckless. Here, Kudo--your temporary cure."
With that, she set the capsule-case in his hand.
He held it gingerly, as if it were made of glass, as if it were a sacred relic. This little thing was his salvation, his ticket to freedom, his short taste of real life--for twenty-four hours, he could live again...
"Haibara...thank you," he said, utterly sincere. "Thank you--I'll repay you for this, somehow--"
"Just don't get yourself killed," she interrupted, turning back to her computer. "I still need you to watch out for the Black Organization." She pulled herself back up into the chair and resumed her typing, ignoring him.
Behind her back, his mouth returned to a grateful smile. "Thanks," he said softly, tiptoeing out and closing the door softly behind him.
Kaito was waiting impatiently at the door when he returned to the front hall. Shinichi pulled on his shoes and barked a perfunctory "Come on," as he led the way outside again.
"Now can we go finish our conversation?" Kaito asked, sounding slightly annoyed by the delay.
"Not yet," Shinichi replied shortly, heading around the corner to his own house. Kaito sighed and followed, anxious to be on his way but curious as to what Kudo had planned.
Inside, Shinichi was somewhat startled to note that someone had cleaned up his mess. Ran, he thought guiltily, remembering her long absence yesterday. She did all this. She's always looking after me, even now. He'd have to remember to call her up and thank her...or maybe he could do it himself, if he had some extra time...
With Kaito right behind him, Shinichi went upstairs into his room to rifle through his dresser, pulling out and looking over various garments with a critical eye. He carefully selected several pieces of clothing that met his satisfaction and set them aside, choosing a full set of attire.
Kaito had stopped just in the doorway to wait, glancing around at the interior of the bedroom. "Hey, nice computer," he commented with a low whistle, leaning in to look. "I almost forgot--Ojisan's loaded. Whoa, this is the newest model...! What's the speed on this one?"
"That's not what we're here for," Shinichi all but snapped, turning with an armload of clothing and heading back into the hall. At the upstairs bathroom, he set the load of clothes down just inside the door and turned to his cousin, gaze sharp with warning. "I have to do something," he said firmly, "and it might take a while, but don't come inside. No matter what happens, do not come in."
"Uh...okay..." A bit skeptical, Kaito went with his usual nonchalant shrug and stepped back to lean against the wall. "I'll just...wait here, then, and whenever you're ready... Huh, why would I bother you in the john anyway?"
Without another word, Shinichi shut and locked the door.
Inside the silent bathroom, he stood on his old footstool to fetch the glass by the sink, pausing to regard the image of Conan Edogawa in the mirror in front of him. Sayonara, Conan-kun...at least for twenty-four hours, he thought, a strangely giddy happiness building inside him. For one whole day, I get to be free of you.
The pill case waited. Cautiously, he opened it, revealing the small, harmless-looking capsule lying within. Glass in one hand, cure in the other, he took one last breath, gathering his nerve. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself and swallowed the capsule.
There...it's done. He carefully stepped down from the stool, breathing deeply and trying not to be afraid of the pain he knew would come. The anticipation of it made him tremble; keeping his hands steady, he took off his glasses, setting them gently on the countertop. He then proceeded to remove each article of clothing he wore, folding them neatly and setting them in a pile on the little stool.
By the time he finished, he felt an unpleasant warmth blooming in his middle and beginning to spread through his limbs; the first signs that the chemicals were beginning to do their work on him--heat that would soon be followed by throbbing pain, then by pure agony, mercifully short before unconsciousness claimed him.
He quickly became short of breath, and the room grew uncomfortably cold as his body temperature skyrocketed dangerously. Dizzy and feverish, he stumbled to lean against the wall as his eyes lost focus and the room began to tilt wildly. Shaking now, arms wrapped around himself, he sank down in the corner against the cool bathtub tile and waited for the pain to grow.
And it did, intensifying with horrific swiftness--twinges at first, and then shooting rods of torturous fire that began in the marrow of his bones and licked rapidly outward, throbbing all the way to his skin. He gritted his teeth against the urge to cry out, gasping for air, holding fast against the burning as long as he could until blessedly cool oblivion gave him relief.
To be continued...
AN: Ack, this one took a while...sorry for the wait! By the way, the "old American movie" quote is from Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. Sorry, I just had to do that...it was too tempting! Next File is on the way ASAP, as soon as I can crank it out. I'll hurry this time, I promise! See ya then!