Chapter Text
He sees her lips moving. Only then did he realize she was speaking, actually talking to him. He scrambles to hear her, hear her voice again after all these years, and he finds that he doesn’t recognize her tone, doesn’t recognize her pitch... His eyes prickle at the thought that even when he doesn’t recognize the sound at all, it just feels so, so, so familiar, and he hates how he doesn’t know this voice.
Miyano Shiho, the woman in front of him, continues to look at him, patiently waiting for his response. The man, Kudo Shinichi didn’t even register what Miyano Shiho had said to him. Shocking him speechless is a rare feat--perhaps the person in front of him is one of the few, if not the only, able to do so. But this time is different. In his face, amidst the mix of emotions, she can see he’s at a complete loss. And so she waits patiently, carefully taking care not to reflect the same conflict in her heart in her expression. Understanding that all this is because she left.
She should, at the very least, take responsibility for this little accidental meeting, right?
And so she said hello, and now, she’s waiting, waiting for him to respond. Because she knows, Kudo Shinichi will get over this. Once he realizes that all this means is that the case of the disappearance of a little girl in his neighborhood has finally been solved after all this time, he’ll move on, she’ll move on, and they can both continue on their own merry way.
They were never supposed to meet again anyway.
But the moment she felt his eyes on him, she knew that he knew. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide, to lie. Not from him. Not with that measly black mask of hers. Not tonight.
And so she didn’t run away--isn’t that what he taught her?
And now, with him like this, in front of her, silent, and just looking, idle thoughts reluctantly pass her mind. Has the great Detective of the East finally been struck dumb after all these years? Never thought just a black dress with barely a slit would be enough to take the Heisei Sherlock Holmes’ breath away. She feels a little bit guilty she’s still so entertained at his expense, as always. The pang of guilt worsens especially when she can’t really ignore the bags in his eyes--is it because of her? Internally, she chuckles. She can’t believe that after all this time, she can still think like this… Very likely that his sleepless nights are because of a case… or her .
She wills away the heaviness that has somehow pooled in her chest. She chides herself, how can she be this weak?
From her periphery, she sees a tall brunette man cast a pointed look at her. His youthful looks make it hard to place his age in the thirties. His suit complements his fairly dark skin rather well. It would have been hard to see from a distance, but she knows him well enough to know that beneath his placid countenance, a scowl is threatening to break on his face. Once he senses she’s noticed, he turns away, leaving the hall.
Looks like they went here for nothing. She feels relieved and let down at the same time. It’s been a while since they’ve caught traces of them . While she would’ve preferred they catch them sooner rather than later, she doesn’t really want to drag him into it again.
Yes, this is her resolve.
In his daze, he barely registers her saying, ”...have to go.”
This grounds him. Suddenly, he’s back at the party, and the place is unbearable noisy. He starts, ”Don’t--”
”I have to.”
The back of her fingers lightly caress his cheek as she guides his hand to hold her mask, putting it on his face. Is it coincidence this minute action stopped the trail of the lone teardrop that fell from the mask?
She turns around and walks one step away. A pained voice squeezes out words, quickly, as if they might not reach her, ”How do I--?”
”You don’t.” Her words cut through his. But she couldn’t resist looking back, and, as she expected, her plain black mask is brought down, his left hand clutching it on his side. He never really liked masks, especially not the ones she forced him to wear.
He crosses the one step distance between them, grasping her wrist. You can’t tell me that. She can hear him clearly, as if he shouted those words at her. But a blank expression remains on her face. At least she hopes so.
“I-- The professor-- The kids-- I--”
She looks at him struggle for words, and she feels herself giving in. Again. Again and again. “Maybe, someday,” is all she says, when she’s had enough of words, spoken and unspoken.
Oh, how she wants to just… to just…
But she cannot. She must not. Not now. Not again.
“Just kidding,” she whispers. He heard it, and she knows.
From the corner of the hall, a woman in the crowd shouts, “Murder!!! There’s been a murder!!!”
Shinichi instinctively looks towards the source. During this moment of disturbance, she manages to move out of his grasp and disappear amongst the crowd.
Dazed at the sudden lack of warmth in his hand, he purses his lips and clenches his fist. He can see her, a bob of strawberry blonde hair, quickly moving her way across the small hall, through the crowd. She knows him too well. Knows that he believes the later he gets to the crime scene, the less clues he would have, the more chances for the culprit to go free. He’d have to leave her alone so he can go investigate…
But if she really believed he can just let her leave that easily, he might just be tempted to believe that Haibara Ai really forgot him after all! He moves to the crime scene in big strides, decisively shouting, “Close all the exits and entrances! No one is allowed to leave until this has been sorted out!”
Really, now, Haibara! It’s because you’ve left me that you forgot such a simple thing like this! ...when you even used to be the one securing the crime scene with me.
A bitter smile settles on his face.
A few steps remain before he reaches the victim, and only then did he feel something off--the crowd, instead of running away from the corner, actually went towards the victim and, the guards, did nothing after he shouted his orders, instead leaving the doors of the hall unguarded.
She is nowhere to be seen.
The man beside him lightly remarks, “Kudo-tantei, it seems you’re really into this! It seems the youth are really enthusiastic about mystery games, huh? Remember to give us a chance to solve it first!”
This party. A gathering for and of mystery-lovers. An event organized to test the guests’ skills. Esteemed detectives invited as special participants. Sponsored by bigwig companies.
Kudo Shinichi laughs softly, and he feels his eyes sting. She really is Haibara.
The man who had been beside him had long left his side, instead moving closer to the victim in an attempt to win the game.
As for Shinichi, he’s already lost.