Chapter Text
When Heiji arrived back home, he greeted his parents normally and rejoiced in his mother’s home cooking. He debated for a bit before texting Kazuha right before her usual bedtime, letting her know that he was back since she was oh-so-worried about him. Soon enough, he settled into bed himself, laying on his side and staring at his bookshelf of knickknacks and Ellery Queen novels—he’s had more than enough of Conan Doyle and his works after this weekend. With a sigh, he turns onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head and focusing his gaze on a small water stain in the ceiling from when the roof had leaked years ago; it’s hardly noticeable, so he hadn’t bothered with taking care of it.
”Can’t believe I was right,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. Red bow ties and oversized spectacles dance in his head. “He really is Kudō.”
He doesn’t understand the science behind it all, but he assumes that Kudō is in the same boat as well. His mind instantly recalls the date of the Rollercoaster Mystery, which had made the papers, and gives a low whistle. Kudō has been hiding underneath everyone’s noses since that night—quite literally, too—and has somehow managed to avoid being found out. He wonders how many others have been willingly let in on the secret. During their first meeting, Heiji had been too incensed by the competition, thus blinding him to the truth. This time, he first entertained the theory when he began to notice similarities between Kudō and Conan; this suspicion was only exacerbated by the fact that Kudō and Conan were never in the same room during that first case.
Of course, Heiji isn’t stupid—or crazy, mind you. If anything, he simply took a leap of faith and kept an eye out for the appropriate evidence. He thought the Kudō = Conan theory was bullshit at first, but when he caught a glimpse of Conan speaking into his bow tie, he finally got his proof. And it didn’t help that Kudō’s acting was subpar at best; he assumes that Kudō must have learned a few tricks from that famous actress mother of his. And speaking of acting…
… that Kuroba guy—Kudō’s ex-boyfriend or whatever—he seemed to have been doing a bit of acting himself. Maybe Heiji’s just imagining it, but he feels like he’s missing something. Kuroba broke up with Kudō—likely before Kudō shrank. So, clearly, Kuroba doesn’t know a thing about this.
In all honesty, it’s clear that Kudō still cares about Kuroba because cold-addled Kudō still seemed very interested in hearing how his ex was doing. That begs the question, however, of the nature of the break up. This was confusing him because Kuroba seemed to be rather defensive over Kudō. And he even said he still cared about Kudō! He wonders if Kuroba has reached out since that day as Heiji noticed the other didn’t seem to have known Kudō was rumored to be missing…
”Maybe I’ll ask Kudō about dat,” he supposes. Is that considered insensitive? Maybe. But he can’t help it that his curiosity is piqued. Besides, soon enough he and Kudō will be on that level, surely. “Kudō could probably have anyone he wanted with those stupid good looks of ‘is and he’s hung up over that bastard. What a waste!”
Hell, if Heiji swung that way, he’d probably snatch Kudō up for himself! After all, it’s not every day he meets someone both incredibly attractive and intelligent. But he’s got his eyes set on a certain someone right now—a certain someone who is apparently blowing up his phone. His phone buzzes and pings with an increasing amount of notifications. Somewhat irritated, Heiji opens one eye as he picks up his phone, thumbing in the passcode and watching message after message appear. Now fully awake, he sits up and hits call.
”Oi, Kazuha, I’m tryin’ to sleep here,” he deadpans, raising his brows. “Do ya got any idea what time it is? I just wanted to let ya know I’m back. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.”
”And why couldn’t ya just take me with ya, ya jerk?” she snaps back. He lets out a little amused breath, finding himself smiling fondly at the sound of her agitated voice. “Ya didn’t even tell me ya were leaving! Were ya meetin’ someone? Someone ya didn’t want me meetin’?”
Now why would she care about that? Sounds like his Kazuha, always sticking her nose in his business. Somehow, he finds he doesn’t mind that much.
”Oh, I met someone, but ya wouldn’t have had much fun with us anyway. People died and all that,” he says, airily, waving a hand around even though she can’t see it. “Maybe I’ll let ya meet ‘em later or somethin’. I’m thinkin’ of invitin’ ‘em to Osaka. Gotta show ‘em that true Japanese hospitality.” A yawn escapes him, reminding him of the late hour. “Anyway, it was nice chattin’, but I’m beat. Night.”
”Wha—hey!” And he hangs up before she can really get on his case. He drops his phone unceremoniously onto an empty space on his bed and pulls the blanket over his shoulders, letting his eyes fall shut.
That’s a great idea, he thinks, to invite Kudō and his nēchan to Osaka. Whether Kudō likes it or not, they’re pals now and he’ll be damned if he doens’t get the other over here so they can try to figure out who those Men in Black are and what their purpose is. He wants to go toe-to-toe with him—fair and square and all that. Last time, Kudō was sick out of his mind and Heiji was too engrossed in trying to prove himself better for there to be any real competition. And this time, well, Kudō wasn’t really Kudō. Someday soon, Kudō is gonna get his body back and then they can go back to being the rivals that they were destined to be!