Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Detective Conan and Kaitou Kid are the property of Gosho Aoyama. I do not profit in any way from writing this fanfiction. This story contains spoilers for Detective Conan and Kaitou Kid, and includes quotations from the manga, anime, official wikis, and other sources.
Lieder ohne Worte
Chapter I
AL: I’m bored.
AL: I’m bored.
AL: I’m so bored.
SH: And what exactly am I supposed to do about that?
AL: Entertain me.
SH: It’s school hours! Pay attention to the lesson.
AL: Oh, please. As if I don’t already know all of this. I could graduate from high school any time I felt like it.
SH: Feeling rather confident, aren’t we?
AL: Naturally. I am a genius, after all.
SH: Genius is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration.
AL: Whoever said that clearly never met me.
SH: Someone’s head is getting so big it won’t fit through the door.
Kudou Shinichi — currently known to the world as Edogawa Conan — tapped send with a quiet sigh and slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket before the teacher noticed. Honestly, what on earth was Kaito thinking? Even if Shinichi privately agreed with him, that didn’t give the magician permission to text him repeatedly during class.
He leaned forward over his desk, pretending to focus on the blackboard while his thoughts drifted. For people like them, forced to sit through lessons they could breeze through in their sleep, school could be mind-numbingly dull. At least Kaito had the luxury of attending high school as himself. Shinichi was still trapped in the body of an elementary school pupil, which somehow made everything feel even more tedious.
It had been a week since the winter holiday at the Yuzawa ski resort, and ever since then he and Kaito had been messaging each other with steadily increasing frequency. Shinichi would never admit it aloud, but it was… nice. Nice to have someone he could talk to freely. There were things he simply couldn’t discuss with his parents, with Professor Agasa, with Haibara, or even with Hattori — at least, not in the same way he spoke with Kaito.
The end-of-day bell rang sharply, slicing through Shinichi’s thoughts and jolting him back to the present. Chairs screeched across the floor, children burst into chatter, and he gathered his things with practiced efficiency, slipping seamlessly into the stream of primary schoolers filing out of the classroom.
Tomorrow was Saturday, and the following Monday was Seijin no Hi — Coming of Age Day. Every year, Japan celebrated those who had reached adulthood, marking the milestone with ceremonies, formal wear, and proud families. For schoolchildren, however, it simply meant a welcome three-day break.
As they walked down the street together, Genta, Mitsuhiko, and Ayumi were already buzzing with excitement about their plans.
“I’m gonna go fishing with my dad!” Genta announced proudly, puffing out his chest.
“My family’s going to visit my aunt in Saitama,” Mitsuhiko added.
“And I’m going shopping with my mum,” Ayumi said with a bright smile. “Then we’ll get cake!” She turned to Shinichi, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What about you, Conan-kun?”
Shinichi shook his head lightly. “I’m just going to stay at home and read a book,” he said, keeping his tone deliberately mild.
Behind him, Haibara snorted — quietly, but pointedly. She gave him a sideways look, one eyebrow raised in a knowing, almost mocking arch. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” her expression seemed to say, though she didn’t voice the words.
After all, when had he ever managed to spend a holiday quietly?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next morning, Shinichi was already dressed and ready when Ran’s voice rang out from the living room.
“Conan-kun! Breakfast is ready!” she called, cheerful and bright as ever.
“Yes, Ran-neechan!” Shinichi replied automatically, his voice carrying through the hallway.
He made his way to the living room, the familiar, comforting aroma of grilled fish and miso soup greeting him. The simple scent felt grounding, almost like a promise of normalcy amidst the unusual turns his life seemed to take. Kogorou was already seated at the low table, the newspaper spread open in front of him. His breakfast dishes were empty, a clear sign that he had devoured his meal long before Shinichi had even stirred from bed.
What Shinichi didn’t expect to see was Sonoko sitting primly beside Ran, perfectly styled hair gleaming as if she hadn’t just walked in early on a Saturday morning.
“When are they coming?” Sonoko asked, leaning forward with undisguised excitement.
“At ten o’clock,” Ran replied.
“Who’s coming, Ran-neechan?” Shinichi asked as he sat down across from her.
Ran automatically reached over to help arrange his breakfast — rice, miso soup, grilled mackerel, and a neat portion of tamagoyaki. A balanced meal… even if he’d honestly have preferred coffee. But of course, no one would give an elementary school kid a cup of iced coffee.
“Aoko and Kuroba-kun,” Ran said with a smile. “Aoko texted me yesterday. She said they’re coming to Beika to hang out for the day.”
Shinichi paused mid-bite. Kaito said nothing about this. Not a single word. It was so typical of him.
“I invited Sera to join us as well,” Sonoko added with a huff. “But she said she’s busy.”
“That so?” Ran tilted her head. “I thought she’d want to come.”
Shinichi hid a thoughtful hum behind his soup bowl. It would’ve been interesting if Sera came too, he mused. The last time she and Kaito had been in the same space, Kid had been performing one of his usual heists…
Ran looked at him, amused. “You seem deep in thought, Conan-kun.”
“Ah, just wondering what we’re doing today,” he replied with the most innocent childlike smile he could muster.
Sonoko snorted. “Don’t worry. We won’t leave you behind.”
Kogorou suddenly let out a sharp, startled “Ah!”
The sound cut through the quiet morning like a dropped dish. Shinichi jerked his head up immediately, spoon halfway to his mouth. Ran and Sonoko both froze, startled by the rare display of energy from the detective before noon.
“What is it, Dad?” Ran asked, leaning over with concern.
Kogorou didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he frowned down at the newspaper, his brows knitting together. After a moment, he slid it across the table, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
“Have a look at this,” he said gruffly.
Ran, Sonoko, and Shinichi gathered around the page. The article Kogorou indicated was small — hardly more than a few paragraphs squeezed between larger stories about politics and celebrity scandals. It was the kind of item most readers skipped over without a second glance, but the name printed at the top caught all of their attention.
“Here,” Kogorou said, tapping the column with his finger. “Read from there.”
“‘Miyama Kirika, known nationwide for her involvement in Kaitou Kid’s Stradivarius violin heist a few weeks ago, has passed away peacefully in her sleep a few days ago. She left behind the famous violin which, according to her letter, is to be given to the person who helped her.’” Ran read the words slowly, her voice soft and tinged with surprise.
Sonoko covered her mouth. “No way… That granny?”
“She looked fine during the heist,” Ran murmured, still staring at the print as if expecting it to change.
“She was already well into her years,” Kogorou said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
Sonoko leaned closer. “That violin— the Stradivarius… Who do you think she gave it to?”
“It’s probably her family,” Kogorou replied with a dismissive grunt. “These things always end up with relatives.”
“But it says here she left it to ‘the person who helped her,’” Sonoko insisted, tapping the line with her perfectly manicured nail. “That sounds pretty deliberate to me.”
Ran nodded thoughtfully. “She must have meant someone important. Someone she trusted.”
Shinichi said nothing, though his mind was anything but quiet. A priceless Stradivarius. A witness connected to Kid’s heist. A conveniently vague inheritance. The person who helped her… Could she possibly mean Kaito? That would be ridiculous… right? Except… it wasn’t. Kaito had helped her retrieve the violin. Quite dramatically, in fact.
“Who could that person be?” Kogorou muttered again, clearly irritated that the newspaper hadn’t provided him with all the answers he wanted.
Even after Shinichi had finished his breakfast, Kogorou and Sonoko were still wrapped up in their increasingly elaborate theories, voices rising and falling in animated speculation. Then, cutting straight through their chatter, the cheerful chime of the agency’s doorbell rang out.
“I’ll get it,” Ran said, rising from her seat with her usual grace.
She headed to the entrance and slid open the door—revealing Nakamori Aoko bundled in a cheerful scarf, and Kuroba Kaito with his trademark easy-going grin.
“Please come in,” Ran said warmly, stepping aside.
The two teenagers entered the living room, bowing politely. Kogorou acknowledged them with a vague grunt, eyes still half-fixed on the newspaper. Shinichi’s gaze, however, went straight to Kaito, who looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the entire morning complaining about boredom through text.
“So, what are you guys doing?” Kaito asked, strolling over casually and glancing at the open newspaper on the table.
“We just read the news about Miyama-san,” Ran explained.
Both Aoko and Kaito blinked in mild confusion as they settled onto the sofa, prompting Sonoko to launch into a rapid-fire summary of the incident—the stolen Stradivarius, the daring heist, and the eventual capture of the culprit, all delivered with the flourish only she could manage.
Shinichi’s eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, never left Kaito’s face. The teen’s expression was carefully neutral, open and puzzled in the exact same way as Aoko’s: eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly, lips curved in a faint, almost casual interest.
“So in the end, Miyama-san got her violin back and Kinomoto was arrested. Serves him right,” Sonoko concluded with a decisive nod.
“They’re wondering who inherited the violin,” Shinichi added lightly, stealing a sideways glance at Kaito to gauge even the slightest reaction.
But Kaito’s performance was flawless.
“That must be her family,” he said with a calm, dismissive certainty, as though the matter were entirely obvious.
Aoko nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
The conversation soon shifted to their plans for the day.
“We could hang around Beika Mall,” Sonoko suggested.
“And then we could hit a karaoke box afterwards,” Aoko added, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It’s decided, then!” Sonoko declared triumphantly, practically clapping her hands.
Shinichi groaned inwardly. Hours in a mall… shopping, browsing, endless chatter… The thought made him wince.
Kaito, catching the exact moment Shinichi’s soul threatened to flee his small, inconspicuous body, raised an eyebrow. Then, with an infuriatingly smug tilt of his lips, he offered a solution. “Why don’t I stay with Conan-kun? You girls can enjoy yourselves without us slowing you down.”
To Shinichi’s astonishment, Ran, Sonoko, and Aoko all agreed immediately.
“Good idea.”
“Right, boys hate shopping anyway.”
“Conan-kun will get bored.”
The decision was unanimous.
After that, they left the agency and made their way to Beika Mall. The moment the girls set foot inside, they practically vanished, swallowed by glittering aisles of boutiques, cosmetics counters, and displays of winter fashion. It was mostly Sonoko who moved with unrestrained enthusiasm, dragging Ran along in her wake—and now she had managed to rope in Nakamori as well.
Shinichi and Kaito were left standing in the entrance corridor, the hum of shoppers around them contrasting sharply with their own quiet bubble.
“So…” Shinichi asked, crossing his arms, “what are we going to do now?”
Kaito placed a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes wide, lips curved in mock horror. “Is that any way to speak to your saviour?”
“My… what?” Shinichi asked, unimpressed.
“My saviour,” Kaito repeated, tossing his hair back with theatrical flair. “I saved you from the devilish clutches of those girls! Do you have any idea what they had planned for us?”
Shinichi raised an eyebrow. “Shopping?”
“Shopping,” Kaito whispered, as if the word itself were a curse. “Dragged from one shop to the next, trapped in changing rooms, forced to carry mountains—mountains, I tell you—of shopping bags. No man deserves such a fate.”
Shinichi stared at him, deadpan. “I’m leaving.”
“Oi, oi! Don’t abandon your partner!” Kaito protested, but his expression immediately brightened. “Come on—let’s hit the arcade!”
Beika Mall’s arcade was bustling, and for good reason. Neon lights flickered overhead, rows of machines beckoned with blinking buttons, and the cheerful chaos of kids, teens, and the occasional over-competitive adult filled the air. The clink of coins, the hum of racing games, and the electronic blasts of fighting tournaments mingled into a strange symphony of excitement.
“That one!” Kaito pointed enthusiastically, dragging Shinichi from machine to machine. Mostly, he played, hands flying over buttons with fluid precision, while Shinichi mostly observed, arms crossed and brow furrowed. When Kaito insisted it wouldn’t be fair, Shinichi gave in and tried a few games himself.
Now they were at a shooter game. The screen flashed rapidly, bullets flying, targets falling.
“Perfect score!” the machine blared, the celebratory chime cutting through the arcade din.
“You’re really good at this,” Kaito commented, leaning back slightly as the screen flashed with Shinichi’s score.
“My father used to take me to the shooting range,” Shinichi replied casually, turning to face Kaito. “And I shot you. Twice.” He allowed himself a small smirk. Well… technically, he hadn’t really shot Kid—just the fake projection Kid had set up on the clock.
“You shot me?” Kaito’s brow rose in genuine bewilderment.
“At the clock tower,” Shinichi clarified. “I didn’t know it was you at the time.”
Recognition slowly dawned on Kaito’s face. “It was you,” he breathed, a hint of admiration threading through his words. “I was wondering who the hell gave Inspector Nakamori that advice…”
Shinichi grinned, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.
“You made my life difficult,” Kaito grumbled, though there was no real anger in his tone.
“But you were such a noble thief,” Shinichi said lightly, “trying to save the clock tower from its greedy owner.”
“And what about you?” Kaito shot back, mock scolding. “Shooting innocent citizens… tsk, tsk, tsk…”
“If you saw that innocent citizen, please do tell me,” Shinichi retorted, raising an eyebrow.
Kaito leaned forward, his gaze sharp but amused. “Where did you even get the firearm?”
“I borrowed it from Inspector Megure,” Shinichi said with a shrug, as casual as if discussing the weather.
Kaito’s eyebrow lifted higher. “My, my…” He let the words hang, eyes glinting with mischief. “You really are ruthless.”
Shinichi merely smiled, his mind already calculating the next move. After a brief pause, he asked, “So… did you get the violin?”
Kaito didn’t even twitch. It was clear he had expected the question. “That is for me to know and for you to find out, Great Detective,” he replied smoothly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He probably would have said more, but at that moment his phone buzzed. Kaito retrieved it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Hello, Aoko,” he said, voice perfectly calm. A pause. He listened intently. Silence. “Ah, we’re in the arcade.” Another pause. Then, “Okay. See you.”
He pocketed the phone again, expression unchanged, leaving Shinichi to wonder whether the call had been a convenient interruption—or a deliberate dodge.
However, Shinichi didn’t press further. Instead, he asked, “Are they finished with their shopping?”
“Yeah, come on,” Kaito replied with a grin. “We’re having lunch first.”
When they arrived at Olive Tree, an Italian restaurant tucked inside the mall, Ran, Sonoko, and Aoko were already seated, their chatter filling the cozy space.
Sonoko waved energetically. “Hurry up!” she called across the table.
“Nice place,” Kaito muttered under his breath, scanning the warm décor and neatly set tables.
They slid into their seats across from the girls.
“Come on! It’s my treat today!” Sonoko announced triumphantly.
Aoko opened her mouth to protest, but Sonoko ignored her entirely, already scanning the menu as if no one else had a say.
Shinichi’s eyes flicked to the shopping bags piled beside the girls. Not surprisingly, the majority of them belonged to Sonoko—he had half expected nothing less.
The waitress stepped up to their table, notebook poised and ready. “Are you all set to order?”
“Absolutely,” Sonoko said at once, flicking her hair with confidence. “We’ll start with fried calamari, bruschetta, and the apple–gorgonzola salad. And I’ll have the chicken limone for my main.”
Shinichi glanced down at the menu one last time, pretending not to notice Sonoko raising an eyebrow at how seriously he was taking the decision. “I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs,” he said evenly—then added, almost under his breath, “from the children’s menu.”
Kaito leaned back in his chair with an easy grin. “Chicken parmigiana for me.”
“Just lasagne, please,” she told the waitress, keeping her choice simple.
“And I’ll have the salmon sorrento,” Ran said, offering a polite smile. “Thank you.”
The waitress jotted everything down with a nod. “Alright, that should be ready in about ten minutes.” With a polite smile, she left their table, the hum and clatter of the kitchen filling the background.
Aoko turned to Kaito, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “So… what were you doing earlier?”
“We went to play at the arcade,” Kaito replied casually, leaning back in his chair with that effortless grin that seemed to annoy and amuse at the same time.
“Figures,” Aoko muttered, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smile.
Then Kaito launched into a tirade as to what game he was playing earlier.
Their conversation was interrupted when the waitress returned with their order, placing each dish neatly on the table. The rich aromas of Italian spices and freshly baked bread filled the air. As they ate, the group chatted comfortably, teasing each other and laughing over the morning’s antics. Kaito continued his exaggerated tales of arcade heroics, while the girls argued playfully over who would get the biggest bite of the bruschetta.
After lunch, they made their way to the karaoke. Inside, the karaoke room was cosy, with plush seats, a low table cluttered with microphones, and a screen glowing with lyrics. Everyone took their turn singing, though Shinichi steadfastly refused to perform.
“It’s your turn, Conan-kun,” Aoko said after finishing her song.
“I don’t want to,” he replied flatly, eaning back in his seat.
Sonoko snickered, while Ran smiled softly at the exchange, amused but gentle.
“He’s a really bad singer,” Sonoko finally said, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Come on, I’m sure you aren’t that bad,” Aoko coaxed, nudging him slightly and handing over the microphone.
“He is worse,” Sonoko insisted, grinning broadly.
“We haven’t even heard your voice yet,” Kaito added, his tone teasing, eyes glinting mischievously as he leaned back in his seat.
Shinichi shot him a sharp glare.
“Fine,” he said in defeat, reluctantly taking the microphone.
“Oh, this is going to be terrible,” Sonoko muttered under her breath, hiding her smile behind her hand.
He chose the shortest song he knew, a simple tune, and began to sing. His voice was halting and uneven, the pitch occasionally slipping.
Aoko winced slightly but quickly softened her expression. “That’s worse than I expected,” she muttered, immediately realising how harsh it sounded. “I’m sorry, Conan-kun. I’m sure with a bit more practice, you’ll improve.”
“I highly doubt it,” he replied dryly, finishing the song with a small shrug.
“Conan-kun is tone-deaf,” Ran said fondly, her smile warm.
“My turn, then!” Sonoko declared, leaping up with boundless energy and beginning her next song with gusto.
“Your singing voice is atrocious,” Kaito muttered under his breath, loud enough for only Shinichi to hear.
Shinichi elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Kaito, of course, dodged easily, smirking with that infuriating ease that always seemed to irritate him just a little.
Even as they laughed and sang, Shinichi’s mind wandered briefly to the morning’s newspaper—the Stradivarius and Kaito’s inexplicably calm reaction. He caught Kaito glancing at him, eyes sparkling with that usual teasing glint, but he could swear there was something unreadable behind it.
By the time they left the karaoke, night had fallen. The mall’s lights shone against the pavement, casting long reflections. The streets outside were quieter now, but the lingering chatter of the day and the occasional car horn created a comforting hum.
“We have to catch the train,” Aoko said, adjusting her scarf, her cheeks pink from the warmth and excitement. “Today was fun.”
“Yeah,” Sonoko agreed, her eyes bright and a satisfied grin spreading across her face.
“See you again!” Ran called, waving.
“Bye bye!” Shinichi added politely, feeling oddly relieved that the day’s chaos was finally winding down.
“Be careful, alright,” Kaito said with his easy, infuriating grin, before he and Aoko slipped into the crowd, disappearing into the evening.
After Sonoko said her goodbyes, Shinichi let out a long, tired sigh.
“Let’s go home,” Ran said softly, glancing at him with concern and warmth.
“Yes, Ran-neechan,” he replied.
Together, they returned to the detective agency, the day’s laughter and chatter still echoing faintly in their minds.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
When they arrived at the agency, Kogorou was slouched in his chair, eyes glued to the television.
“We’re back,” Ran and Shinichi chorused.
“Oh, you guys are back,” Kogorou muttered distractedly before turning his attention fully to the screen.
The news anchor’s voice cut sharply through the room: “Breaking news. Patrol police have uncovered a mass grave in Aokigahara, containing three bodies killed approximately six months ago. Another body was discovered nearby. Causes of death range from burning alive to asphyxiation.”
Kogorou grunted. “It must be suicide,” he said.
As grim as it sounded, Shinichi knew that suicide pacts weren’t unheard of —groups sometimes chose to die together to escape loneliness or despair. But the sheer brutality hinted at something far darker.
Ran shivered, hugging herself slightly. “It’s really scary.” For a karate champion, Ran was really afraid of supernatural things such as ghosts.
The forest at the northwest base of Mount Fuji had long been rumoured as a place of death. Spanning 35 square kilometres, Aokigahara’s dense trees blocked almost all wind, muffling sound and creating an eerie silence. Rocky, icy caverns dotted the area, some popular with tourists.
Shinichi’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a new message from Jodie-sensei. His pulse quickened. Did she have fresh intel on the Black Organization?
He opened the message: “Cool Kid. Did you watch the news? I’m afraid that we have a serial killer on the loose.”
Shinichi’s mind raced. He glanced at Ran and Kogorou, their expressions fixed on the television. The cheerful exhaustion of the day—lunch, shopping, karaoke—felt suddenly distant, replaced by a cold sense of urgency.
Author’s Note:
Hello, everyone! First and foremost, thank you ever so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a comment or a review.
Songs without Words (Lieder ohne Worte) is a series of short lyrical piano pieces by the Romantic composer Felix Mendelssohn, written between 1829 and 1845.
Sherlock Holmes embarked on some of Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words for Watson’s listening pleasure in A Study in Scarlet.
I have edited a few things in this story. When I read it again, there were parts I didn’t like, parts I felt were out of character, and parts where I think it’s messy with many different POVs, so I have rewritten those parts.