Chapter Text
“What do you mean you kidnapped a child?!” says Shinichi perhaps a little too loudly for the classroom environment, though in all fairness it’s to be warranted given the situation. Heads swivel in chairs as gossip sharks zero in on their conversation, spotting their group in particular as the pivotal height of entertainment, a soap opera they don’t have to rush home to the tv for, and chatter around them lulls to near quiet.
Sure, he likes attention. But there’s a time and a place, such as when one is hosting a deduction show. This, right here, is all kinds of uncomfortable.
“Shinichi!” Ran hisses and ah, great. There’s going to be a deduction show soon, but he, as the victim, won’t be hosting it. Add that to her ever growing list of charges. “I didn’t kidnap him! It wasn’t like that!”
“Ohohoho! A detective and a crook,” says Sonoko with a glint in her eye just as bad as their onlookers. A bucket of popcorn wouldn’t look out of place in her hands. “Don’t you worry, Ran. I’ll help you escape capture as mr.one-truth-prevails here agonises over putting you behind bars.”
“Jeez Sonoko! It’s not a kidnapping!”
She says that, but people don’t usually acquire a younger brother after only going out to purchase a pint of milk on accounts of it being highly illegal to buy and sell children alongside your groceries.
“Oh? Then do tell,” Sonoko says, leaning forwards on the desk. “Where did the surprise brat come from?”
“He’s just Professor Agasa’s relative. I bumped into them both on my way back from the shop, and he asked that I babysit him for a while.”
“His relative?” Shinichi frowns at this, having only heard the odd tidbit here and there about the older man’s family, and none of it about any relatives on the younger side planning a visit. “And he dumped them on you?”
“It’s no trouble, really. To tell you the truth, I always did wonder what it would be like to have a younger sibling. It’s nice!” she says, and there’s something soft and hopeful in that, all clustered around a grieving centre. For the what ifs that a broken family could never deliver. “The table gets to be set for three again.”
“Ran,” her name slips from him, but he doesn’t know what else to say, just leaving it hanging in a cacophony of silence, attempted words ventured but unexplored. They sit there, dissolving into thin air.
It’s no secret that Ran wants to glue her family back together again, straight from the scrapbook of memory. Shinichi still remembers the tears, the packet of tissues he’d offered up to little Ran, saving her from sobbing a slew of snot into her sleeves. The separation had hurt her, scarred her left and right with all these metaphorical wounds across her giant beating heart, but she’d remained hopeful, still is, when she realised they never went through with making it official.
Those divorce papers remain unsigned, and for as long as they have been, her resolve has remained undeterred in her schemes, wasting no time to spin one out if the opportunity arises.
Take their aquarium visit not too long ago. That had been her practice trial in setting up a surprise date for her parents.
As it was, the only two who ended up on a date were…
“And Mouri-kun was okay with it?” Sonoko asks because, well, if there’s something that second rate detective of a father Ran has got, it’s a gambling addiction that overextends past the paycheck of someone who’d sooner deduce his way to the bottom of a bottle than correctly solve an actual case on par with what Shinichi deals with. Taking in children out of the goodness of his own heart, and watching expenditures go out to caring for said child instead of on bets is something Shinichi can’t quite frankly picture. At all. Never in a million years.
“He had to be,” Ran says brightly.
And that explains it.
She continues, “Besides, there’s nothing to complain about. Conan-kun is always well behaved, though he seems a bit mature for his age.”
“Conan?” Shinichi reiterates, “Just like…”
“Yes, yes, you mystery otaku. Of course you would notice that. He says his parents were fans. That’s why they named him Conan. Edogawa Conan.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like a fake name at all,” Sonoko says, rolling her eyes. Even Shinichi has to agree; it’s the type of name you’d construct on the fly, slapping two great authors’ names down on the page and writing it off as your own one hundred percent legitimate identity. It’s a little too on the nose to not have you curious about tailing the scent.
Then again, his school, Teitan high derives from the word ‘detective’ like this city has been purposefully constructed to be a detective’s playground, complete with rampant cases of murder.
Sometimes names simply sound fake.
(He hopes this child won’t get bullied for it at school, only to later turn to murder as a solution to his problems.
It’s the little things with murder motives. You would be surprised.)
“Sonoko!” Ran stutters, face flushing as Sonoko leans away from her, apparently having just whispered something embarrassing enough in her ear to warrant that kind of reaction. She also keeps sneaking glances at him. Huh. “He wouldn’t!”
“Oi, oi, what are you both whispering about?”
“Nothing you can’t deduce on your own,” Sonoko says with a smirk that has him absolutely certain it’s something he’ll be terribly invested in deducing.
But of course their teacher walks in before he can get to interrogating her.
Ah, well.
He has other things to concern himself with.
It starts here, he thinks.
First contact with the enigma cradled in an enigma known as Edogawa Conan. By all appearances, he holds the form of an unassuming child. All soft edges and wide, baby blue eyes.
Very unsettlingly familiar eyes.
His first instinct upon meeting the kid staying with the Mouris is to question whether or not he really is the professor’s relative as Ran claims because it is immediately obvious he’s picked his defining features from the Kudou family gene pool. More specifically him.
He even styles his hair the same. Just. What.
“He says he’s a fan, just wants to be like his niichan, don’t you Conan-kun?” says Ran, completely taken by this child sized menace in the making as she crouches down and ruffles his hair. No gel or anything, it just naturally springs back up to match Shinichi’s own with a copycat impression.
The kid in question just gives this overenthusiastic nod, packing a touch too much cheer into his, “Yep!” that Ran refuses to bat a single eyelid at. Shinichi’s sure his twitches.
“Aww! He’s so cute!” Sonoko says, then pauses, blinking. Her gaze whirls over to Shinichi, eyes narrowing. She side eyes the kid again before pulling Shinichi over with a yank of the arm. “… or maybe not. Sure he’s not an illegitimate child of a secret affair within your family?”
Shinichi pulls a face. Sure, he’s glad someone’s on the same page as him, because it really doesn’t take a detective to see the similarities. But is this the conclusion she’s drawing from it all, really?
“I know what he’s like, but it’s not as if my father is the same as Ran’s.” He spends more time running away from people anyway, though that’s usually because they’re his publishers hounding him to meet a deadline.
“Well you haven’t seen him in however long, so I could be right.”
A punctured tyre would be hard pressed to meet the flat look Shinichi gives Sonoko. Like, seriously. There’s deductions, and then there’s just throwing around conspiracy theories for the hell of it. Clearly, she’s running wild with the latter.
“Do the maths. My parents have been in America since I was 14. This kid is clearly older than that. At least 8, I would say. There’s no way I could have a brother that I don’t know about.”
“ Exactly . Not that you know about,” Sonoko says walking off back to Ran and the kid, all self satisfied with herself like she’s puzzled together the bigger picture, when in reality, it’s an entirely different image all together, and she’s taken half the puzzle pieces from another box.
As if he could have a brother and not know about it. Come on. Who does she take him for, not a detective?
“You’re both sure you don’t mind me taking Conan-kun along with us?” Ran asks, and whilst Shinichi is absolutely certain he does mind, every bone in his body does and then some, he’s also intensely curious about this and of course that side of him wins out. “Otou-san isn’t back yet, and I don’t want to leave him alone.”
Sonoko waves a flippant hand. “Don’t worry about it, Ran. We’ll only have problems if the brat kicks up a fuss. Then we would just have to leave him with Shinichi, and get ramen ourselves.”
“Why am I the designated babysitter?”
Sonoko slides an arm through Ran’s, like they’re two steps away from skipping off into the sunset. “Because we came this far to get Ran, and I cancelled my other dinner plans. If it comes to it, we’ll be having a girls day out whilst you boys do… whatever.”
Shinichi sighs, eyes on the kid, his so-called fan. “Let’s just go.”
True to Ran’s reassurances, Conan is on his best behaviour as they sit down and start on the ramen. He seems like an alright kid, as far as kids go, really, the longer he spends with him tagging along, if not for this inscrutable off-ness that trails from the boy like a permanent miasma, and has every detective-shaped alarm bell on Shinichi ringing.
Conan’s spilling secrets left right and centre; there’s no glue holding them together. It all lacks the knot, tying the case closed.
Just like those men in black, he’s suspicious, but suspicious for what?
“Shinichi,” Ran huffs, tapping his bowl with a chopstick to grab his attention, “Are you going to spend the whole evening trying to drill holes into the back of Conan-kun’s head, or actually take a bite to eat? It’s going to get cold.”
“I’m eating, okay? No need to mother me,” he says, making sure to take a few bites before continuing, just to make a point, “But there’s something about him that I don’t like. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Ran shifts in her seat, averts her eyes, and in any interrogation situation, this would be a sure sign of someone avoiding spilling information. But, well, her cheeks are slightly flushing.
“Are you, maybe, jealous that he’s been spending so much time around me?”
“What?” he’s well aware of how strangled it sounds coming from him, but, well, how else is he supposed to react to a question like that? Shinichi clears his throat. “No, it’s more like — you’ve seen his face. It feels familiar.”
“Oh aha, of course! I was only messing with you. You didn’t think I was being serious, did you?”
“Of course not,” he mutters, deflating.
“I know he looks similar to you, at first that was all I could see,” Ran confesses, sounding amused with the notion, which makes sense considering ‘he reminds me of you’ isn’t exactly a compliment whereupon being compared to a brat. “This mini you with this same nose for mysteries. But I assure you the similarities end there. He’s… very Conan.”
“Very Conan?”
“Exactly.” Ran nods, satisfied. “He could never be anyone else except who he says he is. You’ve been spending too much time around criminals and suspects to see this… good in people.”
“You think?” The thought stings coming from Ran, but caution gets the job done. He can’t afford to ever get his head out of the game.
“He’s not someone to be suspicious of.” Ran hums. “I’m grateful to him. You know how at Topical Land I said it wasn’t me who found you unconscious?”
Shinichi nods along, intrigued by the turn in conversation. “Yeah?”
Her eyes rest on Conan, this soft edged thing, glistening with gratitude. “It must be a small world we live in, because it was him.”
Okay, for real this time.
Tracing back events, Shinichi’s fairly certain that his troubles start the moment Tropical Land enters the equation. For a place so cheery and bright, the epitome of childish delight, it’s oddly enough becoming a hotspot for troubles pertaining suspicious personnel lurking around with their murder-hardened eyes. Or maybe that’s just his influence from simply being there . Though it’s more of a coincidence, if anything. He hardly appreciates the back and forth debates about his supposed Shinigami heritage that have been circling up in rumours when the truth of the matter is that there’s just that many people in Beika who have an appalling lack of value for human life and an inability to settle disputes like normal people through talking matters out .
Still, they do have a habit of cropping up at the most inopportune times when he’s in the immediate vicinity, people timing their crimes just right to coincide with his day’s plans. The aquarium case was just barely a week before this with a just as intricate, just as thought out masterminding of the crime. But it’s nothing he can’t unravel with a bit of detective work. Practically child’s play.
Complaints about his city’s residents aside, this case does, once again, give him a chance to throw his name onto headlines as ‘the saviour of the police force’ (and hey, if they want to call him that, he won’t stop them). It’s another crazy ex this time, blinded by a fit of jealousy, taking out the victim in one of the more… grisly ways to go out. A beheading on a rollercoaster. Incredibly inhumane, and yet.
The tears she shed for him gave her away. Salty. Bitter as regret.
And as interesting a puzzle as it was crack, it sours the mood of his not-date with Ran. If it were a pie, he’d attribute the whole experience to a lemon one. Low ratio of sugar, high contents of citrus. Not for the faint hearted.
And she’s definitely pulling a screwed up expression right now.
Still. He can salvage this. Just offer to walk her home like a gentleman, and maybe, just maybe if he crosses his fingers and toes tightly, embodying every single optimist out there — strange for him, he knows — she’ll forget all about how ‘ somebody died you know! ’
Except —
Except —
He smells a case. A big one. And it’s tied to those suspicious men he caught at the scene of the crime, both garbed head to toe in black as if prepared to attend a funeral at the drop of a hat. Sure, they’re unrelated to the previous case. But even so, they stick out like sore thumbs, arousing far too much suspicion to be anything other than up to something. Itching to leave the crime scene, dropping names that Shinichi’s willing to bet are one hundred percent fabricated, just to keep the police off their backs.
He’s calling it now. They’re not here for the rides — at least, not in full — but rather what will happen after they have killed sufficient time. Now running late due to reasons, they are rushing straight to the arranged meeting spot to conduct a shady deal.
And he’s going to be in the headline’s for busting them.
Well. That’s what Shinichi wants to say. Really. That would be the ideal reality. In truth — because this is one of his greatest principles he must abide by like any other good citizen, and yeah, also because Ran says he can’t lie to save his life — he finds himself in a bit of a situation.
Just a small problem.
Tiny really.
Nothing big .
Completely elementary .
You see —
(In another world it would be tailed by a series of highly unforeseen events. Of lies, and bow ties, and an assortment of alcoholic beverages, down a rabbit hole of complete black.
But.
Here’s the thing.)
He blacks out. No whack on the head. No screaming. No melting bones, frying every tendon as his body contracts to pocket sized. It simply falls out of possibility.
Instead, a prick of his neck, like he’s been victimised by a passing mosquito.
A culprit that leaves him saved.
(Not that he’s to know.)
“—ichi! Shinichi!”
A thrum of an engine, a bounce, and he’s being jostled slightly, his head lulling against a headrest, pounding like no tomorrow. Bruised, a nasty purple, maybe, or in the process of it. Shinichi feels himself wince, steadily coming to at the motion.
He feels as though he’s slept with a crick in his neck, groggy and unsure of his surroundings as he takes a moment to rub the sore spot at his nape, shifting his position to upright as easily as his seatbelt — and when had he put this on? — can allow. With a blink, and a follow up, the filtered blur sharpens up into less ambiguous watercolour shapes until his setting is clear. Familiar, even.
And so are the figures.
Ran’s hovering over him, this pensive frown on her face as she sits buckled up next to him. It’s the yellow Beetle, the Professor’s car they’re in. But he can’t recall for the life of him what’s led up to this chain of events.
The men in black?
Then what?
Ran should’ve been well on her way home by then. Had she sorted out her shoelace and pursued him anyway? Must have. A Ran with a goal in mind is not so easy to sway.
(Dangerous, though. Those guys are not the type of people Shinichi wants Ran to get involved with, no matter how powerful her kicks. Call it the worries of a childhood friend.
And, well. Maybe she’s something more.)
Leading on from that, Ran would have come upon him unconscious — another mystery in itself; had those men struck him with a sedative? — and proceeded to call the Professor to pick the pair of them up.
Which leads him to here, on his way home when what he needs is to be back at Tropical Land, looking back at the CCTV footage so he can profile the faces of those he was pursuing. And if that isn’t enough, he’s gone and made Ran all worried for him. Great way to end an outing. Bravo. Full round of applause.
“Shinichi!” says Ran again, and oh right, she’s been calling his name a while, “You’re awake.”
“He’s up?” comes a second voice from the front. The Professor spares him a glance through the rear view mirror. “You had us worried, falling asleep in a place like that. Was it related to a case?”
“Yeah, it was.” He groans into the palm of his hand, then proceeds to lift his gaze. “Hey Professor, turn the car around. I’ve got to go back and see if they left any evidence behind. Maybe someone other than me saw something.”
They dress in pitch black trench coats with sunglasses; that’s got to leave an impression on the general public. And if not them, a security guard on duty may remember them.
“It’s late,” the Professor says, making no move to turn around. Figures. “The park’s closed by now. You would have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Damn it. How long was I out for?”
“A while,” says Ran, a mix of worried and frustrated all stirred into a hotpot of stress that has Shinichi wondering if she has half the mind to hug him or use him as a dummy for karate practice.
“I even had to check your pulse!” she continues, and ah, he’s just secured his position as a test dummy, “You were just lying there! You’re such a- a- a! Urgh. You idiot, you shouldn’t have gone off on your own like that. Don’t you trust me to be able to protect myself? Or you?”
“Ran,” he says simply, placatingly, “C’mon, it wasn’t like that. And see? I’m fine, right? This is just the nature of detective work.”
Ran stares him down, long enough that Shinichi feels the prick of goosebumps, every survival instinct in him begging him to back down out of her sight. But Ran deflates, lowering her eyes, expression downcast.
“You’re lucky a little kid found you.” Ran winces. “I almost went home on my own. Honestly, Shinichi. You should have told me you were feeling unwell. You clearly weren’t in any shape to go chasing after any cases. Look at you. You collapsed.”
“It wasn’t my intention. I was fine until I felt this sudden pain in my neck. Unless I’ve suddenly developed narcolepsy, I have reason to believe that whoever didn’t want me witnessing that deal had me drugged.”
“Your neck does look a bit red,” Ran says, squinting at it. “So you discovered an illegal deal? Is that what those two strange men had you worked up about?”
“Well I didn’t get to discover it.” Shinichi huffs, frustrated at himself. “I was out before I could witness anything incriminating.”
“You really should be more careful where you stick that nose of yours. Who knows, maybe this will be a lesson for you.”
“Hah! A lesson for them maybe. They’re going to learn just who they’re messing with.”
Ran rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “A stubborn deduction freak, through and through.”
It isn’t until the next day that he realises that having them ‘learn just who they’re messing with’ may prove to be a tad bit trickier than expected. Somewhat.
“Nothing? Absolutely nothing?”
The two security guards on duty exchange a look.
“Sorry, kid,” says the tall, lanky one on the right, “It’s like all the footage on those tapes has been scrubbed clean. We’ve got a technician looking into it, but a power outing may be to blame.”
“Sounds more like a disposal of evidence,” Shinichi mutters to himself. Then, to the guards, “What about your colleague? The one working that night? Did he see anything suspicious?”
“Now that you mention it,” says the one on the left, humming thoughtfully, “He did see an unconscious teen being hauled off into some bright yellow car. Hang on, I think he text us a registration.”
“No need, that’s everything,” Shinichi says perhaps a bit too quickly , motioning for the man to return his phone back to his pocket.
It’s only when he’s finished walking out of earshot that he lets loose this long, deep sigh, scratching his head.
“Damn, that’s another lead gone. Not even that kid Ran spoke to left a name, though I doubt he’d be able to give a concise description even if I did somehow locate him. All I have to go by is my own witness account, and the fake names those two men gave the police. It’s so…” The corner of his lip twitches, the beginnings of a sharp-toothed smirk. “Challenging.”
By all appearances, it’s like those men never even existed at all, clean slates wherever there should’ve been a trace. But if he can find whatever it is of interest to them, what had been worth sticking their necks out in the open like this, then there’s a chance he could lure them back into existence. A simple, irrefusable trap.
They’ll take the bait, alright. This sort always does.
It’s only a question of how long he’s prepared to wait at his own game.
“Ah, Shinichi,” greets the Professor at the gate of his house. His face falls when he seems to take note of his expression. “I take it you didn’t discover anything of much use, then.”
“No more of use than that jet pack of yours,” Shinichi says, throwing his thumb in the direction of the gate, and beyond, to the gaping hole in the wall of the Professor’s house. “You should get that fixed. Weather report says it’s going to rain soon.”
“Is that so?” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm, I think I have a half finished invention that could come in handy then.”
Shinichi waves him off, unlocking the gate to his family’s mansion. “Hey, it’s your call if you want to destroy your entire house whilst you're at it.”
“What? Oh, come now, don’t be like that. This one will work this time.”
“That’s what you always say,” he says over his shoulder, “Just try and keep it down, alright? I have some research to do.”
“ Shinichi! Guzzling iced coffee is not going to keep you awake,” says Ran on their way to school, directing her long since perfected face of disappointment at him. Again. It’s like she’s snatched the trademark look from any parent and self appointed herself the mum friend of their group. “Did you not get much sleep done last night?”
“Time got ahead of me.” He shrugs, downing what’s left of the flask. “I take it it’s the same for you? Those eyebags didn’t put themselves there.”
Ran subconsciously reaches to rub her eyes.
“Well whilst you’ve been stuck on your big case, I was up late because of Otou-san. He solved a kidnapping.”
“Yeah right.” He snorts. “That old geezer? You sure he wasn’t just telling you about a nice dream he had?”
“I’m serious. If you don’t believe me, check the local news.”
Now that catches him off guard. He gives her this long, considering look. “So you’re being serious? Huh.”
“Why, worried you have competition now he’s found his footing again?”
He scoffs, because come on. The day Mouri Kogoro comes even remotely close to his level is the day pigs start flapping their magical, feathery wings all over Beika. In other words: not going to happen.
“Hardly. One case alone isn’t enough to write home about. It was probably a case of dumb luck, nothing more.”
Ran huffs, charging ahead at a speed true to her namesake. “We’ll see.”
“… And then some days after Otou-san’s case, I met up with Conan-kun again, and this time he was with the Professor,” Ran finishes off after another mouthful of ramen, “We’ve only had him a short while, but it’s almost as if he naturally fits there. But that’s silly, he has his home. This is just temporary.”
“You mean you’ve been living under the same roof as a key witness to my case, and you didn’t think to tell me?” Shinichi says, perhaps with a little more bite than Ran deserves, but this is one hell of a coincidence, and he’s none too happy about being left in the dark about it.
“He’s a child.” Ran frowns. “He likely didn’t even see anything.”
“Whilst that’s true.” That Shinichi cannot deny, not having had the best track record when child plus crime scene always equals disaster, never a clear statement to give. Thankfully, he hasn’t had to deal with many pint sized toddlers running amok when trying to gather evidence. It’s not the most child friendly environment. “There’s the possibility that he could have.”
“It’s not like you to have so much faith in children to be key witnesses.” Ran’s face scrunches before she has what he can most accurately describe as a lightbulb moment — one he’s usually on the other end of. “Are you actually on a case that’s stumping you?”
“There’s no case I can’t solve,” Shinichi says quickly, reflexively, “But I may have hit a roadblock.”
Ran’s expression softens in understanding. “I’ll ask Conan-kun if he’s up to being questioned. But don’t be too hard on him. He may want to be a detective, but I don’t think he’s had much experience with this type of thing. If he saw anything that night, it would have had him shaken.”
“Got it,” he says as he gets back to attempting to polish off the ramen, now suffering from being lukewarm. Shinichi stares into the liquid, pondering.
Just what is that Edogawa Conan not telling them?