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With too thin wrists and a penchant for stumbling across murder, Shinichi wanted , but never spoke. Perhaps out of fear of pushing others away or perhaps of others perceiving him in a way so delicate than how he wanted to be seen. Or maybe it was his pride and stubbornness that prevented him from ever speaking how he truly felt.
Every day felt no different from the next. He was living a world of monotony, eternally waiting for nothing, and yet everything in the world. In every way, he wanted everything but wished for nothing.
He was fourteen, already old enough to do things on his own. According to his parents, that age had been eleven, when they had disappeared off to nowhere without a single note in sight. He wondered where they had gone then, staying up late in the night, hunched over his dad’s desk as he attempted to focus on The Hounds of Baskervilles, and he read the same paragraph more than 10 times in trying to do so.
Yet, the sun had risen and there was no mom or dad in sight. It was only him in his large house and no one else. Shinichi, by all means, had been abandoned by his parents who wished for an adventurous life beyond what Shinichi’s presence could offer. The ticket of keeping his parents in one place had long since expired and they had gone elsewhere to sate their desires, perhaps even forgetting the existence of their one and only son.
He was fourteen but never enough.
He could hardly stomach any food, hardly do anything except curl up under his dad’s desk. He was three years old again and he dreamt of when his parents were still there. He felt small, as if the world was too large and nothing seemed to be just right for him. He wanted everything yet nothing fit. Everything seemed too large for his too-small hands, and even the book crumpled to the ground from his grasp.
How many days has it been? Three, since his parents had disappeared once more. They came vibrantly and with elegance, shoving souvenirs and money in his arms, almost as an apology for leaving him behind. They had given him new books, a new drawer, and so many more things––but he wanted none of them.
What was one more figure to add to the dusty glass case when he could have his parents, cheerful and happy at home? What else should he do to capture the attention of them, so free and loving, so that they’d stay at home and be in his presence?
It had been a week since he last attended school. It’s okay, he soothed himself internally; he could always make it up––and what was a week of absence when he could easily move up a grade if he so desired to?
His parents had arrived four days ago, coming only to pick up some manuscripts before disappearing off while he had left to eat lunch at Hakase’s. That was four days ago. He hadn’t eaten since. Could not stomach, really, with how ill he felt for no reasons other than his own weakness.
He was weak. He knew that and was very familiar with such a concept.
In comparison to Ran, who was so sensitive and yet compassionate and made her weakness up with her physical strength, Shinichi had nothing but intellect on his side. Neither health nor parental availability, but only wealth and his mind that was as weak as the cover glass for microscope slides.
Despite the bravado he conveyed, he was nothing more than a brat who was too weak to ask and too prideful to even consider begging for his parents to stay. He was broken already at the age of fourteen.
He had one and one-half of a friend (he refused to consider Sonoko one when she was Ran’s friend––not his). He had classmates that fawned over him because he was pretty and good-looking, and approached because he was smart and perhaps he could help them cheat. Girls had crushes on him, but only on the surface-level. That, of course, attracted another group of boys.
People were only nice to him because they saw some value in him––that they thought that by being nice, he would offer them some reward of sorts. It’s nothing new and he had dealt with such people for a long time, given that he had two world-famous parents, but everywhere he looked, someone seemed to be near him for reasons beyond what he could, or was willing to offer.
Shinichi was tired of it all and hardly wanted to surround himself with such people when his parents were the same: people who were only around him because he was worth something.
Except, here, they didn’t see anything in him. That’s why they left. That’s why they’re a lot happier running around the world with the adrenaline and freedom that life gave them. If only to appease their right moral compass, they seemed to occasionally appear, always asking the same question, “How are you? How is school? How is Ran-chan?”
Nails clawed at his arms at the anxiety that coursed through him. He was alone but didn’t want to be. He wished he was more normal and average ––not some ‘genius’ kid; not the son of famous figures.
He wished he was Ran. Kind, compassionate, and parents, though not the best, were present, and of all, cared for her . She had friends to go to, beyond him and Sonoko, and a family to return to every day, whether that be her mom or her dad.
But if Ran (and Sonoko) were pulled away, who would he be? A husk of himself? A ball of social anxiety and incompetence?
His fingers wouldn’t stop and they gripped his wrist tightly, nails pulling against the soft skin of flesh. If only to pull him away from the thoughts that surrounded him––but it was all futile, he knew, for as long as he stayed cooped up at home, avoiding school and society, the only companion he would have would be his mind.
That was a scary thought.
But he couldn’t muster the courage to move away from underneath the desk that was dark and warm. A nostalgic past that he didn’t have anymore. Being under the desk symbolized reminded him when days were much simpler, when all he did was complain about his overarching mom and his distant, yet kind dad. He wished he didn’t always do that and wished he spent more time with them, and yet he continued to act the same way, pushing the two away. Was it out of fear of hurt? A natural response? Or the self deprecating feeling that he didn’t deserve them––that he wasn’t worthy enough ?
The desk meant that some day, someone would come and find him, just like his mom did all those years ago.
But as the sun rose and fell, and the red light of the afternoon sun slipped past the windows and created a warped image of the panels, he stared at the sight with an empty expression, too tired to even think or to move.
Distantly, his stomach ached and his legs hurt with how he had been curled up, but he couldn’t bring himself to even think of it when he felt so… empty. Tired. Exhausted.
If only to be vindictive, he wondered how his parents would react upon seeing the dead corpse of his body underneath the desk. Would they be freed from the burden that was their son? Would they weep and cry? Part of him wanted to give them karma––to punish them at the expense of his own life. And yet he didn’t want to do that because he wanted to be with them .
How many days had passed? He couldn’t tell. Was it three days?
The human body can survive without water for three days. Eight to twenty-one days without food. He was on his third.
It was perhaps fate, or maybe a wish come true, that as his eyes began to close and he felt his red arms numb, that he heard the telltale sign of the front-door being opened.
That was stupid of him. He had forgotten to close it when he had returned from Hakase’s, too disappointed by the disappearance of his parents. Three days ago, he had assumed that he would be fine and that the gates would keep anyone away. Perhaps it was his carelessness that would result in his end.
He heard footsteps, soft, careful, and most of all, quick, yet unsure. Was it someone looking for valuables? If he was lucky enough, they’ll probably avoid the library. Any petty thief wouldn’t understand the value of vintage and antique books, much less those signed by people. They’d go for bigger and more basic things, like jewelry and designer products; hence, if anything, they wouldn’t see him. Most thieves would go straight to the bedroom, then the living room, often ignoring the kitchen and dining rooms unless to look for any display cabinets.
Shinichi listened, tired and exhausted, but curious at the same time. Perhaps in one universe, he’d be the first to investigate the mysterious sounds, excited for a mystery as simple as finding out the intruder. Now, he could hardly care when he barely even wanted to think. He wanted to stay away from his mind––from the depth that it was.
Yet, against all odds, the door to the library opened, loud and creaking. A soft and muffled footstep walked in and Shinichi furrowed his brows. Not as confident and as heavy as Hakase’s, though who would go through the trouble to wear guest slippers?
A familiar head peeked from above, eyes widening at the sight of the teenage boy curled underneath the desk.
“Shinichi?” Mouri Kogoro looked at him with concern and worry.
Shinichi looked up at the sound of his voice and he tilted his head forward in greeting. “Hello,” he said softly.
He wondered what the man was doing here––what he was here for. Did he expect his parents to be here? Or was it for some other reason?
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the other man awkwardly scratched his head and asked, “What are you doing here?” He glanced at the rest of the desk. “Underneath?”
Shinichi shrugged and mumbled an incoherent answer that even he didn’t understand either.
Kogoro seemed to tense up at his halfhearted response and took a moment to glance around, almost as if searching for something. Then, he returned to Shinichi. “Can you stand? Or do you need help?”
The older man watched as the young teenager slowly crawled out from underneath with shaky limbs and a pale pallor that definitely didn’t look healthy. The boy looked as if death had warmed over him. Bags were painted underneath his eyes a horrid purple color and he seemed to be too thin to be considered acceptable, if one were to assume by the hollowness of his cheeks and the jutted bones of his wrist.
Then, Shinichi stopped and settled on the ground in front of him. He looked absolutely miserable.
“Oi, do you know where your parents are? I heard they came but the house was empty––except for you,” he tried to change the subject.
Shinichi responded, slowly and tiredly. “They left.”
Two simple words, both so unassuming and easy to think nothing more, seemed to strike something inside of Ran’s dad. His eyes seemed to widen and an understanding dawned upon him.
He’d always liked Ran’s dad, even though his opinion of him wasn’t the highest when he was a kid. He thought of him as a lazy slob whose carelessness hurt Ran, yet he seemed so much more than that––much kinder and more caring than he’d ever admit.
Perhaps it was because of his kindness that he found himself being carried to Hakase’s house. His limbs would hardly move and he was all but a ragdoll as he gently lowered him onto the couch in the living room. Hakase shifted from place to place, running to grab blankets and then going back to the kitchen to check on the stew he had kept for the last three days.
It was warm, Shinichi thought. Not only the blankets, but the bright homey light and the way Hakase and Ran’s dad seemed to fret over him, worried, even as he laid motionless on the couch. It was selfish to like it when they definitely had other things to do, but he liked it. The feeling of being cared for… the feeling of concern that his parents never seemed to have for him.
When Ran’s dad gently pulled him in a sitting position as Hakase brought a plate of stew over, it was as though every emotion came back to him. The colors returned to his eyes and he felt everything he had been suppressing the past few days. The pain, the sadness, the jealousy, and the happiness of simply having someone that wanted to help.
The stew was warm but tasted horrible, somehow bland and salty simultaneously. Yet, despite the terrible texture, it was also the best thing he had ever eaten. His stomach was the first to warm and from there, the feeling extended to all parts of his body.
It tasted like home. A family.
Does he deserve such a thing so delicate and good as this stew? He feels unworthy, yet Hakase’s beaming smile and Ran’s dad’s growing tilt of his lips told him otherwise.
Everything felt too much––it was too overwhelming for his exhausted mind to decipher, and perhaps for all these reasons, was why he had suddenly burst into tears.
-
Kogoro wasn’t blind nor was he as oblivious as others assumed; he used to be an accomplished policeman and that wasn’t for any reason beside the fact that he, in fact, was observative. Despite their arguments, neither he nor Eri approved of the way the Kudos were raising––or perhaps treating the boy.
Eri, a lawyer and he, a detective; both had seen their fair share of human psychology and they knew that despite what the boy showed––apathy and a flippant attitude––he wasn’t as unaffected as people assumed by his parents’ disappearance.
They knew it wasn’t intentional––that much they understood. But perhaps neither Yukiko nor Yuusaku were ready for childrearing at all. Perhaps they were tired of playing family with a child and wanted to seek for something less restricting and more exciting. For all their intellect that Shinichi seemed to inherit (and perhaps even surpass), neither seemed to realize the mental consequences to leaving a child at their own devices at such a young age and without a decent support-system.
Yukiko, a famous actress and beloved by many, was as high up in society as you could get in terms of world recognition as someone who mostly spoke a language that wasn’t English. She was beautiful, cheerful, and charismatic: someone everyone looked to. And yet, despite excelling so much, the years without excitement seemed to weigh down on her and it became more obvious how unready she was for staying in one place and offering support for a child.
Kogoro could hardly say the same for Yuusaku, however. He seemed to enable her love for trips and extravagance and always supported her as long as she didn’t cross the line. The line, however, being as far as the Arthurian legends were from the Medieval era.
Shinichi seemed to be weighed down by invisible expectations that weren’t set out by anyone at all, but rather festered from the assumptions everyone made. A mature kid; an adult in a child’s body; someone more mentally older than their appearance. But by peeling away the front that he held like a flower petal revealed otherwise. His fragile mental state and low self-worth that seemed to root from assumptions on his end as well, of why his parents were always absent, never considering that he was never the issue.
When Ran mentioned that Shinichi had been absent from school with a disappointed expression, Kogoro hardly batted an eye. He had heard that his parents had arrived and so perhaps he was hanging out with them, maybe even building parental bonds that they seemed to so lack. And then he was absent on the second day, and then the third. By then, worry seemed to consume Ran, so much so that he agreed to check on him.
He had initially planned on stopping by Agasa Hakase, just to lightly check that Shinichi was there, if only to appease Ran’s worry… but one look at the Kudo Mansion left something else in his gut. The emptiness that was seemingly devoid of any human presence and his instincts that told him that something was distinctly wrong.
Climbing over the gate, he abandoned all decorum and carefully walked toward the front door. Surprisingly, it easily opened the moment he turned the knob, unlocked.
The house was dark, already, a slight bit of dust gathering atop surfaces that should be in use. The living room seemed to be unlived in, and it seemed unlikely that the family were just out , not he spotted their car, as unused as ever.
He thought of moving upstairs, or perhaps checking the living room, but then he came across a different door that his instincts told him to check. A gut feeling that developed during his time in the police force.
He was correct.
Shinichi at fourteen was around the same height as Ran and yet he looked so, so small curled up under the mahogany desk. His clothes were rumpled and there was no doubt that this was where he had been for the past three days. The shadows of the desk seemed to only accentuate each angle and the hollowness of his cheeks.
Kogoro moved quickly and swiftly, but not without considering the state the younger boy seemed to be in. He was half-dead, the lights gone from his eyes, and he almost seemed absent despite being right in front of him. He was exhausted, he knew, if his lack of energy was anything to go by. He was also too thin, too light to be considered healthy, and he barely broke a sweat holding the young teenager as he moved as quickly as possible without jostling the poor boy.
He wonders what this constitutes as. Neglect? Abandonment? But it’s not quite those either. The Kudos were well-endowed and they seemed to love showering their son with lavish gifts and dinners when they had the time. Shinichi lived, practically in no shortage of basic necessities and other luxuries; but the emotional aspect he seemed to sorely miss.
It was a convoluted mess, Kogoro knew. But if Ran invited Shinichi over for dinner, or if she decided to do a sleepover with him and her other friend, he simply agreed.
Then Shinichi disappeared and in his place was a child, so similar to the Shinichi he had seen so long ago, yet so much younger.