Hell Hath No Fury

Premonitions

hey, chapter titles are hard. Leave me alone (ง'̀^'́)ง

(￣ー￣)ゞ

There was no true schedule for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters. The end of office hours was only acknowledged as a deadline for paperwork (all paperwork due at 2100 the day after the case). A lunch break could be used for a coffee break, a dinner break, or a much-needed nap. No two days were quite the same, and a peaceful Sunday at home was often sacrificed for a last minute call to arms.

That morning at TMPHQ had the newest officers brewing coffee for seasoned veterans returning from late-night stakeouts. Detectives who'd never gone home poured over crime scene photos and forensics reports, consulting with one another and making notes of their own. A few officers from just-past-dawn cases reported in, and, at the center of it all, Inspector Megure puzzled over the document in front of him.

Kuroha spoke eloquently and elegantly. He embellished in conversations with an intelligence and vocabulary that put most politicians to shame. Each person he talked to, he gave the same respect he'd give to the Superintendent, speaking with the maturity of someone much older. He crafted sentences as a master baker would a wedding cake.

Despite his obvious intelligence, he slapped together reports like a five year old would a cup of ramen.

Five sentences on the page, none of them longer than ten words, described how Kuroha, with the help of young Ran, had found Edogawa Conan. Conan was missing, so Kuroha and Ran called everyone they knew. Once Yusaku told them that Conan was with his parents, they told everyone that Conan was safe. It was the most bare-bones report Megure had received. He stared with incredulity at the not-even three lines of text, wondering what exactly had gotten Kuroha into Division One.

Megure had put a note on Kuroko's desk to see him as soon as possible, but the officer who sat across from Kuroha— Toshima Kotaro, if Megure remembered correctly— told him that Kuroha had been involved in a bombing the night before and was on leave for a few days. Toshima and Kuroha were close, so Megure took Toshima's word as the truth.

The phone on Megure's desk rang. He picked it up, tucked away the shameful excuse for a report. "Hello?"

"Where's Ran?" growled the caller. "She was with that officer with the trench coat last night. She left with him and never came back. Where are they?"

"Mouri-kun?" An affirmative grunt on the other end calmed Megure's nerves a little. "I don't know where she is." Trench coat? Only one officer was insane enough to wear a long coat at this time of year. "Kuroha-kun is on sick leave as of now. He was involved in a bombing." A strangled cry from the other side. "I don't know all the details, but— Chiba-kun! Come here a moment."

Chiba looked up from his desk. "What is it?" He stood up and came to Megure's desk.

"That bombing case last night. Did you see Ran-kun there? Mouri-kun doesn't know where she is."

Chiba nodded. "Ran-san's house was too far, so Kuroha-kun took her back to his apartment. He said he would drive her over in the morning. I'll call him to check."

"Thank you. That's all." Megure returned his attention to Mouri, and Chiba went back to his desk. "Ran-kun is fine. Kuroha-kun is driving her home soon."

Mouri let out long sigh, riddled with exhaustion and one too many beers. "Thank you. I'll give a full report on finding the brat once he comes home."

"He's with his parents, right? In America." Megure shifted in his chair, settled into a more comfortable position.

"That's what Yusaku said, but, honestly, I'm not sure that's safe. Conan never talks about his parents, only about 'Shinichi-niichan' and Yuki-chan and Yusaku. I'm not sure I trust his parents to treat the kid right. I've only met his mom once, and he freaked out. I thought he was being stubborn, but looking back..." Mouri trailed off, lost in memory. "I'll bet you a round of drinks that the kid was close to a panic attack. Compare that to how he is with dead bodies." Unfazed, no matter how much blood and gore there is. Eyes that stare down criminals despite the height difference. A mind that understands in an instant how a trick is done.