my favorite line from the chapter
┐( ˘_˘)┌ (つ･･)つ¤=[]::::::>
Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ai took a very deep breath. “Please say that again,” she said through gritted teeth.
Halfway across Japan, Heiji plugged his other ear. “What was that? Gimme a minute, Kudou's bein’ too loud.”
In the background, Ai could hear the war of words already in progress. “Like I said, the saying is 'fall down seven times and get up the eighth,” Shinichi argued, “not 'fall down seven and get a wheelchair.”
“That's refferin’ ta life, not ta actually fallin’,” Kazuha shot back. “There's a difference between givin’ up an’ admittin’ yer legs aren't workin’ right.”
“That doesn't mean I have to use a wheelchair. Hattori, back me up on this.”
“Oi, don't drag me inta this. I'm the one talkin' ta the little nee-chan so you don't hafta,” Heiji pointed out. “I'm goin’ upstairs. Kazuha, make sure Kudou doesn't try ta follow me? He'll overexert himself too much.”
“Going up the stairs is not exerting myself!”
“It is when ya fall halfway up,” Kazuha cut in. “Ya’re stayin’ here, so ya better quit whinin’.”
“But Kazuha-chan,” Shinichi whined childishly.
“Don't you 'but Kazuha-chan’ me,” Kazuha said, the beginning of another argument. Ai didn't hear the rest of it, as the bickering gradually grew quieter. She wasn't complaining though, the absence of bickering a relief.
At last, Heiji finally spoke to her, the background noise all but gone. “Sorry 'bout that. Kudou ain't happy at all 'bout what ya told 'im yesterday. He's tryin’ ta convince Kazuha to let 'im outta that chair now.”
Ai sighed, long and tiredly. “He is a handful. Thank you for dealing with him. My patience is minimal. If he were to fight me on this wheelchair situation, I would likely stop working on this neutralizing agent to get him to cooperate.”
“An’ I'm not sure how Oyaji would take that. He's warmin’ up ta Kudou, but I don't think he's ready ta have 'im stickin’ ‘round for another two weeks,” Heiji said, a note of humor in his tone. “What was I tellin’ ya about?”
“The stairs? Kudou-kun and Toyama-chan were arguing about it, and you were going to tell me what that idiot did.”
“Oh, yeah. Yesterday, he tried ta go down the stairs an’ slipped on the second step. Okan thought he was fine, but she said he should stay off his feet just ta be safe. 'Bout an hour later, he tried ta sneak back upstairs, an’ he almost made it, too. He fell the whole way down, so Okan put 'im on couch arrest.”
“Is that a thing at your house?”
“It is now.”
“Hm. Did he try anything after that?”
“Nah. Okan called his mom an’ told her what he did, so if he tries anythin’ else, Yukiko-obasan’s gonna have free reign when she disguises Kudou.”
“She isn't there yet? It's been two days.”
“They were in America, an’ a murder happened at then airport, apparently. A really bad thunderstorm delayed their flight yesterday, an’ then they're gonna try ta fly over today from the west coast. With any luck, the next murder will happen on the flight instead of b’fore it.”
“I see. And has he developed cabin fever yet?”
Heiji shuddered. “It's like nothin’ I’ve seen b’fore.”
Ai laughed. “Don’t worry. Just show him where your books are. He'll gladly read until he passes out.” She paused. “I'm not making much progress on this drug. Don't tell Kudou-kun anything yet. There’s no reason to get his hopes up.”
“Understood. An’ thanks for the advice.”
“No problem. I will call if there are any new developments. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
(⌐▨_・)ﾂθ☆● ‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)—̳͟͞͞o
Late that night, a knock on the door woke Shinichi from his nap. He'd taken to sleeping on the couch for the past two nights. The first night because he fell asleep there on accident, the next night because he preferred to not be carried up the stairs like a dog. His legs were too weak to walk on, and each time he tried, his knees buckled and he had to crawl to get anywhere. Kazuha blamed it on Shinichi’s insistence to map out the entire house, and Heiji said it was just because Shinichi couldn’t sit still. Which, by the way, was a lie. Shinichi could sit still, he just didn't want to.
With a twelve year old body came the joys of puberty: hormones. He seriously took up soccer around middle school, so he'd had an outlet for all this energy. But when he was confined to the inside of the house, not even allowed (or able) to dribble a ball through the hallways? Shinichi was beginning to get just a little stir-crazy.
The first day was fine. Well, the first morning. Shizuka helped him refine his cooking skills, but his attention span was short. By lunchtime, he needed something else to occupy his time.
After crawling his way up the stairs (no wheelchair yet), Shinichi raided Heiji’s bookcase and took every mystery novel to the room where he'd talked to Ran. He spent the next seven hours reading each of Heiji's sub-par Ellery Queen stories, complaining aloud at each thing Sherlock could have done better. It was oddly therapeutic, despite the fact that Heiji had a point— Ellery Queen wasn't half bad. (Shinichi wanted to bleach his brain as soon as he had that thought.)
The next morning was the day he fell down the stairs. After Kazuha and Heiji forced him to stay in the wheelchair, Shinichi decided that Heizo could provide more mental stimulation than Heiji’s books. Once he found Heizo's office, he picked out a pile of decade-old cold cases, spending the day solving them. By the time Heizo returned from an out-of-town police summit, all fourteen cases sat next to Shinichi on the floor, a typed-out summary of how each crime was committed taped on the inside. By then, Shinichi was already out cold on the couch.
Too much energy led to long naps and an odd sleep schedule. He was a light sleeper, either way, and the knocking at the door was really loud.
Groggily, Shinichi pulled himself into the wheelchair and pushed himself to the door. Awkwardly reaching for the door handle, he opened the front door just a sliver. “Who is it?”
“Shin-chan!” The door burst open, shoved with enough force that it slammed into Shinichi’s toes. He shouted in pain, drowning out his mother's ecstatic greeting.
“Yukiko, you need to be careful,” Yusaku said from behind her. Poking his head past the door, he looked down at Shinichi, eyes running over the wheelchair. “That's a new development.”
Footsteps thundered down the stairs. “Kudou-kun? Are ya alright? Who's there?” Heizo shouted.
Once he managed to get his wheelchair out of the walkway, Yukiko attacked Shinichi with a hug. “Oh, I'm sorry, Shin-chan. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
Squirming in her grasp, Shinichi gripped his foot, grimacing in pain. “Kaa-san, leggo. Can't breathe.”
The lights in the front room came on. “Kudou-kun?” Heizo came to the entrance, visibly deflating as he found Shinichi. “There ya are.”
“Sorry for shouting,” Shinichi said over Yukiko's shoulder. “Kaa-san opened the door into my foot.”
“I apologized, though,” pouted Yukiko. She stood up and bowed to Heizo. “Thank you for taking care of him. He can be a handful when he wants to be.”
Heizo blinked. “You are Kudou Yukiko-san?” His permanent scowl faded a little. “Hattori Heizo,” he said, introducing himself. Though he stood there in his nightclothes, Heizo still possessed a commanding presence. “It's been my pleasure. Though I can't say I've had a guest like him before.”
Yukiko beamed. “He's one of a kind.”
“Kaa-san,” groaned Shinichi, his cheeks turning pink.
Yusaku managed to weave his way past the wheelchair and his wife. “I can only echo Yukiko. Thank you for taking care of him, Hattori-san.”
Heizo nodded. “I can only assume ya’re exhausted after your travels. Let me show you ta our guest room, an’ I can help ya with your bags.”
“Come on, Shin-chan. You need your sleep, too. It's the middle of the night, you know.” Yukiko grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, Heizo and Yusaku standing to the side.
“I'm not tired,” Shinichi protested through a yawn.
Yusaku chuckled, watching Yukiko cart Shinichi away. Once they had turned the corner, Yusaku turned to Heizo. “How long has he been awake?”
“Five days.” Heizo glanced at Yusaku. “He’s not the kind of person who likes being locked up, is he.”
“He locked himself in the library once for eleven days,” Yusaku said with a shrug, “but that was of his own accord. Yukiko and I generally keep our distance.”
Heizo grunted. Yusaku looked at him, unsure if it was a noise of laughter or discontent. “When Heiji was young, he went missing for three days. We found him two blocks over, trying to feed a stray cat. Said he'd been chasing it for a classmate of his.” Heizo paused, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “It was a raccoon.”
Yusaku smiled, shaking his head. “The things they do for a case.”
Heizo gave a chuckle of his own before gesturing down the hall. “Follow me. You can have the room on the ground floor. Kudou-kun isn't allowed to go up stairs anymore. Haibara-chan’s orders.”
Yusaku nodded knowingly. “She's a piece of work, that one.”
‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)—̳͟͞͞o
Eight encounters (read: battles) with Yukiko’s endless reserves of energy, five heavy suitcases, more than a dozen enigmatic statements from Yusaku, and one sleeping Shinichi later, Heizo finally trudged back up the stairs. Knowing his son, he murmured a 'go back to sleep’ as he went past Heiji’s room and shut off the hallway light. As softly as he could, Heizo tiptoed into the master bedroom and climbed into bed.
In the darkness, Shizuka rolled over as Heizo slid under the covers. “Who was it?” she asked with a yawn.
He smoothed the hair on her head. “Kudou-kun’s parents. His mother has more energy than he does.”
“Hmmm.” Shizuka didn't open her eyes, only leaning into Heizo's touch. “We'll have our hands full, won't we.”
He kissed the top of her head before planting a kiss on her lips. “That we will. Good night, Shizu.”
“Good night, Heizo.”
(⌐▨_・)ﾂθ☆●
Shinichi was not at all a morning person. So when someone came to wake him up before ten o'clock, he nearly bit their head off, his anger quelled only by a mug of coffee forced into his hands. Confused (but by no means disappointed), Shinichi sat up. His eyes too heavy to open, he simply listened to the bustle around him, sipping the liquid of the gods in his hands.
“Kaa-san, I'm goin’ out ta the cab,” Heiji shouted up the stairway, while Yusaku and Heizo chatted in the kitchen. A gingerbread scent emanated from the hand on Shinichi's shoulder, artificial but sweet nonetheless. It was Yukiko next to him, her smell oddly comforting, like coming home to a good book and a comfortable chair. “Wake up, Shin-chan. Hattori-san is going to the precinct office, and Yusaku and I are leaving this afternoon. We need to finish your new face before Shizuka-chan comes back.”
The coffee was a blessing. Even though she was never around, Yukiko knew exactly how Shinichi liked it— black with a dash of cinnamon. It woke him up enough to get him to crack his eyes open. Shizuka walked past Yukiko and into the kitchen, kissing Heizo goodbye. “I'll be back in a few hours. I'll get clothing for Kudou-kun while I'm out.”
“Thank you, Shizuka-chan.” Yukiko nodded her thanks as Shizuka walked past them again, smiling in response.
Once Shizuka had gone, Shinichi asked, “Why aren't you getting clothes for me? I'm not complaining, but it's not like you to turn down shopping for me.”
“Because,” Yusaku answered from the other room, “Yukiko would buy clothes that she would want to you would wear. Shizuka has a different sense of style for children, so she'll pick out your clothes. I gave her enough money for a few outfits when I asked,” he said to Heizo. Turning back to Shinichi, he continued, “Yukiko and I aren't supposed to be here. Everyone thinks we're still in America, convincing Conan-kun’s parents to let him come back to Japan.”
“I need to call Ran as Conan,” Shinichi said suddenly. “I told her I would make that happen.”
Yukiko shook her head. “Not today. You're busy becoming someone else. And we have the perfect identity for you. Once you finish that coffee, come down the hall. I'm going to get everything set up.”
She stood, taking her hand from his shoulder and her gingerbread smell from the air around him. Shinichi finished his coffee slowly, savoring every last drop.
(⌐▨_・)ﾂθ☆●
With one last scrutinizing look, Yukiko nodded at her handiwork. “I think that's good enough.” She spun Shinichi around in the swivel chair, letting him get a look at his new face. “What do you think?”
Shinichi looked over the different curves and lines she'd created on his face, memorizing exactly how his face had been changed. “I can recreate it,” he started, “though I'm not sure how it’ll go over in public.”
His hair, now nearly as blonde as Hakuba Saguru’s, had grown over his ears thanks to the latest transformation. Yukiko shaped it in a way Conan wouldn't dare to wear around school, keeping it long in the front to shield his eyes, shaving the back of his neck to give the new persona more of an angsty-teen feel. A fake piercing on his left ear, a birthmark toned into his wrist, and a scar on the side of each knee completely set apart the new persona from Conan (if the different face wasn't enough). The boy in the mirror had a taller face, bigger nose, and somehow wider eyes than Conan or Shinichi.
From the bed, Yusaku spoke up. “Remember, it's your presence that determines how people will view you.”
“If anyone asks, you're in the witness protection program. And if people really want to dig, you're a boy that our friend, Kuroba Chikage, took in while she lived in Las Vegas. She's got a boy about your real age, you know. You and Kai-chan would get along so well! I should set up a playdate sometime!” squealed Yukiko.
“Kaa-san, no.” Shinichi held up one finger. “First of all, he's my real age. I'm normally six years old. Unless we tell him Conan is actually sixteen and tracking down a crime syndicate, he will have no reason to want to hang around me. And no, I will not involve a civilian for no reason other than to satisfy your fantasies.” He put up a second finger. “But seriously, a playdate?” He gave her a flat look. “I haven't had one of those since I was actually six.”
Yukiko pouted, but only for a moment. “What name should we give you? You can keep Chika-chan’s name or come up with your own.”
“I look American, so I should have an American name.” Shinichi fingered a lock of dark blonde hair. “I'm thinking… John.”
“After Doctor John Watson? Or John Doe?” Yusaku asked, turning another page in his book.
“Watson,” Shinichi admitted. “I'll use Baker for a family name.”
“John is a very mature name...May I suggest Johnny? It will make you seem younger.”
“I'll take it,” Shinichi said, looking at the stranger in the mirror. “Johnny Baker,” he murmured in English. “I'll keep talking to a minimum, since I've got an accent.”
“And when you come across a case, get Hattori-san,” Yukiko told him. “Johnny isn't a prodigy. At best he's an amateur magician.”
Shinichi looked back over his shoulder. “A magician? Why a magician?”
Yukiko smiled like it was obvious. “Chika-chan and all her family are magicians. You're going to have to brush up on your card tricks, Johnny-chan.”
Shinichi groaned. “I tried it once to beat that thief— fight fire with fire— and that was hard enough. This Kuroba family is giving me more trouble than it's worth.”
To his luck (and supposedly a certain Kaitou’s as well), Shinichi completely missed the look of barely-concealed amusement that passed between his parents.
Yukiko opened her mouth to speak. Yusaku didn't even have to look up from his book. “Yukiko, not a word.”