once again, I regret not leaving chapters untitled
It's more of a literal title. Empty talk is like talking without saying anything, and Akai's always thinking about Gin (in a I wanna kill that dude kinda way)
(⌐▨_・)ﾂθ☆●
It wasn't that surprising how similar the Osaka offices were to the headquarters back in Tokyo, Shinichi mused silently. The same variety of officers crowded around the water cooler every half an hour or so, and the din of ringing phones and shuffling papers persisted throughout the entire floor Shinichi-- rather, Johnny Baker-- hid in.
Hid being a relative word, as he sat in the corner of the room, keeping his head down and his mouth shut. Heizo was supposed to be watching him today, but Heizo wanted little to do with the freeloader who'd brought his son into a deadly investigation. As soon as the two of them arrived at the prefectural headquarters, Heizo dropped Shinichi off at the main office and promptly vanished.
A few officers tried to question him, asking things like are you okay, where are your parents, and are you looking for someone. Shinichi dodged their questions with a few shrugs and a low, angry, “Hattori-san brought me here.” He didn't like throwing his weight around like he used to, but it was nice to simply mention a name and be left alone.
While it was soothing to be back in his element, surrounded by other people who had the same interests, Shinichi quickly realized how dangerous it was. He heard one officer ask another about post-mortem bruising, and he’d begun to answer before he realized he should keep his mouth shut. When the pair of officers gave him an odd glance, Shinichi looked away, embarrassed. Johnny wasn't smart like Shinichi. He was a magician, not a detective.
Taking a pack of cards from his pocket, he started shuffling them together. His mother showed him three card tricks and four shuffling techniques before she had to leave, and he needed more practice if he was to act the part. Who knew how long it would take Haibara to finish that antidote? I could look into that woman who supposedly adopted me,he thought as he attempted to bridge the cards. Kuroba Chikage. I'll be like this for more than a week if Haibara doesn't come up with anything soon, and I don't think Hattori-san wants me around at all.
When he tried breaking the bridge, cards spilled all over his lap. Grumbling, he collected the cards again, his hands shaking with the effort. And this weakness better not stick around. Retraining my muscles was hard enough the first time.
He rested his hands for a few moments before he tried again, this time with a little more success. He grinned, and an officer next to the water cooler nudged his partner standing next to him. “See that? The kid can smile.”
“He doesn't need a peanut gallery, Enomoto,” Ida chided. “If he wanted attention, he wouldn't sit in the corner of the room.”
“But I wonder why Hattori-san brought him here. He always left Heiji-kun with Speedy-san an’ Kazuha-chan,” Enomoto said, draped across the cooler, watching as the blonde boy shuffled the cards smoothly again. “Do ya think he's a witness?”
Ida whacked Enomoto's arm. “Leave the kid be. Whatever he’s here for, I'm sure he's been through enough. He doesn't need rumors ‘bout him spreading, I'm sure.”
Pouting, Enomoto tossed his paper cup into the trash. “Fine. By the way, I sent ya the report. Ya saw how they closed the Hayashi case.”
“A suicide.” Ida nodded. “We're not supposed ta talk ‘bout it,” he added quietly. “Ya know Fujita-san? She brought it up with Hattori-san, an’ he sent her to work in Tokyo for a few weeks.”
“I'll bet ya it was one of the victim's families,” said Enomoto in a hushed voice. “They were tired of all this questioning, so they fought ta get the case closed with every bit of green they had.”
“You with all these speculations.” Ida finally threw out his cup, too. “What are ya, a teenage girl? Come on, we have work ta do.”
“Hai, hai.” He obediently followed his partner back to their desks.
After finishing a riffle shuffle, Shinichi picked out the face cards to practice one of the tricks. He heard about the Hayashi case from Hattori, though there was little more he could do than speculate. What made Hayashi so special that one of Them would go out of Their way both to kill her and two of her victims?
What else has provoked Them to get involved with the police? He stashed the cards he didn't need back in the box. Vermouth stole files on all of occhan's cases, and Irish took the Superintendent's place to get a data card that had information They needed. Bourbon doesn't count, since he's a double agent. He frowned. Besides, They've never done anything this loud before. Not for a serial killer.
Maybe she was a candidate, he thought. They tried recruiting a serial killer before. Numabuchi Kiichiro was too unstable, but Hayashi's file indicated she wasn't insane. She was a little deranged, but she interacted well enough with those around her. Maybe They wanted to make her one of Them? As a last resort assassin or something. Her killing techniques were too flashy if they wanted to dispose of someone quietly.
Not to recruit. Then she was a target. But why? He mixed up the face cards methodically, prepping for the trick. They went to great lengths to get Kir back. Maybe one of Hayashi's victims was a member. A man in Black led two people from the scene, her two friends from college. They might have been members.
Reshuffling the face cards, he dealt them out for the trick. Saving them from being interrogated by killing them first. He scowled at the thought. None of the other possibilities reflect their past actions. If the offender dies, then there's no one to convict except accomplices. So by killing Hayashi and ending all charges, They kept a full investigation from happening. The victims who were still alive might have had gone through the system, but with Hayashi gone, the only thing left for the police to do was sign the death certificate. A suicide burns away any loose ends.
Except for one.
Confidently, Shinichi flipped over the top card of each pile, revealing a king on the top of each stack. Me. I know Their tricks, I know how to follow Them. They let Themselves be seen and now I know They were here.
(But they killed anyone you might question, and you have nothing to go off of. Not even Haibara can know what random member was assigned to here. You have no clues, meitantei. You have nothing except for fading footprints in the sand, already swept away by the wind.)
And for all the bravado he could muster, he couldn't deny the little voice in his head. No steps forward, two steps back. Following a trail of bodies only led him to danger, and most of those bodies were already in the morgue.
On the other hand, one thing was undeniable. That singular member was sloppy, and now the entire police force had been tipped off to a traitor in their midst. According to Hattori, rumors had been floating across three prefectures since Hayashi escaped from her prison transit. With more evidence that someone was pulling strings from the background, They might become more paranoid.
And paranoia leads to impaired judgement,Shinichi thought grimly (hopefully) (two hundred percent not speaking from experience).
As he collected the cards together again, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He packed away the cards and checked his phone: incoming call from Mouri Ran. He looked around the office. Too many policemen wandered around the room, too many for him to hide and use his bowtie to talk to her. He needed another place to talk. Groaning, Shinichi swiped to ignore the call. Before Ran could call again, he sent her a quick text (not the best time, I'll call you back in just a minute) and started towards the door.
In short, it was a disaster.
(Shinichi swore he would never use a wheelchair again.)
He tried to maneuver around the chairs and desks, ramming into every other one he passed. He slowly inched towards the door, jostled left and right as he tried to weave between the desks and people. An onlooker would be able to map out his path just by picking out which officers had their toes run over by the strange blonde boy. Helplessly, Shinichi ran into one person after another, his frustration growing with each passing moment. He needed to talk to Ran, but thisstupid wheelchair was too big to get around. He was convinced the only reason he got to the back of the room in the first place was because of Heizo's authority— when Heizo walked, people got out of his way like their jobs depended on it.
Too many apologies and internal groans later, one officer finally spoke up. “Pardon me,” he said loudly from behind Shinichi, “but what are ya doin’ there, young man?”
A hush fell across the room. Shinichi was effectively in the center of the room— and thanks to this officer, he was now the center of attention. Shinichi cringed. “I need to go to the hallway,” he said quietly. The officer's voice was familiar, like from a forgotten memory.
“Ya're havin’ a bit of trouble gettin’ out, aren't ya.” the officer walked closer, and Shinichi heard the shuffle of multiple pairs of shoes. Just as with Heizo, it seemed that people wanted out of this man's way.
“Yes, sir.”
The officer gripped the handles of the wheelchair, and Shinichi looked back to see an imposing figure at his back. “Please forgive our rudeness. We apologize for not helpin’ sooner,” said Toyama Ginshiro, with a pointed glare at a few of the officers. “I canassure ya it won't happen again.”
A few apologies floated up from the crowd. “Now back to work,” he barked. “And when this young man comes through, make room!”
The officers responded in unison. “Hai!”
Shinichi ducked his head as Toyama pushed him from the room. He couldn't say he wasn't grateful. His arms began to get tired on top of his running into everything, so Toyama pushing him was a welcome mercy. On the other hand, Shinichi was pretty sure Toyama hated him, too. After all, Kazuha said her dad wanted nothing to do with him as soon as he learned the truth.
To be honest? Shinichi didn't want to be around Toyama, either. He didn't know what the man wanted, and he wasn't sure how to act. It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember anything of his previous interaction with Toyama. Was it civil, interrogative, strained, or did they not speak at all? Shinichi couldn’t very well call Hattori to ask at this point, not with Toyama so close. He was grateful for the disguise he wore. Neither Shinichi nor Conan had to deal with the complications that came with a dual identity, both hiding behind Johnny's lackluster appearance and long hair.
“Here ya go, young man.” Toyama brought him into the hallway, pushing him off to the side. “Where did ya say ya need ta go?”
Shinichi coughed. “Just a bit of privacy, sir. My friend wanted me to call him.”
“I thought Heiji-kun was in school.”
Oh crap. Play dumb play dumb play dumb-- “Sir? Hattori-san’s son is way older than me.” Shinichi coughed again, that little tickle in the back of his throat getting worse.
Toyama leaned down to Shinichi's height. “When ya're this height,” whispered Toyama. “Now, what name are ya usin’ for now?” All smiles, he looked at Shinichi as though he'd just asked what his favorite color was.
Shinichi dropped the facade like a hot iron, realizing the disguise did little against Toyama. “Johnny Baker,” he relented.
Toyama nodded. “Who do ya actually need ta talk to?”
D***. He wished he‘d never come to Osaka. “Ran," he admitted reluctantly. "Do you know a quiet place where I can talk to her?”
Toyama nodded. “My office should work nicely. I'll take ya there.” He pushed Shinichi down the hall.
“Thank you, sir.” Another string of coughs erupted from his throat. “And, er— I'm sorry for involving Kazuha-chan.”
Toyama sighed. “Young man, it was as much her choice to learn the whole truth as it was mine to stay out of it. If I could, I would keep her out of it, too. But she cares too much about Heiji-kun and too much about you to leave the two of you to your own devices.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A group of officers walked by, and Toyama leaned down, spoke softly. “Oh, and Shinichi-kun?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I don't want any part in this game of death ya've found yerself in. I will do everythin’ in my power to keep Kazuha out of it, as well.”
Shinichi wilted a little.”I understand. Many have died, sir, and I see no point in denying that fact.” Akemi's blood on his hands, marking him as her killer because he should have seen it sooner, he should have never let her out of his sight, Irish sacrificing himself for the empty life of a boy supposed to be dead, Haibara screaming at him why couldn't you save my sister, too, Gin looking down upon him as though he was an insect as his bones burned him from the inside out.
“That doesn't mean our door isn't open ta ya and yer family.”
Snapped from his thoughts, Shinichi shook his head at Toyama. “Sir, my parents are in America.”
Toyama laughed. “You know exactly what I mean.” Having reached his office, Toyama held the door open for Shinichi. ”I'll be outside when you're ready to go back.”
“Thank you, sir.” Shinichi rolled himself inside, and Toyama, closing the door, left him to his thoughts.
The boy in question shook his head to clear his mind. Now, for Ran. He speed-dialed her, and in an instant she picked up.
Twirling the dials on the bowtie to his voice setting, he spoke before she could. “I'm sorry, I know I said I would answer. What's wong? Is everyone okay?”
Ran laughed, a light, angelic sound. “Shinichi, everyone's fine. It's noon on a Saturday. Study session, remember? We have to make up from last week.”
“Oh.”
“You forgot again, didn't you.”
“You know me.” He winced with a small smile. “I'm not at home right now—”
“You're never home,” she teased.
“Ran,” he groaned while she giggled, “you know what I mean. I don't have my notes with me. Can we do it later?”
“I guess. Sonoko isn't here, but she might be up to studying tomorrow. She wasn't in class this week. It's sort of like we swapped places. I missed class last week because we were looking for Conan,” she explained.
Shinichi felt another twinge of guilt. “Sorry. I should have been there to help.”
“We've been over this. You were sick.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Be quiet and accept my forgiveness, you idiot,” she said fondly.
Shinichi sighed. “Have I ever told you how much I don't deserve you?”
Taking on a more serious tone, she said,“Well, if you really want to make it up to me…”
“What is it?” He asked a little too quickly. The card tricks may have been a nice distraction, but he hadn't had a real case in the week he'd been awake.
“Will you check up on Sonoko? I'm actually worried about her. She's been skipping school. She asked me to say she’s staying with me, but I don’t actually know where she is. I thought she was with Kyogoku-san, but he says she was at home.”
Cautiously, he asked, “You two aren't fighting, are you?”
“I don't think so. I was out of it after the bombing, so maybe I said something wrong, but you know Sonoko. If she has a problem with someone—”
“—she lets them know. Oh, I know. She's told me plenty of times how much she hates what I’ve—” been doing to you was left unsaid. Shinichi broke off. No, Ran didn't need to hear that.
If Ran noticed, she didn't say so. “The rumors are getting worse. Everyone is saying you're dead. I'm worried she's started believing them.”
Shinichi snorted. “Of course I'm not dead.”
“Shinichi.” He flinched at the ice in her voice, the cold sadness. “You've been gone almost a year. You don't know how easy it is to forget that you're alive.”
“Sorry.”
She softened. “You’re a detective, but you're no mind reader. Just call Sonoko, okay?”
“Okay.”
“That's all I've got,” she said. “Now it's your turn. What secret is it today?”
Shinichi brightened. “I've been wanting to tell you. I'm not working alone. Other people are helping me. And there are grownups involved. It's not just me fighting these guys all alone. After what I told you last time, I just thought… you'd like to know I have help. I know you can get really worried about other people sometimes, and I…” He gulped. “I don't want you to worry about me,” he almost whispered.
“Aw, you're sweet,” she teased.
He went beet red. “Ran,” he complained, but it was all in jest. Regaining himself, he asked, “Can I call you later? To ask about Sonoko.”
“Hmm. To-san was invited to a cheese tasting, and I'm going with him. Around seven is best.”
“Thanks, Ran.”
“You're welcome, Shinichi.” She paused. “I love you.”
His heart skipped a beat, but he wasted no time in replying. “I love you, too, Ran.”
“Bye.”
“G'bye.”
And soon, I'll see you everyday. Shinichi hung up, a smile spreading across his lips.
Suddenly, his grin faltered, a lump steadily growing in his throat. I'll see her as Conan. When Haibara finishes that neutralizer, I go back to being Conan. I go back to lying to Ran every day. Sugary-sweet laughs, high-pitched excuses, stammering explanations. Kiddie homework and kiddie problems, cat cases and lost shoes coupled with zero respect from adults and drugging the very man who kept him dressed and fed drained away his last drop of joy and stirred a loathing deep within himself.
“I hate being Conan,” he spat. “It's nothing but lies. I don't deserve Ran. It's been a year and I've done nothing for her. She gives so much and all I can give her is a phone call.”
“If this was the only way,” says Haibara apathetically, holding a bouquet of flowers, the gun lying empty on the hospital bed, “I would not hesitate. Do you see?”
Weeks earlier, Haibara stares at him intently, leaning heavily on her crutch. “You see now why she can never know. If you tell her, she will be in danger. Everyone you care about will die.”
Like a hot knife, guilt stabbed at his chest, clashing painfully with the yearning that sat there to create a piercing pain worse than any transformation. He clutched at his chest. You can’t get close to her anymore. No more. You forgot just what happens when someone gets too close. Ran’s life isn’t worth it. Nothing is worth more than her, least of all me.