Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This wasn't part of the plan.

Nope.

They hadn’t exactly accounted for the fact that the murderer would chase them all the way into the woods. With a blood thirsty woman with a sashimi knife chasing after them, their only option really, was to scatter into the forest. With the sun setting into night, they could only hope to lose her in the darkness and wait it out until the police arrive.

“A-Ayumi! Don’t stop running!” Mitsuhiko had yelled out to her as she slowed to a stop but was instantly grabbed by him to keep her going. Any moment and the murderer would easily catch up to them. If he could, he would have knocked her out with his Soccer ball or his Tranquillizer watch, but fate decided to once again screw him over. Having sent his shoes and watch in for maintenance with Agasa, he was as defenseless as any regular seven year old would be against a murderer with a knife.

“Over there! There’s a warehouse up that hill! We can hide there until the police save us!” In any other situation, that would be a wise decision, but going by the fact that the woman was right on their tails, they’d only end up as sitting ducks. He had to stop them, but it had already been too late when Genta dashed ahead to check it out.

Ayumi called out to him when he paused to look behind them as they all piled into what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. No time to reroute, they’d have to gamble on their luck now. The warehouse was extremely decrepit with its paint having shed long ago to allow rust to form over time. It had many crates and sacks for them to hide in, making it more difficult for the murderer to find them.

“Everyone! In here!” Mitsuhiko hissed at them as he crawled into a crate hidden in the underside of the stairwell. It all felt so familiar to him. The staircase, the metallic stench of rust that just reminded him so much of blood, and the same fear of having his life on the line once again. Deja Vu, as many would call it, would be the best explanation as to what he was feeling right now. Only that, he’s pretty sure he’s been here before. As though he dug his own grave here.

Fuck it. They needed to hide anyways might as well be in a warehouse than out in the open with snakes and spiders. As long as that woman doesn’t follow them or find out where they are hiding then they’d probably be safe for now. One could only hope. They had climbed into the crate with Ayumi and Mitsuhiko being shielded by him and Genta, ready to charge at the culprit should she find them.

He could hear the heavy breathing of the others trying to catch their breaths in such a small enclosed space. He felt sweaty and being surrounded by other sources of heat was not helping at all, especially with the fact that they were practically breathing down each other's neck. Once they get out, he's definitely treating the kids to ice-cream later. If they get out that is. He ignored that small thought. He had to remain optimistic, if not for himself, then for the kids.

creak.

The gates to the warehouse swung on it's rusty hinges.

click. clack. click.

Heels click against the concrete floor. They had only managed to outrun her because she made the wrong choice of footwear.

clack. click. clack.

The sound got louder. Their deaths came closer.

thud. 

He wanted out. He NEEDS to get out. Get out. Get out. GET OUT. LETMEOUT-

The footsteps came to a stop.

He could hear Ayumi's whimper, Mitsuhiko's sharp inhale, Genta's fist tightening. He could almost hear his own screams, screams from his past. No wonder this warehouse felt so familiar. He could feel his control slipping. That same feeling five years ago. The horrible feeling of fear for death. 

oh but it wasn't his death he was afraid of.

He nudged Genta to move even further behind him. "Protect them." he whispered to their strongest member. If anyone was brave enough to stop a murderer, it'd be Genta. He shifted himself into a crouch as the woman started slamming open the surrounding crates. It was only moments until they would be exposed. Genta turned towards the others, with his back faced towards the opening, holding them closer to him.

slam. Another crate

crack. Another cargo

thud. Another chance.

As the sounds got closer and closer, the detective boys shut their eyes closed tight. They were only kids at the end of the day. 

The plank covering the crate shifted.

He lunged forward.

Chapter Text

He slammed directly into the woman, knocking her weapon off her hands at the same time. She yelled in surprise, having expected yet another empty crate. Holding her down with his own weight, he attempted to call out to the rest to help secure her, only to get a harsh kick to his stomach, flinging him off like a potato sack. Falling to the ground, he tried to recover from the heavy blow, only to get struck once again to his side by the crazed woman. 

By the time he looked back up, she had already retrieved the knife and was stalking forwards towards him. The burning in his side did not help at all when he tried to shift further away from her. Once the woman was done with him, it was no doubt that she would go after the kids. He had to do something. But his body disagreed with him.

Move.

He needed to move.

Move goddamnit.

MOVE.

Black particles flooded out from his skin like a swarm of bees leaving its hive. His eyes widened, he didn't mean to release it. But at least he now had a one-up against the assailant.

"IBM". Also known as "Invisible Black Matter". Normal humans are unable to see it, but that doesn't necessarily make it useless to him. It was one of his weapons in his hidden arsenal. Yes, this black matter could take shape as well, forming something like a humanoid ghost. It is sentient, with a mind of it's own, and can and will interact with physical objects.

The humanoid figure stood tall in front of him like a knight to the rescue. Only that this knight was a homicidal overprotective guard dog that acts in what it thinks is best. It had no face, only a lanky figure that one might compare to Slenderman. Yikes. It's arm reached downwards towards him, landing directly on his head as it repeated it's motion. He really needs to train it to stop treating him like this.

The ghost turned towards the woman who was only a few steps away from them, locking in on her like a hawk targeting its prey. As she raised her knife, ready to strike him down, it reached forward and grabbed her by the throat, and started choking her.

The ghost raised it's arms higher, letting the woman's feet to be dangled as she struggled, wiggling and clawing at the invisible force that held her hostage of her life. Tears leaked out from her eyes as she started gasping for air, her movements slowed with only pathetic attempts to free herself. And as she took a last glimpse at the world, all she saw was the shadow of a monster.

Obviously he wasn't about to let her die.

"Release." a simple command, yet so effective. Her body flopped down to the ground like a lifeless puppet with it's strings cut. He cringed at the loud thud as the body dropped. He meant to release her softer to prevent any more injuries. Rushing to take her pulse, he sighed in relief to find the weak thumping of her heart by her wrist. The ghost had once again returned to his side like a loyal puppy awaiting it's next command.

"C-conan? Are you okay?" He would have forgotten about the kids hiding in the crate if not for Mitsuhiko's concern. He's lucky it was dark enough that the kids could not see the grip marks on the woman's neck that would lead to more questions. "We heard some noises and thought it was you..." Ayumi had tears running down her face as she hiccupped, gasping for air between her tears. Her fears were confirmed false but that still did not help the despair she must have felt.

"Let's tell Takagi that we're alright." As much as he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, he needed to contact the detectives to collect their criminal on hand. "Genta, help me find some good rope." Occupying the kids with task would help take the fear off their mind, but he would definitely need to calm them down later with some much deserved ice-cream. "Mitsuhiko, make sure she doesn't wake up. Ayumi, use your flashlight at the entrance to signal the police."

As Genta passed him the rope, he started binding the woman's arms up as secure as possible without hurting her any further. He stared down at her, eyes trailing to her neck where it burned with red and purple. "Thank's Genta, stick with Ayumi at the entrance. I'll stay with Mitsuhiko." he was glad that Genta had learned over the years that cooperation is better than acting out on his own and refusing others. Especially not when he knew that Ayumi would want a friend to stick with in the dark. He really was proud of all three of them.

"Conan, the noises...the screeching...what happened to the culprit?" The question he was already dreading to settle with the detectives and more especially with the kids who heard everything. He knows that even if he stirs up a storyline so realistic, those bruises would beg to differ a different answer. Mitsuhiko stared at him with eyes so full of concern and curiousity. His only fear would be for those eyes to stare at him in terror.

"Detective Takagi! Inspector Megure!" faint voices of Ayumi and Genta came from outside.

The police were here and questions could wait until then. "Kids!" guess that Agasa and Haibara had came to pick them up as well. For now, they were safe.

Chapter Text

"Okay then, what were you kids doing before she started chasing you all into the forest?" Takagi was in charge of taking their statements as always. It was him whom they were most familiar with, after many times of sneaking into his car, following him to an active investigation, and moreover just hanging out with him. He always had a soft spot for the kids and would always fold and go along to whatever plan they had in mind involving him.

"After Conan solved the case, we decided to confront Mariko-san afterwards." Mitsuhiko responded. "At first we didn't tell Conan because we wanted to be the ones to turn her in, but Conan still found out and got mad because we didn't have any adult with us to arrest her." He held his head in shame at realising their childish error. They had put themselves in danger and with conan not being able to defend them without his shoes and watch, they ultimately underestimated the culprit's malice.

"Mariko-san pulled out a knife from her purse and started chasing us from the estate into the forest." Ayumi added on "A-ayumi thought that she would stop following us...but she kept going!" tears started falling from her eyes as she covered her face with her hands. Haibara moved to hold her, comforting her with soft hushes and understanding, she wanted so badly to slap the shit out of that woman, but someone had already did it for her.

Her eyes trailed over to Kudo who was very oddly, standing away from the group of detectives. It was very out of character of him to not be taking over the kids by giving his statement instead to save them from the everlasting questions. Him who would usually be interacting with Takagi but instead chose to sulk by the professor's mustard yellow car. Something was definitely wrong and her curiousity was getting the best of her. She moved towards him.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So what happened? Why are you sulking like a wet cat? Usually you'd be more smug after it."

"Nothing happened. Just the usual 'ex-girlfriend misunderstanding that leads to death' sort of case. The kids got frightened because I wasn't able to take her down and had to run for their lives."

Mariko had killed her girlfriend over a misunderstanding that she was only exploiting her for her money and that she was cheating behind her back, when in reality she was just trying to save up more money to get her a new dress for their anniversary. It was rather depressing but a common reoccurrence for the detective boys to come across.

"That's not what I mean Kudo. I was asking what's gotten you in such a foul mood. Did something happe-"

"And I'm telling you, nothing happened."

Jeez there was no need to get riled up. She took one last glance at him and decided not to press anymore. Its not like he's the only person he could ask about. She looked around for Mitsuhiko, If she can't get answers from him, then surely their most perspective of them could help her out.

"Tsuburaya, what happened in the warehouse? Why's Edogawa sulking like that?" 

"Uhmm..The truth is...I'm not sure either...After we hid, Conan told Genta to protect us and went on the confront the culprit. We weren't able to see exactly what happened..."

"Ah, I see..."

"Oh! But we heard some..uh..noises..."

"Noises? Of what?"

"We heard these screeching sounds and someone coughing...But it wasn't Conan! So it's probably the culprit! It sounded like she was in pain, and later, we found her passed out in front of Conan!"

Now that was weird. There was no way for him to knock her out without his equipment, and yet he managed to accomplish such against someone armed and stronger, as well as in an environment against his advantage. She would simply have to investigate the culprit as well.

Making her way to the ambulance on duty, she caught a glimpse of the still unconscious woman lying on the stretcher. The EMT, Emergency Medical Technician, was currently tending the the bruises on her neck. Haibara watched and waited until the EMT finally moved away to check on the kids, to which she swiftly pulled out her phone and took a picture of her injuries.

There were bruises around the woman's entire neck, painting it in purple and blue. It wasn't thin enough to be made by a rope, nor was it small enough to fit the hands of a child. Although she was pretty sure, even he wouldn't resort to this level of violence. The woman's face scrunched up in pain, she was already waking up. Haibara decided it was best to leave before being spotted, having seen the EMT walking back towards the ambulance with Kudo right behind them, guess that he must have hurt himself along the way. 

She wasn't expecting the woman to wake up so suddenly and start hyperventilating. The EMTs rushed towards her trying to calm her down, only leading her to panic even more. She was looking around wildly, like a deer caught in a bear trap. The EMT tried to restrain her, holding her arms down to stop her from scratching at her bruises more as she reached up as though something was choking her once again.

That's when she locked eyes with Kudo.

She started screaming bloody murder as though he'd just killed someone in front of her. Ironic, considering the fact that she was just about to kill him a thirty minutes ago.

"NO! STAY AWAY! MONSTER! DEMON! WHAT DID YOU DO?! DEMON SPAWN! GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAY-"

Well that's rude. She knows that he might be a bit of a curse of death but even that's going too far. Glancing over to where Kudo stood with the now concerned Takagi, she was curious as to why he stood there with no reaction at all, as though he had already expected this to happen. The kids cowered in fear, hiding behind the professor and inspector, wincing at the woman screaming in hysteria.

"Sedate her! Quickly!"

"Yes!"

'Lay her down gently!"

The EMTs were fast to react and sedated her to keep her from passing out in fear from lack of oxygen. She's always been amazed by EMTs, they were miracle workers, being able to respond well in emergencies and keeping level headed.

Turning back towards Kudo, Takagi started panicking over him, hoping that he did not hear all those nasty things she called him. Kudo simply raised his arms up, trying to tell him to calm down and that he was okay. Although, she really was curious as to why the woman had reacted like that. Most culprits just sulk in being caught by a seven year old child, this one went insane apparantly. They might wanna check her for inhalant abuse.

It had already turned close to midnight by the time the police were done with their investigation. After a long reprimanding, it was time to bring the kids home. Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta all sat in the back seat, strapped up and fast asleep from exhaustion. Conan sat behind while Haibara in the front passenger seat. They drove through the empty streets as street lights seem to blur past them, flashing through their windows along the way.

"Kudo. Answer my question for real. What happened with the culprit?"

He sighed. "Drop it, Haibara."

"No. Clearly something happened to her, else there wouldn't be an ambulance. And with the police investigating those bruises, you'd end up only under more suspicion."

"What bruises- Haibara! You snuck into the ambulance?!" He hissed out, trying not to yell, not to disturb the kids.

"Those were strangulation marks. There was no one else there who could possibly do that to that woman, so what aren't you telling me." She whisper-hissed back at him.

"No. Just forget about it." She could hear the slight tremble in his voice, almost seeing his fear through the rearview mirror.

As she turned to look back out the window, she couldn't help but feel as though more of these incidents would start to occur around them. Strange supernatural things that would always revolve around their certain shrunken detective. One can only expect for the worst.

Chapter Text

"Good Morning!" Kids greeted each other as they strolled into their classrooms. The Detective Boys of class 1B were all crowded around Conan and Haibara's table, chatting about what happened last night.

"Aw man, when I got home, my sis got so mad at me. She was all red in the face about how much I worried our parents. She even told me to stop hanging out with you guys!" Mitsuhiko sighed into his palm as he rested his head against it.

"Ayumi too! Mama and Papa said not to play with you all anymore! Mama was even crying! I've never seen her cry before..." Ayumi hung her head in shame. She knew that it was wrong to worry her parents, but they were her friends and she couldn't just leave them!

"Me too...Dad was yelling at me, saying that I'm putting myself at risk, how he doesn't want to say goodbye to me in the morning and never hear from me again..." Genta added on. He didn't mean to make his dad worry, he just wanted to be a detective solving crimes.

Haibara nodded at them all. Their parents were right to scold them indeed, but even said parents barely look out for those kids. They spend almost every afterschool hour and every weekend with each other, staying over at Agasa's even during the holidays when they should be out with their parents instead.

"Conan! What did Uncle Mouri say about our detective group? Does he want you to quit as well?! Please don't quit! We need you!" 

Truth be told, Occhan barely gives a shit about what he does most of the time. Ran's the one that gets more concerned over his wellbeing, and only ever forcing Kogoro to take action when he's been seriously injured or causing trouble for the police. Otherwise, when he'd get back, he'd only just eat dinner and go to bed.

"m-mhM! He said to be more careful." an obvious lie. 

"At least we can still hang out then!"

"Yeah! Let's solve more mysteries!"

"You guys. Even though we are able to solve cases, that doesn't mean we can arrest them ourselves. Even with five of us together, an adult could easily overpower us with a weapon of any choice, be it a gun or a knife. Don't forget about what happened yesterday. The culprit won't always just fall over or give up fighting back when they still have a chance of escape.

Although dampening the mood, it was really important that the kids learn from their mistakes and to never repeat them again. If they had apprehended the criminal without Kudo present there, they might not be here today. Speaking of Kudo, he was acting better than yesterday. She'd guess that he was sulking about being unable to protect the kids properly, but that doesn't seem to be the case either ways.

"Alright class! Everyone settle down and stand to greet!" the group dispersed as their class representative commanded them.

"Tsuburaya, may I speak to you for a moment?" Recess was about to end in ten minutes, but that was enough time she needed. After their meal, Kudo had decided to leave to walk about the school halls and visit the restroom, giving her plenty of time to investigate.

"What is it Haibara?"

"Those sounds you said you heard, don't you find them strange? You said there were screeching noises? What kind? Was it from the woman? Or was it from an object?"

"W-well it was definitely from the woman. And yea, Its really weird..."

"What about is weird?"

"Conan didn't seem to make any sound. Like, if the woman was to fight back against him, we would at least here him yelling or moving. But it was like someone else was fighting than him...nevermind, that's just strange since no one else was there. And what's more, I wonder why she called Conan a monster..."

Mitsuhiko slumped back into his chair. Although he was pretty sure there wasn't anyone else there, he just wasn't sure how Conan could possibly manage against that crazed woman.

"Then, let's go back to the warehouse. We can try to find leftover traces from yesterday. Tsuburaya be sure to call your paren-"

"Not fair! Let us go too!"

Turns out Ayumi and Genta were right behind the both of them. Having listened in and wanting to join in on their investigation.

"Alright, let's go afterschool. We'll all go in different directions and regroup back at the train station at 2pm. Make sure Edogawa isn't following."

"Got it!"

"Okay."

"Roger!"

The kids scattered back into their seats as the lunch bell rang, signaling their next lesson to begin. Conan strolled back in right on the dot of their break. Opening her bag, she made sure she had her gloves, ziplock bags, wrist watch, and her pocket knife in them. Too many times of being caught in a case right after school has taught her well enough to be prepared.

"Did I miss something?" Kudo asked her, guess he must have noticed their scattering act.

"Nope. Other than the fact that your fly is down."

"My wha- HAIBARA! IT IS NOT! I'M NOT EVEN WEARIN-"

"Quiet. Class is starting."

"Are we walking home today?" Conan asked the detective boys. They had been acting weird ever since recess ended. He hoped it was nothing serious.

"A-Ayumi needs to run an errand! See you later!" and sprinted off.

"Me too! I need to get some uhhh.. sOMe eggs! Yes! Eggs!" and Genta ran in the opposite direction.

"I'm gonna stop by the Library! Bye bye! See you tomorrow!" 

"Then, Haibara. What about you?"

"There's a new dress featured at beika shopping centre. I'm thinking of getting it for our dear Yoshida for her birthday." and she left too.

Weird. Well, he needed to get back to the detective agency soon. Ran wanted him back early to look after the house as she had to get groceries. And with occhan out on an adultery case, he'd probably come back drunk and need his help up the stairs again. Kicking a pebble on the street, he could only walk silently alone back to the shophouse. Maybe he could pester Amuro-san at poirot's cafe. Get a slice of lemon cake while he's there.

Wasn't Ayumi's birthday two months ago?

(note: Haibara's POV)

"Put on these gloves before entering, and watch your steps, make sure you don't destroy any traces before we discover them." Haibara said as she distributed the gloves from her school bag. "If there is any evidence you want to collect, put them in a ziplock bag."

The group of four had arrived at the warehouse within an hour or so, and were getting ready to begin their search. With the sun still high in the sky, it made the warehouse feel less threatening than it was last night. They had a clear view of just how large the warehouse looked in the day. It had two floors, making them decide to split up to expand their search and cover more space in less time.

The group split up into two. Mitsuhiko and Ayumi on the first floor, then Haibara and Genta on the second floor. 

"We'll cover last night's hiding area. I'm sure we might find some footprints or unsettled dust from someone else than us and the culprit!" He announced their plan, Ayumi nodding along.

"Then we'll settle the remaining upstairs. Use the badges or scream if you need any help." Haibara settled her school bag among the pile of bags at the entrance of the warehouse.

"Okay! Then let the search begin!" If only Genta's enthusiasm was contagious, she'd be smiling along. But no, she was here to settle her own curiousity.

Ayumi and Mitsuhiko dragged open the warehouse's gate, allowing the sunlight to fill into the building. They could see the many dust particles flying through the air, this place must have been untouched for a long time. There were plants and weeds creeping up from the cracks on the concrete floor, creeping moss and weeds climbing the walls of the warehouse. If not for the distance between their school, they might have already made this place one of their secret hideouts for the detective boys.

They moved inwards into the warehouse, closer to their hiding spot in the crate. There were many scattered crates from the woman's hunt, many crate covers strewn all over the floor, planks lying all over the area. Little dust had settled back on those crates, but it was still easy to tell apart what had been untouched from those crates and the rest, as thick layers of dust  was settled on the abandoned tables and chairs of the warehouse.

"Mitsuhiko! Look! Mud! Its in the same shapes as our shoes!" Ayumi pointed out. Their shoes must have gotten covered in it from their run in the forest. It did rain the day before. This changes everything! "Ayumi! Check the area for more mud stains! I'll check if there are more entrances to this place!" "Ayumi will do her best!" Scampering off, he decided to round the premises to find any other openings and entrances, be it back doors or even holes in the walls. They must have overlooked those mud stains right before they opened the gates wider.

Ayumi counted all the footprints. "This one should be mine, the larger one is Genta's...the ones outside the crate should be Conan's...the other then should be Mitsuhiko's...these heels should be that woman's...then theres only five..." she mumbled to herself as she made her way around, careful as to not step in any trails. 

Looking around, that's when she noticed. "Eh? This footprint, it's been stepped over again. But there's no mud!" She turned on her wrist watch light, shining onto the floor. One of Conan's footprint had been overstepped by a much larger one. they mud was squashed over twice, making it spread out in an odd shape than when left behind by a single step. And seeing how there was no mud overtracing the print, it had meant that whoever stepped over it, managed not to get mud on their shoes. "So someone was here before us...and probably even before the rain the day before yesterday!" She pulled out her phone and took a picture of the odd footprint.

Meanwhile, Mitsuhiko was about to round the premises. "Guess there wasn't a back door to this place..." When he spotted the broken hole in the wall. Bingo! He moved closer to take a picture of it with his phone. The hole was small enough for a teenager or maybe a young woman, but it wasn't large enough for an adult, especially a large man, to fit through. Falling to his knees, he attempted to make his way through, seeing where the hole leads to, but instantly deciding against doing so. 

The ground was stained brown, he wasn't sure if it was blood or rust, and there was barbed wires further inside the hole. Taking another picture of the hole with the stains and the wires, he made his way back to the original entrance to meet with Ayumi. "So there wasn't only one way to get in then."

"Kojima, there's nothing in this room. Let's move on." Haibara prompted him onwards. It would seem that the second floor had about five rooms, so far she would find that three of them were simply offices. Thick layers of dust implied how everything had been left untouched for many years. She had heard multiple squeaks and sounds, a rat infestation was definitely in store for them. She hoped that Yoshida has not encountered any of them. 

They opened the door to the next room. 

"Another office. Check for any signs of movement." "O-okay." She moved in to inspect the cabinets and the tables.

The area seemed to be used as a packing factory for old dolls and toys many years ago. She had found old receipts and order forms for toys from large manufacturing companies asking them to package their products. Although all had been abandoned years ago. She had already did her research on the train about the history of this warehouse as well. Having shut down seven years ago due to embezzlement issues within the company, the owner closed down the business and decided to let the building rot with time.

"Okay, last room." They left the room and made their way down the corridor to the furthest room at the end.  

She twisted the handle. Locked. How strange. The room's entrance itself was already suspicious. Strange drag marks appeared on the tiles just before the opening. 

Bam. Bam. Bam. "Kojima, stop ramming into the door." She pulled out a lockpicking set from her pocket. They were lucky that she kept such things on her with the amount of times they get trapped. With a click, the door opened.

What the fuck.

Kojima puked his lunch out the window.

She had half the mind to do the same but held it in.

"K-kojima, wait outside. Don't come in unless I scream."

"O-okay..." He said between breaths.

Of all things, she really hadn't expected this.

Now this level of disgust, not even her time at the organization could compare.

Blood.

Organs.

Multiple organs.

KidneysLiversLungsEyesIntestinesHeartsStomachsPancreasesBrainsSpleens-

And it wasn't just one. No. It was organs worth of multiple victims. 

She counted the amount of hearts within the assortment of glass jars and tanks filled with organs.

At least twenty victims worth of these.

The room had a metal dissection table directly in the center. It was a relatively large room. A metal cart with scalpels, pliers, drills, saws, and many more tools was settled next to the blood covered table, all of the tools had rust stained on it, having never been cleaned. The blood was already dried up, probably left there for years, but still left a metallic smell around the whole room. Metal storage racks lined the walls of the room, with large jars filled to the brim with different organs, God knows how many victims died here. 

"Haibara! Did something happen? Why's Genta crying outside?!" Mitsuhiko's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"DON'T COME IN!"

"Eh? But we need to investigate-"

"I'm doing you a favour! Don't. Come. In." 

"O-okay..."

"And call the police too! Ask for Inspector Megure!"

She may have seethed at them to scare them, but kids should not be allowed to see this hell hole of a room. Even at the organization, They had a protocol not to experiment nor harvest their victim's organs inhumanely. They had only experiment on mice and the occasional traitors, but never on this level. No. Even they wouldn't stoop to this level of disgust. Her old lab was clean and always sanitized from blood stains. This dark and molded room was on a psychopath level of crime.

Leaving the warehouse, she sat with the rest of the kids by the entrance, placing her hand on Kojima's back as he stared blanky into the forest.

They hoped that the police would come serve justice to whatever monster guilty of this crime.

Chapter Text

"Shit."

Was the first word that came to his mind when he entered the scene. The second was "gross." the smell of metal and mold slammed into his nose like a truck to an isekai protagonist. When he got the call from the Detective Boys about a crime scene, he hadn't expected this level of a crime scene. Mold coated the walls like algae in a fish tank, it made him really glad to be wearing an industrial grade mask in the room. He really didn't want to be breathing in anymore bacteria in this room.

Megure could only seethe in anger as he watch the forensics team work their magic, documenting the room while collecting samples and evidence. Just the sheer amount of blood stains in the room had him aware of just how many victims must have experienced a gruesome death in this very room. If they had only just found this place earlier, they could have been able to save more victims from this fate.

The forensics officers carried the tanks filled with organs and covered it up with an opaque vinyl sheet, preventing the four children outside from seeing anymore than they already have. He'd say that they were lucky only two of them had the misfortune of witnessing such cruelty. With a shock blanket over the two kids, he'd be sure to put them into standard counselling at the station when the return. 

The other two detectives were outside, Takagi taking statements from the children while Shiratori had to throw up outside. He didn't blame him for that, some of the forensics team also couldn't handle the scene and had to leave to recompose themselves. The others, mainly the more experienced officers, had taken over with the investigation.

As the forensics team continued filling out their van with glass jars after glass jars, Megure could only wait for their lab results to determine just how many have suffered such grim deaths trapped in this prison of a room.

"So, what were you guys doing in this warehouse?" Conducting statement collection was always mandatory, no matter how much he wanted to take these kids back to their homes and keep them safe.

"We were hoping to find some evidence from yesterday's case..." Mitsuhiko answered on behalf of Genta and Ayumi, both having sat in a police car, Ayumi rubbing circles on his back.

"But yesterday's case had already been resolved?"

"N-no it's not the exact case we were investigating...it's more of a self investigation..."

"Then, what were you trying to find?" he scribbled it into his notebook.

"...We were looking for traces...we thought that maybe yesterday, there might have been someone else here too."

"What made you think so?"

"It's just- you know how Conan usually takes down the culprit with his soccer ball?"

"uhm... yeah?"

"Well Conan didn't have his ball yesterday! And that made us wonder how he did it...those marks on the woman's neck, Conan couldn't have done those!"

"Those marks?...WAIT! How do you know that?!" Someone really needs to make sure these kids couldn't get such information this easily.

"Uhhh...Anyways, we guessed that there might have been someone here! And we were right!"

Wait what. "E-eh? How so?"

"Yesterday, we all had mud on our shoes, and that left traces! But one of Conan's footprint had been stepped over twice and didn't leave any mud! So we thought, maybe there was someone staying here before it rained two days ago!" He announced his deduction proud like Conan did.

Okay now that, was some really interesting information. Jotting it down on his detective notebook, he'd be sure to report this in with Megure for a possible suspect. If there was someone else already here, they might have known about the room before hand and purposely kept quiet about it and left when the kids came by yesterday.

"Speaking of Conan, wouldn't he be here with you kids today?"

The kid shuffled nervously, "Well, we felt that he was acting weird at school. So maybe he saw who that person was and simply kept quiet about it." Which made sense, if Conan saw who that person was, him acting strangely could be because of that.

"Ah. So do you think Conan possibly knew who they were?"

"uhmm...maybe? He wouldn't have acted like this, he probably would have made sure they stayed behind yesterday to give their statement." These kids were truly impressive for their age. Mouri had definitely taught them well.

"Thank you for your input, do you mind showing me the footprints?"

"Sure!" the kid beamed and began tugging on his sleeve in the direction of the warehouse.

The footprints weren't as obvious as he thought they would be, but it was definitely true that someone had stepped over them. Mud residue was splattered larger in comparison to the others, and bits of the mud had trailed off from the original print. He signaled for the officers to document it.

"That's not all." He jumped as he heard a different voice behind him.

"H-Haibara?"

"Yesterday, when that woman woke up, she started screaming at Edogawa, calling him a monster and a demon. Perhaps she was hallucinating, or maybe she thought she saw the person that choked her. It'd be wise to interrogate her on what happened yesterday."

"O-okay."

He ran back up to the second floor, leaving the two kids behind with the other officers. He had to report his findings to Megure-keibu. Making his way up the rusted stairs, he saw Megure and Shiratori both standing outside the room.

"Megure-keibu! Here's what I got from their statements!" he pulled out his notebook once more. "The kids were here to investigate on behalf of their suspicions from yesterday's case. They suspected that there might have been a secondary party involved in yesterday's apprehension, which lead to the bruises on Mariko-san's neck. Their suspicion has then been further proven true in regards to evidence left in the form of footprints over their own."

"What?!"

"Megure-keibu, I'd like for Mariko-san to be questioned on behalf of yesterday's incident."

"Allowed! Get whoever is closest to Beika hospital to interrogate her!"

"Megure-keibu! Chiba is closest there right now! Shall I fill him in on the details of this case?" Shiratori had already called in on their locations.

"Yes! We need to find anyone who could possibly know anything about this case! We are moving this case up to a priority! Takagi, call Mouri! I'll speak to Superintendent Matsumoto."

The case was no longer a simple investigation. An illegal organ harvesting site could lead to an entire underground illegal organ black market. With the possibility of an illegal organ trade, illegal medical practitioners could also cause many complications and result in more victims. Megure pulled out his phone as he dialed for Matsumoto.

"...Superintendent Matsumoto. There's been a case. Yes, it's very important."

"H-hello? Mouri-tantei?" Takagi was calling the detective agency. He had already attempted to contact Mouri through his personal phone, but it only lead to his mailbox.

"Takagi-keiji? What's wrong?" A childlike voice answered the phone.

"Conan-kun! Is Mouri there?"

"Nope! Kogoro-ojisan went out to solve a case and probably went drinking afterwards!" 

"A-ah. Then, could you leave a message for him?"

"Sure! Is there a case?"

"Yes. Could you ask for him to come to yesterday's warehouse again?"

silence. 

"Uhm...Conan?"

"okay."

That was certainly strange. 

"Also, could you ask for Agasa-hakase to come pick up the kids from headquarters later?"

"Eh? What happened? Why are they there?"

"Oh they were at the warehouse, but we will be bringing them back to the station with us. We'd really like for Agasa to send them home today."

"Did something happen? Are they okay?"

"Y-yes! They're just a bit shaken."

Conan had been reading a shounen jump collection when he heard the ringing from downstairs. He had already positioned himself comfortably over his futon but willed himself up to answer the phone. Another adultery case for occhan to solve, might as well tell them to call back later. Which was what he would have done if not for Takagi's voice on the line. He'd thought it was another homicide case, which he was eager to run over to, if not for the fact that they were back at the warehouse. The one place he didn't want anyone to further investigate. Yesterday was already cutting it close, and with the detective boys and Haibara there, he could only guess what they were doing there.

"Then I'll call Hakase now. What time would you like for him to pick them up?"

"Around seven then."

"Okay! Bye bye Takagi!"

"O-okay! Bye b-"

And he hung up too soon.

He didn't exactly have an idea on what to do. 

Run over to the warehouse? They'd probably already seen everything.

Join in the investigation? He'd only mess up and make himself even more suspicious.

Ask Jodie to help him cover it up? The FBI would only make this their own case and harder for him to intercept.

Burn it down? Let's not get to that point yet. 

First things first, he had to call Agasa. He needs to make sure that the kids were okay. Judging by what he has heard, the kids were probably the ones who called the police. There was only one reason they could be there, and he was pretty sure it wasn't the room. Which meant that they were there because of yesterday's case, but that begs the question, 'what were they looking for' clearly they were investigating something about the case. He knew that the culprit was in fact guilty, she even admitted it when they confronted her, so the case was already closed.

And secondly, why didn't they invite him along? Perhaps his presence would affect their search? Unless they were trying to investigate something involving him without him knowing. He didn't want to presume things, but when all evidence points you north, it'd be hard not to think so too. He wondered what could possibly invoke their suspicion of him. Was it how he tackled her without any fear? Was it how he barely cared that he could lose his life? Was it how he took her down without his shoes or watch? Yea that had to be it. He made sure that he faked it well enough. The look of fear, the pain, the desperation. He'd pretended since the beginning.

Otherwise, he would have been caught a long time ago. He wasn't the son of a world famous actress for no reason.

"Hakase!"

"Sh-shinichi? What's wrong?"

"They kids got themselves in trouble again! Could you pick them up from the station at seven?"

"O-okay. What are you going to do?"

"I need to find occhan. I'm bringing him to the case."

"Where is the case at by the way?"

"Just some warehouse! I'll call you later when you bring the kids back!"

"O-Oi Shinic-"

He really has to learn how to not hang up so soon.

For now, he picked up the note left on the agency table. It had an address of where the case was. Using it to find the nearest bar in its general vicinity, he could easily drag occhan's ass to the train station. That is if he's not already wasted. He snatched his skateboard off the ground where he'd left it, and made his way to the train station. He was lucky that the house he was investigating was somewhere near the warehouse.

"Conan-kun...when I said to relay a message, I didn't mean to directly drag him to the crime scene." It really was a sight to behold. A seven year old on a skateboard, with a full grown adult getting dragged by the sleeve as he drunkardly sways, murmuring incoherently.

"But this way is way faster! And if I had to wait for him, he'd definitely only come by tomorrow! Isn't this case quite urgent?"

"W-well yes, but is he even awake?" He turned to see the drunkard nodding off, swaying as if about to collapse. He kicked his ankles.

"OW-" "See! He's awake!" "you little brat!" "Ojisan! Ojisan! We have a case!" He was immediately placed back down on the ground, having been lifted up by Mouri in frustration. The man in question simply straightened his blazer and adjusted his collar as he cleared his throat, poising himself for the detectives.

"Mouri-kun! So glad that you're here already. The crime scene is on the second floor this way." Megure had appeared right at the entrance to greet them. The instant he appeared, Mouri had sobered up, hoping to keep his look of professionalism in front of the man. He held back the urge to roll his eyes. Right now, he had to make sure that they hadn't already gotten too far into their investigation. By taking away the power of 'Sleeping Kogoro' he already had a one up against them. But that can only hold them off long enough until they manage to put the clues together without his help. And with the forensics scientists already heading back to begin their research, he was against borrowed time.

"No can do Conan-kun, not this time. You're not to enter the scene." Megure man-handled him as he trailed behind them, carrying him and placing him further away from the entrance. 

"Megure-dono, exactly what are we dealing with this time..." "The crime scene is years old..." As the voices gradually faded out, he could only stand still as he watched them close the gate behind them. Well it wasn't like he planned on entering that room in the first place. What they didn't know, was that he had placed a bug on Mouri while he was still out drunk. All he had to do was get him in and he could already listen in on their hypothesis.

"Then, keiji-san! I'm going home now!" He addressed the officer beside him and ran off to get back to the train station. He switched his glasses' receiver on as he got on his skateboard, already had their discussion begun. He hoped he hadn't missed too much info from them. There was only so much he could do without being physically there. For now, he would observe, planning his next move. 

"Mariko Yurika-san, are you able to answer a few questions from us today?" Chiba had been informed of the case not more than twenty minutes ago, and had instantly dropped everything to help. The woman was currently in a hospital bed, recovering from her bruises and is undergoing medical check-ups. 

"yes..." Her weak reply indicated her awareness.

"Also, this interrogation will be recorded as evidence for a different case."

"A different case?"

"Yes. Now, will you please tell me more about what happened yesterday during your attempted murder on the four children." 

Her face soured. "...I was chasing them after they had came to confront me. I thought that I could get away by removing them, but clearly they had already informed you guys before they came." She had a bitter yet regretful look. " I admit, attacking a bunch of kids was indeed very low of me, but I was only thinking of getting away at that time..."

"Alright...Did you notice anything off about the warehouse?"

She shook her head. "...The sky was already darkening and I didn't pay much attention on the place...I was more focused on...you know, getting rid of the witnesses." She confessed meekly.

"Noted. Then...was there anyone else there other than the kids?"

Her face instantly paled. Her breathing immediately started picking up. The medical monitor screen indicated the rise in her pulse.

"..t-there was this...this t-thing...it was definitely not a person..." 

He gave her a dry look. 

"...you don't believe me..." 

She started pulling off the bandages on her neck, unravelling it to reveal deep dark blue and purple bruises across her entire neck. At first he wanted to stop her, but now seeing those markings, he'd started believing what she had said.

"...t-these came from th-that monster!...I-it grabbed me by the neck with one hand...and started- started choking me!" He could see the tears leaking from her eyes as her shoulders trembled in fear. He stood to move closer, putting his hands on her shoulders. He didn't want her to pass out right now, and neither did he need for him to get kicked out from the hospital by the doctors in charge.

"You're okay...you're alright...don't worry, nothing will hurt you..." He tried reassuring her. Seeing her breathing slow down, he was sure it had worked.

"I-I...yes...you're right..." She still had tears in her eyes as she exhaled deeply, keeping a steady hold on her breathing. She stopped trembling as she closed her eyes to recompose herself.

"That boy...the one with the glasses. I had hurt him while he was trying to protect the others. Would you please tell him that I am really sorry..."

"Conan-kun? He got hurt?"

"...yes...I was about to finish him off when that monster appeared...And after that I called him a d-demonspawn...god he's just a child!" She covered her face with her hands in shame. "...I thought that he must have done something...that's why that-that thing appeared right in front of him! Y-You have to understand! I was scared!" It was rather pathetic, how she was trying to excuse what she did.

"Mariko-san. You said that the thing appeared right before you were about to hurt Conan. Did you happen to see where it went before you passed out?"

"Somewhat... before I fainted, it dropped me and went towards the boy...that's why I thought he might have called the thing to kill me before I killed him..."

"I see...Well...thank you Mariko-san. I will call for the doctors to redo your bandages now. Take care." He stood from his stool, leaving the room as he closed it's curtains. He had collected all the recordings and information he could with all that he currently knew. Honestly, he had to really keep his cool and refrain from yelling at the already traumatized patient, he didn't understand who could possibly attempt to take a child's life. And not just one, but four children. 

No time to be pissed, he had to get these recordings to Megure-keibu. Whatever she saw could possibly be really important for the case he was told about.

Chapter Text

"Kids! Are all of you alright?!" Hakase came running in from the entrance, huffing as he came to a stop after running through the hallways of the police headquarters. His worry shown clearly on his face as he went around to check on each and every one of them. Out of all of them, Genta seemed the most out of it, with tears still streaming down his cheeks as he hugged himself closer. 

"We're alright Hakase... But Genta... Ayumi thinks whatever he saw must have scared him a lot..." She made a motion to hold his hand, only for him to remain unresponsive. "The detectives said that a person will talk to him soon, and that he will probably need to see them again..." Ayumi referred to the mandated child psychologist that had been assigned to him, having witnessed something so gruesome.

Agasa kneeled down, putting a hand on both their shoulders. "Thank you for looking after him Ayumi. Genta, I don't know what happened or what you saw, but don't be scared to talk to the doctor later. You can even speak to me whenever you need." Ayumi wiped off some tears that had pooled within her eyes, while Genta gave a slight nod. At least he knew that he hadn't fully disassociated. 

"Let's get some cake after this shall we?" from the side of his eye, he saw a small smile creep up Genta's face. 

"Hakase." 

Haibara and Mitsuhiko had returned with 4 cups of hot chocolate, carrying one in a hand each. "How did you know to come get us?" 

"Ah Conan had called just now. He seemed to be really in a rush. Apparently he had to bring Mouri-tantei to a case at some warehouse."

"Wait- so he knows what happened??"

"Uh, he said that all of you had gotten in some sort of trouble again. He'll call later when I bring you back! But I don't think he's heard what happened yet, he said that he needed to find mouri-san for a case."

Haibara didn't know what to think. She needed to know what Kudo was hiding from her, why he was so avoidant about what happened in that warehouse, why he looked at the warehouse with so much disdain. Yes she felt bad that she went behind his back with the kids to figure out what he had tried to gloss over. But she just had to know, she had to keep the children safe after all.

"Kojima Genta-kun! Please enter the councilor room for your appointment!" One of the front desk assistant called.

"Then, Ai-kun, please look after them while I take Genta-kun in" Hakase told her as he gently pulled Genta to his feet, taking his hand as they left for his check-in.

"Haibara-san... are we still gonna continue our investigation?" Mitsuhiko asked. "I've never seen Genta-kun like this... even after all the things we have seen... I-... I'm scared that Ayumi-chan might also end up like...like"

"... It's okay Tsuburaya, we won't investigate anymore-"

"-I don't want that!" 

They turned to Ayumi at her outburst. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Ayumi wants to find out the person who did this! They hurt Genta-kun! I don't know what Genta-kun saw, but they still hurt him badly... and I don't want this person to run around freely!" She had started crying amidst her declaration, anger and determination built up within her. 

"Ayumi-chan! we can't-" "Then let's try a different method. Rather than the warehouse, how about we try our good friend Takagi-keiji." Haibara interrupted Mitsuhiko. Ayumi smiled, glad that they hadn't decide to yield their investigation back to Conan.

"Then, lets wait for Kojima-kun." "Yes!" "Okay!"

The session went well. They had informed Genta's father of the situation, him being unable to attend the session due to work. He understood that Hakase didn't know that they had snuck off after school to that warehouse again, but still gave him a warning to look after the kids better. The councilor had also appointed both Genta and Haibara a Leave of Absense from school, giving them time to process what they had witnessed to recover. To which Genta's father informed them that Genta would spend his leave at home, not to see the rest of the detective boys until he has been confirmed to be happy and healthy with no mental scars. Fair enough she supposed.

"Alright, I promised you all to cake, so lets head over to Poirot!" Hakase announced, trying to lighten everyone's mood. The kids seem to brighten up, with Genta giving them a big grin which seemed to multiply the other's joy. 

They arrived at Poirot within no time, the kids quickly unbuckled their seatbelts and got onto the sidewalk towards the cafe, right before the saw a familiar kid walking up towards the detective agency. 

"Conan-kun! You're back already?" Mitsuhiko skipped ahead, greeting him

"Yup, went out for a skate and had to fetch occhan for a case."

Before Haibara could save him from his fumble, "Why aren't you at the warehouse then?" and he spoke too soon. 

"Why would I be at the warehouse?"

"Because you went there with Mouri-ojisan after we called the police!"

"Then why were you guys at the warehouse again?"

He stutters, realising that he couldn't answer him. 

"We were just looking for something ayumi left behind." Haibara spoke for him.

"Ahh I see, I'm heading back up to the agency, feel free to come visit. Hope your stuff Ayumi-chan." with that Conan continued up the stairs, skateboard in hand.

Ending that encounter, they entered the cafe for a much deserved treat.

He locked the door behind him, putting on his earpieces, listening to the voices coming from them, the bug he placed on the old man had proven useful. Ran wouldn't be home for a while, needing to run an errand right after karate practice, allowing him to listen in freely to their investigation. He hoped he would have a good estimate on how much the detectives figure out by the end of it.

>

"- fter clearing out the room, we have collected a total of 48 containers, with multiple containing more than one viscera. we estimate at least 13 people worth of organs have been preserved. We will be bringing them back for further investigation. Thank you for your hard work, detectives."

Megure: "Good work doc'. There's not much left to investigate, so Mouri-tantei, what do you think?" 

Mouri: "Keibu. This... whoever did this, is no ordinary killer... I didn't expect such a scene would happen right within the outskirts of Beika."

Someone cleared their throat

Takagi: "T-then shall we discuss our speculations."

Shiratori: "The forensics team believe that the scene is to be at least 4 years old, if that's the case, I'd like to cross reference all missing cases from 3 years to 8 years ago with the DNA samples found in the...parts..."

Megure: "Alright I'll leave that to you to complete. Takagi, Mouri, what do you have for me?"

Takagi: "Actually, I'd like to bring to attention something the kids brought up. If you would follow me downstairs..."

Multiple sets of footsteps are heard, clanking down what he would believe were the metal steps of the warehouse.

Takagi: "The kids noticed a couple of irregular traces of footsteps left behind. This one in particular ... looks like it has been retraced over without residue, the mud that was left behind by Conan-kun's shoe has been squashed and spread out. What I'd like to believe is that there was someone within the warehouse way before the kids and Mariko-san were."

Megure: "And? How is this related to organs we found?"

Takagi: "A-Ah what I mean is, well ... the person who left this behind wouldn't have been staying within this warehouse for no reason. Maybe someone homeless taking refuge? Either way, they might have information about the room upstairs if they've been here a long time, or even worse, they could be behind all this..."

Megure: "Hmm you bring up a good point... Takagi, investigate the commercial, interview any of the homeless refuges you spot... We'll also get the K9-unit to do a sweep of any traces if so. Well then Mouri, what do you think? Ah- also, please bring Conan-kun by the station tomorrow after school, we'd like to see if he knows anything about this mysterious person."

Mouri: "Keibu, there's not much for me to work off of this, for all we know, with this amount of remains... this might as well be a site for organ harvesting-"

Megure: "-That's it! Illegal Organ Harvesting! sigh, we'll inform Matsumoto-keishi of this development then... Alright let's end this for today, we can continue this tomorrow. Mouri, it's almost dinner time, Ran-kun and Conan-kun must be waiting for you."

Mouri: "Yes Keibu! then I'll be off"

>

Conan stared blankly into space, he knew that the police were only going to run a headless goose chase for this supposed "organ-harvesting case." and Takagi would definitely never find this so called "mystery person". He knew everything the police were missing for this case, but how could he possibly tell them that? He flopped backwards into the sofa's backrest. He only had until the end of school tomorrow to make up his mind. 

Be the key that opens this case? Or the lock that binds it shut... sigh

"-Conan-kun? There you are! I came back but couldn't find you in the house just now." Ran exclaimed from the agency's front door. "Geez turn on the lights if you're gonna sit here. I'll finish preparing dinner in about an hour okay? Make sure you finish your homework and take a shower alright?" She made her way upstairs into the apartment. 

For now, he'll just sleep on it. No need to bring up the skeletons in his closet. Maybe the case will drive itself into a cold corner for all they know. He made his way back up to the apartment. 

"Guess i'll take a shower first..."

In the Forensics Laboratory, a phone call is made...

"... Kazami-san, there's been a predicament..."

"-"

"yes...I know it's late, but sir-"

"-"

"... It's Ajins... There are Ajins involved."

Chapter Text

...5 years ago

Genesis, Day 0

"Goodness, that's the 18th victim already..." 12 year old Shinichi clutch the newspaper tightly as he walked to school. Although he was only in 6th grade of elementary school, he had adopted certain habits of reading the morning papers along the way to keep up with the latest infographics.

It started with a murder, followed by multiple, to which the police had only recently found a link to them all. It had already been 3 months since the first one occurred. A brutal serial killing, with each victim left behind mutilated and deformed, some left unidentifiable without DNA or their belongings. The case hadn't initially caught his eye, believing that the police force could easily bring the killer to justice. It was only until the fourth victim did he start following the case persistently.

"Morning Shinichi, what did you see on the news today?" Ran walked up to him

"It's terrible, 18 victims and they still can't catch this killer... even I can do better than that." folding his newspaper and tucking it under his arm, he slowed his pace down to match hers.

"ah-scary... I hope they catch this killer soon... My dad has been grumbling about it when he came home late last night." 

sigh "I just wish my old man would at least give the police some advice, instead of running off to write more novels..." Kudo Yuusaku had once been a genius detective, always solving cases faster than many other professionals in the field. 

"I'm sure that the detectives there are more than capable to solve the case without his help!" 

"...well if they really were that capable, wouldn't they have solved it already..." he grumbled out, not intending her to hear. At first, he hadn't truly processed what he had said, and the fact that Ran's father was also part of the investigators in the same case, unintentionally insulting him right in front of his daughter.

"Jeez! Well if you wanna play detective so badly, go ahead and do what no adults can right now and solve that case then!" Ran scolded him. 

"I'm not playing! I AM a detective Ran! I can solve cases too, unlike some people!"

If there was one thing he hated, was when he wasn't taken seriously for his passion of solving cases. The many times he tried to join in on investigations, how he helped around the neighbourhood for those little cases that seemed so insignificant. He wasn't playing around, he really is a detective.

"Then why don't you go solve that case then! Do it! So my dad can finally have dinner with us again!" tears were already threatening to escape her eyes.

"Fine! I'll solve it! And when I do, you don't get to call my detective work, playing around, anymore!" He stomped off, speeding up, an idea already forming up what to do after school.

School had ended faster than it felt, maybe the anger he felt within blurred his sense of time. He packed his textbook back into his schoolbag, closing the bag and swinging it onto his shoulders. His parents had left for an event in America, claiming to be back within 2 weeks, with only Agasa-hakase keeping him in check within that time slot. He knew if he wanted to, he could come home as late as he wanted, giving him ample time to investigate outside freely as he pleases. Sliding the classroom door open, he booked it out of the school as fast as he could, before he could even hear Ran trying to approach him. Slipping on his outdoor shoes, Shinichi sprinted out of the school gates.

"...so far there were some clues left behind by all the crime scenes..." he mumbled to himself as he opened the doors to his house, holding takeout food from a nearby store on his way back. From what he gathered from the locations, it seemed that there was a pattern which followed. 

"...if what I think is true..." he pulled out his phone, pulling up the local map. "Then this should be where the pattern originates from! Geez, why didn't the police find this spot faster!" It was a warehouse, having been close down and left to rot away after it's shut down 2 years ago. Could it be that there was a victim there which have not yet been discovered? He wanted to know, he needed to find out. 

Taking off his shoes, he went to the kitchen, deciding to eat it on the counter. Oh how he wanted to leave right now and see for himself whether his deduction was true. Shinichi quickly finished his meal, placing his bag in his room. He packed a sling bag for his journey, it was Friday and that meant he had the whole weekend to dedicate to the case. He packed a flashlight, a water bottle, his wallet and keys, and his jacket all into the sling bag of his. 

Finally after his shower, he changed into a shirt and some long pants, putting on a parka as well to brace the cold night. It was already 8.55pm, and the temperature would only drop as the night progresses. He decided he would ride his bike all the way, since there weren't any bus stops near the forest the warehouse was in. Slinging his bag, he left the house, grabbing his bike, ready to make the trip. Agasa-hakase had been so busy with his recent project he hadn't checked in on him for the few days his parents were gone, making it all the more easier to sneak off.

"All set, let's go." He pushed off his bike, peddling off to his destination. 

"...Is this the place?" Shinichi said to no one. He had underestimated just how long it would take to bike to the middle of nowhere, the forest making it way more difficult than it should be. It was already past 10pm when he managed to find the warehouse. Dismounting his bike, he proceeded to hide it under a pile of leaves near a bush. The warehouse looked bigger than it did online when it was night, making it all the more daunting of a task to even search the place. Walking up to the gates of the building, he tried to jangle the lock that held its doors in place.

"Man, I should have just waited till tomorrow..." He made a round around the warehouse, hoping to find a window or any other way else through. "I hope I didn't do a whole cardio workout for nothing. Just imagining the ride back makes me feel tired already." grumbling to himself, almost regretting coming here after all. He could have waited till morning, take a cab instead of a "leg-powered horse ride", but no, he just had to be impatient. 

That's when he saw it, an entrance. Well not really, it was small crack in the warehouse wall, barely visible and hidden by the wild shrubbery. He figured he could crawl in easily with his size.

Placing the flashlight in his mouth and his bag on the ground, he crouched down, crawling slowly into the crack. Only then had he notice the barbed wires that was lined with miniature blades, decorating the walls of the crack, when he was already halfway in, too focused on trying to get a peak of what was inside.

click-

His arm had gotten caught on a thin string, Shinichi didn't even notice it, appearing transparent like a piano wire. He hadn't been looking so closely as to were he was crawling. It was so sudden, he could barely react to it at all.

A mechanism triggered. The sounds of a rotor starting up made him flinch.

He tried to push himself out of the crevice, but he was too late. The wires had already sprung to life, like vines twisting and writhing with a strange hunger for anything within its reach. 

The blades tore through his clothes, slicing deep into his skin. He screamed as every razor bit into his flesh, the wires twisting tighter, driving them in further. He'd dropped the flashlight in his mouth in the process.

The wires had embedded itself deeper with each movement he made, Shinichi felt like every part of him was being strangled by death itself. Struggling with panic and pain. Breathing was getting hard as he felt himself hyperventilating. He could hear his own heartbeat throbbing in his head, the pounding making his head spin. 

His arms and leg weakened under the pain, giving out as he could no longer hold himself up.

The wire that had bound his shoulders slid upward- 

-and sliced open his neck.

He didn't know how long he had been stuck in this deathtrap. It felt like ages. He had passed out at one point, and woken up again in total darkness, flashlight having run out of battery. His limbs turned numb long ago, with the occasional burning pain that came back every few seconds, which contradict the freezing cold air that sent him into shivers.

"Hahhh… ngh-hahh…" he struggled to maintain a steady breath, each inhale sending a cold shock through his lungs.

...-brrrmmm brrrmmmm

It sounded like a motorbike. Someone was here. Someone who could possibly save him. Someone who could possibly be the killer-

He was scared. 

"-for fuck sake! I swear to god if it's another fucking animal I find, I will shit myself." A voice rang out as the sound of the warehouse entrance gates dragged open. This person knew of the trap. This person had set the trap and it had worked before. He was scared but he was in so much pain, he needed to get out so badly.

"...h-help..." He whimpered out. The lights of the warehouse turned on, revealing a man, the owner of the voice. He was a middle aged man, well kept with a clean face. He looked like the average salary man, which made him wonder if he was a security guard patrolling the warehouse area.

"...Holy shit!" The man put his hands to his face, covering his mouth. He looked like he was in shock, processing the amount of blood on the floor Shinichi had only just noticed now that the lights were back.

"help... please... get me-... out..." he hissed out in pain, each word sending shocks of pain throughout his body. 

The man slowly put his hands down, only to reveal,

A grin wide across his face. 

His stomach dropped.

Chuckles began to erupt from him, turning into hysterical laughter. This man. This was the killer. And he was trapped here with him.

He was going to die here, alone.

He's going to kill him.

He'll kill him and the police would find his body here.

He'll kill him and he'll get away with it.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't help the sob that escaped him. He struggled to breathe properly, gasping, air ragged and shallow. The man just stood there grinning at him as if he'd just won the lottery. 

"I didn't think that anyone would be stupid enough to climb through that death trap i made! Well, a dumbass kid might!" the man cackled. "How the fuck are you still alive?!" glancing towards the red gore on the floor, he continued his mockery. "Oh man, when I first made this shit, I kept catching wild rabbits and raccoons in it. Now I'm catching humans too? What a fucking upgrade!" The man had a sailor's mouth, swearing with no restrains even in front of a kid.

"...get...-away!" he hissed out. 

"Feisty one huh? It's not really my taste to kill kids, but since you know about this place and also seen my face... You won't be seeing mom and dad anymore!" The man walked over to a nearby supply closet, bringing out a hammer from a toolbox.

"Sorry 'bout this kid." He raised the hammer high up.

And Shinichi knew that this would be the last thing he saw, knew that if only he had been more patient, if only he hadn't decide to rush into the warehouse alone. He could have survived to become a real detective.

Regret flooded him, he wished he could at least apologise to Ran. He didn't want the last memory of him to be of him yelling at her. If only-

The hammer came down.

Shinichi didn't expect to wake up again. He was so sure he had felt the pain from the hammer, the blunt force of it colliding into his skull. The cold metal greeted him, only just realising he was bound to a surface, lying flat on a hard solid ground. His body was freezing.

He looked down, noticing the lack of his jacket, left only in his shirt and torn pants. It was covered it blood, but strangely, he didn't feel any pain anywhere. Glancing at his arms, he only then realised that the cuts where the wires should have been were all gone. His arms were now bound with rope instead, tying them down to the edge of the surface he now realised was a metal table. His legs, too, were secured, unable to move them at all.

The lights overhead were too bright, which was also what woke him up. It finally hit him. Someone had moved him. The killer. 

He looked around, the room was filled with empty metal shelves, the table he was on was also directly in the center of the room, with the door leading out on his right, behind another row of metal shelves. The panic was seeping in, he didn't understand why he kept him here, why he was still alive, how he was still alive. Either way, he couldn't figure out any way to escape.

creaak

The door opened. He was back, the killer, along with a strange bag.

"Ah finally awake aren't ya." He was wearing something different from yesterday. A zip up sweater with long pants, along with a rubber apron and gloves. He looked like a fishmonger.

"Ya'know, I'm pretty sure I killed you yesterday. Saw that brain splatter and all those bits after... But then it grew back. So I check again! And whaddyaknow you came back again! And I couldn't help myself ya'know, the curiosity is getting to me... how much can you grow back?" The nutcase spoke as he plopped his bag down. 

"...What the hell are you talking about?!" He seethed at him, suddenly finding it much easier to speak than yesterday.

"oh well, even if you can't tell me, as long as I can have fun and figure it out myself, who cares!" The man pulled out a knife from the bag. Specifically, a butcher knife. 

"hmm let's try an arm first." 

"An arm? Wha-"

slam.

For a moment, there was nothing. No pain, no sound, just a strange weightless emptiness. Then it all came crashing down.

A tidal wave of searing, white-hot agony surged through him, radiating from where his arm should have been. His vision blurred as his brain tried to comprehend what just happened. 

His breath hitched. Please god no. He couldn't move his fingers. His fingers weren't there. His arm wasn't there. 

He could hear his heartbeat again, every beat resonating through his skull to his ears. Blood poured in thick pulsating waves, the metallic smell suffocated him. 

A raw deafening scream escaped his throat. 

He thrashed, kicking and yanking on his restrains, trying to grasp as his wound to stop the bleeding, but he remained bound by the ropes weighing him down. Not noticing how his captor had froze at his shriek of agony. His body trembled violently, threatening to go into shock. His vision flickered, breaking into static, as if his mind was fracturing under the pain. 

"Fuck." The man shivered, finally snapping out of his paralysis. "I should’ve shut you up earlier—then I wouldn’t have to hear that god-awful scream of yours." He yanked a towel from his bag, shoving it into his mouth. The gag made his struggle for air even worse, his body convulsing against the restraints.

"...shit now all the bloods splattered on me too..." the man's voice seemed to fade off.

He was slipping, his consciousness dragged into the abyss-unaware of the hell that would be awaiting him.

Genesis, Day 1

Chapter Text

Genesis Day 1, Death Counter: 3

[gore warning, read at your own expense, skip this chapter if you must]

-SLAP.

"oi. wake up, brat."

Shinichi wearily opened his eyes.

Once again, he was greeted by the scent of his own blood. The metallic odor flooding his nose, causing him to shudder awake, yanking hard on his restrains. His arm-oh right his arm, he looked down to where he had so vividly remember it had been. He wondered how it looked, if it had stopped bleeding, if the wound had sealed up while he was unconscious.

What he didn't expect was for it to be completely fine.

His arm was still there.

He sighed in relief.

Maybe it had been all a sick trick in his mind, but that wouldn't explain the iron stench that flooded the room.

"Looking for this?" the killer announced his presence again, he had forgotten that he was still standing beside him.

The man peered over him.

He was holding something, bringing it over his lying body for him to see.

His arm.

The very similar arm that was still attached to him. It was a copy of his arm.

His breath hitched, a sharp inhale breaking the silence. 

"H-Huh?! Wha—how the—what the—?!"

The man turned around, stashing the arm into a newly brought in cooler box. 

"W-why are you doing this-?" he rasped. 

"-4 minutes and 27 seconds."

"...huh?"

"That's how long it took for your arm to regrow... Well, only three seconds if you don’t count the part where your heart had to stop first."

"...W-What…? W-What are you talking about?!"

sigh "I'm saying you died, and your damn body stitched itself back together, for fuck’s sake. But if you’re too fucking stupid to believe me, I’ll just show you again." He snarled, his voice getting more aggressive.

"Wait, wait—no! You don’t have to show me!" he blurted out, panic lacing his voice. He took a sharp breath as he swallowed hard. "Just… why? Why are you doing this?" he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone.

"Why?" he sneered, a cold laugh escaping his lips. "HAH." His chuckle was dark, malicious, as though savoring every word. "At first, all I needed to do was get rid of you… But then you came back to life, and it made everything so much more... complicated."

His voice dropped, dripping with venom. "See, once I realized you could revive with new limbs attached, it got me thinking..."

A twisted smile slowly spread across the man's—no, the monster's—face, sending a shiver of dread through Shinichi’s spine.

"...Wouldn't those precious little organs of yours come back too?"

His insides lurched, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat, fighting the violent urge to gag.

Oh god.

Oh god, no. 

A cold sweat drenched his skin as the realization sank in, his breath quickening silently, chest tightening with dread. His body froze, heart hammering in his ears, unable to tear his gaze away. A sharp, dizzying pressure built behind his eyes, his vision swimming at the edges. Shinichi's fingers twitched, tingling with a strange numbness, his hands tightening into fists before jerking open again.

He was going to cut him open.

'I don't wanna die-I'm scared. Please god no. I don't wanna die-I don't wanna die-I don't wanna-'  

bzzzzt-...bzzzzt-...bzzzzt-...

"Ah-fuck!" the monster yanked his phone out of his pocket. "Shit! It's already six??? Fuck, I'm gonna be late for work." He placed his phone onto the table and pulled his apron off. Taking off his sweater and pants, revealed a working class suit and pants underneath. The monster had came prepared, and the killer had a 9 to 5 job to do apparently. "thank fuck i wore this crap too, wouldn't have had time to shower-ahh shit-I need to get rid of this smell too uegh..." 

Turning off the lights, he slammed the door shut, hearing a click when the door locked, leaving behind the bag and cooler box that he brought in. He was still chained to the table, unable to move, but never had he felt so much more comfortable than before. He could feel his muscles relax in relief, tensions escaping the moment the monster walked out.

"...thank goodness..."

He took a shaky breath, uneven and unsteady.

Then, another—sharper this time, barely stifled. His chest trembled, rising and falling in uneven, shallow gasps.

A ragged inhale. A choked whimper. His lips parted, but the sound died before it could escape.

A broken sob.

The first sob broke through—a sharp, uneven gasp. Then another. His shoulders jerked, his entire body trembling as the floodgates shattered

He was breaking down, freely crying at that point, gasping for air in his poorly ventilated prison.

He was scared. He was so, so scared.

His chest ached, like something had caved in. His stomach twisted painfully. He wanted to go home. He wanted someone to find him. He wanted to wake up in his bed and realize this was all just a bad dream.

But the smell of blood was so strong. And no one was coming.

So he cried.

He cried until his sobs turned into quiet hiccups. Until his body was too exhausted to shake anymore. Until his vision blurred and the weight of everything dragged him into an uneasy, trembling silence.

"...mom...d-dad...please...anyone?...save me..."

Shinichi didn't know how long he had been stuck staring at nothing in the room of total darkness. He could hear the crickets buzzing outside, the birds chirping, the occasional drip from the old rusty pipes. He fell asleep multiple times, only to jolt awake from his nightmares. His body ached from lying on the cold hard surface of the metal table.

SLAM- click-

"Haahhh..." The man had returned, slamming open the door and turning the lights back on so casually as if he were in his own home. He was carrying more bags this time. Plastic bags from different supermarkets and convenient stores, he was scared but also curious to see what was inside.

The man poured out the stuff onto a table next to him. The first items he noticed were multiple packs of white opaque disposable raincoats. Child-sized raincoats. The man was also sporting a raincoat, a big transparent one, covering his entire button up shirt and pants, with yellow rubber construction boots. 

He pulled out a cloth and stepped toward him.

Then, in one swift motion, he pressed it over his mouth and nose.

Chloroform.

That was his last, panicked thought before everything went dark.

When he snapped back into reality, he was still laying back on the table. Only this time, he noticed his outfit had changed, so as his restraints. He was now wearing one of those raincoats with nothing underneath, feeling the rough plastic itching his skin. He flinched at the thought of knowing that this monster was the one who changed his clothes.

The rope had been changed to a much newer and thicker one, no longer the old and rough ropes left behind in the warehouse scraps. New rope tying him down across the table on his thighs and neck, preventing him from raising his head any higher, restricting his point of view even further.

The room had also changed slightly, now the table was surrounded by vinyl sheets, covering the metal racks and shelves, encasing him an the killer in a 'sterile' bubble.

"Ah, finally awake? Took you long enough." He smirked, tilting his head. "Had to knock you out—first time keeping a pet human, y'know. Would’ve been a pain if you started screaming." He chuckled, the sound dripping with mock amusement. "It was a pain in the ass to get you into that so you better thank me."

The man dragged a table closer, Shinichi turned his head, trying to get a glimpse of what he was going to do to him. And oh how he regretted finding out. 

There was a fucking chainsaw.

"Pretty cool isn't it? Found this in the shed a little earlier, and I couldn't stop myself from bringing it in." The man gave the chainsaw a pat, as if proud of its existence. 

"...No, no, no—what the fuck—w-what the—MFFHH!"

A rough towel was shoved into his mouth, cutting off his panicked stammering. Before he could spit it out, the man yanked it tight, securing it around his head. His muffled protests died in his throat, reduced to desperate, stifled whimpers.

"Haahhh- almost forgot about what happened last time." The man sighed.

Shinichi didn't know this at that time, but an Ajin's shriek is capable of paralyzing any and everyone within hearing range. Which was why the man made sure to keep him silenced from then on.

"aww don't worry, I won't be using it that often! wouldn't wanna hurt those precious organs now would I?" His smirk never once faltered throughout all this. Like all of this—the pain, the fear, the suffering—was nothing more than a game to him.

'pet human' he had called him. And he very well knew he was treated like one. Like some disposable plaything.

He unbuttoned the top half of the raincoat, exposing Shinichi's torso.

Then, with a deliberate, almost lazy motion, the monster picked up the chainsaw.

A flick of his wrist—

The engine roared to life, rattling in his hands, its jagged teeth glinting under the dim light.

"Oh, but just once wouldn’t hurt... right?"

And he was struggling again. Desperately. His wrists burned as he yanked against the restraints, the coarse material biting into his skin, rubbing it raw. Every pull, every frantic tug, sent another jolt of pain through his limbs—but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

The monster didn’t even flinch. Didn’t pause. Didn’t care.

With the same sick amusement in his eyes, he brought the roaring chainsaw closer—inch by inch, the serrated teeth vibrating with deadly hunger.

A choked, visceral scream tore from his throat, but the gag swallowed it whole, smothering his terror into pitiful, muffled cries.

The surface of his skin twisted-

-and ripped open.

A sound ripped from his throat—inhuman, raw, wrong. A wet, choked scream that barely made it past the gag before dissolving into garbled, animalistic shrieks. The chainsaw tore through flesh and bone like paper, vibrating through every nerve like an electric current of agony.

His body convulsed, instinctively trying to twist away, but there was no escape—just more pain, deeper pain. His nerves sang with white-hot fire, every inch of him screaming louder than his throat ever could. The acrid stench of burning flesh and iron filled his nose, his own body betraying him as his muscles seized, spasmed, and failed.

Tears streaked down his face, his vision disintegrating into white static. His mind couldn't comprehend it—it refused to—but the reality was there, in every sickening crunch, every thick spray of warmth splattering across the floor. Bits and chunks of his organs scattered across the room, launching itself onto the vinyl sheets, and occasionally the ceiling. 

And through it all, he couldn't even breathe. 

For once, He was glad that his neck had been restrained, a mercy in cruelty, preventing him from watching as his own body is being torn apart. He could see the maniacal expression on that monster's face, the sheer glee of ripping a person apart. Shinichi could feel his screams tearing through his chest, but all he heard was a deafening, endless ringing in his ears.

It all felt like a blur.

between the agony and the asphyxiation,

The only thing Shinichi could do 

was to let go.

Genesis Day 2, Death Counter: 14

Shinichi’s breath shuddered through clenched teeth. His body ached—no, it shouldn’t just ache. It should be gone. Torn open. Left in pieces. He remembered the pain, the brutal sound of flesh ripping, the unbearable cold creeping in as his own body betrayed him.

But now…

Now, he was still here.

He stared into the void, the suffocating blackness pressing down on him from all sides. The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, but there was none left on his tongue. No wounds. No burning, searing agony where his body had been—should have been—destroyed.

His breathing hitched. His fingers twitched against the restraints. That’s not possible.

A whimper built in his throat as he tugged weakly at the bindings around his wrists, the coarse material biting into his raw skin. His legs wouldn’t move—no, they could move, but they were still there. Whole. Intact. Like nothing had happened.

"No..." The word barely escaped him. "No, no, no, no—"

He was fine.

He shouldn’t be fine.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking violently against the restraints. "I—I died. I know I did—I felt it—I felt everything—" His voice cracked, hysteria creeping in. "I should be dead—why am I not dead?"

No one answered. The room was empty.

The monster was gone.

And somehow, that made it worse.

He was alone. Alive. Stuck in this body.

"I can’t die..." His whisper wavered, barely audible beneath his ragged breaths. The words felt like lead, heavy, sinking deep into his chest like a slow, crushing weight.

It wasn't relief.

It wasn't salvation.

It was a curse.

Shinichi drifted in and out of sleep.

Each time, he woke with a sharp gasp, heart hammering, breath shallow. The dark pressed in around him, suffocating, empty—yet never empty enough.

Sleep never came fully. It toyed with him, pulling him under for moments at a time before paranoia wrenched him back. His body ached, exhaustion clawing at his bones, but fear was stronger. It kept him on edge, waiting. 

He only realized it later, but the man had gone to work on a Saturday. It had helped him narrow down which sectors he could be working under. Retail, customer service, government positions... 

That thought made him shudder. He had his suspicions when the killer had been able to dodge the police body after body. It should be impossible to get away with that much evidence left behind at each crime scene. There had been multiple surveillance cameras at each site, it should have been impossible to remain unseen and undetected.

His theories and hypothesis kept him going, made sure he wouldn't fall asleep, only to dream of that monster again. 

He wondered if he would ever make it out.

If he would ever see his parents again

If he would ever go to school again

would he still be the same person in front and Ran and his friends? 

would he still be the same twelve year old kid who dreams of becoming a detective?

-stop.

he had to stop spiraling.

he was already dehydrated enough from crying.

steadying his breath, all he could do now was wait until the monster was back to haunt him again...

Chapter Text

Genesis Day 2, Death Counter: 14

[gore warning, read at your own expense, skip this chapter if you must]

Shinichi waited alone in that dark room, motionless, and unfeeling.

"...Wouldn't those precious little organs of yours come back too?"

It haunted him, replaying the phrase in his head over and over again. 

How many times would he be cut open?

How many times would there be hands inside him, stealing the little that belonged to him?

His fingers twitched, numb from the hours of stillness. The cold metal table and long turned warm from his body heat, making him sweaty and clammy in this poorly ventilated prison. The plastic raincoat only made it worse-trapping heat like a suffocating second skin. 

'Someone will come...someone will find me here...and it'll be all over...'

Hours he'd spent day dreaming of his rescue, his father's face a recurring imagination.

Would he fly on back home the moment he knew his son was missing?

Would he still watch from afar if he knew his son was a victim too?

And-oh, how he craved his mother's warmth.

He imagined her arms around him, soft and safe, her voice a gentle lullaby against the horror pressing in. Just like when he was small, when he’d curl under the blankets, trembling from a storm too loud, too close.

He was still small, wasn’t he?

Still a child.

Still afraid.

The door creaked open. The monster was back.

He looked… normal. No blood, no stains, nothing to suggest he had done anything at all. Just a man in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, casual, almost relaxed. 

But then he smiled.

"Ahh~ it's been so long since I had a normal kill. I can't believe how refreshing it always feels."

Shinichi felt his stomach lurch. His breath caught in his throat. Someone else had died. And he was still here, still breathing.

His fingers curled into weak fists, nails pressing into his damp palms. Why?

The monster should have just taken it out on him. Should have carved into him instead. He could always come back. He would always come back.

But someone else wouldn’t.

A pit opened in his stomach. Someone else should have lived.

"It was so fucking difficult to find someone willing to buy illegal organs on such short notice." The man muttered, unloading his bags. He had brought a cooler box filled with dry ice. "Oh but with Japan's low organ donation rates, these prices skyrocket with every desperate bastard on the waiting list."

He spread out a tray of medical equipment—scalpels, forceps, tweezers—nothing resembling a full set of proper surgical tools. Not that it mattered. A patient who didn't need stitches or to worry about dying made things easier for a man who had never performed surgery in his life. It also meant less money spent on buying proper instruments.

"...Haahh—since it's my first time harvesting organs, why don't we start with a little practice? I'm more of a visual learner after all."

The man left briefly, returning with a glass canister filled with a colourless liquid. One by one, he brought in more, lining the shelves with countless identical containers.

"Thank god this place had these shitty jars. I already blew my yearly bonus on that formaldehyde-formalin-crap, whatever it's called. Wouldn't want my precious trophies turning into sludge, now would I?" 

He kept bringing more and more containers, the sound of the liquid sloshing as he poured it from a tank on a foldable trolley. Shinichi didn’t dare count—he couldn’t bring himself to know just how many of them would end up holding pieces of him.

Once the last canister was placed on the shelf, the man pulled on a poncho like the one he wore yesterday, followed by a face mask and latex gloves. 

"Hah-hahaha, didn’t think I’d be playing pretend doctor at this age." The monster stepped closer, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. "Hmm, would this be a surgery or a dissection? Perhaps an autopsy? No, no, you'd have to be dead for that... Hmm... What’s that word? Oh, right, a vivisection!" 

The monster picked up the scalpel, twirling it between his fingers. 

"Guess I would be more of a scientist than a doctor, huh? More fitting, don’t you think, my dear specimen?" The monster's words were thick with ridicule. 

And oh how if the gag had been removed from his mouth, Shinichi would be begging. Begging to be let go, begging to go home. He didn't know how much more he could take. The chainsaw had been quick and messy. Physically, it was excruciating. But this? This was a different kind of torture.

The blade dug into his skin. 

Deeper.

And deeper.

His vision swam, blurred by the flood of tears that refused to stop. His muffled screams, choked behind the gag, filled the room. 

Time seemed to slow. Shinichi couldn't tell just how long he'd laid open.

Every incision stretched into eternity, every second a cruel mockery of relief that never came. The pain pulsed, radiating outward, embedding itself into his bones, into his very soul. It was relentless, ceaseless, unbearable.

A laugh broke through the fog of agony.

"-Ha-haha holy shit, one of these for two years' worth of salary is insane..." 

And Shinichi dared to look.

The monster held up a lump of flesh, the light catching it just enough for Shinichi to recognize it, even through the haze of pain.

It was a kidney.

His kidney.

Shinichi couldn't hold it in any longer.

He threw up.

His throat burned, a sharp, acidic sting as stomach bile surged up, but it couldn't escape.

The gag—tight, unforgiving—kept the vomit trapped in his mouth, choking him. He was drowning in his own sickness, his body heaving with each unsuccessful attempt to breathe, the putrid taste crawling up his nose.

"Ugh—fucking disgusting," the man sneered, his voice dripping with revulsion. A psychopath. That’s all he was. He cursed under his breath. "Ah, shit, I scratched the kidney. Well, it’s a good thing we're just practicing."

A sick smile curled up at the edges of his lips.

"Not like I can’t try again. There’s always two kidneys with each reset- aw, fuck, if you’re gonna suffocate to death, at least let me get the other one out first!" The man carved out the remaining organ, before his body started stitching itself back closed.

"Hmm... 28 minutes and 32 seconds..." he sighed. "That dealer bastard said he'd be here at 8pm sharp, we only have about ten hours to perfect this." 

He dumped the kidneys into a glass canister, the first of his collection, the first of more to come. He needed to perfect the extraction, else it wouldn't sell. And with each perfected extraction, meant he could harvest more with each reset. He picked the scalpel back up, beginning the next round of harvesting.

The blade slid across the surface of the skin, blood pooling as his flesh tore open. 

Shinichi's body felt like it was coming apart at the seams. His skin burned, his insides screamed, and every single breath felt like a jagged shard scraping against his throat. The room spun, his vision blurring in and out of focus as the monster continued his grotesque work.

His body shook, trembling with the relentless torture, but there was something in the back of his mind, a sound, distant yet clear.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

The faintest trace of warmth in the sea of agony. His mother’s voice, so soothing, so familiar—he didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was the delirium, or maybe it was his own mind trying to shield him from the pain. But there she was.

Her voice was soft, a lullaby he remembered from his childhood, her words slipping into the chaos of his thoughts. He could feel her presence, a shadowy figure beside him, its fingers brushing through his hair like how his mother used to when he was little. The child leaned into the touch, soaking in the tender embrace.

"You make me happy, when skies are gray..."

Pain still raged, but for a fleeting moment, peace slipped through. The shadow settled onto the table, just beside his head, just like how his mother did as she tucked him into bed. He could almost smell the scent of her perfume, feel the softness of her arms, as if she was really there.

But then, as the world around him continued to dissolve into sharp edges of agony, her voice faltered, as if the connection was slipping away from him.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you..."

The world grew darker, colder. The pain began to cloud his thoughts, and his mind started to shut down, but before it completely overtook him, her voice broke through one last time, clear and gentle, as if it was a final gift she could offer him.

The shadow pressed its forehead against his temple, mimicking the gentle goodnight kiss his mother once gave him.

"So please... don’t take my sunshine away..."

Goodnight, Shinichi. Sweet dreams.

Genesis Day 2, Death Counter: ???

Manabe Junji took his gloves off. He had long perfected each organ extraction method, filling every single glass canister with his trophies. Each a demonstration of his hard work. He had filled the cooler box with the requested organs from the dealer he'd contacted. 

A pair Kidneys, a pair of Corneas, a Liver, and a Heart. 

All to be sent for testing before the full payment was to be received. Fifteen minutes to 8pm sharp. He tore off the poncho, having been stained brown and red from all the dried blood. The floor was slick with blood, a gruesome tapestry of flesh and bone. Stray organs, half-dissected limbs—remnants of his victim lay discarded, unceremonious.

The kid laid motionless on the table, as if dead to the world. The raincoat he'd been wearing had long been torn to shreds and dyed red from his previous chainsaw mutilation, he stank of metal, sweat, and vomit. He hadn't bothered to replace it with a new one, since he figured that cutting him open for his organs would ruin it again.

But since he was done, he guess he could do that kid a favor and wash him up. Junji took the restrains off the boy, before dragging him into the rundown bathroom next door. The boy had barely reacted, barely walked himself into the room. The man hosed him down before replacing the shredded plastic with a new raincoat, still dripping with blood tainted water. He threw out the old gag for a clean rag, the sour stench of puke disgusted him

The boy barely reacted, almost like a mannequin, he hadn't even attempted to escape even with his unbounded arms and legs. It pleased the man that it had made his life way more easier. 

He redid the bindings, returning the kid to the table, still soaking wet. 

Bam-Bam-Bam-!

The metal gates of the warehouse rattled. It seems his 8pm had arrived.

"-ah fuck, if you catch a cold that's on your shitty immune system." He scooped up the cooler box and left the room. The anticipation buzzed in his veins. In just a few minutes, he would receive more money than he had ever earned in the same amount of time he slaved away.  

Swinging open the heavy gates, he was greeted by the dealer he'd arranged to meet.

The man in front of him was dressed in a black suit, an ominous vibe surrounding him. He carried a briefcase, protecting it from any fingerprints with a white clothed glove.

"The down payment in cash of $300,000 has been all stored in this case. Please hand over the organs immediately, we will be inspecting them for any deformities." The dealer opened the briefcase, revealing stacks of crisp banknotes, more than Junji had ever laid eyes on.

A cold smile spread across his face. This was the payoff. He handed over the cooler box without a second thought, excitement surging through him.

"Our scientists will verify the authenticity and quality of the organs. If everything checks out, you’ll receive the full payment. I’ll contact you shortly." The man in black took hold of the cooler box with an air of finality. Without another word, he disappeared into the forest, as quickly and quietly as he had arrived, vanishing into the shadows of the night.

Manabe Junji stood there, stunned. He hadn't expected the transaction to go so smoothly. Hell, he hadn’t realized just how easy it was to profit from human remains. If he’d known this from the start, he could’ve made millions off his previous victims.

He returned back to the room, packing the case into his haversack. The kid was still stuck in a daze, staring at nothing in the room. He didn't feel bad, no that kid was just a cash cow waiting to be milked. He lived in a dog eat dog world, it was only natural to take what he needed to feed himself.

Leaving the warehouse, he'd decided to treat himself for his hard work tonight. 

Genesis Day 3, Death Counter: 47

Chapter Text

Genesis Day 3, Death Counter: 47

[violence warning, read at your own expense, skip this chapter if you must]

He had splurged—a little. Who wouldn’t, after making three hundred thousand dollars overnight? The whole night had been a blur, a whirlwind of excess: casinos, high-end restaurants, the red-light district. He indulged in pleasures that no average salary could afford—liquor, wagyu beef, designer brands, gold jewelry, and reckless gambling. For the first time, he could have it all. And he'd never have to crawl back to a nine-to-five again.

Manabe Junji stumbled through the warehouse doors, swaying on unsteady feet. He hadn't been gone long, but he’d already burned through thousands like it was nothing. The whiskey sat thick on his breath, its warmth numbing his throat, his mind still buzzing with the intoxicating high of power and wealth.

“…Fuck… Once I get the full payment… I can finally quit.” He muttered, words slurred, the alcohol thick on his tongue. The buzz dulled his senses, but the thought of freedom kept him upright.

Pulling a chair next to the table the kid was tied to, he whipped out his phone. A mysterious email he'd received ten minutes ago read:

"Expect a call at 04:30."

"Shit... any minute now... should've stayed sober for this..." he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how that man had gotten his email—much less his phone number.

A shiver crawled up his spine. It wasn’t until he felt eyes on him that he realized—The kid was staring.

Junji scowled, kicking the table hard enough to jolt the kid’s head to the side.

"Urgh... fucking creepy."

That shadow was still there. The one that had fooled him into believing it was his mother. The one that had whispered comfort through the storm.

Shinichi’s throat tightened.

He wanted to ask—what was it? How had it appeared? Why did it seem to care?

The figure stood behind the drunken man, its limbs too long, its form just human enough to be unsettling. It had no face—only a hollow space where features should be. Yet, it loomed over him, silent, watchful. A predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The killer seemed to sense Shinichi’s stare. With a grunt, he kicked the table away, muttering something under his breath—words Shinichi couldn’t quite make out.

Brrt!-brrt! Brrt!-brrt!

His phone buzzed.

The man’s demeanor shifted instantly. Excitement flickered in his eyes, a smirk curling on his lips. Without hesitation, he answered, tapping the screen to put it on speaker. A calm voice spoke,

"...Manabe Junji. Unfortunately, we are unable to complete the final transaction. The organs you have provided us were examined and had came up negative in countless of our tests. We are unable to determine it's authenticity."

Manabe Junji.

That was his name.

The moment Shinichi heard it, something clicked—a distant familiarity gnawed at the edges of his mind. His thoughts raced, sifting through scattered memories, desperately trying to grasp where he had heard that name before.

It wasn’t just any name. It was important.

And now, he had to remember why.

Junji froze.

The dealer knew his name.

He didn’t know what else the man knew about him—and that uncertainty made his stomach twist. His grip tightened around the phone as his mind scrambled for an explanation. How? How the hell did they know his name?

And then it hit him. He’d almost missed what the dealer had said next.

The transaction was cancelled.

His money wasn’t coming.

A slow, burning rage bubbled up inside him, boiling over in an instant. His jaw clenched, his breath came out sharp and ragged.

They weren’t going to pay him. And that pissed him off.

"The fuck do you mean you can't complete the transaction?! Those are real human organs—I ripped them out myself! You scamming piece of shit!"

"—sigh— For a police detective, you sure have a filthy mouth now, Manabe-keiji."

Shinichi's breath hitched. His body tensed, his pulse pounding in his ears.

A detective.

That fucking bastard was a detective.

It all clicked in an instant—why the police were always too late, why the evidence never led anywhere, why the killer moved like a ghost through the cracks of the law. He wasn’t just evading the investigation. He was leading it.

Shinichi's stomach churned. He’d seen that name before. In the papers. In reports. Manabe Junji, the lead investigator on the very case he was orchestrating from the shadows. 

A laugh bubbled up his throat, strangled and disbelieving.

This wasn’t just corruption.

This was betrayal.

Rage surged through him, raw and unrelenting. Anger. Hatred. Despair.

Anger for what that bastard had done to him.

Anger for every victim who never got justice.

Anger for the mockery made of the very system meant to stop monsters like him.

His vision blurred at the edges, heart hammering like a war drum. His breaths came ragged, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached. Shinichi yanked, tugging at his restraints, biting down on the gag that shut him up.

Justice? What a joke.

The man who should’ve been upholding it had been the one ripping it apart.

Junji took a deep breath, calming himself. The dealer knew who he was, that he was a detective. He could ruin him. The voice over the phone now held his life on the line. The voice continued to speak,

"-to think that it was a detective would indulge in organ trafficking. So how about this, I have an offer for you instead."

The rage still simmered beneath his skin, but desperation quickly took its place. He couldn't afford to be exposed. Couldn’t let everything he built crumble.

"...a-alright, I'm listening." His voice wavered, throat dry.

A pause.

Then, the voice on the other end chuckled.

"Hm. Why not work with us instead? Become an insider within the police? If you accept, we’re willing to grant you forty percent of that canceled transaction.”

Another pause.

“What do you say, Manabe-keiji? A second chance?”

It was a perfect deal. Not only he'd be able to continue his killing spree, he'd get paid for it as well. Yes, he'd wanted to quit initially, but without the full payment, he wouldn't be able to retire rich. This was the best possible outcome.

He turned around to face the kid, intending to see the priceless look of horror in realizing that the man who ripped him apart would be getting away with everything. Only to realize,

The gag on his face was gone.

Shinichi kept struggling. Struggling against the ropes that tied him down, his arms and legs burned raw with the friction of the rope that bit into his skin. But he wouldn't stop. 

No one was coming to save him.

Not the police.

Not his mother.

Not his father.

No one.

That bastard was going to walk free.

That monster was going to keep doing this.

And the only person who could stop him… was him.

His teeth sank deeper into the towel gag, his jaw aching from the pressure. He needed it off. He needed to scream, to spit venom, to damn that monster to hell with his own voice. His jaw ached, his teeth digging into the filthy gag that muffled his screams. He needed it off. He needed to scream. He needed to spit fury, to let the rage festering in his chest explode into the world.

Get it off

Get it OFF

GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF OF ME

The command resonated through his skull. The shadow started moving towards him, wrapping its hands around his heads before untying the cloth that silenced him. 

He could finally speak again. 

The man turned around, as though in realization. His smirked dropped as he saw the gag now dropped to the floor.

Shinichi felt something inside him crack, shatter.

Malice clawed its way up his throat.

Wrath roared through his veins, blistering hot.

Bloodlust. Pure, violent, unforgiving.

So Shinichi did the one thing he'd wanted to do the whole time.

He screamed.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU"

thud.

The phone fell to the ground.

And so did the killer's arm.

For half a second, there was silence—just the wet slap of severed flesh meeting concrete. Then a shriek tore through the warehouse, raw and inhuman—a sound of pure, primal agony. It started as a strangled gasp, sharp and high-pitched, before escalating into a keening wail, the kind that sent ice down the spine and curdled the blood.

Blood gushed in pulsing waves, soaking the floor beneath him. The man crumpled, his remaining hand clamping down on the mess of torn muscle and splintered bone at his shoulder. He tried to crawl, legs kicking uselessly against the slick ground, smearing red in frantic streaks.

“FUCK—what the fuck—how the fuck—shit, shit, SHIT SHIT SHIT—!”

Shinichi could barely process what had just happened.

One moment the shadow had been right beside him, the next, he watched as it lunged towards the man, before ripping his arm clean off of him.

"...Manabe-keiji? Are you still ther-" crunch.

The phone cracked with a sickening crunch as the shadow stomped on it, grinding it into splinters beneath its foot.

It returned almost instantly, drifting back to his side like a loyal hound. Silent. Obedient. It made quick work of his restraints, helping him sit up. His body resisted—muscles stiff, limbs heavy with the ache of prolonged stillness.

Nothing he couldn’t fix.

Reaching for a scalpel from the tray, lifting it to his neck and, sliced open his carotid artery.

Warmth spilled down his skin. Then, just as quickly, his body stitched itself back together. The tension melted, every ache and cramp dissolving like they had never been there at all.

Shinichi exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he finally pushed himself off the metal table.

Better. 

The boy moved forward, slow and deliberate. His bare feet pressed against the bloodstained floor, the dried crust cracking under each step. The cold bit at his skin, but he barely noticed.

The man—once so terrifying, so untouchable—was nothing now. He lay slumped on the ground, cradling the ragged stump where his arm had been. His body trembled with each gasping sob, his words spilling out in incoherent, desperate murmurs.

He was pleading. Begging.

Tears and snot ran down his face, mixing with the sweat and blood. He shook his head, eyes wide, voice cracking as he whimpered, "Please—please don’t kill me—"

How pathetic.

This was the man who had held Japan in fear.

The man who had dehumanized him.

The man who had broken him apart—shattered him—and others, for no reason at all.

Shinichi’s mind was a raging sea, thoughts crashing, colliding, thundering—leaving no room for silence.

Breathe in. Out. In. Out. In-out. In-out. IN-OUT.

He was drowning.

His body moved before his mind caught up.

His arm swung down, rage surging through him, muscles tensing like a coiled spring snapping loose. The scalpel, clenched in a white-knuckled grip, tore into the man’s thigh—flesh parting like wet paper.

The man shrieked in agony, cursing and swearing from the pain. But Shinichi couldn't hear a thing. 

He ripped the scalpel down, slicing open the man's leg, drawing out more screams and sobbing. Flesh and blood leaked out

Shinichi couldn't stop himself.

He stepped forward, face unreadable, breath shallow. The scalpel rose—then came down again.

Into the man's face.

stab.

stab.

stab.

stab.

stab.

He couldn't stop.

No-

He wouldn't stop.

Shinichi felt dampness dripping down his face. Tears starting leaking with each plunge. He'd started sobbing, the tears blurring his vision. The face that once haunted his nightmares now a mess of red.

He couldn’t hear the man anymore. No pleading. No breath. Nothing.

The scalpel slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the blood-slick floor. His hands-shaking, were now stained dark red, they hung uselessly at his sides.

And- oh god.

He killed him.

He was a murderer. 

That man wouldn't come back, he wasn't immortal like him, inhuman.

And when he looked back at the man, suddenly he saw himself laying there on the table as his insides spilled all over.

His tears wouldn't stop, suffocating him, drowning him in his own guilt.

The room tilted around him. He couldn’t focus. His vision blurred, hot, wet streaks soaking his face.

He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t stop crying. His body shook violently—his hands trembling like leaves in the wind.

It felt like the ground beneath him was splitting open, ready to swallow him whole.

The funny thing was, he couldn't help but feel that the man had deserved it.

In the haze of his panic, the shadow appeared beside him, like a dark, looming presence in the corner of his vision. It didn’t speak. It didn’t need to. Slowly, gently, the shadow curled around him, enclosing him like a protective, silent cocoon.

He flinched at first—his body tense, resisting. But the warmth that spread through him, strange and unfamiliar, settled him.

It felt… strangely safe.

The tears slowed, his breath gradually finding a rhythm again, like he was being held up by something far stronger than himself. The shadow’s embrace wasn’t just physical. It was deep, like it was pulling him back from the edge, whispering, You’re safe now.

And somehow, despite everything, Shinichi found himself leaning into it. His body shook less now. The sobs didn’t come in waves—they were quiet, broken gasps instead.

The shadow held him there. Silent. Unyielding.

Genesis Day 3, Death Counter: 48, Kill Count: 1

He hadn't realized he'd fallen into a dreamless sleep, only awakening peacefully, still cradled in the arms of the shadow figure. Shinichi stirred, shifting from its embrace. His movements were stiff as he pushed himself upright from the cold floor beneath them.

The body still laid there. Dead. His face disfigured beyond recognition. Shinichi felt nausea overwhelm him, resisting the urge to throw up. Hunger clawed at his insides, a deep, aching hollowness. His throat was parched—burning with dryness—and every inch of him felt brittle, like he could crumble with one wrong step.

The first thing he did, was made his way out of the room made prison. 

Twisting the doorknob, revealed a passage way. He remember flashes of this corridor, a flickering light, peeling walls, a run down bathroom next to the room he'd been trapped in. He pushed it's door open, before scrambling over to the sink. The faucet groaned as he twisted it, water sputtering out in weak, tainted spurts—brown and cloudy from years of neglect.

But Shinichi didn't care. 

He dropped to his knees, shoved his head under the stream, and drank. Mouth open, gasping, gulping down the dirty water like it was salvation, finally quenching his thirst and silencing his starvation. He cleaned off any remaining blood stains, scrubbing off the red and brown from his arms and body. It didn't help rid the scent of iron and rot.

Returning to the room, he searched the shelves and cabinets for his clothes, only to be left in disappointment. The canisters of organs irked him, but he ignored it, what he couldn't ignore, was the stench of the actively degrading body left discarded on the floor. At the very back of the cabinet, he found one last unopened pack of those child-sized raincoats—the same type he had on now. This one was clean, unstained. He tore off the old one and slipped into the fresh plastic quietly.

Shinichi turned, spotting the shadow still sat obediently where he had previously passed out.

“U-uhm…” Shinichi hesitated, stepping closer. “What… are you?”

The shadow tilted its head, acknowledging the question, but said nothing. Tentatively, Shinichi reached out, placing a small hand on its arm. It responded instantly—placing its hand atop his head in return, patting him with a slow, gentle rhythm.

"Oh- okay, t-that's... hm" His voice trembled, but the gesture made him feel safe. Safer than he’d felt in days. "could you help me move him out?" 

And that seemed to trigger a command. The shadow rose smoothly to its feet and walked over to the corpse, effortlessly lifting the body and slinging it over its shoulder like it weighed nothing. That confirmed it. It listened to him. It was his.

His guardian. His monster. His shadow.

"I'll just call you shadow, since that's what you've been in my head... let's go." They moved out of the room, walking down the corridor, before descending a flight of stairs. Shinichi could finally see it, the entrance of the warehouse. Pushing open the rusty gates, he finally made it outside.

It felt… surreal.

The sky was still blue.

The grass, still green.

Birds chirped in the distance. A breeze rustled the trees.

The world had kept moving—

Like nothing ever happened inside that warehouse.

He made his way around the building, back to where it had all started. The wired trap. He rounded the corner, and saw his bag still laying on the floor, left behind. His bicycle was gone, nowhere to be found.

Shinichi rummaged through it's contents, fishing out his phone from his belongings. He powered it on.

Monday - 11:34am - 23 July 20XX

17 missed calls from Ran

8 missed calls from Agasa-Hakase

5 missed calls from Mom

2 missed calls from Dad

It had only been three days.

Just three.

Seventy-two hours ago, he was just a kid. A kid who dreamed of becoming a detective

Now?

Now there was blood on his hands. A body behind him.

And something in him that had changed.

It only took three days to turn him into a murderer- the very enemy of all detectives.

Three days to take everything he was, everything his father once stood for, and twist it into something he didn’t recognize.

He felt his eyes burn, vision blurring as fresh tears welled up again. His throat tightened.

No.

He could fix this.

He had to fix this.

There was no other choice.

With trembling hands, Shinichi gathered what little he had—his belongings, any traces of him, into his bag with mechanical motions, barely registering what he touched. He slung it over his shoulder, the weight of it nothing compared to the one in his chest.

Shadow waited silently, like a loyal specter, before moving to follow him. The dead body still dragged along in its grip.

They left the room behind. The warehouse. The blood. The smell clung to him like a second skin.

The forest swallowed them in silence. Branches tangled overhead, turning daylight into a dim, murky haze. His bare feet scraped against rocks and sticks, sharp thorns biting into his skin.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t stop.

Each step felt heavier than the last. The guilt was a weight pressing into his spine, settling into his bones.

They walked for what felt like hours. Days, even. Shinichi lost track of time, the sun shifting lazily through the canopy above as they ventured deeper and deeper.

Only when his legs finally buckled—too sore, too raw, too exhausted—did he allow himself to stop. His breath came in ragged gasps.

He turned to Shadow, voice hoarse and quiet:

“Shadow… dig a hole. Please.”

The shadow moved without hesitation, its movements smooth and deliberate as it dug into the forest floor. The sound of the earth being torn apart seemed so much louder than it should have been. Each scrape of the ground, each shovel of dirt, echoed in Shinichi’s mind, as if it was digging into his own chest.

They threw the body in, along with the phone that had been crushed and the scalpel he'd used to murder him with.  

Shinichi stood there, his feet rooted to the dirt, unable to look away. The body—his victim, the man who had haunted him for so long—was still limp and broken. He was a memory now, a nightmare turned real, discarded like all the other things he had tried to forget.

Shadow moved wordlessly, shoveling dirt over the body, its movements slow and methodical, as if it understood the weight of what they were doing. Each scoop of earth seemed to drag Shinichi deeper into his own thoughts, pulling him further from the world he once knew.

He stood there, frozen, watching the body disappear under layers of dirt.

The phone and scalpel were gone now—swallowed by the earth, like they never existed at all. Shinichi’s hands shook as he picked up the last few loose handfuls of dirt, his fingers slipping through the soil. It was all he could do to keep moving, to keep covering it up, like maybe the weight of the dirt would bury the horrible truth along with the body.

He shoved it deeper, his mind screaming at him to stop—don’t stop, don’t acknowledge it, just keep burying it. He didn’t want to look at the earth once it was done. Didn’t want to see that it was final, that it was over.

No one will ever know.

Shadow carried him back this time. 

It had picked him up before leaping across the forest trees. Shinichi didn’t mind. In fact, he was relieved. The weight of the walk, the slow trudging through the forest, was too much. Each step back felt like it was dragging him deeper into the quicksand of his own mind. The fact that Shadow was carrying him was the only comfort he could find. It meant he didn’t have to face the world just yet.

The silence of the night seemed to wrap around him, suffocating and comforting at once. By the time they found a road to follow, the sky had already fallen into complete darkness. Shinichi looked up, a deep sense of relief washing over him. No one would see him like this, not in the dead of night. His heart slowed as he realized that if he'd been seen in broad daylight, someone would have definitely called the police. A dirty kid in a raincoat, barefoot, disheveled—it would have been enough to get the authorities swarming.

"That way, Shadow."

He pointed it in the relative direction of his home, just as it took off again. He was going to make it back. They soared over rooftops and ducked between alleyways, always avoiding the bright lights, the chatter of nightlife, the occasional passing car. The world felt distant, like a dream he wasn’t part of anymore. He clung tighter to the shadow’s form, letting the rhythm of its movements lull him. He was going to make it back.

They'd made it back to Beika Town, District 2, Block 21. His home. Standing outside, everything felt unchanged, normal. It had only been three days after all. The only thing that had changed was him. 

The first thing he did when he entered the house, was take a long hot shower. The bathroom lights flickered on as he stepped inside. He peeled off the raincoat, sparing a glance in the mirror. 

Nothing.

No bruises. No cuts. No missing limbs. No signs of the chains or the table or the man he—

There was still bits of crusted blood left over, but no traces of the horror he'd went through.

He grabbed the soap.

And he scrubbed.

He scrubbed at his arms like they were covered in filth that couldn’t be seen—rubbing harder, and harder, until the skin turned red, then raw.

He dragged his nails across his palms, trying to scrape out the feeling—that feeling—of blood soaked into the lines of his hands.

He could still feel it.

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

No matter how clean they looked, he could still feel it. The blood. The scalpel. The warmth of a life leaving someone’s body because of him.

He made his way to the kitchen after his shower, scavenging through the cabinets for anything to eat. A cup noodle. Easy and quick enough to prepare. He almost hadn't heard his doorbell ringing, making his way to his front door.

He leaned forward and peeked through the peephole.

It was Agasa-hakase. Shinichi opened the door.

“Shinichi! You’re alright!”

The door had barely opened before Agasa-hakase rushed in, arms half-outstretched, eyes wide with concern.

“You haven’t been answering your calls,” the old man continued, fussing over him. “I stopped by yesterday, but you weren’t home. I—I was starting to worry something terrible had happened!”

Shinichi just stood there, frozen under the weight of his concern. 

“I saw your lights were finally on tonight,” Agasa went on, voice softer now, “so I took the chance to come check on you.”

The boy almost crumbled. 

This—

This was normal.

This was real.

“H-Hakase... I’m alright,” he forced out, voice barely above a whisper. “I just... fell sick. Slept through the weekend, that’s all.” He faked a cough

The professor frowned, but let it go. 

"Get some rest Shinichi." He sighed, turning around intending to leave. "Oh and before I forget, give your parents and Ran-kun a call. She came by yesterday." The old man disappeared behind his front gate, turning into his own house next door.

It felt... so normal.

Like it was all just a bad dream. Like nothing had happened over the weekend.

And Shinichi knew that if he just kept up this life—this lie—

Then maybe, just maybe...

Nothing would’ve happened that weekend.

Genesis Day 4, Death Counter: 48, Kill Count: 1

Genesis Arc : End

Chapter Text

"...onan-kun?...conan-kun wake up! It'd dinner time!"

The boy jolted awake. He’d fallen asleep at his desk, halfway through his homework. Ran stood beside him, a look of concern on her face as she gently shook his shoulder.

It had been a long time since he last dreamt of the warehouse. It wasn’t a nightmare that haunted him anymore—just a distant memory, one that now threatened to resurface.

"Ah, sorry, Ran-neechan... I must've dozed off." He rubbed his eyes blearily, then stood up and followed her to the dining table.

"Kogoro-ojisan's back already?"

"Mhm. He's waiting for us at the table."

Sure enough, there he was—the old man sitting at the table, eyes glued to the flickering old television, the news playing in the background.

"Oiya, brat. Finally awake?" he grunted, barely looking away from the screen. "Come sit and eat. I've got something to tell you."

Conan and Ran settled down, scooping rice from the cooker and passing dishes around as Mouri continued.

"Megure-keibu wants me to bring you to the station tomorrow. Said Takagi has a few questions about that Mariko-san case."

"Hai..." Conan mumbled, a bit tense now.

"I'll pick you up after school, so don’t go running off with the rest of the brats, got it?"

"Yes, ojisan..." he muttered, already thinking ahead.

They continued eating dinner, with Ran and the old man occasionally chatting about school and other light topics—nothing that required Conan to chime in. He let their voices blur into background noise, his mind wandering elsewhere.

“Conan, you must be really sleepy, huh?” Ran chuckled, glancing over at him.

“Huh?” he blinked, pulling himself back to the present.

She smiled warmly, beginning to clear the table. “Usually you’d be watching the news with tou-san, but today you’re totally zoned out.”

Conan gave a small, forced smile, not quite ready to break the silence in his head.

“How about you turn in for the night? You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.” Ran leaned over and booped him on the cheek, her playful gesture making him flinch—just enough to remind him of his real worries beneath the surface.

"Then, goodnight Ran-neechan." Clearing his portion of the dishes, the weight in his chest felt heavier as he headed toward the bedroom, every step reminding him of the secrets he couldn’t shake, the ones he wasn’t ready to face.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to Takagi tomorrow. The thought of it made his stomach twist, uncertainty gnawing at him. What questions would Takagi ask? What truths might be unearthed, digging into wounds that had long since sealed themselves shut?

"Huh? Where's Genta?" Conan placed his bag onto the table. Class was just about to start and they were missing a member of the Detective Boys.

"-Ah, Conan-kun... actually, Genta isn't feeling well? So he's taking a few weeks off school." Mitsuhiko explained, turning towards him from his seat

Conan nodded. That made sense. He couldn’t help but think that it was probably Genta who had stumbled upon that room. Genta, and likely Haibara too. Haibara could handle damage control—making sure the others weren’t exposed to the horrors Genta had witnessed.

"Oh right, before I forget, Occhan's gonna pick me up after school. So I won't be able to go home with you guys, or hangout either."

"Aww, that’s okay, Conan-kun," Ayumi said with a bright smile, though if you looked closely, there was a faint trace of concern in her eyes. "We can go home together tomorrow!"

He smiled in acknowledgment.

His phone buzzed, a message being received. Conan slipped it out of his pocket before checking what it read:

From Hattori:

> Call me after school!! I gotta talk to ya!

Welp, guess that meant one more person to worry about.

"Yo, Hattori. You wanted to talk to me?" Conan waved goodbye to his friends as they left the schoolyard. He stood at the front gate, phone pressed to his ear as it finally connected.

“Oi, Kudo! Kazuha’s old man mentioned there’s some big ol’ case brewin’ in Tokyo, yeah? Thought I’d swing by an’ see what all the fuss’s about!”

Conan sighed. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Hattori’s presence—it was just... with someone as sharp as him around, Conan wasn't sure how much he'd end up revealing just by standing next to the guy.

“Oi! Ain’t ya glad yer best friend’s comin’ to visit?” Hattori teased. Guess he heard the sigh.

“Where are you right now?”

“Excited to see me, huh? I’m right outside the police headquarters~!”

“W–what the—how’d you get here so fast?”

“Skipped school, caught the first train up here! Easy-peasy!”

“You’re unbelievable… Fine, I’ll be there soon with Occhan.”

“Aight~ Don’t keep me waitin’, Kudo!” 

The call ended just as a taxi pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down to reveal the old detective Mouri, gesturing for Conan to hop in.

He sighed again. Guess he'd be seeing Hattori real soon… at the precinct.

"Hey Ku—Conan! Hello, Occhan!" Hattori greeted them at the entrance of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters, waving like he hadn’t just skipped town. The Osakan carried a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in a casual outfit that totally didn't look like he was skipping school right now.

He wore a goofy grin on his face—so wide that Conan couldn’t tell whether he was happier to see him... or to dive headfirst into a brand-new case.

"Ah, Osaka brat. Did Conan call you over?" The old man grumbled.

"Haha—nah, heard from a detective back in Osaka 'bout a real serious case goin’ on here, so I figured I’d come snoop ‘round a bit!"

They began walking into the building, flashing their visitor passes as they passed through the reception area. The moment they crossed the threshold, a chill settled over Conan—a peculiar coldness, like the walls themselves were watching.

Nothing in the building had changed… and yet, it felt wrong. Off.

He followed in silence, letting Hattori and Mouri’s casual conversation guide his steps as they moved down the long corridor.

But his quiet didn’t go unnoticed.

“Actually,” Mouri said, glancing back at the boy, “Takagi wanted to talk to Conan about another case. That’s why I brought him here in the first place.” He sighed, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Issat so? Why don'tcha tell me 'bout this other case Conan?" Hattori grinned intending to strike up a conversation with him.

"If you don't mind, Hattori-kun, could you look after the brat during his interview. I've got to speak with Megure-keibu."

"Wait wha-"

"Takagi will be waiting for you in the third consultation room on the right. For now, I gotta go-" The man sped up, speeding off in the direction of Megure's office, leaving the two boys behind.

Hattori sighed, "Nawh why'd he have to leave me?...Gah-Alright Kudo, tell me 'bout why Takagi wants ta interrogate ya." He leaned down.

"Not an interrogation, Hattori." The shrunken teen pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his oversized glasses up. "It's unrelated to the case you probably heard about, so don't bother with it. The culprits' already been caught."

“Oh yeah?” Hattori raised an eyebrow. “Then what’s he want with you again?”

Conan hesitated.

He hadn’t told Hattori about the bug he planted on the old man last night. He didn’t know how his friend would react—or worse, if Hattori would start pressing about that case instead. He could get by on half-truths. Lies by omission. Just enough to keep the questions at bay.

“…So what exactly did you hear about the new case?”

“Ain’t much, really. Toyama-keiji just said it might be tied to some organ harvestin’ ring or somethin’ like that.”

“Mm. Figures.” Conan nodded, carefully neutral. “Far as I know, we were looped into a case that ended with the culprit bein’ caught at some warehouse. The kids went back the next day… and now we’re here.”

Sorry, Hattori.

He wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to lay it all out. But he was scared.

“Gotcha…” Hattori muttered, eyeing him with thinly veiled suspicion.

He knew it was a lie. Hattori always knew.

They were best friends—ride or die. And Conan hated lying to him.

They'd reach the room by the time they finished chatting. He knew it was just a simple interview, but the task felt daunting. What if he messes up? How could he cover for Shadow? What if Hattori figures out my bluffs? What if- 

"Oi Conan, the door's open already." Hattori held the door open, staring at him from above. Takagi stood inside, holding onto document papers, he'd also stopped and starting looking at him with worry. 

The room was small and plainly furnished, just a table and three chairs. A cup of orange juice sat on one side, two steaming mugs of coffee on the other. Takagi must’ve set them out ahead of time. He always remembered Conan liked orange juice.

Conan forced a smile—the same practiced, cheerful grin he’d used a thousand times to fool the world into thinking he was just a kid. He could do this.

"Hello, Takagi-keiji! Kogoro-ojisan said you wanted to talk to me?" He put on his best cheerful voice.

"A-ah, hey Conan-kun. Hattori-kun too—thanks for coming." Takagi gestured to the chairs. "Come have a seat. I only have a few questions, then I’ll get you both back to Mouri-tantei."

Takagi’s warmth was as familiar as ever. It almost made Conan drop his guard—almost.

He slid into his seat, hands wrapping around the glass of orange juice. He took a small sip. His mouth was dry—not from thirst, but from the storm quietly brewing in his chest.

"Can you walk me through what you did, step by step, once you got inside?" Takagi laid a blank sheet of paper for both him and himself, passing a pencil over for him to use just in case. "You can draw it out if it's too complicated."

"No that's okay." He pushed the paper aside, "Initially, Mitsuhiko was the one who led us into the warehouse. I knew we should have kept running through the forest, we could have lost her easily... Then we got into this crate, it was big enough to hide us all. But Mariko-san began smashing them all open to find us."

Takagi looked at him in concern, "That must have been really scary Conan."

The boy gave a nod, staring into his cup of orange juice. "I told Genta to protect the others." taking a sip of juice, he carefully examined their faces. "And then i went out to stop her." Takagi looked confused, with Hattori simply nodding along.

Takagi looked at him, brow furrowed. "Actually, the kids mentioned you were without your usual soccer balls. I was wondering... how exactly did you manage to fend her off? I mean, she was an adult, and you’re just a kid..."

Conan paused. His heart thudded in his chest. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth either. How could he? "Ah… uh... I tripped her?"

"pfft!- is'sat a question or a statement?" Hattori flicked him in the head playfully, but there was a sharpness in his eyes.

Takagi remained quiet for a moment, eyeing him carefully. He opened his mouth as if about to speak but hesitated. Conan tried not to notice the weight in the air. He sipped the orange juice again, but this time, it did nothing to settle the dryness in his throat. His smile never wavered, but inside, everything was unraveling piece by piece.

Please don’t ask anything else.

Takagi tapped the corner of the paper with his pen, hesitating before he looked up again.

"There’s… one more thing, Conan-kun."

Conan tilted his head innocently. "Hm? What is it?"

Takagi didn’t meet his eyes at first. Instead, he flipped a page of his notebook, as though buying time to organize his words. "Truthfully... we interviewed Mariko-san after the fact. Her statement was... intriguing. She mentioned the possible involvement of a third person. So I’d like to ask you again... you were alone, right?"

And there it was.

The question sliced through the air, cold and heavy, a blow that hit harder than he expected. His fingers tightened around the glass, the coldness of it not quite enough to calm the rising panic in his chest.

Takagi didn’t wait for Conan to respond. Instead, he reached into his folder and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the table. It was a close-up shot of a woman’s neck, the bruise dark and fresh, visible in sharp contrast against her pale skin.

Conan’s heart skipped a beat. He forced his face to remain neutral, but his throat felt tight, as if the air had been sucked from the room. The bruise. He knew exactly where it came from. Shadow.

Takagi’s voice was calm, but there was a trace of curiosity in his eyes.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen this yet, Conan-kun, but this bruise was found on Mariko-san’s neck. It’s a strangulation mark. The kind of thing a person would leave if they were trying to choke someone. But the strangest part is… it’s not from a normal grip.” Takagi’s eyes flickered to Conan’s face. "It looks like someone might’ve been using a different technique."

Conan’s fingers tightened around his glass. His throat dried up again, his heart hammering against his ribs. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the photo, but the image burned into his mind. Shadow’s mark. The one no one could recognize as his.

“I…” Conan’s voice cracked for a second, but he caught it just in time. “I don’t know anything about that bruise. I was alone when I went after Mariko-san, and the other kids were all hiding. And it was so dark, I could barely see what was happening” His words came out rushed, too quick, too nervous. Please don’t press me on this.

Takagi didn’t seem convinced, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked back at Conan. “I see. But this bruise…” He gestured to the photo again. “It’s just not something a child would leave behind, Conan-kun. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

Conan felt his chest tighten. He wanted to scream, to make the truth disappear, but there was no way out. Not anymore. His mind raced, trying to think of something—anything—to explain it. He had to lie. He had to cover for Shadow. But how?

“Maybe…” Conan’s voice faltered, and he quickly added, “Maybe she fell. I didn’t see everything, but... I’m sure she could’ve hurt herself somehow.”

Takagi remained silent, his eyes fixed on Conan with quiet suspicion. Even to Conan, the words felt wrong—off-key, unnatural. But what else could he say? Shadow was his summoned monster-guardian-creature thing? How was he supposed to explain that?

A heavy silence lingered between them, thick with unspoken questions. Takagi shifted in his seat, his gaze never leaving Conan’s face. “You’re sure you were alone?”

Before Conan could respond, Hattori, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward. His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Oi, Takagi,” Hattori interrupted, giving a mock yawn. “You’re makin’ Conan all anxious. C’mon, the kid’s tellin’ ya the truth, right? Ain’t no need to dig so deep, the murder's been caught already.”

Takagi paused, his gaze flicking to Hattori, and then back to Conan. There was still suspicion in his eyes, but he gave a slight nod. "Alright, I’ll leave it for now. Since she's already been apprehended, no use digging into something unrelated."

Conan nodded quickly, his smile feeling more like a grimace. “Of course, Takagi-keiji. I understand.”

Takagi gave one last look at the photograph before slipping it back into his folder. "Okay then. I’ve got everything I need from you. You can go now, Conan-kun. But, if there’s anything else you remember, don’t hesitate to come to me, okay?"

Conan stood up, trying to keep his movements slow and calm, his stomach twisting in knots. He gave a short, tight nod. “Thanks, Takagi-keiji. I’ll—uh, I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Takagi smiled, but his eyes lingered on him just a little too long. "Let's get you back to Mouri-tantei, shall we?"

As Conan made his way to the door, Hattori followed closely behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets. They reached the door, but Hattori’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Kudo. You doin’ alright?” Hattori’s tone was low, just for Conan’s ears, and the look in his eyes wasn’t teasing anymore.

Conan paused for a second before answering. "I’m fine."

But even to his own ears, the answer felt hollow.

They eventually arrived at the conference room, which was packed with nearly every Division One detective in the precinct. People filled the rows of seats, eager to be part of the investigation. Megure stood at the front, conversing with Mouri and Shiratori. As they entered, Sato approached them, her gaze sharp.

"Takagi! Ah, Conan-kun, Hattori-kun! Takagi, why did you bring them here?" She crossed her arms, enunciating every syllable of his name.

"Ah, well, I was just—uhm—bringing them over to Mouri... Is now a bad time?" Takagi stammered, unsure how to explain.

Sato sighed, clearly frustrated. "Megure-keibu’s about to start the case briefing. I’m not sure if they can sit in on this one..." She glanced over at the Inspector, subtly drawing their attention to him. His expression was somber, the weight of over a dozen bodies worth of organs adding a gravity to the atmosphere. It was clear this case was unlike any they would allow them to participate in.

"I don’t think this is something you kids should get involved in," Sato continued, her tone softening slightly. She glanced between Conan and Hattori. "Let the adults handle it this time."

Just as Hattori opened his mouth to protest, a voice cut clean through the sea of chatter in the room.

"All investigations into this case are to cease immediately. The Public Security Bureau will be taking over from here."

It was Kazami Yuya. 

Chapter Text

You could hear a pin drop with just how silent the conference room went, just as the man announced his unwanted presence. The PSB being here could mean several things. And from the fact that they had decided to takeover the case entirely meant one thing. This case was a national level threat. 

Megure was the first to cut through the silence.

"I'm sorry? This case has been entrusted to me by both Superintendent Kuroda and Senior Superintendent Matsumoto. How can the PSB just take over this case without any notice?"

Kazami didn’t flinch. “With all due respect, Inspector Megure, the Public Security Bureau reserves the right to assume jurisdiction over any case deemed a matter of national security. We’re exercising that right now.”

A few murmurs rippled across the room. Sato looked at Takagi in disbelief. Even Shiratori straightened up, clearly unsettled.

“And who exactly decided that?” Megure crossed his arms, his tone rising with controlled frustration. “We’ve already begun the investigation. My detectives and forensics team are involved. You can’t just walk in and yank this from us. What exactly makes this case a matter of national security?”

Kazami simply pulled a document from the folder under his arm and placed it on the conference table. “This is a federal directive. Signed and authorized. If you'd like to verify it with Superintendent Kuroda, I encourage you to do so—though I imagine he's already been briefed.”

Shiratori stepped forward now, brow furrowed. “This investigation is centered around multiple homicide victims and possible  illegal organ trafficking. How are we supposed to drop all this and forget about it? Is there information that the Bureau is restraining from us?”

Kazami’s expression didn’t change. “That information is... confidential.”

“Confidential enough to sweep this case and any possible similar ones right under our feet?” Sato’s voice was sharp.

There was a quick inhale before he continued speaking, “No. Not unless the Bureau deems it relevant to your operational capacity.”

Conan's brows knitted together, watching from beside Hattori, who looked about two seconds away from exploding.

"Oi," Hattori muttered, loud enough to be heard, "This ain't some game of hide and seek. People died. If you're sittin' on something that could help us—"

"You are not even officially part of this investigation, Hattori-kun," Kazami cut in smoothly. "And neither is your companion."

The boy's grip on Hattori's pants leg tightened, not even realizing he'd caught it within his fists. He didn't want to be here.

At this point, Megure leaned in slightly, his voice low but firm. “You’ve given us almost nothing. We’re not just going to step aside because you walked in here wearing a suit and flashing paperwork. There could be countless victims still undiscovered, and we’d still be stuck playing this game of ‘who’s in charge.’”

Kazami gave a small sigh and before finally surrendering, “Then I’ll make a call. If you insist on speaking directly to my superior…"

He turned on his heel, the conference room watching his every move as he exited, his phone already in hand.

The silence returned—but it wasn’t shock this time. It was anticipation.

It hadn’t been long before the man returned to the conference room, a defeated look weighing down his normally composed face.

“Change of plans,” he announced with a sigh. “This case will now be handled as a joint collaboration between the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department and the Public Security Bureau.”

His voice was even, but fatigue bled through each word.
“However, we’ll be limiting the number of personnel involved. So, Inspector—please choose the detectives you’d like to keep on the case.”

He paused, glancing to the side. “Oh—and… could I borrow your printer?”

“A-ah!” Takagi startled slightly, almost jumping as if reminded of something. “The printer’s in the room next door,” he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too rushed.

He moved toward the agent and guided him out of the room with practiced urgency. The door clicked softly behind them.

The silence lasted just a second longer.

Then—

Like a match catching flame, the conference room stirred back to life.

Detectives turned to one another, voices low but rapid. Papers rustled. Questions hung in the air, too many to answer at once. There was no clear consensus on what to make of this new development—but unease ran beneath every exchange.

At the front of the room, Megure exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He'd already decided who he was assigning to this case—had planned to do so from the beginning. The others… they'd be more useful chasing the backlog of smaller cases, now growing by the day. 

“Sato, Shiratori,” he called, lifting his head. “The rest of you, return to your departments. You’re dismissed.”

There was a soft scraping of chairs and the quiet thump of footsteps as the other detective filed out. A few spared glances back—curious, maybe even frustrated—but none lingered. They trusted Megure's decision.

Mouri, Hattori, and Conan, of course, remained.

None of them were under the TMPD’s jurisdiction.

Megure turned, half-remembering, half-annoyed. “Ah—Mouri, you can stay as well.” His eyes flicked to the remaining two. “Hattori-kun, Conan-kun, I’ll have an officer escort you—”

“—That won’t be necessary.”

Kazami stepped back into the room. Slightly out of breath, as though he had been walking briskly through the hall.

He was holding another folder now—this one thinner, but clearly more significant. Behind him, Takagi followed once again, this time looking visibly more tense.

Kazami approached the table, setting the folder down with care. “I’ve received explicit orders from my superiors,” he said. “Hattori-kun and Conan-kun are to be granted full access to this investigation.”

Megure’s expression tensed immediately. His mouth opened to protest—

Kazami didn’t give him the chance.

“This was a non-negotiable condition of our collaboration,” he continued smoothly. “Should you choose to refuse, the PSB will be withdrawing from the case entirely.”

That landed hard.

The room’s atmosphere shifted in an instant. All idle chatter evaporated. Even Sato and Shiratori straightened in their seats, exchanging sharp glances. No one said anything—but the message was clear. If they wanted this case… this was the price. Megure clenched his jaw. Slowly, he sank back into his chair. The tension settled in again- quiet, but undeniable. They wanted to question, but the threat of losing the case silenced their confusion.

Conan didn't know whether to be grateful or not. He was glad he'd have easy access to the case, making it watch his steps before jumping ahead. But at the same time, it reminded him so much of that man.

"Alright then, Megure-keibu, have you chosen your detectives?"

"Yes. Takagi, you're also part of the team, so don't leave just yet." 

Said man had been halfway through the door before turning back into the room. They moved around, settling into

"Good. Well then, before you begin, I'd like for each of you to receive this." Kazami distributed the papers he had returned with. Each and every person being handed one.

This is-

"A Non-Disclosure Agreement, an NDA as we call it. Another condition that has been outlined by my supervisor."

"Hold on- we can't sign these without a guardian-" Hattori stood up.

Kazami didn’t even look up. “Yes. Which is why we’ve arranged for a legal guardian or supervising officer to sign in your stead.”

His gaze shifted to Megure. “We’ll need your signature, Inspector. As their superior and acting guardian during this investigation.”

Megure’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he took the pen without a word. He signed once, then twice.

Conan felt a weight settle in his chest. It was done. They were in this now—officially.

There was a brief rustling of paper as the last NDA was slid across the table.

Kazami gave a curt nod, collecting the stack. “Good. Then let’s proceed. Officer Tome, please come in.”

The door swung open, revealing the familiar face of the seasoned crime scene investigator.

Kazami continued, “Officer Tome was the one who brought this case to my attention. He followed all protocols as outlined in the event of... special circumstances. So I’d appreciate it if no one directed their frustrations at him for the PSB’s involvement.”

He paused, scanning the room.

“I had initially instructed him to submit a falsified forensics report.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. Megure stood up, his chair rolling out and slamming into the wall behind him. Tampering with a forensics report and evidence was a crime, and the PSB openly admitting to doing such made it ever the more shocking.

“—Excuse me?!”

Kazami held up a hand. “In the event that your department continued with an independent investigation, it was a contingency measure. Nothing more.”

Officer Tome began distributing folders—one to each of the selected detectives, including Hattori and Conan.

“This,” Kazami said, “is the genuine forensics report.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone flipped open their respective folders, each reading the detailed reports carefully. The soft shuffling of pages was the only sound, until—

“Is this some kind of joke?” Shiratori snapped, his voice sharp with disbelief, the edge of panic curling around his words.

Kazami didn’t flinch. “I can assure you the report is one hundred percent genuine, Shiratori-keibu,” he said, his tone clinical. Unshaken. Almost too calm.

Takagi squinted down at the pages in front of him. His hands were trembling slightly. “Then… these organs…” His voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “They’re all from the same individual?”

Sato’s eyes flicked back to her own copy of the report, fingers moving faster now, flipping pages, scanning, flipping again. Her brows furrowed deeper with each line she reread. “No. That doesn’t make sense,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “There were multiple hearts. Multiple kidneys. Livers, lungs—too many. More organs than any one person could ever have.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the rustle of paper as the detectives turned page after page, searching for a mistake. A misprint. Some logical explanation.

But there was none.

Megure furrowed his brows, pinching the bridge of his nose as he finished skimming through the entire report.

Every sample—every heart, every liver, every lung—had been processed independently. Different batches, different forensics scientists. And yet, the results were identical.

One genetic profile.

Officer Tome gave a slow, grim nod. “That’s what we thought too. But the DNA analysis is consistent across every sample. It all points to a single genetic profile. One person. Every single organ. All a perfect replica of each other.”

Hattori let out a laugh of disbelief, leaning back slightly. “So you're tryna' make us believe that this one person somehow managed to crap out thirteen bodies worth of organs?”

Kazami gave a measured nod, his face unreadable. “Yes.”

The room went silent again, the weight of the revelation sinking in like a heavy stone. Hattori’s brow furrowed deeper. “W-wait, but how?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

Kazami leaned forward slightly, his tone lowering, as if the gravity of the information about to be released weighed him down.

“There are… certain individuals whose bodies do not adhere to the usual rules of biology. This is one of the reasons the PSB became involved in the investigation. The organs, all of them, belonged to someone… who should not have been able to produce multiple sets of them.”

“This is madness." Mouri scoffed. "Are you telling us this is some kind of medical freak? A—”

“No,” Kazami interrupted sharply. “This isn’t some kind of man-made phenomenon. It’s a classified biological anomaly. We call them..."

"Ajins."

Ajin... that meant that there were others like him. That they had existed long enough for the government to recognize them. So that's what he was. For the first time, Conan was glad that he was here. 

“Ajin?” Sato echoed, eyes narrowing in confusion. “A Demi-human? What’s that?”

“Immortals,” Kazami said, his voice cool but with an edge of something darker. “Individuals who cannot die." he paused, thinking before correcting more of the information. "Well, not really. They can die, but when they do, they always come back. They will regenerate endlessly.”

The projector flickered to life, casting a pale glow across the room as a slideshow began. Page by page, it detailed the existence of Ajins—from their initial discovery to every meticulously recorded detail.

Slide after slide filled the screen with clinical graphics and damning data, each one chipping away at the detectives’ skepticism.

A quiet unease settled in the room, growing heavier with every frame.

With mounting proof of beings who defied death, the reality of immortality was no longer theory. It had become fact.

And that fact left a sour taste in every gut present.

"As I've said before, Officer Tome did the right thing to inform the PSB. In the event that proof was found an Ajin's existence, the PSB will be required to involved ourselves until we properly identify and secure the Ajin."

And oh.

Oh.

Conan felt the breath in his lungs seize—go cold, sharp, like he’d swallowed ice.

They weren't here to solve this case.

They were only here for the Ajin.

They were here for him.

"psst-! Kudo, you aight?" Hattori nudged him, whispering into his ear. He hadn't realized just how tightly he'd been gripping the folder, wrinkling the edges of where his hands had been. 

"ahaha... sorry, just kinda shocked you know. I didn't think that the supernatural was real you know?" He gave a weak smile. Hattori wasn't easy to convince, he always knew just when something was up.

Hattori squinted his eyes, as if judging him again. "You've been actin' weird since that Takagi interrogated ya- actually, no. You've been weird the whole day."

He couldn't shrug him off. 

"I'll ... I'll talk to you after the briefing, okay?" Hattori raised an eyebrow, before finally accepting his offer. 

The meeting continued on, thick with tension, as the detectives grappled with the concept of Ajins. Mouri leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and brow furrowed in open disbelief, while Shiratori fidgeted with his pen, his voice clipped and incredulous every time he spoke. Across the table, Sato and Takagi exchanged uncertain glances—confused, yes, but listening. Trying to make sense of the impossible.

Strangely enough, there were two others who were mildly impassive towards the discovery. Inspector Megure sat stone-faced, his hat casting a shadow over unreadable eyes. And besides Conan, Hattori kept a neutral look. 

Kazami cleared his throat, cutting through the silence.

“Moving on to the next segment,” he said, voice steady. “The DNA sample taken from the Ajin was… unidentifiable. No matches in any database. Which means we’ll need to find leads through other methods.”

He paused.

“However—there was a second DNA sample. One that was successfully identified.”

The projector flickered, the slide shifting.

A face appeared on the screen.

That face. 

The one that plagues his nightmares.

"This is Manabe Junji. I'm sure some of you might remember him."

Chapter Text

"Manabe Junji?! That detective who went missing 5 years ago?!" Megure's voice cut through the room. Every other TMPD detectives were shocked, remaining silent as they saw the screen flash the face of their presumed deceased colleague that went missing without a trace years ago. A cold case with no leads, no motives, and no traces, now suddenly reappearing before them like a ray of hope, to bring their comrade to justice. A ray of hope to all but the ajin who killed the very man they wanted to avenge.

Conan stared at the face of the man monster that tormented his very being. The flashes of his sick and twisted smile as he cut deeper into his flesh, the sounds that seemed to whisper right into his head of that disgusting laughter. The biometric photo seemed to morph within his mind, the man in the pristine suit with a token smile on the screen seemed so inhumane to him.

His mouth felt dry, as the room seemed to boil. His stomach churned with nausea and discomfort, holding himself steady as the room seemed to spin, with everyone's else voices seeming to distort into static. 

"That's right." Kazami paused, flipping his notes. "Manabe Junji, Aged 37. Reported missing on 27th July 20XX, 5 years ago by his colleagues in TMPD, with no traces left behind. Almost as if he vanished into thin air... until today." The slide show flicked, showing details about him right before his alleged disappearance.

"The blood stains left behind are 5 years old indeed, and with the amount of it left behind... we should be expecting to find his corpse soon. However, with such little traces left behind, we can only hope that it will be enough to find him."

It left a grim feeling in the detectives. If only they had found him earlier, if they had found that warehouse earlier, before he was too long gone. Then maybe his corpse wouldn't be rotting away in god knows where. Megure held his head low, his expression hidden by his hat. He'd known Manabe for a good 8 years before his disappearance, the man had been there supporting him in many tough cases, sharing late night overtime on cases, helping each other out. 

"So... what will happen after we've found the Ajin? What will the PSB do to them?" Megure asked, a glint of anger appeared beneath his hardened expression.

Kazami blinked, a pause, before continuing. "What the PSB does to the Ajin is completely classified. But rest assured, the PSB will and has done its best to secure multiple different Ajins over the years. There will be no chance of them resurfacing again or escaping after their capture." an ominous response, leaving Conan in dread. 

The PSB has captured many ajins before him.

They never let them go.

Those ajins are locked up forever.

The PSB is after him.

They will find him.

They will capture him.

Ajins never escape.

They'll lock him up forever

He'll never escape again.

He'll never be free again.

He'll be stuck in that room forever.

He's never leaving that room ever again.
He's never left that room in the first place.

"-Conan. Are you okay?" His head snapped up, as the voice cut through his spiral of thoughts.

A large hand rested on his shoulder as he resisted the urge to flinch away. Mouri had knelt down, a look of concern on his face as he checked his temperature. "Well you're not sick at least... You feeling alright brat?" It was so strange seeing the old man treat him with such gentleness. Did he look so fragile that even the old drunkard had started being so delicate with his wellbeing?

He'd only notice just how the entire room had been staring at him, mixed with concern and confusion.

"We haven't heard a thing from you for a while, and we got concerned when you weren't asking a thing or responding to any questions." Sato added, concern written all over her face.

"Guess we oughta blame Takagi-keiji for interrogatin’ him right before this," Hattori glanced back at the detective, who seemed to shrink beside Sato, who gave him a firm smack on his shoulder.

"It's alright, it's not Takagi-keiji's fault...I'm just a little..."

He was tired.
Tired of this.
Tired of this endless feeling.
Tired of this weight that seems to plague him.
Tired of this fear.
Tired of living a sick joke. 

"...tired."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then the room slowly breathed back to life. Chairs shifted. Papers rustled. Voices picked up where they’d left off, careful not to look at him for too long.

“I’ll be arranging the allocation of resources for the investigation tomorrow,” Kazami said, shuffling through his notes as he adjusted his spectacles. “Takagi-keiji and Sato-keiji, please handle the logistics afterwards.” The detectives nodded as they pulled out their notebooks.

“I’d like to reinvestigate Manabe-keiji’s residence.”

“That won’t be possible,” Megure said. “His apartment was repossessed a year after his disappearance. Some of his personal belongings are still in headquarters storage.”

“Then we’ll reinvestigate those,” Kazami replied without hesitation. “Send any device with digital storage to forensics. Have them run a full disk forensic analysis.”

“Shiratori-keibu.”

“Yes?”

“Retrieve every case Manabe-keiji worked on in the six months leading up to his disappearance.”

“Understood!” Shiratori saluted before stepping out to make the call.

Kazami shifted his attention back to the room.

“Sato-keiji. Takagi-keiji.”

“Coordinate with the Police Canine Unit. We’ll begin searching a five-kilometer radius around the warehouse perimeter tomorrow at 11:00am sharp. Have the Forensic Recovery Team on standby to retrieve the remains, regardless of their condition.”

“Yes, sir.”
“Got it.”

His gaze hardened.

“And do not spare any expense. We will locate every possible clue related to the Ajin’s identity and whereabouts.”

The detectives scattered at once, scrambling to contact their respective departments and rushing to secure the resources that would be needed as early as the next day.

“Mouri-tantei, Hattori-kun,” Kazami said, already gathering his files. “We’ll meet back here tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. We’ll pick Conan up from school in the afternoon.”

The PSB agent turned towards the inspector.

"Now that we've settled everything else, Megure-keibu, I'd like to discuss the details of the collaboration between the PSB and TMPD further in your office." Kazami said as he and Megure made their way out the room, leaving just the three of them behind.

The silence was deafening, an awkwardness between the detectives filled the room. Hattori seemed to stare straight through him, as if trying to understand such a difficult problem right in front of him. He knew that he was only concerned for him, that each interruption he made was only to defend him, to protect him from whatever he thinks is hurting him. 

"...Be right back, gotta use the toilet."

Conan made his way out of the room, trying to shrug for the suffocating feeling. He felt the stares from both the Ossan and Hattori, as he dipped around the corner out of their line of sight. The walk to the restroom felt like miles, the white walls of the offices felt more glaring than ever, as it reflected light off of it. He'd never really taken notice of just how the floor tiles seemed to glitter, how patterns seemed to appear with each tile. Each step seemed to drag against the floor as he hauled himself away from the room. 

He left a cleaning sign outside the bathroom, right as he entered a stall and locked its door, closing the lid of the toilet bowl before sitting on it with his legs up against his chest. 

He let out a long release of air he hadn't realised he'd been holding in all along. It did barely a thing to relieve the tension he'd been feeling all day. 

He buried his head further into his knees, shying away from the glare of the ceiling lights.

He didn't know what to do.

The great highschool detective had came up with absolutely nothing to save himself from being exposed as a murderer.

A weak, strangled laugh slipped out of him.

Thousands of cases solved.

Thousands of solutions to each.

Thousands of ways he'd thought of to have made it impossible to solve, and yet. 

Yet he couldn't think of a way to get out of this one. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t.

Every time a possibility surfaced, something deep inside him shut it down before it could take shape.

It wasn’t inability.

It was refusal.

He simply wouldn't.

His own subconsciousness knows that he is guilty. 

That he needs to be caught.

That this was the punishment he deserved.

A large ebony hand rested onto the top of his head, giving it slow clumsy circles, a pitiful attempt at comfort. A familiar feeling of twisted comfort he felt half a decade ago.

He looked up, the lights blinding him for a moment. A large eerie figure cloaked in black matter had materialised right in front of him, occupying the remaining space of the bathroom stall. 

"Shadow...You'll protect me either ways...won't you?" a soft whisper escaped his lips.

As though it understood, the IBM crouched lower, embracing the now 7 year old in a hug, trying to shield him from the world. 

He leaned into the hug, resting his head into the torso of his protector. He remembered nights spent alone in his family's mansion after, the darkness that reminded him so much of waiting in that room alone for his captor to return. Nights that he spent sitting alone, hiding in the closet of his room with Shadow standing guard at the door of his room. 

He couldn't sleep laid flat for a long time. With each time he woke up in the middle of the night in total darkness causing him to spiral into uncontrollable sobs, with Shadow appearing to comfort him, lulling him back to a dreamless sleep. It took a long time for him to finally sleep like how he used to before.

"-Yo Conan? You'in here?" A familiar voice reverberated through the bathroom walls, footsteps echoed as it seemed to get closer. The Kansai teenager had seemed to locate the shrunken detective. 

He instinctively dematerialised the IBM, black particles fading into nothingness.

"H-hattori?" His voice cracked, tripping on the sorrow that choked up his throat. The footsteps stopped right in front of his stall. A pause, as though he was trying to find the words to say.

"...hey Kudo, I don't really know how'ta say this...but ya'know, if there's anythin' troublin' ya, you can alway's tell me." And here Hattori was, trying his best to comfort him. He didn't even know why he was upset and yet he's already doing his best to make it better. 

Would Hattori still care for him if he knew that he was the exact thing that detectives were born to despise?

He unlatched the lock on the stall's door, pushing it open. It felt like his shield had been stripped away, he felt vulnerable, as if any moment, he would shatter right in front of Hattori. Looking up from the ground, meeting the gaze of his friend

He didn't want Hattori to know, but at the same time, it was burning to keep him from knowing. He took in a shaky breath, the cold air stinging his throat.

"I-... Hattori-... I don't-..." "Ah there you guys are! Hattori-kun! Conan-kun! We're leaving in 10 minutes for dinner with Mouri-tantei and Sato-keiji! Meet us back at the conference room when you're done!"

Takagi burst into the bathroom and left just as quickly as he entered.

A stunned silence exchanged between the two of them, before Conan made his way over to the sinks, washing his hands and face in the process. 

"...Kudo-" "Hattori...I'll talk to you after dinner, let's just get back first yeah?" He made his way out the restroom, moving the cleaning sign out of the way and back into the corner he had originally found it in, leaving Hattori behind to catch up with.

Dinner had been uneventful, a simple meal at a local family restaurant, with the adults keeping up with each other with chatter and Hattori occasionally joining in while Conan spent most his time pushing the food on his plate around with his fork. To which even Mouri had to remind him not to play with his food at least twice during the entire meal. 

Hattori tried to draw him into the conversation throughout the night. Each attempt earned little more than a faint mumble or a distracted nod. With every effort, the responses grew shorter, vaguer, until even Hattori seemed to give up. Every bite tasted like nothing. He chewed at a snail’s pace, his jaw aching as he forced himself through each mouthful.

The drive back home was even more uneventful. Sato and Takagi had offered to drive them back to the detective agency, with it being along their route. He was sat in the back seats, with Mouri squished in the middle between him and Hattori. Conan stared out the window, watching the streetlights flash by, staring out into the distance, refraining from any conversation ongoing within the car.

“Hattori-kun,” Sato asked, glancing into the rear-view mirror, “which hotel are you staying at? Would you like Takagi-kun and me to drop you off there?”

The Osaka teen froze-then visibly jolted, realization dawning on his face.

“A-ah… I actually forgot ta' book one in advance,” he admitted sheepishly. “Didn’t bring 'nough cash either…”

Had Hattori been so preoccupied with the case that he'd even forgotten about his own needs and wellbeing? Or had Conan's own behaviour kept him so distracted that he'd forgotten either? Guilt welled inside of him, 

"Oji-san?...Could Heiji-niichan stay the night?" He peered over to the older detective, who had clearly been on the verge of dozing off. 

Mouri cracked one eye open and regarded him in silence, clearly weighing his options... or perhaps just fighting sleep.

After a moment, he let out a tired sigh.

“One night,” he muttered with a yawn. “Then he’s back on the streets.”

Even with his view of Hattori being blocked by the man seated between them, he could still see the way he had beamed at him as he mouthed a quiet "thank you". It put his heart at ease. 

The rest of the drive had felt like a breeze, the worry on his best friend’s face seemed to ease, and with it, the weight pressing on Conan’s chest lifted just a little. Even Mouri seemed to relax after his request of having his friend over came out. The old man must have been worried about him too, he'd seen the small change in his face when he had finally spoke up after the meeting at the TMPD headquarters had ended.

Before he realized it, they had arrived outside the detective agency. The car eased to a stop by the curb, and they climbed out one by one. Mouri trudged ahead toward the stairs with a yawn, muttering something about locking up, while Takagi and Sato offered their goodbyes before pulling away.

Conan lingered near the entrance.

Hattori noticed.

“Oi,” he said quietly, once the others were out of earshot. “You alright?”

Conan didn’t answer right away. The street was quiet now, washed in the dull glow of the streetlights.

“…Not really,” he admitted.

Hattori moved ahead and dropped onto the bottom few steps leading up to the agency and the apartment above, the concrete cool beneath him. After a moment, he patted the step beside him, a silent invitation.

Conan hesitated, just long enough to be noticeable, before taking the seat next to him. His feet barely reached the step below as he sat, shoulders drawn in on themselves.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The night air was cool, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the faint buzz of a streetlight overhead.

Conan stared down at his hands, fingers curling and uncurling in his lap as he tried to gather the words lodged painfully in his chest. Every time he thought he had them, they slipped away, leaving only a dull, familiar ache behind.

Hattori glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Conan’s hands were still twisting together in his lap, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the ground.

He let out a quiet breath.

“Y’know,” Hattori said at last, voice lower than before, “you don’t gotta deal with stuff like this by yourself.”

He scratched the back of his head, eyes forward.

“If it’s about your situation, or… anything really...you can talk to me. Or the professor. Or even the scary lil-neechan.”

Conan was silent for a moment. 

"...I-...It's like..." a pause, "...being stuck in a nightmare that torments me even after waking up..."

He made a quick glance over to the teen beside him, attempting to read the micro changes to his expressions. There was confusion, understanding, and pity, all flashing across his face as he figured out what was to be said. Hattori hummed quietly, brows knitting together as he mulled over Conan’s words. After a beat, he gave a small, understanding nod.

“Yeah… I get that,” he said. “Cases like this’ll do that to ya. Dig up old stuff you thought you were done with, makes ya think what you knew felt fake ya'know and changes how ya see things.”

He glanced sideways at Conan, expression gentler now. “Doesn’t mean you won't get through it, though. Just means it'll hurt a little.”

Conan’s fingers curled tighter, nails biting into his palms.

So that was how it sounded. Like a case. Like stress. Like something normal.

“…Maybe,” he murmured, the word light and empty.

The silence stretched again, the hum of the city filling in the gaps neither of them seemed willing to cross. Conan shifted, pushing himself to his feet before Hattori could say anything more.

“I’m just tired,” he added quickly, forcing a small smile as he looked back at him. “I think I’ll turn in early.”

Hattori studied him for a second longer, as if weighing whether to press the issue...then sighed.

“Alright. But hey,” he said, pointing a thumb at his own chest, “I meant what I said. Anytime.”

Conan nodded once, making his way up the stairs. 

He told himself that the feeling in his chest wasn't disappointment.

Chapter Text

Hattori stared out into the empty streets as he heard his companion's footsteps disappear up the stairs, listening for that feint click of the apartment's door closing itself shut. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts list before clicking "call" on a specific phone number.

brr-

brr-

brr-

-click

"Hattori-kun? I wasn't expecting a phone call this late at night... So? Did you talk to him?"

"ah, sorry lil-neechan~ I just finished my chat with him." 

There was a brief silence before Haibara's voice returned.

"And?"

He exhaled through his nose, scratching the back of his head.

“He’s… y’know... Stressed out I guess.”

"...Hattori, if I wanted to know he was stressed, all I had to do was look at him. Which I already did. The reason I called you over to Beika is to figure out why Kudo-kun's acting like this." 

A sigh was heard from the other end of the call, Hattori could almost imagine Haibara smacking her hand against her forehead in disappointment already.

"Haha...sorry-sorry." Hattori rubbed the back of his neck, grin audible even through the phone. “I ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong or nothin’. Just… it didn’t feel like somethin’ I should pry too hard into.”

There was another pause.

“…What did he say?” Haibara asked, slower this time.

Hattori’s gaze drifted toward the darkened stairwell that led up to the agency.

“…Nothin’ clear,” he admitted. “Just talked in circles. Somethin' bout not sleepin’ well. Said it felt like somethin’ like a nightmare tormenting him even after wakin' up.”

"...nightmares?" you could hear the scepticism even from across the line.

“Yeah,” Hattori continued, oblivious. “Guess even shrunken detectives ain’t immune to the ol' night terrors, huh? I figured it’s the whole kid-body thing finally weighin’ on him.” 

Silence.

Longer this time.

“…Hattori,” Haibara said quietly, “did he mention the warehouse?”

“…Eh?” Hattori blinked. “No. Why would he?”

a pause.

"Never mind then," voice spoke up, quieter now, “when he said he’d already woken up—did it sound like he meant recently?”

Hattori frowned, glancing back up the stairs.

“Not really. Sounded like somethin’ from way back.”

Haibara closed her eyes.

“…I see.”

“Oi,” Hattori added quickly, sensing her concern. “I told him he ain’t alone. He looked a little better after. Turned in early and all.”

“…And he didn't try to brush you off?” she echoed.

“Yeah. Figured that’s what he needed right now.”

Another breath on the other end—measured, controlled.

“…If he says anything else,” Haibara said, “anything that doesn’t sound like stress or exhaustion—you call me immediately.”

“Got it,” Hattori replied, easy. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

The call ended.

Hattori slipped his phone into his pocket, convinced he’d done the right thing, before finally deciding to head up to the apartment to turn in for the night.

Elsewhere, Haibara remained still long after the line went dead, mind scrambling around trying to understand with such little clues.

(note: Hattori's POV)

He'd woken up some time after breakfast, eating whatever leftovers from what Ran had prepared before leaving for school with Conan, while Mouri read his morning newspapers. He changed out of his pyjamas, putting on a fresh change of clothes as he then proceeded to store away the spare futon he had borrowed. 

He had missed his chance thanking Kudo for getting Mouri to allow him to stay the night. Hattori figured he'd give his thanks back by filling in for the hours to be missed of investigation while he'd be stuck at school, he was sure Kudo would appreciate him documenting the corpse's state when they'll eventually find it. Even though he wasn't sure if it would make him feel any better, Hattori still wanted to do whatever he could to help his best friend. 

It wasn't long before Mouri and him had left to catch a taxi straight to the Tokyo Metropolis Police Department headquarters. He made sure to thank the old man for his hospitality and now even the transport fees.

The atmosphere of the TMPD was that of in chaos.

He spotted Takagi and Sato rushing about the corridors, juggling phone calls and armfuls of documents, voices overlapping as they coordinated with people on the other end of their lines. It wasn’t hard to guess they were finalising the last pieces of administrative work before today’s field operation.

Shiratori and Kazami nearly barrelled past him moments later, struggling under the weight of several boxes crammed full of files. Papers threatened to spill over the edges as they hurried along, Shiratori muttering something about how he couldn’t wait for the department to go fully digital.

They soon entered the conference room, Megure was already inside, seated at the head of the table and speaking animatedly into his phone. It took a moment for Hattori to realise who was on the other end-until Megure addressed him as Superintendent Matsumoto. The inspector ended the call shortly after, rising to his feet and turning his attention to those gathered.

“Mouri-kun, Hattori-kun...good. You’re here,” Megure said, adjusting his hat. “The teams are ready for departure. Now that we’re all present, we’ll conduct a brief briefing before we move out.”

“We’ll be splitting into four teams, each assigned to cover the North, South, East, and West sectors within a five-kilometre radius of the warehouse,” he began, pausing to let the information settle. “Each team will be accompanied by three cadaver dogs and their handlers to thoroughly sweep the area.”

He continued without missing a beat.

“Takagi-kun and Mouri will handle the North. Sato-kun and Hattori-kun will take the South. Shiratori-kun and Kazami-san will cover the East. I’ll oversee the West.”

There was a slight pause, before the Inspector cleared his throat again. This time, his tone of voice took a stern approach.

“In the event that any team uncovers a lead, you are to immediately clear the search personnel from the area before contacting the excavation unit.” His gaze hardened as he scanned the room. “This case remains under strict restrictions. No information—none—is to leave this operation. We cannot afford for details covered by the NDA to surface.”

The room visibly stiffened. The weight of that confidentiality settled heavily over everyone present. Even Mouri had adopted a serious expression, a far cry from his usual careless demeanor.

“The PSB’s forensics division will be responsible for all evidence handling,” Kazami added. “No documentation—physical or digital—is to be produced without explicit authorization. Once the excavation team completes the unearthing, the PSB will oversee the extraction and transport of all recovered material.”

The tension in the room thickened.

Hattori shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how out of place he felt.

This wasn’t like any case he’d worked before. This wasn’t just about solving a crime—this was national-level classified territory. He understood the implications well enough. If proof of Ajins were to leak, it would spread like wildfire, leaving the PSB and TMPD scrambling to contain the fallout.

He wasn’t sure whether the tight feeling in his chest was nerves…
or excitement.

"Hattori-kun, make sure not to wander off. Stay close to any of the officers in the area, and do not forget what Megure-keibu said about the confidentiality of this case." Sato-keiji had given him another round of talking to. 

He'd first figured that she was just undermining him due to being just a teenager, but realised that she was probably more concerned about the possibility of any NDA breaches and how the TMPD would end up complicit in such an event. 

They had reached the warehouse about a good 30 minutes ago, before setting off to their respective sections they had to cover with their limited manpower and resources. He hadn't actually had a chance to see the warehouse up until now, getting a quick tour around the area from Sato. 

She had shown him the exact room that had been reported in by Haibara and the detective kids, although the area had now been cordoned off with police tapes and barriers, preserving it's authenticity to the best of its limits even after a 5 year gap. 

He'd been greeted by the scent of iron and rust of the room, with grime and dirt decorating the walls and floors-and even bits of the ceiling. What he'd first thought was simple mould and dirt against the walls turned out to be far worst than he'd expected. Everything had been coated with think layers of dried blood, long turned into a feint red-brownish hue from the dust and age. 

And how he'd wish he still thought that the clumps against the walls and floor were simply a large built up of mould and maybe a bit of fungus, only to be told by Sato that they had been tested positive as parts of the Ajin's internal organs. 

There were pieces of flesh scattered across the room.

And they'd been left there for years.

Had anyone thought to clean it up?

The thought barely finished forming before it dissolved, replaced by something colder.

Of course they hadn’t.

The TMPD had long been used to the clinical steps of processing every crime scene. Handling each scene like every other, gathering the evidence, clearing out the dead bodies, and once they were done with everything, they'd hire the cleaners to restore the place to how it's been-as if someone had never died in the first place. Their job was to catch murderers and killers, to avenge the lives lost to the different friends and families who would be left to suffer long after each victim's death. 

But that suffering was left to those left behind.

Those victims were long dead.

And that was it.

But what about the Ajin? 

They were still alive out there. 

They had suffered their own countless deaths and been left to struggle through each one of them.

They had avenged their own death, a death that never seemed to occur in the first place.

Because at the end of the day, they were still alive. 

They were still alive, and that itself seemed to make each death invalid in the eyes of the law.

As though the pain and suffering never counted in the first place, because mortality was out of the question. 

And now the PSB and TMPD were hunting them down...because they had to avenge one of their own.

Hattori didn't know if he was the only one who felt this way. He'd thought that it would just be another case of a brutal murder, one that would pass over by the time lunch was over. Did Manabe Junji die trying to save the Ajin? Was the person who killed Manabe Junji the one who tortured that Ajin? Did the Ajin Kill Manabe Junji?

Hattori made his way around the warehouse, scrutinising the entire vicinity. It felt different now, unlike an abandoned building. It felt condemned.

He rounded the back of the warehouse, finding a storage shed tucked away behind the warehouse, hidden by the overgrown shrubbery. He followed along the exterior walls of the warehouse, towards the direction of the shed. 

*squeak*  

It was the sound of a rat, but it caught his attention much less. He whipped his head around, scanning the ground for the rodent, before spotting a small crack in the wall, a hole small enough for a small teenager or a woman. When he'd squatted down to get a better look, all he'd found was dried blood all over the floor of its interior.

"Hattori-kun?"

The teenage detective jumped, startled by the sudden voice calling out to him. 

 Sato had rounded the corner, checking in on him. "We have to leave soon, the other have all went off already." 

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"sorry..." he glanced back to the storage shed he'd seen in the distance, "Have yall' checked that shed yet?"

She looked towards the direction he'd been staring at, a look of consideration flashed across her face before remembrance. 

"Ah that shed? We've checked and there was nothing... completely emptied out, most of its contents were tools used in that room upstairs." She looked deep in thought, remembering the details off the top of her head. "We checked tried testing for prints, but anything that could've been there had long been washed away with age..."

Hattori felt slight disappointment in losing another possible lead-but a gut feeling told him otherwise.

“…Mind helpin’ me out for a sec?” he said, tilting his head back toward the warehouse. “From this wall outside… which wall would it line up with on the inside?”

They'd end up finding a new piece of evidence. 

The wall they had been looking for had turned out to lead to a hidden section of the warehouse, its entrance blocked by piles of wooden crates, with a large plastic tarp covering it entirely.

They ended up having to call in a team to assist with cordoning the area off for further analysis. The floor of the area had been stained with blood, barb wires scattered across the ground, with a larger concentration towards the gap in the wall as it was hooked up to a strange mechanism. 

Right in the corner of the room, laid a bloodstained axe. 

Sato had immediately procured the evidence, storing it into an evidence bag before hulling it into an evidence collection box and locking it shut. She made a quick call to the inspector, informing him of this new development and possibly a secondary site of the crime scene.

"Hattori-kun, the team is ready to move. Let's head out now, we got a lot area to cover."

It had been hours before they finally found it.

By then, the excavation teams had unearthed so many false alarms that no one reacted immediately when the call came in. Too many times, the soil had given up nothing more than forest wildlife-half-rotted deer, the remains of wild boar—each discovery raising hope only to smother it again. Another carcass, they’d thought. Another disappointment.

Until Takagi’s voice crackled over the radio. He and Mouri had found something roughly two kilometres north of the warehouse.

This time, the tone was different.

By the time the rest of them reached the site, the excavation team had already cleared the upper layers of soil. PSB forensics moved with practiced efficiency around the shallow pit, their lights trained on what little remained. It didn’t take long. Dental records were cross-referenced, confirmations exchanged in clipped murmurs.

Manabe Junji.

The name settled heavily among them.

They’d approached from the opposite direction, looping past the warehouse and covering far more ground than expected. The trek left their legs aching, boots caked with mud by the time they arrived. The others were already there, crouched near the excavation, quietly examining what the earth had preserved-and what it had destroyed.

There wasn’t much left of the body.

Time and soil had reduced it to skeletal remains, bleached and brittle, as if the forest itself had tried to erase him. Two objects had been recovered from the grave alongside the corpse:

An old, broken cell phone and a scalpel, both sealed away in evidence bags.

Forensics focused on the arm.

The radius and ulna had been shattered cleanly at a specific length, fragmented rather than fractured. The rest of the limb lay buried some distance away from the torso, displaced with unsettling precision. Notes were taken quickly, diagrams sketched. 

Hattori moved quietly around the perimeter, making sure to photograph everything: the disturbed earth, the skeletal remains, the distance from the warehouse. He justified it easily enough-Kudo would absolutely sulk if he found out everyone else had been out here while he’d been stuck at school. Still, Kazami’s sharp warning echoed in his ears.

No sharing. No leaks.

Hattori promised, already planning to delete the images the moment Conan had seen them back at headquarters.

Once documentation was complete, the forensics team carefully extracted the remains, sealing the body for transport. Evidence was catalogued and packed away, each item labelled and logged before being sent off for deeper examination.

The detectives lingered only briefly.

Their attention kept drifting back to the broken phone. If anything had survived inside it-messages, call logs, even fragments of location data-the PSB’s digital forensics division would find it. They always did.

And if the phone spoke…

Then the dead man might finally tell them where the trail truly began.

(note: Conan's POV)

It had been about 4p.m. when Takagi had stopped by the front gate of Teitan Elementary. 

Mouri had messaged him that they would be slightly late, and that Takagi would be the one to pick him up instead. 

The faux 7 year old climbed into the backseat of the detective's car, greeting the man with a feint smile. 

School had ended about 2 hours ago, the detective boys had long left for home-leaving him alone, waiting for someone from the TMPD to pick him up as scheduled. The kids hadn't initially wanted to leave him behind, but he'd convinced Haibara to bring them home. 

"Conan-kun? Did we make you wait long?" Takagi asked, eyes meeting his through the rear-view mirror. He had a gentle smile as always, ever so caring for him and the other kids.

Conan made sure to keep his smile up, "It's okay, the investigation took a long time didn't it? I don't mind."

The man chuckled, "Yeah, it took a real long time to find the body this time." 

"oh."

"Conan-kun?"

"yeah?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"..."

"Do you want me to send you home instead? I'm sure Mouri-san and Hattori-kun will understand if you can't make it."

"...no...there's no need to..."

"Conan-kun?"

"...hm?"

"We're here, Conan-kun."

He finally lifted his head, eyes drifting from his hands to the view beyond the car window.

They’d already stopped. The vehicle sat idle in the TMPD car park.

The drive itself felt like a smear of motion and noise, stretched thin and hollow in his memory.

He couldn’t recall if Takagi had spoken to him the whole way. Maybe he had. Conan remembered zoning out halfway through, only fragments of questions slipping through the fog-voices without weight, words without shape.

When the door opened, he stepped out slowly, deliberately. Each movement was measured, careful, as though misplacing a step might send him reeling. He pulled his school bag close, slinging it over his shoulder before falling into step behind Takagi, following him into the headquarters building.

Inside, they passed countless officers and detectives.

Conan didn’t look at any of them.

His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, on his own feet, matching his steps to Takagi’s ahead of him. Greetings brushed past his ears and went unanswered-Nice to see you, kid. How you doing, little detective? He let them all slide by, unnoticed, unheard. Right now, he didn’t have it in him to be seen.

It had seemed that they'd arrived successfully at their destination. Takagi had stopped in front of a room when he had finally turned to look at the older man. He had held the door open, waiting for the child to step in-to which he promptly did. 

His eyes immediately found Hattori.

The Osakan teen sat slouched in one of the corner seats at the table, long legs stretched out far too casually for a room this serious. Conan drifted toward him almost instinctively, like a moth to a flame. Hattori noticed at the same time, his face lighting up as he waved both arms in exaggerated motions, beckoning him over with a wide grin.

If there was anyone in this room who could make today feel even marginally easier, it was Hattori. That much, at least, hadn’t changed.

Conan had barely taken his seat when an arm hooked around his shoulders, yanking him into a lopsided side hug. He leaned uncomfortably into Hattori’s side, caught off guard.

“Yo, Kudo,” Hattori whispered, grin firmly in place. “Felt bad ya had ta spend tha whole day stuck learnin’ multiplications.” He chuckled softly. “So I made sure ta get ya all'dat details ya missed-right here.”

He slid his phone over.

And Conan had the unfortunate mistake of looking.

"I figured ya' hadn't had'tha chance to check out that warehouse yet, so I made sure to get some pictures for ya'~" That grin never left his face, and Conan had to remind himself that Hattori had only meant well.

The room. The bloodstained walls. The metal table. The restraints on his arms. The gag in his mouth. The chainsaw-

He swiped.

It was the image of the crack in the wall he'd crawled through and straight to his own personal hell.

He hadn't ever seen it from the inside. 

The floor was soaked in a deep, dark reddish-brown, blood long since absorbed into the concrete, as though the building itself had learned how to bleed. It had seeped into every crack, every crevice-forever stained, forever present. The barbed wire looked far more menacing from this angle, twisted and rusted, still slick with what had once been him.

He couldn't help himself. Another swipe.

Every image a new angle of the warehouse. Every image burnt into his memory.

swipe.

and swipe again.

again.

again.

and again.

and-

This time, it wasn't an image of that warehouse. 

A shallow pit in the forest floor. Bone bleached pale against dark soil. The shape of a human frame, incomplete and disturbed, as though the earth itself had rejected it. One arm lay unnaturally distant from the rest, fragments scattered where it had been torn away.

The corpse had decomposed before recognition. Time ate away at it's remains, leaving only behind a shell of the man he'd murdered.

He did this.

He put him in his grave.

It was all his fault.

Conan’s hands trembled as he slid the phone back across the table to Hattori, forcing himself to look away.

For a moment, the room felt unbearably quiet.

“…Kudo?” Hattori’s voice was softer now, the grin finally gone. “Hey. Ya okay?”

Conan nodded too quickly.

“I’m fine,” he said, though the words felt brittle. “Really.”

But his gaze stayed fixed on the tabletop, fingers curling into his sleeves-because if he looked up, if he met Hattori’s eyes, he wasn’t sure what might spill out instead.

Kazami and Shiratori entered through the door, each carrying stacks of folders while looking worse for wear. They were the last to arrive; their presence was enough to finally seal the room off from the rest of the chaos outside.

The door shut.

Megure cleared his throat.

“Alright,” he said, gaze sweeping across the table, lingering briefly on the familiar faces. “Let’s begin.”

Kazami stepped forward first, setting his folders down with a soft thud. He flipped one open, fingers already marked with ink and dirt from the field.

“The PSB forensics team finished preliminary analysis on the items recovered from the burial site,” he began. “The scalpel found alongside Manabe Junji’s remains was processed immediately.”

He paused, eyes lifting.

“The prints,” Kazami continued, tone even, “match those recovered from the warehouse. The same unidentified Ajin.”

That settled it. The final doubt that had lingered in the room evaporated.

“So the Ajin killed Manabe,” Megure said quietly.

Kazami nodded once. “Yes. That much is now confirmed.”

Shiratori cleared his throat before speaking next, opening a separate file.

“However,” he added, “the axe recovered from the concealed section of the warehouse tells a different story.”

He slid a photo onto the table.

“The handle bore Manabe Junji’s fingerprints. Multiple points of contact. In contrast, the blood found on the blade and shaft belonged to that of the Ajin.”

Silence.

“…Which means,” Takagi said slowly, “Manabe killed the Ajin at least once.”

“Correct,” Shiratori replied. “The evidence strongly suggests the axe was the weapon used.”

Hattori leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. “So he butchered ‘im first… and then got what was comin’.”

No one answered him right away.

Takagi’s brows knit together, his gaze fixed on the photograph still lying on the table. “An axe…” he muttered, as if testing the word itself. “That’s not exactly… clean.”

Sato folded her arms, expression troubled. “Manabe was a detective,” she said quietly. “Even if it was in self-defence...an axe?” She shook her head. “That level of violence doesn’t make sense.”

Megure’s eyes were shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. “I worked with him,” he said. “...Long enough to know he wasn’t reckless. An axe is personal. Brutal. It’s not something you pick unless you mean to make a mess of it.”

“And yet,” Kazami cut in, tone clipped but careful, “his fingerprints are indisputable. Multiple points of contact. No signs of secondary handling.”

Shiratori adjusted his necktie. “And the blood belongs to the Ajin. There’s no indication the axe was planted.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence.

“So either,” Takagi said slowly, “we’re wrong about who Manabe was…”

“…or,” Sato finished, “…whatever happened in that warehouse changed him.”

Hattori exhaled through his nose, fingers curling against the armrest. “No matter how ya slice it,” he said, voice low, “that ain’t the kinda thing a cop’s supposed ta do.”

Megure didn’t argue.

He simply closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again.

“The evidence doesn’t care what we believe,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we stop questioning how it came to be.”

Around the table, the detectives sat with the same uncomfortable truth:

Manabe Junji had worn the same badge they did.

And the evidence was asking them to accept that he’d swung the axe anyway.

Kazami closed the folders that covered the scalpel and axe's evidence analysis and moved on.

“As for the phone recovered with the body-its condition is severe. Water damage, internal corrosion, physical trauma to the board.”

He exhaled. “Restoration is possible, but it won’t be immediate. The forensics team estimates a minimum of twenty-four hours before we can extract anything usable.”

Megure nodded. “So we wait.”

“For now,” Kazami agreed.