Just take this. It took a year to write.

Also, this chapter will probably answer a lot of the questions, particularly it will reveal one of the movies that are considered canon in the 'verse! Also, if you manage to catch all the puns Hakuba makes this chapter, give yourself a cookie, or whatever kids these days like. Most of them were unintentional, I swear.

number hint: The Suspicious Deduction

Tell me a piece of your history that you're proud to call your own

Speak in words you picked up as you walked through life alone

Chapter 7: What Fills the Silence

[8907]: It's as you thought. One of the guests saw him yesterday.

[4856]: Anything left?

[8907]: Tire tracks. Going up the mountain.

[4856]: What's up the mountain?

[8907]: Checking now.

Before returning to Japan, the idea of a bullet train had been a little out-there. Cool, certainly, but England was still very much a country of old-fashioned engines. He had remembered high-speed transit, of course, but it had seemed so distant with thousands of miles of land and ocean between him and Japan.

He'd even looked forward to riding them again, when he finally decided to return, and hopped on the first one he had an excuse enough to board.

Despite the novelty, it had been a terribly mundane experience.

But that Saguru had never once considered that he might someday ride a bullet train with the Kaitou KID absent-mindedly shuffling a deck of cards across from him.

Honestly, Saguru was a little surprised Kuroba had even bothered to show up on the boarding platform. He had expected Kuroba to escape by faking a cold or conveniently not getting on the train before the doors closed.

And, clearly, Kuroba didn't want to go to Osaka. He'd been grudging all week, ever since they started the investigation. He'd made it clear that he didn't want to pursue this case, but he was still coming along. And everyone knew that Kuroba didn't do anything he didn't want to do, not unless he had to. Kuroba's uncharacteristic presence was more unnerving than it was comforting for that very reason; Kuroba felt he had to come, which suggested only one thing: Saguru was still being tailed.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Saguru said, once the train was well on its way and Saguru got sick of ruminating over his own ignorance and failing to find anything suspicious about the other passengers in the cabin.

Kuroba blinked, slow and meaningful, with aggravation settling over his features like a familiar blanket. "Hah?" The disgruntled sound made it perfectly clear that Kuroba would have probably been fine continuing this whole trip in silence.

Well, too bad.

"I expected you to make some excuse and ditch me the moment Aoko-kun was out of sight." It had happened before. Aoko's miraculous ability to occasionally reign in their resident chaotic neutral was not something easily replicated.

Kuroba rolled his eyes, too nonchalantly. Saguru thought he could see tension in the other's shoulders, but between Kuroba's slouched posture and his jacket, it was hard to tell. "Who says I don't still plan to?"

"Not even you will have an easy time getting off a bullet train."

"…You'd be surprised."

God, what did that mean? But now that he thought about it, hadn't one of KID's heists taken place on a train? "I feel like there are multiple stories of dubious legality there."

Kuroba awarded him a vicious grin for that comment. "Please, Hakuba. I might be a bit of a trickster, but I'm still just an average high school student." His voice was laced with mock modesty.

Saguru crossed his arms, giving his best dubious look. "There's nothing average about you."

If anything, Kuroba's grin widened to near impossible proportions. "My, Hakuba-kun, was that a compliment?"

"The opposite actually." If Kuroba were average, he wouldn't be the prime suspect of countless cases of grand larceny.

Wouldn't that be something?

Moreover, if Kuroba were average, the conversation wouldn't have veered so off course of Saguru's original intentions. With just a couple throwaway words, he'd derailed from the topic entirely.

Well, Saguru was a detective, so he did what detective's did best: got to the damn point, forthright. "I'll come right out and say it. My deduction is that you're not hanging around out of any interest in this case or willingness to spend time with me. You're still here because—" He hesitated, trying to find words that would seem mundane if someone else were listening in, "because of our chaperone."

For a moment, there was quiet. Saguru waited for the other to speak, but instead Kuroba gave him a heavy-lidded look, before turning his gaze back out the window lazily. "Am I right?" Saguru prompted, unsure of how to interpret that unfathomable gaze.

"You're the detective, aren't you? Have a little confidence in your truth." Kuroba drawled dispassionately, before a mean smile twisted on the corners of his lips. "But you're wrong."

Saguru ignored the clear jibe, confident that he was at least on the right track. "…About which part?"

"Figure it out, Sherlock."

Saguru doubted he was wrong about his last point. And while flattering as the thought of Kuroba being willing to pursue their bizarre friendship might be, it wasn't just improbable: it was downright whimsical. Kuroba was too calculating a person to waste a weekend trying to make nice with Saguru.

But in terms of interest in the case…

Saguru was wrong to imply that Kuroba was disinterested, when he was just as involved as any of them, though on the other end of the spectrum. Rather, Kuroba seemed inclined to see the case go unsolved.

The recurring question was why.

Pity answers were hard to come by these days.

Saguru considered it. Kuroba Kaito and Kudo Shinichi: they bore a strange resemblance to each other, in both face and fate.

"Did you ever meet him? Kudo Shinichi?" Saguru asked the question not truly expecting an honest reply; everything Kuroba said and did was carefully constructed to mislead. He just wanted it out there, and out of his head.

Kuroba gave him a dubious look. "Hmm? Why would I have? The guy's, like, a celebrity." That, as predicted, was not a straight answer in the least.

"I saw the way you looked, that night of the KID heist. You looked really angry."

"I just didn't like the way those bastards were talking about killing people." Fair enough. Kuroba was a lot of things, but he had his own ideas about justice. "I've never met him."

"Do you want to? Meet him?" Saguru tried to imagine it. Surely a clash between Kudo and Kuroba, at a heist or not, had to be nothing less than spectacular. "I'd like to." The simple statement came out more earnestly than he intended it to. Saguru had always admired Kudo's work, from afar, and respected the young man's reputation and prestige as well earned. But before coming upon this case, he had never considered actually seeking the other out. Somehow, even after his return to Japan, Kudo Shinichi had seemed like a distant, illusive concept. But the way circumstances had turned, he couldn't deny the simple, curious desire.

What was Kudo like, in person? Did he feel pressured and unsure around his peers, and then fall into pretentious speech patterns that alienated the very people he was trying to impress, like Saguru did? Or was he more like Kuroba, who always got caught up in his own quick thoughts that he was already finished with each conversation before anyone else had a chance to participate?

Or was he another beast entirely? And was it already too late to find out?

Across from him, Kuroba exhaled a soft breath. The sigh was somehow ambiguous, but maybe there was something wistful in the way his brow furrowed. "…Yeah. I think I would."

Out of everything else Kuroba had said, those words struck Saguru as the most honest.

"Then let's hope he's still alive."

For a moment, there was quiet. Saguru tried to close his eyes, or look away, but as always he was hyper vigilant of his companion. Trying to find something, anything that hinted at Kuroba's true nature.

Nothing. Kuroba had long abandoned his shuffling, and instead was messing around with some sort of handheld 3D puzzle. He attacked the puzzle with little grace, applying pressure to each piece before one of them yielded and clicked out of place. It fell apart in his hands.

Kuroba looked back to him, already fitting the unwieldy piece back together without so much as a glance down. "Think this Hattori guy might really know something?"

Good question. "Hard to say." It was Hattori after all.

"Eh? Come on, you've met him, haven't you?" Kuroba scowled. "You're both detectives; I thought you'd have more faith in him."

"Don't compare me with him." It was aggravating to be equated to the likes of Hattori, when Saguru was clearly the superior detective, at least in temperament. Well, maybe that wasn't fair, Hattori had proved himself as...something at the Detective Koshien. "Hattori and I are very different kinds of detectives. He's—" Saguru broke off, flushing when he noticed Kuroba's mocking grin. His companion seemed delighted by his defensiveness. Arsehole. "Anyway, our methods are incomparable. I have no idea what sort of conclusions he could have possibly come to, or what he might be hiding."

Kuroba burst out a laugh. "Well, this is new! It's a strange day that Hakuba Saguru admits to not understanding somebody."

Saguru could feel his cheeks burning. "I didn't say that."

"You totally did."

"Shut up, Kuroba."

[8907]: We have a problem.

[4856]: What is it?

The girl, Toyama, had sent him a time and a place to meet at: a soba restaurant, and the promise of a good meal and the best damn tour of Osaka they'd ever take. Saguru didn't recall asking for either, but at this point felt like it would be rude to argue with someone who was already doing him a favor.

They found the restaurant easily, close to the station as it was, and as they settled into a booth to wait for their guide, Saguru took another moment to observe his companion. Kuroba seemed more uneasy than before, but unpackaging that took some serious consideration. After all, that Kuroba was showing his emotions more easily might mean that he was in fact feeling more at ease, and therefore was less careful with controlling his body language. Or it could mean their situation was really, really bad and Saguru should maybe be calling the cops.

A toss up, really. Thankfully, their guide came in before he could think too hard about it.

Toyama turned out to be a bubbly, outgoing young lady who took to the role of tour guide with gusto. She carried herself with a sort of eager, but tentative confidence only teenage girls could manage, simultaneously endearing and overbearing.

Saguru took to her immediately. He had always been better at first meetings than at seconds.

Kuroba didn't seem to care in the least. His sometimes friend, sometimes adversary was trying to act relaxed, but there was no mistaking the tight coiling of his muscles, the slightly rigid posture, and the way he didn't just dive right into the conversation: the message was clear, and it was no doubt a message. They still weren't safe.

Kuroba's unusual tension put Saguru on edge as well, but he forced his nerves down and made pleasant small chat with Toyama until their food arrived.

As they ate, though, Saguru took the chance to properly question their guide. "Toyama-chan, have you ever met Kudo Shinichi?"

Toyama made a face as she took a mouthful of noodles. "Ran-chan's boyfriend? Yeah. Just a couple of times, though," Aggravation made her brow crease. "You wouldn't think so, considerin' how often he comes up in conversation."

"What do you mean?"

The girl sighed. "Heiji goes on and on about Kudo constantly. I totally thought Kudo was girl Heiji was in love wit' at first. He's always on the phone with 'im too." Saguru blinked. He had assumed the two were close; Hattori had given the impression before, but not that close. He hadn't considered the possibility of a romantic entanglement.

That would make things rather complicated. Instead of ruminating over jealousy-prompted suspicions of the blurred line between friendship and romance, he focused on what wasn't conjecture. "They speak often?"

"All the time!" Toyama tossed her ponytail like a disgruntled horse, the red ribbon in her hair gleaming in the light. "The only person that probably calls Kudo more is Ran-chan."

Kudo took a lot of phone calls for a supposed dead man, or even one in hiding. "You said you met him? When? He's…" He trailed off, not wanting to say anything she didn't know, or he shouldn't know.

Thankfully, Toyama nodded sagely, filling in the blanks. "A hard guy ta find, right? Trust me, I've heard it all from Ran-chan. And it's totally true! One moment he's there, and next thing ya know he's gone and you don't see 'im again for months." That was indeed the impression Saguru was getting. "I'd say Ran-chan is too good for a guy like that, but well, Kudo is a good guy when he's around."

Kuroba spluttered into his soba, swallowing down a mouthful too quickly. "He is?"

"Surprised?" Toyama muttered ruefully. Kuroba was a little too surprised by the assertion, frankly. Toyama breathed in through her nose and back out, her green eyes heavy lidded. "He once saved my life, ya know. There was this mess a while back with a case. Someone was tryin' to kill Heiji. I figured somethin' out, but ended up getting kidnapped." The admission didn't seem to bother Toyama very much. She spoke of the incident very casually. "They tried to use me as bait to get Heiji, but Kudo showed up instead."

"Kudo saved you?" Saguru repeated, trying to imagine it. Somehow, with everything going on, he'd forgotten that there were countless witness reports of Kudo's heroics and chivalry. Saving a girl he barely knew—was that really something an imposter would do?

Toyama nodded. A slight smile was pulling at the edges of her lips, like she found the story funny but knew she really shouldn't have. "He distracted the bad guys by dressin' up as Heiji." Interesting. So Kudo had some level of experience with disguise. "Once Heiji got there, he told Kudo to scram. I think 'cause Kudo wasn't doing too well. He was sick again." The sickness Ran had noticed as well. So, it was prevalent even in Toyama's encounters with the evasive Kudo, despite the time in between the sightings.

"Again?" Kuroba said, looking dubious.

"Kudo is always sick. He needs to eat more green onion or somthin'." That probably wasn't the problem.

Deliberating over the tale, Saguru hummed. "That's quite the story."

"Hmph!" Toyama made a disbelieving sound. "Ya think that was weird? A haven't even heard about the case with the shiragami."

"What's that?" Kuroba asked. Saguru hadn't heard such a thing either.

"The other time I met Kudo. We were lookin' into one of Kudo's old cases, one we were told he got wrong."

"Kudo was wrong?" Again, Kuroba choked. He should really have been eating slower.

"You don't need ta sound so shocked! But, no, he was right in the end, I guess-" Toyama broke off, brow twisting in consternation. Saguru knew that face. He saw it on police men all the time. "I don't know, it was complicated."

"What happened?" Saguru prompted, honing in on every word Toyama said, and all the things she wasn't saying.

"There was this crazy guy with a grudge against Kudo. Locked himself up in a cabin and haunted the local forests as this shiragami character. He got plastic surgery to look just like Kudo, then tried to frame Kudo for murder."

"...What?" What was this, an episode of Scooby Doo?

"Seriously! That happened!" Toyama puffed out a frustrated breath, apparently aghast with the surrealistic twist of her own life. "He pretended to be Kudo, but without any memories and a raspy voice. It was freaky." Freaky was one word for it.

But this? This was riveting. An actual impersonator with Kudo's face. If it could be done once then it could be done twice. Saguru needed to know more—no, he needed to know everything. "Who was with you when this happened?"

"Uhh, Heiji, and Ran-chan and her family. Kudo himself showed up eventually, to catch the criminal." Kudo showed up to catch a fake Kudo. Was there a better way of establishing one's own validity of identity than proving oneself against an imitator?

"What was Ran's reaction to the fake Kudo?" It was strange to say fake Kudo in reference to someone besides Kudo. Every time he thought this case couldn't get any more bizarre...

"She was really confused. We all were. We had no idea what happened to Kudo, or where he had been, so we had no clue what was going on. Ran, though, I think she sort of knew it wasn't 'im."

"How did she know? Did he do something Kudo wouldn't do?"

"Ahh, how to explain it? It wasn't a logic thing. It was more like, when you've haven't seen someone in a long time, ya start to see them everywhere. But then you really do see them again and you just know it's them, ya know?"

No. Saguru really had no idea.

He caught Kuroba's eye. Kuroba shrugged and did some strange movements with his nose and eyebrows. Essentially indecipherable, but Saguru got the memo: this girl was crazy.

No, what Toyama was describing wasn't anything deluded or unnatural; it was simply her interpretation. Toyama was having trouble putting the real phenomenon into words.

Most people in the world were not trained detectives with the skill of observation honed to mastery. But in truth, everyone observed others. Mouri Ran had been inseparable from Kudo Shinichi for the majority of both their lives: she probably knew him, from his habits to his tells to his micro expressions, better than anyone else in the world. Even if she didn't consciously realize how much she knew and observed about Kudo, it was not impossible that her subconscious recognized and didn't recognize things she consciously overlooked.

But that led to an interesting question: did that mean the elusive Kudo had to be real, or was he just that much of a better mimic?

There were too many unknowns to come even close to a satisfactory conclusion. It was practically giving him a headache.

Saguru focused on something simple, straight-forward, and unworrying: his noodles. The rest of the story could wait.

[8907]: Shit.

MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND.

[8907]: Typical.

MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND.

It felt the world was shaking under her feet. Which was weird, because she'd seen more than her fair share of bodies before this one. But this one, this one really stepped up the whole horror factor. It was bloody, it was old, and it was rotting.

Masumi pushed her revulsion down, ignored the turning of her stomach, and took a step into the dark room. It was simple lounge, dusty and out of use. The furniture was old and covered in sheets, the windows locked shut and shuttered, and the lightbulbs burned out: probably next on the list for renovations.

The victim was a man in his late twenties, maybe thirties. He was stocky with a large, steady build, and a close-cropped hair cut. Former military? Maybe. His hands bore the callouses for it, and he had the muscle mass.

No sign of the murder weapon, but plenty of blood splatter. It had been a messy death.

That was as far as she got before she heard the pounding of too many foot-steps. The other guests had arrived.

"Is everybody alright?" Someone shouted-Mariko, Masumi remembered. The artist.

"We heard screaming." The whole group of older guests gathered around the open door, some gasping for breath. Ran, pale, guided Sonoko out of the way. Akako and Aoko were still in the bathroom, most likely.

"What is that smell?" Someone asked, and then, one by one, they looked. Masumi watched the reaction of each guest carefully, eyes scanning over the group. Most went pale, gasping in horror, others kept their color but were wide-eyed, gripping each other with tight fingers. Nothing unusual, nothing suspicious.

Mariko, though, went completely white, her mouth twisting open in a pained wail. "Arata!" she screamed, rushing forward, but one of the men, Takahashi, caught her by the arm, pulling her back.

"Don't!"

"Let me go! Arata! Arata!"

"Call the police!" Masumi's harsh voice broke through the chaos and stilled everyone. Most stared at her blankly, unmoving, but two scrambled for their phones. While they did that, Masumi turned to Mariko. "Did you know the victim?"

Mariko was shaking, eyes blown wide and locked on the body, nearing hysteria."Th-that's my brother. Oh god, Arata."

The topiarist's brother. Masumi could vaguely remember him being mentioned earlier. "Okay, I need everyone to step out of the room. This is a crime scene, we can't mess with it. The police?"

She looked to the two who had taken out their phones: Takahashi and Oshiro. Takahashi met her eyes. He was three shades too pale, and his hands were shaking around his phone. "No signal."

Masumi glared. "Find some!" At her barked command, the two turned on the heels and dashed back down the hallway. Watching them with a bad feeling, Masumi turned back to the others. "Alright, everybody downstairs, now. Stay together. Nobody leaves, got it?" She made pointed eye contact with Ran, who gave her a shaky nod. Ran was in this situation often enough to know the drill, so Masumi could count on her to keep things together.

Ran herded everyone back down the hall, though Mariko had to be all but physically lifted and carried. Letting them go, Masumi turned back to the grisly scene before her. Good thing she carried a pair of latex gloves in her pocket.

Pulling them on, and using the flashlight on her phone to get a better look at things, she began the initial inspection. The victim was lying on his back, arms by his sides. The corpse was already discolored, so it was hard to judge whether the blue spotted on his arms was truly bruising. Had there been a struggle? The victim's clothes, a simple T-shirt and jeans, were rumpled, but there were no obvious rips or tears, just the harsh stain of dried blood. He'd started to bloat, and when she touched his arm, she found that while it was stiff, it seemed to be in the process of loosening.

The wound itself was nasty and jagged, not a clean cut. It hadn't been a sharp, well-crafted knife, and the movement must have been jerky. That suggested the victim had been struggling after all, but Masumi couldn't find an evidence of restraints.

But the more she looked at the blue marking the victim's wrists, the more she thought it looked like the imprint of fingers.

Initial investigation of the carpet turned up nothing but blood, dust, and some gravely dirt that matched the grime lining the victim's shoes.

He had no wallet on him, or ID. In fact, his pockets were completely empty.

"Sera-san!" She heard Ran's voice calling from down the hall, sounding nervous. Immediately, Masumi was back on her feet and out the door. Ran was running her way, followed by a handful of the adults, including a wet-eyed Mariko. Aoko and Akako had rejoined the group as well, but Aoko still looked like she was going to be sick any moment.

"What is it?" Don't tell her, another murder...

"There's no cell signal anywhere. Data's out too. We can't reach anybody." Ran said, lifting up her phone to show the damning no signal sign sitting in the corner of her screen.

The villa didn't have Internet either. There was no way to contact the police.

This was bad. And worse, this was planned: it had to be.

Silence reigned for a moment as everyone took in those implications. Then, one of the men, Oshiro, glanced at Masumi's hands. "Gloves?"

"For investigating the crime scene."

Oshiro stared at her. "What?"

Ran cut in, used to that kind of reaction and always quick to explain. "Ah, Sera-san here is a detective. She's handled many cases before this one."

Masumi didn't miss how many shoulders around her suddenly rose as everyone went tense. Particularly, Mariko, who had seemed to have withdrawn herself, seemed to come back aware. There was a desperate, rabid edge to her face as she turned to Masumi. "Then, did you figure anything out? Do you know who killed Arata?"

If only it were so easy. Masumi shook her head, carefully keeping her voice low and calming so as not to incense the woman. "I was just checking out the corpse. There's very little by way of evidence that I can find just from sight." Masumi turned back to lounge, eyes immediately drawn to the vicious slice taken out of the victim's throat. The police were out of reach and she was the only experienced sleuth in the building: this case fell to her and her alone.

It wasn't often that Masumi had to take on murder cases by herself. She tended to handle small investigations, like background checks and discomfiting rumors. When she came across a murder scene, it was usually an accident, and the police were almost always quick to arrive, if they weren't on the scene already. There was a certain surety that came with working alongside the police; security was maybe the better word for it. Her brother or mother was usually just a text away, and often she had Conan by her side as well.

Now she was here, without any support. She was on her own.

It was about time she proved her mettle as a detective, she supposed.

Taking a quiet breath and ignoring how the air tasted sour in her mouth, Masumi stepped back into the room, fully aware of the eyes locked on her back.

"But going on the progression of rigor mortis, I'd estimate that he's been dead at least two days. Probably three." Masumi said, carefully releasing the victim's arm. The pale flesh still slapped on the floor like raw meat, and part of her winced. No amount of corpses could have prepared her for something like this.

"What?" Mariko exclaimed, turning to look at her with a furious face. "If you don't know what you're talking about, get the hell away from him!"

Masumi pulled back, away from the red-faced woman, hands instinctually rising in a placating motion. "Hey, now-"

"This isn't some kind of joke, my brother's dead!" Mariko's face was contorted in a vicious snarl, her eyes bright and red with tears. The words hit harder than the anger, though: Masumi could remember clearly the horrible, crushing grief that had hit her in the wake of the news about Shuu's death, and how she'd initially lashed out at everyone and everything. To see that same pain reflected back at her hurt.

Ran cut in, her soft features hardened with a maturity that surpassed her age, but her voice was gentle and comforting. "Mariko-san, I promise you that Sera-san is a capable detective. She knows what she's doing."

"Like hell! Three days? That's impossible!" Mariko wasn't eased, though. If anything, she was just getting angrier. "My brother was still in the hospital Thursday night!"

"Is that true?"

Masumi didn't need confirmation, she remembered now. Yamaguchi Arata was supposed to be hospitalized in Tokyo. So why was he here, hours of travel away, dead?

One of the men bit his lip, looking contemplative. When Masumi caught his eye, he folded. "Uh, actually, I...I saw him just yesterday."

Mariko turned on him next, her shoulders shaking. "You saw him yesterday? But you were here yesterday, Oshiro-san!"

"Yeah, I saw him hanging out by the trees. I thought it was weird, but I figured he was just coming to see you, Mariko-san."

Nagano stepped in. Her expression was open and quietly concerned. "You must have been mistaken, there's no way—"

"No, he's right." One of the other guests cut in, someone Masumi didn't know the name of. She did recall him talking with Mariko earlier, when they were all going about their duties. "I saw him yesterday too."

Masumi took another glance at the body, hyperaware of her fingers and how his body had felt underneath the thin plastic of her gloves. His body had been slackening, his joints relaxing. The stench itself was so pervasive, too. "But rigor mortis has already progressed so far. If he'd been killed sometime in the last twenty-four hours, his body would be stiff for a long time, over a day at least. He wouldn't start going limp again like this until the second or third day."

They all looked at each other, and the body, uneasily.

There had to be some explanation. A trick to obscure the time of death? Masumi had heard of tricks to delay the onset of rigor mortis, but speeding it up? How did that work?

Rigor mortis was caused on a cellular level: without ATP production, the myosin in muscle cells couldn't change configuration, making the muscles rigid and stiff. It took hours for the cells to degrade enough to loosen.

Was it something in the environment? Something the victim had consumed?

Masumi didn't have nearly enough information for this.

She had to focus on what she could do right now. "Alright, let's head back downstairs to the others." Catching Mariko's harsh look, Masumi amended, "all of us."

As they migrated back to the comfort of the living room, Masumi turned her mind to the next problem: how did they lose cellular signal?

Was there any other way to contact the police?

As everyone settled down, all looking somewhere between sick and uneasy, she turned to Sonoko. "What about the landline?"

Sonoko shook her head. "We got rid of that months ago, after..." Sonoko trailed off, giving Ran a loaded look that was obviously understood. Ran winced, but before Masumi could ask, Aoko spoke.

"We had cell reception just an hour or so ago...I sent a text to my friends." Why did the reception suddenly disappear? The weather outside was still fine, if windy and cold. They were deep in the woods though, and nestled on the slope of an isolated mountain, but there must have been a cell tower nearby. Maybe there was one, higher up the mountain.

Masumi wished she had looked for one over the tree line, but it hadn't occurred to her that something like this might become a problem.

Had something happened to it?

Masumi watched uneasy faces shift around the room, everyone starting to look drawn and exhausted. The happy, friendly atmosphere that had permeated the manor earlier had long faded with the dwindling sunlight.

It was going to be one of those nights.

Toyama brought them to meet Hattori after the meal. Surprisingly, they weren't going to his house or anything, and instead took a series of subways and buses to the edge of the city. Saguru watched the downtown pass them by with only half an eye until they crossed the Yodo River and could see the deadlock traffic of the Meishin Expressway shining in the distance. Toyama led them off from there, into broad parking lot off to the side of the highway and into a mall-style building.

"What are we doing here?" Kuroba asked as they entered into a rest stop area, lined with cafeteria style restaurants and travelers lounging around and over tables.

"Heiji should be here, somewhere." Toyama replied, going on her tiptoes to better survey the wide, bustling room, "He's workin' on some case of somethin' or another. Questionin' rest stops all along the highway."

"Why?" Saguru asked, considering. Hattori must have been performing a preliminary investigation, which always required a lot of tedious footwork. Saguru himself had just traveled for hours to reach the other side of the country to investigate a case for which he was not even getting paid.

"He's searchin' for somebody, I think." Weren't they all.

Saguru glanced around the room, noting a modest fountain surrounded by broadleaf shrubs sitting decoratively in the middle of the cafeteria. There were a couple simple gift shops along with the fast food stands, as well as a handful of vending machines. Various people were scattered throughout the area, but Hattori was easy to spot among them.

His fellow teen detective had not changed much since their last meeting: average height, dark-skinned with striking eyes and thick brows, partially concealed underneath a green baseball cap. He was speaking with one of the restaurant workers, some kind of paper held in his hands.

"Seems we've found him." Saguru muttered, catching Toyama's attention and directing to her where her friend stood, showing the paper to the worker with a frown. She brightened at the sight of him.

"Oi, Heiji!" Toyama called and took off towards her friend, waving wildly as Saguru hurried behind. Hattori glanced up, then dismissed the worker with a couple quick words. Saguru noted the way he tucked the paper into his pocket as he turned towards them.

"Yo, Kazuha." Hattori greeted, carelessly, as Toyama sidled up to his side. They moved naturally in each other's space, like puzzle pieces clicking in place. "Hakuba." The greeting was cold, accompanied by Hattori scrunching up his nose in distaste. The feeling was mutual.

"Hattori-kun," Saguru said with a layer of polite amiability that he didn't quite feel, "It's good to see you again. I'm sorry to interrupt one of your investigations like this."

Hattori, to his credit, didn't buy the charm, but didn't outright deny it either. He shrugged, shoulders lifting and dropping just a tad too stiffly. "Nah, it's cool. Wasn't really getting anywhere anyway." He glanced around Saguru and balked, eyes going wide with surprise. "Ku-Kudo?" He stuttered, shocked, at Kuroba, who was lethargically catching up to them.

"No!" Toyama hissed.

At the same time, Saguru shook his head. "This is my classmate, Kuroba Kaito." The surprise was unexpected. Hattori supposedly interacted with Kudo quite a bit, so why was he so taken aback by the sight of him? It didn't make sense, unless Hattori really did know something the rest of them didn't.

"Yo!" Kuroba greeted, grinning mischievously. The mix-up seemed to have alleviated his bad mood momentarily. Unsurprising, Saguru mused, since baffling people always managed to cheer him up immensely.

Hattori stared for a moment, obviously still reeling, before he got a hold of himself and cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you." He muttered, before refocusing on Saguru. "The Mouri girl said ya wanted to speak wit' me?"

"Yes, if that's all right." Saguru tried his best to give a friendly smile before giving Kuroba a look and motioning to Toyama with his eyes.

Going by the twitch in Kuroba's brow, he understood. Theatrically, he groaned and turned to Toyama, who gave him a sympathetic look. "Ugh, straight to detective business already? These guys are no fun. Wanna go check out the shops, Toyama-chan? I want a couple souvenirs." Toyama seemed relieved by the off, and she happily led Kuroba off towards the shops. Hattori watched them, suspicion and wariness clear upon his face.

Saguru doubted Hattori had missed their brief exchange; there was no mistaking the confrontational slope to Hattori's shoulders as he led Saguru to one of the tables. "So, what do ya want?" His tone was too tight to be careless, Saguru noted, layered with faux ease. Hattori was not a careful individual, nor was he a duplicitous one. In fact, Hattori was one of the bluntest and direct people Saguru had ever met in Japan. That Hattori was trying to hide his wariness spoke volumes.

"To question you, actually." Saguru had his own ways of being direct.

"About what?"

"About Kudo Shinichi." There was no mistaking the way Hattori stiffened, his whole body going rigid. His abrasiveness was a lot easier to take at its face value, completely unlike Kuroba's. Carefully, he controlled his facial expression, showing nothing but the slightest tightening around the lips and eyes.

Saguru maintained his neutral, confident smile, enjoying an easy mark after long hours with Kuroba.

Hattori seemed to realize he'd already given himself away, though, and gave up on hiding his defensiveness. He met Saguru's eyes with blatant hostility. "And what exactly does someone like you want with Kudo?"

"Simply his side of a story." Saguru had spent days planning what to say to Hattori, going through the questions he wanted to ask and the observations he wanted to make. In the end, though, he found there was no way of predicting how this conversation would go. "There was an assault a year ago, at Tropical Land." He watched Hattori's face closely. Just for a moment, he caught a flash of recognition, before it disappeared back under the mask of cool hostility. Hattori was not a very good liar.

Hattori shrugged, feigning indifference. The act was almost laughable in comparison to the usual façade's Saguru had to see through. "What's a simple cold assault case got to do with Kudo? Or you?"

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" The American turn of phrase, and the smug way Saguru said it, only seemed to incite Hattori further.

"Well, I can't help ya. I dunno where Kudo is, and I'm sure the Mouri girl gave ya his number." Saguru felt his smile fade, wishing he could replay the way Hattori said that statement, the way his eyes shifted, over and over again and properly analyze it. Was it a lie?

Hard to say. And yet, Saguru couldn't help but think it was.

"He's not answering." Kudo had been stubbornly dodging Saguru's calls. Because of course nothing in Saguru's life could be that simple. "How you and Kudo know each other?" He wanted to ask the question less delicately, wanted to glare into Hattori's eyes and demand to know what the hell was going on.

Thankfully, Saguru had all the practice in the world at being polite.

Hattori frowned at him. "Why does that matter?"

Then again, sometimes playing nice got nowhere. Saguru took a breath, and let the amiability fade. He stared Hattori right in the eye, just to make sure the other detective knew just how serious he was. "It matters because it seems you're one of very few people to come in contact with Kudo Shinichi over the past year. His classmates? His friends? His neighbors? None of them can attest to seeing Kudo more than once since he vanished a year ago." And no one cared. Everyone that should care was being kept carefully complacent with bizarre phone calls and suspicious encounters. "And then there is you, who, by the sound of things, has met with him often." Everyone else, everyone, had noted that Kudo was hard to find recently. Everyone except Hattori, how just shrugged and said he didn't know. "Is that not suspicious?"

Hattori glared at him, outright, but gave nothing else away. "It's not any of your business." A strange, antagonistic staring contest began between them. Hattori broke away first, relaxing back into his chair. "Look, I dunno what you wanna hear. What Kudo does is up to 'im. I ain't his keeper."

If he weren't talking to another detective, Saguru might have believed that. But he was, so it was complete bull. If something like Kudo's disappearance happened to one of his classmates, Saguru wouldn't rest until he'd figured out the truth. "Toyama-chan told us a funny story, about the shiragami case. About how you, finding your friend in a criminally-implicating situation, decided to hide him from the police." Toyama hadn't said much about it, shrugging Hattori's blatant avoidance of the law off, but Saguru couldn't shake the image of Hattori hiding a bloodstained Kudo Shinichi in a car trunk out of his mind.

Hattori's eyes cut to where Kuroba and Toyama were touring between shops across the cafeteria, obviously frustrated. Saguru felt a little bad, then, for throwing his helpful guide under the bus. Hopefully, Hattori would just blame Saguru for being needling and not Toyama for being gossipy.

After moment of stilted silence, Hattori looked back at him. There was a storm in his turquoise eyes. "What are you implying?"

Saguru took another breath. "Are you protecting Kudo Shinichi? Hiding him?" It was a new theory, not something they had considered before Toyama had spilled everything over lunch. But it was a distinct possibility.

For a long, quiet moment, neither of them did anything, the words settling between them like a tray set on the table. Hattori's posture was still stiff and angry, but he'd been like that all along. His expression seemed crafted from cold, harsh steel.

Finally, Hattori spoke, voice surprisingly even and soft. "I wonder what a guy like ya woulda done in my situation back then. Guessin' you'd leave your buddy," Hattori motioned to Kuroba with a jerk of his head, "to get caught and crucified with no hope of provin' his innocence." Saguru flinched, catching himself too late. Hattori's eyes were copper sharp, ascertaining that Saguru's brief show of weakness was on full display. "But me? I look out for my friends. All of them. Maybe you don't know what that is like." Saguru bristled, indignation making his blood rush and his face flush. He clenched his fists on the table. "So yeah, I am protectin' Kudo, which is exactly why I'm not gonna tell shit ta a guy like you."

He swallowed his outrage, reaching for that calm that usually came so easily to him, even in times of great pressure and stress. "Uncovering the truth is a detective's job."

Hattori's mouth twisted, caught somewhere between a snarl and a smile. "No, it ain't. Not at the cost of people's lives." He stood abruptly. Saguru, still struggling with that final word, followed his gaze to where Toyama and Kuroba were making their way back to them, chatting cheerfully. "Yo, Kazuha!" He yelled, meeting them half way. "We're leavin'!"

Toyama gaped. "Eh? Hold on, Heiji. I promised I'd show them around—"

"Doesn't matter!"

"Don't be so rude!" The two of them paused to argue, and Kuroba sidled up to Saguru's side, one eyebrow cocked questioningly.

"That seemed intense." He said, voice neutral.

Saguru swallowed. His throat was suddenly very dry. "Yes. Yes, it was."

"You alright?"

"Completely. Let's stop them before Hattori storms off. I still have a lot of things to ask him."

"You just can't let things lie, huh." Kuroba didn't sound entirely exasperated. Suddenly, though, he went very stiff, eyes wide.

"Kuroba?" Saguru felt a cool rush of dread, his skin crawling. He didn't like that expression one bit. He followed Kuroba's eyes to Hattori and Kazuha, and then beyond. In the mess of people in the cafeteria, a man in a motorcycle helmet stood a distance away, his visor a sheet of black.

Everything he wore was black.

"Get down!" Kuroba yelled, dashing forward as the man's arm rose.

He was holding a gun.

Kuroba crashed into the arguing pair as they turned to look at him, surprised, and dragged them to the ground just as the deafening crack of a gunshot echoed in the room.

Saguru hit the floor hard, not sure when or how. Already, Kuroba was stooping back up, hurling something in the shooter's direction, even as several more shots tore through the air. People were screaming and yelling all around them; Saguru couldn't keep track of it all.

Smoke erupted everywhere, filling the air with clouds of white. There was a cacophony of noise, chairs scraping and people running and yelling. In the chaos, a hand seized Saguru's arm and dragged him under a table. He tried to yell, but choked on the smoke and forced himself to quiet as he recognized Kuroba's face in the haze.

"Everybody okay?" Kuroba asked, and that's when Saguru realized Hattori and Toyama were there too. Toyama's face had gone very pale, and Hattori's expression had shifted into a grave fury that made his previous glares look friendly.

"Yeah. Thanks." Hattori said. He was peering into the smoke, searching vainly for a figure in black to come bursting through the murky white.

If that had been one of Kid's usual smoke bombs, they only had roughly thirty seconds of cover left.

"We have to get out of here." Saguru said.

"We have to stop that guy before someone gets hurt." Hattori hissed back. Saguru might have agreed if the man had been wielding a pistol, but that had been an assault rifle in the man's hands.

"It's probably too late for that. We might have ducked the shots, but I doubt anybody else did." Kuroba said, reasonably. Unflappable as ever.

"What do we do?" Toyama asked him. Her hands were clenched, her body tensed for something. She was martial artist as well, wasn't she? The kind of person who usually leaned towards fight over flight, like Hattori did.

Kuroba took a breath in through the nose, looking each of them in the eye seriously. "We get out of here. That guy was aiming for us."

Saguru felt his blood freeze.

"What?" Toyama gasped, even as Hattori reached out to grip her shoulder. He turned his eyes to Kuroba, severe.

"What makes you so sure?"

Kuroba shook his head. "There's no time for this. We have to make a break for the exit."

The smoke was already thinning. Saguru struggled to orient them, trying to figure out which way the exit was. Kuroba pointed them in the right direction, indigo eyes sharp and dark. "On the count of three, all four of us run, got it? Don't stop for anything."

They all nodded.

"3. 2. 1. Go!" As one, they burst into motion, dashing into the fading smoke. Saguru turned all his attention forward, refusing to think of where the shooter might be and instead focusing on dodging around tables and fallen chairs. He didn't think about all the people he passed either, terrified and confused. The best thing they could do for the bystanders was to get out.

And they almost did. They could see the door, glass shining in the afternoon sunlight.

And then they saw the figure guarding the door, a black stain against the hazy white and soft gold.

Saguru stumbled to a stop just two meters away, barely catching himself; they all did, freezing like deer as the shooter—the second, maybe, he was identical to the first—hoisted up his weapon.

Everything went so fast, and yet so slowly. Saguru could swear he could see the guard's finger tightening on the trigger as it leveled at the four of them. He should duck, dodge, something—

Then a fist struck the guard's side, hard and fast. Another hand seized him by the shoulder, just as the fist came again and snapped forward, right into the ball of his shoulder. They all flinched at the crack of the guard's shoulder dislocating, but the assailant didn't stop there, knocking the rifle out of the guards other hand and unleashing a quick barrage of jabs into his gut.

The shooter was knocked back into the door, screaming in pain. He forced open the door and scrambled away, around the corner, nursing his shoulder.

"Holy shit." Someone—Hattori said. Saguru felt his legs give out underneath him, sliding to the floor as he struggled to catch up with what just happened. Kuroba was by his side in an instant, catching him by the arm. Hattori had thrown himself in front of Toyama at some point, and they were curled together on the floor, shaking.

But they were alive.

"You kids alright?" an unfamiliar voice asked, and suddenly Saguru remembered their savior, who had so expertly disarmed and incapacitated the man about to kill them.

"Yes, thank you-" Saguru froze, staring up. The waiter from Poirot looked back, dark skin catching in unmistakable contrast with his platinum blond hair.

"Oh no." Kuroba whispered, and the hand around Saguru's bicep tightened, almost painfully. Kuroba was absolutely rigid, like a spring coiled to the point of near breaking under its own tension.

"Yeah." Saguru forced himself to say, "We're okay."

And they were going to stay that way.

Tell me a piece of your history that you've never said out loud,

It is not enough to be dumbstruck

done. it feels like i just crawled over a finish line. PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: England does have bullet trains lol. But i doubt Hakuba ever rode em.

Thanks for reading! C+C on the way out, and look forward to...

Next Chapter: The Osaka group struggles to survive the afternoon, and the Villa group struggles to survive the night. Where are the cops when you need 'em?