Written for Poirot Cafe's 6-8k Writing Competition #5 Haunted.

Special thank you to Taliya for betaing.

...

The minced pieces of flesh lay scatted across the floor. A lone ear had fallen between the cushions of the sofa, undisturbed and unnoticed for the moment. The blood had seeped into the old, Persian carpet and would squelch every time someone accidently walked on it – the footsteps visible to the naked eye for all to see minutes after. The murder weapons – an axe and a vicious-looking meat cleaver – rested innocently on top of the – previously – white table in front of the television.

The room was silent despite the half-dozen occupants. They stood along the outskirts of the room, nearly pressed to the walls I order to not disrupt the current activity. A lone figure stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed and head tilted to the side as though he was listening to someone unseen.

It was a young man, still in his late teens. His skin was ashen, a colour several shades too pale to look healthy. Dark rings circled his eyes, making his face look sunken and paper-like. Dark hair framed his face, the fringe styled into an impressive cowlick. He was dressed from head to toe in an untidy, dark-blue school uniform. A golden locket with a silver chain hung from his pocket.

From his corner of the room, Takagi Wataru fumbled nervously with his notebook. His fingers twitched around the pen he was clutching. His eyes were glued to the seventeen-year-old boy, where he stood concentrating in the middle of the room. Takagi's stomach fluttered apprehensively as it always did when waiting to hear Kudou Shinichi's deduction. He made the inspector nervous; there was something unnerving with the thought that someone possessed supernatural abilities.

For Kudou Shinichi did just that: he was a psychic. He conversed with the spirits of the dead, took in the aura of the room in order to solve any mystery. It was an impossible thought, and spoke of fiction in his mind. However, he had undisputable proof that it was real. He had witnessed it personally in several accounts, and he had somehow known when his grandmother had passed even before he had told Sato. No matter how improbable, all evidence pointed in one direction and one direction only.

Kudou Shinichi was a psychic.

As the thought crossed Takagi's mind, the teen opened his eyes. Almost as in in a trance, he walked across the floor, though not once did his footsteps falter as he smoothly avoided the bits of human limbs and blood. As he stalked out of the room, Takagi, Megure, and Sato hurried to follow in his footsteps.

In the hallway stood an assembly of people. The corridor was cut off with yellow police tape, and Takagi could see journalists and photographers gathered at the fringes, flashing their cameras at everything that moved. A lone window at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar, letting fresh air and sunlight filter in. It was too far away to reach the part of the room the gathering occupied.

Kudou stopped as he reached the group of people fluttering in a corner where the red-wallpaper had begun to peel with age. The first was an elderly couple living next to the deceased, Miuri Seika and his wife Tamiko. The wife had discovered the dead body.

Next to them, stood a young man in his mid-twenties – No Okitsugu. A gang-tattoo peeked up from underneath his shirt. He had a ring of sweat around his armpits from standing in the humid air. He eyed the police grumpily as he shifted his weight. Witnesses had informed the police he had been in a row with the deceased, Hirota Kanko, a few days prior.

Mita Reiko, a thiry-three-year-old businesswoman, lived in the apartment adjacent to the deceased. She had a bored expression plastered across her features. Her fingers twitched, as she had the urge to grab her mobile phone. There were rumours that she had had an affair with Hirota.

Murano Kaoru was the last of the group. A tall, stoic man in his early forties, his glasses looked far too large for his shrivelled face. He was the janitor, and had only worked there for scant weeks.

The silence felt as though it lasted forever as Kudou watched the group of suspects. He observed them through the fringes of his hair, eyes half-mast and cerulean orbs almost glittering in the artificial light overhead.

His lips started to stretch as a shiver shook through him, visible for all to see. His arm twitched slowly upwards as he pointed into the group. "The culprit – "

Takagi took a step forward, pen and paper ready to write down the details.

" – is you, Murano Kaoru."

Murano barely reacted as the teen spoke. His expression blanked as he eyed the boy warily with a building anger burning behind his eyes at the accusation. "I don't know who you think you are kid, but you cannot go around accusing left and right." He turned in the direction of Megure. "I don't know how you govern your police department, inspector Megure. But children should not be exposed to dangerous crime scenes."

Kudou dropped his arms and stared in silence. Behind his shoulder, Takagi shifted his weight as he glanced in the direction of Megure. The older man did not let his eyes stray from the suspect in front of him.

Takagi's lips twitched in uncertainty and he decided to make a note of the situation. Though the allegation seemed to him to come out of the blue, he was certain Kudou would never accuse anyone without rock solid evidence.

"I trust you have evidence of your accusation as always, Kudou-kun," Megure finally spoke with a low, controlled voice. His expression was unreadable, and Takagi knew he had been just as sceptic about having psychics running around his department; however, the teen had never let them down to date.

Kudou gave a slight nod in indication, but before he could respond, Murano narrowed his eyes as angry splotches appeared on his cheeks and he grimaced in fury, this time directed at the Inspector. "This is an outrage! You are taking the considerations of a mere boy over your trusted officers? He's just a child, you shouldn't let him near these atrocious scenes –"

Takagi took a step forward, his mouth already opening to come to his supervisor's defence. "You misunderstand, Murano-san. Kudou-kun isn't just a young man, but a psychic detective. He has access to resources we don't."

Kudou flinched, his head dropping with an unreadable expression. However, no one paid him any attention as Murano snorted in disbelief.

"The police department employs clairvoyants now? How ridiculous. You are just making excuse for your incompetence –"

Before the argument could accelerate, Kudou moved forward suddenly and put a hand carefully on Murano's shoulder. The janitor froze underneath his fingertips, mouth opening to shout at the teen, but the words died on his lips as Kudou started talking with a low, timbering voice.

"I know your name is really Shibata Hirokazu, and Hirota Kanko killed your daughter in a car accident. Hina-chan doesn't blame you for being too busy that day. She's at peace, playing with her puppy and her grandparents now."

Murano's – or Shibata's – eyes widened almost comically behind his too large glasses. His lips twitched in uncertainty as pain flashed across his eyes. A look of defeat and relief flooded through him – defeated at being caught killing a monster, but relief that he would no longer need to keep a terrible lie. A moment later his feet gave up under him and he crumbled to the floor in a tired heap. He grasped his face with his hands and let out a soft sob.

Kudou watched him silently for a moment before putting a hand on the man's dishevelled hair for a few seconds before turning to make way down the corridor. He seemed to sway as he walked, his face sunken in as he kept his eyes on the ground before him.

Takagi's stomach dropped as he watched him go. He could not imagine whatever the young psychic detective had seen in that bloodied room.

The sound of Hirota Kanko's hollow sobs followed Kudou Shinichi down the hallway. Later he would confess to taking the janitor job in order to get close to the deceased and get his revenge. The proof they needed had also been pointed out by the psychic. There had been some strange splotches of blood from where a can of custom-made laundry detergent had sat and which was later discovered in the janitor's closet.

…

The ring of the doorbell echoed through the empty house. Every insistent ring and knock of the door filled the empty space with even more deafening noise. The two-story building loomed on an otherwise silent corner at the end of a street filled with posh and expensive houses. A small, green garden accompanied the slot of land. In the back of the house lay an abandoned koi pond, now green and overgrown with weeds and algae.

The opening of the front door after several minutes put an end to the ringing, and the house was once more filled with silence and shadows where no artificial lights were lit. A tired looking teen glared out of the darkness from the opened crack of the door at the invaders.

"I said no."

This, however, did not deter Suzuki Sonoko as she only flashed him a grin in response. "Come along, Kudou-kun. I've got coffee in the car and picked up a fresh batch of those weird French cookies you like so much. Gau-ta nana. Gatu-nanis? What was it again Ran?" The heiress glanced in the direction of her friend, who stood sheepishly at the side almost hidden behind one of the large trees on the Kudou-property.

She did not want anything to do with Sonoko's unsuccessful bribing of her childhood friend. When he spotted her, she gave him a small, apologetic smile and a wave.

Shinichi appeared very much fatigued, the circles around his eyes more noticeable than ever. He eyed Sonoko for a long minute.

The teen wore a summery blue, expensive, designer dress and a hat to match. Her make-up was impeccable as she smiled at the boy.

She knew Shinichi disliked it when she did so in that fashion.

Finally, Shinichi gave a suffering sigh before mumbling under his breath. "Gateau Nantais, you mean."

Sonoko flashed an expression of smugness as she plucked his arm from where it had been leaning against the doorframe. Shinichi lost his balance only for a moment; however, it was enough to give Sonoko the momentum needed to drag him out of the door and halfway down the porch before he managed to dig his heels in.

"I didn't say I was coming –"

"Nonsense," Sonoko chirped. "Besides, Ran wants you to come."

At the accusation, Ran quickly crossed her arms in a 'cease mission' gesture, as she had been dragged out of her own house in a similar – though less violent – fashion. It was not as though she disliked Sonoko, however she had been against the idea of forcing Shinichi with them from the start.

Shinichi looked both tired and miserable from where he stood by the end of his porch in nothing but striped pyjama pants and a baggy white shirt with the cartoon picture of 'The Great Mouse Detective's Basil of Bakerstreet' that Ran had given him for Christmas. His usually neat hair lay in disarray and his lips were pressed tightly together. His eyes searched for Ran's. What he saw in her expression, she did not know, but his resolution evaporated as he turned to face Sonoko.

"Can I at least get dressed?"

Sonoko beamed at the victory, her smile flashing dangerously. "No. You can change in the car. I picked you up something appropriate."

Ran flushed at the thought and stepped away from her hiding place. Whatever Sonoko had in mind, she did not think anyone – except the heiress – would appreciate it. "Stop it, Sonoko. Let him put on his own pants."

"But –"

"Sonoko."

"Fine."

…

The small room was filled with the thick odour of cigarettes and sweat. From his corner of the room, Nakamori Ginzo switched between yelling into a walkie-talkie and at his subordinates. The rest of the hubbub within the room was a mixture of hushed talking, the humming from computers, and the clicking sounds of several keyboards.

Three teenagers sat in their own dark corner of the room. Several screens from surveillance cameras stood undisturbed on a table. The rest of the available space was covered with small trinkets, varying from three stacks of tarot cards, to a book on palm reading, to a brand new shining divination ball that reflected the artificial light from the computer screen.

Shinichi looked to be suffering from an aneurism as he eyed the objects Sonoko had placed in front of him a few moments earlier.

From behind his shoulder, the heiress fluttered with unbound excitement.

Ran on the other hand, felt her stomach dropping in guilt for not doing her best to dissuade Sonoko earlier.

"So, got anything yet?" Sonoko breathed out, her voice somehow both light and raspy as anticipation squeezed at her throat. Her fingers twitched as though she could simply reach out to grab her quarry if she wished it.

Shinichi turned his upper body around to face her. His lips tightened in displeasure. "I don't do parlour-tricks, Sonoko. I have no intention of entertaining anyone with cheap tricks like a common magician."

She pursed her lips in response, her eyes narrowing in disappointment at his unwillingness to cooperate and slight anger of his jab towards her favourite moonlight magician. "But you'll be helping out everyone, Kudou-kun. You are supposed to catch Kaitou KID anyway; can't you just give me a minute or two's head start so I can see his true identity first?"

Shinichi did not look remotely amused at the tirade, instead crossing his arms. "I'm not a charlatan. I don't use any of these –" he swept a hand in the general direction of the trinkets on the table " – things. Besides," a look of defiance glittered in his eyes as a small grin played on his lips. "I don't make a habit of negotiating with kidnappers."

Sonoko reeled back, her arm flapping as though she could not decide whether to grab or swat at him. She looked unhappy and disappointed as she huffed angrily like a bull before turning around to stomp away.

Ran glanced after her friend, uncertain if she should follow. She knew Sonoko would complain about Shinichi's unchivalrous behaviour. They had had this exact fight on numerous occasions before. Ran did not fancy listening to the same rant again. Instead, she turned to glance down at Shinichi – who had turned to observe the video on the screen. Sighing, she slid into an unoccupied seat.

"You shouldn't antagonize Sonoko so much. She bad be rude, but she means well."

Shinichi responded only with a noncommittal grunt, and silence settled between them.

Ran glanced in the direction of the computer screen. The screen was divided into six small windows showing the live camera feeds from within Beika museum across the street. One was directed towards a large gem – which was the target of the heist – on display. There were no movements within the room as it had been cleared of personnel.

The rest of the cameras revealed the officers guarding each entrance to the room. If KID tried entering, he would be spotted immediately.

Ran checked her clock. It was almost time for the event to start.

She scooted closer to the desk and leaned over Shinichi's shoulder to get a better look at the screens. In the peripheral of her vision she vaguely noticed his eyes flickering in her direction before settling towards the screen once more.

Nothing happened for a long moment, and the only noise was Nakamori's booming voice echoing across the room as he barked orders left and right. Anticipation filled the room, some for the chance of finally capturing the elusive thief, others for the childish joy of participating in another magical heist.

Whichever of the two emotions Shinichi felt, it went unshared as his eyes never wandered from the screen and his face did not reveal any insights into his thoughts.

The screen buzzed for a second, a white and black wave shivered across it before settling. A moment later, and the first camera was filled with white-blinding smoke as a familiar figurine appeared standing on the pedestal in the room. A wicked grin spread across the features as Kaitou KID held his prize pinched between his thumb and index fingers. With his free hand, he grabbed the tip of his hat and tilted it in greeting before disappearing as another smoke bomb was released.

There was a stunned silent across the surveillance room before Nakamori swore like a sailor. The room exploded into movement as the inspector grabbed his coat to hurry out the door, all the while continuing barking.

Someone yelled, "KID spotted in the southwest corridor!" and the figure of the thief running in front of the camera with a wink had the rest of the room in an excited panic as they followed suit as backup.

Ran stood from her chair, her eyes flicking after the officers, uncertain whether she should stay or search for Sonoko. She looked in the direction of Shinichi, fully prepared to see him already gone to track down the phantom thief. This was not the case, and a jolt went through her in surprise.

He leaned against the desk with his left elbow, his head rested in the palm. He looked almost bored as he observed the small screen. From a pocket he slid out a package of cigarettes. Seven stars was labelled across the black and yellow box. With one hand he flipped up the lid and knocked the carton against the wooden desk twice before a long, white stick popped out. He picked it up and bit down on the tip.

Ran's stomach twisted in worry. She did not like his habits one bit and pursed her lips to convey her displeasure. "Shinichi. You shouldn't be doing that, you are not even old enough to legally –"

"Are you going to rat me out?"

She reeled back in surprise at the monotonous response. Not once did he look in her direction, and she glanced around hoping no one was watching them. However, she should not have been concerned as everyone left was glued to the screens as Kaitou KID fought against a singular officer on the north-east corridor.

Shinichi straightened in his chair as he lit the cigarette. The white swirl of smoke escaped the left corner of his mouth as he inhaled.

Ran glared at him for a moment before reaching out to snatch the object away. "Maybe I will –"

She did not get further as Shinichi wrapped his free hand around her wrist. This time, he looked away from the screen to stare at her. Butterflies fluttered in surprise in her chest at the intense expression he gave her. His cerulean eyes almost glittered as they penetrated the small space between them, and for a second she was certain he could read her very thoughts.

She swallowed nervous and tried to yank her arm free. Shinichi did not release her.

"Why the charade, KID?"

Well. Shit.

Kuroba Kaito's face almost fell in an expression of surprise at the revelation. Thankfully he was a magician and a master liar by trade, and managed instead to twist his face into one of confusion. Exactly how long had the detective known it was him?

"What are you talking about, Shinichi? Kaitou KID is right there." He nodded in the direction of the screen where the elusive thief was waving to the camera standing over a knocked-out guard.

Shinichi did not even blink as Kaito spoke. His gaze was steady and unyielding as he scrutinized the thief's face.

Kaitou could tell he had not fooled the detective for one second. Keeping up the charade would be an insult to them both. Sighing, he leaned back on his chair, looking to the rest of the room as though he was relaxed and marginally bored. However, he was more than ready to flee if Shinichi called for assistance.

His freed hand dropped to his side and he palmed a gas bomb between his ring finger and thumb. Kaitou's gaze switched between the screen and the detective with a calculating look, confusion and curiosity bubbling in his chest as to how the detective had figured it out. Surely he had not made an amateur mistake?

"It was the vase."

Kaito's eyes snapped back to Shinichi's face, his eyebrow twitching slightly, doing his best to smother down the bewilderment. The vase? What vase?

Shinichi took another puff of his cigarette before putting it out – Kaito wrinkled his nose in disgust over the cancer stick - before pointing a finger on the window viewing the heist room.

The pedestal stood empty.

The thief's eyes zeroed in on the Ming vase hiding in a corner. It did not dissipate his confusion.

The detective must have read something in his eyes, because he dropped his arm a second later. "One of the officers knocked it over earlier. It's placed an inch to the left now-" he paused, "- in your recording. I'll ask again, why the charade KID?"

Kaito could not stop the grin that twitched the corner of his lips in amusement over the Shinichi's clear disappointment over his blunder and aggravation at being caught by such an unseen mistake. He watched the screen for a second as 'he' fought with Jii-chan and a dummy on one of the screens. It was not a half bad preformance.

Shinichi continued without any input from the thief. They had played this game enough time to know not to interrupt a deduction. "You needed access to the surveillance room in order to hijack the signal. I bet if I look around I'll find the memory stick," His eyes narrowed in thought as his eyes flicked around the room. "The question remains; why are you still here and not stealing the real gem in the confusion?"

Kaito's grin widened in response, his eyes glittering, clearly enjoying the detective's puzzlement even though Shinichi had been correct on all accounts.

The detective's eyes sharpened and his lips thinned as he glanced at something above Kaito's shoulder. "You already have it."

The grin slipped off his face as Kaito glanced above his shoulder. There was no one there. His fingers twitched as the bulge of the diamond in an inner pocket poked him in the ribs. He had stolen it hours ago; however, he had not had the opportunity to carry it out of the museum before now. Besides, a phantom thief had to be there for his audience. He settled back on Shinichi with a dark expression.

"Clairvoyance is cheating, Detective-san."

To the thief's surprise, Shinichi's expression fell and he let go of his grip on the magician's wrist as though he had burned himself. He looked away, his face tight with an unreadable emotion, before grabbing after a new cigarette.

This time, Kaito snatched it away before he could light it. "Those are bad for you," he scoffed with disapproval. This conversation had quickly gone south and for a moment he felt out of his depth. Their interaction had always been as detective and thief - brief and from afar.

He questioned his choice of disguise now that he had accidently seen a more fragile side of the famous psychic detective. He looked tired in the way his shoulder hunched and he seemed hollowed as the excitement and adrenaline drained out of him.

Kaito licked his lips, the urge to retreat intensifying. They were not friends or pals. They were strangers with nothing more in common than casual meetings during the light of the full moon. He tensed his jaw, the fingers around the little gas bomb twitching as he made ready to throw it.

Shinichi spoke before he could.

"Don't you ever get tired of the lies, Kaitou KID?"

Kaito blinked, he had clearly not expected that line of inquiry.

"Will you finally tell her the truth when you find the elusive gem you are searching for?"

He could not stop himself from reeling back. His pulse quickened and he stood from his chair. He felt numb from the disconnected thoughts swirling in his head; 'I hate magic', 'How does he know about Aoko?', 'Does he know anything about Pandora?'

He parted his lips to deny the accusation, however his voice deserted him and all he could manage was a soft whisper as he repeated: "Clairvoyance is cheating."

Shinichi did not look smug over eliciting such a forceful reaction from the otherwise calculating thief. His eyes looked sunken, his skin ashen and clammy and his cerulean eyes drilled into Kaito.

The thief swallowed, all questions, denying – anything, died on his lips as he turned around to stroll out.

The detective did not top him, or call out to the police officers. Instead, a broken, raspy voice reached him just before he stepped out of hearing distance.

"One cannot lie to oneself forever."

The phantom voice of Shinichi haunted him through the remainder of the night.

…

The rain pattered against the window of the car. The landscape disappeared in a blur of shadows as the vehicle raced down the forest path. There was a lurch as it hit a bump but the car did not slow down.

The safety-belt dug into Hakuba Saguru's collarbone and his skin itched as the heater of the car dried his damp clothing. Rustling of fabric and the soft thump of a foot made him glance to the side.

Kudou Shinichi's eyes looked vacant where his eyes were glued to the shadowy landscape of the forest outside. His foot shook marginally, and Saguru deduced it to be of restlessness - or perhaps urgency - rather than of cold. He looked tired – exhausted even, and Saguru could relate.

They had both had little to no sleep for the past forty-two hours. They did not have the time nor luxury for rest. There was a child missing.

On the 28th of March at twenty-six minutes past seven in the morning, nine-year-old Oyama Yuko, left to go to school. She never arrived at her destination and was last seen on the road through the park. It took them thirty-two hours, fifty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds to deduce what really had happened. In the end, it was Kudou Shinichi who had found the culprit. Saguru's theory had been that the suspect possessed a residence somewhere along the road to the school – an older man with a dog, in order to lure in the children and befriend them - the evidence to the theory was dog hair on Oyama's sweater and eyewitnesses of a man in his late thirties approaching several other elementary students.

Suspicious, but he did not prove to be the kidnapper.

Kudou Shinichi on the other hand, had formed a different deduction. Naturally, Saguru was sceptical and did not indulge in the rest of the police force's ridiculous beliefs that the other teen detective was a psychic. The supernatural did not exist.

However, unlike most self-proclaimed clairvoyants Saguru had had the misfortune of collaborating with, Kudou always sought after the absolute proof regardless of what the 'spirits' told him. He never came to a deduction without material proof that would link a suspect to the crime. Regardless of whether or not Kudou Shinichi had any 'special' abilities, he was a brilliant detective. For that, Saguru respected him.

(Kudou Shinichi either had special abilities, or he was the closest Saguru had ever met to a real-life Sherlock Holmes.)

Kudou had been the only one to suspect someone else, and when the clues had seemed to dry up on their end, the detective had strode in with new information: the culprit was the forty-two-year-old, Umezawa Hina, who had lost both her husband and her two kids in a fire ten years prior. She had recently been released from an institution and had most likely confused Oyama Yuko with her eldest daughter.

So that was how they were here; the housing complex the perpetrator lived in proved empty, however the family had a cabin in the forest. If they were lucky, then it would be where Umezawa was keeping Oyama.

If he was religious, Saguru would have prayed they would not arrive too late to save the girl.

There was another lurch in the car as the road switched to a pebbled path. His shoulder connected with the door, sending a tingle of pain from the impact through his shoulder. He stifled the urge to grimace.

A bright light cut through the darkness from within the forest. The lights flickered as trees danced in and out Saguru's line of sight as the vehicle raced down the trail. There was nothing but the shadows of the night except from the beams from the car and the beckoning lighthouse. The rain still pattered against the window, obscuring any chance to peer closer at the house.

The car eventually turned into a driveway, the silent night breached by the red and blue lights from police vehicles, muffled chatting, and the ever-present rain. The radio crackled in the front, however, the heater hummed too loud for auditory comprehension from Saguru's locale.

Takagi turned around in the seat to eye the two teens in the back. There were heavy rings around his eyes, a trait shared by all who collaborated on this case.

"They found Umezawa Hina in the cabin, but Yuko-chan is still unaccounted –"

The slamming of a door broke Takagi out of his speech. The two remaining occupant's eyes snapped in the direction of the noise; Kudou Shinichi had exited the car. The door still flapped ajar where the seat belt had prevented it from closing properly.

To his surprise, Saguru noticed the other detective was heading towards the forest rather than the cabin. Without hesitating, he climbed out to pursue. The mass of people and lights disappeared behind him as he was engulfed by darkness as he reached the treeline. He could vaguely hear the muffled voice of someone calling his name.

Saguru was quickly drenched as the rain pattered down mercilessly, his usual pristine clothing clinging to his chest. His feet slipped underneath him, the sudden motion sending him tumbling into a tree. He could not see anything through the darkness, no natural light from the moon and stars to illuminate his path as the rainclouds cloaked the sky. He doubt he would have been able to see anything regardless, as the forest covered everything in his line of sight.

His stomach dropped and a shiver of cold raked through him due to the drop in his core temperature. The fringes of his hair lay plastered against his scalp. He did not curse often, however now a chosen word was whispered in the back of his mind for his stupidity. He should have grabbed a torch before foolishly stumbling after Kudou into unfamiliar terrain.

He was unsure as to why he had followed the detective. He had thrown out all logic for a second, succumbing foolishly to impetuousness like the detestable Hattori Heiji in his pursuit. Was it possible Kudou had seen a sign he had not? Biting the inside of his cheek, he straightened and continued forwards, now in a slower pace.

His shoes were drenched with mud and water and every step he took came with an affirmative 'squelch' just to underline his misery. Now that his eyes had gotten used to the dim light, he could vaguely see contour of footsteps in the mud and broken branches. At least he was on the right track.

"I'm over here, Hakuba."

The voice spoken was soft, but carried through the darkness. It came from another direction, indicating that Saguru had misinterpreted the last signs. He reeled back, only to stumble when the sole of his foot brushed against a stone. He waved his hands out in order to regain balance and put his other foot a step back for better stability.

It was a grave mistake.

The mud shifted underneath his soles and he skidded, wavering desperately to grab something before gravity took hold and he fell on his back into the wet and murky underbrush. He gasped, both from air and the jolting pain raking down his spine. He swore he could feel something moving underneath his shirt and he stumbled to a seated position. The world rotated around him blindingly for a second from the abrupt movement.

Saguru was wet, cold, dirty and utterly miserable. However, now was not the time for self-pity. There was a child missing, possibly hiding out in the same wood he was currently sitting in. He rose slowly, his bones popping to release the throbbing pain. He could not stifle the groan that escaped his lips.

"Kudou-san?"

The response came quickly. "Here."

He started towards the sound, water dripping between his eyebrows and his head felt a few grams heavier than earlier. He most likely had leaves or a small stick in his hair, however he felt too lethargic to check.

"Did you –" he licked his lips to gather up the moist settling on his lips, " – find Oyama Yuko?"

There came no answer this time, and Saguru was left fumbling in the dark underbrush as he made a steady way in the direction of his fellow detective. He eventually stumbled into a clearing.

Kudou was standing with his back towards Saguru, and he made for a striking image as a lightening cracked overhead in the clouds. He was holding a torch in one hand, however the beam was directed downwards and disappeared into the underbrush. It was then that he noticed they were standing on a cliff. He glanced around. If he had continued the way he had trekked, he would have eventually stepped off and fallen over the edge.

Saguru swallowed and another shiver raked through him – and this time not from the cold. In fact, just another ten meters and he would have found his timely demise.

Kudou turned to face him. His face looked pale and drawn even in the dim light. There was nothing but shadow where his eyes were; however Saguru could still feel the chilling gaze. His insides turned to ice as an understanding jolting through him.

His eyes slipped to the border of the precipice of their own accord. He was glad when he could see nothing but shadows from his locale. He had a distinct feeling that whatever was down there would haunt his dreams.

He tried not to retreat, but could not stop the flinch in his shoulders. Seeing a dead child was never an easy thing. In fact, he had only been allowed to a crime scene once involving children as requested by Saguru's own father – in order to, presumably, protect him from the gruesome sight.

Kudou's gaze was unsettling in the silence. The only sound was the pitter-patter of the rain and their shared breaths. In the distance he could hear voices calling for Oyama Yuko; in another thirty minutes, dogs would be brought in to help in the search.

Saguru lowered his eyes and turned his upper body to glance in the direction of the forest. "I'll notify the police that we – you discovered the –" he stumbled over the words, his eloquent speech lost somewhere in a puddle far behind him. He was cold to his bones, and the disappointment and failure tasted bitter on his tongue. If only they had arrived sooner, deduced quicker, then Oyama would still be alive. "– the whereabouts of the missing victim."

Without turning back for an affirmation he let himself get swallowed up whole by the shadows of the forest. He could not imagine what went through the other detective's mind – or what he had seen.

The question remained: had Kudou known all along since he exited the vehicle that the girl was already dead? The very thought twisted painfully in Saguru's stomach. He might not believe in the supernatural and clairvoyance, but seeing the very person they were trying to save beckoning and calling from the border of the forest and leading them to the body?

The very idea was terrifying, and Saguru would not want to be in Kudou Shinichi's shoes. The haunted expression on the teen's face followed him as he made his trek back to the house.

…

She did not bother knocking as she entered the house; she knew he would not answer it as he had declined to do so previously. Thankfully, Mouri Ran owned a spare key, and even though she had promised in the past that she would never invade unless it was of outmost importance, she did so this time.

In her mind, this was of significance.

The first thing that hit her as she stepped across the doorway, was the pungent smell of dust and cigarettes. Shaking her head, she changed her footwear to the traditional zori – the slippers lined up at the entrance of the ryokan.

She followed down the corridor on her left, pictures of the Kudous lined the beige walls, including a few peculiar ones with a cat riding a camel and a nine year old Shinichi looking rather pissed off at someone hiding behind the camera lenses – she assumed it rightly to be towards Yukiko and her eccentrics. If she remembered correctly, one of the pictures had earned the woman a Terry O'Neill Photography Award.

Ran stepped into the library slash Livingroom her childhood friend preferred. Large windows covered a view to the garden. An armchair stood in front of the window with a single lamp and a small stand next to it. Two large double-couches were situated in the middle standing adjacent to each other before a large table made of red mahogany. The surface of the table and most of the coaches were covered with books, paper and documents. A lone cup of – long since – cold coffee lay forgotten in the organized-mess. The remaining walls were filled with bookshelves.

The room was empty, but showed signs of recent use. A twirl of smoke escaped the cigarette on the small stand by the armchair. A half eaten sandwich – the same she had made the day before – sat next to it.

"Are you still smoking those?" She said with distaste, her nose cringing from the smell. She disapproved of his habits and had every intention of voicing it in his presence every time she had the opportunity. At least he was not drinking – for now.

"Usually I don't mind you complaining as you have every right to do so," came the voice from behind her and she twirled around, her hair brushing against her chin as she did to face him. "But please lay off my back just this once, Ran."

Shinichi looked terrible – more than usual, and Ran heart quivered in worry. His usual snug pyjamas hung on his hips, and three days' worth of stubble and his bird's nest hair made him almost unrecognizable. She doubted she would have been able to recognize him had she stumbled over him on the street.

She held her ground, arms crossing and her lips pursed. "You have been holed up here for over a week Shinichi. It's time to leave the house. So get dressed; you are taking me to the movies."

He looked away, his jaw moving as he tensed. "No thank you."

Ran narrowed her eyes and stepped forward to yank his arm. "It wasn't a request. You cannot mope around forever," she tried catching his eyes but he evaded her. "It wasn't your fault the little girl died, you do know that don't you?"

Unsurprisingly, he went rigid, his eyes unmoving from the spot on the floor. Emotions flickered too fast across his features to read.

She grabbed his arm in order to shake him this time. "You cannot save everyone, you doofus. Not your fault," she repeated again, hoping against everything that he would listen to her.

Shinichi reeled back, arms waving to fend her off as his eyes went large. His breath hitched in his throat as he rushed out. "But it was my fault, Ran. I –"

"No it wasn't," she growled out, following his retreating form. He eventually stopped as his back hit the wall behind him and he looked impossibly small as he cowered.

"You don't understand. I'm a – I am – just a – "

"What?" she groused out, her patience finally stretched thin after a week of tip-toing. Shinichi rarely lost a victim in a case, but this time it had it him harder than before. "A failure? Because you are not. Ask anyone at the precinct, you are an immense help and the success rate has tripled since you started to help out. You have saved people, Shinichi. Hundreds of lives because of your amazing gifts," she reached out for him again, her voice now subdued and soft as her anger drained out. "Don't think otherwise for a second –"

He ducked away from her, his face tight as stumbled towards the window. She turned to follow his trek through the room with sad eyes. How could he not understand how truly amazing he was? She had never met anyone who could do what her childhood friend could do. He was always so attentive, knew information about people that they had never revealed.

No matter where Ran went or what troubles were on her mind, Shinichi always found her and helped her out. That was who he was, he gave and gave to the world and expected nothing back. He bore the world on his shoulders as his expectations of himself was greater than anything his parents, the police, or anyone could bestow him.

Ran had always known he was special, a fact that was proven right when he came out as a clairvoyant when he was fifteen while they were on a plane to visit his parents in New York. The police had not been willing to listen to him at the beginning, but Shinichi proved to be able to close the case swiftly with the help of his spirit friends.

Of course, she was hurt he had never told her before, but she understood. He always kept his cards close to his chest, and being different was never easy.

She did not know how to comfort her friend as he stood staring out the window, the natural light dancing across his body and shadowing half the room. She clutched her hands to her chest and felt her heart quiver in worry and sadness. She was worried about him; this last year his duties had started to weigh on his mind. He forewent sleeping and hardly ate. Slowly, he started to look more exhausted as the days passed, as though something lay heavily on his shoulders. That was when the smoking had begun.

She wished he would talk to her, get his trouble off his chest. She tried – oh how desperately she had tried to make him listen – but he refused, closed his ears off as though her kind, comforting words burned him to the core.

Ran could not stand watching this, this slow decaying, shadow of her childhood friend and she stepped forward where she had in the past retreated to leave him to his own thoughts.

"Why won't you talk to me anymore? Did I do something wrong?"

That produced a reaction and he twisted his upper body to face her with a pained expression. "No Ran –" he breathed out, almost as though her name was sacred on his lips. "You could never do anything wrong."

"Then why do you shut me out?" Tears prickled in her eyes as her hands itched to reach for him again. She felt as though no matter how much she pursued him, she could never get close enough to grasp him and hold him still. He was forever moving forward, never sitting still, for if he stood still for a moment everything – every trouble she knew nothing off, would overcome him.

"Please."

Uncertainty and fear flickered across his face, his face drawn as his lips quivered with indecision and she swore for a second he, too, itched with the need to touch her.

"Ran."

She stood still, not moving or saying anything as she took shallow breaths in hope he would finally open up. There was silence for a long few moments, and her heart stopped racing as the disappointment washed over her – he did not trust her enough to talk to her – when his head flopped forwards in defeat and he mumbled softly underneath his breath.

"I'm a fraud."

She shook her head and took a step forward. "No you are not, you are an amazing det–"

"I'm not psychic," his voice rose as he finally got the words out. His gaze burned and his pupils flickered across the room like an animal in a cage. "I lied. The police wouldn't let a fifteen-year-old kid help out. So I lied. It wasn't supposed to escalate like this." His eyes settled back on her form. He oozed of fear and guilt, expressions she had never seen on his face as long as she had known him.

She took a step back, her heart thrumming in her throat. Her thoughts tumbling through her head in confusion. 'I'm not psychic'. A gasp escaped her lips involuntarily when her thought finally caught up and she realized her friend, her best friend had lied to everyone for three whole years. The tear prickled in her eyes started to slide down her cheeks.

"Ran."

This time it was her turn to flinch back as he reached towards her, his voice hoarse and desperate, and she could not meet his eyes. How had he managed to completely fool everyone for three whole years? It was unthinkable for her and the confusion bubbled nauseatingly in her throat. He had lied – to her – for so long, no wonder his heart was laden with guilt.

"Please, I never intended –"

"How?" She cut in, her tone sounding cold and tired even to her own ears.

Shinichi scrambled for words for a moment, before he understood what she meant. He patted his sweaty palms against his pyjama bottoms before answering with a subdued voice. "I don't really know. I just see and observe more than most. It's not a supernatural ability, I'm just –" he waved a hand in the air, his lips forming a word before blurting out for the lack of a better adjective, "attentive. I remember everything I see, everything I hear, touch, smell. The conclusions that I'm able to draw. The things that are revealed to me. The ugliness. My work focuses me. It helps."

They stood staring at each other for a long moment after that. Ran had a hard time processing his words, of course she knew he had been special. Him having abilities had not shocked her, but now learning that he did not? She felt betrayed that he would not tell her the truth.

"I could have saved the girl, Ran," he mumbled after the dim light of his eyes faded and his head dropped forward again to conceal the expression. "By using the police resources I could have gotten to the truth and her sooner. It's my fault – my hubris cost Yuko her life –"

Ran did not let him finish as she slapped him. The detective reeled back on the heels of his feet, but did not react further. She did not know what she was feeling – anger and bitter betrayal but also sad, sadness towards him. "Tell me, how many lives have you saved because of your lie?" she whispered. She was not ready to forgive him – not yet; however, he looked so crushed and so miserable her traitorous heart ached for him.

He did not respond – had no need to respond. They both knew the truth, that he had saved hundreds by being just a little faster to assemble the clues. However, it did not excuse his deceit. The truth had to come out; sooner or later or it would weigh down his soul.

"I just don't know if the lies are worth it anymore."

And Ran swore, that just for a second as she left the house, Shinichi looked more at peace then he had just half an hour previous. That was precisely the reason she had retreated, her thoughts continued to tumble in her mind regarding whatever decision she should take regarding Shinichi. Tell the truth? He could risk being incarcerated for deceiving the police. Keep it a secret, and she would be his accomplice.

Even though everything else seemed obscured and confusing and the future predicted nothing but heartache, she knew one thing for certain.

Shinichi would spend a long time to regain her trust and forgiveness.

…

A/N; The basis behind the idea is pretty much that Shinichi lied in order to get access to the case on the plane to America back in episode 162 and pretty much everything escalated quickly from there. He has in general been described as a bad liar, and I feel as though the weight of this lie that benefits no one but his own twisted desires would sooner or later come to a point where his guilty conscious and lies would come back to haunt him. Blame the TV-shows Psych and The Mentalist for the idea.