justonetruth | Mission Improbable.

Mission Improbable.

This particular Shinichi prides himself on stealth. Discreet appearances and exits, undetectable surveillance, shadowing -- there is little about stalking he doesn't know (note: this isn't necessarily a good thing). There's just one thing.

He's not Shinichi any more.

The lack of height is in many ways a plus. Who is going to suspect a seven-year-old of following them? That's if he can avoid truant officers of course. The rest of it, however--

It needs work. And that is precisely what Conan is doing.

It's night. You might be in the library when you hear a strange noise. Have the feeling you're being watched in the kitchen. See something shift just on the edge of your vision as you make your way down the corridors to bed.

Whatever you're doing, you're not alone.

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"Mm-hm. Got it right. Anything else you can remember from earlier?"

It's hardly as though he's going to give everything up that easily. They're still walking, too.

Conan thinks hard. The way his counterpart is talking, he should have all the clues he needs to figure this out. "You move kind of differently," he said slowly. "And you've obviously got really good senses." Better even than Ran's?

And then there was the pallour--

Conan frowned. "In my world, there are some questions you don't ask," he said quietly.

Shinichi-Conan grins right on back. "Bingo~" No teeth are shown of unordinary length.

"Huh, really? Like what? What world?" He's already got some sort of idea, but as a detective he'd really prefer proof.

"Like 'are you human'?" Conan says seriously. "My world that can get people in a lot of trouble."

The grin has turned sharp, but it's no less friendly.

"Ooh, good one. And I can see how it would." He stops in his tracks, facing his counterpart. "But - d'you want an answer?"

Conan also comes to a halt, studying his counterpart with an expression that is more Kudou Shinichi than Edogawa Conan, serious and set as if he is very aware of the implications of what he is asking.

"Yes," he says at last. "I do."

Shinichi sees the expression that's more him than Conan in the other's eyes, and is pleased. He's only contemplating this now - earlier it would've been fun just to head randomly into the kitchen and take out an undisguised blood pack - because his counterpart is not afraid, and while he seems bothered, doesn't look like he'd think much differently. In fact, he seems to be taking this seriuosly... unlike the time when he'd jumped down from the balcony.

"I'm a vampire," he said bluntly, backed up one single pace, and crossed his arms to watch the fallout.

Conan blinked. For a moment he's tempted to ask if the other is joking -- he may be seven but that doesn't mean he's a kid -- but even while part of his brain protests that this isn't logical, the other half is tallying up the proof. It all fits ...

"Really? I mean -- well, vampire is just as logical as radioactive spider bites I suppose and -- does that mean you're ..." Conan swallows. "Are you dead?"

"Yes, really." He's not mentioning radioactive spider bites. That's just all the proof he needs to validate which world he comes from. Must be that Ran's Conan, then, and he feels a pang of pity. "No," he says dryly. "Although my life signs can be so small I could be mistaken for dead if I'm found sleeping." He's started to walk again, same direction. Might as well. "Subspecies of youkai."

"Oh." Conan follows after his counterpart, thinking hard. "Tell me about youkai? Kuroba's not dead either, but we don't know what he is ... and he doesn't like talking about it himself ..."

"Youkai are basically your average fairytale monsters. Sometimes more so, sometimes less. Or so I figure. So far, I've only encountered vampires, though. But it's been implied that there're tons of others, like Kitsune and Oni and Koumori and Oogami and the like."

The next bit mad him stumble. "Ku- Kaito? You mean there's something wrong with your Kaito? I can understand he wouldn't like talking about it, but-"

"Huh." Conan's quiet a moment, trying to think of anything in his collection of Japanese mythology that might explain his friend. "What about ghosts?"

He nods solemnly. "There's something wrong with Kuroba. Don't think he'd like it if I said what it was, but you've probably got a good idea already."

"Ghosts... can't say I've ever encountered any. Maybe before all of this started to happen to me I wouldn't have given it another thought, but now... possible. Unlikely, but possible."

The talk of youkai and ghosts and things not human... "He's a..." he hesitates, not knowing if Conan 'knows' or not. "Phantom?" There's also a wince at the idea that the sort of thing could happen to any Kaito.

Conan nods slowly. Ghost wouldn't fit anyway, but its the closest. So that means they have to keep looking ...

"Can't say," Conan says apologetically. "Ironic isn't it?"

He sighs. "I understand. And - definitely ironic. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help there."

"You don't know. You might have put us onto a new lead," Conan assured his counterpart. "I'm going to check the library again." He paused. "Does that mean you have to drink blood?" he asked dubiously.

"It'd be good if I had. Kaito's probably desperate for anything that might help, knowing him."

A shrug as he opens the suddenly available door, which leads into the kitchen. Heads over to the fridge before answering, and by then his voice is slightly muffled by the open door and the hum of the machine. "Yes... but not human unless I absolutely have to... got it!" He closes the fridge door, holding up his prize - stupid Mansion'd hidden it right at the back when he'd needed it at the front for once. "See? Cow flavour. Yum." Now that sarcasm is near tangible.

Conan didn't reply. Desperate was one word ...

Conan made a face at his counterpart's comment. That sarcasm is obvious enough that he doesn't miss it, helping himself to a glass of juice instead. "What about ordinary foods? Can you eat them at all?"

"More or less," he said, finding a glass for himself. It was a good thing the Mansion did all of the washing up.

Oh, and knowing that Conan's 'actually' seven? He is SO not saying the effect garlic has on him. At all. Ever.

"It's more for fun then for need?" Conan persisted.

His player is curious now.

"Hardly. And if it was, life'd be ten times harder. No - I still need to eat. And drink."

"That's good at least. I'd hate it, not being able to eat things," Conan said thoughtfully. "What's different then? I mean, senses, obviously. And you move differently. What about the rest of it? Stronger?"

"You'd hate it? Me - I live for coffee. If I couldn't even drink coffee or eat lemon pie or -" he cut himself off from saying 'Ran's cooking' that would open up a whole new can of beans he didn't need, with this Conan "-other stuff, for one thing it'd be cliched, and for another I'd probably spend the rest of my vampiric life salivating at random dinner tables."

"Stronger? How about definitely. But I already told you that earlier, didn't I?"

Conan noted the pause, but could not imagine why it might be there. "That would suck," he agreed, then frowned. "Did you?" Conan's attention had clearly wandered. "What else did you tell me?"

"Definitely," he agrees, then rolled his eyes. "The shoes. Don't need them any more - and I'm even stronger when I'm bigger."

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