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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"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."

"Ah--you get bigger?" That's definitely got Conan's attention. "You found a way to fix this?"

"Ah-" His face falls, and he'd forgotten. Slip of the tongue. And now he's paying for it. "Sort of," he said, voice lower and a bit hoarse. "This... was it. Still is. This," he said, demonstrating an above current head height down to current, "is supposed to be temporary." He took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Haibara's probably still researching with my blood taken from right after I was turned and just about enough to transfuse an entire person since then - not to mention the most recent tests - and that might help. But I somehow doubt that either you or your Ran would actually want you to get bigger this way. Trust me."

He threw back a large gulp of the red stuff in his glass against the angst that was sure to ensue. And questions. Even if the guy didn't have the emotional maturity of a seven year old, he knew well enough that there'd be questions.

Conan tries to contain his disappointment. "Oh." It's a struggle. "So it's only because of being a vampire you can turn back? Did you ... turn ... on purppose or was it an accident? What does Ran think about it?"

"Yeah... in fact, this isn't actually my natural state any more. 'Shinichi' is. 'Conan' is just for a case - and if I have anything to do with it, won't ever again except in phone conversations and maybe in ten years' time." He closes his eyes and breathes in sharply. There's a minute before he speaks again. "Ran's - Ran's fine with it now. She was hysterical when she first found out. But that might've had something to do with the how. And before you ask, that was an accident. If nothing else was."

Conan blinks. He's got the feeling that there's something he's missing about the conversation -- he hasn't been Conan as long as the other. Maybe that's it? "Ran finding out was an accident? Or turning?"

He is missing something. Actually, he's missing a lot. "Ran finding out," he said with a wince, understanding completely the truth that he was implying.

"Oh." Conan's serious. Ran's reaction to his secret wasn't good -- and she knew why he'd kept it because she'd done the same. Any other Ran--

And a vampire on top of that.

"But you're all right now?" he insists.

"I'm all right now."

He's not mentioning the newly ingrained instincts, the nightmares, the real life scares... no, he's not.

"What about sunlight?" It's like having a conversation with a yo-yo.

"Depends. If I keep my concentration on not burning to a complete and utter melted pile of singed goo, I'm fine. Otherwise - well. I got burnt once. Trying to go out of the house."

"Does an umbrella help? Sunscreen?"

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