Note: Here's my humble Valentine's Day contribution. It feels great to update this hibernating series. My apologies if this was a little thrown together! See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

File Twelve: Of Chocolate and First Love

On such a special day as St. Valentine's, many a young couple made romantic plans. But for almost a year now, Teitan High junior Yoshida Ayumi had bound herself to babysit the Kudous' young son, Conan, on these days; despite her gentle, feminine demeanor and adorable features, the class secretary and former member of the Detective Boys refused any dates with the male acquaintances to whom she had given chocolate—not the homemade kind. Changing after school into a fluffy, red, turtleneck sweater, pink pleated skirt, and jaunty pink headband, Ayumi made her way to the Kudou home with a bright smile, swinging a small bag of chocolates by her side and allowing its scent to waft in the air like incense.

After all, she knew her dear friends had plans of their own. It was almost as good as playing cupid.

When Ran greeted her with apologies at the door, Ayumi merely shook her head and opened her bag of sweets like a sack of presents from Santa, beckoning both wife and husband to take as much as they wanted. Eagerly finding the keys from Shin'ichi, taking last minute instructions about dinner and bedtime from Ran, and helping Ran with her long, white overcoat, Ayumi waved the couple goodbye and watched them disappear beyond the front gate. Touched then with a wistful feeling, she sighed at the beauty of romance and turned her attentions toward the nearby den.

Poking her head into the doorway, Ayumi found her charge lying on his stomach and crossing his little legs; it soon became clear that the math homework, which Ran said he must finish before dinner, was what kept him from running to greet her with his usual glee. Ayumi bit her lip and grinned. It would be hard not to give the boy too much chocolate . . . before or after supper.

"Hi, Miss Ayumi," Conan said, glancing up once before returning his workbook. Frowning in childlike determination, he twisted his lips and rolled the #2 pencil between them.

Ayumi cocked her head to the side, unsure of what to do. If his mother insisted that he study, it was not her place to take him away from it, but at present he seemed a little too serious. At least, too serious for Valentine's Day. Nodding, Ayumi knit her brow with her own brand of determination as she sidestepped the sofa and tiptoed closer to the boy. Yes! Young or old, every boy should be able to enjoy some good chocolate!

Drawing her slippered feet behind her to kneel before Conan, Ayumi offered him her perkiest smile. It was a smile that, for some reason, Genta and Mitsuhiko never liked her to use in public; Shiho once mentioned something about "wiles" and "double standards" that she never quite understood, but took to mean that she could only consider such a charming grin acceptable for her two childhood friends. Conan, however, was a special case. "Happy Valentine's Day, Conan!" she chirped, sliding the unwrapped bag beneath his nose. "Would you like some yummy chocolate?"

Conan's eyes suddenly widened then, causing Ayumi to jump. Something in the way he gaped and let the pencil slip from his mouth to the rug below, as if a flash of light had zipped through his mind, struck her as being oddly familiar.

"Miss Ayumi?" Conan asked, propping his elbows on his book and turning his wide blue eyes on her. "You've known Mommy and Daddy for a long time, right?"

"Yes!" Ayumi replied, giggling her thankfulness for the conversation. "They kind of used to babysit me . . . well," she paused, touching a finger to her chin. Reaching behind her head with a laugh tinged with nervousness, she said, "Most of the time, your mommy did!"

Conan stared at her. To Ayumi, who had the pleasure of looking on that round face from a higher angle, he seemed the perfect picture of cherubic innocence.

"Miss Ayumi, who was your first love?"

Or not.

"What?" Ayumi gasped. Clutching her cheeks, which had begun to feel very warm, she stammered, "Um, w-why do you want to know?"

"Earlier, I overheard Mommy talking about you and a boy," the mirror image of Conan replied, shrugging his shoulders. "His name was Conan."

At that moment, Ayumi's stomach gained its first ulcer. "W-w-wha . . . ."

With a sterner look, he added, "I want to know who this guy is, but Daddy only told me that Conan was his name when some guys in black shrunk him. Isn't that crazy?"

Ayumi felt color drain from her entire body and gather in a pool on the polished wood floor. "He . . . told you that?"

"Yeah!" Conan said, shifting to sit cross-legged and setting his long forgotten workbook aside. Eyeing the open pages, Ayumi noticed that he had only answered one question—meaning that he had been contemplating this embarrassing topic for some time. "So? Was your first love Conan?"

"Y-you shouldn't ask things like that!" Ayumi spluttered, crossing her arms as she flushed. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck sprang up despite her attempts to calm herself with breathing. "Your f-father is ten years older than me, so it's not—"

"Huh?" Conan asked, staring blankly at her. "But Daddy only made up that story, right?"

He doesn't believe Shin'ichi? Ayumi stared into space and covered her mouth in horror, realizing, Of course Conan wouldn't believe it! I could hardly believe it and I was there. What if Shin'ichi used some kind of reverse psychology and I'm ruining it? But—what am I supposed to say? I can't make up a story without contradicting what his dad told him, but, she finally thought, trembling, how could I tell Conan about . . . that?

Ayumi clenched her fists as beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. T-they . . . never gave me instructions about this!

While Ayumi quietly gave in to a nervous fit, Conan bent over her open bag of chocolates as if noticing it for the first time. Dipping a hand inside, he produced a chocolate and smiled, licking his lips with pure delight.

A moment later, Conan's actions caught Ayumi's perceptive eye. Maybe there was a solution to her dilemma, after all. "Hey, Conan? You like chocolate, right?"

"Mmm hmm!" Conan said, nodding vigorously. He opened his mouth, ready to gobble the treat, but his babysitter soon interrupted with another question.

"If I give you the rest of my chocolates, would you keep a secret?" Ayumi asked, flashing him her perkiest smile in full strength. Bribery was to be frowned upon as a foul abuse of the law, but she was desperate. If Ran asked, she could say with all honesty that Conan had just been very good and deserved a reward.

As predicted, the boy, whose light eyes sparkled all the more for being unhampered by his predecessor's glasses, squeaked his agreement.

This was the only part Ayumi dreaded. Tugging at the thick lint balls on her sweater, this time she felt her stomach develop acid reflux. But if Shin'ichi's tactic worked, then maybe hers would, too. "Yes," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "My first love—a long time ago—was a boy n-named . . . Edogawa Conan."

"Edogawa?" Conan asked, having chewed and swallowed his first chocolate and reaching for a second. "Like Edogawa Rampo?"

"Er, yes," Ayumi replied, blinking with surprise at never realizing that before. Giggling, she let her mind drift back to warm, sunny camping trips and beach outings, as well as a score of murderous crime scenes that always felt much safer with Edogawa Conan's presence. "He was smart and was great with deduction, so we had many adventures together. But he was a transfer student and, after a long time, he had to go away."

Conan's shoulders sank, then, and he pouted. Without a word, he took a chocolate and dropped it into Ayumi's outstretched hand. "Here, you can have that one," the boy said with a grin. "Thanks a lot, Miss Ayumi! If that's who Conan is, I don't mind being named after him."

Conan . . . . She pat Conan's thick head of hair, looking down on him with a fond smile.

"Besides," Conan added with glee, "that does sound like Daddy!"

"Oh, really?" Ayumi said, her eyes shrinking into black beads as a drop of sweat finally slid down her cheek. She doubted that she would have much or anything to fear from her two wonderful friends, except maybe a scolding for filling their son with sugar and—though she hoped not—spoiling his appetite. Perhaps the joys of Valentine's Day would be enough to distract them, or perhaps it did not matter. It was the first time, since learning the truth about Kudou Shin'ichi, that Ayumi freely confessed the special way he once made her feel.

"Yes, just like your daddy," Ayumi giggled, turning the pat into a noogie as she ate her chocolate. Maybe next year, she would be ready to give someone homemade chocolate. Maybe she would have romantic plans. But even memories, she realized, could be as sweet as any Valentine's chocolate . . . and that was more than enough.