-o-

"I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs."
'Joseph Addison, English essayist, poet, and politician (1672 - 1719)'

It was a strange quote to find, hanging in a place of honour on the wall.
It was the first thing one would see when entering the man's house from his back garden, a garden full of cherry trees that must be beyond splendid in full bloom. It was delicately painted in black ink on paper of quality, suitably framed in gold and black. His wife had mentioned her husband's love for the poet's works. Copied it out himself, she said.

Naturally, she was upset by the news of his death. Jokingly she mentioned her belief that if one of the two were to be mourning the other, it should have been him. After all, her husband had owned a fair amount of black clothing. She sobbed, as her attempt at humour failed her.

The FBI agents could only share meaningful glances as inspector Megure did his best to comfort the grieving woman. This man was one who had never been ashamed of his position at the head of the Black Organisation. For those in the know, his house was full of purposeful reminders. Even after death his shadow loomed.

-o-

-Chapter 8:Seven children. -

-viii-

The song was playing on the small portable radio.

At first it had seemed innocent enough, really. She had found it on the desk, beside the computer that seemed to have been shunted to the recesses of the basement. She had had a feeling that she would like this room. The feeling had proven to be right, at least for a time. She had puttered around the room, looking at this and that, smiling at the odd test tube, staring at the random broken -or rather, unfinished?- gadgets littering the shelves. After a while, she had decided to settle down on the couch there with a book she had found, and turned the radio on. It was more to have some form of noise to chase away annoying afterthoughts than to listen to anything in particular. Her leg had started to ache, so it was a chance to rest it and read some poetry at the same time.

The poetry was interesting to say the least. Somehow, it seemed to match the slightly sad tones of the music channel she had set the radio station to. She also felt she could relate to it. She had no trouble picturing the scenes and emotions hinted at, interpreting the different possibilities for each turn of phrase. Oh sure, she knew she was reading totally different things from what the poet may have intended. She enjoyed it nonetheless, in a mellow sort of way. It seemed to her that this was something she could recall doing, a feeling that strengthened when she found a bookmark as she turned the page.

Somehow, the idea of this room having been some sort of secret hideaway appealed to her. Maybe the black box she had found this book in had been one she had chosen herself to stash some treasures in? Perhaps she should go and give it a closer look. It looked a bit like the green box the professor had handed her the previous day. But not just yet. Read another few pages first, then investigate it. Looking at it from that angle, her amnesia became just a game, a puzzle for her to unscramble step by step.

And that's when she heard them. The first few notes of a lullaby that did anything but put her mind to rest. She bolted upright, the words of the song spilling forth in a treacherous whisper.

Karasu naze nakuno?(Crow, why do you cry?)

And why did she have normally non associated symbols and numbers springing to her mind at the mere opening lyrics of the song? What did "#969#626" have to do with a crow? And why was all of a sudden her mind awash with pain, her chest constricted from a sudden anxiety? Having fallen from the sofa due to the shock, she glared, one-eyed, at the transmitter that had deceived her so.

Karasu wa yama ni- Kawai nanatsu no- Ko ga aru kara yo; (Because I have seven cute children, high in the mountain;)

She remembered feelings, emotions that seemed to belong to someone else. A corruptness that tasted bad in her mouth, a fear that froze her to the spot, that sent shivers along her spine, a guilt that made her clench her fist tighter against her heart, as a determination as ardent as a furnace kept her eye on the instrument of her pain. This song...

Kawai kawai to- Karasu wa nakuno- Kawai kawa-... ("Cute! Cute!" this mother crow cries. "Cute! Cut-...")

It ended just as the Professor appeared by her side. If the concerned tone of his voice was any indication, she must have inadvertently cried out, causing the man to run to her side. She felt his hands protectively hold onto her shoulders, as he asked what was wrong. She pointed at the radio.
"Switch it off. Please..."

He didn't question her, and he reached out to kill the music that had followed the lullaby. She sighed, and tried to get a grip on herself again; but the silver-backed creature from her nightmare last night had returned to haunt her mind. She tried to break free from the professor's hands, but in the end, found herself leaning against him, holding onto his arm. She felt weak, she looked as white as a sheet. After only a moment's hesitation, Hiroshi Agasa had scooped Ai Haibara into his arms, carried her out of the basement and into the main landing, where he headed for the phone.

As the professor dialed a number that he seemed to know by heart, Ai's mind was awash with crows in black clothes, children who weren't, a woman with many masks, and a silver-haired beast.

She remembered the beast's name now. It was Gin, like the alcohol.

-viii-

Gin stumbled across the street, trying to avoid being noticed. It wasn't working.

Usually, he only needed to glare at someone to get them to want to do anything but notice him, let alone get in his way. Somehow, in his weak state, he had lost the ability to do that at a glance. Oh, sure, he still glared, but somehow the reaction he got was no longer one of fear.

The children would look at him curiously, eyes big as they ogled his disheveled platinum hair. As soon as they thought that he wouldn't notice them doing so, they'd turn to comment to each other, pulling faces and laughing, fingering their clothes as if it were a comment on what he was wearing. He hadn't needed the reminder. The tight fitting sports pants were reminder enough, and he was slightly upset at how damaged his favourite coat was. He should have left it, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a part of him, part of the cloak that had made him no longer Kurosawa Jin but Gin, the assassin, the dealer, the right-hand man of the boss of the crows. Besides, he would most likely need his wallet from its pockets. And his car keys. Gingerly he tried to fish them out as he approached his Porsche, ignoring the pitying looks some early morning shoppers were giving him.

He stopped just a meter away from the door. His eyes seemed to lose their focus as he took in the damage. The paint was scraped all along the right side, and one of the front lights had been smashed. The left rear view mirror looked about ready to snap, and the roof was covered in small scratches. It was a wonder it hadn't been already dragged away, and a fine stuck under one of the sweepers told him that it hads only narrowly missed being clamped down to the spot. He growled at the fine. Normally traffic officers were too impressed by the car to dare fine it for parking too long in one spot. The coloured sheet of paper soon found its way into the nearest bin. Gin successfully managed to glare down a man who had had the cheek to not-so-subtly sneer at watching him do so. He climbed into the car and sat behind the wheel.

After only a second of pause, he started the motor. He didn't feel like driving, and his right arm was already complaining; but this was too public a place, he needed somewhere remote, where he could collect his thoughts in peace. Cursing the twerp for abusing his car so, he couldn't help but think that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to threaten a kid into driving in his stead.

But that had been the only option, hadn't it? The telling absence of Vodka in the passenger seat was too strong a reminder of what had happened.

Vodka was dead. The boss was gone. That woman was burning in hell alongside them; he had made sure of that.
His hand shook a little on the wheel, as he started to whistle a tune he had memorized only to keep in touch with their superior.

What was there left for him? What state was the organisation in now, after the death of its most important members? Should he attempt to do anything about it?

He paused, as he prepared to drive across into a quiet parking area he remembered from a previous mission. He remembered the colour of auburn hair, dancing before his eyes.
Humph, why should anything have changed for him? The only thing he needed to add to his list was another reason to find Sherry...

And now he had one very vital clue with which to do so.

-viii-

As she stepped into the Kudo house, ecstatic at the news that Eisuke had been found, Ran couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine. Despite Shinichi's face appearing neutral, she could sense great tension in the air, mostly between her childhood friend and the bespectacled teenager. Did this have anything to do with new information on Shinichi's case? The one Shinichi had claimed would prevent him from accompanying her to school that day? But no, how could Eisuke be involved with that? They didn't even know each other! But thinking of Eisuke... He was here. He was here!

"Oh Eisuke! Where have you been? I was so worried after that mes-..."
She had moved forward, her arms moving to embrace her friend, her reassurance and surprise discarding her usual composure. Eisuke stepped back.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, Ran. It's okay now. Really. Forget about that message. Ha ha."
Her classmate waved his hands around in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture, as he smiled nervously. A glance at Shinichi's face was enough to render the words empty. The danger was obviously still real. Somewhere, out there, was someone who continued to threaten her friends, and their safe return to her side, who threatened the length of Shinichi's continued stay in Beika.

Ran bit her lip and clenched her fists, obviously upset and angry at the thought, but also feeling rejected because, once more, she was being left out. Shinichi wanted to keep her out of the loop. Just as he had done when he had vanished. Just as he had throughout his whole damn case. Just as he was still doing, even now, when the supposed conclusion of said case was nigh or past.
And now he had apparently gotten even Eisuke in on it. How? Why? What about her, his childhood friend? Unfair!

She recalled the email she had received from Eisuke on her mobile phone. Something about being in a spell of trouble and unable to attend classes for a couple of days, alongside an apology that asked her not to worry. She had only received it the night prior, just as she had got home after leaving the Professor's and asking Shinichi if he could look for her missing friend. Contrary to Eisuke's intentions, Ran's concern for him had only grown upon reading the pessimistic unertones and noticing the hurried typing of it; and she was glad she had asked Shinichi after all. Discovering her friend at Shinichi's had been such a relief, but now it seemed a poisoned blessing.

"It's okay? Really?" she asked the two boys. She watched as Shinichi sighed and Eisuke struggled with a clumsy grin meant to reassure her.

"Don't worry Ran. It's nothing you need to concern yourself about, nothing yet." Her childhood friend smiled politely as he scratched his head. Obviously, he had had a long night. He led the way to the living room, letting Ran and Eisuke pass first. She didn't notice as he hissed a query about the message she had mentioned into the bespectacled teen's ear, nor did she notice Eisuke's restrained "Later..." in reply.

"Say, Shinichi..." Ran could feel the awkward atmosphere between them. She had obviously interrupted something tense. It was nothing like the peaceful moment she had spent with him on the professor's porch the night before. Even Eisuke, who had been such a good companion for the short time she had known him, seemed to be avoiding her gaze. From her seat on the sofa, she had to deal as best she could with her inner feelings of betrayal and alienation.
"When are you going to explain to me what it is you've been up to all these months?"

"Soon..." Shinichi said, his voice a whisper. "Soon. I just need some time to finish untangling the knots."
He then added, his voice now more akin to his usual, prior self: "Anyway, I don't want to make you late for class. Last I heard from the small twerp-" He paused, as if taken aback by some memory or other... "You already had a warning from the school this month, due to your dad's cases, right?"

"Look who's talking." She couldn't resist the childish urge to poke her tongue out at him. Seeing the effect it had on the two boys, she didn't regret it for more than a blush's worth either. Shinichi laughed, Eisuke chuckled, and the tension she had felt when coming in, the barrier she had sensed between them and her, vanished into thin air. "If it means I can get some answers at last, I'm more than willing to risk any amount of warnings."

She watched as her childhood friend hesitated, along with her newer class transfer friend, but felt relieved once more as the latter smiled and Shinichi grinned. She would have to remember to burn some incense to thank her ancestors for whatever magical luck they had graced her with today.

"Sure Ran. I guess it is as good a time as ever." The high-school detective glanced wryly towards the other boy in the room. "Maybe mister Hondou will do us the honours."

"Haha. Why not..."

Of course, it would have been too much luck for Ran's wish to come true then and there. Just as Shinichi had seated himself, ready to let Eisuke talk, the phone rang. He could have let it ring, he could have chosen to hang up on whoever it had been or switch it to the answer machine... Instead he answered.

Ran felt something in her snap as she overheard the brisk words "I'll be there" and "right away". She watched, her jaw hardening, as Shinichi motioned for them to stay there while he ran out of the room. Not a word as to what the call was about, nor where he was off to or how long. The Mouri daughter decided that enough was enough, and it was time she gave Shinichi some of his own medicine. She grabbed her satchel and Eisuke's arm, and left the room before he could argue or Shinichi could notice. She ignored Eisuke's panicked look and protests, too intent on exiting the house, reaching the street, and resuming her morning walk to high school to care. It was only as she glimpsed back, half expecting to see her favourite teenage sleuth run after them, that her forcibly enlisted companion seemed to understand and forget his own issues with leaving Kudo's living room so brusquely.

Ran was crying.

-viii-

"Dammit," Shinichi thought as he ran out the side door of his house. "This is the worst start to my day I've had in a long while. Please don't let it get any worse."

He rapidly climbed a couple of crates and jumped over a clumsily erected fence. It had attempted to make up for some debris and a hole an oft reckless neighbour had accidentally left in the wall one morning many months ago. He gasped as somehow his hand didn't quite catch hold of the wall as he had expected it to, and found himself landing in a series of clumsy trip-ups. He grabbed his arm but didn't stop, running towards the back of his neighbour's house, down the drive, and unlocked the garage door to let himself in.

He didn't see the two teenagers exit his front door. He didn't see them go onto the main street, nor did he notice Ran turn her head back to his gate with tears in her eyes. But then, neither did they get to see where he had gone, and that was exactly why he had taken that route: so as not to be seen from the street. What Hondou Eisuke had told him, along with his recently acquired knowledge that one of those he had confronted was indeed not dead, had worried him more then he had wanted to let on. So naturally, when he had got the call from the professor...

Shinichi! Come quick, it's Ai-kun; I don't understand what is wrong. I think something has happened. I...

Naturally, he was concerned.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs leading up into the main house, taking care to lock the door behind him. One never knew. He used this time to compose himself, knowing full well it would not help to present himself all frazzled to the professor and Haibara. They didn't know about Hondou yet. Whatever had happened hadn't been anything immediately threatening. Threatening in the close present, maybe, but certainly not in the immediate. He'd be able to think clearer if he, and coincidentally they, stayed calm.

He wondered, for a brief moment, if this was what it felt like for Haibara, before her amnesia. To bury one's conflicted feelings under a mask, to disguise one's guilt behind a smile, to hide one's fears in silence. There had been a time he had considered that being Conan was exactly the same, but now he wasn't so sure. Had Sherry, no, Miyano Shiho been forced to hide aspects of herself like this from her sister, someone who knew her for who she was? Conan had been a mask, yes, but during that time, Shinichi had been able to pin the discomfort inside him on that mask. Now, there was only him, only him to face the disquieting feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was really losing the thread of who he was. He thought back to Professor Agasa, he thought back to Ran, her father, his classmates... No more did he want to feel this pang of secrecy, of alienation from his own self. Soon. Soon it would be over. Of that he was sure.

Once satisfied that he had doctored his expression to what he imagined to be the face of one who followed Holmes, Shinichi climbed the stairs rapidly, but calmly. He felt so tired now, even though a glance at his watch told him it was only eight thirty in the morning. His arm hurt where he had been wounded, and his stomach was a ball of nerves. But he needed to forget all that, and focus only on the case, on what it was that caused his optimistic and good natured friend to call him sounding so distressed.

He quickly found the professor and his young charge by the settees where he and the detective boys had so often sat for an afternoon tea or a newly devised game. There was no abnormal chaos in the room, nothing to indicate any extraordinary behaviour or intrusion, just the stillness of the house, not even disturbed by the sound of a blaring television, radio, or even the turn of a page.

"Professor."

Professor Agasa turned his head to face Shinichi, relief and confusion displayed on his face.
"Shinichi! How di-"

"I used my key, the back door..."the teen detective provided in lieu of an explanation. "So, what happened?"

He sat down opposite the two, and only then noticed that Haibara, who he'd assumed to be merely sitting by the professor, had a hand holding tightly onto Agasa's sleeve. She had her knees up and huddled by her other arm, under her chin, and he couldn't help but notice the tremor running along her shoulders. She looked pale, as pale as he recalled her being whenever she had sensed the organisation in the past. Shinichi felt concern, and a big twinge of guilt and regret as the bandage on her leg reminded him why his lies now felt so different from Conan's lies.

"Well, I..."

"N-Nothing happened." Haibara interrupted the professor's reply, but none of them seemed convinced by the way she said it.
"Nothing at all..." she added, in a quieter voice. After all, how could it have been anything... It was just the feeling of a memory, the lingering image from a nightmare making her quiver.

After a moment's silence, Agasa resumed his answer, his tone subdued, half apologetic, half concerned. The voice of a caring parent.
"I heard her cry out from the lab room downstairs. The small radio had been on. She's been... A little shaken since."

"The radio?" Shinichi's query was met by a nod from his neighbour, whereas Haibara merely looked away, not wanting to acknowledge anything of the event, obviously. Shinichi let his mind return to the still recent day when he'd been sorting through the things in that very room, putting them into either a black or a green box. The black box...

"Professor!" At his startled explanation, Agasa looked at Shinichi's pleading eyes, obviously not quite getting the message the teenager was trying to carry through them. Giving up, the high-school detective sighed and chose the next best option.
"Mind if I... Go down there to check it out? I shouldn't be long."

"Oh. Sure. Of course... Go ahead." And without waiting any longer, Shinichi did so, taking the steps down two at a time.

At the bottom, he paused before opening the door opposite the one he had used to get in. This was the door to the lab room Haibara had spent so much of her time in, looking for the antidote that allowed him to stand there now without hiding behind glasses, or flexing to reach a door knob above his head. He had purposely helped the professor to clear the guest room for Haibara in the hopes of keeping her away from this room for a little while. Apparently it hadn't worked. Oh well, Haibara wasn't about to change, was she? Always making life difficult.

Once in the room, he glanced around. It hadn't changed much from when he had last been in it. The shelves were still the same mess of gadgets and gizmos, and the computer stood resolutely inert on its desk. The rest of the room actually looked tidier than he was used to seeing it. The professor hadn't been feeling up to working on much this past week. He could understand the feeling. Shinichi went and knelt beside the only two objects out of place in the room: a small battery operated radio and a book.

He picked up the radio first. He was fairly familiar with it, having used it on multiple occasions, borrowing it along with a pair of headphones on the occasional case. One of them had been the case following Itakura Saguru's murder, when he'd been wary that the announcement of the man's death on the news might have cut short a trail he had found on the men in black. And what a trail that had been. He smiled, as he remembered the face Haibara had made when she had discovered him in a locker in the train station. She never did find out how close he had been to getting caught that one time. Nor could she remember now if she had.

He bit his lip as he stood up, put the radio on the desk, and looked at the book he had picked up in the process. It was a fairly light book, much to his relief, but his relief did not last, as he noticed the title and author name. It was a collection of poems written by Elisabeth Wittelsbach, of Bavaria, also known as princess Sissi, a nineteenth century Austrian empress. He remembered curiously flicking through it, wondering why Haibara had such a book among her things. He quickly figured out the why as he read one of the pages, and the suicidal thoughts he had found expressed in the poetry had quickly convinced him to put the book in the black box. It had been one of many difficult moments for him as he had gone through her things. It had felt half as if he was mourning a deceased friend, half as if he had been killing her himself; and the finding of objects he hadn't expected there had only reinforced this.

But that didn't matter now. What this meant was that she had clearly had access to the black box, which he had most certainly not wished for. He turned his head this way and that, trying to recall where he had last left it. He found it behind a stash of boxes in the corner, where he had tried to hide it initially. Obviously, something had driven Haibara to find it despite his efforts. He returned the book to it, picked up the box, and chose a different hiding place for it, this time one up high. As he had finished doing so, he heard the professor come down the steps and picked up the radio again.

"Shinichi... Do you know what...?"

Shinichi shook his head and held up his free hand. He was still investigating the cause of Haibara's fright. Even if he had considered the book best out of Haibara's reach for the time being, he doubted that it was the cause of her current state. Curiously, he looked at the dial on the radio, pulled a pen and pad from his pocket, and jotted down the station it had been on.

"Haibara?" he asked Agasa.

"Upstairs. I... Shinichi, I think we need to tell her the truth."

The teenage detective frowned at this. It wasn't the first time his neighbour had expressed this opinion, and though he momentarily felt a twinge of doubt himself, things like princess Sissi's poems reminded him of why he didn't think the time was right. Not yet.

"May I?" Shinichi gestured towards the computer. The professor nodded, though his face was still a picture of unhappy concern.

After a moment of silence as the computer's system loaded, the high-school student conceded to acknowledging Agasa's concern, albeit indirectly.

"She found the black box." He had sounded terser than he had intended to. For some reason, he now felt slightly angry that box had been so easily accessible by her, so soon. And he knew he only had himself to blame.

"Reason more to tell her the truth now!" exclaimed the professor.

"Professor, we've been through this before..." countered Shinichi. He quickly entered some address into the computer's internet browser as he went on. "You know what it is she will find in that box. Pain. Confusion. Regret. You said yourself that you wanted to protect her from all that."

"Yes," the old man replied. "I did, but I do not think I can protect her this way any more. All we are doing is postponing the inevitable."

Shinichi flicked his wrist to look at the time, clicked a few links, then bit his lip as the website he was on seemed to challenge his surfing skills.

"That may well be, but I'm still convinced that we need this extra time." Shinichi raised his head as he seemed to find the web-page he was after. "I told you that Gin escaped the blast, didn't I?"

"Yes..." The professor didn't seem too convinced of the relevance of this to his young neighbour's point.

"Well, I think I've found an explanation as to how he could have left the area despite his injuries."

"What, truly?" For a moment, the professor's doubts seemed washed away by his surprise. Obviously, Shinichi had mentioned something that had the potential to alleviate them somewhat.

"Yes. Hondou Eisuke found me this morning. Or should I say I fell upon him. I suspect Gin may have threatened him somewhat to get him to assist in his escape." He momentarily muttered some numbers as he scrolled down a page. "...Shit."

"What's wrong?"

"Tell me again what happened with Haibara this morning?"

Puzzled, the professor did so:
"I heard her cry out as I finished with breakfast; I came down the stairs to find her on the floor. She looked so pale Shinichi, she was shivering, and it was only barely that I heard her tell me to switch the radio off. That seemed to do something to calm her down, but I don't think I can stand the idea of having to go through this again without warning. I don't think she can either."

"At what time?"

"Huh?"

"At what time did she cry out?" Shinichi repeated his query.

"It had just turned eight, I think. Why, was there a news cast on at that time? You don't think that Gin..."

"No," interrupted Shinichi. "I'm afraid it's not something as drastic as that." He pointed at the computer screen, inviting his old friend to read a line he had singled out.

"Eight am, Nanatsu no Ko... The song Seven Children?!"

"Yes." Shinichi stood to look Agasa in the eyes. "That's probably what did it this morning, but you are also right to be concerned about Gin."

The professor stayed quiet for a moment, as he processed what his young neighbour had just told him. From the expression on his face, it was clear he did not like the conclusions he was coming to.

"And you're telling me, Shinichi, that we still should not tell her the whole truth?"
Shinichi had to stop himself from flinching as the tone in Agasa's voice dropped dangerously close to disappointment and cold anger. Not the frustrated anger he usually directed at his harder projects or unhelpful colleagues, no. It was an anger he had never before associated with the professor.

He went to open his mouth, but the professor's hand was up, signaling that he had not finished with him yet.
"You can give me your arguments all you want Shinichi, my mind is made up. You go and take care of her for the rest of the morning, see how you like to witness such turmoil in her soul. I shall be out of here, before I decide to tell her everything myself. I think I need to go calm down first anyway."

Fear gripped Shinichi as he watched the professor, his face an unfamiliar mask of disdain, turn from him towards the door. A weak "Professor" escaped his lips, and for a brief moment he recalled that night.

He heard her shout out from nowhere, and then suddenly she was there. There when she shouldn't have been, there in the last place he had wished her to be. He watched, terrified, as she placed herself between him and the oncoming blast, in the place that should have been his in relation to her. His legs automatically moved, as he jumped to prevent the worse from happening, all the while dreading that it would all be for nil, fearing that he'd lose her.

Shinichi hated the gut feeling that came with that memory, the slight nausea he felt at the mere idea of losing Haibara all over again, of losing the Professor's friendship. This was why he wanted to protect Haibara from her memories, to protect the Professor from Gin and Haibara's pain.
His step strangely uncertain, he tripped after the professor, out of the basement lab, towards the garage door the older man had already gone through. He couldn't think of anything to keep him back, he couldn't think straight at all. He heard the Beatle start and the garage doors open, the car leave, and still nothing came. He'd been standing, stranded by his strangled emotions by the stairs, for a good minute before he noticed the shape sitting next to his leg. It was only when he felt a small hand grasp tightly at his calf that he realized Haibara had been sitting there, as pale as when a certain doctor had boarded a certain bus.

Somehow, that contact helped him to get over his own moment of weakness. There was something more important than his own panic. There was a child in need of reassurance. He knelt down to her height and pulled her into a shaky embrace... But not without a pang of guilt at seeing her for the first time as truly a child. Not without the nagging worry that maybe, just maybe, she had heard all that he and the professor had said.

It didn't help that she seemed to be trying to reassure him as much as he intended to reassure her.

-viii-

To be continued...

... Thanks to Astarael for Beta-Reading! And sorry this update took so long. (Hides.)