Disclaimer: Detective Conan belongs to Aoyama Gosho.

Random news: I've created a new forum for Ai! The link to it should be in my bio.

Author's note: I swear this will be the ONLY sequel of anything that I'll ever, ever do. But it's only a "sequel" because I decided that, instead of writing another one-shot with an Xmas party, I might as well use the one I've already created. This can pretty much stand alone, which is what it was supposed to do. The only reason I wrote this is because it's ShuichiShiho pairing, not because I celebrate Xmas all that much. But Merry Xmas anyway!

A Cup of Hot Chocolate (sequel to A Glove, a Slap, and a Merry Christmas)

So many people in the house, so much noise. Haibara sighed. Her warm breath blew away and melted some of the snowflakes drifting down from the sky. True, they'd cleaned up the mess in the basement. True, she'd promised that she'd join them and party this Christmas. But so many people, so much noise. Even though she was out on the porch, the noise was still distinct and loud.

Parties. She mentally shook her head and rolled her eyes at the idea. Such nonsense. When she left the basement and entered the living room earlier, everyone came forward to greet "Merry Christmas" to her. It wasn't bad to get so much attention all of the sudden, and it wasn't bad to receive so many presents even though they were probably useless toys. It was just too many too much.

She remembered when she was seven—when she was actually seven years old. That Christmas party. The only other one that she'd been to in her life. At that time, it was too little attention, too few presents, but so many people, so much noise all the same. It was snowing, too. On that porch of that house in that town in the United States. Except she wasn't alone. He was there, and they each had a cup of hot chocolate.

She remembered that day when she transferred again. This time, to that class, where she met that person. Nobody talked to her, except him.

-0-

"It must be hard," he said as he sat down next to her, "to be in sixth grade when you're only seven years old."

She looked up at him. They had warned her against talking too much to people who were not Them and had especially warned her against making friends. Study, They'd told her, and that's all you need to do. But this boy here had put things differently from most people. "People always say that I must be a prodigy for skipping so many grades. Why do you say that it must be hard?" she asked.

He blinked. "Well, I think you're really smart, too. But you know, making friends and all. That's gotta be tough."

"I don't need friends," she said, going against her thoughts. You listen to Us, follow Our orders... The strawberry blonde girl shifted away from the boy, hoping that he'd go away. She feared Them, but she didn't want to tell him to leave and stay away. She didn't mind his company, really.

"It's tough for me, too," he said, as though she'd said nothing, done nothing. "I think it's because I'm adopted."

She looked at him again. "I'm adopted as well." Using the verb in the loosest sense, of course.

"Really?" He sounded excited. "What do your adoptive parents do, do you know?"

She shook her head.

"Me neither. Do you think they might do the same thing? Yours and mine?"

She only smiled.

-0-

She continued to smile, now. More than ten years later. At that time, she smiled because he'd said it in a funny way that amused her and because she didn't know how else to respond. Don't imagine, don't ask, They'd told her. Later on, she'd find out that his parents worked for the FBI.

"Oh yes, same thing," she scoffed softly, reminiscing. And yet strangely enough, They'd done nothing to stop her from becoming friends with him.

-0-

He asked her to his Christmas party. She went. Well, not really his party, but his guardians'. So it was boring. Too many adults, too many incomprehensible conversations.

"How about we go and sit on the porch?" he suggested after they sat on the sofa and stared at the TV for an hour or so. "I think it's snowing."

"Okay," she said.

They went out and sat on the porch for another long while. Half an hour? An hour? Ten minutes? They didn't know, but they didn't speak to each other in however long that time was. They just sat there and watched the snow fall. Then he shivered. "It's kind of cold," he remarked. "I'll be right back." He got up and went back into the house.

She watched the door close and then turned back to watching the snow fall. Without his presence, the noise in the house became distinct and loud. Too many people, too much noise.

The door creaked open. The noise became louder. The door slammed shut. The noise became muffled.

"Here you go," he said, holding out a mug, and sat back down. "Hot chocolate." He had one, too.

"Thank you," she said.

And silence followed. Except for the noise coming from the people in the house.

-0-

That day came again, when she had to transfer again. Skip to a higher grade. Again. Everything was different. The only thing that didn't change that last day was their daily walk around the park near the school. He bought her the ice cream, the ice tea. He pushed her on the swing... But even that tradition was altered by the lingering sad silence.

"We'll meet again. I'm sure," he told her before they parted at sundown. She smiled and nodded. He smiled and patted her head. "Catch you later, Shiho!" he called out as he raced off to his guardians' car.

She waved. And under the sunset, there was the image that she would always remember. From the day they met to the day they parted...his back and backpack, the backpack with "Shuichi Akai" printed on it. Red and black.

-0-

Haibara buried her face into her hands and let out a bitter laugh. Then she stretched out her legs and lifted her head. Snow was falling onto this porch of this house in this town...and that was where the similarities—everything—ended. Except for the people and the noise. So many people, so much noise.

The door creaked open. The noise became louder. The door slammed shut. The noise became muffled.

The strawberry blonde girl's eyes widened and she spun around to look at the person. Too bad that that was where the similarities—everything—ended. Haibara forced out a smile. "Tsuburaya-kun."

"I saw you come out, Haibara-san," Mitsuhiko said and held out his hand, which was holding a mug. "Hot chocolate. It's cold tonight."

She stared. Snow was falling onto this porch of this house in this town. She wasn't alone. He was there with a cup of hot chocolate.

"Do you not want it?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"Oh yes, I do," she said and took the warm mug in her hands. "Th—thank you." She felt like crying. She bit her lips and took a deep breath.

Mitsuhiko shifted on his feet. Cold, perhaps. He wasn't wearing a jacket. "Um, do you want to go inside, Haibara-san?" he asked.

She looked up and realized that she was cold. "Yes... Let's."

They went indoors. The door creaked open. The noise became louder. The door slammed shut. The noise remained.

So many people, so much noise.

And so much warmth.

(END)