Disclaimer: Lessee, who can I blame for this one? Gosho Aoyama, for creating Detective Conan. Vathara, for getting me hooked enough ON a certain other fandom to spawn this crackbunny. And Ocianne and Snickerer, for not helping me shoot, skin, stuff, and mount the thing in chat last night! As I said, this is a crackbunny. Therefore it is short and fluffy. It is rated G by the Motion Picture Association for hints of violence that even Disney wouldn't mind.
"So," Sato Miwako began, casting a sidelong look at her partner. "I heard you've got a little vacation coming up?"
"Hai, Sato-san, just a few days, plus my days off." From the passenger seat of the car, Takagi Wataru gave her a shy smile. Sato smiled back, glad to see him less than frazzled for once.
Turning her gaze back to the road, she continued. "What are you planning to do? Going off somewhere with a pretty girl?"
Takagi blushed. "No! N-no, not at all. I have... um, family coming in for a visit, that's all. They haven't been to Tokyo for quite some time, so I'm just going to show them around."
Family, hmm? Thinking about it, Sato realized she didn't know all that much about Takagi's family, though she probably knew more than anyone in the department. She knew he'd been orphaned young, to the point where he barely remembered his birth parents, and that he'd grown up mostly in the less-developed areas outside the city. But really, she knew almost nothing about the people who'd raised him. Takagi had only ever said they were "kind and patient," nothing else.
Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could manage to run across Takagi and his visitors sometime during the next few days. After all, she'd joined the police force to solve mysteries, hadn't she?
"Attention, all units in Beika," the radio crackled suddenly.
"Dead body?" Takagi guessed, sighing. Sato swatted him as the radio continued.
"Reports of an attempted robbery at Poirot Café in the second block of the Beika district. Situation is reported under control, but a unit is needed to take the suspect into custody," the dispatcher continued.
Picking up the handset, Sato replied. "Show me reporting to that one, dispatch, we're in the area." As a matter of fact, the café was only one street over from their current position.
It didn't take the pair of officers long to pull up at the café, which had several people inside, standing near the door. Absently, Sano noted that none of the Mouri family, nor their entourage, seemed present, which argued well for this being a routine stop. Then she walked through the door, and that idea went right out the window.
The would-be robber was easy to identify. He wore a ski mask over his face, black clothing... oh, and he was lying out cold on the ground with a large knife beside him. Standing over him, however, was an impossibility.
The man was short, probably reaching slightly shorter than Sato herself, even without her heels. His features were definitely Japanese, but his eyes were a wide, innocent violet, and his hair was flaming red, of a color she'd never even seen on gaijin. And his clothes-- the man was dressed like something out of a history book, wearing off-white hakama and a faded gi that had probably started as red, but was now slowly edging towards a soft pink. To complete the image, a cross-shaped scar decorated the man's left cheek, clashing badly with the innocent expression in his eyes. The robber's unconsciousness was explained by the broom held tightly in the redhead's grip, obviously pressed into service as a makeshift wooden sword.
"What happened here?" Sato demanded, jaw on the ground. Behind her, she heard Takagi give a resigned sigh.
"I see you got into town a little early, Uncle Kenshin..."
Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki, not me.