xay2jang - Tumblr blog

xay2jang · 3 years ago

Text

until the flowers bloom again

My @shinranweek entry for Day 5 (Family)

Summary: Shinichi comes back from his case, trauma and a bullet wound as souvenirs, and he does his best to rebuild his life after it had all fallen apart..

Rating: Teen and up (for swearing and a lil angst / working through trauma)

Word Count: 10,657

Read the whole thing on AO3

What is family?

As a child, he would confidently say that a family was a mother, a father, and a child (he would then side-eye the kids with siblings , and amend the statement to children ) under a roof.

He, along his many peers, would agree with his fair assessment. A family was a mother and a father loving their child (or children).

And then Ran’s family fell apart, and he had to reevaluate his concept of family . Which was stupid, if you asked him. Ran still had her parents, just that they don’t live together anymore- she can still call them her family, right?

(Ran pushed him down the slide when he expressed this. He has no idea what he deserved to have such brutal treatment.)

Fine. So, family didn’t have to be a mother and a father loving their child (or children). It could be a mother who leaves and loves from afar, a father who stays and tries to love, and a child who wishes her love was enough to keep them together.

His world view is always changing, and he loves to learn. He takes this new information well.

(And then a few years later, his parents leave for the United States, and he comes to terms that family could be a mother who leaves, a father who leaves, and a child who copes).

>>><<<

(And then a few years after that, his entire life falls apart in one night and he gets caught up in a terrifying case, but somehow his family becomes the grumpy uncle who tries to get his shit together, and a girl whom he loves dearly, nursing a broken heart.)

>>><<<

Slowly, but surely, his idea of what constitutes as family, changes.

He collects the people he cares about, like a dragon collecting precious jewels for its hoard, and he tries, god he tries, to keep them safe.

And when he returns from that terrifying case, he can’t let go of the people he had grown to care about, those he had grown attached to.

>>><<<

Ran laughs at his frenzied state, which he finds very insulting, thank you very much. Here he is not at all panicking because the kids (his kids that he had looked after and watched grow up over the last two and a half years) are coming over to his house.

His girlfriend had told him that they had demanded to meet this mysterious Kudou-boyfriend, and here he is, trying to find a shirt in his closet that looked casual enough to not look stuffy and uptight, but not too casual that he looked like he wasn’t trying hard enough and came across as a slob.

“Fair warning, I think Genta-kun is ready use his body and slam you into the floor should he deem you unsuitable,” she had said to him lightly.

It’s utter bullshit. He’s the one that taught them that Ran is someone very special and they had to pinky promise him that they would look after her (and now look at him – reaping the seeds he had sown).

He glances over at Ran, who sits on the edge of his bed, the warmest and softest looking knitted jumper tucked into a long skirt, and he has to try and catch his breath.

Mouri Ran is undoubtedly the prettiest person he knows, and he is so goddamn lucky that she is in his life.

“Love, can you please help me choose an outfit?” He doesn’t whine, but wow is he close, “They’re going to be here soon and I only decided on what pants to wear.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain?”

Fucking hell.

Shinichi stumbles over his feet, cheeks burning as he splutters out a response, “Ran! That is unhelpful- no stop laughing- let's focus please!”

He is entirely in love with her, and watching the light dance in her eyes, he just knows he wants to be with her forever.

(He used to believe that things would never improve. That he would die in a body far too young to be his own. That he would forever exist on a separate passage of time. This? This is something he had dreamed of with a bated breath, tears in his eyes when he had woken up with Kogoro’s snores in his ears.)

Ran appears back in his vision (and they both pretend to not notice his flinch), holding out a grey and white button up shirt he is pretty sure was a gift from Sonoko. “How about this?”

Has he mentioned how much he loves her?

>>><<<

Shinichi almost lets out a yell when he spots Ran in the doorway, arms crossed with a serene expression on her face – her eyes following his movements, her pouty lips pulled into a smile. He knows she does her best to not sneak up on him, so she must have tried to stand somewhere he would easily see her, but also didn’t want to interrupt him.

“Hi love, who was at the door?” He lowers his right hand from the piano, rolling back his stiff shoulders (Ran wincing at the audible cracks of the joints) before- “Wait, Genta? What are you doing here?”

Half hidden behind Ran in the doorway stands Genta, eyes wide with his hands in pockets, as if startled that he had been addressed to begin with.

Shinichi lets his eyes sweep the area, his ears straining – and nothing. Genta came by himself.

“Hi Shinichi-niichan,” the kid (his kid, his mind helpfully reminds him) says, stepping into the room.

He shoots the silent question at his girlfriend, who decides now is the perfect time to ignore his existence, and instead, ushers Genta to the couches shoved against the wall.

Years ago, Sonoko had suggested that they steal the armchairs from the library and stash them in the spare room, which they had remodeled to a makeshift music room. It had become a whole project – Sonoko ordering way too many soundproofing tiles to stick to the wall, and then promptly arguing with Ran about the correct orientation (Ran had won, of course); the display cabinet which had taken them three hours to assemble, proudly showcasing the dried roses from congratulatory bouquets and commemoratory photographs (the awards and trophies pushed to the back); and the bookshelf unit Ran had hauled from another room in the house, filled to the brim with music scores and books collected from over the years.

Shinichi would say that he is very proud of the room, and he knows that they had sought refuge within the walls whenever they had to escape from life.

So, he watches Genta look around the room in awe, cataloguing everything with a keen eye like he had taught them.

(“You never know when something will be important to a case. But most of all, you check to see where the exit points are, okay?”

“Okay, Conan-kun!”)

Ran sits down next to Genta, letting him molding himself into her, and she offers a sad smile to Shinichi.

Ah.

“What do you know about the piano, Genta?” Shinichi asks.

The child blinks up at him, his (trembling) hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Uh, not much?”

“Would you like to listen for a bit?”

He seems to have said the right thing, because Genta relaxes at the suggestion, a huge grin appearing on his face. “Yes please!”

Ran giggles at the enthusiasm, “He’s a bit rusty, so we can’t laugh at him, okay?”

“I am a musical genius, Ran. Genta- don't listen to her,” Shinichi warns, pointing at both of them with his good hand. He splays his fingers across the keys, feet tapping against the pedals as he frowns over the musical notes on the page.

What Ran had said was true. He hadn’t played the piano in years. It had only been something he had picked up briefly before moving right onto the violin.

But now with his arm in a sling and no violin playing for him for the next foreseeable future, smashing out the melodies with his right hand seemed like a grand way to pass time.

Taking a breath, he begins again, a few bars from where he left off, and soon, the music fills the room.

(At a break in the music, he risks a glance over his shoulder, tension bleeding from his frame when he notices Genta curled sideways on the couch, head resting in Ran’s lap. Her fingers run through his short tufts of hair soothingly.

I love you, he mouths.

They’re safe.

I love you too, she mouths back.)

>>><<<

“Guys, you can’t all hold my hand.”

Sonoko gasps, smacking her forehead as she is overcome with an epiphany, “Rock-paper-scissors this bitches. The winner gets to hold his hand.”

Shinichi massages his temple as his friends dutifully ignore him. They are huddled in a top-secret meeting, a little way away, apparently to decide who can stand next to him, which he finds very bizarre.

He continues to sit on the park bench, watching over his closest friends.

Shouts of disbelief and threats of varying levels are screamed out, but Ran skips towards him with a happy smile, closely followed by a very upset Heiji.

“I take it you won.” The words are barely out of his mouth before they squish onto the bench, taking a side each, Ran on his right, Heiji on his left.

“Ran is a cheating whore and she should have been excluded,” Sonoko seethes, stalking up to them.

He would love to hide, but seeing as he is currently trapped in the hold of two very strong individuals, he has to gulp and stands his ground. “Sorry?” But his apology sounds weak even to his own ears (because holy shit? How can someone holding his hand feel this good?)

His girlfriend rubs circles with her thumb across his knuckles and Heiji’s larger hand, so warm and comforting, rests on his knee.

Sonoko, his other best friend of too many years, sees through his (shitty) poker face, and reaches up to ruffle his hair. His protests are futile because is still very much trapped in the intense handholding session, and Sonoko takes advantage of this (like the gremlin she is).

“I forgive you because this is the funniest thing I have witnessed, and I enjoy seeing you attempting to not enjoy the attention.”

He hates her.

(It’s a lie. He would do anything for his friends, Sonoko very much occupying one of the Top Five spots, and she knows this.)

“Isn’t he cute?” Ran coos, surging up to press her lips against his cheek, curling in to his neck to giggle when Sonoko pretends to gag. Heiji, from his other side, huffs at the ‘display of dominance’ and kisses his other cheek.

Shinichi acts that his face isn’t on fire. Wow, the day is sure hot.

Kazuha appears from behind them, Makoto in tow, balancing six drinks between the two of them. She raises an eyebrow at his obvious flustered state, eyes catching his hands, and she smirks.

“Caramel frappe?” Kazuha reads out the tiny scrawls written on the cup, “And a vanilla cold brew?”

Shinichi cocks his head, “Mine was a cold brew. Just make sure it’s not the one with almond milk – that's Sonoko’s drink.”

“The caramel one is mine, Kazuha-san. This one is yours then, Sonoko-chan,” Makoto says, handing her the drink, while Kazuha places the vanilla coffee in Sonoko’s other hand (seeing as he has no free hands available). “Hattori-kun, which did you order?”

Sonoko grins, putting the drink in front of his face, the straw inches from his mouth.

He scowls.

She gently shakes the drink out, and he sighs, sipping his drink through the straw. It’s annoying that it tastes good.

Heiji tears his fascinated eyes away from him to answer, “The hazelnut one.”

“Okay, here you are! And this one must be yours, Ran-san?” Makoto asks, passing the last drink to her, “It’s the chocolate frappe.”

He can feel the weight of Ran’s dazzling smile, and he’s not even facing her. Fuck.

Heiji suddenly cuts in, “Suzuki-chan, I’ll take Kudou's drink.”

“Do not give it to him- Wow. Screw you Sonoko,” Shinichi groans.

The Kansai detective holds out the coffee for him, and he wordlessly accepts, taking another sip.

>>><<<

He stares at the blue sweater in his hand.

There’s a hole.

He hadn’t meant to. He had been wearing it around the house, his fingers playing with the hem of the sweater, thinking about- god, what had he been thinking about? Food? How Ayumi was doing at school- how Ai was coping at night- whether Heiji was surviving university- what piece he should let Genta try on his violin.

He doesn’t remember what he had been thinking about.

All of them, maybe.

Or nothing at all.

Shinichi stares at the hole on the sleeve. It’s a noticeable rip, snagged on the handle of a cupboard, because he still has trouble balancing at times. He had fallen backwards, sleeve caught, and in his panic, wrenched his arm away from whatever had grabbed him.

It had been nothing, in the end. Just phantom hands clutching at his body, threatening to pull him into the shadows. Nothing but his hyperactive imagination.

He stares at the hole in the sleeve.

Almost the same size a bullet hole

He stares, numb.

In his hand, the sweater becomes stained, the threads darkening. Like how water flows through channels, like how vibrations travel along a spiderweb, like how poison runs through veins-

There’s a hole in his sweater and his world begins to unravel.

He lets it fall to the ground (like how dead bodies fall).

There’s a hole-

He walks away.

>>><<<

Shinichi waking up in the dead of night is unfortunately, quite the common occurrence. Something to do with the amount of trauma he has gone through, the amount of death he has witnessed, the number of times he nearly lost the people he loves.

Hell, if someone so much as whispered during the night, his brain would pick up on it and he would not feel relaxed enough to go back to sleep unless he triple-checked the reason he had woken up. And then on the other hand, a room that was too quiet would sound too jarring that he would wake with his erratic heart beating in his mouth.

So yes, waking up in the dead of night is a normal occurrence.

He is also used to waking up because someone is shuffling around in the house.

He is not, however, used to waking up because some part of him is screaming at him that something is wrong.

Shinichi can’t put his finger on it. His hand carefully reaches over and brushes against Ran’s arm (warm, soft, alive ) and his lips twitch into a fond smile.

Not Ran then.

Trying not to wake his girlfriend, he slips out of bed, murmuring reassurances when she reaches out for him in her sleep. He eases the door to his bedroom open, bare feet cautiously making their way down the hardwood floors.

He’s about to check the other bedrooms in the hallway, when he notices a light from downstairs, the faint sound of a tap being turned on and off reaching his ears.

One of the kids are awake, and he has to make sure. Make sure that they were fine. Make sure that nothing is wrong.

He slowly walks down the stairs, each step shaking him more and more awake, until he reaches the bottom, and his entire body is tingling. Thankfully, Shinichi has enough brain power to remember to make enough noise to alert his kid that he is approaching (the last thing he needs to do it cause them to panic).

Check check check-

He rounds the corner to the kitchen, and his body relaxes when his eyes lands on the small figure huddled near the sink.

“Hey Mitsuhiko, what are you doing at,” Shinichi squints at the green numbers illuminated on the microwave, “2:53AM?”

The boy shrugs, placing his empty glass onto the kitchen counter. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Shinichi studies him a while. The exhaustion in his bloodshot eyes, the paleness of his face, the bags beneath his eyes, the slump of his shoulders.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” he asks.

Mitsuhiko jolts at the question. “N-Now? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Right back at you.” Rubbing at the knot in his left shoulder, he ushers the kid out of the kitchen, “Come along. Let’s go watch something stupid.” His mind is already running through the list of potential shows to throw on his laptop.

They enter the back room, couches covered in blankets and discarded pillows from the earlier that night greeting them as he flicks on the overhead light. Mitsuhiko picks through the piles of throws and selects a suitable one while Shinichi grabs his laptop from where it had been charging against the wall.

Shinichi settles into the couch, propping the laptop on the table and patting the empty space beside him, “We have a wonderful selection of Kamen Yaiba reruns, Pokemon, Hattori’s Aztec Empire documentary- what the hell is that guy watching, and a bunch of superhero movies. Anything take your fancy?”

Mitsuhiko burrows himself into the couch, his body falling into the crook of Shinichi’s side. “I think Heiji-oniisan may cry if we watch his show without him.”

“More the reason to watch it,” he sniffs.

The younger boy giggles, batting at his knee, “That’s so mean.”

“Hattori would never get upset with you guys. I don’t think he knows the concept.”

Mitsuhiko hums. He picks at the cuff of his sleeve. “Haibara-san said that you wouldn’t get upset or- disappointed with us.”

The blasted woman has a point- wait disappointed? Where would he get such an idea?

“I would never be disappointed in you guys. Sometimes I may get upset, but that’s because I care about you and sometimes, I get scared that things could happen to you guys.” He drapes his good arm around the boy’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his body. “But I will never ever be disappointed- you will never be a disappointment, okay?”

“Even if it’s childish to- to have dreams and can’t sleep?”

Shinichi sighs, rubbing his hand along Mitsuhiko’s arm. “I’m sorry you’re having nightmares. They’re never fun. But no, they don’t make you childish or weak.” He leans forwards and taps his laptop, quickly lowering the volume when the cheerful melody of Doraemon starts playing, letting the soft murmurs of the animated characters fill the suffocating silence.

“Do you... do you get nightmares too?”

“Almost every day.”

The boy turns to him, eyes wide in shock. “Really? Isn’t that scary?” Soon as the words leave his mouth, he blushes, dropping his head to stare at his hands in his lap.

“It’s exhausting,” Shinichi admits. “I wake up and I have to convince myself that I’m alive, and that my family is safe. It helps when Ran stays over. Because I can see her. Every night is a different nightmare.”

Mitsuhiko shifts on the couch, pulling a cushion into his lap, hugging it to his chest, chin resting on top. “I hate going to sleep. I lay there for hours, and my brain won’t turn off. And when it does...”

“Nightmares?”

A small nod. “Do you ever feel like... you’re not yourself? Like it’s your body and you’re going through life, but it also doesn’t feel real? I- I can’t explain it- But it’s scary.”

“Way too often.” He presses his lips into a thin line, unsure whether to continue or not, but Mitsuhiko is a smart kid. Much smarter than people give him credit for. “Have you heard of something called dissociation?”

“Dissociation?”

“It’s a broad concept, but it essentially is about being disconnected from your own feelings, your thoughts, or your sense of identity. And sometimes, it’s your body’s way of coping with something traumatic that’s happened in your life.”

“Oh...”

The people on the screen run through the green fields, muted laughter and chatter hiding the silence that follows his explanation.

“Have you...” Shinichi pauses, trying to think of how to put his thoughts into words, without ruining everything. He’s been told enough times that he can lack tact and has a habit of blundering through sensitive conversations. “This has been taking a toll on you, hasn’t it.”

Mitsuhiko nods again, face hidden behind the pillow.

“You’ve gone through things that no one should have had to go through, and you’re right to be upset and feel helpless... Thank you for sharing your struggles with me, Mitsuhiko,” he hesitates, before continuing softly, “and I think it would be helpful to share this with a therapist.”

He lifts his head slightly, watery eyes peeking through his fringe. “A th-therapist- but I’m not- Am I broken?”

“Oh goodness no- That's not-” Shinichi reaches over, brushing the hair from the child's face. “Seeing someone doesn’t mean you’re broken or that you need fixing. They help. They help you to learn how to cope with things and help you come up with strategies to regulate your emotions.”

“But you think... you think I need help?”

He hates how fragile his kid looks on the couch. Shinichi gestures to the cast on his arm, “If I came up to you with a broken arm, would you tell me to just stay at home and see how it goes, or would you suggest I see the doctor?”

Mitsuhiko blinks, taken aback. “I- uh what? Of course, you should go to the doctor-”

“I’m glad you think so. Ran would have had some words if you thought otherwise.”

That brings out a short chuckle. They both know how worried and overprotective Ran could get (a few days ago, she almost dragged Makoto to the ER for having a bleeding knuckle from boxing practice. It took ten minutes for them to convince her that Makoto would survive with a band-aid.)

Shinichi continues, “So if you would go to the doctor for a broken arm, there’s also no reason why you can’t go to the doctor for mental health.”

“But- you can’t see it.”

“But it still exists. It’s in the brain, yes, but it is also the brain, ” he points out. “The brain is an organ, is it not?”

Something akin to an epiphany lights up behind the child’s eyes.

“Mental health can cause headaches, stomach aches, insomnia, and that can lead to the deterioration of the physical body.” Shinichi fights the urge to fix Mitsuhiko’s hair again. “Do you remember that car accident we heard about last week? We and the police thought it was because the driver was driving under the influence?”

Mitsuhiko nods. “The breath test came back negative- She... she said she had accidentally fallen asleep at the wheel...”

“Of course, we don’t know if she was suffering from insomnia or anxiety, or any mental health issue, but we know she almost got into a fatal accident because she didn’t have enough sleep.” He wets his lips, “But it doesn’t have to be driving. It can be about everyday things, and they can be impacted because of our brain. Walking to school, studying, playing soccer, anything really. That’s why it’s important to look after the silly organ up there.” He taps his head for emphasis.

“I... I think I get what you mean...”

He smiles, reaching over to wipe the tears from Mitsuhiko’s face. “You don’t have to decide anything now. I promise. But if it’s something you want to look into, come talk to me or Ran, okay?” He searches his eyes, “Gather information, form an opinion, and decide. There is no rush. No one is forcing you to do anything.”

“Thank you, Shinichi-oniisan.”

“Anytime.” He glances to where the laptop had been obediently being playing the TV show on low volume. “Did you want to go back to bed or did you want to stay here for a bit?”

Mitsuhiko chews his lips, shooting a nervous look between the laptop, the door, and Shinichi. “Um, is it okay if we stay here for a bit?”

“Not at all. Let’s get comfy.” They rearrange themselves so that the child was once again tucked carefully next to him, the blanket covering their bodies. “We’ll stay here until you want to go back.”

(Shinichi wakes a few hours later with a crick in his neck, Mitsuhiko sleeping sprawled across his body, and an amused Ran standing in the doorway.)

Read the rest here

#dcmk #shinran #fic #suuuuper cute. very warm feeling i liked it a lot!!!#found family + working through/around traumas and etc. chefs kiss!!#very shinichi focus in that its through his eyes we see the gaggle of friends revolving around him

67 notes · View notes