Shinichi jolted from the nap he was taking and stared at his offending phone. Case files and papers scattered about him like morbid flower petals of violence and death. His half touched coffee now cold and gross sat just behind his head on side table. More papers slid to the floor as he sat up and took his phone out of his back pocket. An email from Hakuba.
Sounds great. I’ll meet you then.
He hit the send and rolled back on to his side. Papers crumpling and complaining under his weight. He jumped when a pen poked him in the ribs. Offend he tossed it towards the desk and missed. Glaring at he snorted and curled back up with his back to it. After a few minutes he was snoring softly and ruining the cold case documents.
The flight was long; so much longer than Hakuba remembered. How did he used to make this trip so often back in the day? By the time he deplaned, he wanted nothing more than to take his medication and sleep until his meeting with Shinichi. God, his back hurt.
If it hadn’t been for Twig, he might have avoided asking for help despite the pain. Fortunately, wounded though his pride was, he still had some degree of common sense… and no desire to end up at a Japanese hospital. He remembered all too well how foreigners were treated. But, the Tokyo International Airport representatives were kind to tourists, and helped with Hakuba’s luggage after a brief conversation in which they were overly enthusiastic about his admittedly rusty Japanese.
He tried, very hard, to not feel insulted by it. It wasn’t their fault that he was no longer really news in the country, and he did have an accent. Alas.
Somehow, eventually, he made it to where his father was waiting – for once – and managed an awkward bow to the airport staff before letting the Superintendent General take over for him. Desperate to avoid awkward conversation, Hakuba feigned sleep in the car ride to the manor, and a little while later, found himself, finally, in his old bed.
The room was barer than he remembered, but it was comforting in a way. It hadn’t changed. And, really, if it weren’t for the corgi curled up next to him, it was just like those days when he used to lie there, waiting for sleep. Though, unlike before, he had medication to help with that now. Such nice, strong medication that eased the thoughts right out of his mind.
Hakuba looked to the window, instantly reminded of Kaitou Kid. How often had he wished for him to visit? It was still bright out, only early afternoon. Kid still did heists… Perhaps he could…
No.
No. He was not about to get wrapped up in that again. Instead, he strained for his phone and typed a message out to Shinichi.
[text] I have, in fact, made it to Japan in one piece. Will Saturday still work for you?
Better.
He closed his eyes and let the painkillers and jet lag overtake him, fingers threading lazily through the coarse fur on the dog’s neck. Hakuba was no longer a detective and had no reason to chase a thief. Not that he could, anyway. But discussing cases and Holmes with a fellow detective at a cafe? That was safe.
Painful, but safe.
