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One Week

Chapter Text

Kazuha stormed into their apartment. With a loud huff, the kicked off her shoes and shoved them into the cubby. Her coat was thrown to the ground, and Heiji flinched as she slammed the door shut behind her.

He buried his nose deeper into his book. Please don’t let it be my fault, please don’t let it be my fault, he begged whatever deities that might be listening.

“Heiji, I need my keys,” she shouted. He could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen, opening and shutting drawers and cupboards in rapid succession.

He swallowed. “Uh, I hung them back up on the key rack.”

She rounded the corner and poked her head into the living room. “Well, they’re not there now, and I have a job interview in less than fifteen minutes. The interview is ten minutes away and I don’t have time to call a cab!” With another frustrated scream-groan, she sped down the hall. “You didn’t leave them on the nightstand?”

“No, I remember putting them away,” he called after her. Setting his book upside down on the arm of the chair, he started down the hall when Kazuha came charging back out of their bedroom.

“They aren’t there,” she muttered angrily, brushing past him. “Where are your keys?”

Following her to the kitchen, Heiji scratched the back of his neck. “At the station.”

“I thought we had a spare set.” She yanked open drawers and dug through them. “I know we had a spare set of keys! What happened to them?”

Heiji stood back, unwilling to get in his wife’s way. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t use those. They don’t have a remote.”

A glance at the clock, and she looked ready to scream. “And now I’m going to be late because you lost my keys!”

“You’re really mad about this,” he realized aloud. She gave him a pure no duh, Sherlock glare and stormed back to the door, yanking on her shoes.

“I’m going to get a ride from Momiji-chan. Bye.”

She slammed the door behind her again, and Heiji flinched (again).

He really screwed up.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Kazuha?”

Heiji’s voice echoing weakly from anywhere was a bad sign. When he was on assignment meant injured, when they were out together meant he had o go on assignment.

When it came from the kitchen, it meant the smoke alarms were about to go off.

She was in the living room, soldering together the wires his broken walkie talkie when his weak cry of help reached her ears. She sighed and turned off the soldering iron. She wasn’t going to get to finish this project until later tonight if the helplessness in his tone was any indication.

“Coming, Heiji.” Setting down the hot iron carefully on her worktable, she set down the solder and slid off her heat gloves. She wiped her sweaty palms on her sweatpants as she entered the kitchen. “What do you wa--”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at the disaster the kitchen had become. Something green and quite possibly alive bubbled in the pot on the stove as the rice cooker spit and smoked next to it, and Heiji stood over the cutting board, a bell pepper in the process of being diced mangled into cubes a minced mush. Various spices were scattered across the countertop next to her old recipe book which was opened to nothing that looked like what Heiji was trying to make.

“What are you doing?” She looked from one failed attempt at cooking to another, mouth open in disbelief.

He looked over at the recipe book. “Fried rice?” It was very much not an answer. “I, uh, don’t know.”

She shook her head and went to the stove. Taking the bubbling (is this supposed to be spinach?) pot of the heat, she turned off the stove and unplugged the rice cooker. It glared at her, grey smoke festering underneath the lid. “Take off that apron. Put down the knife. I’ll see what I can salvage.”

He obeyed and nervously went to hung up the apron. “No, go spray that,” she ordered. “It’s too dirty to wear while you’re cooking.”

Heiji nodded with a sullen expression. “Okay.”

He had to walk past her to get to the laundry room, and she had to go past him to get a new apron. As they passed each other, she caught his arm and met his eyes. “Hey. Don’t worry about dinner, alright? I’m sure I can manage to make something of all this.”

He looked away. “Sorry. I just wanted to make up for the other day. I thought we were fighting about something and… I still felt bad about it.” His cheeks didn’t need to turn red for her to know he was embarrassed.

She gently took his chin and pulled his face towards hers. “It wasn’t all that important,” she admitted. “I let the stress and nerves get to me. But I got the job it’s all okay,” she assured him. She leaned in for a kiss, but then she got a whiff of his clothes. With a cough, she backed off, smiling. “Go change,” she laughed, “and then I’ll kiss you.”

His impish grin swept away his somber mood (One of the reasons she loved him-- he never stayed anything but happy for long), and he pecked her n the cheek. “As you wish.”

Chapter Text

Comfortably sprawled across the couch, Heiji leafed through the case files, skimming over the reports as he looked for what he needed. Two murders in the past week seemed to be similar to one he'd worked in with Kudou back when he was smaller than the average high schooler. If nothing else, the motives might be similar between the old case and the new pair of murders.

He read over the last one with a flicker of irritation. It's not in here. He leaned over and picked up his work bag to stash away the files when a glint of metal at the bottom of the bag caught his eyes. Setting the files down on the table, he reached into his bag and pulled out Kazuha's keys.

He blinked. “Huh.” He looked at the clock. She wasn't going to be home for another hour or so. He could just hang the keys back on the rack.

Or he could spend an hour creating a puzzle for her to solve so she could find the keys hiding under her pillow.

(Was it really a question?)

When Kazuha came to the door, a folded note waited for her, taped to the door. Let the challenge begin! s aid the outside of it.

“Heiji,” Kazuha groaned through the screen door, “what did you do this time?”

“Open it!”

She groaned louder and opened the note. You've lost something, but solve the puzzle and it will be found! First hint: where maps are cold and 'yu’ shapes sit before dinner

“I hate you,” she yelled at him, wherever he was in the house.

“Love you too!”

Chapter Text

They were looking at the desert menu when they heard the scream. Heiji looked up at her helplessly, the menu already falling out of his hands. “I-”

“Heiji, I didn't marry you for your luck,” she said, pulling his face closer to hers. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Go and do your job.”

He stood up and came to her side of the table, leaning down to kiss her again. “I'll make this up to you,” he murmured into her ear. Rising, he ran towards the source of the scream. “What happened? No, don't touch the body...”

The next few days, they ate at home. She'd put up enough charms around their little apartment to keep any dead bodies at least three blocks from the house at all times. Friday night was takeout from the nearby Danny's. It was only built a year or two ago, but it was her favorite place to eat from.

He wasn't really eating, she noticed quickly. He didn't have a case in front of him, and she was pretty sure they weren't fighting about the keys anymore. “Heiji? What's the matter?”

He started like he'd forgotten she was there. “Huh? Um, nothing.” Ducking his head, he tucked into his sandwich. She let him think. Patience on both their parts was one of the reasons they'd been happily married for nearly three years now.

She counted to twenty in her head before she spoke. “Is this about the case at the Sushi Joint?

He swallowed his food with a long drink of water. Setting down his cup, he licked his lips. “Nah,” he said flippantly as though she couldn't read his body language like an open book. “Just thinking how I hope our kids don't get my luck.”

Kazuha went bright red.

Our kids.

They had talked about having a family, but it all seemed far in the future. Sure, she'd had the names of their first child (boy or girl) picked out since high school, but that didn't mean having kids.

It took him approximately two seconds to realize what he'd said, and the recognition came in the middle of another drink of water.

Heiji gagged on his water. “I mean, if we have kids. One day. I'm not saying we need to have kids now, but one day, it would be nice. But not if you don't want to,” he added hastily.

"Heiji, if we're going to have kids, you are not allowed to bring them to crime scenes. Kudou-san did that to Shinichi-kun, and look at how that turned out," she joked. (So invested in crimes he almost died was left unsaid, a line neither of them were willing to cross.)

Kazuha stared at him for a moment before she snorted. "You've got a little something--" She pointed to her nose, and he reached up to his own.

Picking off a little green leaf, he looked at it closely. "What is this?" He sniffed it, and the leaf went up his nose. Heiji sneezed, and Kazuha laughed. A grin crept into his face as her laughter sapped the tension from the room. He laughed with her about nothing at all, and that was perfectly fine.

Chapter Text

A man slammed into Kazuha, nearly knocking her to the ground. Heiji spun around just in time to see the punk running off with something grey and maroon in his hands-- Kazuha's purse.

“Hey, get back here!” Letting go of Kazuha's hand without a second thought, Heiji charged through the crowd after the purse thief as Kazuha was helped to her feet by a well-meaning stranger. Nodding in thanks, she looked at where Heiji had disappeared to. It wasn't too crowded in the streets, so his path of destruction still lingered, albeit faintly. She watched the thief round a corner with Heiji hot on his heels and sprinted after them.

She caught up with them as he cornered the thief on a bridge, the only way out over the edge. “Just give me the purse,” Heiji was saying, ”and we can pretend this never happened.” He held out a hand for the purse, and the thief's eyes darted between Heiji's hand and his face. Slowly, the thief stretched his arms away from his body, holding the purse just out of Heiji's grasp. Heiji glared at home, and with a swift motion, he lunged for Kazuha's purse.

The thief anticipated Heiji, and as Heiji dove for the purse, the thief flung the purse to the side. “You punk,” growled Heiji as the purse's contents spilled across the ground. He leaned down to pick up Kazuha's things, and as Heiji's and Kazuha's attentions were on the bag, the thief leapt to his feet. He snatched Heiji's hat from his head and bolted.

Kazuha was on his tail in fractions of a second. “My turn!” She shouted over her shoulder to her husband, his hands filled with her things, and she tore after the purse-thief-turned-hat-thief.

It helped that the thief glanced over his shoulder periodically in terror, easily giving away his position. In her heels she was a few scant centimeters shorter than Heiji, allowing her more visibility than normal over the crowd.

The thief lost her in the square, but she caught up to him at the water's edge beneath a bridge. She stood on the opposite side of the river. Only a few meters wide, she could easily swim across the water to reach the thief. Cleanup efforts over the years purged the once-murky water of its pollutants and garbage, but it was only early spring. The water was freezing this time of year, and Kazuha did not want pneumonia again.

“Stop!” From her back pocket, Kazuha pulled a gun just like Ai's. It might shoot a bouquet of beautiful flowers from its barrel, but it looked real enough to send the thief's knees knocking together. “Put the hat down or I shoot!” she threatened.

“Geez, lady! Don't shoot!” The thief threw his hands up, and with the motion, Heiji's hat soared into the air. As if in slow motion, it began to float back to the ground when a stray gust of wind blew the hat directly over the water. It fell to the water with a little plip and the thief ran for his life.

With Kazuha's purse finally picked up, Heiji asked around if anyone had seen her. Eight minutes passed before a group of teenagers directed him to a bridge over one of the city rivers.

Heiji ran to the bridge and looked over the railing. She wasn't standing on either side of the river, but her model gun and heels lay abandoned at the river’s edge. He searched the water for any sign of moment when Kazuha surfaced, gasping for breath. She swam for the edge, and Heiji called down to her. “How's the water?”

Looking up at the bridge, her eyes found his as she pulled herself out of the water. “Perfect,” she shot back with an eye roll and a grin.

Heiji's jaw dropped.

The water made Kazuha's clothes cling tightly to her skin. He knew every curve and dip of her body like he knew his own, but he still couldn't help but stare.

“You're gorgeous,” he said, mostly to himself. At last, he saw his hat on her hands his hands dropped further. “Kazuha, I love you!”

She put the decked hat on her dripping hair and sat down to put her heels on. “Then get yourself down here,” she laughed, “and give me your coat. I'm freezing.”

Chapter Text

Licking her lips subconsciously, Kazuha scanned the menu. She'd wanted to try this new sushi place for weeks , but between her job at the psychology lab and Heiji’s erratic schedule, they never could find time to go out. Two months since they'd gone out or even had a meal together, and Kazuha finally invited Ran over to Osaka for a girl's night on the town.

Despite being just as busy as her husband, Ran was able to find a few days between filming sessions to visit.

The actor-slash-stunt-double giggled at Kazuha. “When was the last time you ate, Kazuha? You look like you're starving,” she teased.

“Huh?” Looking up from the menu, it took Kazuha a moment to register Ran's words. Flushing, Kazuha nodded sheepishly. “Oh, sorry. I left my lunch at home on accident, and Heiji's too busy to bring it to me. He does a lot of his work from home these days.”

Ran nodded thoughtfully. “I think you've said that before, but I don't remember why,” she said in the tone of a question.

Kazuha hesitated. “His dad?” she reminded her. “His presence is all over the prefecture.” Ran pursed her lips, nodding. “He gets out of the house, but rarely for work.”

Ran found an interest in the saltshaker for just a moment before looking back to Kazuha. “And how are you holding up? It's been a few weeks, but…” she trailed off. Mourning wasn't something you could rush, she knew. While she had never truly lost him, Shinichi's disappearance was a rollercoaster of grief she often used as reference if she needed to play the part of a grieving character. Now and again she would recall the nights when it felt like the world was crashing down around her, when she didn't want to wake up tomorrow without him.

There were days when she cursed the heavens and asked why, why did she have to go through this and what on Earth did she do to deserve this torment, this dance of lies and truth that no one really knew the steps to but danced all the same. So many days she would wake up and see Shinichi in Conan so clearly and it took all she had to ignore it. There was the anguish of caring so much but not wanting to, of knowing how much easier it would be to hate him but being unable to do so.

Ran knew that grief came in all forms and it was a process. She wouldn't judge if Heiji was only part of the way through it.

Seeing down the menu, Kazuha took the inquiry as intended and smiled weakly, the expression stopping at the corners of her lips. “He's getting better. I can't counsel him because of rules ,” she did little jazz hands, and Ran flashed a grin, “but one of my coworkers is helping him. He's eating better and getting sleep. Less nightmares, too.”

Ran took another sip of her water. “That's great,” she said earnestly. She glanced down at the menu again, abruptly changing the topic. “I think I know what I'm getting.”

Kazuha looked at her own menu. “Which one? I'm thinking the salmon oshi sushi.”

“That does look good,” Ran agreed. “I'm getting the spring sasa sushi.” With a grace only Ran could execute, she leapt back to their previous topic. Her tone slid back to softer tones, the prospect of food cast out of her mind completely. “How are you holding up?”

Kazuha looked down at the table, rubbing her hands together. “I'm focusing on the preparations for the funeral. Heiji's helped for a few things, but he's thrown himself headfirst into his job, leaving little time for anything else.”

Ran opened her mouth, her jaw set in a frown, but Kazuha shook her head. “I'm letting him do it, Ran. He's not neglecting me. I know it seems wrong, but--” she faltered, and Ran's frown didn't disappear. “But, oh. I don't know,” she finally admitted. "I know that I'm technically doing the right thing. I'm trying to let him deal with this at his own pace, but I feel so… useless.” She took a straw from the table and peeled off little pieces of the wrapper at a time.

Ran nodded sympathetically. "Take care of yourself, too. You can always call me to talk."

"Thanks." Kazuha gripped Ran's hand gratefully.

Kazuha blinked as a thought occurred to her. "I've been sick lately, though," she said as though it was the strangest thing in the world (and it was for her, considering her lifestyle of volunteer aikido coach, part-time therapist, and part-time motorcycle repairman. She made good money and kept herself fit and healthy.) "Not just a cold, but I've thrown up for no reason about four times this last week. And it's only in the morning, too. I'm fine by noon or so. It's only been going on for a few days," she puzzled. "I just feel off and I have no idea why."

She looked up at Ran. "Any ideas?"

Ran shook her head, suppressing a smile. "Nope," she lied.

Of course Ran knew. She'd felt the same way about three years ago when she was pregnant with her daughter.

She'd let Kazuha figure it out, though.