Detective Conan: The Road To Hell

Blood of the Covenant

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."
Yeah, I didn't know there was more to that saying for a while, either.

‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)-̳͟͞͞o

A knock on the door aroused a large man from his thoughts. Rising to his feet, Hattori Heizo scowled as he marched to the door. He had not yet gotten over the last visitor Heiji had brought home. He was not enthusiastic about meeting another one of those kids.

To his great relief and surprise, Heizo opened the door to a vaguely familiar face. The name on the tip of his tongue, Heizo briefly wondered where he knew the man from. He wasn't one of Heiji's teachers, nor was he a subordinate in the prefecture. He wasn't the parent of any of Heiji's friends. Heiji didn't have many friends, so Heizo knew each of their parents personally. The more he thought about it, the more unfamiliar the man before him became.

His black hair messy, standing up all directions as though he'd run his hands through it in frustration multiple times. His face resembled that of a raccoon's: dark bags under his eyes, an unkept jungle of a beard sprouting up along his chin. Worry lines like war trenches ran across his forehead. Sweat stain shades darker than his suit that smelled days old creeped out from his armpits, his cheap undershirt stained with various substances Heizo knew would be best left unidentified.

"Are you Hattori-san?" Accusing and confrontational, his voice raspy and hoarse as if he'd shouted for hours, his eyes blazing as though he was prepared to do it again.

Heizo did not fail to notice the stance this stranger took. Feet perfectly spaced, poised to whip out a weapon at any moment. If there had been a bulge in the stranger's coat, Heizo's hand would've flown to his holster in self-defense; however, the stance was slightly off. The stranger almost imperceptibly swayed forwards and backwards, his fatigue evident in his trembling muscles. He tried in vain to keep himself steady, firm, intimidating.

Every initial instinct screamed at Heizo to close the door, lock it, and get some officers to his house to arrest this unstable and potentially dangerous man. Heizo hesitated, letting his hand leave the door. While he was not as observant or perceptive as his son, Heizo knew the look of a desperate father when he saw one.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?"

"Mouri Kogoro," said the stranger.

"Come inside, Mouri-san. You look tired." Heizo stood back to let Kogoro inside, suddenly recognizing Nemure-no-Kogoro.

Kogoro opened his mouth to protest. The biting words died in his throat, however, as a large yawn cut him off. He went red, scowled. "Excuse me."

A small, understanding smile. "Come. My wife makes excellent tea. Shizu? We have a guest." Heizo led Kogoro inside, a hand on his back to guide him.

Kogoro's steps were hesitant, unsure, stumbling at times. Heizo let a flash of concern crossed his conscience. How long had Kogoro been out and about? At least the day by the smell of him, presumably more if the scraggly beard was anything to go by.

"Mint tea or chamomile?" Shizuka's voice traveled down the stairs and she descended.

Heizo said "mint" at the same time Kogoro muttered "chamomile." Shizuka took one look at Kogoro as her husband said him in a chair. Kogoro met her eyes, but he didn't raise a finger to attempt to flirt with her.

"Mint it is."

As Shizuka prepared tea in the other room, Heizo sat across from Kogoro. "Mouri-san. I don't believe we've officially met b'fore."