Hell Hath No Fury

Four Hundred Winks

catch forty winks: get a short nap. Shinichi was out for a fortnight so yeah, not a short nap
(picking up where Road to Hell ended...)
(⌐▨_・)ﾂθ☆●

Shinichi froze like a deer in headlights, the color draining from his face. The last thing he remembered was passing out, a shout, and something else that just wouldn't come to mind. But why did Kazuha know? His heart racing, adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins, he threw himself into Conan's role. "Kazuha-neechan, what are you talking about? Shinichi-niichan didn't come with us on this camping trip."

Kazuha gave him a quizzical look. "Shinichi-kun, we're at Heiji's house. What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

It was his turn to be confused. Why would they be at Hattori's? What happened to the camping trip? Kazuha might be trying to get information out of him, trying to catch him off-guard. Or maybe she was testing him, making sure that he was still intelligent. Either option was disconcerting. "Why do you keep calling me Shinichi-niichan's name? Why am I at Heiji-niichan's house? Where's Ran-neechan? I want Ran-neechan," he whined, pulling out the scared-and-confused card. Until he could gather more information, playing innocent and immature seemed the best course of action.

It was an embarrassing but necessary ploy. Shinichi knew nothing here. This room looked like it was in Hattori's house, now that Kazuha mentioned it, but he didn't recognize this room. The clouds out the window implied he was at least on the second floor, and the stale air meant a rarely used room. Bare-bones and bland, the furniture felt like a temporary installment, and faded paint on the walls pointed to piles of boxes. Dim lighting came from a single bulb overhead, a chain dangling from it. This room was once a storage room on a higher floor, but it had since been cleared out.

"She ain't here, but—" Shinichi changed his breathing to hiccuping, frantic bursts, fake tears welling in his eyes. Kazuha pursed her lips, looked around for something, and her eyes landed on the door. "Here. I'll go get Heiji." She rose to her feet, started out the door. "Ya stay here. I'll be right back, Shi— er, Conan-kun." Shinichi sniffed like he was about to cry, keeping the mask of Conan up until he was sure she was gone.

"Now, what in the world happened to me?" he murmured to himself. He knew Conan's body and could remember what it felt like to be at Shinichi's full height. Right now, he was neither of them. His arms were too thin, and he knew just by the feel of them that his legs didn't have any substance, either. He was taller by at least a few inches, maybe more. And was that a voice crack earlier?

"I need a mirror," he said to no one in particular. There it was. His voice had deepened, but not to Shinichi's voice yet. He could still reach Conan's tone of voice by using his nothing-to-see-here-I'm-just-a-kid voice, and he almost sounded like Shinichi if he dropped his voice just a little. Just to be safe, though, he should use his bowtie to make any calls.

Speaking of his gadgets, his watch wasn't on his wrist. Where it should've been were a few red dots, healed over days ago. Injection points.

Pulse racing again, he examined the injection sites for infection. They were clean, precise. No one would notice them as soon as he put on his watch. In fact, Shinichi himself wouldn't have noticed them if someone hadn't had the idea to take off his watch while he was out. He never took off his watch. Maybe when he bathed, but even then it was within arm's reach.

Absentmindedly noting the fact that he was wearing a very large shirt that was not his own, Shinichi threw off the covers and began searching his body for other injection sites. He found two on each thigh, three on his right shoulder and two on his left. With thirteen total, Shinichi could only wonder with dread what had been put into him.