Post by Ran-dezvous on Mar 5, 2017 21:35:26 GMT
Title: The Devil's Advocates
Author: Ran-dezvous
Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort, General
Fandom: Detective Conan
Character: Tsuburaya Mitsuhiko, Tsuburaya Asami, and Satan Onizuka (doesn't appear in the fic, but he is the actual subject of the story)
Word Count: 1,110
Rating: K+/PG
Original Publish Date: March 6, 2017 (because time zones)
Disclaimer: Aoyama Gosho owns the rights to <i>Detective Conan,</i> but he's cool with fans writing fanfiction, yay!
Notes: Set after Files 591-593 (Volume 57, Files 5-7)/Episode 488 ("The Devil of the TV Station").
Summary: After the Satan Onizuka case, Mitsuhiko comes home and sees his sister isn't taking the news very well.
Like many other fans, Asami had longed for the day that Styx III would become the darling of the media once again, but not like this. This was no comeback; Satan Onizuka had really become the devil and killed someone.
The fact she had admired an actual devil made her queasy. Unlike most other fans, she didn't really believe nor care for the devil gimmick he and his band had going on. What was important to her was the music, the soulful rock music that had guided and consoled her during the awkward time that was middle school and puberty. She knew, deep in her heart, that despite the lead vocalist's devil act, there was no way that someone, who could write such beautiful lyrics, could be truly evil like the devil.
It seemed she was wrong, after all. While she had known several celebrities who had fallen from grace because of drug abuse, this was the first time, as far as she knew, that a celebrity had been arrested for murder—and it just had to be the lead singer of her favorite band.
She heaved a deep sigh. Today was a terrible day.
The door to their house creaked open, bringing along with it the usual obligatory statement of "I'm home." She didn't even need to look to figure out who it was. Unlike their parents and herself, these words, when said by her little brother, wasn't as perfunctory and a lot more genuine. It was youthful and boyish, and it truly felt like he was glad to be home, despite whatever colorful adventure he had that day. Oh, the carefree days of childhood, indeed.
The first thing that greeted Mitsuhiko was his sister's lifeless "Welcome home, Mit-chan." Her eyes were glazed, transfixed at the TV screen, while a glum frown was painted on her lips. She was hunched over, and her head was cupped by both of her hands. He could hear the name Satan Onizuka repeatedly.
While the expedient delivery of that certain piece of news was nothing to be surprised about, he hadn't been prepared for the possibility that she'd already know about it by the time he got home. What's worse, he never really anticipated she'd be that upset; he'd been so distraught by the circumstances and motive for the actual murder, that he failed to consider his sister's feelings.
With Satan-san's autograph still in his possession, he slowly approached her and sat on the empty green cushion to her left. "Sister, I got you Satan-san's autograph," he said, gingerly placing the aforementioned object on the wooden table in front of them.
She pushed the card away, toward her brother. "I don't want it anymore, Mit-chan."
He could only stare at Satan-san's handwriting as she cradled her face once more with her hands and returned her focus to the TV screen.
An awkward silence dominated the room as she flipped from one station to the next, devouring whatever coverage the Satan Onizuka scandal had. Her newfound focus amazed the little boy; even her favorite shows couldn't stop her from sending e-mails or chatting or posting on social-networking sites while the program was still going on. Right now, however, the only time she would use her phone was during the commercial break, most likely to read whatever posts and articles existed on the matter, he figured.
He kept stealing glances at his sister, who heaved a heavy sigh every other sentence. He had absolutely no idea what to say to her; he couldn't fathom what it was like to have someone he idolized turn out not to be what he thought, let alone commit murder.
For the first time in his life, he felt really lost. He felt even more lost than when baffled with the most mysterious of cases, when even Conan-kun himself couldn't figure out what to do; or the time he realized he may have been harboring crushes on two girls at the same time.
And, thus, like his sister, he found himself sighing. If their parents were here and not out chaperoning a field trip, what would they do?
Minutes soon turned into an hour, which then elapsed into two, then three. Soon enough, it was evening, and he found his stomach grumbling. His sister, however, didn't seem like she was interested in eating at all. "You can go ahead and eat dinner, if you like. You know how to heat up the curry Mother made, right?"
"Yes, Sister. I'll be right back."
Twenty minutes later, he came back with a tray carrying two piping-hot bowls of curry rice. "You're probably not hungry, I know, but Mother and Father wouldn't like it if you skipped meals." He placed a bowl in front of her.
"Hey, Mit-chan."
The little boy's ears perked up. He'd long held a belief that curry had the power to make people feel better, and his sister's words only cemented his belief even further.
"Is it bad that, despite what Satan-san has done, I'm still a fan of him? That I get hurt everyone every time he's talked about in the news and all those celebrity programs and magazines, even though I know fully well that what he did was wrong?"
"Um" was all he mutter, eyes glancing at the card on the table, his hands firmly grasping his kneecaps. He'd never been in the position to give serious advice before, let alone give advice to someone older than him. He wasn't prepared for this kind of role switch. Big sisters were supposed to give advice to their kid brothers, not the other way around. "I don't know, Sister. I honestly don't know. But, despite what he's done, I don't think he's a completely bad person. . . . I mean, I know it's never right to take another person's life no matter what, but he really did strike me as someone who cared a lot about his fans. . . ."
"What do you mean, Mit-chan?"
"Well, we were actually around during the investigation. . . ."
"I should've known." She gave a wry smile. "You guys always get yourselves into a case of some sort, especially murder. So, what happened?"
"I don't know why it's not mentioned in the news, but Satan-san said he wanted to stop the real demon, Urushibara-san. He wanted to avenge a fan of his who committed suicide. Three years ago, when Satan-san hurt his throat during a tour and was hospitalized, Urushibara-san had pretended to be the latter and said the only way to restore his demonic powers was through a human sacrifice. That fan of his took him seriously."
I normally have such a difficult time making the minimum word count (which's why I've never submitted an entry before), so I'm quite surprised and delighted this fic's turning out to be longer than I thought. For now, however, I'll just stop here as I've already made the maximum word count. There's isn't much—for now—before the fic ends, but I haven't been feeling well the past weekend, and I don't really have to energy to muck around and trim off excess words without sounding too awkward or ruining the flow of the story, not to mention there isn't a lot of time left before the deadline. Sorry if I've stopped at an awkward place. *is shot* I've seen others do this before, so I'll just follow suit and post the continuation—that is, if my muse doesn't die on me—after the contest ends.
Any constructive criticism is always welcome.
Author: Ran-dezvous
Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort, General
Fandom: Detective Conan
Character: Tsuburaya Mitsuhiko, Tsuburaya Asami, and Satan Onizuka (doesn't appear in the fic, but he is the actual subject of the story)
Word Count: 1,110
Rating: K+/PG
Original Publish Date: March 6, 2017 (because time zones)
Disclaimer: Aoyama Gosho owns the rights to <i>Detective Conan,</i> but he's cool with fans writing fanfiction, yay!
Notes: Set after Files 591-593 (Volume 57, Files 5-7)/Episode 488 ("The Devil of the TV Station").
Summary: After the Satan Onizuka case, Mitsuhiko comes home and sees his sister isn't taking the news very well.
Like many other fans, Asami had longed for the day that Styx III would become the darling of the media once again, but not like this. This was no comeback; Satan Onizuka had really become the devil and killed someone.
The fact she had admired an actual devil made her queasy. Unlike most other fans, she didn't really believe nor care for the devil gimmick he and his band had going on. What was important to her was the music, the soulful rock music that had guided and consoled her during the awkward time that was middle school and puberty. She knew, deep in her heart, that despite the lead vocalist's devil act, there was no way that someone, who could write such beautiful lyrics, could be truly evil like the devil.
It seemed she was wrong, after all. While she had known several celebrities who had fallen from grace because of drug abuse, this was the first time, as far as she knew, that a celebrity had been arrested for murder—and it just had to be the lead singer of her favorite band.
She heaved a deep sigh. Today was a terrible day.
The door to their house creaked open, bringing along with it the usual obligatory statement of "I'm home." She didn't even need to look to figure out who it was. Unlike their parents and herself, these words, when said by her little brother, wasn't as perfunctory and a lot more genuine. It was youthful and boyish, and it truly felt like he was glad to be home, despite whatever colorful adventure he had that day. Oh, the carefree days of childhood, indeed.
-
The first thing that greeted Mitsuhiko was his sister's lifeless "Welcome home, Mit-chan." Her eyes were glazed, transfixed at the TV screen, while a glum frown was painted on her lips. She was hunched over, and her head was cupped by both of her hands. He could hear the name Satan Onizuka repeatedly.
While the expedient delivery of that certain piece of news was nothing to be surprised about, he hadn't been prepared for the possibility that she'd already know about it by the time he got home. What's worse, he never really anticipated she'd be that upset; he'd been so distraught by the circumstances and motive for the actual murder, that he failed to consider his sister's feelings.
With Satan-san's autograph still in his possession, he slowly approached her and sat on the empty green cushion to her left. "Sister, I got you Satan-san's autograph," he said, gingerly placing the aforementioned object on the wooden table in front of them.
She pushed the card away, toward her brother. "I don't want it anymore, Mit-chan."
He could only stare at Satan-san's handwriting as she cradled her face once more with her hands and returned her focus to the TV screen.
An awkward silence dominated the room as she flipped from one station to the next, devouring whatever coverage the Satan Onizuka scandal had. Her newfound focus amazed the little boy; even her favorite shows couldn't stop her from sending e-mails or chatting or posting on social-networking sites while the program was still going on. Right now, however, the only time she would use her phone was during the commercial break, most likely to read whatever posts and articles existed on the matter, he figured.
He kept stealing glances at his sister, who heaved a heavy sigh every other sentence. He had absolutely no idea what to say to her; he couldn't fathom what it was like to have someone he idolized turn out not to be what he thought, let alone commit murder.
For the first time in his life, he felt really lost. He felt even more lost than when baffled with the most mysterious of cases, when even Conan-kun himself couldn't figure out what to do; or the time he realized he may have been harboring crushes on two girls at the same time.
And, thus, like his sister, he found himself sighing. If their parents were here and not out chaperoning a field trip, what would they do?
-
Minutes soon turned into an hour, which then elapsed into two, then three. Soon enough, it was evening, and he found his stomach grumbling. His sister, however, didn't seem like she was interested in eating at all. "You can go ahead and eat dinner, if you like. You know how to heat up the curry Mother made, right?"
"Yes, Sister. I'll be right back."
Twenty minutes later, he came back with a tray carrying two piping-hot bowls of curry rice. "You're probably not hungry, I know, but Mother and Father wouldn't like it if you skipped meals." He placed a bowl in front of her.
"Hey, Mit-chan."
The little boy's ears perked up. He'd long held a belief that curry had the power to make people feel better, and his sister's words only cemented his belief even further.
"Is it bad that, despite what Satan-san has done, I'm still a fan of him? That I get hurt everyone every time he's talked about in the news and all those celebrity programs and magazines, even though I know fully well that what he did was wrong?"
"Um" was all he mutter, eyes glancing at the card on the table, his hands firmly grasping his kneecaps. He'd never been in the position to give serious advice before, let alone give advice to someone older than him. He wasn't prepared for this kind of role switch. Big sisters were supposed to give advice to their kid brothers, not the other way around. "I don't know, Sister. I honestly don't know. But, despite what he's done, I don't think he's a completely bad person. . . . I mean, I know it's never right to take another person's life no matter what, but he really did strike me as someone who cared a lot about his fans. . . ."
"What do you mean, Mit-chan?"
"Well, we were actually around during the investigation. . . ."
"I should've known." She gave a wry smile. "You guys always get yourselves into a case of some sort, especially murder. So, what happened?"
"I don't know why it's not mentioned in the news, but Satan-san said he wanted to stop the real demon, Urushibara-san. He wanted to avenge a fan of his who committed suicide. Three years ago, when Satan-san hurt his throat during a tour and was hospitalized, Urushibara-san had pretended to be the latter and said the only way to restore his demonic powers was through a human sacrifice. That fan of his took him seriously."
I normally have such a difficult time making the minimum word count (which's why I've never submitted an entry before), so I'm quite surprised and delighted this fic's turning out to be longer than I thought. For now, however, I'll just stop here as I've already made the maximum word count. There's isn't much—for now—before the fic ends, but I haven't been feeling well the past weekend, and I don't really have to energy to muck around and trim off excess words without sounding too awkward or ruining the flow of the story, not to mention there isn't a lot of time left before the deadline. Sorry if I've stopped at an awkward place. *is shot* I've seen others do this before, so I'll just follow suit and post the continuation—that is, if my muse doesn't die on me—after the contest ends.
Any constructive criticism is always welcome.