@dynxmism
Even in this strange, new world people were treating him like a child. Not that this surprised Shinichi Conan in the slightest, but it didn’t make it any less irritating. Here he was, trying to get information about where he was, but most of what he got was some cheek pinching, baby-talk, and tiny bits of information. There were the odd bits of information about Spirals Tower and having a partner, and then some mutterings about someone else asking the exact same questions.
So far he had gathered these clues about that said person; dark-skinned, had a thick accent (he asked if it was Osakan, but most people didn’t seem to know what that was), wore a baseball cap, and seemed to be in his teens.
“But… that’s impossible.”
Of course, memories of his best friend, Hattori, came flooding back to him. It was impossible not to think about him with that information. It described him perfectly. This was an impossibility though. An event that could not come to fruition. Maybe a few months ago, but not anymore.
It still weighed heavy on Conan. The death of his friend.
It didn’t take Conan long to be next to him, grabbing onto the back of his shirt like the needy child he truly was at this moment. It would have been better if he could just grab his shoulder and force his attention towards him, but he was much too short for that and all gratefulness for his size was gone. Conan could just barely see it from this angle, but those features… it had to be him!
“H-Hattori…?” He had to make sure. Was it really him? “How… are you…?”
