The Dead Donât Cry
Guess whoâs just started The Walking Dead? (;-_-)/ And guess what this isâwell y'all got it right, itâs a zombie!au fic! I will apologize for the things I write here, but I am not sorry for being lured into zombie!au D:
Fandom: Detective Conan/DCMK Pairing: Shinichi/Ran Rating: PG-13 Genre/Tags: Tragedy, Angst, Horror, Zombie!AU Warning: Character Death Summary: He still thinks sheâs as beautiful as ever. She is still the one to brush the hair out of his eyes when theyâre about to go to sleep to dream of their previous lives.
â˘
Itâs been very quiet.
Ran is quiet. Sheâs been quiet for about a week now.
Shinichi is used to the absence of humanly sound outside, save for the constant noises from the zombies that serves as a reminder that their world out there has been left for the dead to roam.
But thatâs okay because he knows Ran is still there. All he has to do is cheer her up. Heâs just waiting for her to wake up from her beautiful slumber. And when sheâs up and about, heâll have a scrumptious plate of breakfast for her to start the day well.
âSmells delicious. Absolutely delectable,â Ran praises dreamily, walking into the dining room and taking in a whiff or three. There she is, Shinichi grins.
When she proceeds to feast on the food he prepared, Shinichi whips out his faithful shotgun and sets it on the table, just in case.
These days, he trusts his shotgun more than anything. Heâll survive as long as he has it with himâand his girlfriend, his childhood friend, the only person heâd give anything up for. It hurts to think that their tomorrows have been stolen, that they have to grow old without their family and friends, if they even survive this. But this is after, not before. And even though it hurts, itâs for the best that Shinichi learns to keep his finger steady on the trigger.
âMaybe you can do more cooking from now on,â Ran jokes light-heartedly, because she knows he doesnât like to cook, nor is he good at it. He only does it today because Ran has fallen so deep in her sleep. She doesnât get much sleep nowadays, nor does he, not with the nightmares that lace even the brightest of their dark nights. So when he sees her sleeping so peacefully, how dare he wake her?
âIâll do my best,â Shinichi says earnestly, extending his left hand to intertwine it with hers. If it makes her happy, heâll do it. Thereâs nothing much that can cheer her up nowadays.
All heâs been trying to do is to make her smile. And itâs strange because Ran looks like sheâs about to cry, her eyes foggy and her mouth twisting into a protest.Â
The dead donât cry. Their bodily functions, like tear production and activation of the visceral motive system, stop working. Thatâs what being dead means.
But not Ran. Sheâs not dead. Sheâs very much here, and Shinichi is grateful that heâs still able to feel the warmth seeping from her presence.
Itâs hope that will end up killing him. Heâs sure of it. At night he counts his blessings carefully, however little he has left, pocketing his hopes of keeping Ranâs dissolving remnants of humanity and sanity intact. So far, someone or something up there is listening to him. But for what price?
He stands up to collect their dishes and silverware to be washed, but not before slinging his shotgun back around his shoulder. After he turns around, he hears her. âShinichi, you wouldnât really shoot me, would you?â
He pauses in his steps. The question weighs heavily on his blood-stained palms.
Would he? Does he have to? Can he?
âYou know I canât.â
Even if Shinichi no longer believes in anything, he believes in Ran.Â
âI know, but I want you to,â She whispers so quietly that he almost mistakes it for a breathy exhale.
Is he hearing her correctly? After all, his ears have been ringing since the last time he fired his shotgun at a herd of those monsters.
âYou know you have to,â Ran presses on. Her eyes are shining with sincerity. If Shinichi is no longer certain about anything, this conversation makes him certain of one thing.Â
And the words ring so violently until his heart threatens to shatter along with his composure. The last thing in this entire apocalyptic world that he can control.
He yells, âStop the nonsense, Ran. Why are you saying all these?â He can feel his heart beating so fast against his ribcage that it hurts.Â
They both know the answer already, but theyâre reading the lines of their script because this is what Shinichi needsâclosure. This is their arabesque melting into a finale.
âIâm scared.â
He hears her whimper. My God, Shinichi realizes with a thump. Of all the things in the world that sheâs scared of, Shinichi never wants to be one. He drops his shotgun to the floor, so now Ran has nothing to be afraid of. He thinks Ran doesnât seem to notice anymore, but maybe she does, because she picks it up and slings it on her shoulder with much ease.Â
âZero rate of survival, right? Thatâs what you told me. I donât want to be one of them.â Her fingernails dug their way into her own arms, sinking into the flesh. Shinichi feels lightheaded at the sight of her sputtering blood. He makes his way back to the table to halt her movements before she injures herself even further. She stops him in place with the shotgun pointing at him. âIâm already becoming violent, Shinichi. Canât you see that Iâm turning?â
No, Shinichi wants to say. He still thinks sheâs as beautiful as ever. Even though Ran may have dark red sclera encircling her foggy irises and pasty mottled skin, and purplish, blood-caked fingernails, she is still the one to brush the hair out of his eyes when theyâre about to go to sleep to dream of their previous lives.
Contrary to her words, Ranâs cloudy eyes brighten, and she becomes increasingly more animated.
She continues, blood dribbling from her arms, dripping and staining the ivory carpet. Shinichi is momentarily distracted. He remembers his mother reprimanding him for almost spilling his juice on her newly-bought carpet, but that was years ago. Still, nothing but good memories here.
âYou have to end this, Shinichi, before you plead with me to stop. Before you beg me to stop. Before I have flies following me around in swarms and maggots squirming in my ears.â Ran stands up, body violently jerking with her every word.
âI donât want to be the one who tears you apart!â She shouts pleadingly. Itâs ironic, because every part of him has already been ripped into pieces anyway. âI donât want your last memories of me to be the me who can barely speak other than with gurgles. Not when I wonât even be able to see you.â
When Ran pulls the trigger, a loud bang erupts, and everything around Shinichi is muffled. Even Ranâs face is muffled, a burst of red distorting what had once been gentle eyes, jawline kissed with maroon butterflies.
As he bends down to clean her face, (Ran has always been a neat person, Shinichi clicks his tongue), he wonders how she could have decayed so much suddenly. He cleans the barrel of his shotgun and tries to recall when Ranâs eyes stopped shining and turned frosty. But Shinichi must remind himself:
Ran is dead. Sheâs been dead for about a week now.
AO3 / FFN

















