After a duration, the limousine finally arrived at the Mouri Detective Agency, gliding to a seamless halt directly before the edifice. The chauffeur prepared to dismount, but a melodic voice intervened.
"It is quite alright, sir. We can facilitate our own exit," Ran Mouri said placidly as she slid the door open. She stepped onto the pavement gracefully, followed by Conan Edogawa.
Conan hoisted his small hand, waving toward the departing vehicle. "Gratitude for the transport!" he chirped.
Ran followed suit, securing the door with meticulous care before offering a refined nod. "Thank you for the lift, Sonoko."
"Oh, pish posh, no need for such formalities," Sonoko Suzuki rejoined casually, waving her hand with typical dismissiveness.
Ran then pivoted her attention to Leon, who had maintained his characteristic, inscrutable stasis throughout the transit. A soft smile curved her lips. "Well then… farewell, Leon-kun. It was a pleasure to encounter you."
Leon offered a minuscule nod in reciprocation, his voice reedy and level. "Farewell…"
Ran and Conan watched with faint smiles as the limousine gradually accelerated and dissolved into the twilight of the street.
After a fleeting silence, Ran mused, "So that is the younger brother Sonoko perpetually mentions."
Conan, who had already synthesized fragments of information regarding the Suzuki lineage back when he was still the high school detective Shinichi Kudo, quietly processed the data. It required little intellectual labor to deduce Leon's identity. Still… he had not anticipated that Sonoko's hyperbolic descriptions would be so surgically accurate.
A "snow fairy"… that was her favored epithet for him. And somehow, it resonated.
Ran glanced down at the boy beside her. "Quite an eccentric child, wouldn't you agree?"
"W-well… yes, a singularly peculiar kid… hehe…" Conan replied awkwardly, sidestepping the topic as he scurried toward the staircase leading to their second-floor residence.
Ran followed in contemplation, but her thoughts performed a slow orbit… circling back to the cryptic words Leon had uttered earlier.
Inside the limousine, Sonoko shifted her focus toward Leon, her habitual facetiousness replaced by a softer, more protective cadence.
"Leon… what were the mandates Father and Mother issued before permitting your excursion?"
Leon took a measured sip from his vessel before answering. "Well… this is a foreign environment. I harbored a desire to perceive something novel."
Sonoko's gaze softened. She was intimately aware of the chronicles of his isolation—years of sequestered living for the sake of his precarious health. This was a metamorphosis for him. Encountering the world, experiencing the atmosphere—it was a liberty she could not find the heart to deny him.
Exhaling a weary sigh, she shook her head, pressing her digits against her brow in a gesture of fond defeat. She looked at him once more. Leon sat in repose, his gaze welded to the tinted window, watching the kaleidoscope of the outside world flicker past.
Without hesitation, Sonoko leaned across the seat and enveloped him in a maternal embrace. Her hand migrated to his head, softly patting the crown, her fingers idly dancing with the white tresses styled into pristine buns.
"Leon… do you crave chocolate? I shall concoct some for you later."
Leon pivoted slightly toward her, offering a faint nod. "Chocolate? Nee-san… might I participate in the preparation?"
Sonoko blinked, then radiated a warm smile. "Naturally. We shall forge them together." She paused, adding with a mischievous glint, "So… to whom do you intend to bestow your confections?"
Leon elevated his fingers one by one, conducting a silent census. "Grandpa… Dad… Mom… Elder sister… and Nee-san…"
Sonoko froze for a heartbeat—then—
"HOW ADORABLE—!!"
She constricted her embrace, practically crushing him as she nuzzled against him with unrestrained affection.
And just like that, the limousine continued its transit toward the Beika Ward, where the palatial Suzuki estate loomed.
Later that night, within the grand Suzuki Mansion, the kitchen resembled a state-of-the-art culinary laboratory. Stainless steel surfaces scintillated under the recessed lighting, and every implement was arranged with surgical precision.
Leon and Sonoko stood in tandem, both draped in ivory aprons, meticulously tempering chocolate. A quartet of maids stood vigil in the periphery, observing as the siblings infused the sweets with their own bespoke flavors.
Simultaneously, at the Mouri Detective Agency, Ran stood over the stove, gently agitating a pool of molten chocolate while Conan observed from the shadows.
"What is your objective, Ran-neechan?" Conan queried with feigned innocence.
"Hmm… nothing of consequence," Ran replied, her tone casual yet guarded.
Conan leaned in, his nostrils twitching. "The air is saturated with the scent of cocoa…"
Ran smiled enigmatically. "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, after all."
Conan's eyes dilated. "Huh?! Do you possess a recipient for such a gift?!"
Ran looked down at him, a flicker of annoyance in her azure eyes. "How impertinent. Why else would I endure the labor of hand-crafted chocolate if I lacked a designated target?"
Conan smirked inwardly. *Oh… precisely. Who can say… perhaps Shinichi-niichan might miraculously manifest.*
Ran suddenly went rigid.
"…Shinichi?" she repeated softly.
Then, with an air of haunting detachment—
"Now that I reflect upon it… there was a fellow by that moniker…"
Conan lost his footing, stumbling across the linoleum. "Oy… oy…"
Night descended, and with the sunrise came Valentine's Day. The portents Leon had whispered had retreated to the recesses of their minds, yet by the following sunset, the weight of his words would become undeniable.
Finally, the anticipated day arrived.
Leon stirred from his slumber and cast a tranquil gaze across the expanse of his quarters. A window occupied the far-left periphery, while his bed was situated on the right, retreatingly distanced from the glare. The entire interior exuded a serene, glacial atmosphere. The walls were saturated in the pristine hue of snow, embellished with intricate reliefs that mimicked cascading snowflakes descending gently from a conceptual sky.
The furnishings within Leon's sanctuary were minimalist—austere yet exceedingly refined. A translucent crystal desk stood near the center, paired with a matching crystalline chair. An array of pens was marshaled with meticulous order upon the surface alongside a sketchbook. Within its leaves lay an embryonic illustration—a faint silhouette of a woman, her form still nebulous and incomplete.
In the corner of the chamber stood a cavernous wardrobe, nearly as expansive as the room itself. Along one snow-white partition, twenty-four canvases were exhibited horizontally in a precise, rhythmic arrangement. Each piece was a masterwork birthed by Leon's hand. The techniques varied profoundly, as though every painting had been executed by entirely different maestros.
Yet, that was a fallacy.
Every solitary piece had been rendered patiently, vividly, and with surgical precision by Leon alone—summoned into existence through the reservoir of his imagination and his own dextrous hands. The paintings were marshaled in structured columns, presenting a breathtaking and labyrinthine exhibition of his creative prowess.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤