Valentine Gala: Sweet's are ain't good. Part 2
The Valentine festivities progressed, and as the minutes bled away, Ran eventually detected Conan's presence lurking behind a manicured bush. Simultaneously, Minagawa's mother extended a gracious invitation for Conan to join the inner circle.
Shortly thereafter, at the banquet table within the parlor, an array of culinary delights had been systematically arranged. Minagawa's mother emerged with the centerpiece and deposited it upon the table.
"I appreciate your patience. Here is the primary course," she remarked, her smile radiating a gentle warmth.
"Ah… my profound gratitude, Mrs. Minagawa," Wakamatsu stammered, awkwardly massaging the nape of his neck.
"What? You are Minagawa-san's progenitor? Your appearance is remarkably youthful!" Sonoko ejaculated in sheer astonishment, gaping at the elegant woman orchestrating the service.
"My… you certainly possess a talent for flattery," Mrs. Minagawa demurely replied, obscuring her mouth with a delicate hand as she beamed.
At that juncture, a small child drifted toward Conan and Ran, who were ensconced upon the sofa.
"Hey… shall we play together?" the boy queried.
Ran and Conan pivoted to see a young lad with a distinctive flat-top haircut standing before them.
Minagawa noted the intrusion and interjected immediately, "Susumu, retreat to your chambers. You are disturbing the festivities."
Susumu pouted in response to the reprimand, his dissatisfaction plain to see.
Ran offered a tender smile. "Heh… so you are Minagawa-san's younger brother? How enchanting…"
"But he pales in comparison to the enchantment of my Leon," Sonoko interjected without a second's hesitation.
Ran turned toward her. "What an absolute brother-worshiper…"
Sonoko scoffed softly, folding her arms across her chest; however, a faint, triumphant smile played upon her lips, silently acknowledging the truth in Ran's assessment.
Witnessing the reaction, Ran let out a quiet, melodic chuckle.
Meanwhile, Conan scrutinized the gathered collective with clinical precision. He was laboring to ascertain the target of Ran's affection. As he dissected the room, he observed the red-shirted, gorilla-like brute—Wakamatsu—casting incessant, longing glances toward Ran.
None of the souls congregated there possessed the slightest inkling—
That one among them was marked for death.
And that Ran, Sonoko, and Conan would finally grasp the grim, undeniable weight behind the prophecy Leon had uttered.
The Valentine festivities persisted, the assembly surrendering to the lavish banquet until the long-anticipated interval for the exchange of confections finally dawned. Katsuhiko Minagawa, the charismatic host, rose from his seat with an air of casual elegance and navigated his way toward the lavatory.
Ran Mouri, noting his departure, leaned toward Sonoko Suzuki. "Sonoko… do you not intend to pursue him and bestow your chocolate?" she queried in a hushed tone.
Sonoko merely offered a knowing smile, her expression radiating a calm, predatory cunning. "Negative… that is not the agenda."
Ran's brow knit in a slight frown. "Then what was the purpose of our attendance? Yesterday, you were the one vibrating with fervor… yet it appears you were merely orchestrating another charade."
Sonoko smirked, her irises narrowing with a glint of pure mischief. "Naturally… I ventured here to witness the spectacle of you presenting your chocolates to that Wakamatsu brute."
"What?!" Ran ejaculated, visibly jolted. "What do you imply? Why on earth would I grant him chocolate?"
Sonoko's eyes dilated in a display of hyperbolic incredulity. "Eh— Ran, do you truly harbor no interest in the man?"
"Huh?! Why would such a notion even cross your mind?" Ran retorted instantaneously.
"Well, it is because you two were immersed in dialogue when we first encountered them," Sonoko elucidated, folding her arms over her chest. "That is precisely why I consented to come—I yearned to see if you would actually deliver the sweets. I surmised you were merely being reticent… you solitary, pining girl."
"What dialogue? When did such an interaction even transpire?" Ran protested vehemently. "Furthermore, he was the one inundating me with a non-stop barrage of inquiries!"
Sonoko blinked, momentarily destabilized. "Wait… did I truly misread the situation so egregiously?" she muttered beneath her breath.
"Unquestionably," Ran replied with blunt finality.
Nearby, Conan had been a silent sentinel, absorbing every syllable of their discourse with focused intensity.
Meanwhile, Minagawa emerged from the lavatory, only to be intercepted by Kaori, the woman in denim. She hesitated for a fleeting heartbeat before summoning her fortitude and proffering a box of chocolate.
To her profound desolation, Minagawa executed a gentle rebuff. He informed her with chilling clarity that she was regarded merely as a companion—and that was the extent of his reciprocity.
Kaori went rigid for a second before casting her gaze to the floor. "I perceive the truth now… so your affections truly reside with Yoshimi," she whispered.
The epiphany was crushing. As his childhood associate, she understood precisely why he favored Yoshimi above the rest of the circle. With a faint, tragic nod, she accepted the repudiation and retreated into the shadows, a figure of silent, vanquished defeat.
Minagawa monitored her retreating silhouette, his gaze lingering for a poignant moment before he averted his eyes.
Back within the parlor, the remainder of the troupe persisted in their chatter. Then, Wakamatsu—the simian-like titan—finally orchestrated his gambit. He slid across the upholstery toward Ran, encroaching upon her personal space with palpable trepidation.
"Yosh… this is my ultimate opportunity…" he grumbled under his breath.
Lidding his eyes, his rugged visage flushed a deep, arterial crimson. Slowly, with agonizing hesitation, he extended his right hand toward Ran's, intending to seize it in a romantic gesture.
However, Conan Edogawa had been scrutinizing his every gesture. Just before Wakamatsu's digits could make contact with Ran's skin, Conan thrust his own hand into the trajectory.
Wakamatsu gripped it without a second's thought.
"…How remarkably supple…" he murmured, utterly oblivious to the switch.
"What an exquisite hand… I—I…" he stammered, his courage peaking at a fever pitch. Then, incapable of restraining his passion any longer, he bellowed, "Ran-san!" as he jerked the hand toward his face.
Due to Conan's diminutive stature and negligible mass, he was catapulted forward—hoisted directly toward Wakamatsu's puckered, expectant lips.
Wakamatsu maintained a tight seal on his eyelids, completely unaware of the reality. But Conan witnessed the horror in its entirety—the looming, craggy face, the lips constricting for the strike.
Then, the collision occurred.
Their lips met in a grotesque union.
Wakamatsu's eyes snapped open—and instead of Ran's ethereal beauty, he was confronted by a bespectacled, horrified child.
They both froze in a state of absolute paralysis.
Then, instantaneously, they recoiled, detaching from one another as if seared by white-hot iron. Both commenced gagging and retching, heaving out invisible bile in a display of exaggerated loathing. Conan furiously scrubbed his lips with his sleeve, while Wakamatsu emulated the gesture, his soul mortified.
His romantic climax utterly decimated, Wakamatsu's humiliation fermented into a volatile rage. He seized Conan by the collar and snarled, "Get out of my path!" before hurling him across the room.
Conan's small frame tumbled across the floorboards, rolling until he collided with the wall with a dull, sickening thud.
"C-Conan-kun!" Ran shrieked in horror, vaulting to her feet as she watched him be discarded like a ragdoll.
But before she could bridge the distance, Wakamatsu obstructed her path once more. "R-Ran-san…" he stammered, his nerves frayed.
Ran went rigid, caught in a state of shock. "Y-Yes?"
Before he could articulate further
Conan suddenly erupted from the floor. With the explosive velocity of a projectile, he launched himself forward and slammed the occipital bone of his skull into Wakamatsu's forehead like a leaden cannonball.
"Get away from her!"
The percussion was savage. Wakamatsu's gargantuan frame shuddered before collapsing leadenly onto the floor, rendered unconscious by the brutal counter-strike—though only momentarily.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤