Why

[madimpossibledreamer]

i have not yet read a kosaku kendaichi novel yet unfortunately, though some have now been released in english so that's at least easier
i tried watching a movie and am about halfway through.  i still have no idea what's going on
they do share the 'don't get me involved--wait i am intrigued' reaction.  and detective kosaku went to america.  that's all i got so far
Ethan=Isan-san
konbini=convenience store
Xander tries not to admit it, but that single episode of Case Files had a big effect on him.  A lot of this ‘I’m not like him, how dare you compare us!’ But also ‘I’m not like him, and that hurts’ stuff in this chapter is from him.  He’s actually been picking up a little about logical thinking from the occasional book read at the library when he’s actually supposed to be studying.
i also get complimented so rarely i don't have a clue what to do with it so that's personal experience

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/The Case Files of Young Kindaichi
Summary: Kindaichi, Willow, and Giles talk on the phone, and Giles inadvertently gives more clues than he intends.
Word Count: 2205
Rating: Teen
more mentions of kenmochi, akechi, and miyuki but nothing too spoilery

        It’d be easy enough to respond as normal, call this Jairuzu-san person ‘Ossan’ and probably annoy him, but Wilo-chan would be disappointed.  That probably isn’t a new thing for Zandaru, any more than it is for him.  More to the point, he wants answers from the man, and while it’s hardly stopped Kindaichi before, he can probably manage to be polite, at least for a bit.  As long as he’s not more similar to Akechi.  If that’s the case, he probably will lose his cool fairly quickly and start snapping.
        Wilo-chan smiles reassuringly at him.  He takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.
        “Hello; is Buffy there?”  At least he’s speaking slowly enough, but despite how casual the man is trying to make his tone, he’s worried.  Kindaichi feels reassured, grinning at the familiarity.  More like Kenmochi-san, then.  Akechi wasn’t fazed by anything.  He always acted as if he didn’t care about anything, even other people getting hurt or killed, and then had the gall to act as if that somehow made him superior.  Sure, perhaps that lack of care led to fewer mistakes and seeing the solutions to mysteries quicker, but it hardly made him a better person.
        “She’s all right, at least.”  Telling the man that she’s only sort of here would only make him panic.  At least being unharmed is a good piece of news to put him at ease before they start talking through this.  “As are we.”
        “…Xander.”  Ah.  He’s also sharp like both police officers he knows. 
        Kindaichi knows that some would consider Kenmochi no Ossan to be not so intelligent, but he has a strong understanding of social situations, especially reading people he’s known for a while (unfortunately, sometimes, that includes Kindaichi), and most of the time he can follow a line of reasoning even if he can’t form it himself.  He’s good at working out what needs to be done and doing it, and Kindaichi can’t fault his bravery or loyalty.  He’d come to the right conclusion eventually, though a lot of legwork.  If anything, Kindaichi’s pretty much just a game’s cheat code.
        Too bad he can’t simply flash a sheepish smile at the man.  He’s not there in person, and it doesn’t work over the phone.  Not that being adorable really works with him, especially with anyone that knows him, but it’s worth trying to get out of trouble at least.
        “Well, we are.  All of us are unharmed!”  He can try to put a little of that in his voice, even if it won’t have the full effect.
        The long-suffering sigh comes as expected.  “What happened?”
        He’s tiptoed around it enough, probably.  Blunt is probably the easiest and certainly most succinct way of communicating the matter.  “We happen to have a ghost, royalty, a detective’s grandson, a vampire, and a bully here at the moment.  Though the last two are apparently the same as they always are.”
        The inhale is harsh over the receiver.  “I suppose you don’t need me to warn you to stay inside, in that case.”
        “We’re trying to!” Wilo-chan adds, and, sheepish, he presses the ‘speakerphone’ button and places the phone on the counter between them.
        She immediately launches into a bewildering array of words he can’t hope to follow.  The hardest part, he decides, is figuring out where the words begin and end; to him they sound like just one long string of Romanji.  Though he is fairly certain he hears his name once or twice.  It probably saves time this way, he understands, and if anything even Jairuzu-san is having some trouble keeping up, which makes him feel a little better about his own incomprehension.  Still, Jairuzu-san is responding with noises of recognition and the occasional comment of his own, so he’s learning more than Kindaichi is from this whole exchange.
        “It is an honor to meet you.”  It’s a shock to realize, suddenly, that he’s being addressed, and really, the older man couldn’t be talking to anyone else.  He’d probably zoned out a little.
        “Uh, hai?  Er, I mean, yes?  Thank you?”  He fumbles through a response and instantly feels awkward.  There’s a reason he doesn’t try to do this formal stuff much.  He has no idea what he’s doing.
        “I’ve read about your grandfather, Kindachi Kosuke,” the man explains further, and if there’s a sobering sentence, it’s this one.  It makes sense, the fact that his grandfather was known in this country, in a way where his own name being known here did not.  After all, he had been to America, though it had been a long time since his trips.  Still, he assumed, jiichan had to have made a name for himself solving cases, even if he had been on vacation.  Trouble seemed to find the Kindaichi family, really, even if they were trying to relax.
        Such a complicated feeling, with pride and shame in equal measures.  He looks up to his grandfather like everyone else.  Being compared to the man is flattering.  Jiichan himself said that he’d inherited his intelligence and cleverness, though perhaps not his sense of style.  They’d both laughed at that.
        And yet, the expectations were a physical weight sometimes.  Miyuki understood, or tried, at least.  She couldn’t understand fully.  How could she?  The Nanase name wasn’t an impossibly high goal to reach.  She was smart, far smarter than most of the people in their class, but she wasn’t expected by everyone simply on hearing her name to have perfect grades, to complete every test effortlessly without fail, to grow and become a carbon copy of his grandfather.
        And true, one could find some satisfaction in finding the right answers or solving the mystery, but even for ‘genius students’, some effort is required, and for what?  Why should he try, when even upon studying, he cannot live up to such ideals?  Why not simply enjoy the carefree life of a high schooler, if he will still be compared only to his grandfather and found wanting?
        And he’s been trying not to say it, to think about it, but he’s beginning to feel truly sick at even the thought of a case, because usually it means that people will die, and more than anything, he doesn’t want that.  (And what of his darker suspicions, that sometimes his beloved grandfather looks at a case with the more deaths the better?  A dark glee that he cannot voice to anyone, not those who look up to the man, not even Miyuki, because it scares him and he wants to love his grandfather despite all the pain sharing the same name has given him.  Freely, unconditionally, because while it hurts disappointing others though that edge is blunted by his refusal to even try, it would be so much worse if he disappointed his grandfather.)
        Worse still is the fact that he’s good at it, this being a detective thing, and that in fact it might be the only thing he’s ever been good at, but he doesn’t want this life, this future.  When Miyuki or his mom ask, he just laughs off questions about future plans, and neither press him about becoming a detective, but in reality he has absolutely no idea what he wants to do.
        None of this, of course, he can say out loud to a near stranger who has only read about jiichan in books and almost certainly wouldn’t be interested in a teenager’s worries.  “Ah.  He’d be the first to say he’s just an ordinary man.”  That, at least, had been his reply to some members of the public, when they’d recognized him at the konbini.  “It’s good to meet you, too.  I’m sorry I don’t remember you more than that, Jairuzu-san.”
        Wilo-chan is staring at him, puzzled about his polite manner, and he sticks his tongue out silently in retaliation.
        “If I’m understanding correctly, we’ve never met.  You might be borrowing Xander’s body for the moment, but it doesn’t mean you’re the same person.”  The tone tries to be stoic, but it’s a little too warm for that.  He’s embarrassed because he cares.  If this was the time, Kindaichi would tease him for his inability to express how he feels.
        This isn’t the time.
        “That’s true.  Though I feel I’m nearly remembering things.  Like there’s something there just out of reach…”  And if he tried harder, he’d just…have the solution to this mystery in his grasp.  He pushes, just a little, and winces at the ensuing headache.
        Wilo-chan looks concerned, and he manages a reassuring smile.
        “Along those same lines, I can feel a connection to my body, however faint,” she tells him, and there’s an interesting point.
        Even Jairuzu-san sounds slightly worried.  “I wouldn’t push too hard.  You might injure yourself.  I would think that the amnesia is an intended part of the spell.”
        That’s a good transition.  “I am told you would be the person to ask about the supernatural,” he suggests, rather than dwelling and hurting his brain further—or, more to the point, worrying Wilo-chan further.  If he remembers, he’ll remember on his own.
        “I suppose that could be said, though I may need to do research to be certain of anything.  I am merely a humble librarian.  Please, Kindaichi-kun, continue.”  It might be slight, but he does sound encouraging, if Kindaichi isn’t mistaken.  And hearing someone else use an honorific is a breath of fresh air.  Well—no, that’s true; Wilo-chan had called him Hajime-chan.  Still, it’s one thing to know that such things are rare overseas and another thing entirely to experience it.
        “What would the motive be?  As far as I can tell, it’s too large an effect to be targeted to specific people, unless there’s something about the town’s history to have brought about some type of grudge.  The person who did this might have been seeking someone specific, but how would they have ensured that?  It seems like the connection is the Halloween costumes each person wears, but—”  Point one, a voice not his own states triumphantly in his head, complete with accompanying headache.  He’s not sure what that means, specifically, but he’s suddenly sure.  The costumes are an important clue, and some mysteries remain to be solved, but his instincts are telling him he is not incorrect.  He just needs the how and the why, but he has a pretty good idea of the who.  “…But who would be in a position to control that choice, other than the person selling them to begin with?  Jairuzu-san, I think I know who the culprit is.”
        “Did you remember something?” The librarian sounds enthusiastic, at least.
        “He just said don’t strain yourself, Hajime-chan!”  Wilo-chan is…less enthusiastic, but then, if she spends much of her time preventing Zandaru from being reckless, it’s probably a natural reaction that can’t be helped at this point.
        “Not exactly—I just made a connection.  Cheisu-chan, who was unaffected, told me that we went to a different costume store.  The owner, Isan-san, would be in the perfect position to have done this.”  He waits even as Wilo-chan’s eyes widen and she lets out a gasp, but no sound comes from the other end of the line.  “Moshi-moshi?”  Has the line cut out?  The timing would be terrible.
        “Ah, yes.”  Jairuzu-san’s voice suddenly sounds very distracted.  “I’m sorry.  The spell might have taken power to get started, but once going could act as fuel.” 
        Point four: he knew the name.  And Wilo-chan didn’t, judging by her expression—she was impressed by the deduction and probably was going through her own memories of visiting the store, wondering how she’d missed the signs, but she has no more recognition in her eyes at the name than that of an acquaintance.
        Point five: He hadn’t voiced that.  So he was trying to keep ‘the children’ out of it.
        Point six: It was quite frankly a terrible idea to confront a murderer by yourself.  Kindaichi had learned that one from experience.
        Point seven: Particularly by the way Jairuzu-san had attempted to frame his explanation as supposition, it’s very likely that this is actually the true explanation of the why, if not the how, of the matter.  And honestly, given the amount Kindaichi would probably have to learn about the supernatural to figure out the rest, it’s probably as close to having all the mysteries solved as he’ll have.
        Point eight: The only things that could serve as fuel out in that night full of mysteries are the emotions (confusion, fear, anger) that those seemingly displaced would feel.  Something would be feeding on the chaos.
        Point nine: This also means that this Isan-san person isn’t done.  Because you only seek fuel to feed something else, and Kindaichi doesn’t need to be an expert to know that whatever spell the culprit plans on using next would be far less accidentally or purposefully benign, or he would have sought positive emotions instead.
        “We’ll come meet you,” he states firmly, sure that the librarian will be stubborn, and just as expected—
        “No.”  That tone suggests no argument.  “I’ll deal with this.  You stay indoors and look after each other.”  He ends the call with no more ceremony, and Kindaichi and Wilo-chan exchange wide-eyed stares.