realityshifted | [2] a pocket full of rye.

[First grade writing class would be dull for any seventeen year old. For one that considers himself, with some justification, something of a genius, it is soul destroyingly boring. Little wonder then, that as Conan’s hand mechanically copies kanji after kanji, his mind is elsewhere.

Not surprisingly, given the type of genius we’re talking about, his thoughts are on a case. Or – two cases. Mouri had dropped Azusa’s older brother’s disappearance as soon as the call from Yoko came through about a missing colleague -- Tch … that guy and his crushes …-- but the Detective Boys had looked into it for Azusa without luck. The police weren’t having much luck finding any trace of Sugihito Enomoto either … And Conan could only wait to find out what Mouri had learned at the studio. Uncle wasn’t a bad detective when he made the effort … but with Yoko there to distract him, was there any chance he’d pick up any clues?

Frowning, Conan's thoughts turned back to the disappearances that Guinevere had mentioned, and from there to the Astral Plane. When sitting in the first-grade classroom, listening to the sound of many pencils moving laboriously over identical workbooks, it was hard to imagine any place like the Plane could exist, much less some of the people he’d met there--]

Ah – uh.

[Travel to the Plane was indeed seamless. It was quite a surprise to go from sunny classroom to the depths of space.]

AAAAAAAHHHHH.

[And not a good idea to be sitting down when you made it. Conan’s kneejerk reaction to finding himself transported sent his school chair tipping. On the way down, his foot hit the first-grade desk, jarring it so that his pencils slowly began to roll off the desk while Conan’s desperate attempt to grab the desk to steady himself had him pulling his art kit with him instead. Great detective, sure, and used to making entrances, but sprawled on Astral Plane surrounded by paint tubes and crayons, Conan’s thinking this is one entrance he could have done without.]

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He's dead. Like everything else in my world.

He's not the only person to have vanished, and the others aren't dead. Tell me -- what would it take to be able to pull that off?

Being run through with a flaming sword would kill just about anyone.

[Losing Aziraphale again brings the memories of his death back up to the forefront of his mind. The look of surprise, horror, and regret that crossed his face as the sword pierced his body, the flames starting to burn him from the inside. He reached for Crowley as his body disintegrated. Yeah. Aziraphale is gone.]

[Crowley's either too far gone to understand the question or he simply doesn't care. Conan hesitates -- but decides that even sober, his companion's probably got too much to deal with to fully grasp the situation. And who could blame him? It's not like home where this'd be a police investigation ... I'm just an annoying kid.]

I'm sorry, Crowley-san.

I knew it wouldn't lassst.

[Yeah, definitely not the time to talk and possibly give false hope. Conan simply listens, knowing there's not much he can say.]

Sorry, kid... I ssshouldn't be dumping all of thisss on you.

It's all right. It sounds like you needed to tell someone.

Ne, you said the room next to the bar was yours, right? Shall I walk with you there?

Yeah.... Okay...

[He wavers a bit, but remains upright.]

Come on, Crowley-san! It's not far.

I know, I know...

[He heads toward his room..... In the wrong direction.]

[...]

Ah, Crowley-san! Your room is this way.

[He pauses and turns around.}

Congratulationsss. You passsed the tessst.

[Test he says ...]

Come on, Crowley-san! Let's go -- unless there's a friend you want to visit first?

Zira'sss gone and Duo'sss prolly in hisss world.

Then your room it is! You haven't forgotten the way, right?

I know how to get there...

[He heads toward his room.]

[Conan keeps pace with Crowley easily. His mind is preoccupied with their hosts, wondering what sort of people would so callously subject a man to losing his loved one twice.]

Ne -- who's Duo?