Detective Soul Tune: Conan X Prince of Tennis

In France, Weili's favorite place to spend time was the lawn beneath the Eiffel Tower. She would sit there with her knees drawn up, her back against a tree, holding a book or listening to music. No matter what she did, she felt an indescribable sense of safety. She was easily moved, really, but she always hid her sensitive heart behind a solid wall, shackling it with heavy chains. When the first rays of sunlight in Paris spilled into the little house, they illuminated almost everything: the television, the sofa, the tennis bag, the wheelchair, and... the blonde woman lying in bed. Her eyes were half open, and a faint joy glimmered in their golden-green depths beneath long lashes. After all these years, she could finally leave the cumbersome wheelchair behind and stand on her own. The legs that had once made her famous throughout France, then brought her years of humiliation in Japan, finally had enough strength to smash through a solid wooden door. "It's wonderful..." she murmured, lowering her head. For the sake of her legs, she had given up so much: friends, fame, and... love. Although her legs had healed, the price had been too high... Wasn't it, Weili... (Um... I didn't actually plan to start posting this so soon, but as I wrote, I figured I'd put it up first and see how readers react. This is Moyue's first attempt at a detective story, so please be patient with me.)