Not only were Akagi Ryoko and Conan stunned by the sudden crash of the door, even the boy who had been happily playing video games with a controller in hand inside the house was startled by the noise. He poked his head out of the room, blankly staring toward the entryway.
"Ryoko-nee?" Akagi Mamoru called out, puzzled.
"Ah! Mamoru!" Ryoko snapped out of it. She stepped right over the door panel pinning Uemura Naoki, ignoring his pained groan, and dashed into the house to scoop the boy into her arms. "You scared me to death! How could you just run off to play without telling anyone?"
"I left a note! Today's a school holiday for the anniversary festival, and Naoki-nii said he'd take me out…" Mamoru explained, then eagerly pointed to the television. "Look! Naoki-nii helped me beat the boss! No one in my class has cleared it yet!"
Blissfully unaware that he had just been kidnapped for several hours, Akagi Mamoru was beaming with excitement.
Conan sighed and walked over to Uemura Naoki, who was twitching on the ground. He gave him a poke. "Still alive, it seems…"
Karasawa calmly lifted the door panel off him and, seeing that the man wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, turned to the tearful Ryoko still clutching Mamoru. "You can call Mamoru's brother now. I'm guessing this guy never intended to hurt him."
Sure enough, Akagi Hideo was soon called over to the sidelines by the coach and informed that his little brother was safe.
In the living room, the TV was also broadcasting the game live—evidently, Uemura Naoki had been following the match closely the whole time.
With nothing holding him back anymore, Akagi Hideo erupted onto the field like a tiger unleashed. Amid the deafening cheers of the crowd, he scored two goals in rapid succession.
The commentator's voice practically cracked from excitement, screaming over the roar of the stadium, "3 to 1! God-Leg Hideo dominates the pitch! He's finally unleashed the power of his golden shot! And let's not forget that godlike assist in the first half! This is Tokyo Aoyama's very own 'God-Leg Hideo'—Akagi Hideo! A dazzling football genius!"
"Hmph. Genius…" Uemura Naoki, now dragged into the living room by Karasawa, let out a cold snort. "Yeah, he's always been the genius. And me? I'm just the idiot who works hard but has no talent…"
Everyone turned to look at Uemura Naoki, who had collapsed on the floor, clutching his plaster-cast right leg. Under their gaze, he no longer bothered to hide the bitterness in his heart. He growled through gritted teeth:
"Back in high school, our records on the team were pretty similar. But his popularity, his sponsorship deals—they were way ahead of mine. I couldn't accept that. After joining Aoyama, I trained day and night, desperate to surpass him, to prove I was better! And finally, I was catching up…"
"Then, in a training match, he smashed my right calf bone! I'm out for the whole season, maybe longer—I don't even know if I'll ever be the same again!" Uemura slammed his cast-covered knee in frustration. "He did it on purpose. He had to. Ha! 'Golden Twin Stars'—that brat, you're right. I never intended to hurt Mamoru. I just wanted that genius to understand—he's not going to win forever! The world doesn't always go his way!"
Conan's expression turned solemn—he wore the classic look he always had when listening to a suspect's emotional confession.
"Ryoko, call the police. Let them come take me in." Uemura Naoki, drained of his rage, looked calmly at the TV screen where Akagi Hideo was locked in a group hug with his teammates. "If Hideo finds out it was me… I bet he'll be shocked."
"Hideo, who's the first person you want to share this win with?" asked the reporter, holding the mic out to the match's hero.
"Ah… I'd like to tell Miss Ryoko, my little brother… and…" Akagi Hideo rubbed his sweaty cheek sheepishly. "My best partner and rival—Uemura Naoki."
"He's out with an injury, but I've been thinking… if he were here, we probably would've scored even more, right?"
Karasawa stood from the couch without so much as glancing at the stunned Uemura, reached out, and tugged Conan to his side. "Come on, Conan. Nothing more for us to do here."
Then, with a smirk and a teasing arch of his brow at "Akagi" Ryoko, he added, "Miss Ryoko, I'm guessing your last name's not actually Akagi? Name changes are usually something to consider after marriage, don't you think?"
"Ah!" Ryoko flinched and blushed so hard it was visible to the naked eye.
On the television, Akagi Hideo beamed brightly and pumped his fist at the camera. "Get better soon! I'll be waiting for you on the field, Naoki!"
Conan, reluctantly dragged toward the door, looked back again and again. Watching Uemura Naoki collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down his face as he muttered "idiot… moron…" to himself, Conan hesitated. "Are you sure we don't need to call the police?"
Karasawa shrugged. "No one really got hurt. Let the people involved decide for themselves. Call the cops or don't—it's their choice. I'm not the kind of guy who lives for procedural justice. Sorry, little detective."
Conan opened his mouth to protest, but remembering how Karasawa himself had been falsely accused, he didn't know where to begin.
"Hurry up," Karasawa said, scooping up the dawdling Conan like luggage. "If we don't scram, someone's gonna realize we broke their door and make us pay for it."
"Put me down!" Conan wriggled free and landed on his feet. "I only look like a kid, don't treat me like a grade schooler!"
"It's just easier this way…" Karasawa coughed to suppress a laugh, then quickly changed the subject. "You seemed surprised I didn't report it."
"Most detectives wouldn't let something like this slide," Conan replied, folding his hands behind his head as he walked alongside Karasawa down the street.
"That depends on one's definition of justice," Karasawa said, slipping both hands into his pockets. "The café I live in—it's called Poirot. I'm sure you know who that's named after?"
"Hercule Poirot?" Conan, ever the mystery geek, recognized the name immediately.
Karasawa nodded. "Right. You've seen Murder on the Orient Express, yeah? What did you think of the ending?"
In Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie famously crafted a mystery where every suspect took part in the murder. It was a blood-tinged revenge by those the law had failed. Poirot, having uncovered the full truth, chose not to expose them—he let them go.
Conan opened his mouth, feeling this was a loaded question. Karasawa seemed to be implying that he, like Poirot, cared more about truth and moral justice than blind legality. That was still a detective—but of a different kind.
After thinking for a moment, Conan finally said cautiously, "I don't entirely disagree with Poirot's choice. But defining justice by your own standards… that's also a kind of arrogance that defies justice itself."
Karasawa wasn't just chatting about philosophy for fun. He was laying groundwork.
There were going to be many more cases cropping up around Conan. Some Karasawa could prevent with his Phantom Thief heart; some he could head off with his foreknowledge of the plot. But inevitably, there would be murders he couldn't—or wouldn't—stop. Giving Conan a little mental prep now could spare them both a lot of arguments later.
Karasawa thought for a moment. Unsure whether Murder on the Orient Express had been adapted in this world, he slightly rephrased a quote from the film version and said:
"I realized the scales of justice can't stay balanced forever. So I'm learning to live with the imbalance."