Conan's mind was racing as he darted out of the car, frantically calculating where he could run to.
He couldn't go back to the Mouri Detective Agency. Ran and Mouri Kogorou hadn't suspected a thing about his identity—that was good. If that organization hadn't taken an interest in the two of them, they might still be safe.
But his own cover was blown. He had to go home, find Professor Agasa, figure out what that organization was after. Everyone who'd come into contact with him was now in danger. He needed to warn them, all of them—
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a hand shot out from a side alley and grabbed him around the waist, yanking the small elementary schooler into the shadows.
Conan flinched in terror—only to find himself face-to-face with a pair of vivid blue eyes. Karasawa's.
"Shh." Karasawa clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled him flat against the wall. A moment later, a furious Edogawa Fumiyo came charging past the alley, clearly having chased him all the way here.
Once she'd hurried off into the distance, Karasawa finally let go and whispered, "Are you an idiot? You really thought an eight-year-old could outrun an adult? Seriously—why didn't you call me?"
Conan stared at the retreating figure of the heavyset woman, his heart pounding. If Karasawa hadn't shown up—if he'd made it to the next street—she would've caught up to him for sure. Worse, he might have led her straight to Professor Agasa's house. And then the professor too...
"I can't drag you into this, Karasawa," Conan said hoarsely.
He still didn't know anything about this underground organization—their size, their goals, their methods. It would be reckless, selfish even, to pull Karasawa into the mess when he had no one to rely on in Tokyo. So even though he knew Karasawa had followed them all the way here, Conan hadn't—
"Oh, give me a break. What is this—tragic hero mode?" Karasawa smacked his own forehead. "Look, I don't know what those people wanted with you, but they're clearly your enemies. And you think you can deal with them like this? In that body?"
Conan shook his head, jaw tight. "They're likely part of a powerful underground organization. I was turned into a child by a drug they created. I still don't know anything about them—and getting you involved would just make it worse."
"I was already involved the moment I found out who you really were, Kudou-kun." Karasawa crouched down until they were eye-level, his eyes glowing bright in the alleyway like twin blue flames. "Instead of running scared, why not strike back? You've been exposed—but that means they're exposed too. This is your chance.
"Who are they? How many people know your identity now? Can the information still be stopped from spreading? It's not time to despair just yet—so pull yourself together."
In the narrow alley, only a few stray beams of sunlight filtered through the windows above and lit their faces—but they were enough for Conan to see Karasawa's expression, completely unafraid. The frantic pounding of his heart began to calm.
Right. It wasn't over yet.
His thoughts shifted. A new strategy began to take shape. Slowly, he said, "Karasawa—I have a plan…"
———
Karasawa may have been saying all the right things—lines straight out of a shounen manga—but the fire in his eyes wasn't exactly the burning spirit of justice. It was more like… the thrill of chaos. Pure mischief.
Even if he did end up helping Conan shove Yusaku and Yukiko Kudou into a sack, it would be purely out of moral obligation as an ally of justice—and, frankly, because it sounded hilarious.
It's not like Karasawa wanted to cause trouble. He just thought it would be really, really funny. And who was he to deny justice its sense of humor?
The Kudo parents wanted to teach their son a lesson, right? To show him how dangerous the organization was, to scare him out of his reckless streak?
Fine, then. Let the storm hit harder.
Meanwhile, Edogawa Fumiyo—aka Kudou Yukiko—had no idea her son had slipped through her fingers. She was heading straight for the Kudou house.
She knew her show-off of a kid too well. In a crisis, he'd only go to someone who knew the truth about him—and he'd instinctively head toward a place that felt safe. That meant home, and probably Professor Agasa next door.
Once she found the right spot, it would be easy to ambush the little brat. One shot of tranquilizer and she could whisk him off for the next step of the plan.
Yukiko had no clue that in the last few days, a new wildcard—Karasawa—had entered the equation.
"She's here," Karasawa said, lowering his binoculars from the second floor window of the Kudou residence.
He and Conan had circled around from another street, climbed over the back wall, and slipped into the yard unnoticed.
"They definitely looked into my background," Conan muttered, heavy with unease. He had actually planned to come home and talk to Professor Agasa—whoever was tracking him had predicted his movements with alarming accuracy.
"Well, duh. You're Kudou Shinichi. You're not exactly a nobody." Karasawa cracked his knuckles, clearly ready for action. "But now that their prediction failed, the initiative's back on our side. Can you hear anything on the bug?"
Conan pulled out his phone and opened the listening app. The microphones Karasawa had helped him place near the front of the house picked up the sharp click of high heels pacing the sidewalk.
The woman was getting impatient. She'd been circling the house for a while, and after another ten minutes of pacing, she did exactly what Conan expected: pulled out her phone to make a call.
"She's got backup."
"You called it. If she were alone, she wouldn't have said she was taking you 'somewhere.'"
The two boys crouched low, ears straining to catch the transmission. From the bugged utility pole outside, the dial tone came through crisp and clear.
"'Hello? It's me,'" the woman said once the line connected. "'Something went wrong. The kid ran.'"
"'He's just a kid. Where could he go?'" The voice on the other end was deep and smooth—magnetic, somehow. Conan frowned. It sounded oddly familiar. But before he could place it, the next line yanked his focus back.
"'He's not going back to Mouri's place. If he's running, it's only to his own home. You lost him?'"
"'Can't find him. Something's off,'" Yukiko replied, clearly anxious. Her heels clicked again as she paced in circles. "'Where else could he go?'"
"'Let me think…'"
Conan's expression was stone-faced, intense. It was obvious now that the people on the phone weren't villains laying out a sinister plan—they were just frantic parents who'd misplaced their child.
Both sides were basically playing mind games with thin air. Karasawa had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
The Kudous really were something else.
Conan elbowed the strangely motionless Karasawa, whispering, "Time for the next step."