For Edogawa Conan, Amuro Tooru was a highly dependable adult, despite a few surrounding eccentricities.
He possessed an inherent intelligence that allowed him to effortlessly keep pace with Conan's conversations without significant strain. Consequently, Conan felt a great sense of ease with him, as Amuro seemed to grasp his meaning with perfect harmony and synergy.
Amuro provided a comfort Conan had only previously experienced with his own father, alleviating the stress of having to maintain his disguise—even though the situation was primarily a result of his own mistakes.
Amuro's support in the deduction process was exceptionally precise. He did not merely use his position as an adult (a status Conan lacked) to convey Conan's conclusions to everyone else.
Moreover, he frequently helped Conan remain at the crime scene by feigning guardianship, asserting, "I'll look after Conan-kun," an act that saved him in numerous situations where he was on the verge of being asked to leave.
Amuro also compensated for the limited motive power of Conan's turbo-powered skateboard by utilizing his own RX-7 car.
In the recent serial bombing case, where the famous architect Moriya Teiji was the culprit, Amuro's assistance was instrumental. When Conan discovered the bomb and realized the imminence of the explosion, Amuro's intervention ensured everyone's survival without serious injuries.
"Conan-kun, is this a bomb?"
"It will explode in 40 seconds! We must get it to the Temizu River!"
Amuro's reaction was immediate upon hearing Conan's urgent shout, which provided only the minimum necessary information. This was particularly notable as Amuro was simply passing by after finishing his shopping.
He quickly picked up Conan, who was immobilized due to a malfunction in his turbo skateboard, and in the next moment, sped off at maximum velocity. Thanks to his phenomenal speed and skillful, "parkour-like" movement capabilities, he expertly reached the Temizu River within the critical 40 seconds.
He safely tossed the bomb into the river, and near the faint blast site, they exchanged a light fist bump.
That feeling, and the spirit of accomplishment, could without hesitation be described as "partnership."
"Haibara, what's wrong?"
That day, walking home from school, Conan addressed Haibara Ai—Sherry, the former Black Organization member—with surprise. She stood there, silent and frozen.
Professor Agasa had recently taken her in after finding her collapsed in the rain.
Following her sister's murder, she had ingested the poison and escaped, her body shrinking just like Conan's.
While Conan made no secret of his resentment toward the creator of the poison, he recognized that her circumstances had undoubtedly been cruel and painful.
He had resolved to protect Haibara Ai from the Organization, vowing to set aside their differences and trust her.
But now, she stood trembling, her face a ghastly, bluish pale.
Conan stepped in to shield Haibara, quickly scanning the area to ensure no suspicious figures in black were nearby.
"Hey, don't tell me the Black Organization is..."
"...Gh..."
A voice, faint with distress, barely reached Conan's ears.
"Huh?"
"...That person who just passed by. Is he the detective, Amuro Tooru, that you talk about all the time?"
"Oh, yes. Amuro-san. He's a good man and trustworthy, despite the mystery surrounding him. He helped me a great deal after I shrank. You haven't seen him before because he's been away on a trip for about two weeks. Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"
Conan replied to Haibara's question in a warm, friendly tone.
He had just received a box of high-end sweets, a souvenir from Amuro's recent trip to France. These sophisticated treats were hardly suitable for children, yet he had been forced to nod with a wry smile when Amuro remarked, "But isn't this your favorite kind?"
In stark contrast to Conan's composure...
Haibara let out a stifled cry and recoiled instantly. An uncontrollable tremor seized her, her breathing ragged and bordering on hyperventilation. Her eyes lost focus, staring blindly at some ghost of the past hovering in the empty air, while her face drained of all color.
"Hey, Haibara, calm down! Just breathe slowly."
"A good man? A good man?! Are you talking about that serial killer?!"
Conan gasped, stunned.
"S-Serial killer? What are you talking about...?"
"It's true! Even I thought so at first! I believed he was warm like sunlight amidst the Organization's darkness! I thought he could save my sister! But...!"
Haibara's voice was a blood-curdling, hysterical shriek—a specific kind of madness borne only from a tortured soul.
Her tears fell thick and fast, darkening the asphalt beneath her.
"Wait. Are you saying Amuro-san is a member of the Black Organization?"
"...His codename is Bourbon. He is the Organization's executioner, the man primarily tasked with purging traitors and obliterating hostile groups. He is a serial killer by nature, a favorite of Gin. They call him the 'Wolf-Dog'."
Saying no more, Haibara wrapped her arms around herself and broke down, sobbing in stifled cries.
"Oh god, what do I do?! He's come to hunt me down! Everyone... everyone is going to die! He'll tear out their hearts with claws, just like he did to my sister, and he'll do it with a look of pure joy! And it's all my fault!!!"
"W-Wait! Amuro-san is an Organization member and a serial killer? Don't talk nonsense! That can't be true."
"He is! But you'll never understand!"
Haibara sank onto the deserted sidewalk in the fading sunset and buried her face between her knees.
Conan found it impossible to believe. Yet, simultaneously, his rational mind began to process the hypothetical: What if it is true?
Even if Amuro Tooru were an agent of the Black Organization, it was highly unlikely he was targeting Conan specifically. After all, he had become Mouri Kogoro's apprentice a full week before Conan's entanglement with the Organization and his subsequent shrinking. Furthermore, Haibara Ai's meeting with Conan had been a matter of pure chance.
While it was possible Amuro had received subsequent orders to eliminate the traitor Sherry, it was nearly impossible for him to connect Miyano Shiho to a little girl he knew nothing about.
Conan placed a hand on Haibara's shoulder, forcing her to face his deduction.
"Calm down! If that were the case, we would be dead by now! Remember, Amuro-san became Uncle Mouri's apprentice before you ever arrived at Professor Agasa's. We can safely assume he hasn't discovered our true identities yet!"
"It's only a matter of time! You say that because you don't know what happens to those the 'Wolf-Dog' targets!"
Despite her intense sobbing, Haibara showed no sign of being reassured.
Perhaps she had sensed the shock that had rattled Conan's core convictions—the very roots of his belief system had been shaken.
That man was an Organization member and a serial killer. His mind could not reconcile how someone with such a smile could be a butcher—a man who had murdered Haibara's sister along with countless other victims.
Yet, his deductive faculties cut through to the truth with absolute clarity, leaving his emotions far behind.
The unease he had felt whenever he watched Amuro apprehend criminals stemmed from the man's use of a bizarre weapon in close-quarters combat.
He was a skilled fighter who preferred direct engagement, utilizing an ultra-short-range weapon: claws.
Conan gritted his teeth unconsciously.
"For now, we must ensure he doesn't realize we've uncovered his true identity. And, of course, the fact that we shrank due to APTX 4869 must remain a secret."
"...Yes, that's right."
"If he finds out, we're dead. Correct?"
"I have never seen anyone targeted by the Wolf-Dog survive."
"I see."
The situation was dire. If he returned home now, Amuro would be there to greet him, likely helping Ran prepare dinner.
Betray nothing in your voice. Reveal nothing on your face. Show nothing in your movements.
If he slipped up, the life of his childhood friend, Mouri Ran, would be in grave danger.
Could it really be? Amuro-san, a serial killer? It's impossible.
Conan especially loved the pumpkin croquettes made by Amuro, who was a skilled cook. Out of pure kindness, Amuro had offered to take over the cooking at the Mouri household to lighten the load on Ran, who handled all the chores despite being a student.
His emotional denial and his logical deduction—which confirmed the truth—ground against each other painfully within him.
The sunset sky he gazed up at was stained a deep, blood red.
He felt as though he were walking voluntarily into the maw of a beast, and his steps toward home grew undeniably heavy.
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