The day has finally arrived when I will reunite Akemi Miyano with Ai Haibara!
Immediately following the Pisco incident, Conan showed up at the door of my safe house. I was incredibly relieved; I had calculated the odds of him actually coming to me at only fifty percent.
It appeared he hadn't been able to visit a hospital to check his gunshot wound. Fortunately, the bleeding wasn't severe, and since Mr. Furuya had already administered first aid, he would likely be fine provided he rested for a while.
I emphasized that he must contact me immediately if he developed a fever, given the risk of infection. When I mentioned I could arrange treatment at a trusted hospital, Conan nodded with a grave expression.
I was also worried about Ms. Haibara. She had faced a barrage of gunfire on the roof of the Haido City Hotel, yet she hadn't come with him. Conan would only say, "She's fine," which frankly did little to assuage my concerns.
When she fled the hotel that day, she had been trembling so violently it was a miracle she could run at all. Her pupils had been fully dilated with terror.
...Come to think of it, it was only then that I realized I might have inflicted severe psychological trauma on her. I consulted Mr. Furuya, who was understandably flustered—"Wait, are we the cause? Impossible, but..."—and I immediately called Lupin III the next day to ask what could be done if I was indeed responsible.
Lupin's response was cold and detached: "It's your fault, so just leave her alone."
He was right, of course.
The greatest kindness I could offer was to stay away. Lupin had issued a direct order to that effect, so our hands were tied. While Mr. Furuya and I wallowed in despair over the situation, we spent our days sending the promised luxury handbags to Dr. Agasa's house by way of apology.
The very next day, Conan came storming in, shouting at me: "She's terrified, so cut it out!!"
Why?
Well, as a result of everything that has transpired, this is where we stand now.
I am currently driving the RX-7 with Conan in the passenger seat, heading toward the Hiro Hikaru Detective Agency.
The reason is that we have taken Akemi Miyano under our protection; she is currently being sheltered at the agency run by "Scotch," otherwise known as Hiro Hikaru.
To the outside world, she serves as the agency's accountant and administrative assistant.
However, her years within the Organization have instilled in her remarkable grit and mental fortitude, making her unexpectedly adept at investigative work. In fact, she sometimes notices details even better than Scotch, despite his sniper training which relies heavily on observation.
The car sped along the highway, the scenery blurring past us.
Conan sat silently beside me, while Mr. Furuya—residing internally—shifted with distinct unease.
"Does the wound still hurt?"
"...Pain like this is trivial. I owe it to you that we managed to stop Pisco."
His blunt tone made it clear that he wasn't entirely satisfied with how things had played out.
It was Mr. Furuya currently in control, speaking through me.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I watched Conan look at Mr. Furuya, scowling as if he had tasted something foul.
"As a detective, I will definitely catch you one day. But... back there, you saved me."
"Thank you," he said, lowering his gaze to avoid mine.
Mr. Furuya, who had braced himself for a reprimand, widened his eyes in surprise and stared at Conan.
Their blue eyes met.
A clear light shone in his eyes, mirroring the greenery rushing past the window.
Mr. Furuya offered a faint, gentle smile.
"You're welcome. I'm just glad you're safe."
"But I won't need it next time. I'll handle things so you won't have to kill."
His tone was light, yet it carried the weight of a solemn vow and self-admonition, wrapped in an aura of steely resolve.
His voice was clear, resonating with noble ambition.
"I wonder about that. You are unexpectedly reckless. If you rush in and catch Gin's eye, not even I will be able to fully protect you."
"Shut up."
When Mr. Furuya teased him with a laugh, Conan scowled and pouted.
He turned his face toward the window in annoyance.
Yet, he stole a glance at us while still facing away.
"By the way... do you switch places with Vermouth regularly?"
That my shoulders didn't jump in panic was solely due to Mr. Furuya's composure and mental strength.
Feigning indifference, I slowly shook my head.
"...That's impossible, isn't it? What makes you think that?"
"Because your vibe changes drastically sometimes. Just a hunch."
"If it were Vermouth, she would never slip up and reveal a change in her aura. She can maintain a perfect disguise, even before her closest friends."
"True enough. Forget it."
That was a close call.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief within the depths of my subconscious.
It seems he is starting to notice the difference between Mr. Furuya and me.
─── (He really is an extraordinary child, defying all logic. To see through us like that... is he truly a first-grader? His future looks terrifyingly bright.)
─── (Well, it is Conan, after all; I shouldn't be surprised. Even though he rejected us, I seriously want to recruit him as a subordinate one day...)
─── (I agree. Even as a collaborator, he would be an asset. His inexperience makes him reckless, which is his only flaw, but his sharp intellect more than makes up for it.)
We arrived at the detective agency, which, as usual, appeared dilapidated; its thin walls suggested it would struggle to withstand the summer heat. Nevertheless, despite the aging prefabricated structure, a new sign and a small flower box gave it a slightly professional look, hinting that it was open for business.
I parked the car, and Conan and I stepped out.
A man with light stubble standing near the sign raised his hand casually and chuckled in greeting.
"Hey, Amuro. You doing alright?"
"It's been a long time, Hiro."
His gentle face, fitting for the character "Scotch," was smiling and entirely innocuous.
Conan tilted his head like a child and asked curiously.
"Is he an acquaintance of yours?"
"Just an old friend. He works as a private investigator and hired Miyano Akemi as his assistant."
"...He doesn't look like he makes much money."
"Come on. He's supposed to earn enough to live comfortably. Right, Hiro?"
"Well, things are 'good' (not bad). The office location is poor, though, so we don't get many clients."
Scotch scratched his head, adding, "Maybe I should consider relocating."
He exuded an aura of relaxation and peaceful country life, and he seemed genuinely happy.
Seeing his close friend enjoying such a quiet life in a remote area, Mr. Furuya (who resides within me) stomped his feet with deep-seated resentment and jealousy.
I understand your feelings, but... Oh, calm down, Furuya Rei.
(You're saying you want this life quickly, too?) Well, perhaps, but if you actually got this life, wouldn't you miss the field and rush back to work?
We slid the door open with a gara gara sound and entered the office. The place was relatively clean and tidy.
There, the long black hair of a woman wiping down the desk caught my eye.
A smile.
And a soft voice.
"Oh, you've arrived. I'll make the tea, please wait a moment."