"Understanding someone doesn't always require a complex process."
The morning sun filtered into the lab as Ai, dressed in her long-unseen bunny pajamas, padded down the stairs. She directed the comment toward the Great Detective, who sat hunched over a computer screen.
By last night, she had already learned the full extent of Yoshiteru Kazami's history through Hiroki. The fact that the man had avoided consequences for so many years was a testament to the sheer weight of his family's wealth and influence.
Conan remained silent, scrolling through a viral internet thread. Words like hit-and-run and permanent disability jumped out from the screen. The public court of opinion was far less merciful than the legal one.
"Well? Did you figure out who the culprit was?" Ai asked, leaning against the counter as she nibbled on a slice of toast.
"You seem to have had the answer ready for a while now," Conan replied, glancing back at her.
"In a way. Though, I didn't expect you to come back here so soon," Ai teased with a faint smile.
Ignoring her jab, Conan turned back to the monitor. "First off, Tsuneo's behavior made it clear: there was never an 'outsider.' The suspect had to be one of the four actors. And then there's something the old man mentioned after we got home yesterday."
"Something abnormal about Ruri Ujō?"
"Exactly. When the three of them reached the corner of the villa's hallway, the staff opened a room door. Ruri reacted as if she'd been startled, suddenly rushing to the window to 'watch the snow.'"
Ai paused, mid-bite. "Was there something wrong with the room?"
She noted the difference in perspective. Hearing the story from the Fixer and hearing it from the Detective felt like listening to two entirely different languages.
"It wasn't the room; it was the door," Conan explained, shaking his head. "The door had a glass pane. When it swung outward, it acted like a mirror, reflecting the view from the other end of the hallway."
"I see," Ai said, the pieces clicking into place. "Since the killer was her father, it's only natural she'd try to help him cover his tracks."
Tsuneo had already filled them in on Akira Nagumo being the culprit and his secret relationship with Ruri.
"How does he always know these things?" Conan muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Without even a shadow of a murder weapon, this case is likely to stay..."
He trailed off. He had racked his brain for hours but found no lead. He suspected Kogoro Mouri had his own inklings while they were in the car last night, but the complete lack of physical evidence had likely kept the older man's mouth shut.
"What's this? Planning to go and demand a full explanation?" Under her sister's watchful eye, Ai set down Dr. Agasa's coffee and picked up a glass of milk, gulping down half of it.
"Shinichi-kun, perhaps it's best to let this one go," Dr. Agasa advised gently.
The internet was currently a storm of condemnation against the late Yoshiteru Kazami. Some of the posters were his direct victims. To the world, a monster had simply been removed.
Tsuneo wasn't going to change his stance. If anything, he probably regretted not being the one to personally act as the Dark Knight and send the man on his way.
"..."
Conan said nothing. He stood up, walked out the door, and headed toward the neighboring apartment.
He knocked, but there was no response.
Maybe it's for the best, Conan thought. Even if we met, I wouldn't know what to say...
"This set you built is a bit... minimalist, don't you think?"
Tsuneo wasn't away; he was currently reclined inside a game capsule. With Hiroki's help, he had entered a private simulation.
"You were the one who said a flat piece of land was enough," Hiroki's avatar appeared in the virtual world—a landscape of endless green grass beneath a perfect blue sky.
"Fair point. Let's get started." Tsuneo stretched his limbs, testing the feedback. In this space, his physical strength felt nearly identical to reality.
"Based on the capsule's biometrics, your physical data has improved again since the last session," Hiroki remarked. It defied scientific logic. How much time had even passed?
Even in a virtual world, the benefits of honing one's reflexes and mindset against masters of various styles and weapons were undeniable.
"Start the program!" Tsuneo took a deep breath.
Hiroki stepped aside. A figure materialized—a man with long silver hair, clad in a black trench coat, his lips curled into a bloodthirsty, cold smirk.
"He doesn't look like much," the Fixer joked.
Hiroki's reconstruction was flawless, from the voice to the facial features. However, a scary smile was only enough to frighten someone like Sherry.
"How about another one?"
Hiroki snapped his fingers. The "Gin" in front of him seemed to split, and a second identical assassin appeared.
"Two, then. Still manageable," Tsuneo mused.
The next second, both Gins reached into their coats. They didn't pull out handguns. They pulled out submachine guns.
"Holy crap!"
The Fixer bolted. Hiroki was definitely doing this on purpose.
Suddenly, the roar of rotors filled the sky. A powerful downdraft whipped across the grass, creating ripples in the green sea.
A third Gin appeared, hanging from a helicopter.
"These models are quite easy to replicate!" Hiroki said, his hands dancing across a virtual interface in the sky.
Tsuneo looked up just in time to see a literal tank fall from the sky, whistling through the air toward him.
A long time later, after Hiroki had seemingly satisfied his urge to summon an entire arsenal, the "training" paused.
Tsuneo stood amidst a small army of white-haired killers, his arms crossed, looking thoroughly exhausted. "I don't think Gin hates me that much."
"Oh, no, no. On that point, I'm not exaggerating at all!" Hiroki laughed, shaking his head. He had been monitoring various communications. The real Gin, currently active in Japan, was thinking about Tsuneo every single day.
"Alright, playtime is over. Let's start the real special training..."
A few days later.
The Mouri Detective Agency.
"So, this is Mr. Suguru Itakura? The system engineer who went missing a week ago?" Kogoro Mouri studied the photograph in his hand.
There were three clients present, each representing a different company. Apparently, this wasn't the first time Itakura had pulled a vanishing act. Every time a software deadline approached, the man would disappear. It was a complete lack of professional ethics.
"In any case, if you find him, please notify us immediately," the balding man sitting in the middle said, sliding a business card across the desk with a polite smile.
"Hey! Wait a minute! Our company is the one paying the lion's share of the fee here!"
"Hold on! We were the ones who approached Itakura-san to design our software first!"
The man to the left—a burly fellow with a center-parted hairstyle—and the younger man with curly hair to the right began to bicker. Whoever found him first would hold all the leverage.
Kogoro sat there, listening to the shouting match until the situation became clear. Suguru Itakura had double-dipped—or triple-dipped, rather—taking on jobs from three different companies simultaneously.
The curly-haired man, Katsumichi Sugai, wanted a Go software.
The balding man, Teipei Naito, had commissioned a Western Chess program.
The burly man, Ryusuke Soma, was waiting on a Shogi (Japanese Chess) software.
It wasn't just a lack of ethics anymore; it felt more like the man was planning to take the money and run.
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