Speaking of which, this might be the first time someone's suspected that Mouri Kogorō's "sleeping deductions" are fishy. How does he even pull that off?
But there's no real answer to that.
What, ventriloquism?
Sure, every deduction's basically a two-man act—something like that…
But you can't just *say* it.
"Sleeping Kogorō" might fool the average dimwit, but trying to pull that on Hakuba Saguru? It'd be obvious in a heartbeat.
Lost in thought, Fujino glanced at the little grim reaper beside him.
"…??" Conan caught Fujino's stare, tilted his head, and looked up, clearly confused.
*Fujino's staring at me again! Why do I get a bad feeling about this?*
Fujino looked away, ignoring the clueless kid, and turned back to Hakuba. After a moment, he cooked up a halfway decent excuse. "Brother Mouri's pushing forty, you know. Deductions take a lot out of him physically… You get it, right?"
"Oh, really?" Hakuba clearly didn't get it.
He propped his chin on his hand, mulling over Fujino's words like they were some deep riddle.
After a beat, he lit up. "Oh, I see!"
"Yep, exactly," Fujino nodded, not sure what Hakuba had figured out but relieved he'd bought it. Better than nothing.
Just… hopefully he didn't "get" something weird.
"Brother Fujino, Hakuba-kun," Megure Jūsan called, striding over with two suited guys in tow.
"Inspector Megure," Fujino greeted.
"Miss Akemi and little Ai are here too, huh…" Megure's gaze softened as it landed on the two behind Fujino.
After some small talk, Hakuba and Fujino followed Megure into the venue.
Megure led the way. "From what we know now, the perp's next target is Satō…"
Hakuba scanned the room. "No wonder everyone's on edge. Are they worried the killer's gonna strike during the celebration?"
"Pretty much," Megure nodded. "We haven't caught the guy yet. Based on the clues, it might be one of our own, so he could be hiding among the guests here."
"What about the electrical box?" Hakuba suddenly asked.
"The electrical box?" Megure looked puzzled.
Hakuba sighed. "If I were the perp at a party like this, the smartest move would be to blow the electrical box and kill in the dark."
"Oh, right…" Megure rubbed his chin.
Hakuba might be a famous detective—and the police director's son—but Megure didn't know him well. Their rapport wasn't tight.
He trusted Fujino, the proven heavy hitter, more. "What do you think, Brother?"
"I agree," Fujino said, glancing at Hakuba with mild surprise.
*Not bad. He straight-up predicted Kyōsuke Kazato's move. Guess chasing Kid left him with some habits.*
Kaitō Kid loved blowing electrical boxes, after all. That punk's influence ran deep!
But as the ultimate spoiler, Fujino had already outplayed the play. Forget the electrical box—the guy's gun was already confiscated.
With both detectives on the same page, Megure sent someone to check the box.
"See? It's all about dressing the part, right?" Satō Miwako's smug voice cut in.
They turned to see her showing off her dress to Takagi.
She wore a green blazer over a fitted yellow-green evening gown that hugged her slim figure, paired with sheer gray stockings edged with a hint of black. A touch of makeup softened her usual sharpness, adding a feminine charm. The gown's chest had green lace trim matching the blazer, flanked by black lapels. Red floral patterns adorned the sleeves, and a small slit at the hem gave her some extra mobility.
"Man, you've got some guts," Megure said, eyeing her with exasperation. "You *know* you're the target here."
"Bring it on, I say," Satō grinned, scanning the room. "With so many colleagues around, no way the perp's dumb enough to try something here."
"Inspector Megure!" A burly guy in a suit rushed over, whispering something in his ear.
Megure's face darkened.
"What's up?" Satō asked, catching the shift.
"My team just found a bomb in the hotel's electrical room—rigged to a phone detonator," Megure said quietly. "Like Fujino and Hakuba predicted, the perp planned to take you out in the dark once it blew."
"Huh?!" Takagi gasped. "Then that means…"
"Exactly," Hakuba stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd. "The killer's probably here, mingling with the guests…"
*Click!*
Before he could finish, the lights went out.
"Satō, watch out!" Megure shoved her behind him.
Takagi tensed up, practically vibrating with nerves.
Then a spotlight snapped on, illuminating the host on stage. "Sorry for the wait, folks! The bride and groom are here! Let's give them a warm round of applause…"
He gestured to an entrance as another spotlight flared.
A refined, sweet-looking woman with upswept brown hair stepped in, her pink gown accentuating her figure. Beside her, a man with a goatee in a black tuxedo held her arm, both glowing under the light.
"You two are way too jumpy," Fujino said, glancing at the stage. "It's just the newlyweds' entrance."
"Yeah, seriously," Satō chuckled. "You're overreacting. They found the bomb already—the perp's got no move left."
"Haha…" Takagi scratched his head, sheepish.
"Tomonari Makoto…" Hakuba's sharp eyes swept the room, locking onto a familiar figure from the suspect photos.
"What?" Megure turned, catching a glimpse of the guy's back.
That was it—he couldn't sit still.
A bomb just found, and now a suspect shows up?
That screamed intent to harm Satō!
"Hold on, Inspector," Fujino stopped him. "The bomb's out of play. He won't act now. If we grab him without him making a move, we won't get solid evidence."
"Fujino's right," Hakuba nodded. "Best to watch him, gather proof, then make the arrest."
Megure relented, dropping the idea of an immediate grab.
The party kicked off as night fell.
Close guests toasted the couple, chatting and laughing.
After finding the bomb, the police kept it hush-hush. Most cops didn't even know, and the bomb squad quietly disarmed it like nothing happened.
Shiratori kept patrolling the area, but his luck ran dry.
A gaggle of young women recognized him, swarming over—and dragging Fujino into the mess.
Fujino didn't bother with Hakuba. He flicked a few business cards from his pocket, handed them out, and slipped back to the group.
Hakuba, now smug from the attention, noticed Fujino's move. He watched the girls eagerly pocket the cards, lost in thought.
By the time Fujino rejoined the crew, Sonoko had wandered off to greet someone.
"Mr. Mouri, Fujino-kun…" Shiratori approached with a man in tow, cutting into their drink break.
"Congrats!" Mouri Kogorō raised his beer.
"Congrats," Fujino echoed, sipping his drink.
"On behalf of my sister, thank you both," Shiratori bowed slightly, then gestured to the neat-looking guy with messy hair behind him. "This is my primary physician, Dr. Kyōsuke Kazato, a psychologist from Mihana Shiya Hospital."
"Kazato here. Nice to meet you," Kyōsuke said, deliberately offering his right hand for a shake.
"I'm Fujino," he replied, shaking back. "This is my sister Akemi, and our little Ai."
Akemi gave a polite nod.
Haibara nodded too, satisfied.
"I'm Mouri," Kogorō said curtly. "This is my wife Eri, and my daughter Ran…"
Both women bowed politely.
After a pause, he added the grim reaper kid. "And this brat's Conan, crashing at our place for now."
Conan: "…"
His face twisted with resentment.
*Why'd he have to say "crashing"? Couldn't he just say "our Conan" like Fujino does?! We're both fake kids—why's the gap so big?*
"But a psychologist, huh…" Eri looked at Shiratori, curious. "Are you seeing one?"
"Yeah," Shiratori nodded. "Police work piles on the stress—lots of pressure-cooker moments."
He leaned toward Mouri, dropping his voice. "But, Mr. Mouri, I'd recommend you see one too."
"Huh, maybe," Mouri rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, my memory lately…"
Shiratori sidled up to Fujino next, whispering, "Fujino-kun, you should consider it too. Being a detective this young, with all you've been through… it might mess with your sense of time or something. You asked me the time a few days ago—I got suspicious then. After your car accident, I checked with Dr. Kazato. He thinks you might have Time Perception Disorder."
Fujino: "…"
Mouri: "…"
"Wait a sec!" Mouri bellowed at Shiratori. "What's that supposed to mean?!"
Eri and Ran almost laughed, but hearing about Fujino's "disorder" killed the mood.
Akemi and Haibara, who lived with him, lowered their heads, brows twitching, lost in thought.
Fujino glanced at the suddenly serious group. "…"
*You don't actually believe I've got some perception disorder, do you? I'm just out of sync with your time—ugh, no way to explain this!*
"Hahaha!" Conan burst out laughing, out of step with the vibe. "Fujino-nii, you know tomorrow's—"
*WHAM!*
Before he finished, Mouri's fist slammed into him.
"You little punk!" Mouri griped. "Who're you to mock me and Brother Fujino?!"
"Yeah!" Ran scolded Conan. "Fujino-senpai's just…"
"Mr. Fujino," Kyōsuke stepped forward, tone earnest. "Time Perception Disorder isn't serious—it's like a mental cold. With proper treatment…"
Fujino: "…"
*Are you messing with me? You buy this too?*
He stared at Kyōsuke, inwardly fuming.
This guy was begging for a smack. Spouting nonsense about time disorders—probably channeling some Fuku-yama spirit.
Next time, he'd ship him off to Aoyama Mental Hospital to play with the inmates.
Haibara tugged his sleeve, snapping him out of it.
He looked down to see the little gremlin staring up at him, worried, with those pitiful puppy eyes.
Everyone else's looks were about the same.
Fujino: "…"
Sure, being cared about felt nice, but over something this ridiculous? Come on!
Shaking it off, he scanned the room and called out, "Hakuba!"
"Hm?" Hakuba paused mid-step.
He'd overheard the chatter and… wait, was it legit?
Time Perception Disorder—some mental condition that screws with your sense of time, right?
This guy's got that?
"Brother Fujino, Hakuba-kun, you're both here," Megure said, strolling by with Takagi. "Come with me to brief Superintendent Odagiri…"
"Inspector!" Mouri tagged along. "How's the investigation going—"
"Need not to know," Fujino cut in, parroting Megure's line. "Brother Mouri, this is sensitive. Don't dig further."
"Huh?" Mouri's face fell.
Conan, trailing behind, sank into thought.
Kyōsuke, meanwhile, flicked his eyes at Fujino, pondering.
*This guy… why does he look so much like that tanned blonde?*
Probably a trick of the mind.
That one was dark-skinned; this one's pale, black-haired, different voice—couldn't be him. Just a resemblance.
He's a detective, after all. Shouldn't be up to shady stuff.
Following Megure, Fujino and Hakuba reached a corner where a middle-aged man in a black suit and red tie waited.
He had a rugged look—classic Showa-era vibes, like Sōwa Yūji.
"Bomb's disarmed?" Odagiri Toshirō asked straight off.
"Yes," Megure reported. "It wasn't too complex—triggered by a phone call…"
"Thanks to you two," Odagiri said gravely, nodding at Fujino and Hakuba. "Megure told me you spotted the bomb. Heroes come young…"
"Dad!" A rude voice cut in from behind.
Odagiri's face darkened as he turned. "What're you doing here? This isn't your place!"
"Pfft…" Toshiya Odagiri—purple hair, red jacket, guitar case in hand—lit a cigarette and ignored him.
Odagiri fumed. "You weren't invited to this party!"
"God, you're annoying!" Toshiya exhaled sharply. "I'm just here for work, alright?!"
"Easy, Superintendent," Shiratori stepped in. "Letting Toshiya stay's no big deal."
"Get lost!" Odagiri barked. "We don't need strays sniffing around!"
"What'd you say?!" Toshiya snapped, stepping forward.
"Enough," Fujino intervened, eyes narrowing at him.
"Chill, Toshiya," Satō added, calming him from behind.
With a huff, he stormed off.
Fujino's gaze lingered on a woman at the door as Toshiya left.
Tall, brown hair, sharp features, light blue suit dress and white stockings—if memory served, this was Tamaki Nino from the photo.
She glanced back, then followed Toshiya out.
"Sorry you had to see that," Odagiri sighed, still riled. "If my son had a quarter of your talent, I wouldn't be this stressed."
Fujino didn't get family drama but nodded anyway.
…
By the time the party wrapped, it was night.
Kyōsuke Kazato's plan had flopped.
His key gun was gone…
So he'd bought another from a shady contact.
Satisfied, he strolled toward the parking lot, plotting his next shot at Satō.
*Thud!*
But just as he reached his car, a white figure appeared.
"Bat… Batman?!" Kyōsuke gawked at the maskless, hooded figure in a white robe, shadows hiding its face.
Before he could react, a sharp pain hit his gut.
Looking down, he saw a dart in his side…
"Buying guns again, huh?" Fujino smirked, rummaging through Kyōsuke's pockets.
Thirty minutes later, Kyōsuke woke groggily.
The world was upside down, and he blinked in confusion.
*Who am I? Where am I? Who am I again? Where am I again?*
Before he could sort it out, the rope around his ankles snapped.
He crashed from the lamppost into an open trash bin below.
Lucky it cushioned the fall—though his head still split open.
Clambering out, aching like he'd been pummeled…
Wait, he *had* been pummeled.
A card slipped from his pocket.
"A card?" He picked it up, dazed, and read:
**[You didn't kill anyone with that gun tonight, but you still need a harsh lesson. I've confiscated your gear again, and your cash is mine. Don't bother looking.]**
Kyōsuke: "%%…&¥%#@!"
*My new gun! This gun-snatching never ends?!*
…
The next morning.
Kyōsuke trudged down the street, hands in pockets, looking glum. "Ugh…"
Lately, he'd been cursed with bad luck.
He'd planned to take out the female cop to clear his tracks, but some tanned blonde in the parking lot conned him—gun and cash gone.
Last night, Mihana's Batman jumped him, beat him senseless, and took his new gun too.
Seriously, even among Mihana folks, he had to be the unluckiest, right?
But thinking it over, his plans kept failing because of that blonde guy.
If not for him, the first attempt would've worked, and yesterday's mess wouldn't have happened.
Damn it!
Next time he saw that jerk, he'd get revenge.
He sighed. Just a fantasy, though.
Tokyo was huge—finding some random con artist was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Whatever. Guns were replaceable.
The guy's moves screamed career crook—he wouldn't snitch even with the gun.
As for Mihana Batman… he didn't dare dwell on it.
One run-in was bad enough. Go looking for him? That's begging for trouble.
The guy hadn't turned him in—next time, he might lose more than a tendon.
Rumor had it Batman was on a killing spree against criminals. Kyōsuke wasn't about to tangle with that vigilante reaper.
Cops might spare him; Batman wouldn't let him see another sunrise.
Shrugging it off, he decided to cut his losses.
But as he looked up, he froze.
Across the street, a tall, buff guy in a white tank top approached—tanned skin, blonde hair.
(End of Chapter)