"This guy called Goro Akechi is getting more and more active," Conan said as he flipped through the newspaper's society section and immediately saw Goro Akechi's smiling face.
"That's not even the half of it," Kazawa replied while biting on his ice cream spoon. He vaguely held up his phone screen for Conan to see, "Look at this—he even has a fan club now."
To be fair, a handsome and friendly high school detective like him would naturally catch the public media's attention. And once he appeared in various news reports, his face attracted even more people—especially young girls who admired detectives. In just a few days, he already had fans.
Conan smacked his lips uncomfortably. "I solved cases for years before getting that kind of attention… Hah, such a fickle public."
Kazawa coldly refuted, "Nonsense. I heard Mōri-kun complaining about this—you get so many love letters from all over that your home mailbox is overflowing. Ever since you stopped going to school, no one has been clearing out your locker. It's crammed with love letters—it's almost bursting."
"Ahem…" Conan coughed awkwardly. He still felt a little shy yet proud hearing that. He pushed up his glasses pretentiously and said, "That's from the accumulation of my long-term record of solving cases. They're chasing the light of intelligence. His fans are just chasing his looks—it's not the same!"
"Eww—" Kazawa took a big scoop of ice cream and made a sound of disgust, but didn't deny the 'chasing looks' part.
"You know him, right? What's his background?" Conan folded up the newspaper and glanced at the mountain of ice cream scoops in front of Kazawa. He paused, then couldn't help but comment, "That's so much and so sweet. Can you even finish it? And it's not really ice cream season either."
"Of course I can finish it. In summer, ice cream melts too fast. Only in this kind of weather can I eat a big tower of ice cream slowly," Kazawa answered seriously with his twisted logic. Then he finally answered Conan's initial question, "Him? He came back from overseas. Has a rather special kind of work and living experience…"
"What do you mean?" Conan didn't understand the Kansai-style vague response.
"He came back from America. Chicago. Good with guns," Kazawa said directly.
Conan was choked up.
American-style iaidō, huh? Never seen that before. jpg
"My relationship with him isn't good. You could think of him as… a fellow patient?" Kazawa scooped up a full ball of ice cream. "I have a bad impression of him. We don't get along."
Conan was choked up again.
He couldn't exactly press Kazawa by asking, "What's wrong with you?" That would just be rude. Since Kazawa didn't bring it up on his own, it probably meant he didn't want to talk about it…
Conan held himself back again and again, barely resisting the urge to dig further. He quietly took mental notes of everything Kazawa said.
"In any case, if you run into him, it's best to keep your guard up," Kazawa concluded.
Conan nodded. He understood that Kazawa didn't want to continue the topic. So he changed the subject, reviewing the bombing case from a few days ago. "I've already gone through the documents in Hideaki Nakajima's hands once. Dr. Agasa does know quite a few people on the list. He mentioned there's going to be a programmer gathering held in Izu sometime soon. He also got an invitation. A lot of the people on the list will be attending, but the doctor doesn't have time to go. Want to come along?"
Hearing the name, Kazawa raised his eyebrows. "Izu, huh? Sounds good."
It was a great place—famous tourist spot. Whether from a sightseeing perspective or a Conan-logic one, it was well known and worth visiting.
"You can leave Tokyo freely now?" Conan asked, since Kazawa had agreed so easily.
"Not quite yet, but next month should be fine. Don't worry." Kazawa smiled as he dragged Fūkami Yūya's name in as a shield. "My examiner seems to be investigating my case too. He won't make things difficult for me on that front… I think."
Right now, Shuichi Akai was preparing to make a move against Gin. Fūkami Yūya and Rei Furuya were preparing to help send him away. Kazawa was preparing to play around with his fake identities. Beneath the seemingly calm surface, the undercurrents were all looking for an outlet.
Kazawa's backup plans were already in place. What he needed now was to wait patiently.
That time was getting closer and closer. By next month, Kazawa would definitely be free.
Conan was happy for him. Right now, as an elementary school kid, there wasn't much Conan could do for Kazawa's case. Having stronger allies involved would lighten Kazawa's burden.
Just as he was about to ask Kazawa more about his case's progress, their conversation was interrupted by a sudden sound.
"Sorry, I got a message." Kazawa had set a unique notification sound. He recognized it immediately and raised his hand as a signal. Then he lowered his head and took out his phone to check.
Conan fell silent, blinking in confusion.
That was… Beethoven's Symphony of Fate, right? The most famous part. Wasn't Kazawa the kind of person who never turned on sound notifications? Why use that as a message tone all of a sudden?
Kazawa opened the email. The sender was labeled [Moroboshi] and had sent him just one sentence:
[The operation will take place the day after tomorrow. You have two days left.]
It had begun—the first domino.
Kazawa smiled, deleted the email, then calmly scooped up more of his ice cream and said casually, "I've got something to take care of. I'll take you home after I finish this."
Conan looked up at him, confused.
Conan often used the excuse of finding Kazawa to get out and relax. Sometimes it was for cases, and sometimes it was just to unwind—the pressure of pretending to be a grade schooler was real.
Kazawa also needed an excuse to get out. Usually, when he brought Conan along, it was just to find a café to drink coffee or eat desserts—he looked like someone stifled too long by Amuro Tōru.
Today was no different. Kazawa had asked him out just for sweets and snacks. This kind of sudden end to the outing was rare.
Conan didn't ask more. Kazawa had already picked up his phone and started dialing.
"It's me."
"Mm. It's time. Get ready."
"…Yeah? What do you mean by that?"
After a few exchanges, Kazawa frowned. The person on the other end of the line must have said a long paragraph. Kazawa's ice cream scooping hand slowed down, then finally stopped. He stuck the spoon upright into the half-melted ice cream.
"You've made up your mind?" Kazawa was no longer smiling. When he wasn't smiling like this, the sharpness of his cat-like eyes became visible—making him seem hard to approach. "Where are you? Wait for me. I'm coming now."
"Sorry." Kazawa left behind the one-third of his ice cream that was still uneaten. He pressed the payment under the edge of the tray and stood up. "I've got to take you home now."
"What happened?"
"Nothing," Kazawa smiled again, but Conan felt like he seemed even angrier now. "Someone's being an idiot. I need to go knock on his head."