Chapter Three: Shinichi Kudo Gets Himself Into Trouble (Crying Voice)

Deitan High School looked like a typical standard Japanese high school.

Of course, Karasawa didn’t really understand much about Japanese high schools, but as long as no big-nosed gym teacher suddenly jumped in his face and shocked him with some small P5 plot twist, it could be considered an ordinary high school in his eyes.

Today was a day off; the school was quiet with no students around.

Karasawa took out a black folder from his bag and handed several documents inside to Toru Amuro, who then led him office by office to fill out application forms, bow, fill out more forms, stamp, bow again, and write more applications.

Because Karasawa Akira’s situation was special, he was more troublesome than a regular transfer student. After all, his previous school registration was nullified due to expulsion, so one form followed another, and it took over an hour just to complete all the paperwork.

The good news was that he could now barely piece together some of the original person’s family background, because some information had been pre-filled in the application.

Karasawa Akira’s father was named Ichikawa Karasawa, his mother Reona Karasawa, unsurprisingly a mixed-race child.

They lived in Kyoto—something he already knew, having found a JR ticket stub from Kyoto to Tokyo in his bag. He was 18 and had originally attended Izumi Heart High School in Kyoto.

...The name sounded familiar, but it didn’t matter anymore. After all, he was now living right below Conan’s apartment, with his guardian being Toru Amuro. What more outrageous buffs could there be? He was curious to see how far it would go.

Only when he saw his parents’ names did images of the couple flash through his mind.

Though he still had no memories of the original person’s relationship with his parents, he recalled that the Karasawas were scholars living abroad, who left Akira behind in Japan to attend school, resulting in a distant relationship.

Even when Akira got involved in a criminal lawsuit, his parents didn’t return to handle it themselves, only appointing proxy lawyers with full authority. The original person was sentenced without any chance to resist, caught in a scheme set up by a group of unfamiliar adults.

...Truly absurd.

After signing the last form, Karasawa held the thin sheets carefully, staring at his parents’ names in the forms, a deep sigh escaping him.

From his perspective, the entire process of the original person being framed lacked any meticulous conspiracy or scheming; it was a crude, blunt combination of coerced confessions and fabricated evidence that closed the case.

Indeed, there was no need for elaborate methods. The only guardian on his side never appeared, a minor with no way to speak out or seek help, and even laws protecting minors’ privacy were twisted into perfect shields to hide the truth from public view. Crushing a high school student like this was remarkably easy.

Considering the possibility of involvement from the brewery, the truth became even harder to discern. It was unclear where the Karasawas were now—whether they were even still alive.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem filling this out?” Toru Amuro asked as he saw Karasawa dazedly holding the papers after leaving the principal’s office. He glanced at the form in Karasawa’s hands.

“Nothing, it’s all done,” Karasawa said, diligently maintaining his facade, his face heavy with unspoken worries, yet pretending calm. “Thank you for running around so much for me.”

Amuro took the thick stack of documents, smiling casually. “Since I agreed to take responsibility, this is simply what a guardian should do. No need to thank me.”

“A ‘guardian’s duty,’ huh?” Karasawa muttered softly.

Amuro naturally heard the self-talk. He quickly scanned the first form and immediately noticed the family relationship section at the top.

Having already accepted the persona of Karasawa as a “shut-in abandoned by family and society, somewhat leaning toward dark,” Amuro understood the message Karasawa was trying to convey.

Poor guy, Karasawa Akira. Amuro sighed silently, knowing the background.

Poor Karasawa Akira. Karasawa himself sighed too, unaware of the full story.

The two layered personas reached a tacit understanding, leaving the school in a good atmosphere.

——

“This is the key to the café, and this one is for the attic. The café will remain open, but make sure to lock the attic door when you go out. Stay safe,” Amuro said as they returned to the café near closing time. After tidying up and preparing to close, he handed Karasawa two keys and briefly explained the café’s situation.

Karasawa was listening attentively at first but soon found his mind wandering.

From across the street, two figures were walking toward them, casting long shadows in the dusk.

The taller one was a slender girl with soft features and waist-length black hair; the shorter was a young boy dressed in a blue suit, wearing a bow tie and large glasses.

Hand in hand, they passed Karasawa and Amuro, then turned toward the stairs beside the Poirot Café.

...No doubt about it.

Karasawa corrected his previous thought.

It wasn’t that Shinichi Kudo hadn’t been struck yet and that the brewery scandal surfaced first on Karasawa Akira’s side; rather, Shinichi was being attacked while the brewery scandal was simultaneously emerging on Akira’s side.

All day long, today marked the starting point of Conan’s storyline. When Karasawa woke on the train, Shinichi was probably just entering Doro Bika Park.

Catching a glimpse of the two climbing the stairs, Karasawa refocused and took the keys from Amuro.

“You should go upstairs and settle in. Get some rest,” Amuro said, noticing Karasawa fiddling with the keys, trying to link them together. He reached out to ruffle Karasawa’s soft hair.

Karasawa quickly dodged.

What’s going on, Bourbon? You can act all you want, but stop touching people’s heads!

Amuro was momentarily stunned but looked at Karasawa with interest. “Quick reflexes.”

Karasawa wanted to retort with a classic line about ‘rubbing heads won’t make you taller,’ but it didn’t quite fit his carefully constructed persona, so he held back, turning to enter the café. “I’ll rest first.”

“Rest well. See you tomorrow, Karasawa,” Amuro said, watching him slowly ascend the stairs as his smile faded.

Turning toward his car, Amuro took out his phone and began drafting emails.

[Target contact established as planned. No intelligence-related documents found in the target’s personal belongings or luggage. Should we proceed as planned?]

After sending this, he opened another encrypted email interface to compose a second message.

[Any updates from Kyoto regarding the investigation details of Karasawa Akira’s case?]

After checking his vehicle and confirming there were no listening or transmission devices, Amuro completed his preliminary preparations and slid into the driver’s seat of the Mazda RX-7.

He started the engine and waited for replies to both emails, his eyes fixed on the darkened Poirot Café.

Within the pitch-black café, only the staircase behind the bar emitted a faint warm yellow light. Karasawa Akira had likely locked the door upstairs tight, making it difficult to see what he was doing.

Karasawa Akira—an unusual juvenile delinquent in high school.

A juvenile charged with grievous bodily harm was rare; such sentencing usually meant a violent crime of a particularly severe nature.

Yet, despite the serious injury charge, he was given a protective supervision order and transferred from Kansai to Tokyo to serve this period. Was the entire case’s judgment and handling truly lawful?

Moreover, since he had caught the attention of the Organization, how much interference had influenced this verdict?

Damn it. Has the Metropolitan Police Department and the Prosecutor’s Office been infiltrated this deeply?

As he quietly organized the information, replies arrived for both emails.

[Plan unchanged. Maintain contact and observation. Gain the target’s trust as soon as possible. He is the only one who may know the whereabouts of the documents. Pay close attention to his relationships. The target is under multiple surveillances; no interrogation tactics unless certain of not alarming the police.]

[No updates from Kyoto Police Department. Officers in charge are Ichiro Ishigi and Ken Sato from the Kyoto Investigation Division, but both deny involvement in the case. Mr. Furugaya, the biggest breakthrough remains Karasawa Akira himself.]

After reading the two emails, Amuro shook his head and deleted them.

“A tricky guy. A student, yet how on earth did he get into such big trouble?” Amuro thought, piecing together what he knew, growing more puzzled. “Why exactly is the Organization targeting him?”

Still, this was an opportunity not to be missed.

What the Organization hoped to gain from him, and what those documents were—this might be a chance to find a flaw and uncover the Organization’s true intentions and layout.

“Let’s hope luck is on our side, Karasawa,” Amuro murmured, pressing the accelerator sharply.

The undercover agent juggling three jobs now had to head home to continue working late.