Although the tarot cards given felt somewhat predetermined, and the ability granted was also strange, in any case, Kazawa's plan this time could be considered a huge success.
Not lingering outside any longer, he packed two slices of chiffon cake for Conan—as an apology for having tricked him—and sent the little detective back to the Mouri Detective Agency.
School ended at 4 PM. Because of the murder at the art museum, they were delayed until past five. If he didn't send the elementary schooler home soon, he'd be accused of leading kids astray.
"Kazawa, can I call you that?" Although the past two hours were filled with twists and turns, and his alias had been shattered into pieces like glass, which gave Conan quite a blow, walking beside Kazawa now, he still felt that having a peer who knew the truth about him wasn't a bad thing.
These past few days had somehow felt strangely long, though it hadn't been that long since he was attacked by the men in black at the amusement park and turned into a child.
One unexpected incident after another—he had to adjust to the change in identity, and also figure out how to hide the truth from Ran and Uncle Mouri. He really wasn't good at lying. Just like Kazawa said, his acting was terrible. Yet he had to keep making up lies, which made the pressure pile up inside him, with nowhere to release it.
Moments like this, where he could speak in his true state, made Conan feel at ease.
"Of course, Conan-kun." Kazawa played along, supporting his newly-acquired thigh, ah no, ally.
"Aren't you curious why I became small? You've never even asked me."
"Even if I don't ask, I know it must be a very troublesome situation. I can barely take care of myself right now, so I'd rather not be curious about things I can't help with—it would just bring trouble to others." Though Kazawa said this, what he thought inside was: There's no need to ask. Once the all-knowing detective classmate starts investigating the Kazawa Akira case, he'll naturally find traces of the black organization. There'll be no way around revealing the truth. "More than that, I'm more curious about why you're staying at Mouri's place. Suzuki-san said you and Ran are childhood friends, so she and her dad must know what you looked like as a kid. She also knows you very well. Isn't that risky?"
Conan pushed his glasses up and thought of the plan suggested by Dr. Agasa. With little confidence, he said, "Um… someone suggested that I could help Uncle Mouri become a famous detective, and once he gets well-known enough, I could use his connections to find the people who did this to me…"
Conan's voice got smaller and smaller under Kazawa's silent and sympathetic gaze.
"Is the plan no good?" Conan asked in a very small voice.
Kazawa, with high emotional intelligence, replied, "Very imaginative. The kind of story people would pay to hear."
After being subtly shaded like that, Conan finally felt the authenticity of Kazawa being a Kyoto native. He scratched his temple awkwardly. "But it's still feasible, right? Just like today—well, today was a failure, but I've already helped Uncle Mouri solve a few cases, and he's starting to get some fame."
Kazawa, still a bit shaken, rubbed his right arm. "If you insist on trying this method, I have no grounds to oppose. But next time, if you want me to cooperate, just tell me directly. I don't want to get hit with a tranquilizer out of nowhere again."
"Ah hahaha…" Conan gave an awkward laugh, thinking Kazawa's current thoughts were probably quite impolite, so he changed the subject. "If Uncle Mouri becomes a famous detective, it'd benefit you too, right? You need channels to investigate your case too."
"Hard to say." Kazawa gently expressed his stance. "If there's any advantage, it's that I don't have to show my face. My identity is very awkward. If I step into the spotlight to get involved in cases, the people behind the scenes won't sit still. Being too high-profile is dangerous for me. Plus, I'm still a juvenile offender. If that part gets exposed, the media will hound me endlessly…"
Conan recalled the scene at the art museum when Kazawa had leaned close to Inspector Megure and asked him not to mention anything publicly. He nodded in understanding.
The setting sun cast a fiery glow across the clouds. The golden afterglow of dusk fell on both of them, and Conan was reminded of the day Ran took him by the hand and led him to her home.
What was he feeling that day?
"Don't be too pessimistic, Kazawa." Conan raised his hand, only able to reach Kazawa's elbow, and gave it a comforting pat. "As long as we're alive, there's hope. No matter how bad the situation is, don't give up."
Kazawa lowered his head to look at the little kid trying to show empathy and patted his shoulder in response.
At this moment, however, Kazawa was thinking: Walk faster, hurry up and send him back. This little brat has zero concept of secrecy. Who knows when he'll suddenly refresh the boss fight to Shuichi Akai or Toru Amuro again? You need to protect your fragile cover, Conan-kun!
Totally out of sync with each other, the two of them walked in the orange-red sunset, appearing to be having a great chat, the atmosphere quite harmonious.
———
Returning home late, Kazawa entered the café, and before he could put down his bag, his guardian grabbed him and spun him around to check if he was hurt.
"Amuro-san…" Kazawa smiled helplessly and raised both hands in surrender. "I just got invited to the art museum by a classmate after school. It wasn't an ambush."
After confirming that Kazawa hadn't sustained any new injuries, Amuro Toru let go of the high schooler he had just inspected and returned behind the counter. "And then you ran into a murder?"
Kazawa spread his hands innocently. "Yeah, we were the first people to find the scene. The police kept us to assist in the investigation, so I came back late. Really didn't run into any other trouble."
Thinking about it made Amuro Toru even more headache-stricken. "You don't seriously think someone like Mouri-san is a cool detective and now want to become one yourself, do you?"
As an intelligence agent with vast information networks, Amuro Toru naturally knew Kazawa's true role in this case. The police had pretty much been fooled by the killer's misdirection and were about to arrest the wrong person. If the real culprit left the scene, he could easily get rid of the pen with the evidence, and it would be extremely hard to prove guilt afterward.
As Rei Furuya, he felt very gratified to see Kazawa—who had suffered from false accusations—choose to help clear others' names and become someone who lends a hand to others.
Kazawa's disappointment in the justice system hadn't turned into apathy or hostility. Even after being soaked by rain—still caught in a downpour—he was willing to hold an umbrella for others. That was a rare and admirable quality.
But at the same time, Amuro Toru also knew Kazawa was in a dangerous position.
If he started appearing in public like those detectives, to prevent Kazawa from attracting attention and causing disruptions in their plans, the organization might take extreme measures. Even Amuro wasn't sure what they would do.
"No way, right? Me? A detective?" Kazawa thought about it for a moment and figured this sounded more like Furuya Rei talking, so he replied, "My identity isn't suitable for public exposure. If the public finds out that a key clue in the case came from a criminal, they'll end up doubting the whole conclusion… I just want to help, not stir things up. Don't worry, Amuro-san. I already asked the officer in charge not to reveal anything."
This wrongful conviction hanging over him—it was like a sharp blade, one that stabbed directly at the conscience of every justice-minded red-side member. Like it came with a buff: as long as Kazawa wore it on his head, he could stand on the moral high ground and piss freely.
Just like Conan a few minutes ago, Amuro Toru was now also left speechless. All he could do was reach out and give Kazawa a comforting pat on the shoulder.
It really works, Kazawa thought, feeling zero guilt. I'll totally do it again next time.
Once he participated in a few more cases with the reason of "not wanting others to suffer like I did," his character setting would become completely unassailable.
A teenager who was hurt by violence, lost faith in society, yet could still act on a simple sense of justice and powerful empathy, reaching out to every other unfortunate soul like him—who wouldn't call that person a saint?