"Hey, Ran, it's me… ah, I know it's sudden, but I really have no other choice…"
Sitting across, Kazawa boredly circled a sugar cube with his spoon, watching it get smaller and smaller as it went up and down in the coffee, while Conan used a voice changer, sneakingly making a phone call.
"Yeah, the case still has no clues, the investigation will take a long time." Conan said, recalling those two mysterious men in black, sighing sincerely, "I can't even say how much longer it will take."
Not knowing what Ran asked on the phone, Conan's face tightened as he organized his words carefully. Suddenly, he glanced at Kazawa playing with the sugar cube, got an idea, and seriously said into the phone, "It's a very tricky case… this is an urgent secret assignment, the relationships involved are very complicated, I can only investigate independently… yes, it's very troublesome, because it may involve police department negligence and other issues, so I must keep it strictly confidential."
Kazawa listened and found it suspicious, putting down the spoon and glaring at the brat opposite him.
"…Very tricky, the whole case is a fog right now, I can't go back to Tokyo, or it might alert the suspects…" Conan awkwardly looked away, avoiding Kazawa's gaze, clearing his throat twice, "Ahem, anyway, I can't come back for now. Don't worry, I'm fine…"
"Can't make up a reason, just copied an assignment to fool Ran, huh." After Conan hung up, Kazawa rolled his eyes in annoyance.
What Conan described was basically Kazawa's own case, with a few classic lines like "those who understand understand, those who don't won't," making the excuse sound quite legit—after all, it involved dirty cops, negligence, and even more corrupt dealings. Definitely a secret mission worthy of Shinichi Kudo becoming a secret agent.
"Haha, you said yourself, your case also needs me to have channels to investigate, so no difference, same path!" Conan laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, feeling a bit embarrassed pulling a fast one right in front of the person involved.
Kazawa gave him a weird look, thinking his prophet talent was impressive—if Conan really got the case details, it would be the same path after all. Maybe even Gin was involved in the original case. A hard worker like that, showing up everywhere is normal.
"Why are you ordering coffee again?" Conan quickly changed the subject, pointing to Kazawa's cup, "You live in the café, why go out just to drink?"
They had just bought some books and it was close to lunch, so Kazawa, too lazy to go back, took Conan to a nearby place to eat.
Kazawa sighed deeply, pointing at the equally miserable Conan, "Do you even get to drink coffee now? Do Ran and the others let you?"
"I…" Conan was momentarily speechless, withdrawing his finger.
"Me too." Kazawa took a sip, "Though I'm not a kid anymore, maybe because of how I look or something else, the people in the café never treat me like an adult. It's scary—Amuro-san wouldn't even make me cocoa yesterday, only gave me hot milk…"
Conan observed Kazawa's slightly round features and nodded in agreement.
Kazawa's mixed-race look didn't show sharp features or bones but the fullness of his apple cheeks. If Conan hadn't known he was a new classmate, he would have thought Kazawa was a middle schooler.
Middle schoolers are only two or three years older than elementary kids, after all.
"But it's strange, why do you live in the café?" Conan thought of the Poirot Café, touching the book on the table, "Even if your parents are abroad, you should have a proper guardian or host family, right?"
The key question. Because Bourbon needed to watch Kazawa, but maybe it was also plot necessity.
Kazawa thought so too but said, "I think it's strange too, seems like it's because the café owner is a friend of my parents. But I can't verify, I haven't contacted my parents for two or three years."
Conan frowned, "Two or three years? That's a long time."
His parents usually lived in the U.S. and rarely came to Japan, but he called them weekly to check in, at worst delayed by time zones and instant messaging.
Kazawa stirred his half-drunk coffee with a spoon, recalling, "They seemed involved in classified projects, contact became sporadic a few years ago, calls often couldn't get through, I don't know details. Over two years ago, my mom called me saying she and dad would participate in a special scientific expedition, it would be hard to contact them, and to take care of myself. That was the last time I spoke to them."
Kazawa slowly drifted into thought, fragments of scenes flashing by, soft voices like whispers by his pillow flowing through his ears.
"Akira—that name means light, brightness…"
"…Baby, you smiled, again…"
"Mom and Dad are leaving…"
"…See you next time, Kazawa's a big kid now…"
The scattered fragments rose and fell, warm gentle memories making Kazawa's mood heavy. He took out his phone, reopened his email, and found the cold, harsh message. It was definitely not how his real parents would talk to their child. That couple probably…
He gently closed his eyes.
"You okay?" Conan clearly noticed Kazawa's distraction and sadness. Not very emotionally smart, he didn't know how to comfort him.
Before Kazawa could speak, their conversation was interrupted by a quarrel at the next table.
"Are you annoying or what?" A scruffy young man pushed papers aside disdainfully, "I don't want to end my life drawing flyers, wasting away in your company. My inspiration is dying."
Opposite him, a middle-aged man with some white in his hair held down flying design drafts, struggling to keep calm, "Aihara! Results don't come overnight. Without these small orders, how would clients notice us? Aren't bigger orders already coming?"
"Hah, do they come for your company or for me? You know well, right?" The young man showed no softening, "Without me, could you handle this order? They contacted me directly. Consider this order my severance."
"You…!" The middle-aged man lost control, slammed the table in anger, a pencil flying and landing on Kazawa's table.
Kazawa, Conan, and a few other customers were drawn by the noise, all looked over.
Realizing they disturbed others, the middle-aged man held back his anger, bowed to apologize, and said, "I'll go to the restroom," leaving his seat to cool down.
"Strange people, why come to a café to talk about work…" Conan wondered, looking at their design plans, really not worried about leaking project info?
Kazawa glanced at the young man facing away by the window, impatiently looking at his phone, then at the steep hill outside.
Because he's going to use a dump truck to deal with disobedient employees… Kazawa looked meaningfully at Conan.
When the Grim Reaper comes, even the simple folk of Mihana have their enforcer…