Back at Café Poirot, the time was already past two in the afternoon.
Left the house at seven in the morning, came back at two in the afternoon. In just seven or eight short hours, they'd experienced two separate cases—truly a fulfilling day. As expected of you, Conan.
Kazawa watched the little detective wobble his way upstairs, having refused Kazawa's offer to help carry things up. He took a deep breath as he looked at the café.
Every time he went out, he'd come back with some kind of injury. Kazawa figured if he didn't give a proper explanation soon, Amuro Tooru would start roasting the surveillance team as useless trash while brandishing a gun to go duel Akai Shuichi.
Honestly, Kazawa felt this was totally unfair. His injuries weren't even real wounds—just scrapes. If Amuro had a problem with that one punch, then blame the glass that only cut a little. Where would you even go to reason with shattered glass?
Feeling like he was about to be scolded by a strict school counselor for no reason, Kazawa lowered his head and stepped into the café with a sheepish expression.
"Yo, the little hero's back." There was only one table occupied near the window, and Amuro Tooru—face full of displeasure—glanced up and spoke in a sarcastic tone the moment he saw Kazawa enter.
"Amuro-san..." Kazawa gave a dumb little laugh, pretending not to notice.
Amuro tossed the rag he was holding onto the counter, crossed his arms, and walked out from behind the bar. He pointed forcefully toward the second floor. "Upstairs. Now."
"Come on, Amuro, don't be so mean." Enomoto Azusa couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time as she saw Kazawa shrink back. "Someone posted a video of you jumping onto a moving truck on SNS. It's getting a lot of attention. The video's taken from a distance so your face isn't clear, but we recognized you immediately. You're way too reckless, kid..."
Amuro snorted, still clearly in a bad mood. "No license, and you dare to jump on the back of a cargo truck. Who was it that swore up and down they'd behave themselves?"
"I-I was just trying to save someone… it was an emergency…" Kazawa muttered awkwardly.
"Upstairs," Amuro repeated, pointing again to the loft with a curt command.
Kazawa drooped his head and followed behind Amuro, who was carrying a small first aid kit and stomping up the stairs.
Amuro's mood was extremely complicated.
As for the issue with Kazawa's public image, it was lucky he had already contacted Kazami Yuya the day before. The sudden spike in attention on social media had been quickly noticed and dealt with. No close-up images had leaked, and the news had once again been suppressed.
He really didn't expect this high schooler to be such an enthusiastic, overactive type. The way he stirred up trouble reminded Rei Furuya of his own school days.
God knows how much of a headache the MPD had back then trying to forge the records for his undercover identity...
Now that the tables had turned and it was his turn to handle such a case—it really felt like karma at work.
"Sit. Hand out." Amuro dragged the loft's only chair over to the bed and gestured.
Kazawa obediently sat down in front of him. Something about the command sounded off… like he was talking to a dog or something.
The messily wrapped gauze around Kazawa's wrist made Amuro frown. He started unwrapping the haphazard bandage while lecturing: "Why didn't you go to the hospital after getting cut? Just wrapping it without even cleaning the wound—what if it got infected?"
Once the bandage was fully removed, the cuts on Kazawa's wrist and the back of his hand were exposed. The longest one ran from the center of his hand all the way to his forearm—a shallow groove gouged by a sharp piece of glass.
Amuro scowled at the sight, took a deep breath, opened the first aid kit, and poured iodine over the wound. He asked while working: "Where'd you learn to drive like that?"
"I was supposed to take the driving test this year…" Kazawa answered softly.
Amuro pulled out a bandage and started wrapping it around the wound skillfully. "Then what about this bandage? Why do you carry it around with you?"
"Um… well, didn't I just have an accident a couple days ago?" Kazawa deflected vaguely, watching Amuro finish a clean and layered wrap, then shot back, "Amuro-san, have you studied nursing or something? That was fast."
"Don't change the subject. I think you just can't help playing the hero." Amuro glared at him. In the end, he didn't voice the words that were on the tip of his tongue—'Last time you tried to be a hero you almost ended up a juvenile delinquent.'
Kazawa really was a brave and warm-hearted kid. Reckless, sure, but still a good kid.
The two secretive "onion men" stared at each other silently, each with layers they weren't willing to peel.
Kazawa had secrets. Amuro was sure of it.
Driving a normal automatic or manual car wasn't the same as driving a cargo truck. You couldn't even legally drive one without the right kind of license. And to react that quickly and precisely to a runaway truck—if Kazawa hadn't been trained, Amuro found it hard to believe.
But no matter what identity he took, there was no way to ask that question out loud.
He'd already watched that social media clip of Kazawa several times, and now, thinking it through, his thoughts had started to align with Akai Shuichi's.
It must be related to Kazawa's parents.
The Kazawa couple had ties to the Organization. The research institute they worked at had been funded by a foundation controlled by one of the Organization's offshore companies.
After many days of investigation, this was the most likely point of conflict between Kazawa and the Organization. If the Kazawa couple's research was funded by them, then it stood to reason the Organization was well aware of their results.
Originally, Amuro had suspected Kazawa Shou might be holding onto the couple's core research data. But now, he was considering other possibilities.
What if the Kazawas had already applied part of their research to their own child? Things like psychological conditioning, cognitive alterations… or worse, manipulation and control—dangerous methods that could even be called brainwashing. Kazawa might've been trained under their direction.
Amuro considered this theory carefully, but he hadn't reported it to either the Public Security Bureau or the Organization. Without more concrete signs, reporting such a suspicion could bring complete ruin to Kazawa Shou.
Because based on intel from his Bourbon identity, Kazawa Ichikawa and Kazawa Leona had been confirmed dead. No matter what kind of research they were involved in, all parties would come down hard on Kazawa Shou.
A headache. A massive headache. A ticking time bomb.
Thinking that, Amuro let go of Kazawa's bandaged arm and started vigorously rubbing his head.
"Cut it out!" Kazawa clutched his head and tried to dodge. "You promised not to touch my hair anymore!"
"You didn't keep your promise either, so mine's off too," Amuro declared confidently, gripping Kazawa's head with both hands and giving it a good shake. "Did you forget I'm your supervisor? I'm definitely writing about this in your report. You better be careful during your observation period."
"I'm sorry, I messed up…" Kazawa surrendered immediately, grimacing as Amuro ruffled his hair into a mess.
Having vented his frustration, Amuro packed up the first aid kit and stood up. Before heading downstairs, he hesitated, then asked tentatively, "Kazawa, if you run into trouble, you can tell me. Any kind of trouble."
His gray-purple eyes stared firmly into Kazawa's. "I can help you with anything."
Kazawa understood what he meant. But he couldn't say anything.
Also… was that question from Bourbon, Amuro Tooru, or Furuya Rei?
Talking to an onion man is exhausting.
He figured Amuro knew a lot more than he let on, but he wouldn't ask, and Amuro wouldn't say. Unless they could talk honestly—and Kazawa at least peeled away the layers of Bourbon and Furuya Rei—he had no grounds to have that conversation.
"I understand," Kazawa answered ambiguously.