An Abandoned House — Second Floor.
Conan sat in what had once been a kitchen, his wrists bound tightly behind his back.The place reeked of dust and rot — abandoned for years. Through the cracked window and broken floorboards, faint voices drifted from the living room below.
"What?! You still haven't killed him?!""Don't push me! Headquarters said we're not supposed to!""Tch. What a hassle. Now we've got to drag him back to the organization alive!"
Conan froze, his blood running cold. He crept closer to the warped wooden door and peered through a small hole in the panel.
In the other room, the woman who'd called herself Fumiyo Edogawa was arguing with a tall man in a black mask.
His stomach twisted. So she really isn't my mother…
If he stayed here, tied up and waiting — he was dead.
After a few seconds of frantic thought, Conan made up his mind. He had to escape, no matter what.If they were planning to use his friends and family against him, then fine — he'd expose everything.He'd leak the secret of his transformation online and blow their whole organization wide open if he had to.A fight to the death.
Once he'd resolved himself, Conan quietly shuffled backward into the corner, waiting for the right moment.
When the voices finally fell silent and the house settled into uneasy stillness, he acted.He wrapped a piece of carpet around an old glass bottle, then smashed it on the floor.
Crack!
Carefully, he used a shard to saw through the ropes at his wrists.The fibers split apart. Free.
He slipped to the window, easing the latch open to check below — and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Ren Kuroda?!
What was he doing here?
Relief surged through Conan like a flood of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. For the first time all day, he felt a spark of hope.
He waved frantically. "Ren-nii! Up here!"
Ren glanced up, spotted him, and waved back casually.
Before Conan could whisper anything, Ren grabbed a drainpipe and began climbing. Fast. Fluid. Almost too effortless.
By the time Conan's jaw stopped hanging open, Ren was already inside the room.
"Y-you—how did you even find me?" Conan whispered, half relieved, half stunned.
Ren adjusted his jacket and replied in a low voice, "You looked off earlier, so I planted a tracker in your schoolbag.""When you didn't reply to my messages for half an hour, I figured something happened. So I followed the signal."
Conan felt a lump rise in his throat. So that was it.He'd known Ren was sharp, but this level of foresight… He'd been keeping watch the whole time.
"Ren-nii, that woman isn't my mom—she's actually—" Conan started, but tripped over his own words. He couldn't exactly explain why.
Ren cut him off with a wry smile. "If it's that hard to say, don't. Honestly, if it weren't for your mom, I wouldn't have bothered coming."
Conan blinked, misinterpreting the comment entirely as, 'Your mom's in trouble.'He bowed his head gratefully. "Thanks, Ren-nii. Once things settle down, I'll explain everything, I promise."
With Ren here, half the fear in Conan's chest melted away.He pointed toward the door. "They're out there. Ren-nii, can you take them down?"
Ren grinned. "Oh, absolutely."He cracked his knuckles with relish. You all saw that — the kid told me to do it.
Conan suddenly remembered the department store incident and panicked. "Wait—no killing! Don't hit vital points! We just need to knock them out!"
Ren raised an eyebrow. "So… the lower body's fair game?"
Without thinking, Conan nodded. "That's fine! Just don't kill them!"
Ren gave a satisfied nod, like he'd just been handed a royal decree."Understood."
"Okay," Conan said, breath steadying. "I'll draw them in. When they step through the door, you ambush them. Knock them out quick!"
Ren positioned himself beside the doorway, giving an okay gesture. Ready.
Conan took a deep breath — then deliberately made noise.
Footsteps. Voices.
The door slammed open.
"You little brat!" the masked man snarled, storming inside. "Keep acting up and I'll—"
He didn't finish. His instincts screamed a warning — danger behind him.He dove forward just in time to avoid Ren's hand-chop, which sliced through empty air.
"What—?! He dodged that?!" Conan's eyes went wide. That's insane!
Ren, however, wasn't surprised. Figures. If the son's got danger sense, the father wouldn't be any worse.
The chop had been a feint.As the masked man dove forward, Ren's foot whipped up and smashed into his abdomen.
Thud!
The man barely got his arms up in time to block, but the impact sent him crashing sideways into a cabinet. Pots and pans clattered to the ground in a metallic avalanche.
Ren didn't hesitate. He lunged in, fists flying.
The masked man blocked and countered expertly — clearly trained.Not just some random thug.
Of course, Conan realized, heart pounding. If this is who I think it is… no wonder.
Ren pressed harder, throwing combinations like a whirlwind.The man's guard began to break down under the relentless storm of strikes.
He staggered backward, retreating into a corner, trying desperately to protect his face and body.
"Stop!" Fumiyo shouted suddenly, charging forward.
Ren saw her coming, smirked, and spun — both hands striking out in perfect sync.
Double Palm Strike!
His hands slammed straight into her chest.
"Ah!" Fumiyo gasped, stumbling backward, clutching at herself in shock and outrage. Her face flushed crimson. "Y-you—how dare you—!"
Before she could say another word, Conan's wristwatch clicked.
Pssht!
A tranquilizer dart struck her neck. She wobbled — then crumpled to the floor.
"Shame," Ren muttered, shaking his head. "I was just getting started."
The masked man groaned, pushing himself up from the floor. "Didn't expect you to track us here…"
Ren flexed his fingers. "Less talk. More action."
He dashed forward again.
"Wait—!" the man tried to protest, but Ren's assault left no openings.Punches, kicks, elbows — a relentless blur.
He tried to defend, but Ren's speed and power overwhelmed him, forcing him back step by step.
Conan could only watch, fists clenched, adrenaline flooding his veins.
Then Ren seized the man's wrist in mid-swing — twisted — and locked him into a painful joint hold.
"Conan!" Ren barked.
Conan instantly understood.He pressed the button on his shoes, then flipped the switch on his belt.
Fwoomp!
A soccer ball inflated and popped out of the mechanism.
Ren held the man in place, forcing him to face Conan.
The boy's eyes narrowed. His gaze drifted down — the lower body, huh?
The masked man's instincts screamed danger. "Wait, don't—!"
Ren twisted his arm again. "Now!"
"Take this!!" Conan yelled, kicking with all his strength.
BOOM!
The air cracked. The ball shot forward faster than a bullet—
—and struck the masked man square between the legs.
Thud!
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" The man's scream echoed through the whole building.
"NICE!!" Conan cheered, punching the air in triumph.
Ren grinned, raised his hand, and brought it down in a clean chop.
Smack!
The masked man collapsed, unconscious.
Ren turned, flashing Conan a thumbs-up. "Nice shot, kid."
"Heh-heh!" Conan scratched his cheek sheepishly, trying not to beam. "Thanks!"
The two of them stood amid the wrecked kitchen, grinning like a pair of victorious troublemakers.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Conan felt the tension in his chest ease.
Everything was finally under control.