Detective Conan: Death Note

"Well..."

"Although Kudo-kun hasn't appeared for a long time, I don't believe he is Kaito Kid."

"It's well known that Kaito Kid is extremely cunning. We can't rule out the possibility that there's another mask beneath the mask."

"This isn't a matter of bias, nor an attempt to cover up the trust the police have shown in the past."

"As for the police going to search Kudo's house... that was the work of the Second Investigation Division. I didn't receive any notification."

The TV was broadcasting an interview with Inspector Megure Juzo.

In the interview, he firmly asserted that Kudo Shinichi was not Kaito Kid. But the reporters were clearly unsatisfied with that answer—they pressed closer, armed with cameras and questions like weapons.

What a decent man you are, Inspector Megure...

Standing in front of the TV, Conan felt a wave of emotion.

But Hayashi Yoshiki, who had feigned surprise that night and shouted "Kudo-san!" in front of everyone... was not human at all!

Conan clenched his teeth in fury, the memory of that night boiling in his mind.

He took out his phone.

There were several messages from Ran:

"Shinichi, everyone's saying you're Kaito Kid now."

"What's going on?"

"I don't believe you'd ever steal something... but you have to come out and clear things up, right?"

"Answer me."

"..."

If it were possible, Conan would clarify everything.

But that was out of the question.

Not only was his body shrunken due to APTX 4869—if he dared to appear as Kudo Shinichi, the Organization would come after him immediately.

Frustrated to the point of a toothache, Conan tried calling Hayashi Yoshiki.

"Sorry, the number you dialed is busy..."

Tsk!

After more than ten minutes of waiting in vain, Conan finally gave up and sent a text.

Elsewhere, at the Kindaichi Detective Agency,

Amuro Toru sat at his desk, drowning in paperwork. His computer screen was overloaded with unread emails—and the number was still rising.

Fan letters, love confessions, interview requests, case invitations, formal letters of commission—

Even though he'd expected this outcome, the sheer volume gave him a migraine. He nearly fainted on the spot.

He'd really shot himself in the foot.

If he'd known things would turn out this way, he never would've let that kid catch Kaito Kid!

Doesn't he know how to keep a low profile?!

The Second Investigation Division had been chasing criminals for years without success—yet somehow, this guy caught them every time?!

"No, I'm going to die of overwork at this rate."

Amuro sighed and made a phone call.

Once connected, he didn't waste a second:

"Kazami, I've got a job for you. Find a computer and log in to the email I gave you."

"Understood, Mr. Amuro!"

Yuya Kazami perked up the moment he heard the word "mission", nodding seriously.

He logged into the mailbox as instructed. Expecting something urgent or high-stakes, he instead froze in disbelief when he saw the actual content.

While Amuro buried himself in paperwork, Hayashi Yoshiki stepped out onto the rooftop for some air.

He was on the phone—with Kuroba Kaito.

"I really shouldn't have listened to your lousy advice. Nakamori Ginzo has been testing and suspecting me for the past two days... And that brat must be fuming by now, right?"

"If the human-skin mask slips off, just blame Kudo Shinichi."

—That had been the joke between Hayashi Yoshiki and Kuroba Kaito earlier.

"Yeah, he just sent me a message, asking me to get in touch with you and find a way to fix this."

"Next time, I'm telling him this whole thing was your idea."

"Then I'll invite Officer Nakamori to a seafood dinner and tell him about the wonders of fish."

"...Don't you ever talk about anything besides fish?"

"Kuroba Kaito from Class 2-B at Ekoda High looks a lot like Kudo Shinichi, who's caught up in the media storm right now. I'll tell reporters that in my next interview."

"I'm so sorry I spoke too loudly just now, Yoshiki-nii!"

Kaito knelt in mock apology.

Then Hayashi Yoshiki asked how he planned to resolve the matter.

Kaito said he'd figure something out quickly.

Playing a trick was one thing—but if it escalated this far, he'd feel genuinely guilty.

Especially considering that Kaito Kid was being hunted by some very dangerous people...

Of course... Kudo Shinichi wasn't in a much better position either.

Hayashi Yoshiki didn't push further. He hung up the phone with a light chuckle—only to feel a vibration from another phone in his suit pocket.

He answered without hesitation.

"It's me."

The voice on the other end was unmistakable—Gin.

"...Only you would call me on this phone."

"Hmph... I've got a special assignment for you. Investigate that high school detective named Kudo Shinichi."

"...Investigate?"

"That's right."

Gin's tone was cold and sharp.

"He should've been killed by Vodka and me months ago. But now his name is everywhere. It looks like he's turned into some kind of white thief... Confirm it for me."

He used the word "help"—but it didn't sound like a request.

Gin, who once claimed never to remember the names or faces of those he killed, had suddenly recalled Kudo Shinichi, thanks to Vodka and the media buzz filling the city.

If Kudo Shinichi was still alive—after supposedly being killed—it would be a serious blemish on Gin's record.

And if someone could survive after taking APTX 4869... then what about Hiroki Sawada, who had taken the same drug?

The thought left Gin with a growing sense of unease.

He hoped it wasn't what he feared.

One reason Gin chose Hayashi Yoshiki was because he was a detective—fitting for this sort of investigation. He had also caught Kaito Kid twice... who was suspected of being Kudo Shinichi in disguise.

Another reason was internal.

This case fell between the cracks of the action team and the intelligence team. While cooperation was possible, "dirty work" was best left to one's own side when possible.

Gin, in particular, had tremendous faith in Hayashi Yoshiki's abilities.

"...Alright. I'll look into it."

Lowering his eyes, Hayashi Yoshiki gave a faint, unreadable smile.

"I'll compile a few targets and send them to your email tomorrow."

With that, Gin hung up the phone.