The next morning.
Tōhō Getsukai stood before the bathroom vanity, lining up the spoils of yesterday’s mall excursion.
He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water over his face to chase away the last remnants of sleep.
Cleanser.
Lotion.
Serum.
Cream.
Sunscreen.
He moved through the five steps with his eyes closed, his fingers tapping and massaging his skin with practiced precision.
Total time: exactly six minutes.
It was a speed faster than Shinichi Kudo solving a homicide, and it came entirely without the unpleasant bonus of a fresh corpse.
Opening his eyes, he inspected the mirror.
Even without a single drop of foundation, his complexion was flawlessly pale.
Long silver hair draped heavily over his shoulders, the ends still damp and clinging to his collarbone from his morning shower.
Hm.
Looking good today too.
He padded over to his closet and pulled out a pair of ice-silk wide-leg trousers, pairing them with a thin, off-white sun-protective shirt.
His fingers worked the hem of the shirt, tying it into a casual knot that left just a sliver of his waistline exposed to the air.
Slipping his feet into a pair of creamy white flip-flops, he wiggled his toes.
The nails were naturally round and full, glowing with a healthy, rosy pink sheen that required absolutely no polish.
Time to head out.
Down in the first-floor lobby, Mrs.
Yamada from apartment 503 was busy sorting through her mailbox.
Hearing footsteps, she turned around.
The stack of envelopes slipped right through her fingers, scattering across the tiled floor.
“Y-Yuekui, Miss…
are you heading out today?”
Tōhō Getsukai crouched down, gathering the scattered mail into a neat pile before offering it back to her with a gentle smile.
“It’s Mister.
Good morning, Mrs.
Yamada.”
“Right, right, right!
Mister, of course, Mister.” Mrs.
Yamada hastily took the letters, though her gaze drifted downward, completely out of her control.
His feet were blindingly white against the sandals.
The faint, delicate blue veins on his insteps were barely visible, and the curve of his ankle bones looked entirely too slender for a boy.
A heavy flush crept up the fifty-three-year-old woman’s neck.
“T-that…
make sure you’re careful about sun protection when you go out.”
“I’ve already applied it.”
Adjusting the strap of his canvas bag over his shoulder, Tōhō Getsukai stepped out through the front doors.
A sleek black Maybach sat idling quietly at the curb.
The moment he appeared, the passenger door popped open.
Sonoko Suzuki hopped out, her pristine sneakers hitting the pavement with a crisp thud.
Dressed in high-waisted denim shorts and a striped T-shirt, her hair pulled up into a high, bouncy ponytail, she looked completely refreshed.
“Sister Tōhō!”
She closed the distance in three long strides, slamming on the brakes barely a meter away.
Leaning in, she took a massive, exaggerated sniff of the air.
“It’s that citrus scent again!
I could pick you out of a crowd with my eyes closed!”
Tōhō Getsukai gave her a flat look.
“Are you a police dog?”
“I am not!
This is just my deep, soulful memory of Sister!”
Alright then.
It seemed the bestie concentration had already penetrated straight to the olfactory level.
Second Miss Suzuki’s dependency index was hitting dangerous new highs.
Sonoko practically skipped to the back door of the Maybach, pulling it open and offering an exaggerated, sweeping bow.
“VIP exclusive access.
For Sister Tōhō’s use only.”
“Where’s your driver?”
“He’s sitting in the front.
Please, Sister, after you.”
Tōhō Getsukai slid into the spacious back seat.
The leather was wonderfully cool against his skin, the climate control set to a precise, comfortable chill.
A faint, expensive car fragrance lingered in the air, mingling surprisingly well with his own citrus scent.
Sonoko scrambled in from the opposite side, pulling the heavy door shut with a solid thud.
The Maybach smoothly pulled away from the curb.
Settling in, Tōhō Getsukai habitually kicked off his flip-flops.
He didn’t do it to be provocative; he simply despised wearing shoes during long car rides.
He crossed his legs, the smooth fabric of his ice-silk trousers sliding up to his knee, revealing a stretch of pale calf and a perfectly sculpted ankle.
His toes curled slightly as the cold air conditioning hit them, then relaxed.
The rosy pink tips stood out sharply against his porcelain skin.
Scrolling through her phone, Sonoko caught the movement out of the corner of her eye.
Her brain instantly short-circuited.
Even though I know he’s a boy.
Even though I know he’s a boy!!
But what is up with those legs and those little feet?!
Is this even legal?!
Is the government going to do something about this?!
Sonoko Suzuki, calm down!
Keep it together!
She forced her eyes back to her screen, only to sneak another desperate glance while he was looking out the window.
It was hopeless.
The more she looked, the more entirely obsessed she became.
Tōhō Getsukai turned his head back.
Sonoko’s eyes snapped back to her phone in a fraction of a millisecond.
He didn’t call her out on the staring, but he did notice something else.
“Sonoko.”
“Hm?!
I wasn’t looking at anything!”
“What’s with those dark circles under your eyes?”
Sonoko froze, her hand flying up to touch her cheekbone.
“I…
I was just too excited last night.
I didn’t sleep well at all.
I was packing my bags until two in the morning…”
Tōhō Getsukai unzipped his canvas bag, rummaging around until he produced a small foil packet of cooling eye patches.
He tore the top off and leaned across the center console.
“Don’t move.”
Pinching the edge of the gel patch with his fingertips, he pressed it precisely under her right eye.
A faint trace of Hamon Breathing seeped from his skin into hers—neither freezing nor burning, just a deeply refreshing, tingling sensation that made Sonoko’s entire body go limp against the leather seat.
Once the right side was secure, he shifted to the left.
As he leaned in closer, the tips of his silver hair brushed lightly against the bridge of Sonoko’s nose.
The clean, sharp scent of citrus washed over her from zero distance.
Sonoko went completely rigid.
Her brain threw up a fatal error screen.
Whatever fragile orientation defense system she had left completely crashed and burned.
“All done.
Leave them on for ten minutes.
The swelling should be gone by the time we get to Ran’s place.”
Tōhō Getsukai leaned back into his own seat, his tone perfectly flat and entirely unbothered.
Three seconds passed.
Sonoko lunged across the gap, wrapping both arms around his elbow and burying her burning face directly into his sleeve.
“…Sister Tōhō, you’re way too good to me.”
“Let go.
You’re making my arm sore.”
“Not letting go.”
“Suit yourself.”
The interior of the Maybach fell into a comfortable quiet, the bustling morning streets of Tokyo sliding past the tinted windows.
Still clinging to his arm like a koala, Sonoko spoke up, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“Oh, right, Sister.
There’s something I almost forgot to tell you.”
“Hm?”
“That idiot Kudo asked me to pass a message.
He wants to take Ran to Tropical Land next weekend.”
Tōhō Getsukai’s toes twitched, pausing in the air.
Tropical Land.
Next weekend.
Shinichi Kudo inviting Ran Mouri.
The keywords slotted together in his mind with the heavy click of a vault door locking into place.
Isn’t that…
the high school Great Detective’s grand retirement debut?
The Black Organization.
APTX4869.
A lethal capsule forced down his throat in the dark, shrinking his body back to childhood.
After next weekend, Shinichi Kudo would vanish from the detective world, replaced by a first-grade elementary schooler hiding behind oversized glasses.
“Sister?”
“Hm.” Tōhō Getsukai swallowed down a highly inappropriate surge of amusement.
“Why doesn’t he just ask Ran himself?”
“Because the guy doesn’t have the nerve!” Sonoko scoffed, finally lifting her head.
“He got completely overshadowed by you all day at the mall yesterday.
He’s probably still lying on his bed, sulking at the ceiling.”
“Then tell Ran.” Tōhō Getsukai tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Although…
I kind of want to go too.
I’ve never ridden the roller coaster at Tropical Land.”
Sonoko’s face lit up like a spotlight.
She squeezed his arm even tighter.
“Then I’m going too!
I want to go!”
“Kudo is trying to ask Ran on a romantic date for two, and you want to crash it?”
“He doesn’t even have the guts to ask her to her face, so what ‘date for two’ is he talking about?” Sonoko declared with absolute righteous indignation.
“Besides, the only place that matters is wherever Sister Tōhō is!
What’s the difference between an amusement park without Sister and empty air?”
Fine.
Her mouth really is getting sweeter by the day.
Tōhō Getsukai didn’t argue, simply leaning his head against the windowpane.
Tropical Land.
Next weekend.
If the plot held true, Shinichi Kudo was about to face the greatest Waterloo of his entire life.
And Ran Mouri was about to lose the childhood sweetheart who was always late, always running off, and always putting murder cases above her feelings.
He had given the detective a hard time yesterday, but objectively speaking…
Forget it.
Some things couldn’t be changed, and there was no real reason to try.
All he could do was what he always did: hand Ran a cup of warm water when she finally started to cry.
He had been doing it since they were kids.
He was a professional at this point.
The Maybach took a smooth turn, and the familiar street sign for Beika Town 5-chome drifted into view.
Up ahead, the blocky lettering of the Mouri Detective Agency appeared.
The second-floor window was thrown wide open, a slender figure moving around inside.
Sonoko peeled one eye open from beneath the cooling patch.
“We’re here, we’re here!”
She reached up and touched her cheek.
The puffiness was completely gone.
“Sister Tōhō, seriously, what are your hands made of?
That was a hundred times more effective than the hundred-thousand-yen beauty device I have sitting on my vanity at home.”
“It’s a cooling patch that costs less than a hundred yen.”
Sonoko opened her mouth to argue, but the second-floor window of the agency suddenly pushed out further.
Ran Mouri leaned halfway over the sill.
She held an untied ribbon in one hand, her dark hair cascading loosely over her shoulders in the morning breeze.
Looking down at the street, her eyes immediately locked onto Tōhō Getsukai, who had just stepped out of the car and tilted his head up.
“Sister Tōhō!”
[Akarin’s Note:
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