31: Chapter 31: Distortion of Human Nature or Moral Decay?

The next day, Fujino was on a Shinkansen bullet train bound for Kyoto.

Settled in a Green Car (first class) seat, he gazed absently out the window, his mind preoccupied.

Numabuchi Kiichiro.

The name echoed in his thoughts. Fujino remembered him – a ruthless individual who had escaped the Black Organization's clutches and evaded capture for a year... A truly dangerous adversary.

Even with Fujino's enhanced abilities, apprehending him would be difficult.

So why take the case? Besides the two million yen bounty, there was another reason:

the possibility of finding clues about his parents' murder.

Numabuchi escaped the Organization a year ago, killing several men in black suits during his flight... Coincidentally, Fujino's parents were wearing black clothes the night they were murdered. The timelines matched.

Fujino suspected Numabuchi might be responsible.

Plus, given the Conan-verse tendency for everything to somehow connect back to the Organization, capturing and interrogating Numabuchi seemed like a logical step.

If Numabuchi wasn't the killer, Fujino would hand him over to the police.

But if he was... Fujino silently pulled the photo of his parents from his pocket dimension, a cold glint hardening his dark eyes.

"Excuse me, aren't you Detective Fujino? The one who took down that drug ring all by yourself a while back?"

A young woman's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

Fujino turned, startled, to see a girl standing beside his seat. She looked to be in her early twenties, her expression shy yet eager.

"Do I know you, miss?" Fujino asked, puzzled.

"Of course! How could I not know you?!" The girl's shyness evaporated, replaced by excited admiration.

"That case was huge news in the detective community! Everyone was talking about it!"

"Really? Was it that big a deal?" Fujino hadn't realized the Moonlight Island incident had garnered that much attention.

"Could I... could I possibly get your autograph?" the girl asked, pulling out a worn copy of a Sherlock Holmes novel from her backpack and holding it out tentatively.

"Sure, I guess..." Fujino retrieved a fountain pen from his pocket.

"Where do you want it?"

"Right here!" She pointed to the book's title page.

Fujino nodded and signed his name: Fujino Douji.

"Thank you so much!" The girl bowed deeply, then hurried away, clutching the signed book.

"Am I really that famous now?" Fujino watched her retreating back with a faint smile.

Typical pure-hearted Conan-verse fangirl... It's nice to be admired.

Meanwhile, on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other side of the carriage, a woman glared intently at Fujino, her heart pounding.

She had shoulder-length hair, wore heavy lipstick, and was dressed in a pink business suit with a tight skirt – the picture of a sharp, professional woman.

"Strange... feels like someone's watching me."

Fujino sensed the stare, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠glanced around casually, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He shrugged.

"Must be my imagination."

As Fujino turned back, the woman let out a silent breath of relief.

She continued glaring at his back, muttering inwardly,

"Damn it! Why are there detectives everywhere?! Hope this guy doesn't notice the transaction later..."

"Now arriving at Nagoya! Nagoya! Passengers disembarking, please prepare..."

"Nagoya already?" Fujino thought.

"Kyoto must be next." He stretched lazily in his seat, a fleeting memory of some obscure anime reference about Nagoya's 'Four Heavenly Kings' flashing through his mind...

"Fujino? What are you doing here?"

Fujino turned towards the voice but saw no one. He looked down. A certain small boy was staring up at him in astonishment.

"Conan?" Fujino blinked.

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Fujino-oniisan!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A knowing smirk spread across Fujino's face as he reached down and ruffled Conan's hair.

"Got it, Conan-kun?"

"Listen! Fujino!" Conan ignored the teasing, his expression deadly serious, far beyond his apparent age.

"I just overheard two guys in black suits talking! There's someone on this train with a bomb in their briefcase! And it's set to go off in less than ten minutes!"

Conan didn't have time for banter, nor did he notice the strange look that flickered across Fujino's face.

He just prayed Fujino would believe what a 'little kid' was telling him.

Fujino's smirk vanished instantly.

Wait, this Grim Reaper elementary schooler is on this train TOO?!

Combined with the just-announced stop at Nagoya... a dreadful sense of foreboding washed over Fujino.

The Shinkansen Bombing Case!

If he remembered correctly, Gin and Vodka, the Organization's 'workaholic duo,' had just planted a bomb on this very train... And it was supposed to be in this carriage!

Damn it! Fujino cursed internally.

He took a deep breath.

"Where's the bomb?!"

"I only know the person carrying it is in this car," Conan replied quickly.

Seeing Fujino take him seriously, Conan's usual annoyance lessened slightly.

"The person went to the dining car earlier and came back carrying a black briefcase."

"Black briefcase?" Fujino's eyes immediately scanned the carriage, landing on the professional-looking woman sitting in the corner. The one who had been staring at him earlier.

"It has to be her." Fujino stood up purposefully and walked over to the woman's seat.

"Miss, could you please open your briefcase?" he asked calmly but firmly.

"Why should I?" The woman clutched the briefcase tighter, looking visibly flustered by Fujino's serious demeanor.

"What's inside that briefcase?"

"What are you talking about?" The woman ignored his question, grabbing the briefcase and standing up abruptly, trying to leave.

"Wait!" Fujino grabbed her arm.

"I told you, I'm not interested! Let go of me!" The woman struggled, trying to pull her arm free.

When she couldn't break his grip, she suddenly yelled loudly, adopting the persona of a damsel in distress.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

Just as she'd likely intended, her cries attracted the attention of the surrounding passengers. She pressed her advantage, shouting even louder,

"Help! This man is trying to assault me!"

"What?!"

"In broad daylight? How dare he!"

"I heard that guy's a detective! Can you believe it? What a scumbag!"

Murmurs and condemnations rippled through the carriage as passengers glared accusingly at Fujino.

A female reporter traveling in the same car already had tomorrow's headline forming in her mind: [SHOCKING: Young Detective Accused of Assaulting Woman on Bullet Train! Is This a Distortion of Human Nature or Moral Decay? The Fight for Women's Rights...]