"Mr. Amuro, do you have a wish?"
Toru Amuro paused mid-motion, then looked at Kazawa with visible confusion. "Huh? What kind of weird question is that?"
Kazawa leaned in, undeterred. "So? Do you?"
"Everyone has wishes, right? Isn't that normal?" Amuro threw down the damp towel he'd used to wipe his hands, clearly unimpressed. "Stop changing the subject. I was the one asking first—what were you and Conan talking about this afternoon?"
Kazawa hadn't gone with them, but ever since Joker's appearance, poor Kazami had spent another whole day chasing down news reports. Even though the information wasn't as sensitive as Kazawa-related leaks that needed deleting one by one, the aftermath of the Italian robbery case—especially the missing fortune—was still a huge headache.
So now, seeing Kazawa and Conan whispering to each other, Amuro couldn't help but raise his guard.
"We were just talking about the Full Paradise game launch event," Kazawa said smoothly, spinning lies like a natural. "He thinks Joker might show up, so he was seriously discussing how to protect Miss Mouri."
"Joker might go?" Amuro frowned. Considering Conan had already faced Joker twice, he took the warning seriously. "Did he find something?"
Kazawa shrugged. "Just a possibility. Kids tend to overthink, right? Maybe he just said it to get your approval for me to attend."
Amuro raised a brow, clearly not buying it.
Regardless of where Conan got his intel, the first step was to tell Kazami to prep a team for crowd control tomorrow.
"I answered your question, so now it's your turn." Kazawa inched even closer, still fixated. "What's your wish?"
"Did you take one of those weird personality tests online?" Amuro shook his head.
Still… a wish, huh?
He dried his hands, sliced some ham and toast, and assembled a sandwich. As he worked, fragmented memories flashed through his mind—so quickly that even he couldn't fully grasp them.
Of course he had wishes. Dreams, reality, regret, pain—no one escapes those.
The life of a triple-faced man had given him a fractured identity, more dreams than most… and more regrets, too.
His face gave nothing away, but a faint smile tugged at his lips—nostalgic, wistful. "My wish? It's world peace."
If there were no underground organizations, no crime, no hatred—his life would've been completely different.
But Amuro wasn't someone who liked to daydream. He didn't forget the past, but he refused to be trapped by it. He bore it on his shoulders and moved forward.
"That's a pretty impressive dream," Kazawa observed, studying his expression carefully before smiling. "It's rare for someone to still have such a pure wish after growing up."
Amuro narrowed his eyes, immediately sensing the sarcasm. "...Are you saying I'm childish?"
"Nope, I genuinely admire you." Kazawa raised his hands innocently.
Amuro gave him a sideways glance, then shoved the sandwich toward him. "Shut up and eat."
Then he turned away to grab his phone and start drafting a new task order for Kazami.
Kazawa took a bite of his sandwich—and picked up his phone too.
What kind of force would be strong enough to scar someone… or strong enough to become their wish?
For Zero—for Toru Amuro—what would that be?
He wasn't remorseful. He wasn't resentful. He drew strength from his pain and pushed forward—so that meant…
Kazawa started typing.
Name: Zero
Location: Café Polo
Navigation Target: Cinema
A low female voice came from his phone's nearly-muted speaker.
"Location locked."
Kazawa squinted and smiled, then locked the screen without activating the cross-world navigation.
He always loved that feeling of slotting a perfect puzzle piece into place. It was exhilarating.
———
"Wow…" Kazawa stood in front of the giant promotional banner, letting out a vague sound of awe.
Conan twitched. "Who's that handsome guy? What's he got to do with Uncle Mouri?"
Next to him, Sonoko Suzuki nodded in firm agreement, glaring at the pale and nauseated Mouri Kogoro who was leaning against the wall for support.
Ran let out a helpless sigh. "Dad, are you sure you're okay to attend this event?"
Mouri Kogoro, clearly hungover, insisted stubbornly, "I'm fine!"
"You didn't take the hangover remedy?" Kazawa also sighed. Ever since his first visit to the Mouri Detective Agency, he'd passed along his usual hangover recipe to Ran. If the old man had actually taken it, he wouldn't be this close to vomiting.
"Why would I need a hangover remedy? I only had five or six drinks… ugh…" Mouri Kogoro groaned, holding his stomach.
"Right, five or six drinks of gin, vodka, and whiskey mixed together." Conan quipped. "Might've been better if you'd just stuck to one and downed the whole bottle. You wouldn't be this messed up."
"Why does he like alcohol so much?" Ran mumbled in frustration, handing him a bottle of water. "Is it really that good?"
Kazawa suddenly felt guilty, his eyes darting around as he cleared his throat and looked back at the banner. "Detective Mouri's Deduction Hall… Looks pretty impressive."
Sonoko stared at the dramatically handsome middle-aged man in the print, clicking her tongue. "Didn't he oversee the visuals himself? This looks nothing like him."
The guy in the poster was dashing and focused. The real man was barely keeping it together. Total fraud.
"Alright, let's get inside and check our bags," Kazawa said, understanding her disappointment. He patted her shoulder. "More people are coming in. If we wait, the lines will be a nightmare."
Sonoko turned and caught sight of Kazawa's face. Her attitude softened instantly. She edged a bit closer. "You're right… Carrying bags around the venue is a pain, especially if you wanna walk the whole game experience zone."
Ran supported her still-sick dad. Conan stuck his hands in his pockets and followed behind Kazawa and Sonoko. The group merged with the crowd and got in line at the bag drop counter.
"Is that Mr. Mouri?" Right before their turn, a voice called out. Mouri Kogoro turned to see a group of neatly dressed office workers in suits, identical badge clips on their ties, squeezing into the line.
He recognized one of them, but couldn't recall the name right away. "You are…?"
"I'm Nakashima—Hideaki Nakashima. I was in charge of planning your game." Nakashima beamed.
"Oh, right! We met at the planning meeting," Mouri Kogoro nodded in recognition.
"Here's your locker number," the attendant said, handing over tag #96 as Kazawa handed off his daily commute bag. He shifted his shoulder slightly, clearly not used to being without it.
"Nakashima, stop chatting!" A colleague with glasses smacked him on the back. "If we don't get inside now, we won't have time to set up the booth. The event starts in twenty minutes."
"Ah—sorry, sorry." Nakashima threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder, then turned back smiling. "Mr. Mouri, would you mind letting us cut in line? Please, the president's already on the way."
Seeing the sweat-drenched faces of the team behind Nakashima, Mouri Kogoro shrugged and let them pass.
Three identical boxes were placed on the counter.
The attendant logged each one and, noticing the copy-paste design, kindly reminded them, "Please double-check your tag numbers so you don't mix them up."
The group all turned toward the three near-identical bags.
Everyone else just seemed intrigued by the matching bags—but Kazawa… his gaze held a flicker of respect.
There it was: a classic Mikawa special. Hand-crafted briefcase bomb. Powerful blast, huge range, enough to shred an eight-foot brute and punch through concrete bathroom walls. And it all fit inside a single office case.
Kazawa mused silently—maybe the Organization should try recruiting whoever built this thing. With skills like that, they'd get along great with Gin.