"Take off your pants first."
Fujino held a large syringe in his left hand, reaching forward with his right as if to yank down Conan's shorts.
"Wait! Why are you pulling my pants off?!"
Conan's eyes widened in panic at Fujino's low murmur.
He was shot in the stomach—why the heck was Fujino going for his pants?!
"To inject adrenaline, obviously," Fujino said matter-of-factly. "Given your condition, your butt's the best spot."
He wasn't some creep—this was legit. He didn't have proper hemostatic drugs on hand, and standard methods wouldn't slow arterial bleeding in the abdomen. Adrenaline would constrict the artery walls temporarily to buy time.
With his medical profession buffs, this level of bleeding was manageable. Conan could hold on for hours without croaking.
"Uh-huh!" the kids nearby nodded eagerly. "When I had a cold, I got a shot in the butt too!"
"That's totally different!" Conan groaned internally, casting a desperate, pleading look at Haihara and Dr. Agasa. *Help me!*
Haihara: "…"
She turned away, stone-cold.
"Con—er, Conan…" Dr. Agasa almost slipped up with "Kudo" but caught himself. After a pause, he sighed helplessly. "Just take them off and let Fujino do it. If you lose too much blood and go into shock, we're in trouble."
"Exactly," Fujino said, prepping the syringe. "You'll definitely pass out if we don't stop the bleeding. I've got a heavy hand, so brace yourself."
Conan: "…"
He was a seventeen-year-old high school detective!
Getting seen naked by elementary schoolers?!
*I'd rather die than be exposed like this!*
---
A gentle breeze blew under the setting sun, bringing a touch of coolness.
[Host detected performing medical treatment. System White-Coat Angel skill activated: 100% healing boost, 100% mental recovery bonus.]
[Host detected performing medical treatment. System auto-reward: 200 Good Doctor profession proficiency points.]
Two system prompts chimed in Fujino's ears.
He hefted his med kit and stood, only to hear Ayumi's worried voice. "How's Conan? Why isn't he talking?"
"I gave him adrenaline. He should be fine now," Fujino said, glancing at Conan. He knew exactly why the kid was silent but kept his tone neutral. "He's probably just dazed from blood loss."
"Oh, okay…" Ayumi didn't quite get it but nodded anyway, peering at Conan.
Conan lay on a blanket, bandages wrapped around his waist. His face was calm, eyes fixed on the sunset, but they lacked their usual spark—like he'd checked out of reality.
*Seen by an elementary schooler… by Ayumi, no less…*
Conan: *LifeIsOver.jpg*
---
Minutes later, Inspector Megure rolled up with a full squad.
Conan was loaded onto an ambulance—whether from blood loss or Fujino's adrenaline jab, he looked out of it.
The three crooks were dealt with: one to the morgue, two to the station for questioning.
"Ha-ha-ha!"
A shrill laugh echoed through the forest.
Megure glanced at the long-haired guy cackling as he was shoved into a squad car, then turned to Fujino, baffled. "What's up with him?"
"Probably lost it after killing his buddy," Fujino said with a shrug. "People these days have such weak mental fortitude."
"Didn't you bash him with your wooden sword…?" Megure muttered under his breath.
After a beat, he asked, "By the way, where's the gun that mushroom-head used on Conan? We didn't find it in the search."
"Oh, right!" Fujino perked up like he'd just remembered. He pulled a handgun from his pocket and handed it over with a sheepish grin. "I nabbed this off him when I knocked him out. Slipped my mind—almost forgot to turn it in!"
Megure: "…"
If he hadn't asked, would Fujino have kept it?
This guy had a sneaky streak.
But Megure quickly tossed that thought aside. A brave, kind soul like Fujino wouldn't pocket evidence.
He eyed Fujino's bulletproof vest. Even if he wanted a gun, he'd probably just ask Megure for one.
Yeah, definitely overthinking it.
---
The Detective Boys tagged along with Conan to Mihama General Hospital, while Fujino drove back to the station with Megure to give a statement.
A death during the operation made skipping the report tricky.
Luckily, Fujino had prepped—er, polished—his story beforehand, so it went smoothly. Plus, with his old pal Officer Sato Miwako taking it, they wrapped up in under an hour.
At the station's parking lot, Fujino stepped out the back door, waving to Sato before heading to his car.
"Statements are such a hassle…" he grumbled, stretching.
Just as he reached for the door, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from Haihara: [How'd the statement go?]
Fujino tapped back: [Sato handled it—done now. How's it going over there?]
Haihara replied moments later: [Edogawa's out of surgery. The hospital ran out of his blood type, but the girl across from us matched, so it worked out.]
"The girl across… Ran?" Fujino murmured, staring at the screen. "Guess Conan's cover's blown with her again."
In his memory, Ran donating blood meant she suspected Conan was Shinichi—betting on their matching blood types.
And, with her *Conan*-style luck, she nailed it, indirectly confirming Conan was Shinichi.
Fujino wasn't worried about Conan's secret spilling, though.
Strictly speaking, he didn't care—Conan's exposure didn't affect him much.
---
Night deepened at Mihama General Hospital.
Fujino: [I'm heading over. What do you want for dinner?]
Haihara: [Let's ask Akemi-nee later—dunno if she's eaten.]
Fujino: [Just called her. She ate at Café Poirot across the street already.]
Haihara's tiny fingers flew across her phone: [Then you pick when we get home (lol).]
She pocketed her phone, her calm gaze drifting to Ran, who sat by Conan's bed, staring at him.
Her eyes didn't look at him like a kid.
"Identity figured out?" Haihara mused, studying Ran.
If she had to guess, Ran had clocked Shinichi's true self.
"Let's hope Kudo doesn't do anything dumb when he wakes up," she thought.
"The organization… anyone dragged into it ends up miserable…"
Her mind flickered to Fujino.
She wasn't sure if he'd pieced together her own identity. What then?
She was certain he was the white-robed figure from rumors—the one who'd saved her that night at the hotel. But beyond that? Uncertainty.
Why did he know she was in danger? Did he know about the organization?
It was all a foggy riddle weighing on her.
One thing she knew: until she was sure what Fujino knew, she wouldn't spill her secrets.
Sticking by him, keeping things as they were—that was all she could do, adrift in the endless night.
---
Fujino drove to Mihama General Hospital.
A car explosion on the way caused a jam, wasting time.
He parked in the crowded lot and stepped out, facing a towering white building over ten stories high.
"No matter the era, hospitals are always loaded…" he muttered.
"Move aside!"
A woman's voice snapped behind him.
Fujino dodged as a nurse rushed past with a stretcher.
"Severe trauma, fractures, third-degree burns… Car crash? Or blown up?" he analyzed the man in a brown trench coat, then frowned.
That outfit looked familiar—like the animal-themed group.
*Did they just bomb someone? Are they targeting cars now?*
"No wonder traffic's been a nightmare lately," he mumbled, pulling out his phone to check Haihara's text: Room 221, second floor.
"221… 221B?"
He snorted. "Of course Conan lands in a Sherlock Holmes-style room number."
He found Room 221 fast.
Pushing the door open, he saw the group gathered inside.
Ran sat by the bed, worry etched on her face—her eyes hinting she'd figured Conan out.
Fujino reached the same conclusion as Haihara.
"Uncle Mouri, Ran," he greeted, glancing at the closed-eyed Conan. "How's he doing?"
"He's out of danger," Ran said, standing and bowing slightly. "I heard about your first aid, senpai. The doctor said it was perfectly timed. If anything happened to him, I… I wouldn't know how to face his family."
She caught herself mid-sentence, adjusting her words.
"No big deal," Fujino waved it off.
He hadn't done it for free—200 Good Doctor points were a nice bonus.
"Yawn~"
As night deepened, the Detective Boys let out sleepy yawns in sync.
"You kids tired?" Dr. Agasa asked. "I'll take you home."
"No way!"
"We're not sleepy!"
"We're staying with Conan!" they protested stubbornly.
"Conan needs rest now," Dr. Agasa said. "You can come back tomorrow."
"If you don't head home, your parents will worry," Haihara added, tugging Fujino's sleeve. "Let's go too."
---
Fujino's Ford Taurus cruised Tokyo's highways.
He glanced at Haihara in the passenger seat. "Ai, how about we eat out tonight?"
"It's getting late, and cooking's a hassle. Eating out sounds good," she said, checking the time on her phone. "I read about a Chinese place nearby in a food mag. Decent reviews. Wanna try it?"
"Chinese? Let's check it out."
Following her directions, Fujino drove to Yang's Kitchen, a cozy spot with wooden decor, red tones, and a faux-Chinese vibe.
They stepped inside, greeted warmly by a waiter in a vest.
"Huh?!"
A surprised gasp came from the side as they moved to sit.
Fujino turned to see a group of oddball guys staring at him.
A chubby one waddled over. "Are you *the* Detective Fujino?"
"Do I know you?" Fujino squinted, sizing up the guy. No recollection.
The man wore an orange jacket, jeans, and had wavy hair, a goatee, and a greasy middle-manager-from-a-comedy vibe.
"My bad, my bad!" The guy fumbled for a business card and handed it over. "Shiro Kawabata, film producer."
Fujino glanced at it—legit—then asked, "What's up, Mr. Kawabata?"
"I've got a little favor to ask…" Kawabata grinned. "Care to join us? Dinner's on me, of course."
(Chapter End)