Behind the wheel of a stolen black van, Ren Kuroda, now masked and disguised under his alias Azuma, floored the accelerator.The tires screamed across the asphalt as he swerved away from the crime scene—Fujie Akiyoshi's body now lying broken behind him.
In the rearview mirror, a flicker of motion caught his eye.A small figure on a skateboard was closing the distance fast.
"Huh?" Ren blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
It was Conan Edogawa, chasing him down—on that ridiculous solar-powered skateboard.Ren's brows twitched.
I'm doing seventy kilometers an hour, he thought incredulously. How in the world is that kid keeping up?
He couldn't help a mental rant. Agasa-hakase, if you ever mass-produce that thing, every salaryman in Tokyo will buy one. You'd be richer than half the mystery writers in this city.
Still half amused, Ren reached into his jacket, pulled out his Glock, and aimed through the rearview mirror at Conan's board.
The first shot cracked through the night—
—but to his astonishment, the kid swerved, twisting left and right with impossible precision, every bullet whistling harmlessly past him.
"What the hell—?!" Ren's eyes widened. "You're dodging bullets now?"
He gritted his teeth. "No way. Must be luck. Let's test that."
This time he spun the gun around and fired directly through the side window—rapid bursts, perfectly aimed.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Conan shifted his weight, slid up onto the sidewalk, and—was that a wall ride?—zipped along a building façade before dropping back onto the road, still tailing the van like nothing happened.
Ren nearly choked. "You've got to be kidding me! You shrink one size and suddenly you're Neo from The Matrix?!"
Cursing, he slammed the wheel and reached for his next weapon. With a flick of his teeth, he pulled the pin from a grenade.
"Let's see you dodge this, smart guy."
He lobbed it out the window.
"Crap!" Conan's eyes went wide. The grenade hit the pavement—and exploded.
BOOM!
A cloud of fire and smoke swallowed the road. For a split second, Ren thought that was the end of it.
Then—
Out of the smoke came a blur.
Conan shot through the haze, coughing but alive—only to see a red car barreling toward him head-on.
"Damn it!" He clenched his jaw, kicked down on the tail of the skateboard, and yanked the front upward—launching himself into the air.
The board struck the hood, skated up the windshield, and vaulted over the car.
Ren's jaw dropped. "What. The. Actual. Hell."
Someone call Newton.Dig him up and make him explain how this still qualifies as physics!
For a split second, he genuinely wondered if Shinichi Kudo was the "junior form," and Conan Edogawa the final evolution.
He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, "And here I thought my system was busted… guess the real cheat code's that brat."
Then—finally—karma intervened.
After his dramatic leap, Conan smacked headfirst into a giant billboard with a loud thud, followed by a miserable "Aaaagh!" as he plummeted to the pavement.
Ren burst out laughing. "Hah! So you can mess up! Thought you were invincible for a second there."
He turned the wheel sharply, steering straight toward the fallen detective.
"Ugh… that hurts…" Conan groaned, rubbing his head as he staggered upright. "If it weren't for that smoke and the cars blocking my view, I'd never have hit that sign…"
He bent down to grab his skateboard—just as the black van screeched to a stop beside him.
"Thanks," a cold voice said from the driver's seat.
Ren leaned over, reached out through the window, and snatched the skateboard clean from Conan's hands.
"Hey—!" Conan froze. His eyes widened as he looked up at the masked man behind the wheel—recognizing him instantly.
The infamous outlaw. Azuma.
So much for any thought of negotiating a peaceful surrender.This was the guy who'd once fired a rocket launcher in broad daylight.
"You've got a good board," Ren said casually, examining the gadget with interest. "I'll be taking this."
He tossed it onto the passenger seat, satisfied. "Don't worry, I'll pay you back."
Then, with perfect comedic timing, he tossed his Glock out the window, landing it in Conan's arms. "Fair trade."
Before the boy could speak, Ren hit the gas and sped off into the distance.
Conan stood there speechless, fists trembling, eyes blazing with fury.He burned the criminal's face into his memory—every line, every scar.
When the roar of the van finally faded, he exhaled sharply and looked down at the gun lying at his feet.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Ten minutes later, Conan finally made it back to the scene of the accident.
Police cars and ambulances were already there, lights flashing red and blue across the street.
He arrived just in time to see medics zipping up Fujie Akiyoshi's body bag.There was no mistaking it—he was gone.
"Conan!" Kogoro Mouri spotted him immediately and hurried over. He frowned at the sight of scrapes on the boy's arms. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Conan said quickly. "Just a few scratches."
Kogoro's next question was sharp. "Did you get the license plate?"
"I did… but it won't help." Conan's face hardened. "The driver was Azuma."
"What—?! That guy?!" Kogoro's jaw dropped.
He immediately waved over Inspector Megure, who had just arrived, urging Conan to explain everything.
But Conan hesitated, mumbling half-answers. The bullet holes and blast marks along the street told the rest of the story.
As Kogoro pieced it together, his expression darkened. "Wait a damn minute… you mean to tell me you chased a gunman down the road on a skateboard?!"
Conan froze. "Uh—"
Kogoro's temper exploded. He grabbed the kid, flipped him over his knee, and smacked him hard.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The sound echoed through the night.
"OW—OW—OW! Stop! Stop! What are you doing?!" Conan yelped, flailing.
Ran came running, panic written all over her face. "Dad! What are you doing?! Why are you hitting Conan?!"
Kogoro roared, "This little maniac just reenacted Fast & Furious with a wanted criminal! That lunatic shot at him with a real gun! You hear me?! A gun!"
"If that guy's aim were any better, this brat would be Swiss cheese by now!"
From somewhere unseen, Ren—listening through his commlink—felt personally offended. Excuse me? "Bad aim"?
He gritted his teeth. My shooting's perfect. The problem's that demon-spawn skateboard!
Ran froze mid-step. "Wait, what?! Conan was being shot at?!"
She'd come in ready to scold her father, but now she was just as furious. "You reckless idiot! What were you thinking, putting your life on the line like that?!"
Now even she was on Kogoro's side.
With every loud smack and every horrified onlooker gathering to watch, Conan's spirit withered.
In desperation, he turned his head toward Ren—who had just strolled back onto the scene, perfectly calm.
"Ren-nii! Help me! Please! I swear I'll never do it again!"
Ren raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. "Mouri-san, hold up a second."
Conan's eyes lit up with relief. Finally—someone reasonable!
Then Ren added smoothly, "You'll get better results if you use your belt instead."
"Excellent idea!" Kogoro said immediately, unbuckling it with a loud snap.
"Wait—WAIT, NO—!!!"
The next few seconds were filled with Conan's anguished cries and the rhythmic whap-whap-whap of justice.
Under the flashing police lights, the great detective's apprentice learned that night what true pain—and true comedy—felt like.