Teitan High School looked like a completely ordinary Japanese high school.
Of course, Karasawa didn't really know what a "normal" Japanese high school was supposed to look like. But as long as no PE teacher with a giant nose came running up to slam his face into the ground with some wild Persona 5-level plot twist, he figured this place could pass for "normal."
It was a day off. No students were around. The campus was still and quiet.
Karasawa pulled a black folder from his bag and handed its contents—several official documents—to Tooru Amuro. With Amuro leading the way, they went from one office to another: filling out forms, bowing, stamping papers, more bowing, more forms. Rinse and repeat.
Given Karasawa Akira's… complicated situation, this transfer process was far messier than usual. His previous academic record had essentially vanished along with his expulsion. Form after form needed to be filed—just the paperwork alone took over an hour.
The silver lining? He'd finally managed to get some information about the original owner of this body. Some of the fields in the forms had already been pre-filled.
His father's name was Karasawa Ichikawa, and his mother was Karasawa Leona. No surprise—he was mixed.
Their family was based in Kyoto—which he'd already guessed, considering the JR train ticket stub he'd found in his bag going from Kyoto to Tokyo. Age: 18. Previously enrolled at Izumishin High School in Kyoto.
…That name rang a bell, but whatever. He was now living under the same roof as Conan. Tooru Amuro was his legal guardian. Could things even get more ridiculous at this point? Honestly, he was curious to see how far this could go.
It wasn't until he saw the names of his parents on the forms that he remembered what they looked like.
He still had no memories of their interactions—but he recalled now that the Karasawa couple were scholars who lived abroad. They'd left Akira behind in Japan for school, and their relationship was distant at best.
Even when Akira had gotten into a criminal case, his parents hadn't come back to deal with it themselves. They'd hired a lawyer and gave full proxy authority instead. Akira was sentenced in a case entirely orchestrated by unfamiliar adults, without a chance to fight back.
…Unbelievable.
After signing the last document, Karasawa stared at the paper, the names of his parents staring back at him, the thin sheet crinkling slightly under his fingers.
From his perspective now, the whole case was hardly a carefully planned conspiracy. It was sloppy, brutal, and effective. A few false testimonies, some fabricated evidence, and boom—the case was closed.
There wasn't even a need for subtlety. His guardian never showed up. He was just a kid, no voice, no resources, and even the law meant to protect minors ended up shielding the case from public scrutiny. Crushing a high schooler like that? Too easy.
And if the Black Organization was involved… then the truth might be even murkier. Who could even say where his parents were now—or if they were still alive?
"What's wrong? Something wrong with the forms?" Amuro asked as they stepped out of the principal's office, noticing Karasawa zoning out while still holding the documents.
"No, it's fine. All done." Karasawa forced a calm tone, though his expression clearly screamed Something's definitely wrong. "Thanks for running around all day for me. I really appreciate it."
Amuro took the thick stack of forms from him and smiled warmly. "I agreed to be your guardian. This is just part of the job. No need to thank me."
"Part of the job as a guardian, huh…" Karasawa murmured.
Of course, Amuro heard him.
By now, Amuro had fully embraced Karasawa's persona—the kid abandoned by family and society, emotionally closed off, possibly even a bit twisted. The subtext wasn't lost on him.
What a pitiful boy, Amuro thought, knowing the full story.
What a pitiful boy, Karasawa thought, knowing none of it.
Two nesting-doll personas aligned in silent agreement and walked out of the school in perfect harmony.
"Here's the key to the café, and this one's for the attic. The café will stay open as usual, so make sure to lock the attic when you go out. Safety first."
By the time they returned to the café, it was nearly closing. After tidying up and prepping to lock up, Amuro handed Karasawa the two keys and gave him a quick rundown.
Karasawa was listening—at first. But then his mind started to drift.
Because coming from the opposite direction were two figures, one tall and one short, their shadows stretched long by the setting sun.
The taller one was a slender girl with gentle features and waist-length black hair. The shorter one… was a little boy in a sharp blue suit, red bowtie, and oversized glasses.
They were walking hand in hand. As they passed Karasawa and Amuro, they turned to go up the stairs beside Café Poirot.
…Yup. No mistaking it.
Karasawa revised his earlier assumption.
It wasn't that Shinichi Kudo hadn't been knocked out yet and the Black Org had just popped up early on his end.
Nope.
Shinichi was getting knocked out right now, while the Black Org was surfacing simultaneously in Karasawa's story arc.
So today really was the beginning of the Conan plotline. When he'd woken up on the train earlier, Shinichi was probably just walking into Tropical Land.
Only after the two disappeared upstairs did Karasawa refocus and take the keys from Amuro.
"Go on up and get settled. Rest well." Seeing Karasawa fumble with the keys, trying to figure out how to string them together, Amuro had the sudden urge to ruffle his soft hair.
Karasawa dodged like a reflex.
What the hell, Bourbon? Go ahead and play your part, but stop trying to touch people's heads!
Amuro blinked, then gave him a curious look. "Quick reflexes, huh."
Karasawa wanted to retort with something like, "Touching heads stunts growth," but it didn't quite fit the persona he was building, so he swallowed it and just walked into the café.
"I'll head up now."
"Rest well. See you tomorrow, Karasawa-kun." Amuro watched him slowly ascend the stairs. The smile on his face faded.
He turned and headed for his car, pulling out his phone.
[Contact initiated as planned. No sign of the referenced documents in the target's personal belongings or luggage. Proceed with the original plan?]
After sending it, he opened another secure, encrypted mail channel.
[Any updates from Kyoto PD? How much detail have they uncovered about Karasawa Akira's case?]
He ran a quick check on the car—any bugs or signal jammers? All clear. Only then did he open the Mazda RX-7's door and slide into the driver's seat.
He started the engine, eyes still on the darkened Café Poirot while waiting for replies.
Only a faint warm light glowed from the stairs behind the bar. The upstairs door must've been shut—he couldn't see what Karasawa was doing.
Karasawa Akira. A special case. A juvenile offender.
Juvenile offenders with charges like "aggravated assault" were rare—such sentences usually implied violent, serious crimes even among minors.
But in his case, the sentence included "protective observation" and a transfer from Kansai to Tokyo. Was that even legal?
Worse yet, he was being targeted by the Organization. How much of this case had been manipulated behind the scenes?
Had the police and prosecutors already been infiltrated that deeply?
Just then, both replies arrived.
[Stay the course. Maintain close contact and observation. He may be the only one with knowledge of the documents' whereabouts. Monitor his social interactions. Unless you're absolutely certain you won't alert the authorities, do not initiate interrogation.]
[Kyoto Police have nothing new. Officers Ishiki Ichiro and Sato Ken are listed as handling the case, but both deny involvement. For now, Karasawa remains the most viable lead.]
Amuro read the messages and shook his head, deleting them one by one.
"What a troublesome kid. Just how did a student end up in a mess this big?"
He sifted through all the information he had, struggling to make sense of it. "Why is the Organization targeting him in the first place?"
Still… this was a chance.
Whatever the Organization wanted from him, whatever that document was—it might be the key to finally understanding their true objectives and structure.
"Let's hope we both get lucky, Karasawa-kun." Amuro muttered as he stepped on the gas.
The overworked triple-agent had more tasks waiting at home.