( ̄ー ̄)ゞ

Juzou burst from the stairwell, charging down the hall with Shiratori and Chiba on his heels. He knew exactly which room was Kuroha's, and Takagi and Sato were not standing guard in front of it. "Find them!" He barked at the two behind him. They broke off with a short, "Yes, sir!" leaving Juzou to face whatever lay on the other side of that door on his own.

Taking his gun from its holster, he kicked the door open. "Police! Nobody move!" he bellowed.

A young voice sliced through the air. "Don't shoot!" shouted Conan, his cry pitched lower with a warning.

Juzou kept his gun level just to be safe. "Conan-kun? What the—"

Mouri's voice came next. "Keibu-dono. We're all safe. Put your gun away."

Juzou hesitated, scanning the room. Two people, a nurse and a woman dressed in black, were tied together, unconscious. Mouri was on the floor, leaning against the wall as Conan crouched at his side. Mouri clutched his torso, his breathing labored, his suit jacket laying beside him on the ground. Conan was dressed in all black, almost indiscernible in the dimly lit room were it not for his glasses. The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating the nasty bruise that was blossoming on the side of the boy's neck and shielding his expression as it reflected off his glasses. "Please," Mouri wheezed.

Juzou relented, hesitantly lowering his gun to his side. "What— what happened here?" he asked, staggering forward, baffled at the scene before him. "Who are they?" He gave the two who were tied together a wary glance.

Conan rose to his full stature and stepped forward. "They attacked Kuroha-keiji," he said, and Juzou was struck by how different Conan sounded from the day before. Yesterday, he'd been childish and skittish, hesitation and reluctance hiding the boy's true intellect, but now, Conan looked Juzou in the eye, speaking firmly with an authority that had been absent yesterday. "Occhan knocked out the nurse and then took out the woman when she showed up a few moments later."

"He's right," Kuroha rasped, his voice startling Juzou. "I'm alive thanks to Mouri-tantei."

With a nod, Juzou gave the intruders a wide berth and crouched in front of Mouri. "You okay? You look terrible."

"Cracked ribs," Conan answered for Mouri. "He's got some bruises, too. The faker nurse didn't hold back." Conan's gaze never left the intruders.

From the hallway came Shiratori, shoving a woman in handcuffs into the room. She was vaguely familiar, though her somewhat backlit figure made it harder to see her face. Juzou wished he had flicked on the lights when he'd entered. "Megure-keibu, I found this woman. She was acting suspiciously and said Conan-kun called her here," he said harshly. "Which is ridiculous in its own right because Conan-kun isn't—"

Conan lifted a hand and waved. "Jodie-sensei, thanks for coming," he said. "Shiratori-keibu, thanks for bringing her here."

Shiratori's gaped like a fish, looking down at Conan with disbelief. "C— Conan-kun? What are you doing here?"

Kuroha laughed from his bed, the sound a pitiful wheeze. "Defending my honor, Shiratori-san."

Conan rolled his eyes at the officer as he answered Shiratori's question. "Occhan had a bad feeling about Kuroha-keiji, so he came here to make sure everything was alright. I followed him since Kuroha-keiji is one of Ran-neechan's friends and she'd be sad if he got hurt anymore. We got here just in time to stop them from killing Kuroha-keiji." He looked back at Shiratori. "Can you let Jodie-sensei out of those handcuffs? She's also an FBI agent. You can trust her."

Shiratori hesitated, and Juzou glanced over at Jodie. He remembered her from the few crime scenes she'd appeared at. He trusted Conan's judgement— it seemed sound. He wouldn't invite another one of those men he'd been talking about into Kuroha's room if two of them had already tried and failed. "Do it, Shiratori-kun," he sighed.

"Thanks, Cool Kid." Jodie winked at Conan and held her arms out to Shiratori. "Sorry for the confusion, keibus."

Shiratori took out the handcuff key, shaking his head in discontent. "It's no problem."

Once the handcuffs were off, Jodie rubbed her wrists. "So, who are these peop—"

Conan cut her off, bright, childish tone sounding dissonantly through the hospital room. Juzou shuddered unconsciously, the sharp contrast from seconds ago jarring. "Shiratori-keibu, have you found the people who were guarding this room yet? Are they okay?"

Shiratori shook his head, frowning. "With your permission, I'm going to help Chiba-kun look," he said to Juzou.

Juzou nodded firmly, rising to his feet. "Go. Once you find them, radio me and get them treatment."

Saluting sharply, Shiratori eyed Jodie suspiciously one last time before he ran off.

No one spoke for a few moments, only the beeping of the monitors, Mouri's labored breathing, and Kuroha's gritty rasps sounded in the room.

Conan broke the silence. "Jodie-sensei, please close the door behind you. Turn on the light, if you would." Gone was his childish phrasing, the immature inflections.

Once Jodie had done as he asked, Conan continued. "Jodie-sensei, please take these men to James-san. They're of Those people," he said, weighing his words with meaning.

At once, Juzou understood. His officer had been attacked by the men Conan had spoken of. Despite his best efforts, Juzou had let it fall to his old friend and a child to defend one of his own. He gritted his teeth. He felt useless against these people. He knew nothing of them, no way to know when to strike and when to defend, or even how to attack or hold his ground. He felt like he was in a minefield, only recently made aware of the ground laced with explosives at any turn. One wrong move would blow him to kingdom come, and he had no way of knowing if a step in any given direction was a safe one or not.

"They won't let these people be taken," Jodie cautioned. "You remember the last situation like this. People died."

"I know," said Conan gravely. "Your people are the only ones I can trust to do this, though." He pointed to Juzou."He doesn't know anything about this. He'll die if I let him take Them."

"Hey now," Juzou protested indignantly.

Jodie cut him off sharply. " Cool Kid is right. You don't know how to handle them. We do. Stay in your territory, keibu-san."

Juzou growled. "I've stumbled into yours, fine, but I'm not leaving. Tell me how to handle them or I arrest you for obstruction of justice. These two attacked my officer on my watch and I'll be damned if I let that happen again."

Jodie's stare was ice. "There's no going back."

Juzou held firm. "I know."

For a tense moment, neither moved, holding each other's stare firmly, refusing to back down. Juzou blinked once. He stared her down. He was not going to let anyone else get hurt, not on his watch.

Jodie huffed and looked away. "Fine." She looked past Juzou to Conan, taking a step towards the two intruders. "You have a plan?"

"Yes. Multiple moving parts, none of them safer than another," the boy said grimly, efficiently. "Call James-san here first, and gather about five more agents than you have here. I need to make a call myself. Megure-keibu, get a nurse here for occhan. Once we're all finished, meet back here."

Mouri coughed. "Brat, you better not be thinking I'm sitting out of this one."

The boy was callous, brutally honest, wielding truth like a sword to slice down the strings of tenacity that kept Mouri aloft. "You're sitting out. You can't even stand," he said flatly. "The only way you're going to help is by getting a doctor to look at you." Mouri deflated with grumbled curse words, grimacing when his ribs bit back in painful protest.

Juzou frowned. "Speaking of doctors, someone should have heard this commotion by now."

Conan gave the pair another wary, sidelong glance. "These people likely looped the cameras. People were already avoiding this room thanks to the police guard. Doctors know they're not allowed into this room without special permission. If I'm correct, you sealed off the entire corridor?" Juzou nodded in confirmation, and Conan's expression darkened further. "They used it to their advantage. They wanted to kill Kuroha without anyone interfering. They believed we played right into their hands."

Jodie crouched down, examining the two imposters. "And what's to say we haven't? These two might be playing possum, waiting to attack the first chance they get, or they could be bugged, relaying information to their superiors as we speak."

Juzou looked to Conan for the boy's answer and was greeted with a chilling, knowing smile. "Then the game is afoot, and the performance has begun," he said, staring ahead at something no one else could see. "The players must move into place, or the Organization will have another victory to their name."

Jodie crossed her arms, her expression darkening. "If we fail tonight, the organization will know you're onto them," she said. Juzou wasn't sure who it was directed at until he saw Conan's smile, frozen on his face. "And then we're all done for."

Mouri coughed from his place on the floor. "Then don't."

Conan blinked, met Mouri's eyes, and nodded. "We won't." He said it so firmly that all Juzou could do was believe him.

( ̄ー ̄)ゞ

Once Takagi and Sato were found, Juzou left Shiratori to watch two intruders and Chiba to Mouri, Takagi, and Sato.

After Conan and Jodie had left to make their calls, it was Jodie who made it back first, a determined frown set on her face and confidence in her stride that matched Sato's. She had been dressed for confrontation tonight, Juzou realized as she re-entered. The light blue collared shirt she wore seemed to allow ease of movement and matched the coloration of the hospital walls. Black trainers laced firmly on her feet must have been coordinated to the black rubber molding that ran against the bottom of the wall, and a dark, sturdy pair of jeans that hung just loose enough on her legs were the same color as the lower half of the wall's design. Over top of her shirt, she wore a dark coat, and Juzou could guess what the lump at the back of her waistband was. He pretended to ignore it. The night had been messy enough thus far, and he knew it would only get worse. If he arrested everyone on every law they were breaking, he'd have no one left to deal with this mess.

Jodie greeted Juzou with a nod, tucking her phone away in a coat pocket. "Keibu-san."

Nodding shortly in reciprocation, Juzou glanced at the door. "Where is Conan-kun?"

Jodie gave a little shrug. "He's making his own calls. I don't really know what for, but no one knows exactly what's going on in his mind."

Juzou scowled. "He's just a child. He's not supposed to be fighting off murderers. He shouldn't be at crime scenes. If Mouri-kun didn't drag that kid everywhere, he wouldn't—"

"Conan-kun is one of the brightest minds I have ever encountered," Jodie interrupted, "and that kind of brain can't— it isn't something that anyone can just— make."

Juzou's scowl deepened. She was one of those people. "A kid being smart doesn't mean you expose them to blood and gore for no reason. Conan-kun is six, no one his age should ever have to figure out why one person kills another. There are twisted people in this world. He shouldn't have to see that until he's much older. He needs to stay a child for as long as he can."

Jodie wasn't about to budge, either. "Cool Kid is special," she argued. "He's intelligent, and I don't like the matter of his age any more than you do, but young children his age are impressionable. They pick up on things that we don't. If you push Conan away, there are other people who might just take notice and try to influence him to their cause. Other people, keibu-san," she said harshly, "who favor the color black. Conan-kun is incredibly intelligent. You know as well as I that if he wanted to, he'd get away with murder ten times over." Her eyes were dark, her tone heavy with the implications. Conan? Against the law? The mere thought made Juzou want to laugh.

But Juzou thought of those cases when someone Conan cared for was hurt or targeted. He remembered the fierce demon that swam behind Conan's big eyes that had always seen too much, the way Conan would watch the murderer as they walked away in handcuffs as if they were nothing, nothing at all.

"You're going to protect him," Juzou said, unsure if he was asking or ordering.

Jodie shifted her weight, leaning comfortably back on her heels. "There will always be a place in the FBI for him, even when you shut him out."

"Tokyo takes care of their own," Juzou snapped.

Jodie blinked slowly before meeting Juzou's eyes again. "Could've fooled me." Juzou missed the words muttered bitingly in English, but he understood their meaning well enough.

Puffing out his chest, Juzou drew himself up and shouted, "You American dogs—!"

"Keibu-san! Jodie-kun! Please," came a sharp, cutting command. They looked to the speaker, a tall greying man in a business suit. "We're here to save lives, not make each others' more miserable. Jodie-kun," he said, disappointed, "I expected better of you."

Under the newcomer's critical gaze, Jodie wilted. "Sorry, James."

The man nodded, seemingly satisfied, and held out a hand to Juzou. "I apologize for my subordinate. She is passionate about many things." He gave her another disappointed glance, and her confidence from before evaporated even further. Returning his gaze to Juzo, he continued. "We meet again, Megure-keibu."

"James Black." He shook Black's hand. "You're in charge?"

Black chuckled as though Juzou had said something amusing. Dropping his hand from the handshake, he said, "In title, yes, but I'm not always the brains behind the operations."

As if on cue, Conan walked back in the door, a few agents trailing behind him. "...done that, we'll get to stage four, where—"

"Cool Kid," said Black, "care to enlighten the rest of us?"

Conan looked up at Black, then between Jodie and Juzou. His gaze lingered warily on Juzou just a moment too long, and Juzou suppressed a growl. They were using a child as a tactician. How low they were willing to stoop, just to get what they wanted, disgusted him.

Juzou missed the glitter in Conan's eye as the boy cleared his throat. "Yes. We'll need to move fast. First, Jodie-sensei, we'll take those two in your car and…"

\(^▽^@)ノ

Sonoko blinked, trudging down the stairs. "Subaru-san?" she called drowsily, rubbing her eyes. Someone moving about downstairs startled her awake, but it was only a few moments before she recognized Subaru's gait and heard his voice echo through the ghost town of a mansion. "Are you awake?"

She found him in the kitchen, assembling together a bag of sorts. He zipped it shut with finality before she could see what was inside. She yawned. "What are you doing?"

Subaru hefted the bag onto one shoulder. It looked like a guitar case. "One of my friends needs a ride across town. I owe him one, and he's cashing in."

Nodding sleepily, Sonoko's eyes drifted closed. "When will you be back?" she murmured, sleep overcoming her as quickly as it had gone a few minutes ago.

Subaru patted her head. "By morning. Go back to sleep, Sonoko-chan. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a head flop that could barely be interpreted as a nod, Sonoko put a hand on the kitchen counter and followed it back to the wall, then followed the wall back to the stairwell and back to her room.

When she woke, she would puzzle over a dream with a glasses-less, green-eyed Okiya Subaru. She would forget it by the time she got to school (which isn't to say it would not be recalled at another point in time, though that is a story for a different time).

(??_?) ( ▼ヮ▼)

Conan clenched his fist. "This all depends on you, Kuroha-san. If we can't get in, there are other options, but—"

Kuroha's lips were set in a firm line as he gave Conan a hard look. "How many people die in plan B?"

Conan flinched, but answered steadfastly. "Four."

A thick silence settled across the hospital room. Jodie and James exchanged grimaces with each other as Megure shifted uncomfortably. The four FBI agents who had entered the room with Conan looked at one another, unnerved by the conviction in the boy's answer. Each of them had seen the boy's planning in the Kir operation. This child had gotten Akai killed, and none of the agents were too pleased to think of which of them would die this time.

Kuroha tapped out something on his bedsheet. "Get me a laptop, one that I can wipe once I'm done. Then we're in business."

Conan looked up at Kuroha, a question in his gaze. "You can do it?"

A KID-esque grin stretched across Kuroha's lips. "Tantei-kun, if I couldn't do it, I'd eat my own hat."

Conan nodded, relaxing, and Kuroha realized how tense his tantei-kun had been. "You stay here while we get together the rest of the plan. James-san? Can you get Kuroha-san a laptop?"

James nodded sharply. "Consider it done. What's next?"

Conan's eyes shone again, and he launched into an explanation of the final steps.

( ̄︶ ̄)

Agasa Hiroshi was a quite intelligent man. He surpassed his peers in many aspects of the field of research and his technological advances, but there was only so much he could do. He could multitask only to a degree, and even if he did the results were always questionable.

That was the exact reason Akai Shuichi sat in the driver's seat for the half-an-hour drive to the rendezvous point. Hiroshi was a genius. He could make an EMP bomb with a 10-meter radius in half an hour with no problem.

He could not do that while driving.

Training all his intellect on the task at hand, he carefully soldered two wires together and drew in a breath to steady his hands. If Hiroshi could have spared the brain space for it, he would be worrying about what on earth Shinichi had planned this time.

Gin growled. "Play. It. Again."

The nameless technician licked his lips nervously. "But— but sir, there's—"

Gin did not raise his voice. He did not betray a hint of emotion except for the ice-cold fury that matched the blood in his veins. "Again."

The technician valued his life. "Yes, sir," he said with a visible swallow. He pressed play.

First was the sound of a car door opening, no noise of an engine to be heard. Footsteps were followed by the static of a gust of wind and the distant, distinct groan of a foghorn, water splashing against a solid surface punctuating the first two seconds of the recording. Gin reached over the technician's shoulder and paused it. "That is plenty. A car is involved. They were taken to a windy place where you can hear foghorns and water. A dock. They were at a dock twenty minutes ago, so find out which one, " he ordered fiercely.

"But, sir, I've been looking. Everyone in this room has been searching, but there are multiple docks within two hours of the hospital. Their captors could have looped back or taken an alternate route, we just don't know."

He did not slam his fist on the table. He did not throw the computer across the room. He rose to his full height and stared down at the technician. "Explain."

The technician switched tabs to display a map with dozens of location markers in two different colors dispersed across the map. "There are too many pings in the time before their trackers went offline."

Gin glared. "They are time stamped. Separate them by the nanosecond if you have to."

The technician braced himself. "Sir, this is a single nanosecond."

"The software is faulty. Open it with a different program."

"We've tried every software, sir, the results are the same."

"The trackers were hacked. Root out the faulty ones. They'll have differences in the code."

"Sir, the code is the same in every ping. We've exhausted every situation. There's— there's just no explanation."

Gin did not growl. "Go back to the recording."

The technician obeyed, and Gin pressed play before the technician could blink. A man spoke quietly but his voice was clear, as though he stood directly behind his captives in their final moments.

"Kuroha is mine."

There was a gunshot, a crackle of static, and then silence.

(??_?)

Conan held the bowtie up to his mouth. Jodie had her gun at the ready, Akai at her side, and Agasa stood only a few feet away from the blindfolded Organization members, his EMP armed and ready to be detonated.

The Organization members knelt on the ground, their hands behind their heads. With a silent inhale, Conan gave the signal.

"Kuroha is mine," he said fiercely in Toshima's voice. Jodie fired her gun, and Agasa detonated the EMP. Though the agents shouted in pain as the electronics hidden beneath their skin were fried by the bomb, Conan kept up his hand to signal that silence was to be maintained.

They wouldn't be sure of anything until they got back to the hospital.

The technician swallowed. "That voice belonged to Toshima Kotaro, sir, a deep-cover agent in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Division One. Assigned there by Vermouth, he served as a mole should the need arise. He attempted to kill Kuroha Hikaru, a recent transfer that the rumor mills claimed was Kaitou KID. These claims were investigated and disproved, but Toshima blackmailed one of Cacha?a's direct subordinates into killing Kuroha anyway, sir. Amburana Cacha?a missed on purpose, and Cacha?a forced Toshima to commit suicide three days ago. His body is in the morgue and his death certificate is sound. The man who's speaking has been dead, sir."

He did not clench his fist. "They used a recording."

"We scanned for that, sir, a hundred times over. The voice is organic, with negligible traces of electronic fabrication."

"You say negligible. That doesn't mean none."

"The auditory traces of electronic fabrication are small enough that we can only conclude they are from the recording itself, sir. We are using electronics to record, therefore there are trace amounts of electronic fabrication across all the recordings, sir. We— we don't know how they did it."

"People can disguise their voices."

"Of course, sir, and while the auditory match is only a ninety-three percent match, the audio clip we have of Toshima's voice that we're using as reference is over a year old and poor quality. Voices change, sir. It would be more suspicious if it were a perfect match."

"Then go back through the audio. Find out when the agents were captured. Get everything you can on their captors."

"Sir, I've been trying to tell you, there's nothing there. The clip we have here isn't just a clip, it's the only audio we have."

"We have an active feed. Retrieve information from that."

"It was an active feed, sir. It died when the agents did. Their subdermal trackers and implanted microphones were wired to them— the electronics died when they did, sir.

"Normally, we can't retrieve it because it isn't stored unless doing so is pre-approved. It was in this case, sir, but all the data is gone, wiped clean from the system. The only thing in the folder for this mission's recordings was that clip. I'm sorry, sir, but that backlog of data is just… gone."

Gin watched the computer intently, his eyes cold and calculating. "What happened to the data? Give me possibilities."

"Someone hacked us, sir."

"That's impossible. No one can hack us."

([]-[]-"ゝ

Black frowned. "It's impossible. No one can hack them."

Laptop on his lap, IV in his wrist, Kuroha looked up at Black from his place in the hospital bed and grinned. "I hacked 'em."

"The trackers may have been faulty, but it's unlikely given the timing, sir. Another possibility is Agents SG19 and SG20 were traitors, but Toshima's voice implies it was murder. We have no idea, sir."

"One of you is a traitor."

"No, sir, no one here, none of us even know how to make a code that would match this. You would have to duplicate the exact same code and alter it by—"

"Spare me the details." Gin took in one deep breath. He let out one deep breath. There were still more places to look. "Show me every ping in the past three hours. Zoom out to so I can see the entire island of Japan."

The technician's fingers flew, typing letters and numbers as fast as Gin could kill. In seconds, the red and blue location markers formed kanji that hovered over the islands of Japan, the words unmistakable.

"The devil runs," the technician read under his breath as Gin read it to himself.

Gin was silent for three beats. "Find any connections between Toshima and this phrase. Figure out what happened to the target, too. Report to me once you've got something worth my time."

The technician was efficient enough. Fifteen minutes later, Gin learned of the FBI's involvement and three planes bound for America, a special medical patient on each one. He sent out an order and had six plane tickets acquired, two for each flight. He'd be on the first flight with Vodka, two more agents each on flights two and three. The flights would all come out of the Haido airport and would leave just before dawn.

The information had been so easy to acquire. It seemed the FBI had lost their touch without their traitorous mutt. If only you hadn't died, Akai Shuichi, thought Gin as he drove down the highway in his Porsche. I would love to rub this victory in your face.

(^▽^ )ゞ ( ▼ヮ▼) (??_?)

Jodie looked warily at Conan as he explained his plan. "But what about the other people on the plane? You'll be putting their lives at risk, with a move like that."

"Not if none of us are actually in the plane," Conan answered. "These 'special patients' on each of the planes don't actually exist. Kuroha-san has constructed a video of his hospital bed being taken onto the different planes from airport footage. The Organization will know that two of them are decoys. They won't know that none of them actually exist."

Kuroha coughed. "You will fly with those two to America the long way around." He took a few breaths. "It will take about two weeks and a good amount of money, but for two members of that organization alive?" He coughed again, and Conan offered him a glass of water. The thief blinked gratefully and drained the glass.

"Well worth it," Conan finished firmly.

Black stared down Kuroha. "And what about you, little thief? I assume you'll follow once you're well?"

Kuroha exchanged a glance with Conan, the physically younger of the two giving him an understanding, though slightly pitying, smile. "I have things I need to take care of here. I'm staying here."

"B— but that's suicide," Jodie burst out.

Conan nodded. "That's exactly why he should stay. Hiding in plain sight. They'd never expect him to stay, so they'll never look here for him."

Black frowned in thought. "We don't have enough sedatives for that long of a trip. We might get stopped by a border patrol or something of the sort if we come in through Canada or Mexico, too. Perhaps if we leave on an undocumented flight, that would be the safest option."

"If you can't make it the long way, then…" Conan set his jaw in a frown. "My cousin told me about a pilot he acquitted of murder a little over a year and a half ago. The pilot, she lives in the southern Kanto region, she can get you to Hawaii and from there to the continental part of America. He talked to her for me, and she said she'll fly you if you can pay for the fuel."

Black nodded. "We'll do that. Let's leave at once. Once the organization realizes they've been had, they'll be searching for vengeance."

([]-[]-"ゝ ( ̄ー ̄)ゞ (??_?)

Before Black left the hospital, Conan took Megure and Black into a side room. Neither man knew of the child's intentions, giving each other wary glances until Conan spoke bluntly, meeting Black's gaze, its sharpness only increased with age.

"Megure-keibu wants to look into the Organization," said the child. "He has no idea what he's getting into."

Black blinked, turning an eye on Megure. "And the only way he'll know if he wants to be involved is if he knows more about them, at which point he may raise suspicion given the wrong circumstances…" he mused, murmuring, not quite speaking to either of the others standing with him.

Fury flashed in Megure's eyes, making all his actions bigger, more animated. He waved an arm. "They've threatened my wife and killed an officer and just tried to kill another, twice. I'm already involved, James-san."

"There is a difference between involvement and investigation," Black replied coolly. "One is a passive thing, often. Many people don't realize they've been involved with the organization before. It works in the shadows under pseudonyms and rarely reveals its intentions. Investigation is constantly putting your hand into the fire hoping to grab the flames and burning yourself again and again. When they catch up with anyone who's gone after them, it is, without fail, messy and usually involves casualties."

Megure did not falter. "I am familiar with casualties. I am well-acquainted with secrecy. Why do you think Kudou-kun disappeared from the media when his disappearance was widely known across Division One?" Conan startled at that. Megure had a hand in the media blackout? He had thought everyone just… forgot about him.

"Tokyo takes care of their own, Black-san. I won't slip up. I can handle an investigation."

An odd smile peeked out from beneath Black's mustache. "Cool Kid," he said, maintaining eye contact with Megure, "can you leave us? This conversation just became much longer, and it is high time one as young as yourself got to sleep."

Conan huffed. "But it's only four in the morning. I've been up later."

Megure knew how to strike a chord. "Does Ran-kun know you're here? She'll be worried sick if you don't make it home in time."

Conan's heart lurched at that. He'd given her enough grief to last a few lifetimes. She didn't need to wake up to an empty house. "Fine," he mumbled, acting the disappointed child he appeared to be. "I wanna be updated, though. So I can know how much I can tell Megure-keibu and stuff," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Black reached down and ruffled Conan's hair, an action the child recoiled from. "Of course, Cool Kid. Go home, now."

Conan hesitated. "Bye, Black-san. Bye, Megure-keibu."

Megure watched Conan go, waiting until the boy was surely out of earshot before he hissed, "Where the h*** does he get that kind of authority? Who the h*** is he?"

Black stared at the door Conan had exited through. "A valuable ally, and the greatest tactician the FBI has encountered since an agent who died a few months ago." He cleared his throat. "Some speculate Cool Kid is much older than he lets on— his physical age is much younger than his mental age, I mean. But that's just gossip," Black added dismissively.

Megure swallowed. That… actually explained a lot. If Conan was mentally older than he appeared, many of the boy's strange habits and interactions suddenly made sense.

Black continued as though he'd just made small talk about the weather. "It seems to me we have two items of business. The Black Organization, and Cool Kid." His wizened gaze hardened, and Megure prepared himself mentally, ready to defend his right to the truth at all costs.

( ▼ヮ▼) (??_?)

Hours later, sometime around noon, Conan sat in Kuroha's hospital room. The FBI had long since gone, and the laptop that Kuroha had used was wiped as if the Night Baron virus had swept through it. Outside the door were fresh guards, and Jodie sent constant updates of their progress back to America.

Across the hall, Kogoro rested alone since Takagi and Sato were given a clean bill of health and sent home. Ran was with her father, keeping him company and standing guard over him— she wasn't a karate champion for nothing. She'd brought Conan back to the hospital with her after he'd told her what had happened.

Conan's glasses sat on the bed as he dozed on the foot of the thief's bed. No one dared move him, not after the fit he'd thrown an hour or two ago when Megure had tried to keep Conan out of the thief's room. Conan didn't remember much of it, but he knew he won. He drifted in and out of consciousness. At this particular moment, he was closer to wakefulness when a thought came to him.

"Why 'the devil runs?'" he asked the thief.

The thief blinked before he comprehended. "Demons run when a good man goes to war," he quoted, speaking softly. "It was their warning. You're a good man, Kudou-kun. I fear for them the day you finally attack."

Conan forgot to be startled by the thief's use of his true name. Instead, he nodded, drifting back off to sleep.

He isn't safe, tantei-kun, whispered a voice in anguish , but there was more. The bright feathers are not the dark.

Hikaru meant light. Kuroha meant black feather, meaning Kuroha was the bright feathers. He wasn't one of the dark, one of the black organization.

Conan slept soundly with the new mantra's reassurance.

The bright feathers are not the dark.