Detective Conan: I'm a Boy, But They Treat Me Like a Big Sister — Chapter 60

Chapter 60: The Great Detective’s Dilemma

Sunday morning, exactly eight-thirty. Inside Eri Kisaki’s apartment, the morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the hallway.

Tōhō Getsukai stood before the full-length mirror, his slender fingers deftly fastening the final button of his collar. He smoothed down the fabric of a sleek black turtleneck sweater, letting it tuck neatly into a long, flowing grey skirt that draped perfectly just below his knees. He gathered his cascading silver hair, sweeping the silky strands over his right shoulder to expose the delicate line of his neck. A thin silver chain rested against his collarbone, catching the light with every subtle movement.

He took a step back, tilting his head to evaluate the reflection.

‘Perfect,’he mused.’Today’s aesthetic is the mature, intellectual beauty.’

After all, he was scheduled for a shopping trip with Aunt Yukiko. If he dressed too young or overly trendy, the visual age gap between them would be too stark, and nothing bruised a former actress’s pride quite like feeling old next to her companion. Standing side-by-side in this outfit, they would look exactly like two elegant sisters out for a stroll.

“Yuekui-chan! Are you ready yet?” Yukiko’s bright, melodic voice drifted down the hallway from the living room. “That new limited-edition boutique in Harajuku opens its doors at exactly nine! If we dally, all the good pieces will be snatched up by the morning crowd!”

“Coming,” Tōhō called back, his feminine voice smooth and unhurried.

He gave his collar one last adjustment and turned toward the entryway. Before he could take a single step, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.

He pulled it out. The screen illuminated the dim hallway, displaying a very specific caller ID: Conan Edogawa.

Tōhō raised an eyebrow. This kid rarely called out of the blue, especially not this early on a Sunday morning. Anything that drove the shrunken detective to dial his number before nine o’clock was practically guaranteed to be a massive headache.

He swiped the screen and brought the speaker to his ear.

“Yuekui…”

Conan’s voice was a harsh, breathless whisper, his mouth clearly pressed directly against the microphone. He sounded like a cornered animal.

“Are you free?”

“Depends on the price,” Tōhō replied dryly.

“A really troublesome guy chased me all the way from Osaka.” Conan’s words tumbled out in a rushed panic. “He’s been staking out the Professor’s house for two straight days. He absolutely refuses to leave until he sees Shinichi Kudo.”

“Two days?”

“Two days,” Conan repeated, the distinct sound of grinding teeth echoing over the line. “I discussed a case with him over the phone a few days ago. I managed to brush him off using the voice changer to sound like my normal self.”

“But somehow, he got his hands on the Professor’s address and took the Shinkansen straight to Tokyo.”

“A voice changer can fool the ears, but it cannot fool the eyes, Kudo-kun.”

“…That is exactly why I am calling you.”

Chased all the way from Osaka. Staking out a house for forty-eight hours. Stubbornly demanding a face-to-face meeting with Shinichi Kudo.

Tōhō easily pieced the puzzle together. There was only one person who fit that absurd profile.

Heiji Hattori.

The renowned high school Great Detective of the Kansai region. A hot-blooded, fiercely competitive teenager who was undeniably brilliant, but whose impulsive, bulldozing methods made him the textbook definition of a reckless headache. Tōhō recalled Conan briefly complaining about a loud Kansai detective he had argued with over the phone during a recent investigation.

“Where is he right now?” Tōhō asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Sitting right next to the vending machine outside the Professor’s front gate! He has been parked there since yesterday afternoon!” Conan’s volume spiked in sheer frustration before he quickly hushed himself again. “The Professor went out and told him Shinichi Kudo went abroad on a case, but he didn’t buy a single word of it!”

“A voice changer works fine over a phone line, but not face-to-face. With my current body, there is absolutely no way I can walk out there and talk to him…”

“So, how exactly do you want me to help?”

“You are the absolute best at handling this kind of social nightmare!” Conan pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. “Help me send him packing! Just make up some flawless excuse, convince him that Shinichi Kudo really did fly overseas!”

Tōhō finished slipping on his shoes, his posture entirely relaxed as he held the phone. A faint, lazy amusement curled the corners of his lips.

“You probably don’t know this…” Tōhō began slowly, letting his gentle voice drip with playful malice. “I have a shopping date with your mother today.”

Dead silence fell over the other end of the line.

Tōhō could vividly picture the absolute horror washing over Conan’s face at this very second.

“…W-What? M-Mom?”

“Yes. A new limited-edition shop opened in Harajuku, and she specifically invited me to accompany her. Think about it, Shinichi. If I run off to clean up your mess right now, your mother’s highly anticipated shopping plans will go straight down the drain.”

Tōhō switched the phone to his other ear, his tone becoming excessively cheerful.

“If Aunt Yukiko gets upset because her morning is ruined, who do you think she will take her anger out on?”

Conan went entirely numb. This was a lethal, no-win dilemma.

Option A: Beg Yuekui for help, and his mother explodes.

Option B: Do not ask Yuekui for help, and Hattori kicks down the front door.

Both paths led to total destruction. The only variable was deciding which explosion would leave fewer casualties.

“I-I will talk to Mom!” Conan finally hissed, his voice trembling with grim resolve. “I will find a way to convince her to go another day! Please, just come over here first and help me deal with this Hattori guy!”

Faced with certain death, Conan chose to neutralize Heiji Hattori first. A mother’s wrath was terrifying, but the secret of his shrunken body being exposed to a rival detective was a catastrophic threat to his very survival.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Tōhō teased.

“Positive!”

“Do not blame me when your mother blows her top.”

“I won’t blame you, I am begging you! Just get over here!”

Conan sounded like he was on the verge of actual tears.

The great Sherlock Holmes of the Heisei era was currently crouching behind the second-floor curtains of Hiroshi Agasa’s house, trapped in the body of a seven-year-old boy, staring down at a Kansai high schooler while desperately calling a cross-dressing boy for a rescue mission.

If Heiji Hattori ever discovered the truth of this moment, he would likely die of laughter on the sidewalk, entirely forgetting about the deduction battle.

“Alright, I will be over in a bit,” Tōhō agreed, his tone smoothing out into a reassuring hum.

Before ending the call, he added one final nail to the coffin.

“But Shinichi, you owe me yet another massive favor for this.”

“I know, I know! Hanging up!”

The line went dead. Tōhō locked his screen, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a satisfied sigh. Shinichi Kudo’s invisible IOU of favors was growing so long the poor detective might spend the rest of his life paying it off.

Stepping out of the entryway and into the living room, he found Yukiko fully dressed in a stunning designer coat, happily posing and taking selfies with her phone.

“Yuekui-chan! Do I look good from this angle?” she asked, flashing a radiant smile.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Tōhō replied smoothly.

“Hehehe~ Then let us head out and conquer Harajuku!”

“Auntie, there is a slight situation.”

Tōhō briefly and concisely relayed the core of Conan’s plea for help. Naturally, he filtered out the dangerous details, framing it simply as a mutual friend who had run into some severe social trouble that required his immediate, delicate handling.

“So… my shopping trip is postponed?”

Yukiko lowered her phone. Her face instantly morphed into a mask of deep reluctance, her eyes narrowing as she mentally drafted a list of tortures for her son.

“Not postponed,” Tōhō reassured her, offering a gentle, apologetic smile. “We will go straight to Harajuku the moment I am done. It should only take about an hour to resolve.”

“Really?”

“…It should… be fine… right?”

Yukiko tilted her head, her sharp eyes sizing him up for two silent seconds. She reached into her handbag, pulling out a compact mirror to touch up her lip gloss with practiced elegance.

“Fine. Then I will go ahead and wait for you in Harajuku. You have exactly a one-hour limit, Yuekui-chan. If you are even one minute late, your penalty is treating me to a very expensive meal.”

With a dramatic twirl, Yukiko skipped out the front door, leaving a trail of expensive perfume in her wake.

Tōhō walked back to the hallway mirror for one final inspection.

Black turtleneck, flowing grey skirt, silver hair pinned neatly to the side. His entire aura had shifted flawlessly from a cool, unapproachable high school beauty to an intellectual, reliable urban older sister.

‘Perfect score.’

He turned toward the door, his mind drifting to the task ahead.

The Great Detective of Kansai. Heiji Hattori, the proud son of the Chief of the Osaka Prefectural Police. A student of Kaiho Academy High School and a formidable force in their Kendo Club. His deduction skills were rumored to be entirely on par with Shinichi Kudo’s, but their methodologies and personalities were polar opposites.

Hot-blooded, brutally straightforward, reckless, and entirely lacking a verbal filter. Hattori belonged to the dangerous breed of people who acted on pure instinct first and bothered to think about the consequences later.

Honestly, looking at Hattori himself, there was nothing that caught Tōhō’s particular interest. Dealing with loud, impulsive boys was child’s play.

But his childhood friend, on the other hand…

Kazuha Toyama.

A fierce Aikido expert who always wore a signature ponytail. A girl with a charming Kansai accent and the kind of bright, unpretentious Osaka energy that made her smile exceptionally beautiful.

Tōhō tilted his head, a deeply mischievous, predatory grin breaking through his gentle maiden facade.

‘The Kansai Great Detective… interesting enough.’He pulled the front door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place.’But his little childhood friend… is going to be far more interesting.’