Detective Conan: I'm a Boy, But They Treat Me Like a Big Sister — Chapter 67

Chapter 67: This Isn’t a Date (Probably)

The coffee table in Dr. Agasa’s living room was buried under a snowdrift of yellow sticky notes.

Heiji Hattori and Shinichi Kudo had just burned through two and a half hours carefully reconstructing the locked-room murder back in Osaka. From the mismatched guest slippers to the exact dust displacement in the ventilation ducts, every logical node snapped perfectly into place.

After a final call to the Osaka precinct to verify the last thread of evidence, Heiji collapsed backward onto the sofa. A massive, exhausted grin stretched across his face.

“Hell yes! Now that was a brilliant case!”

Sitting on the opposite cushion, Shinichi Kudo’s eye twitched.

‘Brilliant, my foot. I’ve been playing a genius kindergartner for two and a half hours straight. My throat is practically smoking.’

Heiji stretched his arms high above his head, popping his shoulders. He squinted around the cluttered living room, his brow furrowing as he slowly sat up.

“…Wait. Where’s Kazuha?”

Shinichi pushed up his oversized glasses, the lenses catching the light. “You’re only just noticing?”

“What do you mean?”

“She left over two hours ago.”

“Left? Where? With who?”

Dr. Agasa poked his head out from the kitchen doorway, a damp dish towel in one hand and a half-dried plate in the other. “She went out with Tōhō Getsukai. Said they were going shopping.”

“Shopping?”

Heiji’s stomach did a strange, uncomfortable flip.

“Kazuha? With that silver-haired guy?”

He yanked his phone from his pocket and tapped open his LINE chat with her.

Nothing.

From the exact second he had started analyzing the floor plans at the coffee table until now—a full two and a half hours—Toyama Kazuha hadn’t sent a single message.

For a girl who usually blew up his phone every twenty minutes to ask where he was or if he had eaten yet, this was the equivalent of falling off the face of the earth.

A dull knot tightened in Heiji’s chest. He couldn’t quite put a name to the sensation. It definitely wasn’t worry; Kazuha’s Aikido was sharp enough to toss any street-level creep straight into an open sewer. And it wasn’t anger, either. She was free to go shopping. He wasn’t her dad.

But it just felt… wrong.

From the safety of the sofa, Shinichi watched the Osaka detective’s face cycle from sheer confusion to brewing irritation. A deep, vindicating wave of satisfaction washed over the shrunken sleuth. It was a potent cocktail of pity and pure schadenfreude.

No one on earth understood the sheer social lethality of Tōhō Getsukai better than Shinichi Kudo.

That silver-haired bastard. Ever since they were kids, beautiful girls had flocked to him in endless waves, and every single one of them had stepped into his orbit entirely of their own free will. He never chased. He never begged. He simply stood there, and people lined up just to breathe the same air.

When it came to deductive reasoning, Heiji Hattori was absolutely on par with Shinichi. But when it came to the delicate art of handling girls, the Osaka detective couldn’t even catch a whiff of Getsukai’s exhaust fumes.

Shinichi suppressed a shudder, recalling all the times he had been effortlessly outmaneuvered by Getsukai’s flawless maiden act.

There was no upper limit to how attentive that guy could be. The most terrifying part wasn’t any grand romantic gesture; it was the micro-actions. Every little thing he did seemed perfectly normal in isolation, but strung together, it formed a lethal, inescapable combo. By the time a girl realized what was happening, she was already so thoroughly charmed she couldn’t tell up from down.

Naturally, Shinichi kept these grim warnings to himself. He simply tilted his head, adopting his innocent, high-pitched child voice.

“Uncle Heiji, are you going to go look for her?”

“Who’s looking for her?!” Heiji barked, his face flushing dark. “If she wants to shop, let her shop!”

Despite the fierce denial, his thumbs were already flying across the screen. He kept his head ducked low, aggressively tapping out a short, blunt message.

[Where are you?]

He hit send, then glared at the screen for ten agonizing seconds. No ‘read’ receipt. No typing bubble.

Scowling, he shoved the phone deep into his pocket, stood up, and aggressively brushed the wrinkles from his pants.

“Alright, the case is settled. I should get going.”

He swapped contact info with Shinichi, then paused at the entryway, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He glanced back.

“Hey, kid… no, Shinichi Kudo. Next time you stumble into an interesting case, give me a call.”

Heiji pushed the door open and vanished into the afternoon. His heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the street until they faded completely.

Shinichi waited until the front door clicked shut before sliding off the sofa with a heavy sigh.

“Finally got rid of him. Good grief.”

3:00 PM, Omotesando.

The crisp October sunlight filtered through the canopy of ginkgo leaves, scattering across the pavement like shattered gold.

Further down the tree-lined avenue, Toyama Kazuha was still clinging tightly to Tōhō Getsukai’s arm. The new silver bell on her wrist jingled a merry rhythm with every step she took. Her signature ponytail swayed energetically, her gait practically a skip.

To any passing observer, they looked exactly like a pair of incredibly close, gorgeous girlfriends enjoying a weekend outing. The atmosphere between them was so sugary sweet it practically defied gravity.

Getsukai glanced down at the Kansai girl hugging his arm. Beneath his flawless, gentle smile, a dry sense of amusement flickered.

‘You don’t even need to pry someone else’s corner,’he mused.’The wall just collapses toward you on its own. And with such enthusiasm, too.’

“Yuekui-kun!” Kazuha suddenly pointed ahead, her eyes sparkling. “That general store looks so cute! Let’s go in!”

Without waiting for an answer, she dragged him through the glass doors of a quaint shop specializing in Japanese-style knick-knacks.

The air inside smelled faintly of sandalwood and dried flowers. Shelves were packed tight with handmade hair accessories, delicate fabric trinkets, and rows of aromatherapy oils.

Getsukai let her pull him along. His gaze drifted over a wooden rack of hair accessories before locking onto a specific hair tie. It was a pale green ribbon adorned with a small, carefully embroidered daisy. The color scheme was a flawless match for the bell bracelet they had purchased earlier.

He picked it up, turning his attention to Kazuha. Her original rubber hairband had grown slightly loose from all her energetic bouncing around town.

“Kazuha,” Getsukai said softly. “Lower your head a bit.”

Before Kazuha could even process the request, Getsukai raised his hand. His fingers brushed against her nape as he unfastened her old hairband. Her long, rich brown hair instantly cascaded down her shoulders in a soft wave.

A second later, his slender fingers combed through the silken strands. His touch was deft, gentle, and incredibly precise as he gathered her hair back up into a neat ponytail. He looped the new ribbon around it. The tension was perfect—secure enough to hold, but gentle enough not to pull.

The little embroidered daisy sat quietly at the base of her ponytail, looking perfectly at home.

“All done,” Getsukai murmured, stepping back.

Kazuha reached up, her fingertips brushing against the soft fabric of the daisy.

Heat rushed to her face, turning her ears a bright, burning red. Her mind flatlined, leaving only one looping, deafening thought.

‘He just touched my hair… He helped me tie my hair…’

Had Heiji Hattori ever done anything remotely like this?

Forget tying her hair—that idiot detective couldn’t even tell when she trimmed her bangs.

Kazuha bit her lower lip. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so violently she felt like she might float away. She couldn’t form a single coherent word.

She had experienced so many firsts today.

Browsing tiny accessory shops while someone actually took the time to pick out a bracelet for her. Taking sticker photos in a cramped booth and having someone happily coordinate silly poses with her. Eating sweet crepes and having someone gently tilt her chin up to wipe a smudge of cream from the corner of her mouth.

Every single action was small. Insignificant, even, in the grand scheme of things. But piled together, they formed a tidal wave that swept her completely off her feet.

A sudden, startling thought pierced through her flustered haze. Her childhood friend, the boy she had chased for years, had never done a single one of these things with her.

And then she remembered that Tōhō Getsukai—this beautiful, attentive, perfect maiden beside her—was actually a boy.

Her heart skipped another dangerous beat.

Right at that precarious moment, the phone in her pocket vibrated.

Kazuha blinked, pulling it out.

[Where are you?]

Three blunt words, sent after a two-and-a-half-hour delay.

Kazuha stared at the glowing screen. The bustling noise of the store seemed to fade away. She stood there in absolute silence for a long moment.

Then, her thumb moved. She opened her GPS, dropped a perfunctory location pin into the chat, and immediately locked the screen. She shoved the phone back into her pocket without typing a single word.

Looking up, she flashed Getsukai a bright, radiant smile. “Yuekui-kun, where should we go next?”

Getsukai watched the entire sequence play out. He noted the sheer nonchalance of her reply and the absolute finality with which she pocketed her phone.

The corners of his lips curled upward in an almost imperceptible, knowing smile.

‘Toyama Kazuha-san.”Your behavior today has already far exceeded the scope of just friends going shopping.’