Detective Conan: I'm a Boy, But They Treat Me Like a Big Sister — Chapter 80

Chapter 80: The Open Topics of a Married Woman…

“Pardon the intrusion.”

Tōhō Getsukai swapped his outdoor shoes for a pair of soft slippers at the genkan and stepped into the Sawamura family’s living room. The interior design was a classic reflection of a mixed-race household—traditional Japanese wooden flooring stretching out to meet a plush, European-style sofa. A precarious stack of manga magazines sat piled next to the polished TV cabinet, adding a touch of otaku chaos to the otherwise elegant space.

Eriri kicked off her own shoes in a hurry. Clutching his puff-sleeve coat tightly against her chest, she bolted toward the stairs.

“I’m going up to change! You wait right there in the living room! Don’t touch anything! Don’t look around! And whatever you do, absolutely do not look at the third shelf of the bookcase!”

Tōhō Getsukai offered a mild, amused smile as he watched the flash of golden twin-tails disappear around the corner of the staircase.

‘I wouldn’t have even thought about it if you hadn’t said anything,’he mused inwardly.’But now I am incredibly curious about what is on that third shelf.’

A rapid series of thudding footsteps echoed from the wooden stairs, followed immediately by a muffled grunt as she inevitably tripped halfway up.

He listened for a moment. No crying. She was still alive.

“Oh my.”

A gentle, melodic voice drifted from the direction of the kitchen. A moment later, Eriri’s mother, Sayuri Sawamura, walked into the living room carrying a porcelain teacup on a tray.

Though in her early forties, she was impeccably maintained. Her long, dark hair cascaded softly over her shoulders, and she wore a beige knit cardigan that managed to look perfectly homely without losing an ounce of elegance. She radiated the aura of a gentle, highly intellectual married woman at absolute maximum concentration.

However, Tōhō Getsukai knew perfectly well that this aunt’s refined exterior hid an inner nature that was entirely different.

“Our lovely Tōhō is here again.”

Sayuri caught sight of him, the corners of her lips curling into a warm smile as she set the tray down on the glass coffee table. “Are you here to bring Eriri back?”

“Eriri spilled a drink on herself at the School Festival, so her clothes got a bit wet,” Tōhō Getsukai explained. He stood in the center of the living room and offered a slight, polite bow, executing the posture of a perfectly well-behaved junior.

This was far from his first time visiting the Sawamura residence. He had dropped by on several occasions to serve as Eriri’s art model, and every single time, Sayuri had greeted him with that same beaming smile.

Yet, this aunt’s attitude toward him had always been wonderfully strange. Even though she was fully aware that he was a boy, she treated him exactly the way one would treat a cute, delicate girl. Or, more accurately, she treated him like the precious ‘best girlfriend’ her daughter had brought home for a sleepover.

Sayuri’s gaze slid smoothly from his face down to his bare shoulders, taking in the thin camisole he was currently wearing.

“Did you lend your coat to Eriri?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, retrieved a soft, thin blanket from the back of the sofa, and draped it carefully over his shoulders. “Wrap yourself up, dear. It is simply heartbreaking to see you shivering like this.”

After ensuring he was bundled up, Sayuri gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa and gently pushed the steaming teacup across the table toward him.

Taking the single armchair opposite him, she sat with her legs pressed neatly together and swept to the side, resting her chin on one hand as she watched him. The way she looked at people was a stark contrast to her daughter. When Eriri looked at him, it was always a textbook tsundere performance—stealing glances while desperately trying to project the illusion of ‘I am definitely not looking at you,’ even though the entire world knew she was.

When Sayuri looked at him, it was with open, honest, and entirely unashamed appreciation.

“Are you still modeling for Eriri?” she asked softly.

“Occasionally.” Tōhō Getsukai nodded politely, taking a slow sip of the tea. Small talk was an art form he had long since mastered.

“Then I must thank you so much.” Sayuri smiled, picking up her own teacup. “With you here, I can finally rest easy. That child has a wonderful foundation for drawing, but she has always lacked a reliable, patient model.”

She paused, taking a sip before continuing. “Besides… you truly do have wonderful proportions.”

Her gaze swept naturally over him, tracing the line from his collarbone down to his waistline in a purely analytical manner. She nodded in approval. “A beautifully thin waist, long legs, and a delicate frame. And you don’t fidget. If I were an artist, I would certainly want to draw you too.”

Tōhō Getsukai offered a modest smile. The way a mature married woman delivered compliments was simply on another level—straightforward, observant, and entirely lacking any greasy undertones.

“But come to think of it…”

Sayuri set her teacup down. She rested her chin on her hand once more, the atmosphere shifting slightly as she changed the subject. “Tōhō, I have a rather private question I would like to ask you.”

“Please go ahead, ma’am.”

“Eriri seems to be deeply troubled by something recently.” Sayuri’s tone remained perfectly gentle, but the slight, teasing arc of her mouth clearly betrayed a deeper amusement. “She keeps complaining that her chest is far too flat.”

Tōhō Getsukai paused, a subtle shift crossing his features.

Had his disdainful, downward glance in the classroom earlier today actually shattered Eriri’s psychological defenses? More… was it truly appropriate for a mother to be discussing her daughter’s bust size with a high school boy?

Sayuri let out a soft, theatrical sigh, her tone dripping with excessive innocence. “Actually… it is indeed inherited from me. I was exactly like that when I was her age.”

She lowered her gaze, glancing down at her own chest. The beige knit sweater was form-fitting, and the silhouette it presented was, undeniably, rather modest.

Any average high school boy would have instantly short-circuited, their face burning red as they scrambled for a way to escape such a dangerously hot topic. But Tōhō Getsukai was not an average high school boy. A conversation of this caliber was nowhere near enough to make his system crash.

“Sayuri-san.”

He set his teacup down, his tone perfectly steady and professional as he offered thoughtful, clinical advice. “Actually, one doesn’t necessarily need to consider anything as drastic as augmentation.”

He looked her in the eye, fully embracing his flawless ‘Big Sister’ persona. “Choosing the correct functional underwear—specifically styles designed with gathering or lifting effects—will provide excellent improvements in both visual silhouette and personal confidence.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, adding another crucial point. “The true focus shouldn’t be on the raw size, but rather on the contour line. With the right structural support, even an A-cup can present the elegant shape of a B-cup.”

Sayuri sat frozen for a full second. Then, she covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she let out a soft, delighted chuckle.

“My goodness, Tōhō! You actually understand these kinds of things too! That is simply amazing!”

Her smile deepened, turning incredibly warm as she reached across the table to affectionately pat his hand. “I certainly don’t need such things at my age, but you should absolutely buy some for Eriri. She would be overjoyed.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That child refuses to say it out loud, but she actually cares a great deal. Every time she sees those well-developed girls in her class, she comes home and sulks in her room for hours.”

“If it is something specially picked out by you, I know she would be thrilled.”

‘As expected of a fujoshi married woman,’Tōhō Getsukai thought dryly.’The sheer scale and pacing of her conversational topics are just built differently.’

“Alright,” he replied smoothly, not bothering to refuse. “Then when I have some free time, I will take Eriri to—”

Rapid footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs. Eriri had finished changing and was marching back down.

She wore a crisp white T-shirt paired with denim shorts, her golden twin-tails freshly tied and perfectly neat. In her hands, she carried Tōhō Getsukai’s puff-sleeve coat, which she had carefully folded.

She stepped onto the final stair, glanced into the living room, and instantly froze like a deer in headlights.

“Mom! What on earth were you talking about with Tōhō! Don’t talk to him about weird things!”

“What do you mean, weird things?” Sayuri blinked, the picture of maternal innocence. “We were just having a lovely chat about under—”

“Don’t say it out loud!!!”

Even though she hadn’t heard a single word of the actual conversation, Eriri knew her mother’s conversational combat power far too well. Her finely tuned tsundere instincts screamed that she was about to hear something completely explosive, and absolute horror washed over her face.

She closed the distance to the sofa in three frantic strides, grabbed Tōhō Getsukai by the wrist, and hauled him up from the cushions.

“You! Come upstairs with me! Right now! Immediately!”

“Wait, I haven’t finished my tea…”

“Don’t drink it!!!”

Tōhō Getsukai allowed himself to be dragged toward the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder.

Sayuri remained seated on the sofa, elegantly holding her teacup. She offered him a graceful little wave, her smile radiating meaningful intent. “Remember what I said, please!”

Eriri’s pace doubled, visible steam practically rising from the back of her golden head.

“What did you say?! What on earth did my mom just say to you!!!”

“That is a secret for now.”

She dragged him all the way up the wooden stairs, practically kicked open her bedroom door at the end of the hallway, shoved him inside, and slammed the door shut behind them.

Pressing her back against the solid wooden panel, she stood there panting, her chest heaving as she glared at him.

“Tōhō… what… what on earth did my mom tell you?”

“I already told you, it’s a secret.”

Faced with that perfectly calm, evasive answer once again, Eriri’s face flushed crimson, her lips parting to reveal her signature little fangs in a deeply frustrated pout.