"Let me see..."
"Haruki, your posture is excellent; a cut like this would suit you perfectly."
"That suit you wore for the signing event was very sharp."
"Take one of each—the white and the slate gray. We'll find ties to match both."
Inside the menswear boutique, Eri Kisaki played the role of stylist with keen enthusiasm. She stood before Haruki, a thoughtful finger to her chin, her gaze analytical. He had just tried on a dress shirt, and she was already handing him a coordinating blazer. Occasionally, for the same style, she would request different colors to compare.
Haruki complied without protest. Eri's taste was impeccable, even if her personal preference clearly leaned toward tailored, formal wear—a bias evident in her own wardrobe.
"Let's settle on these for now."
Once a selection had been made and the overall effect met her approval, Eri gave a satisfied nod. She then turned her attention fully to Haruki. "Now, is there anything you'd like to look at yourself?"
"I'll just pick up a couple of casual T-shirts. For days when I want to be less... structured."
"Of course."
Eri summoned a sales assistant. After the chosen items were neatly packed, she smoothly produced her card for payment. Neither of them was particularly concerned with the cost—in fact, Eri seemed to derive a quiet pleasure from it. Haruki was only a few years older than Ran. In another life, Eri mused, if she'd had a son, this might have been what shopping for him felt like.
"Ran said she'd meet us around 4:30. Let's head to the café and wait for her."
"Alright."
Haruki gathered the shopping bags.
The agreed-upon café was only a ten-minute walk away. Settled at a table with their orders placed, Haruki and Eri chatted idly. Before long, Ran's familiar figure appeared at the café entrance.
The sight of her daughter immediately lit up the beautiful woman's face. Eri waved, then slid further into the booth to make room.
"Mom. Haruki."
Ran's tone was bright with the energy of a school day just ended. She was still in her Teitan High uniform: a white shirt and tie beneath a navy blazer and a matching pleated skirt. At sixteen, she wore little makeup, but her naturally lovely features—a clear inheritance from her mother—shone through, her eyes particularly bright and clear.
"Come, sit. Oh, and who is this?" Eri asked with a smile, noticing the small figure trailing behind Ran.
"This is Conan Edogawa. He's staying with us temporarily—a relative of Shinichi's," Ran explained, a touch of exasperation in her voice. "He insisted on coming when he heard I was going out."
"I see..." Eri's glance was brief, finding the boy vaguely familiar but paying him little further mind.
"Hello, Haruki-niisan!"
Conan looked up, offering Haruki a deliberately bright, childlike smile.
Hearing the slightly saccharine tone, Haruki's grip on his coffee cup tightened almost imperceptibly. His return smile, however, remained gentle and unfazed.
Ran took the seat beside Eri. Conan clambered up next to Haruki, his smile plastered on while internal jealousy churned.
(So Ran's 'date' really was with him?!)
The thought was a vinegar-soaked dagger to Conan's heart. He'd seen Ran rush home from school and change, announcing she was "going on a date" with a happiness that felt like a personal betrayal. He'd only just shrunk, and already his childhood friend was being swept off her feet by some… novelist?
He couldn't just stand by!
"So, Ran-neechan, your date is with Haruki-niisan?" Conan piped up, his voice dripping with faux innocence.
"Eh?!"
The question made Ran's eyes widen in shock. Noticing Haruki's slight pause, a deep blush instantly flooded her cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous, Conan! The 'date' I mentioned was with my mom."
"Ah, I see!" Conan's internal panic subsided as he looked at the two women who were unmistakably mother and daughter.
But then Eri Kisaki spoke, her mature voice laced with playful warmth. "It's true I invited Ran today. But if you two would like to spend time together outside of this, you're certainly welcome to." She took a sip of her tea, her smile knowing. "After all, you are cousins."
"But Haruki-niisan looks so popular at first glance," Conan interjected, his voice a tad too bright. "It must be really hard to get him to go out, right? Ayumi-chan in our class was still talking about Haruki-niisan for days after she got home."
"One shouldn't judge someone's habits based on appearances alone," Haruki replied, mildly amused by the boy's thinly veiled, frantic probing.
"Hmm, Haruki does keep quite a healthy routine," Eri affirmed with a nod.
"..."
Conan was temporarily stymied.
Then, Haruki's gaze settled on him, thoughtful and assessing. "It just occurred to me. You bear a striking resemblance to Shinichi Kudo."
—!
The casual observation hit Conan like a physical blow, stiffening his small frame for an instant. He forced an awkward laugh. "W-well, that's because I'm Shinichi-niisan's relative!"
"Now that Haruki mentions it, I do have a faint memory," Eri said, studying Conan with renewed interest. "This child… does look remarkably like that Kudo boy when he was small."
"Right? I found it rather unbelievable myself when I first saw him," Ran added.
"Is the resemblance that exact?" Haruki pressed.
"I… I think so," Ran conceded after a hesitant moment.
A cold sweat began to bead on Conan's temple.
Just then, Haruki retrieved a small notebook and pen from his pocket and began to write. Desperate to shift focus, Conan leaned forward with a strained chuckle. "Haruki-niisan, what are you writing?"
"An idea just came to me. A rather intriguing one," Haruki mused, not looking up. "A famous high school detective meets with an accident. During a subsequent laboratory mishap, his body is… regressed to that of an eight-year-old. Afterwards, in order to regain his original form and dismantle the shadowy organization responsible, he begins solving cases and pursuing the truth while masquerading as a grade-schooler—"
"That sounds amazing!" Ran's eyes lit up.
"It's a fascinating premise, though a detective who is an elementary student might skew toward a younger audience," Eri analyzed from a market perspective.
"Agreed. As a novel, it may not quite fit, but it holds potential as a manga concept," Haruki nodded, then finally lifted his gaze to meet Conan's. His smile was gentle, inquiring. "What do you think, Conan-kun? Does it work?"
"...Ahaha, I wouldn't know."
Please, no!
Can't a mystery novelist's imagination be a little less… accurate?!
Internal screams echoed in Conan's mind as a fresh wave of cold sweat broke out. He stared at Haruki, his eyes wide with a terror he couldn't fully conceal, his heart hammering against his ribs.
What terrified him more was Haruki's process: he would write a few lines, then pause, his eyes lifting to study Conan's face with unsettling seriousness, before returning to scribble more notes in the pad. Each glance felt like an X-ray, peeling back layers of his carefully constructed disguise.
P@treon Rene_chan