"Hoshino, enough suspense. Just tell us." Inspector Megure's patience was fraying. His eyes darted across the brutalized walls, trying to see what the young detective saw.
It's there…
Conan's focus snapped to a row of cabinets against the far wall.
"Inspector Megure," Hoshino said calmly, pointing to the very spot Conan was scrutinizing. "Look at the knife marks. Aren't some of them… discontinuous?"
Megure and Sato Miwako stepped closer. The large cabinet was composed of many small drawers. Upon inspection, several slashes did indeed stop and start unnaturally.
Without further prompting, they began removing the affected drawers, comparing them to the marks on the wall, and slotting them back in different configurations.
Soon, the fragmented cuts aligned. Two faint hiragana characters became visible on the wood:
[す] and [わ]
"Su… wa?" Inspector Megure spun around, his gaze locking onto Suwa Yuji. The reading was clear.
He took a steadying breath. "Mr. Suwa. Do you have anything to say?"
Sato Miwako shifted subtly, placing herself between the suspect and the teenagers. Other officers sealed the exits. Suwa Yuji was cornered.
"That's right…" Maru Ineko murmured. "My husband held a third-dan in kendo. Mr. Suwa also practices. He's the only one who could have done this… quietly."
Suwa Yuji's face remained a placid mask. "Officer, isn't it possible you're framing me?"
"Erm… Hoshino-kun? Any other clues?" Deflated, Megure turned his hopeful, puppy-dog eyes on Kurosawa Hoshino.
Hoshino looked away, unable to bear the expression. He addressed the three suspects instead.
"Gentlemen, what time were you scheduled to meet Mr. Maru today?"
"I was for 5 PM," said Tawano Kikuya, the doctor. "But I called to delay half an hour. No answer, so I left a message."
"I also left a message saying I'd be late," Akutsu Makoto added.
Suwa Yuji spoke last. "My meeting was for 6 PM. I called, no answer. I left a message saying I'd come at 5 instead."
"Seems normal," Kogoro mused, stroking his chin. "Should we check the answering machine? See if anyone's lying?"
"Unnecessary. The killer already gave himself away."
Hoshino's voice cut through the room. Inspector Megure perked up instantly. So close to wrapping this up!
"Mr. Suwa." Hoshino looked at the calm man and offered a thin smile. "Think about it. When Mr. Maru didn't answer, the messages were left after the scheduled time. Yet you—knowing no one was home—chose to move your meeting earlier. Weren't you worried he wouldn't be there? Or…"
He paused, watching the first crack appear in Suwa's composure.
"…did you already know that whether you came early or late, Mr. Maru Denjiro would never be able to meet you? This way, you could even craft an alibi."
Silence swallowed the room. All eyes were on Suwa Yuji.
I lost, Conan thought, a pang of dejection hitting him. Hoshino's logic was airtight. The case was over.
But the loss was secondary to a chilling realization: his own deductions, usually so reliable, felt sluggish and shallow next to Hoshino's. The other boy didn't just solve cases; he dismantled them with an effortless, terrifying efficiency.
This guy…
Conan stared, feeling as if Hoshino Kurosawa had grown to an immense height, looking down on him with the detached indifference of a god observing an ant.
The pressure was immense, unprecedented.
Dad… I think I've met someone as sharp as you. Maybe sharper.
He lowered his head, but a spark of defiance reignited. So he beat me this time. And the time before. If he beats me ten times, twenty times… then I'll admit it. But not until then.
Suwa Yuji was silent for a long time.
Finally, he opened his eyes—they were no longer narrow slits—and let out a soft sigh.
"Yes. I killed him." His voice was disturbingly calm. "I wasn't lying. I came today to repay my debt. To reclaim my family's heirloom sword, Kikuchiyo. But…"
His gaze shifted to Maru Denjiro's corpse, and a flash of raw anger broke through.
"When I gave him the money, he laughed. Said the sword was a 'broken piece of junk' he'd already sold for scrap. Said my payment was just 'interest.' I saw red. I grabbed a decorative knife from that cabinet… and that was that."
Hoshino didn't get a chance to stage a dramatic disarming, as the police were already on high alert and kept their distance. Fine by me. Less theatrics.
"Take him away," Inspector Megure ordered, and an officer moved forward with cuffs.
As he was led out, Suwa Yuji turned his head toward Hoshino.
"Kurosawa Hoshino… I saw that video from Saitama. I thought your speed was a fluke. A lucky streak. I was wrong." A grim, respectful smile touched his lips. "I hope to hear in prison one day… that your name echoes across the world."
"…"
Hoshino didn't respond. This wasn't a samurai drama. There was no mutual respect here, just a closed case.
He felt nothing. He was just a machine, efficiently collecting Source Points. He checked his mental panel—happily noting the tally had just increased to 6.
Only 14 more to go.
He had to keep this momentum. The grind, as always, continued.