Upstairs, the group arrived at Ikeda Chikako's room and found Suzuki Ayako standing silently by the bed.
Conan looked at the figure lying on her side, hurried to the front, and froze. His pupils contracted.
"She's dead." He whispered. "Ran, call the police."
"Huh?" Ran, who had followed him, blinked in confusion.
Conan realized his slip and quickly covered it. "I mean—Ran-neechan, someone's dead. Only the police can handle this. We need to call them first."
"Chikako!" Kakutani Hiroki's voice cracked. "How is this possible? She was fine just now. How could this suddenly happen?"
Ōta Masaru said nothing, his eyes scanning the room warily.
"Sis." Sonoko moved to Ayako's side and gently hugged her sister.
Conan leaned closer to the body, his sharp gaze sweeping over the neck and face. The deduction came automatically.
Strangled. Pale purplish-red marks on the neck and palms. Pinpoint hemorrhages in the conjunctiva. Slightly bulging eyeballs. Cyanotic lips—all textbook signs of mechanical asphyxiation.
He caught himself and looked up. Everyone was staring at him.
Damn it.
He slipped back into his childish voice. "Shinichi-nii taught me all this! He said if someone's strangled, they'd definitely struggle. They might scratch the killer's skin and leave—wait!"
Something clicked. Conan yanked back the blanket and examined Ikeda Chikako's fingernails.
"Skin fragments. She scratched her killer."
In an instant, everyone remembered: downstairs, Kurosawa Hoshino had asked Takahashi Ryoichi about the scratches on the back of his left hand.
"Ran, where's Hoshino?" Sonoko's eyes filled with unease.
"Downstairs. Takahashi never came up either." Ran's body tensed. She spun around and ran. "Hoshino's in danger!"
"Ran, wait for me!" Sonoko bolted after her.
The others abandoned the body and rushed downstairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, they froze.
A pool of blood on the floor.
A fallen axe.
A twisted, bent baton.
"Could it be…" Ōta Masaru didn't finish. He didn't need to. Everyone understood.
Ran and Sonoko covered their mouths. Trembling, they stepped forward, staring at the wrecked baton.
"Ran-neechan! Sonoko-neechan! Don't touch it—you'll contaminate the scene!" Conan's voice was sharp with panic.
Then—
A door creaked open.
Everyone's heads snapped toward the sound. Their eyes went wide.
The bathroom door swung open. Kurosawa Hoshino stepped out, shaking water from his hands. He saw everyone frozen at the stairs, staring at him like he was a ghost, and smiled.
"You're all down here. I was just about to come find you."
"Hoshino! You're okay?!"
"Thank god! You scared us to death!"
Ran and Sonoko rushed him, grabbing his arms, checking him over with desperate relief.
Sonoko pouted and smacked him hard. "You really scared me!"
"Yeah, we saw the baton all bent and we thought—we thought you…" Ran punched him too—thankfully not hard enough to send him flying into a wall.
Kurosawa Hoshino shrugged helplessly. "What could I do? Takahashi wouldn't come upstairs, and I couldn't let him run. Someone had to stay with him. Besides, I've been attacked three times now and come out fine every time. You should trust my abilities."
With Danger Prediction, he didn't even need to be on guard. Just wait for the other guy to move, then move faster.
"Hoshino, where's Takahashi now?" Suzuki Ayako stepped forward.
"Him? Tough guy. Had to bend his own axe before he stopped struggling. He's tied to a chair in the living room."
Kurosawa Hoshino led them toward the living room. Sure enough, Takahashi Ryoichi sat bound to a chair, face bloodied, eyes wild with fury.
Beside him lay a discarded cloak and a bandage-wrapped wig—the props he'd used to fake his "large belly" earlier.
"Takahashi!" Kakutani Hiroki lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. "Did you kill Chikako? Are you out of your mind?!"
Kurosawa Hoshino turned to the girls. "What happened upstairs?"
Ran and Sonoko recounted what they'd seen.
As he listened, Kurosawa Hoshino stroked his chin. He remembered how Takahashi had stared at him on the suspension bridge.
He recognized me. Panicked that things would get complicated. Moved early.
If that was true, then Ikeda Chikako never stood a chance. Fate had already written her end.
Takahashi remained silent.
Ayako Suzuki and Ōta Masaru pressed him for answers. They were friends. They deserved to know why.
Finally, Takahashi spoke.
Years ago, their circle had included another girl—Atsuko. Gentle. Kind. Close to Takahashi during university.
Two years ago, she hanged herself.
Takahashi revealed why: Atsuko had written a novel. She'd dreamed of becoming a writer. She'd told Takahashi all about it.
Then Ikeda Chikako stole it.
Chikako published it as her own. Won awards. Became famous.
The day Chikako received that award was the day Atsuko killed herself. Her last words to Takahashi: "I'll never trust anyone again."
Takahashi finished his story and called himself a champion of justice.
Kurosawa Hoshino's expression didn't change. "Let me ask you something."
"If you're a champion of justice, why did you attack me?"
Takahashi's eyes blazed. "High school detective Kurosawa Hoshino! You showed up, and I knew my plan could fall apart. I had to move early. And I was right—you couldn't stand a single question. You called us all down immediately."
"I'm asking you." Kurosawa Hoshino's voice stayed flat. "You call yourself a champion of justice. So why did you try to kill me? Is that what a champion of justice does?"
Silence.
Everyone stared at Takahashi.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Under their gaze, he suddenly felt exposed—like a clown whose mask had slipped.
Kurosawa Hoshino's voice was calm. "Seems like you're not a champion of justice at all. You're just a murderer afraid of being caught."
Takahashi opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Instinctively, he tried to kneel—to beg, to confess, to do something—only to remember he was tied to a chair.
He couldn't even kneel.