Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The afternoon had started out like any other in Tokyo.

The sky was bright, the streets bustling, and the city alive with its usual rhythm. Ran Mouri had left for the supermarket a little after 3 PM. She’d told Conan with a smile—one of those warm, gentle smiles that made him feel like he belonged—that she’d be back in time to make curry for dinner. He’d mumbled a reply, face buried in a book, pretending to be more interested in detective trivia than her voice.

But hours passed.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, bathing the city in amber and crimson. Neon lights flickered on. The hands of the clock in the Mouri Detective Agency kept ticking. It was past 7 PM now.

Still no Ran.

Conan’s unease had started as a whisper—a vague, almost superstitious sense that something was off. She might’ve gotten caught up in something. A friend. A delay. A long line at the store. It wasn’t uncommon. Ran was always considerate. She’d call if she’d be late.

But she hadn’t called. Not once.

Conan called her phone. It rang. Once. Twice. Straight to voicemail.

“Ran-neechan, it’s me. Are you okay? You said you’d be back hours ago. Call me, alright?”

He hung up and tried again. Again, voicemail.

The feeling in his chest spread like black ink through water—thick, creeping, unrelenting dread.

He tried again, this time with more urgency.

“Ran-neechan, it’s me—Conan. Just tell me you're okay. Please.”

No reply.

He stood up from the couch, the book slipping from his lap and falling to the floor unnoticed. His fingers flew across the keys of his phone as he pulled up her recent messages. Nothing unusual. A photo of some vegetables she was considering buying. A sticker she’d sent him last night—an anime girl scolding a child. Nothing that screamed goodbye.

He clicked open her GPS location app. Disabled. She never turned it off.

And then something inside him cracked.

He grabbed his coat and raced out the door.

8:30 PM – Beika City Police Box

Takagi and Sato looked up as Conan burst in, panting.

“I need to file a missing persons report,” he said, voice sharp with fear. “Ran-neechan. She never came back.”

Takagi’s brow furrowed. “Maybe she just got—”

“She left at 3 PM. Her phone’s off. She never turns it off. She said she’d be home by 5. It’s past 8.”

Sato exchanged a look with Takagi. They knew Ran. Everyone in the precinct did. A case involving Kogoro Mouri usually meant Ran too—either scolding her father or admonishing Conan for disturbing the crime scene. The girl was dependable, grounded. This wasn’t like her.

“Alright,” Sato said gently, standing up. “We’ll start a trace. Do you have a recent picture of her? We'll make an official post.”

Conan nodded, hands trembling as he pulled one up on his phone—Ran smiling in the park, sunlight dancing in her hair. The sight of her in the image made his throat tighten.

“We’ll notify the local hospitals, comb through security cameras. You should contact her friends too. Ask around or let them know.”

9:12 PM – Mouri Detective Agency

Conan sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead as the room filled with the echo of his own voice.

“Voicemail again,” he muttered.

He tried Eri Kisaki next.

“Hello?”

“Eri-obasan. It’s Conan. Ran-neechan… she didn’t come home. We don’t know where she is. Have you heard from her?”

A long pause. Then, “What?”

“I—I think something happened. The police are looking into it. But her phone’s off, and I can’t—” His voice cracked. “She said she’d come back. She didn’t.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Then Sonoko.

At first, her voice was playful. “Brat, this better be important."

“It is. Is Ran-neechan with you? Did she contact you since this afternoon?”

"She's not. The last time I talk to her was this morning. Why?" 

"She disappeared." 

Her tone changed instantly. “What do you mean disappeared? Did she leave a note?”

“No. Nothing.”

“I'll try calling.”

Next, Hattori and Kazuha.

He could barely get the words out. "Did you hear anything from Ran-neechan?"

Kazuha's voice was dripping with confusion when she answered. "No, not since a week ago. Why? What is it, Conan-kun?" 

“Ran-neechan’s missing.”

“What…? You’re joking—no, wait. This is real, isn’t it?”

Hattori called back seconds later. “We’ll take the bullet train down. First one out of Osaka. Hang in there, Kudo.”

11:00 PM – Shinichi’s Bedroom (Kudo Residence)

He hadn’t used this room in months. The dust clung to the bookshelves like ash. But the moment Conan stepped inside and closed the door, he dropped the facade. He took out the prototype antidote Haibara had given him recently for emergencies. One dose. It wouldn’t last long. 

Maybe he wasn't thinking logically. Or perhaps it was the desperation calling him. He knew he would be wasting an antidote. But right now, he needed to be Shinichi.

The pain was sharp, like fire threading through his veins. When it passed, he stood upright, taller, older—Shinichi Kudo once again.

He picked up his other phone and stared at Ran’s number.

He hit record.

“Ran… it’s me. Conan called me. He said he can't contact you. Please. Just… where are you? Please call me.”

He paused. The silence on the other end was worse than screaming.

“I walked to the market. I retraced your steps. Nobody remembers seeing you. You just… vanished. Like smoke. I hate this. I hate this so much. If someone did this to you… I swear I’ll find them. I’ll tear everything down if I have to.”

He texted next.

Shinichi: “Ran, please. Say something. Anything. I need to know you're safe.”

Shinichi: “I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can't function without you.”

Shinichi: “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Then more voicemails. More texts. Some just silence. Some pleas for a response, a call back—anything. 

Professor Agasa found him at 1 AM, hunched over the desk, shaking.

“Shinichi,” Agasa whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll find her.”

“She’s gone,” he said, his voice hoarse. “She’s just… gone. And I don’t know if she’s cold or scared or hurt or worse. And I can’t do anything.”

“You will,” Agasa said, fierce now. “You’re a brilliant detective. And Ran-kun’s waiting for you, wherever she is.”

Shinichi looked at his hands.

“I told myself I’d always protect her. I lied.”

He looked at the phone again. One unread message.

But it wasn’t from Ran.

It was from Haibara.

Ai Haibara: “We found something. A surveillance feed. You’ll want to see this.”

His pulse surged.

Still no answers.

But the storm had begun.

Chapter Text

The room was dimly lit, soaked in the tired orange glow of early morning. Conan sat slouched on the couch, a thin blanket draped over his shoulders. His eyes were hollow—dry from crying, sleepless, locked in a continuous cycle of scrolling through Ran’s messages, her last-known locations. Useless. All of it.

The antidote had worn off around 4 AM.

He had been on the phone with Hattori, still Shinichi at the time, when the wave of dizziness hit. Sharp pain shot through his limbs, the familiar, unbearable sensation of his bones compressing, his voice cracking, body shrinking. He collapsed to the floor of his bedroom, choking on half a scream. The call cut off.

The pain passed. Shinichi Kudo was gone. Conan Edogawa remained. A helpless child once again.

The taste of bile lingered in his mouth.

And Ran was still gone.

7:02 AM – Mouri Detective Agency

The door slammed open.

“Oi! What the hell is this, Conan? You got Eri all riled up for nothing? Ran’s probably out with her friends, or just forgot her phone somewhere. Teenagers, I swear.”

Kogoro Mouri stumbled in, yawning, still in his sleepwear. A hint of beer clung to him from the night before. He looked over at Conan with irritation.

“She’s not just out,” Conan said, voice strained. “I’ve told the police already. She didn’t come home. No one’s seen her. Her GPS was disabled. She hasn’t read any messages or picked up her phone.”

“Calm down,” Kogoro grumbled. “She probably stayed at Sonoko’s and forgot to call.”

“I called Sonoko-neechan,” Conan snapped. “She was supposed to meet her this afternoon. Never showed.”

Kogoro hesitated, frown deepening. “You sure?”

“I’ve been sure since last night.”

Before he could say more, the door opened again—more controlled this time.

Eri Kisaki entered, dressed immaculately in a suit, despite the frantic energy around her. Her heels clicked sharply on the wooden floor as she walked in, and for once, her mask of calm seemed to flicker. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on Conan.

Still no Ran.

Her lips thinned.

“You didn’t call me when it happened,” she said, looking at Kogoro.

Kogoro blinked. “I didn’t know she was missing until ten seconds ago!”

“You’re her father,” Eri shot back, voice sharp. “You’re supposed to know when something’s wrong!”

Conan stood. “Please don’t fight…”

“She’s been gone for more than twelve hours,” Eri continued, ignoring him. “She always calls me if she’s staying over somewhere. Every single time. You should have noticed earlier.”

Kogoro bristled. “I’m not a mind reader! She said she was going to the store, not the moon!”

Eri looked ready to fire another barb, but something in her expression shifted. Her eyes softened, just slightly. She took a breath, held it, then exhaled with trembling restraint.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I’m just scared.”

Kogoro sat down heavily in his chair, burying his face in his hands. “So am I.”

9:12 AM – Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Division 1

Inspector Juzo Megure stood behind his desk, listening intently as Conan, Eri, and Kogoro explained the situation. He hadn’t said a word yet, and that alone was unnerving.

When the last detail had been shared, Megure turned toward the window. He folded his arms across his chest.

“I’ve known Ran since she was a little girl,” he said quietly. “Back when she used to bring her father’s lunch to the precinct and sit quietly on the bench, kicking her legs in that oversized school uniform.”

Kogoro looked away. His lips twitched, as if he were suppressing emotion.

“She’s level-headed. Smart. Reliable. Not the type to disappear.”

Eri stepped forward. “We need this filed as a high-priority case. Please.”

Megure turned around. There was something tight in his jaw.

“It already is.”

Kogoro’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

“This is not the Division responsible for the case, but I'll see to it. I’m requesting full access to street surveillance along the routes near your agency and the supermarket she was headed to. If anyone saw her… or took her… we’ll find them.”

“Thank you,” Eri said, softly.

Megure looked at Conan. “You said she left at 3 PM. No camera footage yet?”

Conan shook his head. “Haibara said she might’ve found something on a street cam, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

“I’ll get my tech division on it.”

12:34 PM – Alley Behind Beika Station

The wind howled down the narrow corridor between buildings. Conan stood by the dumpster, staring at the empty sidewalk.

He’d come here alone, against his better judgment, driven by some wild hope that maybe, just maybe, Ran had walked here. That maybe she dropped something. That he’d find a clue, any clue.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

His hand clenched around his phone.

He opened the voice message app again, flipping to his most recent recording from when he was Shinichi.

He hit play.

“I told myself I’d always protect her. I lied.”

The voice sounded too calm. Too composed. That was the worst part. Shinichi’s voice had carried hope, determination.

But Conan felt neither of those things now.

He sank to his knees.

“She always looked after me,” he whispered to the wind. “Even when I was the one lying to her face every day… pretending to be someone else. And now that she’s gone…”

His eyes filled again.

“…I can’t even carry out the only promise I made to her.”

1:02 PM – Temporary Task Force Room, MPD

The search effort had been given its own space—a room filled with monitors, printed maps, and pictures of Ran tacked to corkboards.

“Last confirmed sighting was 3:12 PM,” a young officer said, pointing at a screen. “Storefront camera caught her crossing the street toward the supermarket. Then… nothing.”

Megure rubbed his chin. “What about traffic cams?”

“Checking them now.”

Kogoro and Eri sat side by side, watching. It was strange, being together like this—silent, unified not by affection but by grief. The tension between them hadn’t disappeared, but it had become something else. Something shared.

Conan stood by the window, hands in his pockets, eyes distant.

His phone vibrated. A message from Haibara.

Ai Haibara: “The footage I found is corrupted. Ran-san passes a corner, but the video cuts out just before she disappears. I'm trying to recover it.”

He texted back:

Conan: “Try everything. Please.”

And then again, more quietly:

Conan: “I don’t know how much longer I can pretend she’s just... lost.”

6:45 PM – Mouri Detective Agency

The sun was setting again.

Another day without Ran.

Conan sat alone on her bed, the faint scent of her shampoo still clinging to her pillow. He rested his hand on her comforter, as if half-expecting it to stir.

He hated himself.

He hated the feeling of being reduced to a child.

He hated how useless he was.

He hated how he never told her how much he needed her, how her presence kept him grounded.

A photo frame on the nightstand caught his eye—Ran smiling beside him, Shinichi, at the time they went to Tropical Land.

He turned it face-down.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to the empty room. “Even if I have to burn the whole world down to do it.”

Chapter Text

The door to the agency burst open with a bang that startled Conan enough to jolt upright on the couch. He hadn't been sleeping. Sleep was a luxury now—too far gone, smothered by thoughts, guilt, and the empty silence left behind in Ran’s absence.

“Conan-kun!” Kazuha’s voice rang out.

She rushed in ahead of her childhood friend, eyes scanning the room with frantic energy. When she saw Conan, she hurried over and knelt beside him.

“Is it true?” she asked, voice trembling. “Is Ran-chan really… gone?”

Conan couldn’t find his voice. He nodded once, unable to meet her gaze.

Heiji stepped in more quietly. His usual playfulness was gone, replaced by a grim expression Conan had only seen in the aftermath of the toughest cases. He didn’t say anything at first. He walked slowly toward Conan and crouched down beside the couch.

“You look like hell.”

Conan looked up at him slowly. “She disappeared. Without a single trace. We can't find her.”

Hattori’s brows furrowed. “Don't say that.”

“I should’ve gone with her. I should’ve—” Conan's voice cracked. “—been watching her like I always do.”

Kazuha sat beside him, her fingers clenched tightly together. “She’s so strong. She wouldn’t just disappear like that, right? Not unless someone took her.”

“I don’t know,” Conan whispered. “That’s the problem. I don’t know anything.”

Hattori placed a firm hand on Conan’s shoulder. He sat down and whispered to him, “Hey. You’re Shinichi Kudo. You’ve solved murders that have stumped seasoned detectives. If anyone can find her, it’s you. But you can’t fall apart now. We’ll find her—together.”

Conan looked up, his expression fragile, but there was a flicker of something. A spark. A thread of strength Hattori was trying to tie back into place.

“…Yeah.”

The door opened again.

This time it was Sonoko.

She wore sunglasses and a long designer coat, though she quickly took them off upon entering. Her face was pale and devoid of the usual flair, her eyes bloodshot.

“Tell me this is a mistake,” she said, voice brittle as glass. “Tell me she just ran off to Kyoto for some air.”

No one answered.

She let out a ragged breath and slumped down at the dining table. “I already pulled favors through my family's connections. The Suzuki Security Service is combing through every piece of satellite and street surveillance we can get our hands on. Nothing so far. But we’re not stopping.”

Kazuha sat beside her. “Thank you, Sonoko-chan…”

Sonoko sniffed. “Ran. Where could she be? Where would she go?”

Conan silently turned his gaze to the floor. Her words echoing the voice inside his head.

Megure and Takagi were poring over the surveillance feeds once again. Behind them, a large digital map lit up the room, dotted with blinking markers. Half a dozen officers were hunched over computers, combing hours of footage, piecing together a route.

“All feeds show Ran Mouri walking alone toward the supermarket,” Takagi reported. “She’s seen on camera at 3:12 PM crossing the intersection. That’s the last clear image we have. No sign of a struggle. No suspicious figures trailing her. She just… walks out of frame and never reappears.”

Megure rubbed his eyes. “No incoming calls, no purchases, no contact with anyone on record. We’ve ruled out accident, at least for now. Hospitals have reported nothing. Her phone’s GPS was disabled or tampered with. It’s almost like she was… erased.”

“Or deliberately taken somewhere no one could see her,” Sato added.

“And no ransom demand,” Megure murmured. “No message. Nothing.”

Conan stood quietly in the schoolyard while Genta, Mitsuhiko, Ayumi, and Haibara gathered around him. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes older than any seven-year-old’s should be.

“You mean Ran-neechan is missing?” Ayumi asked, eyes wide.

“She hasn’t come home since two nights ago,” Conan confirmed.

Genta clenched his fists. “But she’s super strong! No way someone could just take her!”

Mitsuhiko frowned deeply. “Unless it was someone very clever… or someone she trusted.”

Ayumi looked like she might cry. “She’s always taking care of us. She’s the nicest. She makes lunches for you, right, Conan-kun? She always looks out for us. What if she’s… what if she’s hurt?”

“She’s not dead,” Conan said too sharply. The others stared at him. He took a breath, lowering his voice. “She’s not. I’d feel it.”

Haibara, watching silently until now, finally spoke. “I tried tracing the fragment of footage from the camera near the alley where she vanished. It was corrupted—suspiciously so. Like someone erased her path on purpose.”

Conan turned to her. “And?”

“I ran it through every data recovery program I have. Nothing. There’s no digital trail left to follow.”

Silence.

Then: “It’s like someone knew exactly how to cover their tracks.”

The lights were low. Kogoro had gone quiet, pacing the room in short, tense bursts. Eri sat at the desk, flipping through a list of Ran’s acquaintances and checking each one off as they were confirmed safe or unaware.

Conan sat in Ran’s room again, staring at her bookshelf. She had a note pinned on her corkboard—“Don’t forget to get tofu!”—with a smiley face she’d doodled beside it.

His chest hurt.

Hattori came in quietly.

“We’ll get through this,” he said. “Even if it’s hell. We’ll pull her back from wherever she is.”

Conan turned, his voice low. “I’m scared, Hattori.”

“I am too,” Hattori admitted. “But we can’t stop. Not until we find her.”

At Professor Agasa's house... 

Haibara stared at her screen.

Lines of data. Code. Fragments.

But nothing. Just a ghost trail and corrupted pixels.

She leaned back and exhaled. “Where did you go, Ran-san?”

Chapter Text

It had been six days since Ran vanished.

The apartment above the Mouri Detective Agency was no longer a home—it was a command center. Coffee cups lay cold and forgotten on desks, paper printouts littered the floor, and pins stuck maps with red markers spread across the walls. Everyone who knew Ran was chasing shadows. Leads came in and dried up. The silence was constant, and it clawed at their nerves.

Kogoro Mouri had given up drinking. Even his afternoon beer sat untouched on the table. Instead, he sat on the couch in a rumpled tracksuit, phone in hand, calling yet another number from his long list of colleagues.

“Inspector Yokomizo,” Kogoro said into the receiver, eyes dull but focused. “This is Mouri… Yes, I know it’s been a while. I wouldn’t be calling unless it was serious. My daughter, Ran… she disappeared six days ago. No sign. No ransom. Nothing.”

Pause.

“No, I’m not drunk,” Kogoro snapped. “Just tired. Please—if you hear anything, even a rumor, contact me or Megure. She could be anywhere. Thanks.”

He hung up, exhaling. Next number.

“Gunma’s police chief is off duty today,” Conan said quietly from the other room. He walked in with a list in his hands. “But he’s forwarding the case to a regional investigator.”

Kogoro looked over. “You called them all?”

“Not all. I left Kanagawa and Shizuoka to you,” Conan said as he sat at the table. “Inspectors Yamato and Morofushi, as well as Detective Yui know Ran-neechan. I called them too.”

Kogoro grunted. He was quieter than usual—gruffer, more withdrawn. But he wasn’t sitting idle. Ran was his daughter. His only daughter.

“Y’know, I never thought this’d happen,” he muttered. “Not to her. She’s smart. Strong. She could knock down ten punks if she needed to.”

“I thought so too,” Conan said hollowly.

Kogoro hesitated, then added, “I… I should’ve walked her to the market. Maybe if I just…”

“She always went alone,” Conan said quietly. “We all did. That’s the problem. We thought she’d always come back.”

“Ran Mouri’s gone?” Heizo Hattori asked, brows creased.

Heiji nodded grimly. “Almost a week now. We’ve checked Tokyo, expanded to neighboring prefectures, but… nothing. She might’ve been taken. Or left somehow. There’s no trace.”

Heizo leaned forward. “You think it’s organized?”

“We’re not ruling it out,” Heiji said. “I’ve already asked the usual sources. But we need more eyes on the ground. If someone matching Ran-san’s description pops up in Osaka or anywhere near Kansai…”

“I’ll notify all units in the region. Quietly,” Heizo said, already pulling out his phone. “You need anything else?”

Heiji nodded. “Keep the channels open. We don’t know who’s behind this.”

Kazuha had called an old friend she’d made during a school event in Kyoto. With Heiji’s help, they had reached a sergeant in the Kyoto station.

“Ran Mouri?” the woman on the other end asked, looking at the file Heiji had sent over. “I know her. Not personally, but her father’s name rings a bell. The Sleeping Kogoro, right?”

“That’s her,” Kazuha said. “Please… anything strange, a girl showing up in your area, amnesia cases, reports of someone who might fit her profile—we’re desperate.”

“We’ll keep our eyes open. I’ll notify Inspector Ayanokoji too.”

The clock ticked softly in the quiet. Outside the window, the city’s lights blurred behind a thin sheen of mist.

Conan sat by the desk in his father's study, phone in hand. 

He sent another voicemail to Ran—as Shinichi. 

“Ran… it’s me again. I’m still looking. Everyone is. I know you probably can't answer… or maybe you don’t even hear this. But please, if you can, come back. Just… come back.”

He closed his eyes. Even if he had Shinichi’s voice… it meant nothing if she never picked up.

A sudden rustle outside caught his ear.

Conan turned, eyes narrowing. Footsteps.

Then, a soft tap against the windowpane.

He slipped off the chair, padded to the window, and slid it open—expecting wind or a bird.

Instead, a gloved hand extended a card into the room.

It shimmered with familiar elegance.

"From the Phantom to the Child Detective – A Night Visit, No Tricks"

“Kaitou Kid,” Conan muttered.

And there he was.

The moonlight framed him like a figure from a painting—white suit pristine, cape fluttering slightly, monocle gleaming.

“I heard,” he said quietly, stepping in through the window. “Your princess is missing.”

Conan didn’t speak. He simply looked at him, wary.

Kid removed his monocle.

“This isn’t about games,” he said. “You’re not just Tokyo’s watchdog anymore, Tantei-kun. You’re a boy looking for the one person you’d trade everything to protect.”

“Why are you here?” Conan asked.

Kid’s expression softened. “Because I know what it’s like to be helpless. I’ve had people taken from me too. And because my network reaches places yours doesn’t.”

Conan’s brows furrowed. “…What are you offering?”

“Information. Surveillance. Movement between places the police can’t easily reach,” Kid said. “I’ll keep my ears open on the underworld circuit. If this was a kidnapping by anyone with even a hint of infamy, it’s bound to echo somewhere.”

Conan was silent for a long moment.

Then he nodded slowly. “Fine. But no theatrics. No calling cards.”

Kid smirked faintly. “Only when you ask for one, Detective.”

He turned toward the window again. “You’ll see her again.”

“I’m not giving up,” Conan said quietly, more to himself.

Kid glanced back. “I didn’t think you would.”

And then, like mist under the moonlight, he was gone.

Conan lay on the couch again, staring up at the ceiling. Thoughts churned.

Could it have been the Black Organization?

It was a possibility. One he didn’t want to consider. If they had her…

No. He couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

He closed his eyes.

Ran was still out there.

And he was going to find her.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

The flyers were everywhere.

Every lamppost, train station bulletin board, café entrance, and community center wall bore her picture. Ran Mouri. Seventeen. Missing. Photographs of her smiling, one in her school uniform, another holding a paper fan from a festival last summer. The bright girl with kindness in her eyes now stared back like a ghost—beautiful, vivid, and utterly absent.

News stations had picked up the story. "Daughter of the Sleeping Kogoro Vanishes Without a Trace." It had caused a brief stir in the media. But as days passed and no new developments surfaced, interest waned. Only the ones who loved her remained stubborn in their vigilance.

Kogoro Mouri sat behind his desk, unshaven and unusually quiet. His once-vibrant bellow and smug laugh had dulled into silence. A small pile of unopened mail rested in a corner—letters from potential clients, offers for new cases, and magazines he used to read during downtime.

He hadn't accepted a single detective case since Ran's disappearance.

No new clients. No late-night drinking. No laughter. Only searching.

When someone knocked on the office door asking for help finding a missing cat, he said nothing and simply closed the door.

Conan went through the motions of school life like a ghost in a child’s body. The Detective Boys noticed he barely touched his lunch anymore. Haibara sometimes slipped him energy bars, her gaze always shadowed with unspoken worry.

Then the evenings came—and he disappeared.

He always told Kogoro he had “homework to finish.” But each night, Conan slipped away from the detective agency and made his way to the quiet, echoing halls of the Kudo mansion.

There, in the dim lamplight of his father’s study, he dug through maps, case reports, city camera logs, and communications from contacts across Japan. He pinned notes, photos, and locations to an ever-growing investigation wall.

Each night, he left with more questions than answers.

His fingers trembled as he pressed the long-distance call.

His parents answered within seconds.

“Shin-chan?” Yukiko’s voice trembled softly, her usual cheer replaced by quiet concern. “Sweetheart, how are you?”

“I’m… I’m managing,” he said, swallowing hard.

“Still no sign of her?” Yusaku asked, his tone serious and calm.

Conan hesitated. “Nothing. Not even false leads. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

A pause.

“You’re doing everything you can,” Yusaku said. “We know what she means to you. We’re already moving things on our end—contacts, old friends. I’ve asked an acquaintance in the British embassy to quietly monitor unusual immigration records. Just in case she was taken overseas.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Conan said. “I just… I wish I could do more.”

“You’re already carrying too much,” Yukiko said gently. “Just don’t forget to eat. Or sleep. She’d be upset if she came back and saw what a wreck you became.”

He gave a short, breathless chuckle. “I’ll try.”

They talked a little longer, until he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice anymore. Then they said goodnight.

“Yo, Kudo,” came Hattori’s voice one afternoon. “Just checkin’ in.”

Conan sat on the roof of the detective agency, staring at the clouds. “Hey.”

“You holdin’ up?”

“…Barely.”

A long pause.

“I get it,” Hattori said quietly. “It’s hell not knowing. But my dad’s got Osaka on alert. Every station. We’ve got posters out here too. People’re talking. She won’t stay hidden forever.”

“Thanks, Hattori.”

“Don’t thank me. Just hang on. If you crumble, who’s gonna figure it out?”

That made Conan pause. “You know I don’t want to be strong right now.”

“I know,” Hattori said. “But you are.”

Despite everything, trouble never waited.

A client’s lost heirloom. A mysterious poisoning at a tea house. A suspicious fall from a balcony.

Conan’s eyes always sharpened in the middle of a case. His mind, like a well-oiled machine, still picked apart clues with frightening precision. Whether it was a telltale stain, a lying witness, or an overlooked motive, he uncovered the truth every time.

It was the only time he felt alive.

The moment the police took the culprit away and the scene settled, a crushing emptiness crept back in.

Because the one case he wanted to solve most had no clues. No timeline. No witness.

“Conan-kun,” Officer Takagi said gently as he walked him out of a crime scene. "Let us get you home." 

“Thanks,” Conan said, voice tired.

Sato crouched next to him, her eyes soft. “How are you holding up? And Mouri-san?”

Conan shrugged. “We’re doing what we can. He… doesn’t talk much. But he’s trying.”

Sato touched his shoulder. “We’re not giving up either. We'll find Ran-chan.”

Conan nodded, too choked up to speak.

He sat at the Kudo mansion again, staring at the tangled strings on the board. The wall held details from over thirty interviews, fifty sightings, and nearly a hundred lines of inquiry.

None led to Ran.

Every theory had turned to dust. No ransom. No body. No phone call. No clue. She had simply gone… like a stone dropped in a bottomless lake.

“I’m sorry I didn’t walk with you,” he thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you not to go out alone that day. I should’ve known. I should’ve sensed something was off.”

He clenched his hands tightly.

No. He wasn’t giving up.

He couldn’t.

Because somewhere—Ran was still waiting for him.

Chapter Text

It had been twenty-four days since Ran Mouri disappeared.

Twenty-four days of unanswered questions, silent phones, and sleepless nights.

Twenty-four days of posters fluttering like whispers through the city. Her face was everywhere—on lampposts, bulletin boards, convenience store windows. Every image felt like a slap to the heart for those who knew her.

The headlines that once called her "Sleeping Kogoro's Daughter" faded from the news. The media cycle moved on, but those closest to her refused to stop.

The world might’ve let go—but they hadn't.

"Excuse me, did Ran talk to you before she... went missing?" Sonoko Suzuki’s voice rang down the hallway.

She looked tired. Her perfectly done hair now tied in a hasty ponytail. Her uniform rumpled from rushing between classes, questioning everyone who might know anything.

The boy she had cornered scratched his head nervously. "Uhh... she mentioned needing to buy groceries after school that day? But that’s it."

Sonoko’s eyes narrowed. "Groceries? Did she say where? Which store?"

"No, sorry... I thought she was fine. She even smiled..."

That was what made it worse. Ran had smiled that day. No hint, no sign, no goodbye.

She was just... gone.

Sonoko sighed, frustrated. “If you remember anything—no matter how small—tell me or Conan-kun, okay?”

She moved on to the next classroom.

Ran was her best friend. Her sister in all but blood.

She wasn't going to sit around waiting.

The smaller search party was also still hard at work—on scooters, bikes, and their own short legs.

“Any new flyers, Mitsuhiko-kun?” Ayumi asked as they gathered near the park.

“I printed twenty more. I added Ran-san’s favorite scarf photo—maybe it’ll help jog memories,” he said, handing a stack to Genta.

“We’re covering the shopping district today!” Genta declared. “We’re gonna find her!”

They went door to door. Some people smiled kindly, some brushed them off, but most looked at the flyer and gave a pained shake of the head.

“We miss her too,” one elderly shopkeeper told them. “Such a nice girl... always helped carry heavy groceries.”

“She helped me once too,” Ayumi said quietly. “When I tripped and dropped my lunchbox... she sat with me and cleaned it up.”

The three stood still for a moment, remembering.

Then they continued.

At Agasa’s home, a dozen video feeds played across multiple screens.

Haibara clicked through street cameras with narrowed eyes. “Timestamp doesn’t match. Rewind ten seconds.”

Agasa leaned over, squinting. “Any luck?”

“No.” Her voice was flat. “Still nothing. Either she avoided every visible camera or someone made her disappear without a trace.”

“I don’t like that second possibility,” Agasa said.

“Neither do I,” she replied softly.

Despite her calm tone, her hands had begun to tremble.

Conan slumped in the leather chair in his father’s old study. The boards behind him were covered in threads, maps, and photos. The case wall.

The one case he couldn’t solve.

Ran’s case.

He stared at it in silence, eyes dry from exhaustion. He hadn’t cried. Not since the first few days. But the pressure hadn’t lifted. It had settled into his bones instead.

He thought of the way Ran used to talk to him—as Conan—her voice filled with warmth.

“You sure act grown up for a kid, Conan-kun.”

“You always disappear just like Shinichi when there's a case involved... isn’t that funny?”

“But I worry about you both, you know.”

His phone buzzed.

It was a message from Hattori.

Hattori: Osaka police got nothing, but we’re still watching. You okay?

Conan stared at the screen.

Conan: It’s hard. I miss her. But I’m not giving up.

A reply came almost instantly.

Hattori: Neither are we. You just focus. Kazuha and I’ll take care of things over here. We’ll find her. Promise.

He set the phone down slowly, turning his eyes back to the board.

And then... a whisper of movement.

The curtains fluttered.

“Don’t you ever sleep, tantei-kun?” came a familiar, smug voice.

Conan’s eyes flicked toward the window. Kaitou Kid stood there in full regalia, hat tilted, cape trailing.

“You again,” Conan muttered.

“I said I’d keep my ears open, didn’t I?” Kid stepped inside and handed him a clear plastic sleeve.

Inside was a piece of paper.

Conan squinted—and froze.

“I know that handwriting,” he whispered. “It’s hers.”

Kid gave a small nod. “Found near a small rural station in Niigata. Wind carried it into an alley. Almost ended up in a gutter.”

It was a grocery list:

Milk. Green onions. Soy sauce. Daikon. Ginger. Curry blocks.

“She always made a list,” Conan murmured, voice hollow with awe. “Even if it was just for three items. She said she didn’t trust her memory after a long day.”

“She wrote that list before disappearing,” Kid said. “The handwriting’s consistent with the pen she always carries too.”

“But Niigata... that’s so far from Tokyo,” Conan muttered. “How did it get there?”

“Good question,” Kid said, folding his arms. “Was she taken there? Did she go willingly and drop it? Was it planted?”

Conan couldn’t answer. His fingers brushed the paper as though touching it might bring her back.

“This is the first real thing we’ve found,” he said.

Kid’s expression softened beneath the brim of his hat. “I thought you’d want to see it. I’ll keep looking.”

He turned to leave.

“Kaitou Kid,” Conan said suddenly.

The thief paused.

“Thank you.”

Kid just gave him a two-finger salute. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He vanished through the window.

Conan remained there in the study, clutching the grocery list in both hands.

His eyes fell to the bottom corner of the paper where Ran had scribbled a note:

Remember to get Conan-kun’s favorite brand of curry!

He smiled bitterly. His throat tightened.

“All this time... she’s been the one waiting for me,” he whispered. “Waiting for me to come back. To keep my promises. And now... now I’m the one waiting.”

He pressed the paper to his forehead, trying to hold in the ache that wanted to spill from his chest.

“I’m sorry, Ran. I should’ve watched over you better. I won’t stop until I find you. No matter how long it takes.”

Outside, the rain began to fall.

But for the first time in weeks—he had something.

A thread.

He wouldn’t let go.

Chapter Text

Conan stood in front of Kogoro Mouri in the dim living room of the detective agency. The paper—the grocery list—lay between them on the table, flattened out under the glass ashtray. The faint ink of Ran's handwriting stared up at them like a ghost.

"Where did you get this?" Kogoro asked, voice low and tired.

Conan hesitated. "Shinichi-niichan found it. From Niigata Prefecture. He said to give it to you, and that he's searching for more clues.”

Kogoro narrowed his eyes, then released a sigh. "I thought that detective brat forgot about Ran already.”

"No!" Conan abruptly said. "Shinichi-niichan cares about Ran-neechan a lot." 

Kogoro let out a grunt. "I know that." Then he fixed his eyes on the note, dismissing the conversation about Shinichi.

“That's her handwriting. No doubt about it,” he murmured, touching the paper with the tip of his fingers like it might vanish. “She always does that weird slant on her 's' in soy sauce. She always make a shopping list.”

Conan forced a small smile, but the ache in his chest didn't lessen.

“She wrote that list the morning she disappeared. I remember. We had hotcakes and she said we were out of milk.”

Kogoro exhaled heavily and sat down, gripping the edge of the table. “Niigata though… That’s so far. How did it end up there?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Conan said, sitting across from him. “Did someone take her there? Did she try to leave? Was she transported?”

Kogoro looked up, his eyes dark. “Or was it dropped to throw us off?”

“I thought of that too,” Conan said. “But why leave a list? If it’s meant as misdirection, it’s too specific. Too personal.”

Kogoro rubbed his chin. “If someone found her—hurt her—they might’ve taken something from her bag.”

“Or…” Conan hesitated. “She might’ve been trying to leave a clue.”

They sat in silence, both staring at the scrap of paper like it might suddenly speak.

Then Kogoro stood. “I’m going to Niigata.”

Conan straightened. “I’m coming with you.”

Kogoro’s brow furrowed. “No. You’re not.”

“I can help. I—”

“You’re just a kid,” Kogoro snapped. Then he sighed, softening his voice. “But you’ve got one hell of a sharp mind. Especially when it comes to her.”

Conan blinked.

“You’ve always been there for her,” Kogoro continued. “Even when I wasn’t. I know you care about Ran, Conan.”

The boy said nothing.

“You need to stay in Tokyo. Keep an eye out. If she comes back or if anything comes up here, you’ll be in the best position to act. Go stay with Agasa for now.”

Conan lowered his eyes but nodded. “All right. But, Occhan, keep your phone on.”

“I will.” Kogoro put on his coat and grabbed the list. “We’re not stopping until we find her.”

As he turned to leave, Conan stood quietly behind him. “You’re right about one thing,” Conan whispered to himself. “When it comes to Ran, I don’t think I’ve ever thought more clearly.”

Conan was back at the Kudo mansion, surrounded by quiet and fading light. The study was neat except for his growing pile of maps, documents, and notes on the desk. His laptop was open, the screen dimmed.

He turned the dial on the voice-changing bowtie and hit record.

"Ran... it’s me again."

His voice was Shinichi’s now, calm and rich.

"We found something today. A grocery list. Yours. It was in Niigata. I don’t know how it got there. I don’t know if you put it there. But it’s real."

He swallowed.

"Every time I left, you waited. You never asked me to stop. You just… waited."

He leaned back in the chair, voice heavy.

"And now I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you. And I hate it. But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as I have to. Just… come back to me, Ran. Please."

He ended the message and hit send.

Then he dialed another number.

Hattori answered after one ring. “Yeah? Kudo?”

“I found something,” Conan said without preamble.

“What?” Hattori’s voice sharpened.

“A shopping list. Ran’s. It turned up in Niigata. Someone I know found it, and it’s unmistakably hers.”

There was a long pause. “Niigata? That’s hours away.”

“I know. We don’t know how it got there. It might’ve been planted, or she could’ve dropped it somehow. Occhan’s going there.”

“You’re not going with him?”

“He told me to stay and watch from here. I wanted to go, but…” Conan trailed off.

Hattori sighed. “He’s not wrong. If something comes up in Tokyo, you’ll want to be there.”

They both paused.

“What if someone forced her there?” Hattori said slowly.

“Then we’re dealing with an abduction. But there’s no ransom. No threats. Nothing.”

“Could she have gone willingly?”

“Not without telling someone. Especially not without her phone.”

“Hey, Kudo, could the Organization be involved?”

“I’ve considered it,” Conan admitted. “But there’s no signs. No activity. Not even from Haibara’s side. They’ve been too quiet.”

“Too quiet is never good,” Hattori muttered. “I’ll talk to my old man again. See if Niigata’s department has anything strange in the last few weeks. Maybe there’s something that didn’t make the news.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t found her.”

They sat in silence again, distance heavy between them.

“Hang in there, Kudo,” Hattori said finally. “We’ll find her.”

“I have to believe that,” Conan said quietly. “I really have to.”

Chapter Text

The morning light filtered in through the blinds of Eri’s office, casting faint stripes on the polished desk where a thick stack of case files sat. She pushed her reading glasses higher on her nose as she finished typing up notes from her last consultation. Since Ran’s disappearance, she had buried herself in work—but not out of avoidance. Every case, every client, every courtroom held the potential for overhearing something, anything that might connect to her daughter’s fate.

Her phone buzzed.

Kogoro.

She took a breath and answered. “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

She leaned back in her chair. “What is it?”

“We found something. A note. Ran’s shopping list. That Shinichi brat found it, gave it to Conan. It turned up in Niigata.”

There was a pause as Eri absorbed the information. Her heart skipped. “Ran’s handwriting?”

“Yeah. I’d know it anywhere.”

Eri closed her eyes briefly. “Are you going there?”

“Already packing.”

“Do you want me to come?”

There was hesitation on the line. Then Kogoro said, gently, “No. Stay in Tokyo. Keep working. You have a better chance of hearing things that way. Besides…” His voice dropped. “You haven’t been sleeping. I can hear it.”

“You’re one to talk,” she said, but her voice had lost its usual edge.

He chuckled faintly. “Maybe. And when Ran comes back and finds out I’ve been running around like a headless chicken, she’ll yell at me.”

Eri’s lips twitched. “She would. And then she’d nag you to drink less.”

“And eat better. And stop falling asleep on the couch.”

Silence passed between them, soft but warm.

“She used to try cooking for us when she was little,” Eri said quietly.

Kogoro chuckled again, bittersweet. “Remember that pancake disaster? We told her it was delicious, but even the cat wouldn’t eat it.”

“She cried when she figured it out.”

“She still insisted on doing it again the next week.”

“Tenacious. Just like her parents.”

Kogoro’s voice turned soft. “We’ll find her, Eri.”

“I know. I just wish…” She swallowed. “I wish it didn’t take our daughter disappearing for us to start talking like this again.”

Kogoro didn’t reply at first. Then softly, “Me too.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Call me as soon as you get there. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“You too.”

They lingered a moment longer before the call ended.

After the call, Eri sat quietly in her living room. The muted hum of the television played in the background, but she didn’t register the words. Her eyes were on a framed photo atop her bookshelf—Ran, about six years old, beaming with both hands full of flowers, a ribbon in her hair.

She reached for the frame and held it gently.

“I should’ve taken you with me,” she whispered.

Back then, she had convinced herself that leaving Ran with Kogoro was the better choice. He was familiar, stable in his own chaotic way. Ran adored him, and Eri thought that maybe—just maybe—it was enough. They saw each other often, and Eri had always kept in close contact. But now, in hindsight, it felt like a shallow justification.

“She must’ve been so lonely sometimes,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the glass. “Even if she never said it.”

The memory of Ran’s quiet smiles, her resilience, and the way she always said, “It’s okay, Mom. I understand,” hit her like a wave.

“I don’t deserve that kind of grace from her.”

Her fingers curled tightly around the frame. “Just come home, Ran. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Conan’s forehead was damp with sweat as he turned restlessly in bed. The shadows of the room stretched long and thin, like grasping fingers, dancing across the walls as the moonlight flickered past clouds.

In his dream, the world was gray.

They stood on a shoreline. Mist clung to the ground like smoke. Hattori was on one side of him, Kogoro on the other. A row of officers stood silently ahead.

Conan was walking slowly, legs numb, as he moved forward toward something covered in a white sheet.

“No,” he whispered, “no, no, no…”

He pulled back the sheet.

Ran’s face.

Her eyes closed. Her skin pale. Her lips blue.

A peaceful expression, but one Conan couldn’t bear to see.

“No,” he whispered again, then louder, “No! RAN!”

He dropped to his knees, hands trembling. “Don’t leave me. Please… Please, Ran. Come back. I didn’t even get to say I—”

The waves behind them crashed louder and louder, drowning everything. Her face seemed to fade into the tide.

He screamed her name.

“RAN!”

Conan shot up in bed, heart pounding like thunder in his chest. His throat was raw from the scream, sweat soaking his shirt. His hands clutched at the sheets, his whole body trembling.

His mind swirled with the image. Her face. Her stillness. The terrible finality.

“No,” he whispered aloud. “No, she’s not… she’s not gone.”

He stood and stumbled over to the desk, trying to catch his breath. He turned on the lamp with a shaky hand and slumped into the chair. A tear escaped down his cheek before he could wipe it away.

Ran was the most precious person in his life.

More than just someone he loved—she was his anchor. His light. His reason for keeping on. She had waited for him for years. Patiently, kindly, without ever pressuring him. And now, it was his turn.

He clenched his fists. “Ran… if I lose you… if you disappear forever…”

He couldn’t finish the thought. Because if he lost her… he would lose himself, too.

Fumbling for his phone, he unlocked it and hit record on a new message. This time, he didn’t use the bowtie or Shinichi’s voice.

“Ran-neechan,” he whispered, voice raw. “It’s me. Conan. I… I had a dream. A horrible dream. You were… I…”

He paused to breathe.

"Ran-neechan, I miss you. We all miss you." He didn't bother to make his voice sound childish, his emotions still raw and almost tangible. "But we won't give up. No matter how long it takes, we will find you. Sh-shinichi-niichan is also not giving up."

He pressed the phone to his forehead, trying to steady himself. 

"Shinichi-niichan will find you, Ran-neechan. He promised."

He ended the recording and sent it.

The he turned back to the desk, opened his notebook, and flipped back to the page labeled "Niigata". His grief was heavy but his resolve cut through like a steel.

He began writing again.

No matter what, he had to bring her back—alive.

Chapter Text

Kogoro Mouri arrived in Niigata early in the morning, his suitcase slung over his shoulder and a hardened determination in his eyes. The weather was cool, the sky overcast. It felt almost symbolic, as if the heavens shared in the weight of his mission. He went straight to the local police station, his name already familiar to the officers there thanks to Inspector Megure’s call the day before.

The chief of the Niigata station greeted him with a courteous nod. “Mouri-san, welcome. Megure-keibu briefed us about your daughter’s case. I’m sorry we don’t have much to go on, but we’ll assist you however we can.”

Kogoro nodded, hiding the lump in his throat behind a gruff voice. “I appreciate that. Even the smallest help could lead to something.”

Though Ran’s case wasn’t a high priority due to the limited evidence and the fact that she hadn’t officially been seen in Niigata, the officers understood the personal urgency behind Kogoro’s visit. They assigned a couple of local detectives to help him comb through security footage, witness statements, and missing persons reports in the area.

Hours passed as they poured over files and questioned convenience store clerks, roadside stall owners, and pedestrians who might’ve seen a girl resembling Ran. Kogoro’s eyes burned with the strain of searching, his heart tightening with every dead end.

Then, in the late afternoon, one of the detectives brought something to him.

“We found this during a sweep behind a rest stop.” The officer extended a small evidence bag. Inside it was a familiar object—a worn but unmistakable phone strap with the figure of that anime character. Kogoro's heart skipped a beat.

He stared at it in disbelief. “That... that’s Ran’s. Kudo Shinichi gave it to her years ago. She never changed it, never even took it off.”

“No sign of the phone itself, though,” the officer added. “Just this, wedged between the stones beside a drainage pipe. We were doubtful if it's something, but we brought just in case.”

Kogoro clutched the bag tightly, his hands trembling slightly. He stepped away and immediately called Conan.

Conan was in Professor Agasa’s lab, hunched over a laptop screen, his eyes dull from scrolling through hours of footage. His phone buzzed. Seeing it was Kogoro, he snapped upright.

“Conan,” Kogoro said, his voice low and urgent. “We found something. A phone strap. It looks like the one Ran had—a character figure. Can you contact that detective brat you know—Shinichi—and ask if he remembers giving it to her?”

Conan froze. It was the Namako Otoko phone strap that Ran requested Shinichi to buy for her along the new phone he owed her. “Y-Yes, I’ll contact him right away.”

“Tell him to call me tonight. I want to confirm it directly, I'll send you the picture,” Kogoro said. Then, his voice softened slightly. “Thanks, Conan... for sticking with us through this.”

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Conan returned to the Kudo mansion and slipped into his father’s study. He locked the door, pulled the red bowtie from his jacket pocket, adjusted the frequency, and dialed Kogoro.

“Ojisan. It’s me—Shinichi.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Tch, about time. Anything more on your end?”

“None so far, but I'll keep on looking,” Conan replied, his voice steady through the changer. “The phone strap... yes, that’s the one I gave her. It was years ago. She told me once she never wanted to change it.”

“Then there’s no doubt it’s hers.” Kogoro exhaled audibly. “Still no other clues, but this... this tells us she was here. That’s something.”

“I’m glad you found something. Please keep me updated.”

“Yeah. I will. And you too—I know how much you care about Ran." A pause. "I know you'll keep on looking until you find her. So, don't stop.”

Conan nearly lost his composure hearing those words, but he kept his voice even. “Of course.”

After the call, Conan slumped into the desk chair, staring at the ceiling as the weight of that small discovery began to sink in. A tiny object. A tiny spark of hope. But to him, it was like a breath of air after being submerged for too long.

“She was there...” he whispered to himself. “She was there.”

He stood, pacing. The urge to rush to Niigata was overpowering, but Kogoro was right—he had to stay put, keep watch in Tokyo. Still, he couldn’t sit still.

That’s when a faint breeze touched the curtains.

Conan turned sharply. Kaitou Kid stood at the open window, arms folded, face half-shadowed by the moonlight.

“Took you long enough to notice,” Kid said coolly. “I hear you’ve found something.”

Conan narrowed his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Let’s just say my ears are always open when it comes to interesting developments.”

Conan hesitated, then gave a single nod. “It was her phone strap. That’s all. But it’s something.”

“Enough to build a path,” Kid replied. He stepped closer and tossed a flash drive onto the desk. “Here. Underground surveillance footage. Not easily accessible, but I have my ways. Mostly areas within and around Niigata. Might lead somewhere.”

Conan looked at the drive like it was gold. “You... you really went that far?”

“I made a promise, didn’t I? Besides, this mystery is too important to leave unsolved.”

Conan’s hands trembled as he picked up the drive. “Thank you... seriously.”

Kid gave a small bow. “Just don’t tell anyone I’m being helpful. Ruins the mystique.”

And with a swirl of his cape, he vanished.

Conan turned back to the desk, his heart pounding. The ache of missing Ran was still there, but now, it was accompanied by something else.

Hope.

He plugged the flash drive in and began to work.

“I’m always the one who made you wait, Ran,” he whispered. “But now... now I’m the one waiting. I won’t stop until I bring you home.”

Chapter Text

Kogoro Mouri sat on a bench just outside the Niigata police station, a cigarette burning between his fingers though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. The sky was turning orange, evening settling into a tired sigh. Another day had passed with no new leads. The small breakthrough from the phone strap had reignited something in him—a spark—but now that spark was struggling to keep aflame.

They’d scoured rest stops, neighborhoods, surveillance footage, even wooded areas. Local officers helped when they could, but the trail grew colder by the hour.

Kogoro leaned back, head tilted toward the sky. “Ran...” he whispered, the name aching in his throat. “Where are you, kiddo?”

The thought of her somewhere out there, scared or hurt—or worse—gnawed at his chest until he could barely breathe.

Furthermore, he thought about Ran's childhood friend.

That detective brat. Kudo Shinichi.

He was always making Ran wait. She’d wait through phone calls, through excuses, always smiling, always patient. And now... now she was the one they waited on.

Kogoro wanted to be angry. Part of him was. But deep down, he knew the truth: Shinichi would die trying to find Ran. That boy had her heart—and she had his. And despite everything, Kogoro trusted him.

He let out a sigh and pulled out his phone. No new messages.

His thumb hovered over Ran’s contact.

He couldn’t bring himself to call.

His mind drifted to a memory—years ago, back when it was just the two of them at home.

He’d come home late from a low-paying case. The lights were on, and a sweet aroma drifted through the apartment. Ran stood in the kitchen, wearing her pink apron, her hair tied up messily.

“You cooked?” Kogoro asked, surprised.

“I made miso soup and tonkatsu!” she beamed. “I watched Mom do it last time, and I wanted to try.”

Kogoro blinked. “You’re eleven.”

“So?” She placed the bowl in front of him. “You work hard. You need a reward.”

They ate together, her chatting the whole time about school and friends. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you—I used the counter you taught me in karate class!”

Kogoro raised an eyebrow. “The sweeping throw?”

“Yep! This guy tried to grab me during the match, and I flipped him!” She mimicked the move in the air with excitement. “I got full points!”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s my girl.”

It was warm. It was simple. And now, it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ran...” Kogoro muttered again, pressing his hands together as if in prayer. “Hold on, kiddo. Just hold on.”

Meanwhile in Tokyo, Conan sat hunched over Agasa’s computer in the dim glow of the lab’s monitors. The endless cascade of video clips, grainy and dim, flickered across the screen like ghosts.

Night after night, he reviewed the footage Kaitou Kid had brought—clips from obscure highways, nearly forgotten transit stations, security cameras from road tunnels and train stops. The volume of data was staggering.

Sometimes Haibara sat nearby, her eyes narrowed at the screen. She didn’t say much, but her presence was steady. When Conan's fingers started to tremble from hours of scrolling, she would gently nudge a cup of tea into his hands.

“You need to rest,” she would say.

“I will,” Conan would reply, never looking up.

Other times it was Professor Agasa who stood behind him with a blanket or a plate of rice balls.

“Just close your eyes for ten minutes, Shinichi. You're no use to her if you collapse.”

But Conan couldn’t. The thought of sleeping while Ran was out there, possibly alone or in danger—it was unbearable.

His body was sore, his eyes raw, but he pressed on. He logged timestamps, enhanced frames, connected map locations with calculated precision. Each dead end piled onto the growing weight on his shoulders.

His mind was sharp—relentlessly efficient—but his heart was in agony. The moments in between reviewing data were filled with flashes of her smile, the way she used to laugh when he teased her, the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. Every time he thought of her, it was like a knife slowly turning in his chest.

Then—on a cold, quiet night, with the wind rustling the trees outside his father's study—Conan paused.

He had been reviewing a long-distance camera mounted near a hillside road in Sado, the prefecture just beside Niigata.

There was a figure, small, walking along the edge of a road near a bus station. The camera shook slightly, and the figure was partially obstructed by a pole. Conan rewound. Zoomed in.

Long hair. Light jacket. Hesitant steps. Slight hunch of the shoulders.

His heart skipped.

He rewound again. Frame by frame.

The figure turned slightly—and even through the blur, Conan felt it in his bones.

It was her.

His hand shot to the keyboard, enhancing, reprocessing, sharpening contrast. The resolution was terrible. But the way she walked, the silhouette, the hesitant glance over her shoulder—it was Ran.

He couldn’t breathe.

A gasp tore from his throat, and then tears spilled down his cheeks before he even realized they’d come.

“Ran...” he whispered. “It’s you... it’s really you.”

His entire body trembled, his voice barely a breath. The weight of weeks spent in agony suddenly rushed upward, too much to hold in.

A low sob broke out from him, muffled behind a clenched fist.

She was alive.

He didn’t know where she was going. He didn’t know why she hadn’t reached out. But it was her.

He stared at the footage, memorizing every detail, every shadow around her.

“I found you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “We’re coming.”

Then he wiped his tears, pulled out a notebook, and began cross-referencing surrounding surveillance grids. There was no time to waste.

He would find her.

Whatever it took.