A/N: give me your power stone
Chapter 10: Don't Want to Use My Brain Today, I'll Just Copy a Book
Two months had passed since Conan had shrunk, yet he still knew almost nothing about the Black Organization. He only knew that his house—the Kudo residence next to Dr. Agasa's—had recently been infiltrated. Whether the intruders had discovered anything remained uncertain.
Today, however, his attention was caught by the property at 23, which had stood empty for months but was now suddenly occupied. When Ayumi and the others spotted Renka sunbathing in the courtyard, Conan's suspicions were piqued. Yet when he saw Renka herself, his tension eased. If it really had been the Organization, they wouldn't have used a little girl.
Still, he grew curious about the Miyauchi family. Renka was clearly from the countryside, and her parents looked every bit the farmers they were. Farmers could live comfortably, yes, but buying such a property in Mihana Town? Impossible for ordinary people. And according to Renka, her older brother had earned the money himself.
That brother, Renji Miyauchi, looked no older than sixteen. Handsome, calm, almost too composed. But how could someone so young possibly have earned enough for this mansion? Illegal dealings? A sudden inheritance? Conan's instincts told him he needed to investigate.
His questions only grew sharper when Dr. Agasa, after welcoming Renji, noticed the Asahigaoka brand label on the gifts they had brought. "Oh? Isn't this the famous Asahigaoka village?" the scientist exclaimed.
The name triggered a flood of memories for Conan. Over the past three years, bizarre rural videos from Asahigaoka had spread online like wildfire:
A swaggering village bully plucking fur from a dog as he strutted through town.
A survival expert casually eating wriggling insects with the line, "Crunchy. Tastes like chicken."
A rural inventor cobbling together strange machines: a prison-style treadmill, an inverted hair washer—contraptions that seemed absurd yet inspired imitation everywhere.
And now, standing before him, was one of the masterminds behind those viral clips.
Renji smiled lightly, explaining his background without hesitation. "Yes. Those videos came from Asahigaoka. I produced a lot of them myself."
For him, it was easier to be open. He had no plans of chasing Ran, who belonged wholly to Shinichi. And while Sonoko was certainly attractive and wealthy, he had no interest in being anyone's kept man. With the diary in his hands, money was no concern. Better to be straightforward and earn trust.
Dr. Agasa, wide-eyed, leaned forward. "So those… inventions were yours, Miyauchi-kun? Remarkable! Strange, perhaps, but remarkably creative. Some even spark ideas for my own research!" His enthusiasm spilled over, and he quickly invited Renji to sit and talk.
Conan, listening silently, understood. Online video revenue—especially with such viral fame—could absolutely explain how Renji had bought the house. Suspicion of criminal activity faded, but unease grew in its place. If Renji expanded his antics here in Tokyo, what chaos might follow? And if Dr. Agasa got roped into the schemes, the results could be unpredictable. Worse still, Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta already seemed enthralled. Conan could only sigh inwardly, worrying about Japan's future.
Renji, meanwhile, was thinking along entirely different lines. On the very first day he had obtained the diary, he had already written Conan's name. On the second, he had highlighted APTX4869, the poison that had shrunk him. The diary itself had tethered Conan's fate into his story. That meant someone in Conan's circle might eventually receive a diary too—Ran, Sonoko, Shiho Miyano, even Vermouth. Which of them would it be?
One thing was certain: flaunting knowledge of Conan's secret would be reckless. Renji knew better than to pull stunts like, "Come on, Conan, give the viewers a show."
Instead, he pondered what the diary wanted from him. A mansion here, right next to Conan and Dr. Agasa. Was this by coincidence or design? Rewards like this couldn't be sold easily—too conspicuous, too illogical. Today it was a mansion. Tomorrow, what if the diary casually handed him Mount Fuji? How could anyone explain that?
The more he thought about it, the clearer it became: the diary was a gift from a higher power. A god's hand moved these pieces, and Renji's role was to play along carefully. Overthinking would only bring trouble. Accept the rewards, fulfill the role, and don't rebel. Yet he couldn't help but joke to himself—if things ever got too absurd, maybe he'd write in the diary: "Next time, find a brainless transmigrator instead."
Shaking his head, he decided it was best not to tempt fate. Perhaps tonight's diary should begin with "I am guilty," followed by copied scripture as penance. But no—that might come off as even more provocative.
...
Renji stayed at Dr. Agasa's for about an hour. They talked inventions, exchanged ideas, and left the scientist glowing with inspiration. Renji's easy charm, paired with his sharp wit, left Agasa genuinely fond of the young man. At least, Conan thought grimly, Agasa wouldn't be lonely without Shinichi around.
When the hour grew late, Renji called Renka over to say goodbye to the Detective Boys. Watching the children part reluctantly, Renji remained outwardly polite but thought privately: That's enough. You won't be seeing my sister again. If fate brings you together once more, I'll admit defeat—but don't dream of dragging Renka into your reckless adventures.
Renka, innocent and content, was already planning to draw a picture for Ayumi as a keepsake. With her parents, she then joined Renji on a shopping trip to Ginza. They returned late, arms full of bags, exhausted but happy.
Back in his room, Renji opened his diary. Today had been too full—traveling, entertaining, shopping. His mind felt sluggish. He rubbed his chin, then pulled out a light novel from his suitcase: the first volume of Saekano: How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend. Smiling, he copied its opening lines straight into the diary:
[Today was tiring. No interesting news, no good memes. Twitter's dead. Am I the only one left writing? Forget it. I'm not using my brain tonight. Conveniently, the diary gave me a novel, so I'll just copy that. If your name shows up, pretend it's coincidence. Surely you won't mind…]
...
Kasumigaoka Utaha flipped open her diary that night, prepared for more gossip. But as her eyes scanned the page, her expression froze. The format was wrong—it looked like the start of a light novel. And then, unmistakably, she saw it: her own name, Kasumigaoka Utaha.
Her gaze drifted upward, her lips parting slightly. Something was very, very wrong.