Chapter 325: An Anticlimactic Conclusion
Kogoro and Megure exchanged hushed, urgent whispers in the corner of the room. When their clandestine conversation finally ended, the inspector trudged back to his original position. The deep lines on his face seemed heavier than usual, his expression twisted in a complicated knot of pity and professional restraint. He cast a long, heavy look at Bamba before letting out a weary sigh.
Under the burning, inquisitive stares of Conan, Amuro, and the surrounding murmuring crowd, Megure cleared his throat. "Mouri has just provided sufficient evidence to definitively prove that Mr. Bamba did not harm Miss Hatsune," he announced, his voice echoing in the tense silence. "However, the specific nature of this evidence deeply involves the personal privacy of the parties involved. Therefore, I will not be discussing the details here."
Shifting his gaze, the inspector looked over at the curly-haired detective leaning against the wall. "Matsuda, pack it up. We're heading back to the station."
Without waiting for a response, Megure turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. As he brushed past Bamba—who was still standing frozen, his eyes vacant and utterly bewildered by the sudden shift in the investigation—the inspector paused. His mouth opened slightly, as if wrestling with the urge to offer a word of comfort, but he ultimately swallowed the sentiment, shaking his head and leaving the room in silence.
Hearing his superior's command, Matsuda pushed himself off the wall. His sharp eyes, hidden behind his signature dark sunglasses, swept over the remaining crowd. His gaze lingered for a fraction of a second on a certain bespectacled little detective. A quiet, amused "tsk" escaped his lips before he shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered out after Megure.
Within minutes, the flashing red and blue lights faded down the street, leaving the scene entirely devoid of police presence.
"Mouri... Hatsune, she..." Bamba stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to process the abrupt anticlimax. He stared blankly at the seasoned detective, desperate for answers. "What is going on?"
Before the distraught man could formulate another question, Kogoro stepped forward. His usual goofy demeanor was entirely absent, replaced by a grim, solemn gravity. He gripped Bamba's arm firmly and pulled him aside into a quiet alcove, leaning in close to speak in a hushed, private tone.
Whatever Kogoro whispered, the impact was instantaneous and devastating. Bamba's reaction was violently intense, far surpassing the inspector's quiet melancholy. The onlookers watched in stunned silence as Bamba suddenly lunged forward, his hands clamping onto Kogoro's shoulders like a vice. He shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with a horrifying realization, desperately seeking some sign that it was all a cruel joke.
Kogoro merely offered a slow, sorrowful nod.
The confirmation shattered whatever strength Bamba had left. He released the detective, his hands flying up to clutch his hair tightly. A gut-wrenching sob tore from his throat as his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor. Tears streamed down his face, pooling on the floorboards as he wailed, "How could this be?! Hatsune!!!"
Kogoro crouched beside the broken man, his large hand resting gently on Bamba's trembling shoulder. "Fortunately, Hatsune is physically fine for now," he advised, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You have to pull yourself together, Bamba. She is suffering just as much as you are right now, if not more. Regardless of the truth, she is still recovering in the hospital. You need to go there and have a proper, honest talk with her."
And just like that, the curtain fell on the bizarre incident. Though the conclusion felt jarringly anticlimactic to the bystanders, the case was officially closed. Neither the police nor the parties involved had any desire to pursue it further.
However, a certain little detective was practically vibrating with unsatisfied intrigue. Conan's mind raced, tortured by the missing pieces of the puzzle. He desperately needed to know what Uncle Kogoro had whispered to Megure and Bamba. What was the hidden truth? For the rest of the evening, Conan deployed every trick in his arsenal—acting cute, dropping leading questions, and innocently prying—to fish for information.
To his immense frustration, Kogoro's lips remained sealed tighter than a steel vault. No matter how cleverly Conan prodded or hinted, the older detective refused to drop a single crumb of a clue.
Realizing Kogoro was a dead end, Conan considered interrogating Natsume, but quickly abandoned the idea. If he couldn't manipulate a sleepy Kogoro, prying secrets from the sharp-witted Natsume was a fool's errand.
Days bled into a week. Conan only managed to glean a brief update from Kogoro: Hatsune had fully recovered from her injuries and was discharged from the hospital. However, her impending wedding to Bamba had been abruptly and permanently canceled. Despite this glaring red flag, Conan was still completely in the dark about the underlying truth.
The cancellation only cemented his theory: Hatsune's drastic actions that night were deeply, inextricably linked to Bamba himself.
Later that week, the Mouri family decided to host a celebratory lunch for Natsume at Café Poirot, the cozy diner situated right beneath the detective agency. The meal served a dual purpose: thanking her for her very useful assistance during the chaotic case, and celebrating her own clean bill of health. Though the celebration was a few days overdue—Kogoro had been too preoccupied worrying over his friend's fragile mental state—the dust had finally settled enough for them to relax.
The bell above the café door chimed, followed by a familiar, magnetic voice. "Mr. Mouri!"
Natsume paused midway through sipping her coffee and glanced up. As expected, it was Amuro. The blond man approached their booth, greeting the detective with a blindingly bright, easygoing smile.
Watching him, Natsume couldn't help but marvel inwardly. 'His acting is downright terrifying,'she mused, taking another sip to hide her expression.'He radiates this cheerful, sunny golden-retriever energy. You would never find a single trace of the ruthless Black Organization executive lurking beneath that polite smile.'
Kogoro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he appraised the young waiter with a nonchalant, slightly smug expression. "So, let me get this straight. You want me, the Great Detective Kogoro Mouri, to take you under my wing as an apprentice?"
"Yes, absolutely!" Amuro leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with perfectly manufactured admiration. He spoke with the eager excitement of a true fanboy. "I gained so much insight just from watching how you handled that last case, Mr. Mouri. You were mature, steady, and incredibly organized. The way you took everyone's delicate feelings into account before revealing the truth... it was masterful."
He placed a hand over his heart, looking thoroughly humbled. "Compared to your seasoned expertise, I am truly too immature. There are still so many areas where my own deductive skills fall woefully short."
Amuro bowed his head slightly. "Therefore, I've decided I need to start learning from scratch, from the very best. I sincerely hope to work by your side, Mr. Mouri. Please allow me to accompany you as an intern when you investigate future cases."
Hearing this lavish praise, Conan's head snapped up, his glasses flashing under the café lights. The underlying implication in the blond man's words was glaringly obvious.
Ran beat him to the punch, blinking in surprise. "Mr. Amuro, do you actually know the truth behind that case?" she asked curiously, glancing at her father. "Dad has stubbornly refused to say a single word about it."
"Yes, I do." Amuro nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile. "I admit, I was incredibly curious about the missing pieces, so I took the liberty of doing some further investigation on my own time."
"So, what exactly happened?" Conan pressed immediately, practically crawling over the table in his desperation for answers.
Instead of answering the boy, Amuro politely shifted his gaze toward Kogoro, silently asking for permission.
Catching the questioning look, Kogoro let out a long, irritable groan and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Fine, fine. Go ahead and tell them," he grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. "If you don't, this brat's relentless curiosity is going to drive me up the wall. But I am warning all of you right now—once you hear the truth, it stays at this table. You are absolutely not allowed to spread it around."
Conan nodded so fast his glasses nearly flew off, turning his expectant, burning gaze back to the blond waiter.
With the master detective's blessing, Amuro leaned in and quietly revealed the tragic truth he had uncovered.
Natsume listened in silence, mildly impressed. It had to be said, the freelance detective persona Bourbon had adopted was exceptionally capable. Without access to the police files, he had still managed to successfully dig up the heartbreaking, hidden biological relationship between Hatsune and Bamba.
The table fell into a heavy, somber silence as the weight of the revelation settled over them.
However, as the conversation lulled, Amuro slowly turned his head. His previously warm eyes cooled into a deep, calculating gaze that locked directly onto Natsume.
"It really is quite a miraculous coincidence," Amuro noted, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle, probing edge. "If it weren't for your timely intervention, Miss Natsume, Miss Hatsune would have certainly met a tragic end in those flames. But, if I may ask..." He tilted his head, a polite but dangerous smile playing on his lips. "What exact business did you have with her at that precise moment?"
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