Because we have come a long way since the day little Conan entered our lives.


Progress...


Progress.

That's what he had. Progress.

More than what he had months ago. As a detective he knew that not all answers would be available to him immediately. Biding his time and keeping vigilant would provide opportunity for him to seek out the clues he needed. It was a long process, longer than he cared for, but he could not afford to slip up because of impatience. There was too much at stake to allow that.

But he had progress.

He had information. He had allies. Slowly he was building up his network, achieving a not quite so steady flow of information that he stowed in the vast library of his mind. Sorting through his knowledge with a keen eye for detail he was able to keep tabs on several key players and formulate strategies that he could possibly employ should the need arise. Information, though not as easily given to a child, was the core of his investigations. Now he had found reliable veins of information and it was made all the more encouraging whenever he recalled the months of silence he had suffered through in the early months of his forced hiding.

There was danger all around him. He was no fool. He knew he appeared to have grown complacent in a number of ways, had lowered his guard around certain individuals. The fact that there were now several important figures that were aware of, or rather guessed his identity should have been cause for panic. Before he had made so many connections with people in a higher position than a freelance detective then it would have been but that time was past. There were some things that could not be achieved by remaining in the shadows. Sometimes he had to risk standing out.

He had to make progress somehow.

It was true that he had been careless once or twice and one slip up is all it would take for things to go completely south. But he was human and not even the Great Holmes of the Heisei Era was immune to making mistakes.

Was he afraid? Yes. More often than he would ever let on. He was aware that it was through a miraculous mix of preparation, gut-instinct, luck, and intelligence that he was still alive. He wasn't so arrogant as to believe that his life was spared because he was good at solving cases. No. He was human and prone to human weaknesses. Being unable to admit that he wasn't in complete control was a delusion he would never allow himself to indulge in. He owed much of his survival to the people who risked so much to be able to help him. There was a debt there that he would never be able to repay, credit that was deserved by those more deserving than him.

He had progress.

And...he had her.

He was bolstered by the progress he was making, growing confident, entertaining the idea of victory. He would take down the organization responsible for so much death and wrong doing. He would find a way to return to his real age. And he was doing it all for her.

Oh, he was doing it for himself of course. He wanted to get back to being who he really was for certain. But when stuck in a world where the public seemed to have all but forgotten the high-school detective they had raved and worshiped once upon a time, it was hard not to cling to the one person that was determined to keep him alive. She was there, waiting for him, loyal to a fault regardless of her own feelings and always, always making the time for him. He had already confessed his feelings, making his love for her known and receiving her own confession in return. He couldn't keep her forever clinging to a memory of him.

He had to keep making progress.

She was waiting for him.

He was getting close. Little by little, inch by inch. He was getting closer and closer to the truth. He was getting closer to finding out exactly who and what the Black Organization really was. Closer to stopping them. Closer to becoming who he was always meant to be.

With that though came the reality of his situation. He was close. Getting so close and that meant that danger was not far behind. There were no guarantees of survival, no promises of a plan going just right. But if he didn't try, didn't take the risk, then...

Then Kudo Shinichi was already dead.

He couldn't allow that. He had to trust in his skills, his instincts, and in himself. He had to believe that he could win, that he would find a way to come out on top. There was more than just himself. The longer the organization went on was the longer they could kill and hurt people without consequence. He wouldn't allow that. Not so long as he lived.

Things were coming together, clues connecting to other clues. Words that had begun to make sense. Situations that had once been written off as accidental now relevant. His was the mind that would put them all together to form the big picture of truth that he had been seeking for so long. It wasn't something he could count on someone else doing. He had started this all those months ago when he had failed to accurately analyze the situation, paying dearly for his lack of insight.

He had suffered ever since that day. She had suffered.

Edogawa Conan had suffered.

But he was making progress.

Bit by bit he was making progress, catching up.

And eventually...

Eventually he would catch them.


Owari


Can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that Detective Conan has been around for over twenty-three years and is still going strong? This anime/manga is an incredible work of art and it deserves everything it has won and more.

Haha. I will always come back to Detective Conan fanfiction.