April 18th, 2003: Minato city

This is Azabu-Juban Station. I repeat, this is Azabu-Juban Station.

Shinichi jerked on his seat and yawned. He'd almost fallen asleep. He groggily stood up and walked out of the train. He took another look at his casefile; this should be a simple one.

After his breakdown a few months ago, he'd followed Heiji's advice and completely halted his investigative work. In the past two years, Megure had seemed to have noticed his tiredness, to have linked it to his studies, and had gradually decreased his calls to the young sleuth. Shinichi never protested. However, he was met with surprised gasps and wide open eyes the first time he turned down a case. Shinichi had gone to Minato city's station in person to thank Megure and ask him to stop calling for a few weeks, but he'd been asked to help on a murder case as soon as he'd been sighted in the building. The shocked reactions from the surrounding officers, many of whom he greatly appreciated, had him glance down nervously and almost changed his mind, but Megure had quickly recovered and shut Shinichi down before he could retract his decision.

"Of course, Kudō-kun, I understand. Take care of yourself." Megure was too good to him.

For a few days, he'd resumed his usual college routine. It had felt great to know his day would not be interrupted by another gruesome case. He hadn't even had his usual strike of bad luck. It had been like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. After over two weeks passed without any call from the police, he'd started feeling anxious. Was it really ok? Hadn't he spent enough time resting? Shouldn't he have called Megure back and told him he was ready to take cases again? However, something had stopped him. It hadn't been fatigue. For the first time in his life he had not wanted to solve cases. But why?

Despite the air of tragedy constantly surrounding investigative work, he'd always found comfort in the intellectual challenge, the neatness of his deductions, the satisfaction of a job well done. Casework had been fun, in a way, but now there was only dread. Little mysteries… little puzzles… he couldn't see crime scenes like this anymore. In reality, there never had been anything fun or interesting about them, and there never would be. As such, casework had completely lost its appeal. After this realization, Shinichi had spent an entire week shut alone in his room, feeling lost and sick with guilt.

I didn't solve all these cases just for the challenge, right? I did it for the victims, didn't I? I couldn't have had such an egocentric and callous motive as… entertainment. If I was so frivolous, why would I have kept it going for so long? Is it because it's my only talent? That can't be it. But if it's true, if I am not this selfish, if justice is really my calling: why can't I bring myself to ask for new cases? Why is there such a pit in my stomach?

He'd been so absorbed in his troubles he hadn't even noticed his phone ringing. Or maybe he'd just ignored it, he couldn't remember.

Eventually, Heiji had intervened. He'd banged on Shinichi's door and had been threatening to break it down when the latter had opened it. He'd looked horrible: wrapped in a sheet, hunched on himself, emaciated, dehydrated, dark rings and tear tracks under his eyes. He clearly hadn't eaten the entire week. Probably had barely slept. Heiji had sat him down, forced a bottle of water on his lips, a sandwich in his hands, and had watched him like a hawk as he'd nibbled on it. Meanwhile, he'd dialed a therapist and taken an appointment for Shinichi.

The latter had let Heiji clean his room up and order him around. Despite his shame, Shinichi had been too tired to resist. His memory of the time was fuzzy. Before he'd known it he'd been sitting in an armchair in front of a soft-looking elderly woman. She'd smiled at him, bowed, and shaken his hand with a weak grip. She had probably introduced herself at some point, but Shinichi had been so far gone he hadn't taken notice of her name. Overlooking such an important element about his interlocutor was highly unusual of him, and the final proof that something had been terribly wrong with him. Heiji had been waiting on the other side of the door. Shinichi had known what had been expected of him.

Shinichi was nothing if not efficient. And so, he'd clinically dissected his current situation. Without revealing their content, he'd explained that different doubts had made their way to the forefront of his mind, that they hindered his work, and worried his friend. It was problematic, he'd explained, because his job had important consequences on the lives of other people, and they couldn't afford his inadequacy. If the counselor had taken interest in his business-like attitude, she hadn't commented on it. She'd written in her little pad and kept silent until he'd finished his piece.

"What do you expect from therapy?" she'd asked.

"I'm not even here by choice. So I'd like to get this done fast so I can go back to normal," he'd answered.

"What do you mean by normal?"

"Functioning."

"Could you elaborate for me?"

Shinichi had twitched in irritation. It should have been obvious. He'd crossed his arms and said nothing. Sensing the conversation wouldn't have progressed like this, the counselor continued.

"You say that you have some doubts about your work. That they prevent you from progressing," she'd paused slightly. "You are an overachiever, Kudō-san," she'd noted. "What made you doubt yourself? Was it your co-workers?"

"No. They've given no complaints about my work."

"Then what is the source of the problem?"

"It's not about me. It's about justice. I need to be better."

She'd waited a moment for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she'd observed, "Justice seems to be your core value. Did you always have such high expectations for yourself?"

"I know I can do better," Shinichi had defended. "I didn't used to feel like this. I think I grew complacent in the past year."

"I see. Would you call yourself a perfectionist?"

"I guess. Where are you going with this?" He'd disliked the implications of her line of questioning.

"I am not judging you, Kudō-san," she'd reassured. "I am merely trying to assess where you stand with yourself, and help us reach a common understanding of your situation."

"..." He hadn't been convinced.

"In which way would you say you grew complacent?"

Shinichi had decided to bite the bullet and comply with her interrogation. "I stopped actively looking for cases to solve. I became apathetic to the people I interrogated. I'm slacking off."

"Don't you think that you were stressed, and that this is why you reduced your workload?" she'd pressed.

"I didn't have good reasons to be stressed. I wasn't doing my best," he'd answered.

"I see," She'd written something down, "But you were stressed, is that right?"

Shinichi had stiffened.

The counselor had watched him struggle with his feelings for a few moments before she'd declared in a neutral tone, "You are very unforgiving towards yourself. It looks to me like you are always trying your best, relentlessly."

Shinichi grimaced at these words. He couldn't agree. He'd taken fewer and fewer cases this year, using college as a form of self-justification. He'd been able to solve multiple cases a day back in high school, and he'd followed the news with the kind of enthusiasm that had completely disappeared nowadays. His current schedule wasn't so bad that he couldn't keep a similar pace. Actually, now that he was getting paid for them, and didn't rely on his parents' money anymore, he should be taking more cases than before, not less. He'd objectively been slacking off.

"You don't agree," she'd stated.

Shinichi had stayed silent. She'd gauged him for a moment and tried another angle.

"What do you do in your free time?"

"I study criminology so I read the additional books recommended by my teachers, and their source material," he'd explained before adding, "These days I also try to stay updated on forensic sciences: ballistics, patterns recognition, DNA sequencing. I also read some coursebooks on chemistry, biology, medicine, and a bit of electrical engineering." Shinichi had frowned as he'd watched her write extensively on her pad at his answer.

"And what do you do other than this? Do you see friends? Family?"

"No, I avoid them." Shinichi had made a face as he'd let the words escape, she'd probably find something to say about this.

"Why?" she'd enquired with apparent interest.

He'd tried to cut it short. "I don't have the time."

"But you just said you were slacking off?" she'd pointed out, looking at him from over her glasses.

"I am slacking off on detective work."

"And you are studying science during this time?"

"That's right."

She'd written something down and paused for a moment, appearing deep in thoughts.

"Why the interest in science?"

"To be a better detective."

She'd blinked at this. Shinichi had felt like he'd just said something stupid. It had made sense, right? Why else would he do it?

"Do you have an interest that is not related to detective work?"

"I played soccer. I was good at it."

"You were?" she'd asked.

"I stopped. I have a weak heart," He'd hesitated a moment before adding, "I think it also affects my sleep. I sleep a lot more than I used to. More than normal people. I've skipped some classes."

"I see." She joined her hands together. "You didn't try to find another interest?"

"I didn't see the point," he'd said. "I would have stopped soccer for my work and studies anyway."

"So there is nothing to help you unwind?"

"I don't need the distraction. I'm tired enough as it is," he'd explained.

"Did you tell your doctor about this? The fatigue?" she'd asked, watching him with a piercing gaze.

"Yes."

"And what did they say?"

"She ran me through a battery of tests. She didn't detect anything specific."

She had now raised her joined hands and put her fingers in front of her chin. "Would you like my opinion?"

Here we go, he thought. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"It depends on the patient," she'd explained.

"Hmpf. Go ahead," he'd answered, disdainful.

"You are burnt out."

He'd seen it coming.

"I believe you already knew that, but you didn't want to acknowledge it."

"I did. I am perfectly aware of myself," he'd snarled.

"Why didn't you reduce your workload?"

"I did. I told you so," he'd said, petulant.

"This isn't what you told me," she'd refuted. "You perceived an area of weakness and gave yourself additional fields of study. That is on top of the supplementary material you were already studying for your major."

"That's not real wo-" he'd seen her react to this and cut himself off. " Okay. You may have a point," he'd admitted, "but I'm not over capacity. My grades are good. It's all under control."

"You use very interesting language," she'd remarked. "You are chronically tired, but not overworked. You had it under control, and yet you ended up here after a life-threatening depressive episode."

"...It wasn't that bad." Yes, it was. I didn't move from my bed for an entire week, it had been dawning on him. "I'm not suicidal," he'd defended.

She'd probably seen the dismay on his face. "I don't think you are suicidal," she'd reassured him. "Do you know what triggered the episode?"

"I… took a break… and…"

He'd paused. She'd waited for him to finish his thoughts.

"I realized I didn't want to go back to work," he'd whispered. "I can't do that," he'd added in a strangled voice.

"Why not?"

"Because I want to be a detective."

"Is that a want or an obligation?"

"At this point there is no difference. People only see me through this lens. I only see myself through this lens. I love this job."

"Did you always want to be a detective?"

"Yes. As long as I can remember."

"You are still very young. Did you ever question your choice? Explore other things?"

"I- No." There was a pause. "I love this job," he'd despaired. He hadn't sounded very convincing to himself.

After another pause he'd asked, "Should I?" His voice was strangled,"Try other things?"

"There is no right answer to this question, Kudō-san. I am not here to tell you what you should do."

"I never thought about it." He'd taken on a pensive expression. "I should study this."

The counselor interrupted, "I am going to overstep my functions and give you a piece of advice, Kudō-san. Drop your additional studies for now." She let it sink in a little. "At the moment, you are in a vulnerable state of mind. You can look for other paths, but don't obsess over the idea of changing fields and make a rash decision that will land you back in my office a few years from now."

It made sense, but, "Why did you bring it up, then?"

"Your career choice isn't a problem, Kudō-san. Your single-mindedness is."

"Isn't drive a good thing?"

"To a point, yes, but in your case it has become crippling, both emotionally and physically. If you keep thinking about work, you are going to break, Kudō-san."

Try new hobbies, reconnect with your close ones, meet new people, and maybe you'll find love in your work again. Those had been her parting words.

At first he hadn't understood how forgetting about work was going to help him with his work-related issues. However, for Heiji's sake, he'd called the session helpful and started following the advice. It couldn't have done much harm if he hadn't been working anyway. He'd forced himself to close his coursebooks, tried hobbies he had never given a chance before, some of which were said to be relaxing: yoga, painting, crafting. In the different clubs he'd tried, he'd met and talked to people completely unrelated to his work or field of studies. People so removed from his way of thinking he couldn't help but be fascinated with them.

His interactions no longer being hindered by the weight of an ongoing investigation, he'd started to learn to listen without the purpose of uncovering and judging. He'd found it made him less abrasive to others; who would have thought? He still had great troubles with it, but he had… opened his mind a bit, so to speak. He'd started recording little bits of trivia in a journal, and had finally built the courage to look up other existing careers for people with his background. And he'd found a lot.

It was true, he wasn't cornered into staying a detective for the rest of his life, there were many just as fascinating and engaging professions he could work his way into with his skillset, but none that completely stuck with him. Somehow, he'd found that sea of choices comforting. Far from turning him away from his field, it had renewed his sense of purpose. He'd chosen investigation for a reason. It wasn't just a superficial interest born from the naive conceptions of his childhood, and an unhealthy obsession for mystery fiction.

With a new grasp on his resolve, his fears had finally eased, and he'd resumed investigative work. He still had some doubts at the back of his mind but nothing he couldn't handle. The crisis had passed.

The witness of his current case -a simple neighborhood burglary affair- agreed to speak with him at midnight, during her night shift. Depending on how long it took, he might have to sleep at his parent's mansion. He hoped he could avoid it.

The mansion was rather close to the campus. In practice, renting his own room was a waste of money. However, Shinichi couldn't live in such a big place alone anymore. Not after spending years in the cramped but homy apartment of the Mouris. Shinichi didn't speak much to his parents. He made it a point to live out of his own money and never ask for their help. He barely saw them even before he became Conan, but afterward it was almost like they forgot his existence. The rare times he saw him, his father took a nasty pleasure in one-upping him at every occasion in order to "take the boy down a few pegs and teach him important lessons in humility". He partly blamed their eccentric education -his mother's alternation between coddling and forgetfulness of his existence and his father's sporadic intellectual tests- for his deep fear of imperfection. Sometimes he felt more like a side-project than their child. His perception of his parents' faults in his upbringing was maybe a little unfair, or even mistaken, but resentment had cemented in his heart. In any case, things were too awkward between them these days.

As he passed a playground, his mind wandered to the Shonen Tantei. He saw them hanging out at professor Agasa's house sometimes. He occasionally played with them but it felt strange now that he was an adult and they didn't recognize him. He couldn't have the same dynamic he used to have with them, when they considered him an equal, and it almost made them look like completely different people.

They rarely spoke about mysteries or school rumors with Shinichi. He wasn't part of their little world. They were more controllable and seemed like regular, a little rough, but otherwise well-behaved children. Not the little group of troublemakers he got used to as Conan. Maybe it was just his own perception that changed, now that he towered over them and wasn't forcefully dragged into their bickerings anymore. As an adult, he had the authority and responsibility to stop them from getting themselves into dangerous situations, something that he could never enforce as Conan. The result was that to them, Shinichi was Conan's lame cousin who never let them do anything interesting.

It has been a while since I visited Agasa-hakase. Maybe I can sleep at his house, he thought.

He strolled through Sendai Zaka. After passing a parking lot, just in front of the cemetery, he turned right at the intersection, and finally arrived at his destination. It was a small konbini belonging to a family-owned company. He pushed the door open and immediately grabbed a canned coffee from the front stall. He took a quick look around; the store seemed empty at the moment. As the bell stopped its jingle, a petite middle-aged woman came out of the back-store and greeted him.

"Irasshaimase! What can I help you with?" she politely asked.

Shinichi opened his wallet and pulled the exact money for his coffee out. He put it on the counter and said, "Actually, I'm here for your statement. Tanaka-san, right? I'm the investigator who called you yesterday."

"Ah yes, of course! Kujō Jun'ichi-keiji, right? You're here to catch that burglar! The police left us hanging last time. We thought we'd never hear from you again."

Shinichi didn't bother to correct his butchered name. "I'm not with the police. There weren't enough elements for them to pursue the investigation, so they decided to focus their efforts on other priorities. I was hired to see if I could glean anything else," he explained.

"Oh, I should have known." She seemed a little disappointed. "Well, at least someone is taking care of it." She looked him over with a raised eyebrow. Shinichi kept a polite smile.

"Could you please tell me everything unusual you noticed on the day of the incident?"

The interview lasted around half an hour. The woman didn't witness the events and only saw the immediate aftermath. She remembered a food truck driving around the corner of the street as she walked in the direction of her workplace, but she didn't know if it was of any relevance to the case. The front camera had been down for a few days and the owner had yet to call the manufacturer to have it replaced. He'd been mad that a camera system they had installed only a few months ago was already defective. This delay made things quite difficult with the shop's insurance.

Shinichi asked her a series of questions and compared the answers to her police statement. He hoped to retrieve some details the first responder had forgotten to ask about. Tanaka-san scrutinized him as he wrote down his report and carefully considered his next questions.

"You know. I'd hoped I wouldn't see another officer so soon. Or detective, whatever. This must be the fourth or fifth time I've been questioned? More than enough for a lifetime," she sighed.

"Uh?" Shinichi blinked. "I thought you were only questioned once?"

"Oh! I mean this isn't the first time I'm a witness in a case. The first time was a murder." She shuddered at that. "I was asked about a customer who turned out to be the culprit. It was maybe two years ago?"

"Hm. What happened exactly?" he asked, curious.

"I don't remember that well but apparently he poisoned his wife with a detergent mix. It was just two streets away from here! They were in a nasty divorce."

"Ah, I remember that case. You were the witness?"

"It made the news for a while because the neighbor was sent to the hospital," she mused. "They asked me back so many times. It was really tiresome."

"Is that so?" he enquired.

She scratched her neck. "Between you and me, I'm still not sure of who I saw that day."

Shinichi jolted. "Pardon?!" Wasn't it her statement that exposed the culprit?

Tanaka-san blushed. "I have a terrible memory with people. When the first officer came, I believed I saw a man. Later, I thought a little more about it, and I realized I didn't remember. Then, I heard he confessed."

"I see. So retracting your statement wouldn't have hurt the case." He tried to calm down. His heart was still pounding from the shock.

"I was asked to come to the station to repeat my statement. I told them I wasn't certain of my memory."

Perfect, thought Shinichi. We're back on safe grounds.

"A few days later, I was called back. The prosecutor came into the questioning room wearing a serious face. He told me that a few hours after the culprit confessed, he asked for a lawyer, and claimed he wasn't guilty after all! The nerve of him!"

"Some people can't accept that they were caught," Shinichi mused.

"But that wasn't all: because I had made that previous statement, if the judge found him not guilty, he could charge me for perjury. The prosecutor explained it clearly. He was very worried for me."

But… that's not true. It would not stick. Not if she retracted it, Shinichi thought in bewilderment.

"What happened then?" he asked. A chill was racing up his spine. He had to know.

"They were sure he did it: he had visited her that day, he had a strong motive, he was abusive. But, according to the prosecutor, if I retracted my testimony, it would make the entire case look weak, and a good lawyer would get him freed. It was in my hands."

What?

"So I confirmed that I had seen him."

What?!

Shinichi fought very hard to keep a straight face. This was… This was witness tampering.

"I did my civic duty. One less killer in the streets. The prosecutor looked thankful," she finished.

"…I see." Shinichi answered.

…

No, he didn't see.

…

Oh, no… Please, no…

…

He felt sick.

"You had a strange customer that day, right ? A man who bought only detergent and bath salts?" the young policeman asked her eagerly. He looked sure of himself, determined.

"Ah! I remember that purchase! It was odd because there were only these two items."

The policeman happily lent her a notebook. "Could you put it in writing? We will need your testimony in court."

"Of course! What should I write?" she asked, pleased to be of use.

"Only what you told me: A man bought detergent and bath salts on that day."

"A man? He was a bit taller than me. I guess it was a man." She wrote the words down.