By the time Karasawa finally made it to Mī Station, two hours had already passed.
Even though he wasn't Japanese before the transmigration, Karasawa had lived in Tokyo. He had some mental preparation for the chaos of riding the subway and navigating the labyrinthine Shibuya Station.
But the "Conan-verse" version of the underground transit system—enhanced with a healthy dose of mystery—still managed to throw him off. He completely underestimated the time it would take. By the time he stumbled upon Poirot Café, it was already past two in the afternoon.
Technically, he was supposed to head to Teitan High School today to complete his enrollment. With this delay, dinner might be off the table.
Mourning his faintly aching stomach for two seconds, Karasawa pushed open the door to the café.
There were only a few patrons inside. Two staff members stood behind the long counter chatting with the guests, but at the sound of the door, all eyes turned to him.
"!"
The moment Karasawa looked up and saw the pair, his heart skipped a beat.
The girl with long hair on the left had a gentle and warm demeanor—likely Azusa Enomoto, the café's regular waitress from the manga. But the man on the right—his appearance was simply too iconic. With sun-kissed skin and golden-blond hair, anyone who had ever watched Detective Conan could name him instantly.
Why the hell is Furuya Rei here?!
Seeing Karasawa frozen in place at the entrance, clearly at a loss, Azusa tilted her head and observed him. Her gaze shifted from his school uniform to his unusual hair color and blue eyes.
"Ah!" She lightly tapped her fist into her palm, eyes lighting up with realization. "You must be the high schooler the owner told us about—Mr. Karasawa Akira, right?"
Snapping out of it, Karasawa reflexively bowed and introduced himself. "I'm terribly sorry for the intrusion. Nice to meet you—I'm Karasawa Akira, here to stay for a while. Please take care of me."
His textbook-perfect "introduction trifecta" made Azusa smile. A bit skittish, clearly nervous, he looked like a shy and socially awkward teen who didn't quite know how to interact with others.
"Kinda cute, isn't he?" she whispered to Furuya.
Furuya, now also carefully sizing up Karasawa, responded to her whisper with a warm, approachable smile. He raised a hand in greeting. "No need to be so nervous. The owner gave us a heads-up. I'm Furuya Rei, and this is Azusa Enomoto—we both work here. Looking forward to living with you."
Karasawa tried to return his smile as he stepped further into the café, doing his best to regulate his wildly spiking heart rate.
On the surface, he looked calm—but inside, it was utter chaos.
What the hell is going on? Has the Conan timeline already advanced that far? If Furuya's working at Poirot, that means Akai Shuichi must've already assumed his Subaru Okiya identity, right?
But wait, didn't he just see a newspaper headline earlier that read something like "High School Detective Kudo Shinichi Solves Another Case"? That would mean Shinichi is still active!
Then what's Furuya doing here…?
This doesn't look good. If things keep going like this, he won't even get to eat dinner tonight—and worse, his stay here might already be compromised.
"Your personal items arrived yesterday—we put them upstairs for you," Azusa said, pointing to the wooden staircase behind the counter. "You can go up and rest first. If you need anything, just let us know."
Figuring Karasawa might be overwhelmed by the stares of the other patrons, Azusa thoughtfully offered him an escape route.
"Thank you very much, but I've already lost a lot of time on the way here. I'm worried I won't make it to school in time to finalize enrollment. Could I trouble you for the residency verification document first?" Karasawa asked carefully, not sure how much they knew about his situation. He deliberately used the vague word "residency."
What he actually needed was a volunteer guardian certification for his observation and probationary period. Karasawa Akira, after all, was effectively on parole. Without that document—issued by someone the school recognized as a temporary guardian willing to take responsibility and report regularly—no high school would want to accept a juvenile offender.
"Verification…?" Azusa repeated, confused.
Furuya smoothly cut in. "Ah, you mean the proof of residency? I've got it. The owner mentioned it to me. You're transferring to Teitan High, right? It's not far—I can take you there."
Karasawa turned and met his eyes—light violet-gray, calm and unreadable. That smile said everything: Furuya had understood exactly what he meant.
He looked around at the customers in the café and asked in a low voice, "Is it okay? Isn't it still business hours?"
"No worries, I've got things covered here," Azusa quickly said as she nudged Furuya toward the door. "Go ahead and take him."
So Karasawa stood quietly to the side like a good student, watching Furuya take off his apron, pull on a jacket, and head for the door.
But his hands, clenched tightly around the strap of his commuting bag, were already digging into the fabric.
Good lord.
Azusa probably thought he just needed a simple address verification. But Karasawa knew the truth—this wasn't something a random employee could handle.
So in the end, his temporary guardian wasn't the elusive café owner who never showed his face…
It was Furuya Rei?!
As they walked, Karasawa stared intently at the shadow cast by Furuya's footsteps, afraid that if he let his expression slip, this razor-sharp fake cop would see right through him.
It's over. Kudo Shinichi hasn't even taken his mystery knockout blow yet, and Karasawa's already tripping red flags with the Black Organization.
Yes—Black Org. It had to be.
No matter what layered disguise or ulterior motive was in play, once Furuya was operating under his public identity, it always meant one thing—
He was acting as Bourbon, undercover.
In the original plot, Bourbon started working at Poirot to investigate Mouri Kogoro. He didn't just decide on a whim to babysit some high schooler.
That meant Karasawa must've done something that triggered his involvement—some connection to the Organization that set this all off.
"You seem nervous, Karasawa-kun?" Furuya suddenly turned and spoke, catching Karasawa staring at the ground.
"Y-yes. I'm sorry." Karasawa kept up his "shy loner" act, his voice barely above a whisper. He raised his gaze just thirty degrees—enough to avoid looking straight into Furuya's eyes, and instead fixated on his sleeve.
Karasawa's memory of this body's past was still patchy at best. Aside from a few fragmented scenes, he didn't even remember his parents' names. Who knew what kind of personality the original Karasawa had?
Furuya probably knew more than he did. Given his style, he wouldn't come close without digging into every last detail of Karasawa's background.
So Karasawa decided to just improvise. After all, even if the original had been an extroverted social butterfly, getting framed for a felony could easily turn anyone into a shut-in.
Furuya's voice remained gentle, almost soothing. "It's okay. I understand your situation. Since the owner is often abroad, I'll be the one looking after you for the next year."
Knew it.
Karasawa fell silent for a moment. He didn't follow up—if he let Furuya lead the conversation, it'd just be one polite loop after another. And truth be told? Furuya probably knew more than he ever would.
So instead, he asked, "So… Miss Enomoto, or anyone else at the café… They all know too, right?"
He phrased it as a question, but his tone was flat, more like a statement.
Furuya raised an eyebrow.
Despite being a spy, Furuya was at heart a Red Side loyalist. He had a soft spot for sensitive kids, and seeing Karasawa like this—guarded, hurt—made him drop the interrogation act.
"No. Only I know. You don't have to worry. Your privacy is safe with us."
During the walk, Karasawa had already built a mental profile to stick to—and now, he played the part flawlessly. With a bitter smile, voice low and distant, he said what Furuya had been carefully avoiding:
"Right. If people knew there was a juvenile felon staying above the café, it'd ruin your reputation. Business would suffer."
Furuya's brows furrowed. "No, that's not—don't think like that, Karasawa-kun."
"I'll do my best not to be a burden," Karasawa continued, still not looking up. His lashes hid the vivid blue of his eyes. "I'll keep my head down. It's just a year. I won't cause trouble."
That bleak, defeated attitude made Furuya drop the line of questioning entirely. Instead, he changed the subject to Teitan High.
"It's actually a well-known school here in Tokyo. Great college placement record. Transferring in might actually be a good opportunity for you."
He spoke gently—if his tone at the start was for middle schoolers, now it was bordering on kindergarten-teacher levels of soothing.
"The student body is really friendly too. You can relax a little."
Karasawa finally lifted his gaze. He didn't say anything, but his expression clearly said he wasn't buying it.
Friendly atmosphere? In Mī Town?
Yeah, right. Sure. I believe you. Totally.
He'd made this same face earlier on the train—when he forced a smile, his cheeks puffed up like a baby hamster. It wasn't intentional—he still wasn't used to this new face.
But Furuya couldn't help it. He reached out and ruffled Karasawa's hair.
"Don't worry. It's going to be fine. That building across the street—that's Teitan High."
Karasawa looked up and saw the name carved into the stone gate: Teitan High School.
…Come to think of it, the school in Persona 5 was called Shujin Academy. A pun, because "Shujin" sounds like "prisoner" in Japanese—mirroring the protagonist's fate.
And Teitan? Also a pun. It's "tantei" (detective) with the syllables flipped.
…Great. His whole life now was just a giant pile of pun-based destinies.
Grumbling in his heart, Karasawa obediently followed Furuya into the most iconic otaku landmark in town.