Chapter 41: Startling Changes
However, had Tom installed some kind of monitor near him? He only had a slight cold, and Jerry had already been dispatched with something.
Conan wondered about that for a moment, but his feet did not falter. He took Jerry to the office door and found a small bottle of clear liquid sitting on the entrance table.
There wasn't much in it — maybe a hundred or two hundred milliliters at most.
Jerry shoved the bottle into Conan's hand, then stood expectantly, as if waiting for him to drink it.
Conan regarded the unknown liquid with caution. He had planned to open the cap, sniff it briefly, and hand it to Professor Agasa for analysis to identify its components. But as soon as he loosened the cap and lifted the bottle to his nose, lightning-like arcs of light flared from Jerry and shot toward the bottle.
This time, Jerry's target wasn't a spirit but the bottle in Conan's grip.
Before Conan could react, the strange force affected him. His mouth moved almost of its own accord, and the next instant the bottle was empty.
Only after swallowing the last drop did Conan feel a burning heat in his throat and finally detect the faint aroma of alcohol left on his breath.
Tom had instructed Jerry to make him drink it personally. What exactly did that Kage mean?
Jerry produced a small note and presented it to Conan. Conan, already feeling feverish from the cold, grew a little lightheaded after the drink, but the quantity wasn't enough to make him drunk. He could still read.
The typed note said simply: go back to your room and get a good night's sleep; your cold should be gone by morning. If you were lucky, your body might undergo some pleasant changes.
Pleasant changes?
Conan frowned. He had heard of medicated wine before, but never one described like this. Still, since it had been Tom's arrangement, he decided to follow the instruction. By morning he would know what, if anything, had changed.
He pocketed the empty bottle anyway — it could be useful evidence for Agasa to analyze later — and returned home.
Uncle Mouri was already preoccupied in his room celebrating the ten million yen check Conan's mother had given him, so a faint scent of alcohol on Conan wouldn't attract Ran's notice. Ran didn't sense anything unusual; she was still fussing about her father's drinking and insisted Conan bathe with her.
Conan had hesitated but eventually agreed. After a too-hot bath he came out flushed; Ran didn't notice anything strange, yet Conan felt a strange surge climbing through his body.
Could the medicated wine already be taking effect?
Back in the futon, Conan tried to relax, but his pulse would not calm. The bath should have slowed his heart rate, yet it kept accelerating. His body temperature climbed steadily; he began to sweat heavily. If he had measured it then, he was certain it would have been above forty degrees Celsius.
Such a drastic reaction from such a small dose of wine — this was beyond typical medicinal effects.
He bit his lip to stifle a sound, but his breathing grew heavier and heavier. Ran, on the bed, finally noticed. She leaned down and saw Conan drenched in sweat, clutching his chest, eyes slightly unfocused.
"Conan, what's wrong?" she blurted, thinking he'd suddenly fallen ill. She pressed a hand to his forehead and recoiled — he was burning hot.
"This is way more than a fever," she muttered, alarmed. She reached for her phone to call emergency services — but every call line was busy. She tried several times, no connection.
"Conan, I'm going to get a doctor now!" Ran snapped, hurriedly getting up to change her clothes to head out to the nearest clinic.
Conan wanted to stop her, but words failed him. He could only watch Ran move around the room as panic rose in his chest.
Suddenly a memory surged up: the night he had been forced to take the poison by Gin. Had Tom given him another dose of APTX4869? If his body regressed further, would he become a newborn? The thought of that horror made him shudder.
Then his pajamas — already soaked — tightened in a new way. Conan's eyes widened. An emotion he'd never expected welled up inside him.
Perhaps he wasn't shrinking again. Perhaps he was returning to his original appearance.
What had Tom made him drink? If he returned to Shinichi now — with Ran right beside him — his identity would be revealed instantly. Ran seeing him change back would wreck everything.
Above all, Ran mustn't go out to fetch a doctor; if a physician saw him revert to his original form, hiding would be impossible.
Summoning strength, Conan grabbed at Ran's pajama leg as she moved to the door and pulled her back. Ran, startled, spun and prepared to scold him, but then she stopped — the expression on her face shifting into stunned recognition.
Where the child Conan had been small and under a meter tall, the boy in front of her now looked older — like a fifth- or sixth-grade elementary student. The pajamas that had been loose were absurdly tight.
And the way he looked at her — it was the lost boy she had worried about for weeks.
"Shi… Shinichi?" Her voice trailed away. Her brain seemed to freeze.
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a quilt and sweating profusely, Kudo Shinichi was spilling out everything to Ran: how his body had been shrunk, why he'd hidden with the Mouri household, the Black Organization, his real parents, even that the woman who picked him up the day before had been his actual mother, Yukiko Kudo, in disguise. He explained Tom as an ally working against the Organization. Nothing was held back.
Oddly, telling it all made him lighter. He no longer had the burden of concealment; he felt relieved to have told Ran the truth. The one regret that fluttered through his mind — in the middle of confession — was petty and human: no more bathing with Ran casually.
He dismissed that thought at once. Now that he'd returned to his original form he couldn't stay at the Mouri home any longer. If his parents hadn't yet left Japan, he'd ask his mother for a disguise mask and change identity. Why hadn't he learned those craft skills years ago when he'd traveled with his father?
Ran's emotions whiplashed in ten minutes: worry, shock, anger at being deceived, then concern again. She'd never imagined those two dark-suited men at the amusement park were part of a transnational crime syndicate, nor that a single dose of poison could change someone's body so dramatically. She remembered the day Conan had first appeared — the same day Shinichi disappeared. She'd always suspected oddities in the household, and now they snapped into place like pieces of a puzzle.
Ran's initial fury at being deceived eased into a quieter, worried anger. If Shinichi hadn't suddenly grown ill today, how long would he have continued the ruse? That thought made her hand ball into a fist. If not for his sweat and weakness, she would have hit him.
Shinichi, seeing her fingers clench, watched nervously. After a long interval, he soothed and explained further, making promises and playing the penitent until Ran's breathing calmed and his words seemed to placate her.
When Ran finally asked the most pressing question, Shinichi answered bluntly.
"So — have you found the antidote?"
He wiped his forehead. "I'm not sure. Tom gave it to me — I thought it was only for my cold." He flexed his fingers, feeling weak. He also feared the change might be only temporary, that his reversion could flicker.
A soft knock at the window cut through the small peace. Neither of them expected visitors — it wasn't a ground-floor room — who could be at the window at that hour?
Shinichi's eyes sharpened. Jerry, no doubt. He told Ran to open the window and look.
She obeyed, puzzled. A note lay on the sill; nobody else was in sight. Ran picked it up, then closed the window. She hadn't seen anyone, but Shinichi had — and Jerry popped its head in a moment later, waved at him, and then disappeared. Its business for the night was done.
Ran handed Shinichi the note. He read aloud:
> How do you like the little gift I gave you? There's still drug resistance, so it probably won't last long, but I hope it surprised you.
Next time we meet I'll tell you exactly what you drank. Since Ran already knows your identity, you needn't rush to become Shinichi before dealing with the Organization.
Ran frowned at the casual tone. The note was clearly premeditated; whoever sent it had expected precisely this reaction. Tom's tactics were ruthless.
Shinichi sighed. Tom had nudged him. He'd advocated honesty to Ran before but Shinichi had hesitated. Tom had seen the hesitation and forced the issue — a shove into revelation.
"This is the partner I mentioned," Shinichi said. "He told me to tell you. I wanted to find the right time, but he forced the issue. Using this precious antidote now — it feels like a waste."
Ran looked at him, conflicted: angry at being kept in the dark but relieved to finally know the truth. Shinichi felt ashamed yet oddly buoyed; the concealment was over for now, and with Ran's knowledge, there was someone he could trust — at least for the immediate future.