Cut It Out, Uncle Mouri

Detective Conan Fan Fiction: The Great Detective

After I transmigrated into Kogoro Mouri, I did three things.

First, I dodged Conan's anesthetic dart.

Second, I identified the culprit before he could.

Third, I discovered that someone in this world was "writing the script."

The anesthetic at Cupido Central Hospital had been switched. The girl who died on the operating table was missing a front tooth. The doctor who handed over the knife had stayed silent for twenty-three years. The founder of a pharmaceutical company had erased his household registration and spent thirty years repairing books in an old bookstore, waiting for someone to knock on the door.

They carved their names inside life jackets, on the dividers between bookshelves, and into temple pillars. Conan made rubbings of the symbols one by one: T, a hand, a question mark, M, 307, Yuki, a circle, a crow. He folded them up and put them in his pocket.

"I'll keep them safe for you," he said.

Justice is the law's business. Remembering is a human responsibility.

This is a story about remembering.

I patted his head. "Kid, aim better next time."

From that day on, Beika Town had one more useless man who was fully awake.

And the bespectacled high school student began to question his life.

[Warning: This may be the most punchable Kogoro Mouri you've ever seen]