Amuro Toru was a vest spirit—so many identities, so many disguises, and all of them effortlessly slipped into, like changing shirts. If he wanted to be chatty, he could out-talk a talk show host.
He adapted to the vibe in no time.
Truthfully, Amuro hadn't planned to hang out with two high school girls and one elementary school student. That wasn't on his weekend bingo card. But earlier, the moment Jiang Xia saw those three, he acted like his legs gave out. Couldn't even call after him.
Amuro had just gone downstairs with Jiang Xia. If he suddenly bailed now, it'd look suspicious. If someone shady was watching them in the restaurant, this kind of behavior could get flagged.
So Amuro reluctantly stuck with the group, consoling himself with the classic logic: more people, better cover.
Also… Amuro was kinda curious. Jiang Xia's reaction to those three was very out of the ordinary. The way he froze just now on the stairs—Amuro had briefly wondered if he'd just spotted a traitor in the crowd.
But when Amuro followed his gaze, all he saw were two girls and one unthreatening kid. Nothing about them screamed "spy" or "danger."
While Amuro made small talk with the group, Jiang Xia's eyes scanned the homestay, landing on a waiter.
No tough guy with dark skin in sight. Not the one he was hoping for.
He glanced at Ran Mouri and Sonoko Suzuki. Both of them were in yukatas—clearly just back from a summer festival. Sonoko even had a camera slung around her.
...These vibes were oddly familiar. Like the setup for one of those cases.
If it was that case, then Suzuki Sonoko had already been marked by a serial killer.
That guy—post-breakup rage machine—hated fashionable girls with dyed hair. His go-to move: lure them to a secluded spot, then gut them like fish with a knife. Literally. He'd already offed one person tonight, and now that Sonoko had walked by the crime scene, she'd be next on his to-stab list.
All because the killer suspected she'd snapped a photo of him mid-murder.
Logically, in a murder-in-the-wilds setting—pitch-black night, knife in hand—he should've stormed the trio, made it a triple kill, and grabbed the camera.
But some sixth sense made the killer freeze in the bushes. He just watched the three walk away.
He took a good look at Sonoko's face, figured she'd snapped a photo without realizing, and decided to tail them, find their hotel, and steal the film later. Thus began his serial stalker arc.
By genre logic, this would be the part where some dashing hero swooped in to save the day.
But Jiang Xia looked around and saw no such hero.
Oh well. Didn't matter.
The killer was a yinbi scumbag anyway. Jiang Xia had dealt with worse. What mattered more was knocking on him early—he probably had a nice stockpile of shikigami and death vibes. That kind of loot? Very satisfying.
While mentally sketching out a ghost-catching plan, Jiang Xia's food arrived.
As they ate, Jiang Xia quietly turned to Amuro. When he got a nod of non-resistance, he looked up and asked the others, "Wanna visit the pottery classroom nearby tomorrow? A client gave me a bunch of experience tickets—no headcount limit."
Of course the three agreed.
Ran's eyes lit up. "Perfect! I'm visiting someone soon and haven't picked a gift yet. Handmade pottery could be nice."
Conan's ears twitched. "Who are you visiting?" he asked with the suspicion of a jealous husband.
Ran had planned to meet her mom, who was still separated from Kogoro Mouri. They did the occasional mother-daughter catch-up thing.
But then she remembered Conan was a bear child with zero privacy filters. If she told him, he'd probably blab to Kogoro, who'd get mad for no reason.
So Ran paused, then flicked Conan lightly on the head. "Kids shouldn't ask about adult business."
Sonoko nodded along. Her "civilian charm strategy" was still going strong, meaning it wasn't working at all. Whether on the train, at the festival, or now while eating, every single guy who looked their way ended up ogling Ran.
The only exception was Jiang Xia.
But Jiang Xia was a special case. According to Sonoko's careful observation, he looked at everyone the same—including Conan.
Sonoko sighed. If no handsome stranger was gonna fall in love with her, she might as well tag along to the pottery class.
Speaking of, Jiang Xia's boss was apparently pretty good-looking. Indeed, handsome men did tend to travel in packs…
…
It was getting late. They agreed to meet the next morning and split up for the night.
In the dead of night, Amuro headed to Kikuemon's house for recon. Jiang Xia didn't come.
Before leaving, Amuro casually said that if anything happened, Jiang Xia could call the police.
Some members of the organization actually do call the cops when in trouble. Many have respectable public identities and prefer to commit crimes without leaving a trail.
To people like that, the police are just another tool. So Amuro wasn't worried about blowing his cover.
Jiang Xia watched Amuro climb over a wall and vanish. Then he turned away from the window and got ready for bed, telling his ghosts to wake him when Amuro came back. That way, he could pretend he'd been on lookout duty the whole time.
To the organization, there was probably some shady character out there trying to eavesdrop on their shady pottery meeting.
But to Jiang Xia, the "eavesdropping pot" they kept in the conference room was probably just something the pottery maker had created for a future murder case—then accidentally sold off before it could be weaponized.
Kikuemon's place didn't even have a dog, let alone a security system. If Amuro wanted to sneak in—or even walk around openly—nothing would stop him. So Jiang Xia skipping this mission didn't bother his conscience one bit.
…
Amuro came back empty-handed. Better luck next time.
The pottery classroom didn't open until afternoon. Around noon, the five of them left the homestay.
That's when Jiang Xia finally spotted his target. The killer was nearby, loitering in a floral shirt like some budget playboy.
From Jiang Xia's POV, he might as well have been holding a sign that said "Murderer." Dude had four shikigami wrapped around his legs. In a crowd, he was a lighthouse beaming free ghost loot here.
Masahiko Dori—the killer—had hoped to lure Sonoko in by acting charming. He'd even heard her complain last night that no one hit on her. Perfect opportunity.
But now, out of nowhere, not one but two handsome guys had appeared around her. Dori watched for a bit and realized his plan might not work unless Sonoko had a thing for washed-up uncles.
Still, he had to get that film. If she developed it, he was done for.
Then he saw Sonoko and the others leaving the homestay.
He clenched his jaw and started walking toward them, ready to play the "oh hey, small world" card and worm his way into the group.
But just then—Dori froze.
The group had stopped.
A woman in a black dress stepped out of the shadows under the porch and blocked their path.
…
Sonoko had never seen this woman before.
Amuro thought she looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't place her.
Ran and Conan, though? Eyes wide. Shook.
That gauzy black dress. The wide-brimmed sun hat. That ghostly pale skin. The aura that screamed not from around here.
But what unsettled them most was what they knew.
This woman—"Anonymous"—had taken a bag full of bombs, jumped off the Shinkansen, and exploded in a blaze of self-sacrifice.
They watched her die.
Now she was here, standing in front of them.
Ran's heart was pounding. She wanted to thank this ghost-hero who had saved everyone's lives—but at the same time, she was seconds from fainting.
She settled for a shaky, awkward bow, trying to balance terror and gratitude in a single motion.
Anonymous nodded slightly.
Then she tipped her hat back just enough to reveal her pitch-dark eyes—and looked directly at Suzuki Sonoko.
"Hello," she said.
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 30 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 20/50(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS*
Glossary:
Vest spirit: A person with many secret identities or disguises.
Bear child: A bratty or mischievous kid; commonly used in Chinese to describe annoying children.