Borrowing a Corpse to Return the Soul

In the seaside villa by Tokyo Bay, the famed detective Kogoro basked in the chorus of congratulations, having once again unraveled a perfect mystery.

“Yes, I knew the culprit from the very start. I deliberately guessed wrong earlier to lower his guard. After all, to outwit a renowned detective like me, he would have become quite dizzy with pride…”

Outside the door, a boy adjusting his bow tie couldn’t help but mutter, “The only one dizzy with pride here is you, old man… ah!”

His grumbling was cut short as a head popped out from the doorway, startling him. “Ran? Oh, it’s you.”

Ran Mori asked in confusion, “What is it, Conan?”

“N-nothing, Ran,” stammered the boy—high school detective Shinichi Kudo, currently living under the alias Conan Edogawa—eagerly changing the subject. “Look, the beach over there is beautiful! Let’s check it out.”

“Ah, yes.”

Ran’s train of thought shifted as well. The purpose of their trip was clear in her mind: thanks to a stroke of luck—winning a luxury villa experience card from a cup noodle lottery—the family rented a car and came for a holiday. Of course, they’d stumbled into yet another murder case. But her father, as always, managed to solve it with razor-sharp deduction.

“Let’s spend the rest of our time enjoying the vacation!”

She grabbed Conan’s hand and led him toward the shore.

Under the moonlight, the gentle sea breeze played with the girl’s long hair and traced the graceful lines of her silhouette. Conan felt his cheeks flush. Just as he tried to let go of her hand, he caught a glimpse of lingering concern in her eyes.

At that moment, Conan wanted to say something, but then his eyes widened in shock. “Ran, I… wait, what are you doing, taking off your clothes?!”

Before he could react, Ran dove into the dark waters like a swift fish.

“Ran! Ran?!”

Conan dashed to the water’s edge, kicked off his shoes, and was about to jump in when Ran’s voice called out from the waves. “Conan, call an ambulance! Someone’s drowning!”

Peering through his special glasses, Conan saw Ran swimming toward the shore, supporting a limp figure. He exhaled with relief and quickly dialed for emergency help.

Five minutes later, an ambulance arrived on the beach. After frantic medical attention, the drowning victim slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re awake. Are you alright?”

Kisaragi Luming blinked, his vision gradually sharpening, and saw a relieved doctor’s face first.

“Doctor…?”

He hesitated, sighing inwardly. He’d already made arrangements for his final affairs—why spend money on these pointless procedures?

Still, having one last glimpse of his beloved before death, he felt a contradictory satisfaction.

He asked the doctor, “Where’s Satoru? I want to see him.”

The doctor paused. “Sorry, who?”

“My beloved… wait, my voice?”

Before he could explain, Kisaragi realized something was wrong—when had his voice become so young? Instinctively, he reached for his throat and was shocked to see a slender, youthful hand—hardly one that belonged to a man worn by decades of work in kitchens and at desks.

What was happening?

Kisaragi jerked his head around, only to realize this wasn’t his hospital room in Tokyo, but an unfamiliar beach.

Beyond the police tape, voices drifted over:

“Poor child…”

“Jumped into the sea…”

“Orphan…”

“Name: Setsuka Mochizuki…”

The sensation of wet, clinging clothes, the briny reek of seaweed, and the unfamiliar name of a suicide victim repeated by the police—Kisaragi’s mind went blank, quickly spiraling into an absurd possibility.

He turned to the doctor, his tone urgent. “Do you have a mirror or something similar?”

The doctor nodded reflexively. “I have a phone.”

He handed over his phone with the front camera on.

Kisaragi looked down and saw a strange, childish face on the screen. Before he could process it, he noticed the notification bar: June 2006… Yet the year he’d been given a critical diagnosis was 2001.

Kisaragi’s head lolled to the side, and he fainted dead away.

“Help! We need a stretcher!”

In the crowd, Conan, who had witnessed everything, fell into deep thought.

“You think there’s something off about him too?”

A girl’s voice, oddly mature for her age, sounded behind him.

Conan nodded. “Yes. Too many of his unconscious habits don’t match his age.”

The girl, Ai Haibara, joined Conan, gazing after the departing ambulance. “Let’s split up. Tomorrow, take Ran to visit him at the hospital. I’ll check into this Satoru he mentioned.”

“Better to be overly cautious than to let something slip by. After all, that organization is a viper, killing without hesitation…”

The next day, at Beika Town Hospital.

Kisaragi sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, forcing himself to accept the absurd reality.

He, Kisaragi Luming, a corporate drone who’d worked nearly thirty years and was awaiting death from a terminal illness, had awoken in the body of a boy who had tried to end his own life five years in the future!

Rather than joy at this second chance, he felt only sorrow for Setsuka Mochizuki, the soul whose body he now inhabited, and the pain that led him to bid the world farewell by drowning.

Eavesdropping on the doctors and nurses, Kisaragi gleaned the outline of this boy’s brief and tragic life—

Setsuka Mochizuki, abandoned by his parents at birth, was found and raised by a shrine maiden. At age ten, a deliberate arson destroyed the shrine and claimed his adoptive mother’s life. Orphaned again, he was sent to a Hokkaido orphanage.

Life there was harsh. The fire left terrible scars on his arm, marking him as cursed and making him a target for bullying.

When he finally tracked down news of his birth parents, he ran away to Tokyo, desperate for answers. But all he faced was hatred and curses—accused of breaking up a family and coveting their money.

Driven out, devastated, Setsuka cast himself into the cold sea, leaving behind a world that had never shown him kindness.

As both an orphan and a father, Kisaragi’s heart ached with rage. Such a good child, driven into endless darkness by the cruelty of others.

Even this meek office worker felt a surge of retributive anger.

Such villains did not deserve to live.

Just then, Conan, visiting under the pretense of checking on him, entered the room. Caught off guard by the cold, piercing look in Setsuka’s golden eyes, Conan dropped the fruit basket he was carrying, scattering its contents.

That look—

Conan involuntarily equated Setsuka with Gin, the man who haunted his nightmares.

“Why are you standing there, Conan?” Ran, blocked by Conan, asked in confusion. Conan instinctively tried to pull her out of the suspected Black Organization member’s line of sight. “Ran, let’s go…”

Wham!

Kogoro’s fist landed on Conan’s head. “Brat, can’t even hold a fruit basket? Out of the way.”

“Ow!”

No! He’ll hear us.

Realizing this, Conan tried to cover his mouth, but it was too late. Kisaragi, sitting on the bed, had already turned his gaze toward him. Conan instinctively reached for his tranquilizer needle, but those bright, glassy eyes passed over him and landed on Ran.

Kisaragi, recalling the memory of being fished out of the water, felt immense gratitude toward this girl, his savior. “Ran…” He caught himself, realizing his new identity, and awkwardly mimicked Conan. “Sister, the nurse said you saved me. Thank you.”

After speaking, Kisaragi ducked his head in embarrassment. For a man over thirty to call a girl just a few years his junior “sister”—how mortifying.

Ran, however, misunderstood. Remembering the case file she’d read on the way, she gripped Setsuka’s hand, her voice full of empathy. “Setsuka, let the past stay in the past, alright? Inspector Megure has already contacted the authorities in Hokkaido and ordered the orphanage to reform. There won’t be any more bullying. As for your parents—no, anyone who could abandon their own child doesn’t deserve to be called a parent! They’ve committed a crime. If you want, my mother can help you sue them!”

Her righteous indignation was clear, and even the usually indifferent Kogoro remained silent.

Kisaragi felt deeply grateful to Ran. Even without her help, he would have made those bullies and his birth parents pay for their cruelty.

He responded earnestly, “I won’t try to end my life anymore. I’ve let it go. I won’t grieve for those who aren’t worth it. I’ll live for myself.”

Since fate had placed him in Setsuka’s body, he would avenge him and cherish this new life.

Ran, relieved to see him in good spirits, chattered on, offering comfort. As Kisaragi struggled to keep up, Kogoro suddenly asked, “So, kid, what are your plans now?”

Plans? Of course, he wanted to see his family again.

When he closed his eyes, his child was just born, a tiny bundle. It had been five years—how tall was he now? Up to Kisaragi’s waist? And his other father…

But with Setsuka’s identity, that was a secret he could never reveal.

“Well…”

Before he could make up an excuse, Kogoro pressed on, “What, you’re not going to continue your education? Want to be a dropout who can’t even get into college?”

Having failed to enter college in both his lives, Kisaragi felt the sting of that jab.

Kogoro barked, “Hey, I’m talking to you, kid.”

Kisaragi steeled himself. “I’ll keep studying. I’ll take the college entrance exams.” He repeated to himself, He’s older than me, he’s older than me, to ease his pride. “Thank you for your concern, sir.”

“Now that’s the spirit of a man!” Kogoro, satisfied, patted his shoulder. “Once you’re better, you can come stay at my office!”

Kisaragi was taken aback. “Huh?!”

Ran, meanwhile, asked kindly, “Setsuka, would you like to live with us?”

“What?”

“Ah!”

Kisaragi and Conan exclaimed in unison.

He instinctively wanted to refuse. “That’s really…”

The main thing was, Kisaragi couldn’t stomach calling someone just a few years older than himself “uncle” for the rest of his life.

Kogoro caught his hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “I plan to sponsor you to attend Teitan High with Ran until you come of age. If you don’t want that, I’ll have Inspector Megure send you back to Hokkaido.”

Conan interjected, “When was this decided? Why didn’t I know?”

Wham.

Conan received another punch from Kogoro.

“Why should I discuss it with a kid like you?”

Conan: …

Relieved that he wasn’t being adopted outright, Kisaragi decided that, were he not a sixteen-year-old minor, he would have graciously thanked Kogoro and politely declined the offer.

But as Setsuka, an orphan with no one in the world, he couldn’t leave the hospital without being shadowed by two guards, lest he try to drown himself again.

For now, he forced himself to nod. “Thank you…”

Kogoro turned away. “If you want to thank someone, thank Ran and Eri. They pestered me until I gave in!” But his genuine concern was unmistakable.

Kisaragi quietly committed this kindness to memory and resolved to repay the family one day.

Two days later, Kisaragi was discharged from the hospital, with Kogoro Mori listed as his temporary guardian. He was brought to the Mori Detective Agency by Ran, where he shared a futon on the floor with Conan.