I'm writing a fictional immortality script in Detective Conan.

More than twenty years later, Kuroda Hyōe can still clearly recall that hazy, rainy afternoon.

On the afternoon of Children's Day, he patrolled his assigned area as usual.

Just a few days ago, he led his colleagues in the jurisdiction to catch a child abduction gang that had been on the run for a long time.

This gang of criminals has been committing crimes in remote areas of Nagano for years, and their superiors at various police stations have long been troubled by it.

At the time, the election for a new mayor was taking place, and public discontent would seriously affect the incumbent mayor's succession. Under pressure from higher-ups, the police department even published a bold statement in the newspaper about their ambition to catch criminals on the eve of Children's Day.

'Who would have thought that these were the same people who initially found the case troublesome and delayed its resolution?'

With a mocking smirk, Kuroda Heibei picked up a discarded aluminum can from the sidewalk and walked towards the trash can across the street.

He will soon be nearly thirty. After years of hard work and dedication at the grassroots level, he remains stuck at the starting point of his career as a police inspector. His career shows no signs of progress, and family life seems a distant dream. The passion of his youth has gradually faded under the harsh realities of life, leaving him only with endless confusion and emptiness.

Before he went to work today, his boss called him into his office alone. On the surface, it was a compliment, but the implication was that as long as he was willing to give up his achievements, his path to promotion would be smooth.

"Tch, what kind of justice is this? It's nothing but a fig leaf to cover up corruption."

He stopped, a bitter smile on his face, unsure whether he was angrily criticizing the system or mocking himself.

Ba——

Suddenly, a sharp horn blared through the air. A fully loaded truck, like an out-of-control beast, sped towards them from the right! The indicator lights in the background flashed blood-red, as if foreshadowing the impending disaster.

It's too late to run away now!

At that critical moment, a powerful force suddenly hooked the back of his neck, pulling him to the ground. The acrid smell of burning tires screeching against the ground instantly filled the air, making one want to vomit.

The truck driver leaned out, glanced at him impatiently, and shouted, "Hey! You stinking cop, are you out of your mind?!"

Kuroda Hyōe sat on the cold ground, his heart pounding like a drum. At that moment, he truly felt the fragility and preciousness of life.

A gentle, teasing voice rang in my ears: "Detective, please be careful while you're on patrol."

She was a mysterious and enigmatic woman.

Her eyes were deep and dark, like the brightest black pearls in the night sky, beautiful yet reserved, seemingly capable of encompassing everything in the world, while also revealing an indescribable wisdom. She possessed the typical Japanese beauty often seen in ukiyo-e prints, but lacked that traditional fragility, possessing instead a greater sense of independence and resilience. Her leather jacket and trousers accentuated her graceful figure, an outfit that seemed exceptionally bold and flamboyant in that conservative era.

Her jet-black hair, reaching her shoulders, was casually draped over her shoulders, like a bird ready to soar into the sky at any moment; every strand seemed to speak of unbridled freedom.

"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

Kuromon Haruya, using the alias Kuromon Miwa, stroked her disguise and gave him a soft, glaring look.

"No no no, nothing!"

Kuroda Hyōe immediately stood at attention and bowed 90 degrees to thank it: "I was thinking about the case just now and didn't notice my surroundings at all. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't even have the chance to lie in this hospital bed!"

Perhaps because he had just escaped death, his usually calm and collected mind had inexplicably lost its rhythm and was swaying erratically. Kuroda Hyōe could even hear the rapid thumping in his ears.

"Miss, please give me a chance to repay your life-saving grace! If you don't mind, let me treat you to a meal..."

Before he could finish speaking, the woman opposite him picked up her shopping bag and shook it—it contained eggs, milk, broccoli, bread, and other items; the quantity of groceries was clearly not intended for just one person.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone firm: "Sorry, my picky son is still at home waiting for his mother to come back and cook dinner."

Son.

A deep sense of loss welled up inside Kuroda, leaving him feeling inexplicably empty.

His gaze involuntarily fell on the ingredients, then he looked up, a hint of determination in his eyes: "Then, at least let me help you carry your things and escort you home."

She shops around here, so her residence shouldn't be too far away. Helping her during patrols shouldn't be a problem.

Yoruichi Kuromon's smile faltered slightly as he suddenly realized that respecting the fate of others wasn't so bad.

He was just buying some groceries on his way back from the Party branch, never expecting to encounter such a situation. Just as he stepped out of the supermarket, he saw this police officer absentmindedly jaywalking, seemingly trying his luck!

In this situation, if a police officer dies in a motor vehicle accident in front of him, there will be absolutely no time to cook dinner after he finishes giving his statement.

Glancing at the motorcycle in the distance, Kuromon Haruya clapped his hands, thinking of a compromise: "However, there is indeed something I need your help with."

He pointed to a motorcycle parked on the side of the street not far away, with a parking ticket waving on it.

"Actually, I think I misread the parking time of the motorcycle. Could you please let this ticket go?"

"this…"

After being rejected time and again, Kuroda Hyōe finally had a chance to repay his debt of gratitude, but upon hearing this request, he couldn't help but feel conflicted.

“Just kidding~” Kuromon Haruya broke the awkward silence with a light laugh. His fingers deftly peeled off the ticket, and while leaning against the car, he neatly signed his name. At the same time, he took a small bag out of his shopping bag and handed it to Kuroda Heibei.

Kuroda Hyōe instinctively caught it and found it was a plum rice ball. A hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes; according to regulations during duty, patrol officers were not allowed to eat or drink at will.

Seemingly sensing his concerns, Kuromon Haruya handed over the ticket and a few coins, a gentle smile playing on his lips:

“Following the rules is certainly important, but the police shouldn’t be so rigid as to let a hero go hungry! I can hear your stomach growling.”

Clutching his stomach, Kuroda Hyōe realized he had missed lunch because of his bad mood. He took the chocolate with an embarrassed smile and said, "You're too kind. I'm really sorry."

"Consider this my small token of gratitude for your efforts in protecting peace."

Kuromon Haruya hopped on his motorcycle and subtly distracted himself with inspirational quotes.

He started his motorcycle, adjusting his helmet as he continued, "It is because of officers like you who uphold justice and are willing to sacrifice time, energy, and even lives to protect everyone that we ordinary people can enjoy a peaceful and stable life."

His voice was firm yet warm: "Keep it up, officer! I'll always support you!"

A determined glint flashed in Kuroda Hyōe's eyes as he replied, "I will certainly live up to your expectations!"

As the engine started, Kuroda Hei watched her departing figure, clutching the rice ball in his hand, a warm feeling welled up in his heart.

"Oh no, I forgot to ask her name!"

Kuroda Hyōe stared at the fine payment slip in his hand. The name "Kuromon Miwa" on it stirred something within him, and he murmured to himself, "She truly lives up to her name; beautiful and kind, she's practically an angel."

The name echoed softly in Kuroda Hei's lips, as if possessing some kind of magic, making him feel especially warm about the encounter that night. He secretly resolved that if he had the chance, he would personally express his gratitude to this "Kuromon Miwa".

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a sneeze rang out in the night sky.

Heimen Yaoye rubbed his nose and glanced back warily: "It must be those cops trying to cause trouble again. Luckily, I managed to slip away."

Once he confirmed that no police cars were following him, he immediately turned the throttle to the maximum, and the motorcycle shot off like an arrow, quickly disappearing into the end of the street.