Chapter 66: Sent Flying
Natsume watched out of the corner of her eye as Teacher Jodie executed a flawless, seemingly accidental trip. In the brief chaos of the robber stumbling, the blonde teacher's fingers flicked over the firearm, quietly engaging the safety switch.
Natsume suppressed a sigh. The sheer lack of professionalism from these hijackers was starting to become insulting. Who holds a bus hostage without even checking their own weapon's firing mechanism?
Up at the front, the lead hijacker barked into his phone, relaying demands to the bus terminal dispatch. His terms were crude and straightforward: the immediate release of Kunio Yajima, the ringleader behind a recent high-profile jewelry heist. If the police failed to comply, one passenger would receive a bullet to the head every hour. He snapped the phone shut, declaring he would call back in twenty minutes.
Waiting twenty minutes was entirely out of the question. Natsume calculated the angles. Taking down three armed men simultaneously without civilian casualties required precision. More, she needed to relay the identity of the hidden accomplice to Conan so he could use his tranquilizer watch. Unfortunately, her lack of knowledge in Morse code presented a frustrating barrier. How was she supposed to signal the little detective without alerting the gunmen?
A sudden shift in movement broke her train of thought.
One of the hijackers broke away from the front, his heavy boots thudding against the rubber floor mats. He marched straight down the aisle, brushing past Natsume's shoulder, and loomed over the seat directly behind her. Conan's seat.
The boy had been attempting a covert call to Inspector Megure using his Earring-type Phone, whispering the bus's coordinates and situation. He hadn't been quiet enough.
A rough, calloused hand clamped down on the back of Conan's collar. The hijacker hoisted the boy into the air, spitting a string of furious curses. With a vicious sneer, the man hurled the child toward the hard floor of the aisle.
He never made impact.
Natsume's reflexes flared. She lunged from her seat, her arms snapping out to catch the boy mid-air, absorbing the momentum with practiced ease. Shielding Conan with her body, she used the split-second distraction to lean down. Her lips barely moved as she breathed the intelligence directly into his ear.
"The woman chewing gum in the back row is the accomplice. The bomb is in the ski bag."
She set him down gently. The miniature detective might have a habit of rushing into danger, but his tactical brilliance was absolute. Give him the pieces, and he would solve the puzzle.
Conan, having fully braced himself for a painful crash, let out a shaky exhale as Natsume's arms secured him. The relief instantly morphed into wide-eyed shock at her whispered words. He stared up at her. Over the course of their shared misadventures, he had developed a deep respect for her capabilities. She possessed an uncanny knack for unraveling mysteries, often identifying the culprit before he even found the physical evidence. Her methods defied all conventional logic, bordering on the supernatural, but her results were absolute.
He had no idea how she had deduced the accomplice's identity or the bomb's location without moving from her seat. It did not matter. Natsume never bluffed about life-or-death matters. If she said it, it was a verified fact.
A few seats away, a pair of sharp eyes tracked the entire exchange. Vermouth, perfectly disguised beneath the mild-mannered features of Dr. Araide, narrowed her gaze at the subtle interaction between the young woman and the boy.
During her recent infiltration of Teitan Elementary School under the guise of conducting physical examinations, she had secured Conan's medical data. The results had all but confirmed her suspicions: Edogawa Conan was the shrunken form of the missing high school detective, Kudo Shinichi. When the hijacker had tossed the boy, a spike of genuine alarm had pierced her calm facade. Yet, calculating that the fall would not be fatal, she had forced herself to remain seated. Moving to protect him would have exposed her unnatural attachment to the child, especially with the FBI agent, Jodie, sitting far too close for comfort.
Now, watching Natsume's fiercely protective stance over the boy, a new variable entered Vermouth's mental chessboard. Natsume was closely tied to Cointreau. Did this mysterious girl also know Conan's true identity? And if she did, did Cointreau—who monitored Natsume's every move—share that dangerous knowledge?
The implications were staggering. She would need to arrange a proper test to gauge exactly how much Natsume knew.
"What is wrong with you?" Natsume's voice sliced through the tense silence of the bus, sharp and commanding. "He is just a child!"
Having ensured Conan was steady on his feet and fully aware of the plan, she pivoted to face the hijacker. Her golden eyes locked onto the man, radiating a cold, heavy pressure.
The thug flinched. For a fraction of a second, the sheer weight of her glare forced him to take an involuntary step back. Humiliation quickly flushed his face, twisting his features into an ugly snarl. He leveled his handgun directly at Natsume's chest. "Do you have a death wish, bitch? Sit down and shut up, or I'll blow a hole right through you!"
"Do it." Natsume did not retreat. Instead, she closed the distance in two smooth strides, stopping only when the cold steel of the barrel pressed directly against her sternum. "Pull the trigger if you have the guts."
'Seriously,'she thought, maintaining her icy glare.'Has this idiot really not realized his safety is still engaged?'
"Natsume..."
"Sister Natsume!"
Frantic, hushed whispers erupted from the surrounding seats. Professor Agasa and the Detective Boys watched in absolute horror, completely unaware of the sabotaged weapon. They pleaded with her under their breath, terrified her impulsiveness was about to get her killed.
The commotion drew the attention of the second hijacker patrolling the middle of the aisle. Gripping his own weapon—one that was fully operational—he began marching toward the back to back up his partner.
Natsume tracked his approach through her peripheral vision. Her right hand rested casually inside her jacket pocket. Channeling a fraction of her power, the Geo element pulsed warmly against her palm, condensing ambient energy into a dense, jagged stone. As the second gunman closed into range, her hand whipped out of her pocket. She flicked her wrist, sending the Geo-infused projectile tearing through the air like a bullet.
It struck the approaching hijacker square in the forehead. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor with a heavy, lifeless thud.
The man holding Natsume at gunpoint jerked in shock at the sound of his partner hitting the deck. Panic overriding his brain, he jammed his finger against the trigger, fully intending to gun her down.
The trigger refused to budge.
He stared at the weapon in blank confusion. That momentary freeze was all Natsume needed. She pivoted on her heel, driving her leg upward in a devastating front kick. Her boot planted squarely into the center of his abdomen.
The impact sounded like a cracking whip. The passengers watched in stunned silence as the grown man was launched backward. He flew entirely down the center aisle, soaring from the back rows all the way to the front, before crashing violently against the partition behind the driver's seat. He crumpled into a heap, groaning weakly, his eyes glazed over in sheer shock.
'Oops,'Natsume winced internally, slowly lowering her leg. Seeing him actually try to pull the trigger had triggered her combat instincts, and she had forgotten to dial back her Teyvat-honed strength.'Well, I avoided his vital organs. He will probably just be eating through a straw for a few weeks. No big deal.'
While the entire bus was captivated by the spectacle of a flying hijacker, Conan made his move. The gum-chewing woman in the back row had stood up, her attention entirely fixed on her defeated comrades. Conan flipped open the cover of his Watch-type Tranquilizer Needle, took careful aim, and fired. The tiny dart embedded itself in her neck. She swayed on her feet before slumping harmlessly back into her seat, dead to the world.
Lowering his wrist, Conan turned his head just in time to witness the tail end of Natsume's kick and the hijacker's majestic flight across the bus. His mouth gave a violent twitch.
'Sister Natsume's combat power is as terrifying as ever,'he thought, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.'I actually feel a little sorry for these guys.'
Natsume glanced toward the back, noting the slumped form of the accomplice. The threat was neutralized. The hijacking was officially over.
She offered Conan a small, approving nod. Their teamwork was becoming incredibly efficient. It made sense; surviving this many bizarre murder cases and hostage situations together was bound to build some solid rapport.
Stepping over the groaning man in the aisle, Natsume retrieved her fallen bag. She pulled out her phone and dialed Inspector Megure. She kept the report brief and clinical: the hijackers were incapacitated, the hostages were safe, but there was an active explosive device hidden inside a ski bag. She strongly advised him to bring the bomb disposal unit.
The terrified bus driver, finally realizing his captors were unconscious, slammed his foot on the brake. The vehicle lurched to a halt on the side of the road. The doors hissed open, and the shaken passengers began flooding out, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the bomb as possible.
Refusing to leave anything to chance, Natsume walked to the very back of the bus. She carefully pried the digital watch—the remote detonator for the explosives—from the unconscious accomplice's wrist, slipping it securely into her own pocket.
As she turned to exit, a small figure caught her eye. The rest of the children had already scrambled outside, but Haibara remained frozen in her seat. The little girl was curled in on herself, her shoulders shaking violently as a deep, suffocating terror gripped her. The lingering aura of the Black Organization was still suffocating her.
Natsume let out a soft, quiet sigh. She stepped forward, leaning over the seats, and gently scooped the trembling girl into her arms. Without a word, she pressed Haibara's head against the crook of her shoulder, using her jacket to completely shield the girl's face from view.
She knew she lacked the right words to pierce through that specific kind of trauma. Offering empty platitudes would do no good. Some reassurances were better left for Conan to deliver. For now, she could only offer physical safety.
Haibara stiffened in shock as she was lifted into the air. Before her panic could spike, she felt her face being tucked away into the warm fabric of Natsume's coat. Realizing the older girl was deliberately hiding her from the terrifying presence she had sensed earlier, the tension in her small limbs broke. She did not struggle.
Instead, Haibara's tiny fingers reached out, gripping the fabric of Natsume's shirt with desperate strength. The steady heartbeat against her ear and the solid, protective warmth radiating from the older girl acted like an anchor. The paralyzing dread of the Organization slowly began to recede, replaced by a quiet sense of security.
Outside in the chilly air, Mitsuhiko, Ayumi, and Genta had just realized their friend was missing. They were on the verge of charging back onto the bomb-rigged vehicle when Natsume stepped down from the doors, carrying the quiet girl. The children immediately swarmed them, their voices overlapping in a chorus of anxious questions about Haibara's well-being.
Peeking out from the safety of Natsume's shoulder, Haibara looked down at the genuine, unadulterated worry shining in the children's eyes. A strange, warm ache bloomed in her chest.
'No matter what happens,'she vowed silently,'I cannot let the darkness of my past touch them.'
Adjusting her hold on Haibara, Natsume guided the flock of children away from the danger zone. She spotted Officer Sato's unmarked car, which had been tailing the hijacked bus, pulling up to the scene. Natsume approached the detective, requesting that the police escort the traumatized kids back home immediately. She offered to stay behind and handle the official statements on their behalf.
Sato, taking one look at the exhausted children, readily agreed. Conan, however, immediately began protesting. He wanted to stay, investigate the scene, and interrogate the hijackers. His protests were swiftly silenced as Natsume grabbed him by the collar and unceremoniously stuffed him into the back seat of the police cruiser.
'Honestly,'Natsume thought, shutting the car door firmly behind him.'What is the point of a child being so nosy? Comforting your traumatized friend is the real priority right now.'
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