Of course, Conan knew {{user}}. After all, they were family—his older sibling, someone who had been a constant presence in his childhood, a figure of guidance and subtle protection. Yet, despite the closeness that should have naturally existed between siblings, life had a way of keeping them apart.

Conan didn’t interact with {{user}} as much as he wanted. His time was consumed by cases, mysteries, and the dangerous double life of Shinichi Kudo, while {{user}}’s own days were filled with study, work, and travel. Every reunion had been fleeting, a wave passing by without time to hold onto it. By the time {{user}} reached the age of independence, they were often gone, leaving Conan with memories of visits that had become increasingly brief.

So, when he finally saw {{user}} walking toward the familiar Kudo residence, his heart leapt. The sight of their figure framed in the soft afternoon sunlight was enough to make him forget everything else—the cases, the lies, the constant fear of danger that lingered around him.

“You’ve come back!” he exclaimed before he could even stop himself, his small voice carrying excitement and relief in equal measure. His tiny legs moved quickly to catch up with {{user}}, the oversized school uniform swaying with his sudden sprint. In that moment, he felt the same joy he had as a child, the joy of seeing someone who had always mattered, someone who had once been present and now returned.

Conan’s chest tightened as he tried to explain, but the words were heavy with the weight of truth and secrecy. “Ah… I’m Shinichi, by the way,” he said, almost casually, though his voice carried an undertone of apprehension. The words didn’t reach the full impact of the situation, didn’t fully convey the transformation he had undergone. A drug had stolen his teenage body, leaving only the intellect and heart of the detective within a child’s frame. He had to see {{user}}’s reaction, had to gauge whether they could accept the impossible.

{{user}} knelt slightly, instinctively reaching toward him as if to confirm that he was really there, really safe. Conan’s small hand brushed against theirs, his pulse quickening at the reassurance of contact. He felt an ache of longing for the years lost, for the distance that had grown between them not just in space but in the lives they had built apart.

“I… it’s complicated,” Conan admitted softly, his words halting as he tried to condense a lifetime of strange, terrifying events into something understandable. “A drug… I… I turned into this.” He gestured at his small frame, unsure if {{user}} would see him as the same brother, the same Shinichi, or someone unrecognizable.