#saguru has mixed feelings

[phantomposter1412]

Kaito: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside Saguru: Saguru: Kaito, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn... Kaito: Sips coffee from bowl

[dior-elkie]

Matchmaker's Regret (Side Story)

A/N. before we start the story, i just want to inform you that in this story, Shinichi is currently living in Tokyo, and Hakuba and Hattori are living in Kyoto. Also, this is kind of in shinichi’s pov but it has a mix w/ the narrator’s pov so erm. Read Matchmaker's Regret first before reading this !! Well, onto the story !

Shinichi Kudo prided himself on his keen intellect and exceptional deduction skills, traits that had earned him a reputation as a brilliant detective. Despite his success, there was one puzzle he couldn't solve nor erase: his feelings for Hakuba Saguru. From the first time they met, Shinichi had been captivated by Hakuba's sharp mind and composed demeanor. But as their friendship grew, so did Shinichi's realization that his feelings went beyond admiration.

Yet, Shinichi kept his love for Hakuba a secret, convinced he stood no chance. The way Hakuba looked at him, always friendly but never more, solidified his resolve to keep his emotions hidden.

One afternoon, Hakuba called Shinichi, which Shinichi immediately picked up.

“Hello? Hakuba-san? To what do I owe the honor?” Shinichi jokingly said.

'It’s fun to tease him. It’s fun to see his reactions… I want to see him so bad. I miss him….'

“Stop being so formal, Kudo-kun. We’ve known each other for a long time and I know you don’t act like this.” Hakuba bluntly said.

Shinichi laughed and said, “Stop being so serious, Haku-san. Then, what do you need me for?” 'God, I love him.'

“Oh, well. I— you said you’re looking for a date right?” 'Oh? Do I have a chance with him?' Shinichi’s heart suddenly beats fast. The words sparking an irrational hope in his heart. He clung to the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, Hakuba felt the same way.

“Oh? Is this what I think it is? Are you offering yourself as my date? Hm, didn’t think you like me like tha—” Shinichi was cut off because Hakuba sensed the other was smirking, even though he couldn’t see him.

“No. It’s not me. It’s a friend of mine. He’s a detective too.” The words stung, a harsh reminder that Hakuba didn't see him that way. His only hope was gone.

'Oh. So it’s not him. Of course. What did I expect?

Is this the sign? Is this the sign to finally move on?

I have to do this. For my sake. My sake. I won’t cry, I won’t cry. Kudo Shinichi is not someone who would cry over something like this. Or even over anything at all.'

“Alright, I hope you two get along…. Oh wait, I forgot to tell him good luck with you..”

'I have to keep this in for now. I have to answer him like how Kudo Shinichi usually do.'

“Huh?! What do you mean by good luck with me? I am, like, the most kind and responsible person anyone will ever meet.” Shinichi huffed.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Hakuba said as he hung up the phone without giving time for Shinichi to respond.

Shinichi sat back down with his hands on his face.

'I love him so much but I know it’s time. It’s time to let go of these feelings. To let go of him… Surely, I can do that, right?'

~~

When the day arrived, Shinichi felt a mix of anticipation and resignation. He arrived in Kyoto Station. There, he was met by Hakuba walking up to him.

“Hey, Kudo-kun. How are you?” The blonde said as he shook the other’s hand.

“I’m doing great, Haku-san. Especially because you arranged this blind date just for little ol’ me.” Shinichi said as the two of them started walking side by side toward their destination.

“I’m doing this for the both of you, so you can stop being so miserable,” Hakuba said, shaking his head.

After walking and talking about how the *blind date* would go, they finally arrived at the park where they were supposed to meet. Hakuba spotted Hattori sitting on a bench near the fountain. He called out Hattori’s name as he approached him.

Hattori took notice of the voice and stood up. “Oh, you’re finally here, Haku!” He smiled and waved at him. And then he noticed someone behind his friend.

"Shinichi Kudo?" the Osakan asked, extending a hand.

"That's me," Shinichi replied, shaking his hand. "You must be Hattori Heiji."

“I heard so much about you,” Hattori said.

“All good things, I assume?” Shinichi raised his eyebrows as he eyed the two back and forth.

“Hey, who do you think I am?” Hakuba nudged Shinichi as Hattori just laughed.

“Of course, it was all good things.” The Osakan said as he wiped the imaginary tears from his eyes after laughing.

Shinichi smirked, “That’s good.”

Hakuba just rolled his eyes.

“Since you two are getting along so well, I shall leave you to it.” He waved goodbye while walking away.

The two men watched him walk away until he was out of sight.

“Well, shall we go inside?” Shinichi reached his hand out, gesturing for Hattori to hold it.

Because of Shinichi’s actions, Hattori couldn’t help but feel shy. His cheeks flared a tinge of pink.

“Alright.” He said as he held the other’s hand as they walked into the cafe.

From the moment they sat down and began talking, Shinichi felt an immediate connection. Hattori's sharp wit and infectious enthusiasm were a breath of fresh air. They bonded over their shared love of mysteries and their mutual experiences as detectives. By the end of the date, Shinichi felt a spark of hope, believing he could indeed move on from Hakuba.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. And suddenly, a year has passed. Shinichi found himself growing closer to Hattori. Their relationship blossomed, evolving from friendship into something deeper. Shinichi marveled at how effortlessly they complemented each other, finding joy and comfort in their companionship.

Hattori found himself liking Shinichi. He liked the way Shinichi’s eyes lit up when he solved a particularly challenging case, the way his mind worked like a finely tuned machine, and the rare moments when his serious demeanor gave way to a warm, genuine smile. It was in these moments that Hattori felt his heart skip a beat, a feeling that had grown stronger over the past year.

He’s come to the point where he wants Shinichi to be officially his. After spending so many unofficial dates, he would like to have a real date with him. He has decided to confess his feelings to Shinichi, hoping he would reciprocate his feelings.

One evening, Hattori decided to take Shinichi to the park where they first met. The moon was bright, casting a glow over the park and making the fountain's water shimmer. The park was a cherished place for both of them, filled with memories of their growing friendship and budding *romance*.

Hattori chose a bench near the fountain, the very one where he had first seen Shinichi a year ago. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he composed himself with a deep breath.

“Shinichi, do you remember the first time we met here?” Hattori began, his voice slightly wavering.

Shinichi smiled, looking around. “Of course, how could I forget? It feels like it was just yesterday.”

Hattori nodded, feeling a surge of warmth at Shinichi’s response. “A lot has changed since then, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has,” Shinichi agreed, his eyes meeting Hattori’s.

“We changed too. We’re much closer than before.” Hattori said as he held both of Shinichi’s hands. “I never knew that I’d be this fond of someone. Our times together were so good and you treated me with kindness and respect with a side of you teasing me every chance you could get. Honestly—”

Shinichi interrupted him with a chuckle and squeezed his hands.

Upon noticing, Hattori looked at Shinichi, confused. “What?”

“Shut up and just tell me you like me already.”

“You knew?”

“Of course, I’d catch on. I’m a detective, remember? Also, you were so obvious.”

“I’m a detective too!” Hattori huffed, obviously sulking.

“If you are a detective, then why couldn’t you figure out my feelings for you?” Shinichi smirked.

Hattori couldn’t say anything. In his mind, he was berating himself, that he was right. Why didn’t he figure that out? Now that he thinks about it, it was so obvious. The way his eyes looked at him, the day he held his hand from the very beginning, Shinichi had liked him from the start.

“I’m so stupid,” Hattori muttered to himself but Shinichi heard it loud and clear.

“Instead of saying you’re stupid, why don’t you ask me out already?”

With those words, Hattori couldn’t wait any longer. He gathered his courage and said those words that the other had been waiting for.

“I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Of course.” Shinichi smiled. He gently caresses his cheeks, and with their eyes locked together Shinichi then leans in for a kiss. Slightly surprised but Hattori soon kissed him back

'This is it. This is what I wanted. I’m glad I met the love of my life, my Heiji. I don’t regret anything at all. I’m happy now. Thank you, Hakuba.'

Alright, thank you for reading ! - the italic sentences with apostrophes are shinichi's thoughts. - i wil not make a pov of hattori -im requiring (/hj) the readers to read the hashtags, thanks - co-writer: @kiremrem - if you see a grammar or spelling mistake, then, just know that we did this at 3 in the morning.

[orcinus-the-orca]

[DCMK SS] Another inquiry for you! Could you please share some of your headcanons for Kaito/other DCMK characters you enjoy? Things you might like to see integrated into a fic written for you (no promises that I WILL integrate them, but I'm still heavily in the idea generation stage).

Mmmm, head canons, let’s see. Most of mine are garnered from the fandom, and it’s to the point that I don’t have an original one, but I do have quite a few!!

In terms of bigger ones:

High-key, I’m one of those who loves AroAce Kaito. I can’t really explain it, only that it feels right. Wish I had a way to explain better, haha.

I also strongly head canon that he has Inattentive-Type ADHD. The former because it feels right, like it fits him, and the latter is sort of the fault of projection. I have Mixed-Type ADHD, and a lot of what I see him do (such as doing other activities in class, whether that be thinking to himself or reading a newspaper, to getting easily bored and moving on to a different subject/not really paying attention to people) I find myself associating with a lot I do. I see where people can see the Hyperactivity-Type, but it feels more deliberate than an actual compulsion he has no control over.

I like to head canon that Kaito would oversleep and miss classes if it weren’t for Aoko. Sometimes she’ll just break into his house and wake him up so he won’t be late.

Kaito’s incredibly introverted and his only admitted friend is Aoko. Like, sure, there’s Saguru and Akako, but he seems to have very little interactions with any other students and is more content to sit by himself. He has to be adopted rather than being the one who is adopting (I know the manga kinda disproves this, but seeing as he doesn’t have any prevalently named friends I pretend I do not see)

However, I am also a fan of “Knows no boundaries” Kaito who is not afraid to get close to others physically. Yes, I have read many fluff fics–

Also, sort of based on canon, but I like to think Kaito doesn’t open himself up to others because he just doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of a relationship that might be taken away. Uses masks to make everyone think he’s okay, but never really opening himself up.

Kaito is not a morning person. His job aside, he seems to be the type who would get distracted and then not go to bed until later at night. Hence, he ends up oversleeping.

Aoko will often come into his house just to hang out. She rarely asks permission, just walks on in, plops on the couch, and starts movie-watching. Kaito’s had to start making excuses as to why he won’t be home because she ends up coming over a lot when her dad is working and she isn’t hanging out with friends.

While I think making it explicitly supernatural saps a little bit of the fun out of it, I do love Kaito being incredibly lucky and then Shinichi/Conan being incredibly unlucky. Just the idea that Kaito is surviving because luck as an entity is keeping him alive? The fact that Shinichi will never be out of work because said entity hates him, I guess? Beautiful.

And then there are a few smaller ones such as:

Saguru boxes (because if Shinichi is willing to play soccer to stay fit like Holmes, why wouldn’t the #1 fanboy himself do it, too?). It’s also a sport often seen associated with Europe, and I think the Ekoda gang needs a martial artist (even if it isn’t technically considered martial arts).

Shinichi and Mitsuhiko are autistic, because no child hyperfixates like that and is neurotypical.

Vermouth knows about Kaito and Chikage but wards any dangers away from them out of respect for Toichi. Whether or not that’s obeyed, however…

Chikage left Japan because without Toichi she didn’t feel comfortable sitting around and possibly being labeled as a target due to her past as Phantom Lady. Why she left Kaito? Now that, I’ve yet to figure out…

Chikage and Yukiko will sometimes hang out in person and get coffee together (bonus: they talk about their respective sons, but they’re super cryptic about what their sons are actually up to).

I’ve posted it before, but I love the idea of Saguru being the oldest, followed by Shinichi, then Kaito, and then Heiji being the youngest of the boys.

Those are the ones that come to mind! I hope some of them you might be able to use, or maybe even inspire you! While we’re here, what are some of yours? I do love seeing some of the head canons offered by the fandom and I’d be interested in the one you might have, also.

Thank you for the question and take care!!

[mrs-tsunderemeitantei]

According to your theory on Bourbon and Haibara, I find it weird that Bourbon doesn't know anything about the past of Ai when she was in BO, don't forget that he was in BO long time ago, while Sherry at that time is still a kid and in USA for study at least. It is strange to me if he didn't investigate about her thoroughly at that time while on his mission. However, when they meet sooner or later, she will despise him even more when she discover that he is from PSB, and had intention to use her.

Heyy! Tbh, I don't think he was in the organisation any longer than she has. If we ignore the fact the she was born into the syndicate, I’d say they technically joined around the same time. He probably joined 5 years ago around the same time when Akai also joined. At the time, Shiho was 13 when she started working on the research and became Sherry. 

As for him not investigating her thoroughly, I believe he just didn’t have enough outlets to help him investigate her. Yes he knows she is Elena’s daughter and that’s not surprising. The BO has a database of all its members listing all their information. When Haibara first met Conan and they went to retrieve the disk that got mixed up in Akemi's holiday pictures, Conan got excited when Haibara told him the disk did not just have the drug's data, but also sensitive information about some BO members.

Another instant is when Gin told Pisco he can look up Shiho's data on the organisation's computer when they suspected she was going to Haido City Hotel. So I'm pretty sure Bourbon would have easily accessed the same database for his mission to capture her as per the organisation's demands.

By that logic, he’d have looked her up in the database to know what she looked like, her family, where she lived, etc. Butttt I don’t think he knew any more than that. Why? Well, I have a bunch of reasons why I think so, and it might get confusing but please bear with me 😂:

1. While in the organisation and after her escape, Shiho herself did not know anything about her family except for what she was told by the organisation, so how would Bourbon know anymore than her? It wasn't until she visited her father's childhood house and got the tapes that Akemi left for her when she learnt the truth about her family's past.

2. There aren’t a lot of people for him to provide him with information about Shiho (except maybe Gin and Vermouth). By nature, Shiho is reserved and was more of a loner (her sister was the only person she was close to). She barely interacted with anyone outside her department and when it comes to her lab-mates, I highly doubt they knew the pressures her parents endured before joining the syndicate.

3. When it comes to Gin and Shiho, we don’t know yet the extent of their relationship. And let’s assume they were romantically involved. I don’t think he’d know about her family’s past because she herself was oblivious to her parents’ past and Gin is not that good at remembering people who died anyway. And regardless, Gin and Bourbon don’t like each other. Gin even said he neither keeps tabs on Bourbon, nor does he like to share information with him. Also, since Shiho kept to herself in the organisation, it’s unlikely other members (including Bourbon) knew of her possible relationship with Gin. 

4. As for Vermouth, she seems to know the most about Shiho because of her mysterious link to the research and blatant hatred for Shiho and her parents. Now, there are two possible scenarios:

Vermouth knew the Miyanos' history before joining. She may have been kept in the loop to help with pressuring them so they could join. I'm basing this on her history with emotionally manipulating and tormenting people into doing things for the organisation (Itakura Saguru and the murderer who killed Fukuura Senzou in the off-season halloween party case are prime examples).

Eventually she clashed with them when they joined the organisation just like she clashed with Itakura Saguru later on.

The second (less likely situatuon imo), is she was unaware the organisation bullied them. She probably thought they willingly joined when they shouldn’t have, and she hates them because of their research.  

So, if Bourbon learnt from Vermouth that Shiho’s parents were forced to join the organisation, why was he still willing to hand Shiho back to the organisation? (I mean I don’t want to believe he’d stoop that low. Even if he had a plan to get her out later, I don’t think he’d risk exposing himself after handing her knowing she’ll only be killed or forced to complete the drug). And if the second scenario was true, it would explain why why he wanted to return Shiho to the organisation. But I don't think she told Bourbon anything and I'll explain why in a bit.

Based on all that, my theory is this: Vermouth played a part in getting Shiho’s parents to join the organisation. Later on, things didn’t go according to plan with the research so she began feeling animosity towards them. She never shared any of that with Bourbon because she didn’t want to risk him finding out about the drug’s de-ageing effects (he definitely doesn’t know otherwise he would have figured out Conan and Haibara's identities). And because he doesn't know the truth about her parents, he didn’t feel guilty about handing Shiho back to the organisation. 

5. Finally, when we look at Haibara talking about the White Dove pharmaceuticals, she suddenly became so knowledgeable about her parents' history when initially she knew nothing. She revealed all this information AFTER she got the tapes. That’s why I’m convinced it was Elena’s tapes that got her to know everything. Haibara probably also lied when she said it was her sister who told her. It is less likely for that to be the case because Akemi wouldn’t have been born to know what happened 30 or 25 years ago. And even if Elena spoke a little to Akemi about what happened, Akemi would have still been too young to understand. The only thing Akemi knew was the drug her parents were making was supposed to be a Silver Bullet of Justice.

So in conclusion, I feel the strongest pieces of evidence to prove Shiho and her parents were forced into that life would be the tapes and Vermouth. Rei never had access to the tapes nor does he know they exist. I’m guessing if he gets his hands on those tapes, they’d be a valuable lead that can help him link Vermouth to the Miyanos and somehow confirm everything.

I know this was reallly long and probably exhausting to read but I hope it made sense.

And yes, she will definitely despise Rei and she has every right to. Not just because he is PSB who planned on using her as a pawn, but  because of his relationship to her mother. I have a gut feeling Elena even mentioned him in her tapes (it is very likely since she too loved Rei) and once Shiho realises the boy from the tapes and Rei are the same person, it will leave her feeling gutted.

Again these are all just my theories and I could be very wrong but I can’t wait for everything to be revealed 🙌🏻

[kaitoukye]

My DCMK Stories/Series

(Those that aren’t outright abandoned/or not something I like promoting that is)

Chicken Time

Stuck inside due to social distancing rules, at least Kaito and Saguru can message each other. The SaguKai pandemic texting fic. 

Type: “Story”

Status: Complete at 32 mini chapters,  8444 words.

Rating(s): T, mostly for swearing and a bit of suggestive content but that is mostly kept to a minimum

Pairings: Heavily SaguKai, with minor hints of ShinRan and HeiShin. 

Notes: A decent into madness as the pandemic starts picking at their braincells. Both share a single braincell by the end. Bonus story:  Social Distancing Is No Joke

King Of Bones AU

Back in the late nineties, a boy and his parents went missing without a trace and nobody had seen them in the decades since. Saguru grew up hearing only brief mentions of his missing cousin, but it wasn't until after finishing high school and with a promising career ahead of him that his brother begged him to find the family.

Saguru brought along his four friends to their last known location in an attempt to find a lead to their disappearance. Only Keiko left the house alive.

After the takedown of the organization, Shinichi and Heiji founded their own detective agency. When they are approached by a distraught Keiko as a last resort two years after her friends' deaths, their skills as detectives are put to the test. Her case leads them to a house full of the illogical and unreasonable. Of magic and curses.In searching for the true fates of Saguru, Kaito, Aoko, and Akako, they find no monster is more terrifying than a monster that was once a human, yet is now only a snarling beast out for blood.

Type: Series

Status: In progress. First story complete at 10 chapters,  15,569 words but pending a rewrite.

Rating(s): G, T, and M, with a heavy leaning towards M for the story as a whole 

Pairings: SaguKai, Heiji/Shinichi/Keiko, Snake/Falcon(OC)

 Notes: Earns its M rating, contains many uncomfortable scenes and all tags should be read before reading.

Naming Games

With his former classmate now secretly living with him after a heist gone wrong and a new decrease in age, a new name was needed for him. But Kaito is getting really tired of being the only one making an effort to choose it.

Type: One-shot. 

Status: Complete.

Rating(s): G

Pairings: None, but some decent Saguru and Kaito friendship. 

Notes: A repost and light edit of a fic from 2016. 

Stockholmes AU

Kaito’s life takes a turn for the worse years after taking down two criminal organizations. Taken hostage by a killer who seems to be far too familiar with him, he finds himself caught up in a conspiracy that spans decades. One that leads to him becoming Kaitou KID once again, only this time fighting with the power of Pandora instead of against it. Saguru meanwhile has been fighting off his morals and his very perception of the world as a killer for hire. Even becoming what he once hunted for pure curiosity's sake, he'll still fight against those worse than him without a second doubt.

But with a crisis of feelings and the animosity of the past causing them to lash out at each other in cruel and unusual ways, it's a long road before either is able to work with the other without strife.

Type: Series

Status: ????

Rating(s): M. 

Pairings: SaguKai, but in a bitter exes way, and Heiji/Aoko.

Notes: This is a complicated fic. One moment they’ll be down to fuck, another moment they’ll be going through intense trauma. This is a very dirty fic without ever crossing the line into E. Tags should also be read as there is some triggering content mixed in among the completely bizarre humor of the series.  

Family Or Faith

If Aoko hadn’t commented on his eyes, Saguru would have never gotten the DNA test. Now knowing he’s not actually a Hakuba, confronting his possible biological father is not a task he looks forward to, but he knows it has to be done.

Type: Series

Status: Just one story so far.

Rating(s): T for implied sexual content. 

Pairings: Pre-SaguKai

Notes: The fic that started as a joke on how Saguru looked nothing like his alleged father and Nakamori could be his dad for all we knew, and now its a personal headcanon. 

Worst In Me and Play With Fire

Two people were holding onto the Pandora gem when the comet passed and with immortality comes consequences and changes to the very soul.

Type: Two one-shots.

Status: Unknown

Rating(s): T for implied murder and violence. 

Pairings: SaguKai

Notes: ‘Be Gay Do Crimes’ SaguKai edition. 

Just Like Batman

Kaito accidentally becomes a Batman-like hero, complete with his own mismatched found family and a tragic rival in someone who could have been a friend. 

Type: Series

Status: In Progress. 

Rating(s): T for some violence. 

Pairings: None at the moment. 

Notes: Exactly what it says on the tin. 

A Game Of Cat And Thief

Nakamori is tired of the freelance detectives at heists. Tom just saw the high paycheck and a paid vacation, and had no idea what he was walking into. Jerry meanwhile intends only to bring chaos and violate his house arrest.

Type: Story 

Status: In progress

Rating(s): T for some violence. 

Pairings: None aside from minor Tom/Jerry.

Notes: The Human Tom and Jerry and DCMK crossover nobody asked for.

History Repeats and If Today Was Your Last Day

The classic story of a teenager finding out their late father was an international thief and taking on the identity of Kaitou KID to find their father’s killers.

This wasn’t supposed to happen twice. 

Now a father himself, Saguru knows that there is no reason for people to fight their parents' wars, and wishes not to arrest the new KID, but show how to properly solve Kaito's death instead.

Type: Muti-chapter story with bonus one-shot. 

Status: In progress

Rating(s): T

Pairings: Saguru/Allie(OC), Heiji/Aoko

Flora

A collection of fics centered around Snake and other members of the organization looking for Pandora, portrayed separate to the Black Organization.

Type: Series

Status: In-progress

Rating(s): T to E

Pairings: Snake/Falcon

Notes: A more self-indulgent, adult series. 

Heartless

Eight years after Kaito's unsolved murder, the world of phantom theives is in a much different state.

It's a now twenty-six year old Saguru behind the mask of Kaitou KID, using crime to track down clues to the death.

Meanwhile, the newest thief on the street, a second Nightmare, is Kenta Connery, sixteen year old orphan with a grudge against KID. They have a more in common goal than they realize at first. Instead pitted against each other, it's a battle of the century between thieves.

As usual when it comes to the current state of his life, Saguru is keen to blame Toichi for this.

Type: Story

Status: In-progress

Rating(s): T 

Pairings: Saguru/Allie. 

Notes: Unrelated to History Repeats despite also killing Kaito. 

[marinsawakening]

When A Watch Gets Stolen

Fandom: Magic Kaito/DCMK

Wordcount: 4503

Summary: Hakuba Saguru has met more police officers than he cared to count, and was liked by... well, none of them. So when his watch gets stolen, the people working with the KID task force become his suspects, and he launches an investigation. Or: Hakuba is autistic and gets his comfort object stolen. He takes this about as well as you'd expect.

Notes: Written for Autism Acceptance Month. Warnings for self-injurous stimming and a violent meltdown.

///

Hakuba was not well-liked among the KID Task Force, a fact that did not bother him in the slightest. Making friends had never been a priority of his, after all; he was here to catch a thief, and whether or not he got along with a bunch of half-witted officers was of no concern to him.

That is, as long as they left him alone.

His watch was missing.

The latest KID heist had ended with Hakuba on the receiving end of a waterfall of glitter-mixed paint - exceedingly immature, even by KID’s standards, a prank more than a magic trick. Though, he supposed he should’ve seen this coming, after he’d told Kuraba, quote: “If KID can’t even dodge a seven-year-old’s soccer ball, there is no possible reality wherein he could get past a police line to get the drop on me,” in an overt attempt to goad him into recklessness. He had succeeded there, at least, even if he’d still ultimately lost the war.

Either way, Nakamori had offered up the office shower to him, and he’d accepted, gladly washing off as much glitter and paint as possible. Sadly, it turned out the paint doubled as a dye - now, his hair was sparkly pink, and would likely remain as such for the foreseeable future.

Perhaps he’d invite Kuroba and Aoko on a fishing trip. One low blow for another.

And then he excited the shower, tugging lightly at his hair in a last futile attempt to get some of the glitter out, only to find his watch gone.

The rest of his belongings were still there; his button-up, blazer, shoes, pants, underwear, coat, all neatly in place. But in the jacket’s left pocket, where he always put his pocket watch, he found only lint.

He took a deep breath. With forced calm, he checked his other pockets, even though he knew he’d never make such a callous mistake as to misplace something. One thing Hakuba was not was sloppy. He liked everything to be in precisely the right place at the right time, neatly ordered and according to schedule. It provided structure and security. He didn’t like it when those things fell away.

And now his watch was stolen.

A quick sweep of the surrounding area provided little clues, aside from the slightly tilted door handle proving that someone had indeed picked the lock and walked in while he was showering. However, that did not narrow the suspect pool down in the slightest. He was in the middle of a police station, specifically working with the task force of a master thief renowned for dirty tricks; the odds of someone in his immediate vicinity knowing how to pick a lock were disproportionately high.

He could probably rule out Inspector Nakamori. While the man was as dim-witted as they come, he had a clear sense of honor and duty not often seen among officers. It was unlikely he’d stoop to the level of petty bullying; if he had a problem with Hakuba, he’d simply yell it at him, as he’d proven time and time again.

That said, it was exceedingly unlikely that he’d side with Hakuba over someone from his own task force. He was not well-liked, and therefore, he’d receive no help.

Not that he needed it. He was Britain’s youngest detective, rivaled in Japan by only a few. If he couldn’t even deduce who’d stolen his watch, he might as well retire to the country side right now.

He could feel the watch’s absence, as absurd and illogical as it was, taunting him from his pocket. Absently, he scratched his wrist, feeling his nails gauge the skin, leaving red gashes in their wake.

The first order of business would have to be narrowing down the suspect pool. He could hardly do a thorough examination everyone’s desks without getting caught, so he’d have to limit his search to those most likely to have committed the crime.

There was a bang on the door, and Hakuba startled.

“Yo, kid! How long you gonna be in there?” Nakamori’s voice called through the door.

How late was it? Out of habit, he almost reached into his pocket, before remembering the current circumstances and aborting the motion. It was hard to breathe, and his nails dug deeper into his arm.

He forced himself to take a deep breath despite the dam in his chest. Calm down.

“I’ll be right out,” he called back, and went to get dressed.

///

Narrowing down suspects proved to be about as difficult as expected, taken into account that a) no-one in the police station was fond of Hakuba, and b) all cops were varying degrees of bastards. But, finally, he managed to land on three key suspects: Hashimoto Takashi, new to the corps and therefore having something to prove; Fujiwara Akane, who had been accused of theft before, although the charges had been dropped; and Yamamoto Ken, who had been smirking at him for the past three days in an extremely smug fashion.

With the primary suspects nailed down, he went to work.

For some reason, people never even so much as considered the possibility that Hakuba might have some dubiously legal skills. People usually perceived him as an overly rigid rule-follower, and while Hakuba acknowledged he had a tendency to be somewhat inflexible, he was not exactly what you’d call a ‘rule-follower’. The law, while necessarily, was often flawed and illogical, and if the rules made it more difficult for him to do his job, he had no qualms ignoring them.

Regardless, his reputation for being a stickler to the rules meant that no-one had bothered to make any precautions against their desk being lock-picked and their phones being hacked. An oversight, of course; if you’re going to commit a crime, at least have the decency of covering it up properly. Especially if your target is a genius detective.

Neither Hashimoto’s nor Fujiwara’s desk contained anything out of the ordinary, and while both of their texts contained copious amounts of complaining about him, that was not a crime and did not in and off itself implicate them in theft.

Yamamoto’s phone, however, contained some very interesting messages indeed. He was in a small groupchat with some other officers, and he’d been making vague remarks about an ‘upcoming show’ and ‘the best prank in ages’ ever since the day Hakuba’s watch had gotten stolen. He backed up those messages to his own phone; it might prove to be important later.

His desk, however, contained no incriminating evidence, let alone the pocket watch. It should not have come as a surprise, and yet, he had to stop himself from breaking the drawer in two.

He had back-up watches, obviously, other models he could use in emergencies. Right now, a nice brown electric watch sat on his wrists. It was perfectly serviceable and of decent quality, and yet, it felt wrong. Too heavy on his wrist, always somehow managing to be in his line of sight, drawing attention to its obnoxious flickering numbers; every time he saw it, it became harder and harder to push away the panic that always threatened to overwhelm him.

He shoved the drawer closed, careful not to make too much noise. Then, he walked away, his hands shoved in his pocket so that no-one could see the way his nails clawed at the palm of his hands.

///

There was another heist that night. Unusually close to the previous one; KID preferred to have more time to plan out his tricks, but it seemed that dyeing Hakuba’s hair hadn’t needed much preparation. So, another heist.

KID was after the Red Haze this time, a 22 carat Burmese ruby. The owner, an old collector named Nakamura, had been most cooperative with the police, thankfully. Hakuba was crammed together with the rest of the task force in the display room, roughly ten minutes before the start of the heist.

He was panicking. He didn’t know why, but he was panicking. It was a struggle to get his breath under control, his fingers itched with the need to move, and when he turned to check the time the sense of wrongness was so profound it strangled him.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Yamamoto whispered. He bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling. He hadn’t noticed him get so close. Sloppy. Unusually sloppy.

He tried to focus on Yamamoto, but everything seemed hazy. He didn’t know how many minutes they had until the start of the heist, and he couldn’t bring himself to check. He needed to focus on Yamamoto. It might be important.

Yamamoto’s next words filtered through like he was underwater. “Guess what I have?”

In his hands was Hakuba’s pocket watch.

It took him one, two, three seconds to process what he was seeing, before he made a grab for it.

He missed. Through the fog, he realized that was strange, and then he remembered Yamamoto was tall; tall enough to keep anything out of Hakuba’s reach. It didn’t stop him from trying to get at it, jumping in an attempt to reach the chain, and that didn’t seem like something he should be doing, there might be laughing from above the water, but it didn’t matter, there was only one thing that mattered and it -

Was broken on the ground, shattered to little pieces.

Yamamoto was grinning, and ugly, smug smile, and the laughing had gotten louder. Hakuba stared at the remains of his watch, and someone was saying something, but the words were absolutely meaningless, he couldn’t understand them, couldn’t process anything except pain and panic and broken gears and a wide smirk -

Something was wrong. Distantly, he recognized this. His throat hurt, open and screaming, the sounds around him too loud, there were lights on now even though they weren’t before, his body was moving on its own, his hands making contact with something and doing it again and again and again, until he was pulled back by other hands, and still he was screaming and screaming and screaming -

A pair of hands pulled him along, and he tried to claw on them but it didn’t seem to be doing anything, the texture of their skin was off, somehow, but he couldn’t place it, and the lights were off now, and there was quiet. The hands let go, and he tried to follow them, because he needed to hit something, to scratch and hurt something, it was the only thing calming him right now, so he turned to himself, scratching and hitting and screaming. The pain felt real, at least.

And slowly, he calmed down.

There was no new input, nothing to exacerbate his current state, just him and his movements and his pain, and so steadily, the panic sunk and his head grew clearer.

It really was quiet. He wasn’t in the display room anymore; instead it was a smaller one, with a large bed in the corner and soft carpet under his hands. Probably Nakamura’s bedroom. Strange. They hadn’t been allowed in here, nor had they any reason to enter, for that matter. He shouldn’t be here. How had he gotten here?

Then he noticed a bright white blur among the darkness and - ah. The heist had started, then. Sadly, Hakuba was in no state to play mind games, and had no energy to arrest anyone, and so, he just sat back against the wall, closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

“You okay?” KID asked, something like worry in his voice. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

Not trusting himself to talk, Hakuba waved a hand. Not the most efficient method of communication, but it would have to do for now. Thankfully, KID seemed to get the message, because he shut up and let Hakuba figure himself out in the calm.

After a precise 300 seconds (he counted), he felt well enough to speak.

“As much as I can be after a meltdown,” he finally replied, proud of himself for not flinching back at the sound of his own voice. “Don’t you have a gem to steal?”

“Already did.” KID flashed the Red Haze between his fingers, and ah, yes, perhaps Hakuba should have suspected that. Not that he was up to doing anything about it. Speaking was enough of a challenge right now. “What was that, detective? You do not strike me as the type to lose control.”

Hakuba rubbed his face with one hand and petted the carpet with the other. It really was soft, and he could use some grounding right now. “A meltdown, in the context of neurodiversity, is a way autistic people react to an overload of stress, sensory input, fear, or other negative emotions. They are uncontrollable and can be quite extreme. I am not the type of ‘lose control’, but my brain does not always cooperate with me.”

KID cocked his head. “You’re autistic.”

“Yes. And I would appreciate not finding that rumor spread through the school tomorrow, Kuroba.”

“I am not this Kuroba person you seem to know, but if I were, I’m sure I’d be offended by the insinuation I’d betray your trust for a cheap laugh.”

“Well, just in case, you should know I have a 20000 word essay on why you likely have ADHD, and I am not afraid to use it.”

“Wait, you have a - Nevermind, I’ll steal it later.” KID waved his hand. “Either way, I’m assuming removing you from the source of the stressor was the right course of action?”

“It was, although I would advice against grabbing people if at all possible.” And then, through gritted teeth and with a near insurmountable loss of pride: “Thank you.”

“Don’t think too hard about it, detective.” KID threw the Red Haze into the air, catching it with nimble fingers before tossing it at Hakuba. “You can have the ruby back.”

“How gracious.”

KID shrugged. “Saves me the trouble of returning it later. And besides, stealing is no fun with your critics incapacitated.”

He gave one of his patented, overly dramatic bows, and with a “Take care, detective,” he was gone, vanishing out a window Hakuba hadn’t even noticed yet.

It was another half hour before he could bring himself to make the trek back to the task force.

///

As expected, there was a talk, afterwards.

Nakamori’s desk was messy, paperwork and candy wrappers strewn indiscriminately across the bureau, the only clean corner containing a picture of him and Aoko. Hakuba also noted another three pictures of her taped to his laptop. It seemed like the kind of thing Aoko might like to know, just to remind her that her father did, indeed, care.

Nakamori himself sat back in his desk, looking tired and annoyed in equal measure, rubbing his temples.

They’d been here for an hour now, Nakamori interrogating him on what happened under the guise of ‘wanting to hear his side of the story’. Hakuba hadn’t bothered to explain anything. It wouldn’t help, anyway.

“You know I can’t let you get away with this, right?” Nakamori asked. “If you refuse to give me any damn explanation, I’m going to have to report this to your father. Probably gonna have to do that anyway.”

Hakuba’s fingers curled around the chair’s arm, but he said nothing.

“Yamamoto might press charges.”

He snorted. As if his father would let that happen. Couldn’t have his precious reputation damaged by a criminal son.

Nakamori glared. “You think this is funny? You broke his fucking jaw, Hakuba.”

“And?”

It was the first thing he’d said all hour, and he wasn’t sure why he’d opened his mouth. His fingers were rasping against the wood, and there was something hot in his chest. Anger, he recognized. He’d been angry for days, perhaps even longer, and he was still too out of it to hold back this long. Great.

Well, if he was on his way out anyway, might as well make it a show.

“And?” Nakamori repeated, incredulous. “Do I need to tell you why you should feel guilty for breaking a man’s jaw? Really?”

“Guilty? I should feel guilty?” And oh yeah, he was angry, hot and boiling and it spilled over into his words. “Yamamoto steals my watch with the express purpose of using it to humiliate and hurt me in front of his friends - if not the entire task force - during a Kaitou KID Heist, and I should feel guilty for retaliating?”

Nakamori blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but Hakuba continued on, bulldozing over his next words. “Am I supposed to feel sorry that his plan had some unforeseen negative consequences? He knew perfectly well that I would not react calmly to him smashing my pocket watch, and this was, in fact, the whole entire reason he decided to do it in the first place, and now I’m supposed to feel sorry that I reacted somewhat stronger than he planned? With all due respect, Inspector Nakamori, fuck off. He reaped exactly what he sowed.”

Nakamori leaned forward, blowing out a deep breath through his nose. “Even if what you say is true, which I highly doubt, considering the fact that I’ve known Yamamoto for years and he has never done anything like that, that isn’t a damn reason to get into a fistfight. You should have come to me -”

“And what? What would you have done?” Hakuba’s hand slammed on the desk, and Nakamori flinched back, startled. “I come to you and say ‘Inspector Nakamori, my watch has been stolen’, and what would you do?”

“I would have launched an investigation -”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Hakuba cut him off. “You would have rolled your eyes and told me that I probably just lost it, that it’s just a watch, that I don’t need to be so melodramatic or make any false accusations. So then I would have decided to do my own investigation, which is exactly what I did anyway, and I would have found evidence that Yamamoto was likely responsible.”

Nakamori opened his mouth, but Hakuba ignored him. “So then I try again, and I come to you with the evidence, but it’s not watertight, so once again, you just roll your eyes. You tell me that you will talk to Yamamoto, after which you call me back into the office to say that Yamamoto denied the accusations and you feel inclined to believe him due to the fact that you’ve ‘known him for years’, and you tell me once again not to make any false accusations.”

He took a deep breath. “And then tonight happens, and it goes the exact same way it did now, and you will tell me that I reacted too strongly and that I will be removed from the case, as you are doing right now.”

Hakuba sat back, and went through the effort of looking Nakamori straight in the eyes. “Tell me, Inspector, exactly what would have changed if I had come to you? Why should I have bothered?”

A silence fell as he stared down Nakamori, the ticking of the clock louder than it ought to be.

Nakamori broke first. “You have evidence?”

“Text messages illegally obtained, not admissible in court,” Hakuba confirmed. “I’ll send them to you, in case you’re interested in maintaining your facade of objectivity.”

Hakuba stood up. “In the meantime, I will be expecting my official dismissal by Friday. I can see myself out.”

And just like that, he walked away.

///

He spent the next day finding ways he could circumvent the task force’s grip on the KID case. Sneaking into heists might be difficult, but it would not be impossible. Probably. Hopefully.

(Hakuba wasn’t that good at disguises, or at least, not at KID’s level, which is what the security around the heists was counting on. He may actually have to ask Kuroba for tips, but that would be an absolute last resort. He did still have a sliver of pride left.)

Either way, he could definitely hack into their database and read their reports, but it wouldn’t be the same. This case had just gotten significantly harder.

At 4AM, he finally fell asleep at his bureau. When he woke up, he found the carefully hidden physical copy of his KID/Kuroba ADHD essay stolen (to be expected and no disaster; he still had numerous digital copies he could print at any moment) and a brand new pocket watch on his pillow. It was silver, with little movable doves decorating the case.

Hakuba spent precisely eleven minutes and fourteen seconds playing with them, and he smiled.

///

By Friday, he did not receive his dismissal, as he had expected. Instead, he received another invitation to talk to Nakamori.

Strange. Perhaps Nakamori wished to deliver the news in person.

Either way, come Monday, he showed up at the task force once more. As he walked to Nakamori’s office, people kept their distance, whispering from the sidelines. Hakuba didn’t care. It wasn’t like he’d have to work with these people again.

He sat in the exact same chair he’d sat last week, and noted, with some perverse pride, that his nails had made little indents in it.

Nakamori was not usually that difficult to read; he wore his heart on his sleeve and was not afraid to speak his mind. That made him easier to deal with than most other people, and although his loud nature grated on Hakuba, it was something he’d always, on some level appreciated.

Today, however, Hakuba couldn’t get a good read on him. He was sitting straight in his chair, unusually professional, and his face was blank. Or, maybe the expression on it was just too subtle for Hakuba to read. That was a distinct possibility too.

Either way, it was unsettling. Hakuba reached into his coat pocket and traced the doves on his new watch.

“So,” Nakamori started. “I called your father.”

Naturally.

“He explained that you’ve gotten into fights with officers before, and basically threatened to end my career if I decided to remove you from the case.”

Hakuba closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Expected, but no less annoying.

“Not that I give a shit about any of that. Not the first time my job has been in peril, and it won’t be the last. I wish them good fucking luck trying to find a replacement for me.”

Hakuba barely managed to hold back a laugh. Nakamori had proven time and time again to be by far the most suited to leading the task force, and KID had proven time and time again he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else. Nakamori was right to be unafraid. His father had no power here.

“But the fact that this apparently wasn’t the first time you snapped and decked a guy did make me curious, so I did a bit of digging.” Hakuba’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Nakamori shot him an irritated glare. “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only detective in the room. There’s a reason I got this job in the first place.”

Hakuba inclined his head, contrite, and Nakamori continued. “Anyway. I did some digging, and found out that this is pretty routine for you. You work with the police, you deck a guy, you get about as fired as a high school detective can get, rinse and repeat. Kind of a weird pattern, considering the massive stick up your ass. Since it seemed out of character for you to just attack someone for no reason, I assume that all instances of that were caused by similar situations as this one?”

“Does it matter?” he scoffed.

“It does, actually.” Nakamori leaned forward on his desk. “You seemed pretty certain I wouldn’t have done a damn thing for you, and to be honest, you were right. I don’t like you. I do like Yamamoto - or I did, at least. It would’ve been way easier for me to just wave you off, so I probably would’ve.”

Hakuba sat back, blinking. Well. At least he admitted it.

“And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened with the others, too.”

Nakamori looked at him, and a beat too late, Hakuba realized he was expected to answer. He nodded. “Yes, although I fail to see how this is relevant.”

Nakamori rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s relevant because it explains why you didn’t come to me in the first place, and it’s relevant because it shows that this situation is as much my fault as it is yours.”

Hakuba’s hand slid off the watch, the doves’ cool metal replaced by cotton under his fingers. “What?”

Nakamori glared. “I said, it’s my fault as much as it’s yours. As leader of the task force, it’s my job to take these kinds of matters seriously, and I wouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you can’t turn to me for help, and I definitely shouldn’t have been playing favourites, and I’m sorry for that. I should have done better, and I’ll try to do so in the future.”

Hakuba opened his mouth. Closed it again. Repeated the process. He should be saying something, but he was at a loss for words.

“Stop imitating a fish, dipshit,” Nakamori snapped. “Either way, you still broke a guy’s jaw, and I can’t let that slide. Although I can’t suspend you, considering the fact that you’re not actually an officer, I’m removing you from the case for the next three months and refusing you access to the heists. Also, if you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll be kicking you out properly. Just come to me next time, and I promise I’ll take your concerns seriously. No more vigilante justice, understood?”

“What about Yamamoto?” he managed to ask.

“Your evidence was obtained illegally, and not something that would hold up in court anyway, so therefore, it’s not something I can use to level any serious charges against him. However, his messages did imply rather heavily that your accusations were valid. Although your retaliation was far too extreme, childish bullying in the manner displayed by Yamamoto is not something that I’ll tolerate in my task force. As such, I requested for him to be transferred to another department. Hopefully that, and his time in the hospital, will teach him to behave in the future.”

Nakamori leaned back in his chair. “Now, I’ll ask you again: no more vigilante justice, understood?”

Although this barely felt real, Hakuba nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Nakamori waved a hand. “Now get out of here, and don’t let me see you for another three months.”

Outside, Baaya was waiting with the car. He watched he houses flash by as she drove him home, still somewhat dazed. He’d have to jump through some hoops for the next three months, but he wasn’t removed from the case permanently. Someone other than him had faced consequences. Nakamori had taken responsibility and apologized.

There was a new watch in his pocket, and surprisingly, it did not feel like such a bad thing.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Emogust - 07.08:  In which character A. is searching for a cat, and character B has found a cat around their windowsill // @sup-poki - A college!AU.

“What is that?”

Saguru squints across at his roommate, feels tempted almost to throw his textbook over at him, and decides against it. Kuroba is just being his strange self again, trying to distract him from his criminal law dissertation.

“I’m sure it’s very interesting,” Saguru sighs, trying to focus back on the legislation he’s researching. All very boring, important yes, but oh so very boring. He half considers procrastinating. “But not right now.”

“Oh please,” Kuroba says, “I’m pretty sure everything is more interesting that the legislation that’ll only be relevant to a single sentence of your report.”

Saguru hums. There are some interesting elements to researching his dissertation piece, but Kuroba is right that this isn’t really one of them. And it’s not even a major part of the research, just something he’s including because it will give him a higher grade.

Beside him, Kuroba shifts, unfolding himself from where he sits cross-legged on the sofa. He moves with a grace that Saguru catches from the corner of his eye, distracting in a criminal sense.

You know what, Saguru should probably be doing a dissertation on how his roommate is the Kaitou KID, there would be no shortage of articles and literature on the thief, and he’s got his own research he could add.

Then again, Kuroba would probably end up deleting his dissertation the day before submission if he did that, so… probably for the best if he doesn’t.

“I thought maybe it was a racoon, or a ferret,” Kuroba says now, and despite himself, Saguru glances up. He’s been successfully distracted. “But it’s a cat.”

Saguru lets out a sigh, pushes himself up, and follows Kuroba to the patio door that leads out to their balcony. It’s small outside, barely larger than a prison cell, but sometimes on hotter days, Saguru will study outside, dragging out one of the deckchairs from the cupboard.

“I’m sorry,” Saguru says, as he stares through the door – it’s opaque, and when he moves forward to unlock it, it slides open. “But do you even know what a ferret looks like?”

Kuroba huffs, crossing his arms. He says, “Out of the corner of my eye, it looked like it could be a very large ferret.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Saguru says, and then, slipping his phone from his back pocket, he brings up a photo of said animal. Turning his screen around, he says, “That cat looks nothing like one of these.”

Kuroba does what he usually does whenever Saguru goes to show him something, and that’s steal his phone and swipe through the page without a care. Saguru rolls his eyes, steps out onto the balcony and glances at the cat.

“Ah, ferrets are kind of cute, aren’t they Hakuba?” Kuroba says. Saguru, feeling a headache coming on, decides to focus on their visitor instead.

Practically a bundle of fur, but almost elegant, the cat is easily recognisable as a Norwegian forest cat. Tufts of orange and brown fur mixed together against white fur, makes it look like the sort of pet someone would showcase in a pet beauty competition.

“Ah – Ah – Hakuba – look this one’s got a little hat on!”

Saguru takes a moment to glance away from the cat, offering Kuroba the driest look he can muster. It’s a mixture of exasperation and- nope. That’s pretty much it.

Let the man realise that even after all these years, even knowing that he’s capable of outrunning the police and committing crimes without being caught, Saguru still thinks of him as an idiot.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, just to make sure he gets it.

“How can you be so mean to me,” Kuroba says, “knowing that when you sleep each night, I’m only a room away?”

Saguru rolls his eyes. He turns back to the cat and finds himself squinting at it. Almost nervously, he reaches his hand out, as if questioning whether the animal will allow him to smooth it.

Glancing around, it isn’t too difficult to see how it got up here. Their apartment is on the first floor, so they don’t typically see anything other than birds up on their balcony, but there is a cherry blossom a little to the side of the apartment and it’s not impossible for a cat to climb to the edge of the branches and make the jump.

“Don’t be the demon roommate Kuroba, it’s too much of a cliché.” Kuroba huffs, and Saguru successfully places his hand against fur without having claws turned against him. The cat lets out a small purr, a low grumble and Saguru can’t help but feel satisfied by it. “Should we be looking for who owns this cat?”

He can practically feel the eye roll he receives. “Why do we need to search down the owner?”

“…Well, it could be lost, couldn’t it?”

“No, no,” Kuroba says, and now he moves forward, shuffling out onto the balcony as well, grabbing the back of Saguru’s shirt, dragging him backwards. “No, we’re not searching for the owner, it’ll find its way home eventually.”

“Wha–”

“We’re not doing this again,” Kuroba says, ignoring the incredulous eyebrow raise Saguru sends his way. “No – don’t give me that look. You know what I mean.”

Actually, Saguru doesn’t. He says as such.

“I refuse. Hakuba, dude, we go searching for the owner of this cat, and we’ll only meet someone who’s lost it. A weirdo, someone insane – deranged. Whatever. I’m not doing it.”

Saguru frowns. He says, “I think that’s a bit of a reach, don’t you?”

“Please,” Kuroba says, “it’s the truth.”

“No, you’re reaching.”

“Oh puh-lease,” Kuroba taps his fingers against his elbow, arms crossed as he shakes his head. “You haven’t realised? You attract crazy Hakuba, it kind of just flocks to you.”

Saguru frowns. He squints.

“I mean, I don’t really know why,” the thief continues, “but my working theory is you’re just so boring, that the crazies flock to you because they think you’re hiding some of it.”

“I don’t attract crazy people.”

“I mean, I’m your roommate,” Kuroba shrugs, scrunches his nose. “That’s one example.”

“You’re an anomaly in the statistics,” Saguru says. “And even then, you’re not crazy, you’re just…”

He doesn’t know what to say so he simply waves the man up and down. Kaito huffs again, breathing through his nose, the side of his lips moving up in a half-grin. More amused rather than annoyed.

“Uh, sorry,” – Kuroba snorts, lets out a low laugh. – “but you do. I mean, don’t you remember Yue-san?”

Saguru winces. Alright, so maybe Yue-san, the student they’d met during the previous years summer social had been a little insane, but they’d not known that at the time. And to be fair, the woman had hardly been crazy, just a cultist who was pursuing a sociology degree and…

Okay, no, yeah, considering the fact she’d tried to indoctrinate them both into her cult, it’d kind of be stupid to deny her… issues.

“Another anomaly.”

Kuroba groans. He sighs, goes to say something else, lips parted slightly for words when a knock echoes from the other side of the door. Saguru turns, arching his head back indoors.

“I’ll get it,” he says, because Kuroba is the kind of person who’d rather wait and say he’s not answering the door in case a murderer is on the other side. Which, well – there are so many issues with that.

“Hope you don’t die!” Kuroba says, which is pretty much confirmation that he isn’t expecting anyone.

Opening the door reveals a woman with deep, plum coloured hair. She looks concerned, worried, as she stands in front of him. For a moment, Saguru watches as she fiddles with the sleeve of her blouse and then, he blinks and reminds himself that he’s being rude.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “hey, can I… help you?”

“Oh yes,” her voice is not hard, but there is a strictness to it, something that leaves him standing a little straighter. “Sorry, I don’t presume you’ve seen a cat around recently.”

Saguru blinks.

Well that’s easy, isn’t it. Now they don’t have to go searching for an owner.

“Ah, well, yeah I have actually.” He turns ever so slightly to look inside his apartment, to where Kuroba is now rubbing the belly of the animal in question. “A… Norwegian forest cat, yes?”

“This one?” The girl asks, and sure enough, when she shows him a picture it’s an exact likeness to the one on their balcony. “I’m quite worried about his absence.”

Saguru can understand that, how nervous someone can be when a cat is roaming around for a long time, without being seen. He says, “yeah, he’s uh – just through here. If you want to get him?”

She tilts her head, half agreeing, half thankful. Depositing her shoes by the entrance and continuing with just her socks, she waits until Saguru has closed the door and then, follows him to the balcony.

Kuroba glances up at the sound of their footsteps, and after the initial surprise at seeing a stranger in their apartment, he offers a smile. That polite one he practises for people he doesn’t know how to read yet.

“Ah, Hakuba, who is this?”

You know, maybe Saguru should have asked first. Oh well, no one ever said his social skills were very good.

“Oh, of course, I haven’t introduced myself,” she says, “my name is Koizumi Akako. It’s a pleasure to meet you – and you’ve met my cat, it seems.”

Eyebrows raised, Kuroba nods, turning back to the cat that’s nibbling now at his fingertips in an attempt to draw his attention back to him. He says, “Oh, this little guy is yours?”

“Indeed, he is,” Koizumi says.

She steps forward, scoops the furball up into her arms. The cat leans against her, immediately comfortable. It’s seems an odd sight to see – it puts up no argument, offers no movement, other than the slight curl of its tail, swishing back and forth beneath her arm.

“And what is this little guy’s name?” Kuroba continues.

Koizumi offers them a smile, soft and content as she glances down at her pet. She says, “this is Lucifer.”

Oh? What an original name.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kuroba’s eyebrows fly up his forehead so quickly it seems almost like he’s waxed them off. It’s practically invigorating watching his roommate bite down his tongue in an attempt to not say anything.

“Is that so?” Saguru says.

“Yes,” Koizumi nods, adjusting her hand on the cat to scratch behind his ears. “This cat harnesses the spirit of the satanic majesty Lucifer himself. A drunken mistake made by myself, but we’re getting used to being roommates, I like to think.”

Kuroba jerks. It looks mildly, beneath the initial mask he wears around new company, like he’s in pain.

Maybe he’s having an aneurysm.

“But,” Koizumi continues, “he’s quite a docile little fallen angel as long as I give him tuna every so often, isn’t that right, Lucifer?”

Lucifer purrs.

Kuroba, predictably, jerks again. His lips force into a slightly larger smile than usual – it makes him look almost psychopathic, but hey, maybe it’s just because Saguru sees KID in a smile like that.

“He must love the tuna then,” Saguru says, and Koizumi nods.

“If you’ll excuse me though,” she says, voice lowering, “Lucifer and I should probably head back. We’re having a ritual dinner tonight, and I’d hate to be late.”

“Ah,” Saguru blinks. “Yes, of course. I’m glad we could – give you your cat back?”

Koizumi offers him a smile on her way out, her thanks slipping from her lips on her way out. Saguru closes the door after her and then, slowly turns around to face his roommate.

Kuroba looks almost like he’s waiting for something. He rolls his wrist, his hand waving in a way that urges him to speak. He says, “…well?”

“She seems nice.”

For a moment, all Kuroba can do is blink. Then, thrusting a hand out to point at Saguru, he says, “that’s what you’ve taken from this? She seems nice?”

“Well yes,” Saguru says, pausing. “What else am I supposed to think?”

“She’s – fucking crazy.” Kuroba lifts his hand, brushes it through his hair. It makes his hair even messier than it usually is. “She thinks her cat is the devil, and that she’s placating him by giving him fucking tuna, and all you can think of is that she’s nice?”

“I mean,” Saguru pauses, “I think a lot of cat owners say their pet is the devil.”

Kuroba takes a long breath, heaves it out with so much force that it feels like his body shakes from the pressure of it. He says, “I don’t know who’s more insane. That Koizumi girl for believing that, or you, because there aren’t any little alarm bells ringing in your head.”

[witchhakuba]

I just realized I never made a Triple R Au explanation post

The triple r au aka the reason i keep taggin cats with saguru/shiho/akemi

it's called triple r bc it's the randomized role reversal au

meaning i just entered a bunch of names and roles into a randomized and ran w it

there's no complete fic it's all just vignettes BUT there is a plot

one part follows heiji, akako, saguru, and the miyanos as they both lay low from the BO and use a combo of magic (saguru+ the miyanos) and science (akako) to reverse the APTX heiji took

part 2 follows detective kaito™ as he tracks down kaitou sapphire (aoko) and her assistant (ran) while also investigating the BO and their connections to pandora

part 2 2 electric boogaloo has aoko ran and chikage using the sapphire persona to find pandora

part 2 3 empire strikes back has ran avoiding answering pro soccer player shinichis questions about where she goes every few weeks

actual part 3 follows masumi and kazuha as they track heiji and akako to finish the both of them off (very angsty)

kaito doesn't know his dad was KID but aoko found out on accident

saguru, shiho, and akemi can all turn into cats like traditional witches: saguru turns in a white european shorthair/japanese bobtail mix, shiho turns into a grey british shorthair, akemi turns into a black mandalay

rans code name is orchid

kazuhas code name is rosé

masumis code name is madeira

kaito is pretty oblivious to sagurus magic even if it's blatantly happening in front of him

this is my oldest au by far so feel free to ask me about details ;3c

[lisatelramor]

Not Left To Stand Alone ch 31

Hiroto’s workplace was a nondescript office building with the mysterious words of Nikai Company emblazoned above the entryway in English letters, but no other indications of what the company was for or why it required a whole building to itself. From past conversations, Saguru recalled that the company worked a great deal overseas, presumably globally from the shifting hours Hiroto seemed to hold depending on what conferences were needed when. Hiroto was an intermediary of sorts, presenting ideas back and forth across language barriers if Saguru remembered correctly, but not in charge of leading ideas. That would mean access to a large number of projects with at least casual knowledge of what those projects entailed. For the life of him, Saguru couldn’t remember if Hiroto had ever mentioned what, exactly, his company’s business was. There were dozens of anecdotes about lagging Skype calls, mistranslations, and paperwork failures that came to mind, but nothing on products or anything particularly useful in having a clue about what he was walking into. Even the business card Hiroto gave him only briefly mentioned financial services. Which might or might not tie in to the business contracting Hiroto just mentioned on the phone. Saguru would have liked the chance to look the company up a bit more but he’d never thought to do so before tonight.

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. Even more surprisingly, the front desk was currently unstaffed. Saguru eyed the bright glow of a computer screen on the other side of it. Not away long enough for the computer to go to sleep, but no sign of anyone otherwise. The security cameras blinked tiny red pinpoints of light from the corners of the ceiling. He ignored them and walked with purpose to the elevator. If he’d learned anything from Kuroba, acting like you belonged and knew what you were doing often times worked just as well as if you were actually supposed to be there.

The elevator was small and full of overly bright brass fittings that were a tasteless design choice. Saguru stopped the elevator a floor below his stop and took the stairs the rest of the way. The lights in the hallways were dim, only the emergency exit signs glowing, and a few emergency lights here and there to lead the way. The whole place had the hair rising on the back of Saguru’s neck, tripping his gut instinct that something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t put a finger on what, aside from the missing secretary at the front desk. Nothing was out of place for an office, fake plants and real ones interspersed outside of offices to try and brighten up the atmosphere and rows of doors with name plaques on them. The only sound in the stairwell was the sound of Saguru’s footsteps interspersed with his breath, made a bit short by the exertion.

There were a few lights on in this floor, and Saguru used them as a guide, cautious. Empty office, bookshelf behind a desk with a desktop computer, screen still lit. He recognized it from a photo, the one Hiroto sent of a small child staring at him from the corner of the room. And there were childish drawings done in red and black and blue pen taped up on one wall. His boss’s office then.

The break room had one light on above the sink and a coffee pot half full with a red light showing it was still hot. The bathroom lights were off.

“Hiroto-san?” Saguru said, voice soft as he pushed open the bathroom door; it wasn’t one that locked from the inside, but was full of stalls with urinals along the one wall. No feet under the stalls, but if he held still...the sound of breathing a bit too rapid and panicky to be quiet. “It’s Saguru.”

There was a long pause before the end stall door creaked open further and Hiroto all but fell out of it. He was at Saguru’s side in an instant, grabbing his arm like it was a life preserver and he was drowning.

“You’re here,” he said. “You’re actually here thank goodness I wasn’t sure if you would actually come or if you’d make it up but you’re here and not a-a-a killer or something.”

“I know we didn’t last talk on the best of circumstances, but I wouldn’t have left you waiting if I didn’t intend to come,” Saguru said. Hiroto let out a breath and leaned against him for a moment. Saguru steadied him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Hiroto said. He took another breath, already steadier. “Sorry. Just. A little freaked out.”

“Understandable.” When Hiroto pulled back, Saguru let his concern melt away into seriousness. “Could you show me what you found?”

“Yes. Yes just...come with me.” Hiroto darted out into the hallway, looking around sharply before leading the way back to his boss’s office. The computer screen had turned over to a screen saver, colored lines flashing across a black background.

“It’s... I put the file folders onto a flash drive, but I don’t know if that will work or if they’ll be corrupted with the number of passwords to get to them... I don’t know much about computers beyond what I need to know for work.” He clicked through files, keying in codes to bring up more and more sub-folders. Hiroto bit his lip as Saguru glanced at the folder names—dates, all of them, numbers going back years. Each year was separated into month, then by week and day, the files themselves just numbers that had no immediate meaning to Saguru’s eyes.

“How did you even find these?” It wasn’t something that you just stumbled on from the look of it.

Hiroto flushed. “I told you I was cleaning up documents right? Well I noticed that there was too much data in a file for it to be normal and so I checked to see if there were hidden files... There’s a lot of them. This is just one of them, but there’s files mixed in with regular things too. With invoices and project files.” He clicked around a bit more, showing translucent file icons amidst bold ones. “I wasn’t expecting so many. I thought...” He blushed harder. “I thought maybe they were just something inappropriate for work or something but...”

“But they weren’t.” No one would have this many hidden documents or such organized ones if it were merely pornography or something similar.

“No. Then I thought maybe my boss was skimming company funds but...” Hiroto pulled up a file. It was in English, surprisingly, bold letters listing out a date and location with a clinical report following that detailed some unfortunate person’s death.

Saguru clicked on a few more, bringing up similar reports or transferred resources, stolen research data, and results from tests that the reports assumed were already known. It was chilling. “Who has access to these files?”

“They’re only on this computer,” Hiroto said softly. “I checked a few others in my office for hidden files, but it was only my boss that had these. I don’t know about the higher ups though. The only one with passwords for this computer are my boss and me, and I only know them because I sometimes cover his work when he’s on trips.”

“And password protecting files is common practice here?”

“Only on my boss’s computer. It didn’t seem weird; he has sensitive information on the company and employees so of course he wouldn’t want just anyone looking at it...”

Saguru was only half paying attention, eyes caught on a file. May tenth of last year. Not significant, perhaps, as there were documents dated a few days before and a few after the date, but... it was the day before Mel was shot. Saguru clicked on it. Progenetics...stolen research on project Mercury... Saguru’s own name stood out at him, the words incapacitate or kill leaving him with a rushing sound in his ears that was probably his heartrate spiking.

“Is that...is that your name?” Hiroto whispered. “Is this a kill order?!”

“Or something,” Saguru said, feeling words leave him as if from a great distance. He’d looked for clues, the London police force had looked for clues for months and here this was in Japan of all places and— And he didn’t have time for the emotions any of this had boiling up in him, sharp and hot and ragged. He breathed in, out. “If these files are only on this computer, it would be ideal if we could take the hard drive with us.”

“What, the whole thing?” Hiroto asked, wide eyed.

“I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of what you just found,” Saguru said, already pulling the computer tower toward him. He had a spare flash drive that he used to hold documents for work, on his keychain. He fished it out and handed it to Hiroto. “Put as many files as you can on this, please. Delete what is already on it; there’s nothing irreplaceable and this is more important.”

“Saguru?” Hiroto said, hesitating and scared again.

“Please.” This felt like too much of a windfall after everything, too good to be true that Saguru would stumble across the order that had signed Mel’s death, albeit as collateral.  It had every instinct screaming at him that something was wrong.

“I’m going to be fired for this,” Hiroto said, mostly to himself, as he set to copying files.

Saguru started opening drawers looking for something that could be used as a screwdriver to open the back of the tower. This was not technically legal, but he couldn’t find it in him to care considering the circumstances. There was a very real chance that by the time he forwarded the information and the police got a permit, then the information could be erased. There, a small pair of scissors, the blades just wide enough to catch on the screw head.

“They’re transferring,” Hiroto said. “As much as will fit. Um, I included the file you were looking at.”

“Thank you.” Saguru handed Hiroto his phone and went at the screws. “Please text that incriminating documents were found and that I am in the process of trying to secure the hard drive to contacts ‘Aoko’ and ‘Kudo.’”

A light in the hallway flicked on. They both froze, two screws in Saguru’s hand and Hiroto’s fingers white knuckled around Saguru’s cell phone as a man stood in the doorway.

“I had such high hopes for you, Nakahara-kun,” the man said. He was dressed in a neatly pressed business suit, hair combed back from his face, and a semi-automatic pistol in hand.

“Hanaka-kacho...” Hiroto trembled.

Saguru gripped the scissors in the palm of his hand as Hiroto’s boss walked further into the room.

“I give you my trust and you look through my personal files.” His eyes flicked to Saguru. “And you try to steal them. The company has a pretty strict policy about that sort of thing.” Hanaka spoke like he was having a friendly chat, but there was no hesitation in his steady aim at Hiroto’s chest.

“Strict as in an early grave I take it,” Saguru said, dry and caustic.

The man turned toward him and his business neutral expression flickered to one of distaste. “The British detective. For someone supposedly retired, you seem to have your hand in a bit of everything at the moment.”

“Retirement never seems to stick,” Saguru said. “The world seems to enjoy throwing me into situations where certain skillsets I have are required.” It was strange, the lack of panic he felt at the moment. Considering how recently Takumi had almost been shot and Kuroba had been shot, staring down a man with a gun should have his heart hammering and his hands shaking. Instead, he’d never felt steadier. The scissors were reassuringly heavy in his hand.

“You’d have a much more peaceful and long life if you just learned to mind your own business.” Hanaka looked back at Hiroto. Hiroto was shaking so badly it looked like he was going to fall over in a faint. “I could say the same for you. Your work was good. It will be difficult to replace you.”

The man’s eyes shuttered, closing off in a way Saguru recognized intimately of a person steeling themselves for an unpleasant task. Saguru shifted, pulling attention away from Hiroto before the trigger could be pulled, desperate to keep him talking just that bit longer, to lower his guard, something. “No one even realizes yet that this company is related to the others from the info drop, do they?” Saguru said, because it was true. Who would suspect it as it wasn’t a cosmetics company, wasn’t connected to pharmaceuticals or chemical research or longevity research at all. At what little he’d gleaned from glancing at files, it was a company that worked as a go between, an international link up, the middle man for many other countries venturing into overseas trade, and as such had a hand in a little bit of everything, but not so much so that it would stand out. It would be the perfect sort of place to use seeding agents globally though. A hub in a branching web, the communication core connecting all the other branches with each other yet safe if any one of them fall. Because they didn’t have stake in the race for immortality. Perhaps managing behind the scenes and picking off any perceived threats. No one would look to a supposedly unrelated company if someone died investigating a different one.

Like Mel. Like Saguru was shot years ago. Kill or injure and generally make it too expensive one way or another to look any deeper into the matter.

Hanaka gave Saguru another once over, eyes lingering on the scissors and the cane just out of reach where Saguru's leaned it against the desk, dismissing them as a threat—too much distance when a bullet could kill him before he had a chance to complete a lunge.

Saguru took another steady breath. “No one realizes how much your company is involved in at all. Is it just this organization you have ties with?” He tilted his head, moving just a bit to the side...get attention on him, Hiroto out of peripheral vision, get the gun on him. “You must have a lot of people coming and going from Japan. How many of those people are office workers, Hanaka-san? And how many of those are killers?”

“You’d like if I answered that, wouldn’t you?” Hanaka said. “Laid out all the messy details like some kind of cartoon villain.” He scoffed. “The only reason you’re not already dead is because I don’t want blood on my carpet.”

Yes, actually, that would be very convenient, Saguru thought a bit sarcastically. “I imagine it would be equally incriminating to shoot us in a stairwell or somewhere else that blood will get everywhere.”

“But then it would be someone else’s problem,” Hanaka said, eyes half-lidded and dangerous. “And I’m not even back in the country yet; I’m not due back until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the security cameras would be surprised about that revelation.”

Hanaka frowned and jerked the gun in Saguru’s direction. “Stand up. Both of you walk toward the door.”

Saguru made a show of complying very slowly, playing up how stiff his knee was and the need for a cane he was too far from to grab. It kept Hanaka’s eyes on him right up until Hiroto’s shaking legs gave out and he crashed to the ground.

“Sor-I’m, I’m getting up I’ll just—” Hiroto babbled, hands grabbing at the desk to pull himself up. Saguru caught a glimpse of his hand swinging past the flash drives and as one vanished into Hiroto’s mess of flailing, he realized what Hiroto was doing.

“Pull yourself together, Nakahara-kun,” Hanaka said, exasperated and missing the act completely. “Try to face your death with more dignity; I know you’re not that pathetic. If you can handle closing a deal with a Russian oil company, you can handle having a gun in your face.”

“Being shot is a bit more final than failing to negotiate a business deal.” Saguru helped Hiroto to his feet, blocking him from view long enough for him to slip the flash drives into his pocket. He still had Saguru’s phone too, hand clutched so tight around it that it was a miracle the screen hadn’t fractured. In the second their eyes met, Hiroto’s gaze held a mix of terror and determination.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, detective?” Hanaka drawled. He nodded to the door. “Go.”

There was no moment that Saguru could take advantage of and try to turn the situation around—Hanaka made sure to keep his distance and his weapon at the ready. That said, Saguru wasn’t sure he could have subdued him even if there had been an opening. Saguru still had Judo skills, but those required a more solid stance than he had most days. And despite being taller than Hanaka and outweighing him, the cut of Hanaka’s suit hinted at a fit body; he probably would have been able to overpower Saguru anyway. It would be worth it anyway to get the gun from him, but with the distance, Hanaka would shoot and probably hit one of them before Saguru could hit him. Hiroto filed out first. Saguru was the one that had the gun pointed at him now, right between his shoulder blades.

“Planning to take us to the roof?”

“Why would I do that when there’s such a fitting scenario that could take place already?” Hanaka herded them toward the bathroom. “I’d heard a few rumors that you were seen in Shinjuku Ni-chōme, Nakahara-kun. I admit I’d wondered about you a few times, you confirmed you were interested in men when I gave you a bit more...singled out attention.” Hiroto went that much paler. Saguru wondered what those interactions must have been. “And here we have a detective known to be gay. It creates such a perfect story, don’t you think? A lover’s spat gone wrong after hours.”

Scarily, considering his and Hiroto’s history, that was a believable scenario.

“And of course Nakahara-kun is so distraught at how things went that he takes his life.” Hanaka smiled like a wolf, all teeth and promise of death. “Murder suicide. A far more poetic death than either of you deserves.”

Hiroto’s breath hitched toward hyperventilation.

As Hiroto pushed open the bathroom door, Saguru realized that this was the only chance he’d get; there was no escaping once they were all in the bathroom. As the door started to shut, he stumbled, playing on his bad leg to make it realistic.

“Just get in the—” Hanaka said, but he didn’t have a chance to finish as Saguru turned the stumble into a blind dive in his direction.

Please don’t be shot, he thought, please let Hiroto be smart enough to get away from the door. The gun went off as Saguru collided with Hanaka’s knees, and either he’d missed or Saguru had too much adrenaline in his system to feel pain at the moment. As the gun moved down and Hanaka’s face contorted with a snarl Saguru’s ringing ears failed to hear, Saguru stabbed blindly with the scissors he’d palmed earlier.

They sunk into the meat of Hanaka’s thigh, jerking free when he staggered back, yelling. The hand with the gun hit Saguru in the forehead, cutting above his eyebrow. Saguru stabbed again, got a glancing blow to Hanaka’s hand, and the gun clattered to the ground, miraculously not going off a second time. Saguru managed to kick it toward the potted plant down the hall before he was tackled. The scissors skidded off somewhere as a blood-slick hand grappled at his throat, trying to choke him.

A twist, fail to throw him off. An elbow to the gut and Saguru could breathe again for a moment. There was blood in his eye, couldn’t see, bared teeth set in a snarl centimeters from his face. Saguru caught his assailant’s wrists before fingers could dig into his throat again, struggled to shift balance and overpower his opponent like he’d learned, knee aching aching and a grown man’s weight trying to pin him down.

Hanaka jerked with a sudden force, smacking down and almost head-butting Saguru in the process. Another dull force sounded above him and Hanaka went limp. Saguru pushed him off to find Hiroto standing over them with a plastic toilet seat gripped in white knuckled hands.

Hanaka groaned, only half unconscious from the blows to his head. Before he could recover, Saguru ripped Hanaka’s tie free and used it to tie his hands behind his back. Only then did he sit back, panting. There was blood streaked all over the tile floor between Saguru’s head wound and Hanaka’s stab wounds.

“Fuck,” Saguru said with feeling.

“You’re not dead,” Hiroto said, dropping the toilet seat and sliding to the ground as his knees gave out. He started giggling, head in his hands. “We’re not dead.”

“Surprisingly,” Saguru agreed. Head wounds bled too much. His sleeve wasn’t making much headway in stemming the flow. “A toilet seat?”

“It’s the sturdiest thing in the bathroom I could pry free,” Hiroto said. He grabbed Saguru in a sudden, tight hug and kissed him. “We’re not dead!”

“Um.” Saguru blinked as he was released as quickly as he’d been grabbed. Hopefully that was just relief acting and not Hiroto actually still being interested. He pressed his handkerchief to his head. “Do you have my phone still?”

“Yeah,” Hiroto said, giggling petering out. “I called...uh. Somebody. I didn’t hang up either.” He held up the phone where a counter showed a call connected to Aoko that had been going for the last seven minutes. Had it only been less than ten minutes? It felt much longer.

Saguru took the phone from Hiroto. “Aoko.”

“What the fuck is going on over there, Hakuba?” Aoko asked. “There was a gunshot and screaming and just now there was laughter.”

“It seems that there is organization involvement at the address I texted you after all. There is a suspect with stab wounds who had possession of a gun and I have a head wound. I am not sure if there is anyone else to worry about or not. The suspect is currently incapacitated however.”

Hiroto sat up, looking around like he expected someone to manifest from the potted plant with a gun.

“Wonderful,” Aoko grumbled. “Stay where you are, I was already on my way over. I got a search warrant pushed through fast. That’s the only reason I’m not there already.”

“You got a search warrant in the middle of the night?”

“You underestimate just how much the police wants to get this internal investigation over with. If there’s even a hint of it being connected, papers are going through no matter where and when.”

“Ah.” The pain was catching up with him, knees and shoulders and hips aching from landing on them and his neck where Hanaka had bruised and scratched, and the throbbing point of pain on his brow where the blood was finally slowing.

“Secure the weapon and the suspect, but don’t contaminate the scene any more than needed,” Aoko said.

“Of course. There’s a witness with me, the one who sent the tip.”

“Got it. I’m going to call in an ambulance as well.”

“Thank you, Aoko.”

“Don’t die in the meantime,” she said. They didn’t hang up, but Saguru set the phone down, all the focus and abnormal calm that had filled him draining away. It just left exhaustion and pain in its wake.

“Are you hurt?” Saguru asked Hiroto.

“No.” Hiroto tried to smile but stopped when it wouldn’t quite form. “No, you did a good job keeping him away from me.”

“Good. Good thinking with the flash drives.”

“That’s the most terrified I’ve been in my life.” Hiroto stared blankly at his boss. “Well. I guess if I can face down a man with a gun, going to job interviews when I lose my job won’t be scary at all.”

“You might not lose your job.”

“They’re going to tear the company apart looking into what is and isn’t legal business deals,” Hiroto said. He sounded pretty calm about it, but as he said, it wasn’t as scary as having a gun pointed at you. “There might not be a company left after this. I’d probably be better off leaving tomorrow if I can and figuring out things from there.”

Well. There wasn’t really anything Saguru could say about that.  Hanaka groaned again staring blearily around at them before squeezing his eyes shut. He might have a concussion. Saguru couldn’t bring himself to care much when he’d almost been killed a few minutes earlier. He did have to wonder what the man’s motives were. He had family, an ideal work life for all appearances. What had drawn him to the world’s underbelly?

After a few moments, Saguru managed to drag himself up and shove an upended trash bin over the gun so it wasn’t as easily accessible. He wasn’t sure what to say to Hiroto to make any of this better. They were alive, at least. They were alive, and they’d gotten files enough that would hopefully sink the organization the rest of the way. Files that would solve cold cases and give closure.

[p0kerfxce-phant0mthief-blog]

☢☣

☢ : I’d say mixed feelings with this one, but Hakuba Saguru. It’s because Hakuba knows everything about him and then undermines him but at the same time... It’s kind of cool? Creepy though.

☣: Respect? Nakamori Ginzo. The guy has worked on the Kid case for years. And he’ll do anything to “let” Kid still exist. it’s pretty admirable.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Law Unto Themselves (4/??)

Summary: Akako receives a visit from KID and is given a request. Dark!AU where the good guys are the bad guys, and vice versa.

[Beginning]     [Previous Chapter]

When it comes to information gathering and computer hacking, there's only two people worth paying in Tokyo.

All the others will work if faced with intimidation tactics and blackmail, but Koizumi Akako and her partner... well, they only work when there's money involved. Maybe they can't be intimidated because they're also information brokers, but there's never been an instance where they've been forced to work without pay or to give up secrets unwillingly.

So, as soon as KID comes through into the bar she runs – WitchCraft – Akako has to swallow the words 'wallet out first', each word slithering back down her throat like ink. It's tasteless, almost disgusting, but they've got a certain... clause to their business that makes KID's situation different to the others.

Instead of saying anything, Akako pours him a drink – nothing alcoholic, he's driving and needs to get home to Aoko-chan soon – dropping two ice cubes into the glass and splashing lemonade onto the bar. Bubbles burn against her hand, but it's not painful, not the way hellfire and acid are, so she doesn't think twice about it.

KID drops into a stool as she pushes the glass over, offers her one of his most charming grins, (which means that not only does he want something, he wants it quickly), and sips at his lemonade without breaking eye contact. Akako almost wants to snatch the glass back, and throw it at his smug face.

She doesn't.

“Can I get an ice cream?” He asks, and Akako's eyelid twitches. She's surprised she's not throttled him yet – and then she reminds herself: the clause. A mutual decision between her and her partner and for every moment she's been glad it's in place, she's also wanted to redact it and burn the unwritten contract to ashes.

“We're in a bar, Kaito-kun,” Akako says, and she's glad they've reached a point where he doesn't glare every time she uses his given name, it almost makes her feel giddy. “Does it look like we have fucking ice cream here?”

“Is that a no?”

Akako squints, “there's some up in the office. If you want it that badly, you can go up yourself.” She pauses, eyes glancing towards the dance floor where a couple of foreigners are dancing a lot more promiscuously than she'd anticipated. She'll have to cut them off soon, before they become complete messes. “What are you really here for?”

“I have a disc, but it's encrypted. I need you to unlock it.”

Akako shrugs her shoulders. All of the equipment is up in the offices, and since she's waiting for one of her bartenders to come back from their break she can't exactly leave their newbie by himself yet.

“How soon do you need it?” She says, which is as close to a 'yes, I'll do it' as she'll ever come to saying. If she can get to the computers then she can start – but well, she doesn't think that KID knows enough about hacking to understand that things like this actually do take time. It's not like she can just hard break an encryption, it'd take years if she goes about it that way...

“How does an hour sound?” KID asks, and this time Akako does lean forward, snatching the glass from his hand and pouring it away into the sink. She places it back on the counter, glares across at him. “I take it an hour is an insult?”

“Hacking isn't as easy as typing a little bit of code and expecting everything to unravel,” Akako says, “but we'll see what we can do.”

KID jerks around, and Akako smirks as she watches him search for her other half. It's almost comical, and she has to suppress a laugh, mainly because KID's always been a performer, and performers get antsy whenever their audience don't respond the way they'd planned.

“If you're looking for Saguru-kun,” Akako says, clicking her tongue, “he's in the office. If you wait for one of my staff to get back, we'll go up and bother him together.”

When he turns back, his lips are pressed into a thin line. He's not Hakuba Saguru's biggest fan, but he does respect him. There's distaste there, at having to ask Saguru for help, and Akako almost revels in seeing the expression instead of a grin, purely because it's real and it's raw.

“Unless,” Akako raises an eyebrow, “you'd like to go up without me?”

A shake of his head. KID leans forward against the bar, pushes the glass back towards her and says, “as long as I'm not waiting too long. Aoko will worry.”

It takes fifteen minutes of waiting, but eventually her staff member does finish her break. It really shouldn't be so long, Akako thinks, but one look at the break roster shows that her bartender is actually back ten minutes earlier than expected.

Akako shrugs it off with a half-hearted smile, sends KID a look for him to follow after he and makes her way over to his side of the bar. Then, she throws off the slight apron she's wearing, folding it over her arm. It's a fluid movement, as she walks, shadowed by the thief.

“I've still got some things I need to do as well,” Akako says, as KID falls into step beside her, the two of them making their way to the back, where the offices are situated, “but I'll offer whatever help I can while you explain. We do need to check our books before we close tonight though, so that's my priority.”

“It must be a pain running this place,” KID says after a moment, which... Isn't exactly false. It's not true either, not by a long shot, and Akako saves the response that she actually enjoys running a business, half because she knows he doesn't care, the other half because it's something she wants to keep secret.

Instead, she hums – a sound that's not quite a confirmation, but not disapproval either.

“I'm glad you're here tonight though,” KID continues after a moment, as if her silence isn't a request for him to quit talking. Akako doesn't know whether she loves him or hates him; The emotions twist and mix into one another. “I'm not dressed for the casino.”

“You know that the casino is Saguru's domain,” Akako sighs.

“And yet,” KID says, “he's here.”

This time, she can't resist the smirk that rises to her face. Seriously – who does Kuroba think he's dealing with? He's visiting the best informants in Tokyo and he's wondering why they're both in the same place at once? There's only one answer to that:

Him.

“We had a feeling you might visit soon,” Akako says, as she opens the door to the office. She offers another smirk, “we can tell the future you know, I'm a witch.”

She's not but well... with the right amount of hallucinogens and alcohol mixing into the bar, she might as well be. And with the right sources, the right information, it's not difficult to predict future events. It's why she works well alongside Saguru – mixing logic and magic together leaves them both at the top of the metaphorical food chain in Tokyo.

“A witch, huh?” KID mutters, “sounds fitting.”

It's difficult to decide whether she should be insulted or complimented. Shelving it away for later consideration, she steps inside the office, waiting until KID's stepped inside to close the door behind him. It closes with a click, leaving them in a artificially lit room.

It's not much different to a regular office: There are file cabinets in the far right corner, and a desk with paper stacked on the side. Work schedules are scattered around the middle of the desk, around the monitor and maybe Akako is a bit messy but she's efficient.

“I thought it was about time for you to show up,” Saguru says, from where he's searching through the cabinets. The cabinets all have files, information that they've printed out for clients who'll be interested, but most of their information is kept on USB sticks that they wear on their person at all times. “Tea?”

Beside her KID tenses. The tension is palpable, easily sliced into and Akako leans forward to click on the kettle that Saguru has brought, for something to do.

“Tea would be nice,” She says, “I'll make gyokuro, do you think that'll be sweet enough for your taste, KID?”

She turns, and receives a nod. KID slumps forward, throwing himself down onto one of the couches in the middle of the room. There are two, positioned opposite one another with a coffee table between them. By the time she's poured the tea for the three of them, Saguru has gathered a file from the cabinet, and has thrown it on the coffee table.

Akako doesn't need to ask which it is.

KID scoops it up as she places the cups down onto the table, opens the file to the first page. He pauses, glances up at them both as Akako settles next to Saguru on the seat.

“What the hell is this?”

“Masuyama Kenzo's phone records.” Saguru says, “all the calls he made from his mobile and house phone in the past three months. Who he called, and for how long. You should've interrogated him before shooting him, you know.”

“What does it matter who he spoke to?” KID grumbles, “all we need to worry about is what he knew. Not who knows what.”

Akako sighs, picks up her cup, blowing at steam to cool it down. She takes a sip of her drink, leans it on her knee as she says, “you're usually so smart. I guess this is why you're not an informant. Look at the second page, third from the bottom.”

KID turns the page, scowls at the paper. He looks up, “Why the hell would Pisco be phoning an American number...? I take it you guys have looked into it?”

“Naturally,” Saguru says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He unlocks it with his fingerprint, swipes at his screen to pull up a picture. He turns it to show KID, the photograph depicting a blonde American woman with glasses framing her face. “Starling Jodie. She's an FBI agent working in Japan. Her official records say she's working as an English teacher while taking a holiday from the force.”

“Let me guess,” KID says, glancing at the photograph, memorising the lines of her face, the crinkle between her brows, “the FBI records say differently.”

“Exactly,” Akako says, “that, mixed with the fact that she's talking to Masuyama, means that you've got yet another organisation on your back.”

Reaching his hand into his jacket pocket, KID pulls out a disc. He passes it over to Akako, narrowing his eyes as she takes it. He says, “So they've obviously got something concrete to get the FBI involved then. We need to read into this disc then.”

“The disc that Gin was asking for?” Saguru asks, as Akako places her cup back onto the table, making her way over to her desk. Opening the disc drive, she places it inside, sitting down on the chair to glance at the monitor.

“How- You know what, I'm not gonna ask how you know. How long do you think it'll take to get into that disc?”

Saguru stands too, bringing his tea with him, where he stands behind Akako, glancing at the monitor as she pulls up lines of code. It'd not taken either long to learn to read binary code, and sometimes looking at ones and zeros seems more natural than at letters.

“Anywhere between seconds,” Akako says, “and never. We'll text you when we've unlocked it.”

KID crosses his arms, opens his mouth to speak but ultimately, says nothing.

“Anyway, don't you need to burn down Masuyama's house?” Saguru adds, “I thought Kudo gave you orders for it.”

“I couldn't exactly burn the place down until I knew I had the right disc, could I?” KID sighs, shakes his head. “I guess I'll just have to drive back now. If it's not the real thing, you'll get into it by the time I get to his house again, right?”

Once again, Akako wants to hit him for thinking hacking is as easy as that. Instead, they both nod – hacking is always easier when no one's around trying to distract you – and tell him they'll be in touch.

“Oh, and Kuroba?” Hakuba says, as KID stands, readying himself to leave. “Use the fact that Starling is a teacher to your advantage. There's a teacher conference in a few weeks, involving both your school district and hers. Maybe it'd be beneficial to actually go to one for a change.”

“Make contact with a FBI agent, huh?” KID says, “I'll sign up as soon as I know what's on that disc. It'd be stupid to go in without knowing how far they've gotten.”

It's not until he's closed the door behind him, that Akako realises his tea has gone untouched.

[Next Chapter]

[mintchocolateleaves]

Cost of Freedom (19/52)

Summary: In which Tokyo is the main objective. Prison ! AU.

[Beginning]    [Previous Chapter]    [Next Chapter]

Osaka  - 10.15 am

Heiji doesn't stick around.

He leaves Nara behind with a basic plan of how they're going to deal with the days to come, before leaving the small apartment behind, making his way towards his own motorcycle, readying himself for the drive back home. It's about half past nine when he starts up his bike, and he needs to be back home within an hour to greet Kazuha when she comes around.

He hadn't even remembered until six a.m that he'd promised to take her out for okonomiyaki today, and that she'd be over at ten-thirty.

It's almost... unnerving to leave both Kudo and Kuroba behind, even if he's left them with a disposable phone that they can use whenever they need to contact him. Not that he doesn't trust them, it's just - he doesn't like the idea of them both getting caught, and the two of them going to Tokyo doesn't quite install any confidence in him.

He makes it back home with fifteen minutes to spare - usually it takes him half an hour to get back into Osaka when he takes the Daini Hanna toll road, but there's busy traffic today - and even then, his speed is only fast because he weaves in and out of cars, ignoring the loud beeps that echo after him.

(It's not exactly the safest driving, but these drivers haven't seen an angry Toyama Kazuha before, so Heiji forgives them for misunderstanding.)

As soon as he's parked his motorcycle, he races into the house, discards his shoes, and heads straight up to his room to change into clean clothes. The idea of settling down on his bed only serves to make him feel tired, so he forces his way down to the kitchen, pours himself a drink, before settling back against the counter.

He doesn't have to wait long for Kazuha to show up, but during his wait for her to show, he glances through the morning news on his app, trying to make sense of the lack of reports on the prison escape. It's been ten hours, Heiji doubts that the police can keep something this large out of the media for much longer.

"Heiji!"

The detective turns at the sound of Kazuha's shout from his front door - his mother is out with friends, his father is never home, so he doesn't expect her to apologise for her intrusion - and calls back that he's in the kitchen.

As soon as she's swapped her shoes for slippers, Kazuha pops her head around the wall, sending him a small glare. Already, Heiji knows that he's forgotten to do something important - he's too tired to figure out what.

"I phoned ya earlier an' ya didn't pick up, ahou." She says, when she settles into the chair opposite his, leaning over to face him on the corner. "What's the point in havin' a phone if ya won't answer it?"

Heiji glances down at his phone, pulls up his missed calls and realises that she's not lying - there are two missed calls on his phone from her that he'd forgotten to take. His lips tighten when he turns the phone around to face her.

"Why'd ya phone at six a.m, idiot? I coulda been asleep!"

She gives him a look that says that 'you obviously weren't' and Heiji gives her a blank stare back until his phone starts buzzing in his hand.

Kazuha squints at his phone screen and says, "who's Hakuba?"

Heiji frowns, turns the phone around to press answer and says, "not anyone important."

Tokyo - The same time.

It's the mention of getting both Kuroba and Kudo's files from their time in solitary that reminds Saguru that he'd asked Hattori to send him over Kudo's psychiatric files. It's not exactly odd that Hattori hasn't sent them over - he's the type who'll take his time, and make things harder for Saguru at every turn - but it does make him remember that there are parts to their case that they need to catch Aoko up on.

He mentions it to her, and her first response is that they phone again. With both KID and Kudo on the run as criminals, they need whatever information they can get.

"Saguru-kun," Ran says, when he's pulled his phone out from his pocket, having poured over the visiting sheets they'd been given by Inspector Nakamori, "Hattori-kun isn't on Shinichi's list of visitors. I'm the only one on it."

Saguru doesn't want to pause about what that means, about the fact that Kudo's parents had never visited their son, how Hattori had probably never been invited by Kudo to the prison. Instead, he mutters, "Let's just ask Hattori-kun about it."

Aoko leans forward. She says, "Tell him about the escape as well."

"We've been warned not to tell anyone about this escape," Saguru responds, glancing away from his phone to face her. Her eyes are narrowed. While she's been perfectly civil towards him while they'd been catching her up, the glisten to her eyes cannot hide the distrust she has in him.

"Hakuba said Hattori-kun is a detective, right?" She leans back in her chair, relaxed within the police station. Saguru imagines that she's more adjusted to spending time in a station than at her own time, with the amount of time she spends trying to visit her father. "So he can help track those two down."

Ran says, "I don't know-"

"He thinks that Kudo is innocent, right?" Aoko asks. "Just say it. Aoko doesn't see a reason to hold off on telling him."

Saguru sighs, shakes his head. It's not exactly a bad idea... and if Hattori decides to help, they'll be able to work with someone who's talked to prisoner Kudo Shinichi, and isn't weighing him against the teenager they'd known in the past.

He nods, and presses call. Then, at Ran's request, he puts the phone on speakerphone.

"I said I'd send ya the files in a while," Hattori says when he picks up. There's a voice behind him - female, Toyama-san - asking whether 'Hakuba is that British detective he's complained about in the past', but the Osakan doesn't offer any response.

"I'm not calling about those," Saguru says, and already he wants to hang up. Talking to the hot-headed man always makes him feel irritated, even though he tries to remain calm at all time. "Although, it would be beneficial if you sent them over sooner than later."

Hattori lets out a sigh, "What'dya want then?"

"Early this morning, Kudo-kun and Kaito KID escaped from prison." Saguru doesn't think that sugarcoating it will be effective, not with something like this, so he tells it straight. "The police are currently going crazy over it."

"He what?" There's disbelief there, but Saguru can hear something else mixed in alongside it. He's unsure whether it's relief or confusion, but it's certainly something. It's probably nothing important though, and Saguru files it away so that he can think about it later, when he's dealt with more serious things.

"They escaped." Saguru repeats, ignoring Hattori's response of 'oh shit' as he glances up at the clock. They need the solitary files - if only because it gives a clear idea of how they'd been acting during their imprisonment, detailed reports giving them a pattern of behaviour to look out for.

Saguru doesn't really know how to feel about the fact that both teenagers have found themselves confined in solitary. He's read up on the effects of solitary confinement in the past and... it makes him nervous to think what it must have been like.

"Wait," Hattori says before Saguru can speak again. "Are ya sure you ain't pullin' my leg, it's not in the news of anythin'."

Saguru pinches the bridge of his nose. While he knows that it's not a stupid question - a smart one actually, considering the dislike they share - he doesn't really have the patience to explain fully. Instead, he says, "the police want to hold off on letting the public know. They don't want to cause a panic."

"I see..." Hattori says, and in the background, he can hear muffled movement, "we'll 'ave ta find 'em before the newspapers catch on then."

Saguru glances over at Aoko - the smile she sends him is smug, is clearly a non-verbal version of 'I-told-you-he'd-help'.

"That'd be great, so those files-"

"I'll bring 'em with me," Hattori says. Saguru can hear footsteps against a hollow staircase, echoing through the speaker, but he doesn't comment on them, waits instead for the Osakan to explain what he means. "You gonna be at the station in a few hours still? Or do ya wanna meet somewhere else?"

"Hattori-kun is coming to Tokyo?" Aoko asks, and if Hattori is alarmed by her voice, he doesn't let it show. He's probably heard the static of the speaker phone and realised there were other people with him.

"Yeah," Hattori says, "Kudo's probably gonna try to visit that nee-chan - er, his girlfriend - right? I imagine he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see her before disappearin' for good, ya know?"

Saguru bites his lip. He hadn't thought of that. He's never thought of Kudo as a very sentimental person, but from the amount of visits he'd had with Ran - it'd be stupid to think he'd be able to throw their bond away without so much as saying goodbye.

"It's certainly a possibility," Saguru says, glancing at over at Ran. She sends him a tight smile; He wonders whether the possibility of Shinichi being caught again will be due to her, and whether Ran herself is worrying about the idea of being his downfall. "We're still waiting on some files from the prison, so we'll probably still be here if you take the train..."

"Good," Hattori says, "text if anythin' changes, 'kay?"

"Okay."

The phone line goes dead.

When he turns to the others, they are wearing a mixture of emotions. Ran's face is worried, lines spreading across her forehead, fingers rubbing at her ear as she rereads the files they've been given. Aoko's expression however, is still morphed into a smug glee.

"See, Aoko told you that it'd be a good idea to talk to Hattori-kun about the case."

Saguru isn't so sure.

Nara Station - 11.19 a.m

"For the record," Shinichi mutters, "this is a bad idea."

Glancing around the train station, wearing the disguise of a woman in her early twenties, Kaito nods. Hair tickles his neck, from the wig he'd been brought, brown curls bouncing against the dress he's wearing. There was a time when Kaito would have been self-conscious about walking around in women's clothing, but years of being KID has made it seem like second nature.

Beside him, Shinichi is wearing a suit - a man in his late twenties, black hair - looking very put out in the large area they're standing in.

"Yeah," Kaito says, shrugging his shoulders. "But, we'll be fine."

Shinichi sends him an incredulous look, eyebrows raised, face pale. Despite his disguise including a change in skin tone - something Kaito had insisted was necessary if Shinichi wanted to remain dressed as a man - the nervous sheen to his skin makes it seem counterproductive.

"We're three minutes away from a police station," Shinichi hisses as they make their way to the vending machines, lining up to buy tickets. "When I say this is a bad idea, I mean it's really bad."

Kaito turns back to Shinichi, gives him a look that tells him that he should shut up, before stepping forward to buy tickets. Shinichi follows behind him, hovering as Kaito presses the ticket that will take them to Shinagawa station in Tokyo.

"Listen," Kaito says, "you didn't think it was a bad idea when we were talking with Hattori about it. So calm down, and act like we're meant to be here."

"But we're not meant to be here."

Kaito sends him a look. He's lucky that Heiji had thought ahead to withdraw enough for their tickets, because right now they're relying on him for funding. Well - it's not like they're going to be able to take money out of their own accounts without it raising alerts to the police.

He's got fake bank accounts with alias' at some of his safe houses though - if they can get to one that's not been discovered by the police, they'll be given a network for money. Figuring out which safe houses have been found though... it's another task they've given to Hattori.

Kaito almost feels guilty.

Almost.

"We're not meant to be anywhere but our cell." Kaito waves the comment away. "But you said it yourself, we need to get to Tokyo to get your files, right? The train is the quickest way there."

He collects the tickets when they're printed off, and pockets them in his jacket pocket. Then, he pivots on heels, turning to face Shinichi, pulling him along by his hand, sparing him a toothy grin.

"They'll expect us to take the train." Shinichi protests, although his expression morphs to something more confident as they continue walking. It's almost as if he's started to adopt the role of his disguise, the details Kaito had given him being emphasised through relaxed shoulders and a heavy footed walk.

Kaito wags his finger. He says, "no they won't. They'll expect us to try and blend in with all the other cars travelling during Golden week. Hattori told us that they've set a checkpoint on the Tomei expressway checking all the vehicles for us. They're not looking at the trains right now."

Shinichi retaliates with a groan.

Kaito can't help but think that maybe the ex-detective places too much hope on the police force. In Kaito's experience, they're not exactly the... brightest police force he's come across.

"And even if they do look at the trains," Kaito chirps, as they make their way down to the platform. The next train is scheduled to show in fifteen minutes, and Kaito wants to be early, "it's not like they'll be able to pick out the disguises."

"Didn't they check your disguises by pinching at your cheeks?" Shinichi mutters.

Kaito brushes curls from his face, turns to look at the other man. His eyes glisten with something similar to mischief, a playful smile gracing his face, his cheeks dimpled as he snickers.

"Why do you think we've used glue today? There's no pulling these off without a huge tub of vaseline, and a lot of soapy water."

Shinichi laugh is more alarmed than amused. He raises an eyebrow, and shakes his head. "You're an idiot."

"Let's just get on the train."

[lisatelramor]

NLTSA Extra: Phantom Lady with Vermouth

Takes place before ch 18′s events.

Kuroba Chikage had visited cities around the world in her lifetime, seeing some of the most beautiful places of human creation and some of its worst and seediest underbellies. Chicago was neither the best nor the worst of these cities, but it did have some pretty views and architecture. From her hotel room, she could look out over the Chicago river; it was especially pretty lit up at night, lights glinting off shifting waters and along the underside of bridges. She always did like cityscapes though. It didn’t have the romantic charm of Paris or the dazzling neon of Vegas, but she’d take Chicago in early summer over Orlando this time of year.

Chikage watched the river lights now, little moving ones of the ferries on the water, and the blur of cars going about their business. So many people, so many of them unaware of crimes happening right under their noses, maybe even right at that very moment. Chicago might not be the crime capitol of America, but it was one of the prime locations for crime hubs, being smack in the middle of North America, close enough to Canada for crime to hop borders and stop in on its way elsewhere, or link between the east and west coasts. A perfect foothold for an underground organization to set down roots in to better spread tendrils. They were planted a bit over a decade ago, and Chikage had kept an eye on their growth since not long after its inception.

It was about time that that growth could be tapped again for new information.

The click of the electric lock on the hotel room door interrupted her quiet contemplation. A brunette carrying two large paper bags shouldered into the room moments later, the keycard dangling from her fingertips.

“You wouldn’t believe how busy it is out there right now,” the woman said, kicking off tennis shoes that matched her grey and pink jogging suit. “You’d think it was a holiday, but it’s already past July fourth.”

“Chris,” Chikage said in greeting. She took one of the offered bags. Predictably, it had a large salad from a nearby restaurant.

“I think I passed two different groups out on bachelorette parties,” Chris Vineyard continued. She tugged at her hair, pulling off the brown wig she’d taken to wearing for this operation. “Want to go out and join them? I think they’re drunk enough that a couple of strange women would fit right in.” Tossing the wig aside, she pulled a bottle of wine and two boxes out of the other bag. “I got a nice white wine and some tiramisu from that Italian place you like. I’ve been told the dessert’s on the boozy side.”

“That kind of defeats the point of getting a salad,” Chikage pointed out.

“We only live once!” Chris said, tossing herself into one of the hotel armchairs. Her sock feet kicked up on the windowsill. “Besides, you both know we’ll be working it off soon enough anyway.”

“You always say that,” Chikage said. Her smile belied her words though. “Did you finish everything you needed to do?”

“Completely done,” Chris said. She pulled a wine opener from somewhere and got to work on the bottle. Chikage fetched them glasses and forks, both taken from earlier room service calls that week and hoarded for future use. “Everything is prepared to get us in and out of the building in two days. Their security is pathetic. We should have an easy time with this one.”

“Wonderful.” Chikage would take easy. They’d had more than enough close calls over the years that easy would be a fucking vacation. “That makes just one more run and I can go home for a bit. It feels like ages since I’ve been in Japan.”

“Can you call it home when you’re never there?” Chris asked, a slanted smile on her face. Chikage rolled her eyes. “Just saying. You’re with me more than you’re at the Japan home these days.”

“I own it, it has my belongings in it, I raised my son in it and lived half a dozen years with my husband there. It’s still home.” The wine was dry, more to Chris’s taste than Chikage’s, but the fruitiness of it came through pleasantly enough. It went well with the strawberries and pecans in the salad. “Just because you gave up the concept of home that doesn’t mean I have.”

“Mm, maybe my concept of home is more a person than a place,” Chris said lazily. She stole a bit of salad off Chikage’s fork.

A decade ago it would have been flustering, but by now it only made Chikage feel fondly exasperated. “Use your own fork.” Chris stole the whole salad instead. She was terrible, Chikage thought. Terrible, horrible, and dangerous as hell, and Chikage wouldn’t have anyone else at her back. “Kaito’s been in all kinds of trouble since I left.”

“Is this including getting his arms cut up or the heavy landing he took at the last heist?”

“Mm, either. I’m more thinking about the company he’s keeping honestly.”

“Right, a detective.” Chris sipped at her wine, lounging like a jungle cat and twice as lethal if she wanted to be. “And not Cool Guy.” She sighed.  “They would have made such a dynamic team if they’d ever got their shit together.”

Chikage shrugged, having mixed feelings about that. While Yuusaku and Yukiko’s son was a good person, she’d heard enough about Kaito’s close calls with him to feel comfortable with the thought. That was part of her hesitation with Hakuba Saguru, no matter how polite he had been in the phone conversation they had a few weeks ago. Chikage could still remember him facing off against Kaito when they were teenagers; she wasn’t going to say anything to Kaito or Hakuba, but she could worry about potential betrayal. “Did I go wrong somewhere?” Chikage mused. “He marries a police officer and makes friends with detectives. Is he just attracted to people with strong moral compasses? Is it the uniforms? Enjoys mind games?”

Chris laughed. “Well, I imagine it would be easy to fall into role play...”

“Stop. I am not going to think that hard about my son’s sex life.”

“You brought it up,” Chris said, hiding another smile in her wine glass.

“Yes. Well.” She waved a hand. “I find it a bit worrying that the people he gets attached to always seem to be the ones who are in positions to hurt him worst. I don’t care if Hakuba Saguru is retired, you don’t turn that sort of skill off.” Not thieving, not detective work, and it wasn’t like Chris could turn off the part of her that looked for weaknesses and places that would cause the most damage. It was how they were wired even if they quit the business. Chikage took a decade off from theft and look at her now; skills still sharp as she prepared to break into a building for information that wasn’t hers.

“If he meant to turn him in, he’d have done it by now,” Chris said, entirely unconcerned. But she’d said the same about Aoko after the divorce, so it was probably true.

Chikage’s phone pinged with an incoming text and she leaned toward the bed stand to get it. “Speaking of Kaito...” The text was just a date and time with a question as to if she would be home by then. It was less than two weeks away. “He has the date of his next heist.”

“Oh?” Chris leaned over. “Hm. That’s around when we have that time sensitive thing in—”

“New York,” Chikage finished. Her nails clicked on the phone casing as she drummed her fingers. Chris rescued Chikage’s wine before her lax grip on it let the glass slide from her hand. Chikage pressed the call button. If Kaito was awake to text, he was awake to call.

“Hi, Kaito?” she said as he picked up. “How likely are you to need me for the heist?” Chris stole bits of salad as Chikage listened to Kaito’s response; the usual downplaying of his need for help. That didn’t really make her feel any better about the situation. Kaito would say he could handle it eight out of ten times, even if he had his back to a wall with a gun pointed at him. The only time he asked for help was if he truly didn’t feel he had a chance to pull a heist off alone or she caught him at just the right moment and mindset for him to admit the reality of what he had planned and where it would benefit from another set of hands. “No, no, I’m asking because I need to know if I should try to move up my schedule.”

Another deflection. Chikage bit her lip and caught Chris’s eye. Chris raised one manicured eyebrow.

How likely is it to move things up? Chikage mouthed.

Chris shrugged and wiggled her hand, open palm down. Fifty-fifty.

Not good enough. But if they passed up New York, they would be passing up one of the current largest international hub points for the organization, and Chikage hadn’t managed to get anything vital from there when she tried alone five years ago. With Chris, with their informant ready to abandon their position as soon as the transfer of information was complete—or as soon as their escape plan came into effect and they became a veritable ghost—there was a huge chance at hitting the largest vital info tap this decade. This could be the one that got what they finally needed to tear the whole place apart from the inside out.

“I’m not sure I can make it,” Chikage said, hating herself just a bit. Her son was brilliant, but he was one man. Toichi had been one man once, but even Toichi had had Chikage and Jii at his back. All it took was one moment for everything to go wrong and she knew that. If Kaito wanted, no, needed her there, she’d be there, operation be damned because she might not protest his risks, but she wanted him to live to see old age too. She couldn’t lose him when she’d lost Toichi.

Kaito chattered on in her ear about his preparations and how he had everything more or less ready to go already and really, he’d be fine. He didn’t ask her to come. Chikage wasn’t sure he would ask if he really did need her anymore though. Things like that kept her awake at night. It was nights after she stole information that she slept the best, because those were the days she knew she’d done something to strike out at the shadow looming over them.

“Ok, Kaito,” she said finally, aware of Chris watching and the way a hotel room, no matter how nice, could never quite feel like home. “If something changes, I’ll let you know. Be careful.”

When Chikage hung up the phone, Chris handed her the salad and the glass of wine, filled over the usual amount.

“He’s a smart kid,” Chris offered like smarts would be enough.

Chikage took a large swallow of wine. “We need to push up the dates. As much as we can.”

Chris sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

The happy mood from earlier was gone; the wine left a sour taste at the back of Chikage’s throat.

***

They’d tried to move up New York. Tried being key, because everything had gone to hell complete with flames. Chris was injured, bleeding from a bullet graze on her thigh, and some idiot had managed to set the lab on fire in the rush to catch intruders.

They were two days behind the original planned schedule, down an informant, and caught in a building that was quickly becoming a hazard. Chikage was going to shoot whoever they came across next, consequences be damned.

“You would think,” Chris said, “that they would be more worried about getting out of the building than catching us.”

Around them the fire alarm flashed and blared high pitched shrieks. It made stealth easier, but that was a two-edged sword when it meant they could be snuck up on.

“You’d think,” Chikage agreed, gritting her teeth. On the other side of the globe, her son was starting his day, about to go into a risky endeavor and there was no way at all she was going to be able watch his back now. If only they’d been able to pull off Chicago as easily as it seemed. If only their informant hadn’t pushed the date back. If only he hadn’t ended up dead, but those were just a few more ‘if only’s to add to a lifetime of them. Chikage couldn’t get bogged down by could-have-beens when there was enough now to drown in. “Do you think you can get anything from that computer in the corner or should we just call everything a wash and try to get out in one piece?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Chris said, tossing her head. The effect was ruined by how sweat made her hair stick to her face, but Chikage could appreciate the intent. They weren’t quite out of luck yet.

Chikage took the door while Chris took the computer.  Chris was better with them than Chikage, but they both knew how to hack. The program in Chris’s flash drive circumnavigated the firewall easily enough. If only there wasn’t the actual fire encroaching on them. Smoke fizzled under the doorway in hazy eddies. “I am too old for this,” Chikage muttered to herself. The scientists must have evacuated from this part of the lab. Between the fire alarm and the earlier fighting, she didn’t blame them.

There was movement in the hallway, a man with a gun, but he kept walking past the closed lab door, probably thinking they’d continued on in an effort to escape. That or he was running from the fire like a sane person.

“We’re going to die of smoke inhalation, not even something exciting.”

“Quit being dramatic,” Chris said, typing away. “I think I can get something from here. It’s not going to be as big as what we wanted; this is only a research terminal, not an upper management computer, but it will be something. There are probably human testing trials in here somewhere.”

“Something to get more investigating done on this place at any rate. That’s more than we had before.”

“Good enough.” Chris glanced at the smoke curling under the door and back at the monitor. “Give me five minutes.”

“Might not have that long,” Chikage said, voice tight. Flames licked the end of the hallway from what she could see in the small door window. It was getting hard to breathe and the temperature was rapidly rising. There was smoke starting to filter down from the air vents too... “Fuck, Chris I think it’s spreading faster through the air ducts.”

Chris didn’t answer. Her lips were white where they pressed together. Chikage hoped she’d be able to run on that leg injury.

There was an ominous creaking sound from further in the building.

“And we are going to have to go. I think something’s caving in.”

“Not yet,” Chris snapped. “If I don’t get something then what’s the point of all of this?”

“There’s no point at all if we don’t live to see another day,” Chikage reminded her, already abandoning the door to hustle closer. There was a second door that led to an adjacent room, and they’d have to take that door and hope the hallway was marginally clearer there. “Come on.”

“A few more seconds,” Chris said, stubborn to the end.

The ceiling groaned, smoke from the vents making the room start to go hazy.

“Now,” Chikage said, grabbing Chris’s arm.

Chris hit one last key and snatched the flash drive from the tower. “It’ll be what it’ll be, let’s go.”

Chikage dragged her through the door. The next room was marginally less smoky, but not by much. “There’s still some flames in the hall,” she said. Damn.

“Not like we have a choice.”

“They’re going to be waiting for us outside.”

Chris grinned like that was a challenge. Of course she did. She plucked an explosive from her pocket, more bang and smoke than destruction, but their thoughts were in the same direction.

“They’re looking for two women,” Chikage said.

“So we disappear in the chaos.”

Plan settled, they darted out into the hallway. Heat battered at them and smoke choked the air even as they moved almost bent in half. They ran. Chris threw her bomb. Screams sounded and the building groaned and crackled where places collapsed behind them. This plan, at least, went off without a hitch.

***

In the end, they were both covered in bruises, suffering minor smoke inhalation problems, and Chris had picked up another bullet graze in the chaos. Chikage bandaged her in an apartment building stairwell a long ways away from their hotel room. It wasn’t safe to go back there yet, not when they didn’t know whether that had been compromised or not. It was hours since the burning building and it would be hours more before Chikage could get to her phone to check her messages. There was nothing that could be done about it, so Chikage didn’t let herself think about anything more than what was in front of her.

In front of her was Chris, face pinched with discomfort, a slapdash med-kit gathered from three different drug stores, and a quick-mart bag of granola bars and water to tide their stomachs over.

Chris turned the flash drive of data she’d gotten around and around in her palm. Disappointed. They both were disappointed. “Should have expected things would go that bad,” Chris sighed.

Chikage smeared antibiotic ointment into the bullet graze on Chris’s thigh. “We can’t plan for everything no matter how hard we try. I admit I wasn’t expecting our inside man to suicide...”

“Is it suicide when he was cornered?” Chris said. She clicked her tongue and tucked the flash drive away. He irritated expression didn’t change even as Chikage started winding bandages around her thigh, holding a gauze pad in place. “I guess that’s one more time New York won. Hopefully the data we got will be useful to someone. It’s enough to get the...FBI? CIA? Who handles something like human experimentation in the US?” She shrugged. “Someone can use it and it’s a foot in the door for having a reason to check into every nook and cranny that facility has. Who knows, maybe the fire helped too.”

“They’ll have all the local authorities in their pocket and you know it,” Chikage muttered.

“I was trying for optimism,” Chris said. She caught Chikage’s hands as she finished tying off the bandage. “Let me get your scrapes. I noticed that burn on your arm too.”

Chikage held still and let her. Nothing hurt badly, but there wasn’t really a reason to court infection. “Can we call today a wash and go find somewhere to sleep before breaking into our own hotel room?”

“I can do the breaking in if you’d like. Give you a rest.”

“Chris, you’re hurt worse than I am,” Chikage said.  “I just want to sleep, then check my phone for Kaito’s post-heist message, and a stairwell isn’t prime sleeping space.” Especially not when she was past fifty. Aging sucked. Meanwhile Chris barely aged at all thanks to some chemical cocktail experiment she’d been part of years ago. An experiment that lingered in some of the things they stole, not that Chris had been with that group since the major split and definitely not since her branch of it had been busted by Yukiko’s kid. Immortality was an overrated concept and the realities that had come out of searching for it weren’t as ideal as their creators would have desired.

“Fine, fine.” Chris sighed. “The mail box for apartment 324 looked like it was overflowing. Either the owner went on a trip and forgot to stop their mail, or they’re dead. Either way their apartment is someplace to sleep.”

“Really, Chris?”

“You’re not that squeamish about corpses.”

“But we could walk right into a crime scene. Or they could just chronically forget their mail.”

“I’ll take that risk,” Chris said. She stood, stiffly, her injuries apparent now that she wasn’t running anymore. She offered Chikage a hand.

Chikage took it. “I guess we could always gas the owner and find a nice closet to hole up in,” she muttered. “But if there is a corpse in there I swear to god I am not following whatever next impulsive choice you make.”

“It’s not impulse, it’s calculation. And my calculation is that we both need some fucking sleep.”

***

Almost twelve hours later, Chikage dragged herself from a stolen apartment bed to drink from a kitchen faucet and raid poorly stocked cupboards. Then she dragged Chris from where she slept like the dead and moved them both out of the apartment. Besides the missing food and blankets that carried a bit of their scent, they left no evidence behind; the apartment owner (who thankfully hadn’t been a dead body in a corner) probably wouldn’t even notice they’d been there.

“All things considered,” Chris said as they made their way back to their hotel room—disguised of course—“it’s pretty unlikely that they found where we were staying. We didn’t check in as ourselves or wear our faces on the job.”

“But they know our methods by this point, so better safe than sorry.” An empty hotel hallway, a swipe of the keycard to get in their empty room. Chikage checked for traps or signs that the room was bugged. All she found was their own surveillance equipment and a phone charger someone must have forgotten shoved between the wall and the mattress.  

“I’d say you’re paranoid, but I’m also paranoid,” Chris said. Her wounds didn’t seem to bother her much, but they never did.

Chikage thought it was another side effect of the experiments; her own bruises were settling into the deep purple phase where even moving sent twinges of discomfort shooting through her. As Chris moved to her laptop to start going through the data they’d stolen, Chikage went for her phone.

There were four messages there and one voicemail. None of the messages were from Kaito. Chikage closed her eyes. A part of her that felt like it had been battered too many times braced for the worst. She’d lost her husband. She’d lost friends and her parents. That deep part of her wavered, unsure if losing her son would finally make her break.

She listened to the voicemail first.

“Chikage-basan,” Aoko’s voice said, sounding exhausted and strained. “There was an accident at the heist. Accident... Well. Attack. A bomb went off at the museum and according to eye witness reports, Kid’s glider went down during his escape. I don’t think it was a dummy, but I was stuck dealing with the bomb aftermath and a panicked crowd so I don’t know yet what happened... Shit. Sorry.” Her voice broke on the other end. “I’m heading home but I had to call. I’ll message or call when I learn more.”

The line beeped, asking what she wanted to do with the message. Chikage hung up. The call was from four hours ago. The most recent text was...two hours ago. There were several from Aoko, the first essentially the same as her phone message, the second a panicked one about Takumi not being home, and a third stating that Takumi was with Hakuba and the two of them had seen Kid shot down and helped him. Kaito was alive—Chikage’s knees went weak reading the words—but injured.

She closed her eyes and breathed. She didn’t break.

The last message was from Hakuba, strictly to the point. It gave a list of Kaito’s injuries and assurance that he was being cared for, though outside of a hospital. He didn’t say where Kaito was at—understandable; texting was possible to track—but she could probably narrow it down. All she had to do was get back to Japan, then figure out where Kaito was, and then see him face to face to assure herself that yes, her son wasn’t dead. No, he hadn’t been taken like Toichi and Jii.  Her hands gripped her phone so tight she half thought she’d shatter her screen.

“`Kage?” Chris asked, the usually lighthearted nickname sharp with concern.

“Kaito’s still alive, but he was hurt bad. Badly enough he didn’t send his post-heist text and if he was anyone else he’d probably have a broken neck or be a smear on the pavement.” Her legs did give out then, and she crouched on the floor, lungs tight, as Chris abandoned her laptop in favor of taking Chikage’s hands in hers. “Shit, Chris.” There’d been dozens of close calls over the years. Dozens. It didn’t get easier. It didn’t feel any less like she’d missed a step going down the stairs, heart still catching up with the fact that she didn’t fall. “I should have been there. I could have done something.”

“Or they could have done the exact same thing and you could both be hurt,” Chris said, voice even and blank. No emotion, while Chikage was too full of it right now.  “If you went it would have been me going alone into New York, and then I’d be worse off or dead, and we might have had nothing.”

“I know.” She did know, rationally, that her presence wasn’t likely to have changed much. Or maybe they’d have both been targets. Or maybe not. But she could have been there, perhaps could have helped Kaito get to safety firsthand. She took another breath. No, there was no point to what ifs since it wasn’t what was. She’d learned that with Toichi, and learned it again when she found out Jii had been killed. The dead were past helping and so she’d just have to focus on the positive fact that Kaito was still alive. “I have to get back to Japan.”

Chris gave her hands a squeeze. “You sit here and breathe. I can take care of the details for that.”

“I can’t just sit here, I need to do something!”

“Then breathe and get your shit together. Literal and metaphorical.”

“Fuck you, Chris,” Chikage said, but there was no bite in it.

Chris smirked and headed back to her laptop. “Shoo. I’ve got this.”

“Ugh. This had to happen while I was in New York. Why couldn’t it be Vegas? Or San Diego?” That was hours and hours of time that would be lost in layovers and flight transfers and getting across a continent before she could even consider getting across the ocean.

“Breathe,” Chris reminded her, typing rapidly. “I’m glad your kid didn’t die.”

“I’m too old for this shit,” Chikage said. She made her legs work and walked over to her suitcase. It was mostly still packed, but she started tossing every item that was hers within an arm’s reach into it.

“You’re not even sixty yet.”

“Too. Old.” There was no age that losing her son wouldn’t be devastating. They might only spend time together sporadically, but he was Kaito, her Kaito, and he always would be.

“You have a flight in three hours to Chicago and a connecting flight to California. It’s a hop to Hawaii, then Japan. That’s the best I could do for short notice.”

Chikage scrunched a shirt in her fists. Breathe. “Thanks, Chris.”

“Any time,” Chris said. “Always.”

Someday maybe Chikage would be able to believe in an always. Chris, with her unchanging nature and appearance was about as close to a constant as Chikage had. Chikage breathed and finished packing her bags. She had a plane to catch.

[lisatelramor]

NLTSA Extra: Dinner With the Kurobas

Set right after the end of chapter 13 when Kaito invites Saguru over for dinner.

Cooking with Kuroba was...different. As Saguru chopped a growing pile of vegetables and Kuroba put on rice and sliced meat to cook, he couldn’t help comparing it to cooking with Mel. Mel had more of a tendency to shoo Saguru off to the side and take over with micromanaging tendencies in the kitchen though. Kuroba didn’t seem to care that Saguru’s knife skills were less than perfect so long as everything got chopped in more or less similar sizes.

“So you cook,” Saguru said, as Kuroba began mixing up a sauce to go over the meal they were making.

“Obviously,” Kuroba said. “I don’t cook a lot because I’m on the go all the time—easier to just grab something while I’m out—but I’ve lived on my own for years. I’ve been cooking since I was in middle school whenever Kaa-chan took trips. You can cook too.”

“Poorly. Enough to survive off of.” Saguru finished slicing the last of the vegetables as Kuroba tossed the meat into hot oil, using long cooking chopsticks to keep it moving and cooking evenly. “Nothing special.”

“Cooking’s not your thing then?”

“No, that was always Mel’s thing,” Saguru said. Kuroba made an enquiring hum, reaching over to take Saguru’s cutting board and add the vegetables to the mix. Saguru watched, reminded of all the times he’d seen Mel wielding a wooden spoon with similar focus. “He liked to plan meals and try new things and I was always the boring one who would just make a roast and have it for the week if left to my own devices.”

“By roast, do you mean you just cooked a plain slab of meat and ate it?”

“Essentially, yes. Usually you cook it with carrots or potatoes and cabbage.”

Kuroba gave Saguru a flat look. “No offense but that sounds bland as hell.”

Saguru chuckled. “Yes, well, that’s traditional British cooking for you. Bland, and steamed, roasted or boiled. I can cook more than just sticking meat in the oven or boiling pasta.”

“I’d hope so. You wouldn’t have much variety otherwise.” Kuroba flicked his wrist, tossing the pan’s contents around a bit before adding the sauce. It hissed, bubbling and boiling quickly into a thick, sticky coating. “Set the table for me? There’s plates in that cupboard, cups in the one next to it, and chopsticks in the drawer to the right of the sink. I can handle the rice bowls.”

Saguru set the table diligently, putting Kuroba’s generic dishware with its simple floral pattern on the table at three places.

Kuroba was just filling bowls with rice as Saguru put glasses of water around the table when the front door opened. Takumi’s greeting carried in before he was even through the door. “Welcome back,” Kuroba called, filling the last bowl. “Hakuba’s joining us for dinner.”

“Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi poked his head around the entryway. He had his lacrosse uniform still on and a heavy sports bag over one shoulder, which he set down next to the pile of shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought it might be nice to have company,” Kuroba said cheerfully. “How was practice?”

“Fine. I think I’ll make an alternate this year if I can get my aim just a little better. Or if someone gets injured.” Takumi scrunched his nose. “Which hopefully won’t happen.” He wandered over to the sink to wash his hands, giving Saguru a tiny nod like he wasn’t sure what the polite thing to do was when a teacher was unexpectedly in his home. They’d shared tea and stories often enough that it wasn’t too awkward though. “Kei-kun and Mirai-senpai said they’d help me work on some techniques next week though so I can be ready for the summer tournaments.”

“You’ll have to give me a list of game dates. I’ll try to make a few over the summer.”

“Sure. Oh, and I have a group report in History, so I have to meet up tomorrow with a few classmates. It shouldn’t take too long though, so we can still work on the thing with the doves you wanted to show me. It’ll just have to be in the evening.”

“I’ll make plans to have dinner at Obaa-san’s house then.”

Kuroba and Takumi moved around each other with the ease of people who shared a kitchen space frequently. Takumi even grabbed the last rice bowl to take to the table in the absentminded sort of way of habit, used to helping set the table then. Saguru felt a little out of place. He didn’t know where to sit, and surely the Kurobas had their preferred places.

Takumi solved that problem, plopping into the chair at the setting missing its rice, and Kuroba sat on the other side. It left Saguru sitting next to Kuroba.

Takumi took one look at the stir fry with the thin sliced pork stir fried in it and gave Kuroba a glowing smile. “I am so hungry after practice and this so beats the usual Friday night combini meal.”

“I’m not that bad am I?” Kuroba asked.

“About cooking?” Takumi picked up his chopsticks. “You save your cooking energy for Saturday, but nine times out of ten, Friday ends up a convenience store meal. I don’t mind, but you made ginger pork stir fry. This is great.”

“I really can and do cook,” Kuroba said, giving Saguru a serious look that almost hid the glimmer of humor in his eyes. “You’d think I only ever feed him onigiri and takeaway.”

“You’re a good cook, but Kaa-san’s tonkatsu still beats yours,” Takumi said. “Now can we please eat? I just spent more than an hour running around with a stick. I am starving.”

“We should make him wait,” Kuroba said in a loud whisper to Saguru. Takumi gave his father a betrayed look.

Saguru rolled his eyes. “As the guest, I think we should eat.”

“If you say so. Itadakimasu!” Kuroba said, cheerfully clapping his hands together. He didn’t let on that his ribs were bruised at all, not when cooking and not now as he leaned over to dish out food. It was both impressive and unnerving, because it left the question of if Saguru had missed other injuries in the past just because Kuroba was that good of an actor.

Takumi echoed Kuroba and dug into his food the second his plate was filled. Saguru took his time in comparison as Kuroba launched into an explanation of his current work project, his coworker’s lives, and various neighborhood gossip between bites of food, all unprompted. Takumi threw in a question here or there that showed he was both listening and knew who Kuroba was talking about. Saguru let the chatter wash over him, content to listen. It was a bit like family meals when he and Mel used to visit Mum, only with less pointed comments in his direction to engage him in the conversation. It used to exasperate them whenever Saguru sat back and listened; they could never quite get that sometimes he just liked to watch two people he cared deeply about interacting. It was a little different now, of course, more seeing sides to Kuroba and Takumi he hadn’t seen before, but the feeling was similar.

It was a bit of a bittersweet feeling in that similarity... Saguru turned his attention to his plate, pushing that emotion away.

“—Hakuba-sensei?” Takumi’s voice registered.

Saguru glanced up and found both Kurobas looking at him, heads tilted to the side like mirror images. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I just asked how your day went,” Takumi said. “You had Mai-chan and Hanasaki-san from class C get into an argument in your last English class, right?”

“Yes.” The day was a haze, all caught up in worry but that had happened. “To be honest it barely interrupted the class. I sent them in the hall and kept teaching.”

“...Wouldn’t they just keep arguing in the hall?” Takumi asked.

“So long as they weren’t being a disruption, I could have cared less at that moment.”

Takumi snorted. “I can half picture it—no wonder people in class C weren’t sure what to think of it. Usually you stop, give a warning or something and mark your book, and start back up again. Aren’t teachers supposed to care when that kind of thing happens?”

“Everyone has off days. Honestly, I couldn’t be less interested in knowing who was angry at whom over some romantic interest that likely has no interest in either of them.”

“Hakuba, you mean to say you ignore the gossip mill?” Kuroba said, mock-scandalized.

“I hear it whether I want to or not,” Saguru said drily, “so no, I suppose I do not ignore it.”

“Teachers follow the gossip mill?” Takumi asked.

“Of course. Teachers gossip just as much as their student body.”

“More, if half of what I hear is true,” Kuroba said, amused.

Saguru bet he meant Erika. Their old homeroom teacher had to be one of Kuroba’s sources. Saguru was still trying to figure out all of them, but he supposed Takumi could possibly count as another.

“I’ve been in that gossip,” Takumi said with a deeply uncomfortable expression. “What do they think of me? Holy crap, I just realized teachers might talk about me when I’m not there.”

“And students talk about their teachers all the time,” Saguru said, wondering how on earth this could be news.

“They know about my life and they might talk about it.” Takumi sat back in his chair like he was having a revelation. Saguru exchanged a glance with Kuroba. Kuroba looked far too amused. “That is extremely weird, especially because I know almost nothing about my teachers. Except for you, Hakuba-sensei.”

“That is normal. We’re at school to do our jobs and be professional. You’re at school to learn and be yourselves.”

“But you’re people.”

“Yes.”

“Of course you’re people, ignore that.” He waved a hand, erasing his words in a gesture. “I know teachers have outside lives, but I’ve never really thought about it. What do they do at the end of the day? What do they do in their free time? Why do they willingly teach the mess that is high school, I mean...why?”

Saguru couldn’t help laughing. “You know, it’s not much different from our students. We go home, deal with homework, and sometimes we even see friends or do things that might be considered fun by the majority of the population.” Saguru took a sip of water and added, “Although as to why, I can’t say with full certainty that all teachers aren’t somewhat drawn to things that will give them headaches. Or at least that’s true in my case.”

Kuroba laughed at that, catching his eye and no doubt thinking of Saguru’s old habit of pitting himself against Kid despite never truly gaining the upper hand. “You’re all a little bit masochistic?” There was a teasing lilt to that that had a blush crawling across Saguru’s cheeks before he could fully control his reaction. Kuroba looked terribly smug, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Takumi’s face scrunched in disgust. “Ew. No. Stop and don’t even bring that word up.”

“I didn’t say they are masochists just that they have a trend toward—”

“No.” Takumi jabbed his chopsticks in Kuroba’s direction. “I’m going to need brain bleach.”

Saguru cleared his throat, pushing the blush down. “More honestly, I like seeing people grow into their potential,” Saguru offered, nudging the conversation back to a safe track. “High school is where interests are being discovered and dreams take first steps.”

“Huh.” Takumi glanced at Saguru and away again just as fast. “Makes sense I guess.”

“You always did look for the good sides in people,” Kuroba said.

“I feel like nostalgia gives me too much credit; I liked understanding, but whether or not I empathized with them was an entirely different story.” He hadn’t exactly been empathetic toward Kuroba’s situation back then, at least not at first. Saguru finished the last of his food. Kuroba was a decent cook. It was certainly better than anything Saguru had made since moving to Japan. “Thank you for the meal.”

“You don’t want more?” Kuroba had the rice paddle in hand, ready to scoop out more if Saguru wanted, but Saguru declined the offer with a shake of his head.

“I’m full.” Both Kurobas looked at him like they thought he should eat more. Kuroba added another scoop of rice to his own bowl, perhaps trying to prove some convoluted point. Or maybe he was just still hungry. Not everything was a mind game to be read into. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“You barely ate enough then,” Kuroba said, “considering how much running around you did.”

“I don’t do much running at all now, so I don’t need seconds.” Takumi’s eyes flicked toward Saguru’s cane and away. Kuroba just kept up eye contact until Saguru rolled his eyes and held out his rice bowl. “Fine, but not much. I really am full.” Feeding people had to be a thing with Kuroba. Between the random gifts of food and how he seemed to enjoy seasonal food items to their fullest, food had some meaning in Kuroba’s personal interactions. Saguru could eat a bit more if it made Kuroba stop giving him a look that resembled some of the looks he’d gotten from his mother in the last year. “I do feed myself on a regular basis, Kuroba.”

“You make one meal for the week and pack sandwiches and salads for lunches,” Kuroba said.

“It’s efficient.”

“It’s boring. You don’t even order out.”

“It cuts costs to prepare your own food.”

“Since when is money an issue?”

Kuroba had him there, it really wasn’t an issue. “It’s financially responsible.”

“It’s bo-ring,” Kuroba repeated. “And you can’t be getting all your vitamins and minerals when you eat pasta for a week straight.”

Saguru chose to be the adult here and ignore him instead of continuing a pointless argument. Even if it was Kuroba teasing him. He could see that smirk twitching at the corner of Kuroba’s lips. Saguru finished the extra rice with pointed silence.

Takumi helped himself to thirds.

“So, while Takumi’s doing the dishes—” Kuroba said.

“Hey!”

“—want to pick out a game for after dinner?” Kuroba finished.

“Nothing with playing cards,” Saguru said instantly. “I’m sure both of you cheat.”

“I don’t cheat,” Takumi protested. Kuroba snorted. Takumi kicked at him under the table, clearly missing and hitting the table leg by the way all the dishes rattled. “Well, I only cheat against Tou-san because otherwise he’d never lose. It’s a survival strategy.”

“I only cheat against you half the time. You just have bad luck with cards.”

“Yours isn’t the greatest either, or were you dealing Kaa-san good hands that time I convinced her to play poker with us and Baa-chan?”

“Point,” Kuroba said. “Aoko’s luck trumps all of ours. So, Hakuba, stay for a game?”

Saguru glanced at Takumi, but he didn’t seem to mind the thought of playing a game with Saguru if his open interest was anything to go by. There wasn’t much waiting for him back in his apartment. He set down his chopsticks, meal finished. “I’ll stay.”

“Great! Come look at the game selection.”

“Nothing that will take all night,” Takumi said, rolling his eyes at Kuroba gleefully directing Saguru to a shelf with games stacked on it.

“Well that rules out a few.”

There were a good number of games, most of which Saguru had never heard of, ranging from what appeared to be adventure games, to card games, to games that required constructing things. It was no surprise to find something like Jenga with Kuroba’s steady hands, but he had to raise an eyebrow at some of them. “Too Many Cinderellas?”

“It’s fun. You try to convince the prince who Cinderella is, and sometimes it gets pretty ridiculous,” Kuroba said, content to let Saguru make the game choice.

Saguru kept looking. There were a few foreign games in the mix, like Monopoly and—Saguru’s eye caught on a familiar box. “How about Cluedo?”

Kuroba snorted. “You’re so predictable.”

“Just because it’s a mystery game doesn’t mean I’m predictable.”

“No?” Kuroba teased. “Then you just happen to choose one of the only mystery games in the mix by chance?”

“It’s one I recognize and enjoy,” Saguru defended, pulling the box free.

“Did you know there’s a Kaito Kid version that was made locally?” Kaito said in a lower voice. “The point of the game is to figure out who is actually Kid and how the target was stolen.”

“Sounds like a fun and thematically appropriate game. We should play it sometime.”

Kuroba grinned. “Thought you’d say that. Sadly I don’t own it. Kaa-san does though. Maybe I’ll borrow it and drag her into playing a game with us.”

“Somehow I’m sure you’ll still manage to cheat. Or automatically end up as Kid.”

“Haha, very funny.” Kaito snatched the box from Saguru and cleared a space on the coffee table for the board. “Just for that, you get to be Mr. Green.”

“What’s wrong with Mr. Green?”

“Nothing. That’s the joke.”

Saguru looked at him blankly. This was the classic version of the game so Green was a conniving priest, and he honestly couldn’t see the connection.

“...You’ve never seen the movie based on the game have you?” Kuroba said after a moment.

“There’s a movie?”

“We,” Kuroba said with mock seriousness, “definitely need to have a movie night some night, because if you enjoy the game and ridiculous eighties American films, it will be right up your alley.”

“Another time then,” Saguru said. He wouldn’t mind the chance to watch a movie with Kuroba at any rate. Although he wouldn’t have thought an American comedic film would be Kuroba’s choice, but what did Saguru know?

“So you’re choosing Clue?” Takumi said, dishes washed and set in the strainer. “How stereotypical, Hakuba-sensei.”

“I know, right?” Kuroba snickered.

Saguru rolled his eyes and let them have their fun.

“It’s a fun game though,” Takumi continued. “Hakuba-sensei gets to shuffle and deal out the cards.”

“Don’t trust me?” Kuroba said.

“Nope. You’re the one who taught Shiemi and me to cheat after all.”

“I’m hurt,” Kuroba said with exaggerated dramatics. He draped himself back along the couch, one hand over his eyes. It was all very amusing until Saguru remembered that Kuroba actually was hurt, and then it was a bit worrisome, but Kuroba popped back up again when the act didn’t get him a reaction. Not too hurt to play around at least. “No defending my name, Hakuba? Some friend you are.”

“You want me to lie?” Saguru asked, deadpan. “I’m not sure my detective sensibilities will allow it.”

Kuroba and Takumi both snorted at the same time. Takumi looked away, red faced and trying not to laugh even as he seemed to find the humor embarrassing. Saguru took the chance to snag the cards.

“Let’s play to learn who killed Mr. Boddy, shall we?”

“Professor Plum, in the study with the candlestick,” Kuroba said under his breath.

Saguru was going to make sure Kuroba lost, he decided. Just because. It didn’t matter whether Saguru or Takumi won, just that Kuroba lost a game for once. “In that case be Plum.”

“Nope, I call Mrs. White.”

“...The maid.”

“Yup.”

“I’m Scarlet,” Takumi said. When both adults glanced at him, he shrugged. “I like red.”

Scarlet brought a few too many memories of Koizumi Akako to mind for Saguru’s peace of mind. “Well let’s play then.”

Cards went into the file for the eventual reveal, and the rest were doled out.

Kuroba, it seemed, was the type to take the ‘jump around the board and confuse what is really being searched for’ sort of strategist. Saguru was more methodical, and Takumi was somewhere in between their styles. Saguru was somewhat convinced that both Kurobas were substituting loaded dice at one point, but he had yet to see them trade off and honestly they might just have good enough control to get the die to land on high numbers.

Kuroba had to dramatically act out each time he made an accusation. It took a few times for Saguru to realize he was imitating detectives he knew each time, though when he made up precise times and methodology in an imitation of Saguru’s reveal method, it was abundantly clear what he was doing. It was both irritating and amusing at the same time, and the game was the most fun Saguru had in a while. No pressure, just simple challenge of trying to out-think someone else.

Takumi won in the end. It was Saguru and Kuroba’s fault for getting too involved in trying to throw each other off that they half forgot about the other player in the game.

Takumi gave them both an exasperated look as he said, “Mrs. White, in the ballroom with a revolver, now will you please stop smirking at each other?” He opened the envelope and fanned out the cards to reveal that he was right.

“I guess you were the killer after all, Kuroba,” Saguru said.

“Damn, and I was between White and Mustard.” Kuroba tossed down his cards.

“I had Mustard the entire time, I was trying to figure out whether anyone had the pipe, rope, or revolver.”

“You both have tunnel vision and shouldn’t be allowed to play games against each other,” Takumi said. “Tou-san clearly kept guessing the rope because he already had it. Now I’m going to go to bed because I asked for a game that wouldn’t take all night and you both dragged the game on forever.” He had his hands on his hips like he was the adult in the situation and it was spoiled a bit by how he kept forcing himself not to smile. “Goodnight, Hakuba-sensei,” Takumi said. “It was...pretty nice having you over for dinner.”

“Thank you both for the hospitality.”

“Stop being so formal all the time,” Kuroba said.

“It’s called being polite. You should try it.”

“Goodnight,” Takumi repeated, exasperated. Saguru could hear him mutter something about acting the wrong ages as he wandered off to his bedroom.

When Saguru glanced at Kuroba, Kuroba looked...happy. Content, like he couldn’t imagine a better way to end the day and all was right with the world. To a lesser extent, Saguru found that he felt similarly at peace. Tonight was the most he’d laughed in...well, in a long time. A long, long time.

“Kuroba,” Saguru said softly, unwilling to break the moment by speaking louder. “Thank you. Truly.”

“Anytime, Hakuba,” Kuroba said. He smiled, maybe the truest smile Saguru had seen on his face in the whole of their acquaintance. “Anytime.”

That smile made Saguru want to commit it to memory, dissect every detail of its features and hoard it close with other similarly precious moments. He probably had an equally open expression at the moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about what Kuroba might or might not take from an unguarded and happy moment. Let Kuroba see him relaxed along with all the rest of Saguru’s myriad of emotions.

It was Kuroba who looked away first. “We’ll still have to watch that movie sometime.”

“Of course.”

“And maybe do this again. Dinner. And a game.”

“I would like that.”

“Good.”

That would be the ideal moment to leave, probably. Saguru didn’t really want to go just yet, but the clock on the wall matched the digital one blinking next to the TV, both showing almost nine.

Saguru reached for his cane. “Goodnight, Kuroba.”

“Night, Hakuba,” Kuroba said. He busied himself in picking up the Cluedo pieces, shuffling them about. “See you maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Saguru echoed agreeably before letting himself out. It wasn’t like either of them had to go far if they wanted to talk.