a/n: I'm so behind on the manga. I've just haven't found myself interested lately to catch up with it. I'm sure I will eventually; my interest in DC always comes and goes. Anyways, I've had a couple chapters siting in my folders for a while waiting for edits. Here's one. Still not a hundred percent satisfied with the transitions withing scenes, but I'll deal with it if I ever come back around for another edit.

In the end, Shinichi supposed, there were no shortcuts to get what he wanted.

He'd initially hoped that with Inspector Megure and Hakuba Saguru's recommendation, he could convince Superintendent General Hakuba to have an audience with him. The man held the highest rank in the Police Department in all of Japan, after all. He was notorious busy and didn't receive visitors - not with a second-in-command and subordinates available to do such tedious jobs for him.

Except Shinichi's matter was not for anyone's ears but the Superintendent General himself.

The Secret Police - the force which Amuro worked under - was under the Superintendent General's jurisdiction. He was one of the few who not only knew the identities of those in it, but was also qualified to give them commands.

If anyone could order Amuro to cooperate with the FBI and CIA, it was him.

Shinichi had hoped that once he explained the circumstances, the Superintendent General would assist with the plot. It was clear that Amuro was obviously still in contact with the Secret Police force, after all, judging from how he'd managed to relay orders to them in order to corner Jodie and Camel to lure Akai out.

If Amuro had a way to relay orders without the Black Organisation's knowledge, receiving them could not be any more difficult.

Perhaps it was a bit underhanded, going over Amuro's head like that, but Shinichi had personally seen the lengths the man would go to to get to Akai, and he couldn't let the FBI and CIA agents in when Amuro was still such an untamable wildcard.

But in the end, it didn't matter; that plan fell through before it even began.

The long days after Hakuba's apologetic phone call, Shinichi was forced back to the drawing board. Amidst the dozen discarded plans, he revised his thinking and turned his focused onto Amuro's character. More specially, the change in Amuro's character after Akai spoke to him.

"'I'd rather you don't fixate on what's directly ahead of you and lose sight of the real prey in this hunt'," Akai had reminded the man.

As much as Amuro despised Akai, ultimately it had been the Black Organisation who had killed his friend. Shinichi hoped he could count on Amuro to remember that, once rage and thoughts of vengeance finally cleared from his mind.

As it was, he'd been oddly contemplative the few days Conan had seen him next.

If Akai's words had truly sunk in, perhaps, there was no longer a necessary to force Amuro's hand as Shinichi had initially planned.

Of course, these were mere speculations, and Shinichi had made a promise to the FBI agents that he would see to it that Bourbon did not hinder their plans. He would personally make sure such speculations were truth before proceeding further, rest assured.

Tooru Amuro almost didn't spot the man who lived in the Kudo Mansion in Café Poirot until Subaru waved him down from his table. Subaru sat in a dark corner of the cafe, unobtrusive and easily overlooked. With his heavy tan jacket placed off to the side, the black turtle-neck he wore allowed him to blend seamlessly into the shadows.

Amuro approached warily, because the spy in him could not disregard how deliberate his location and attire seemed.

"Ah, Amuro-kun," Subaru said affably when he arrived, "I thought you were a delivery man?"

Amuro let an awkward laugh surface. He'd never bothered to correct the man after wrongly accusing him to be Shuichi Akai. "Not often," he lied, before adding conversationally, "Actually, I mostly work here part-time."

"Jack-of-all trades?" Subaru commented thoughtfully before turning back to the menu in his hand. "Well nevermind then. Coffee, please," he said, dropping the topic to allow the man back to his job. "Black."

"Understood."

It was a simple order. In no time Amuro fetched Subaru's drink and slipped back to that darkened corner. He'd only set the cup on the table, mentally making a note to suggest Azusa-san to put in an additional light fixture, when Subaru's hand swiftly latched out and clamped onto his wrist.

Amuro instinctively yanked back his arm, to no avail.

"Excuse me? " he tried.

Subaru's smile was persistently unflappable. "Your shift's almost over, isn't?" he asked casually, as though he didn't have an iron grip on the other, "Why don't you join me?"

"Thank you, but I have plans."

"I insist," Subaru stressed, and his voice was suddenly chillingly undeniable.

Warning bells rang inside Amuro's head. He was trained to hide his gun near him at all times, but his was in his locker - he'd never expected to be caught up in an open scuffle during work. A controlled smile pressed on his face as his mind whirled.

Up until this point, after his Akai theory had been proven false, Amuro had been convinced Subaru actually was the innocent graduate student he pretended to be.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

Subaru wasn't necessarily even FBI; he could just as likely be one of the non-codenamed agents in the Organisation. Had Amuro tipped his hand when he went out to falsely confront him?

"Very well," Amuro murmured slowly, extracting his hand from Subaru's vice grip. "Allow me inform the owner and sign out first."

The unwavering gaze Subaru set upon him seemed to stare into his soul, before his lips stretched back out into a smile.

"I expect you back," the man said pleasantly. Though Amuro understood the threat beneath his words, especially with all the innocents in the Café, easy pickings as possible hostages.

With the Japanese Secret Police's motto to maintain safety and order in mind, Amuro did as he promised. If Subaru was truly out to expose him, then the least he could try to do was minimise the casualties.

When Amuro returned minutes later, his gun was tucked in his waistband, hidden by the body of his jacket. Experience kept his movement natural, and the slice of cake he carried with him as prop stole attention away from his midsection.

He chose a seat opposite from the man, a barrier between Subaru and the rest of the cafe. Amuro balanced half off his seat, ready to leap out quickly should it become necessary.

Before him, Subaru only casually sipped his coffee.

"How can I help you?" Amuro asked when it became clear Subaru was content drinking soundlessly, watching him over the rim of his cup.

Subaru gave a light hum. "About that other time…"

Amuro interrupted bashfully before he could finish, acting up his embarrassment. "Ah, I told you, didn't I? There was a misunderstanding on my part. I really do apologise for interrupting your night with all my accusations-"

The cup lowered onto the saucer with a sharp clink.

"Did you consider Akai-san's words, Furuya Rei?"

Amuro froze. His hand reflexively snapped towards his gun.

No one was supposed to know that name while he was undercover. And while Subaru had been in the room when he'd been on the phone with Akai, he couldn't have overheard their conversation. Amuro was sure of that.

"I am not the enemy," Subaru told him over his racing mind.

The idleness Amuro's posture was entirely forced, brought about by his unwillingness to appear high strung in front of the other man. It was disadvantageous to be seen floundering for the loss of control over the conversation. And also disadvantageous to be the one without all the cards in his hands.

"FBI?" he said, exuding confidence, though it was nothing of the sort. It was mere assumption that Akai could have told his colleague about Furuya Rei. If not, those two Agents who had been in the car with Akai could've relayed the information.

However, "Unfortunately, no."

Amuro's grip tightened on the lump under his jacket.

Then that left the Organisation. They would not hesitate to set spies on him the moment he gave them reason to suspect him of anything. Had the spies gotten wind of his conversation with Akai?

Amuro swore; he thought he'd been doing a good job gaining the Organisation's trust.

"Not them either," Subaru interjected suddenly, seeing through Amuro's thoughts.

Amuro's eyes narrowed.

Perhaps he pitied Amuro's unspoken confusion, but Subaru followed up immediately with a soft murmur, "I am an enemy … of the bad guys."

Something stirred in his mind.

It was vague and meaningless, but Amuro knew that line. He heard that exact line before, from Conan, when the boy had attempted to determine Amuro's alliance. Amuro had a strong feeling this was no coincidence.

Despite himself, Amuro removed his hand and placed it back on the table once more. Though he wasn't a complete fool, because he kept his arm tense and ready to snap back the moment anything seemed off to him.

"This was all part of his plan, wasn't it?" he said at last, letting astonishment into his tone. "I've been played. You weren't caught up in this by accident. You were deliberately placed at the Kudo Mansion so I would cast my suspicions on you," Amuro said with admiration for the seven-year-old, because he knew Conan had been the brains behind the whole operation.

He had been so confident Subaru was Akai. By calling his fellow officers for help to secure Akai's reveal, he'd given the boy all the proof he needed to connect him to the Secret Police.

Subaru's answer was unrevealing. "Perhaps."

Amuro rolled his eyes. "So, what does the boy want, then?"

"Did you consider Akai-san's words?" the man repeated.

Amuro bristled at the casual mention of that name again. "Don't mention that man to me," he demanded, no longer held back by fear of the unknown party.

Subaru didn't even blink at his tone, most likely briefed by Conan about his ire for the man. "Is revenge truly more important to you than defeating the greater evil?"

"You don't know what he's done," Amuro defended. That night had been burned in his mind - the loud, deafening bang of the gun; the smell of the coppery fluids in the wind; that man telling him the traitor got what he deserved; the crumpled heap of his mentor, dead and unable to see his wife and kids ever again.

Who was Akai to weed out traitors when he was one himself.

"Do you?" Subaru questioned guilelessly.

Of course he did. "I was there," he hissed.

But Subaru didn't answer, only watched him closely, and slowly but surely all of the doubts Amuro had always tried so hard to dismiss crept back into his mind. - the fact Scotch's palm had been devoid of blood, like he'd held the gun to himself; the fact his hidden phone had been shot so cleanly; the fact Scotch was never someone who could be intimidated into suicide; the fact the shot only rang out when Amuro disrupted the confrontation between the two.

Perhaps it was true that Amuro's just needed someone to hate, someone to keep his drive moving forward. Perhaps he had deliberately blinded himself to other possibilities.

The chair scraped the floor as he shot to his feet. "What do you know?" Amuro demanded, palms pressing into the table as he leaned across it.

The graduate student gestured the seat calmly. "Sit, sit," he said, eyes sweeping over the patrons looking their way.

Amuro took a deep breath and sat. "Who are you?"

"Are you willing to work together against the common enemy?" Subaru replied with instead.

The response held an obvious meaning - Subaru would only reveal his identity if Amuro agreed to cooperate. Though the fact that Subaru was willing to accept him on his word alone was surprising. Perhaps Conan-kun had put in a good word for him.

Wasn't that telling of how much Conan-kun placed his trust in this Subaru, and also in Amuro as well?

He settled on his chair. He was tense, but he hid it well. Still, he refuses to sound anything but distrustful. "And why should I answer to anyone with a connection to Akai?"

"Because you agree with him."

Out of reflex, Amuro's mouth opened, vicious words ready to spring forth. Agree with Akai? Amuro refused to agree with anything of Akai's.

...but that wasn't entirely true.

Amuro clenched his teeth mutely, because the thing was, Akai had been right, as infuriating as it was to admit. Amuro had been focusing too much on trying to exact revenge on the FBI agent to look at the bigger picture. True, handing over Akai would likely promote him to the inner circle of the Organisation, but it was not guaranteed.

On the other hand, if he worked with the FBI, he would have greater resources, and should the unfortunate happen and he be oust as a spy, the operation would still be active.

Personal revenge played no role in a career as a Secret Police officer.

Amuro let out a huff. "Alright. Fine," he said, before straightening out and repeating more sincerely, "I accept your proposal."

Subaru tilted his head, studying Amuro.

Then, perhaps liking what he saw, the man smile. He leaned back into the shadow, hand closed near his neck - likely where the mask began - and pulled. In place of the light hazelnut colour that was Subaru's hair, there was a mop of dark brown. His face was sharper, more youthful, and Amuro swore he looked familiar.

It clicked the moment the teen – because he was certainly not a graduate-student-aged man anymore – introduced himself.

"Kudo Shinichi. Detective.

Everything slotted neatly in place. "So that's your connection to the Kudos. That's why you're living in their house." Shinichi nodded wordlessly. "Why did the boy send you to talk to me?"

"I am in charge of this operation," Shinichi corrected.

It sounded odd to hear the older man's voice coming from the teen's mouth. Shinichi thought so as well, as he pulled down his collar and pressed a button on the choker he was wearing. Amuro raised an eyebrow; so he hadn't been wrong – Subaru was using Agasa's voice-changer choker. It pleased him that he hadn't been completely wrong this whole time.

Then, Shinichi's words sunk in.

He was in charge? What about the boy?

Amuro frowned. "Conan-kun left quite abruptly. Does that have something to do with this?"

"Conan and I," Shinichi said carefully, "were working together on this. He's done his part and now the rest is up to me." The teen paused then added, "He didn't need to attract any more attention onto himself."

"So he left for somewhere safer," Amuro concluded, nodding to himself. There was a surprising feeling of relief once he received that information.

Amuro supposed he like the boy more than he was willing to admit; Conan was unusually intelligent for his age and surprisingly mature. Butting head, even briefly, with the boy had been exhilarating, and he could scarcely imagine how the boy would turn out in a few years' time. But that would only happen if he lived that long. Between all the murder scenes the boy always ended up in the middle of, and now the Organisation, Amuro feared his precious little life would get cut short before he managed to reach his full potential.

"So then, you are willing to cooperate?" Shinichi asked, and considering his ardent hatred of anything related to Akai, Amuro didn't blame the kid for double checking.

"I will put my differences aside if it means we can bring down the Organisation sooner. But after that, I want to FBI out of my Japan," he said unyieldingly.

Conan had proved himself sly and worthy enough to lead the plan, especially with the way he played Amuro. Amuro could only hope Shinichi was just as proficient as his younger relative.

Shinichi nodded. "How do you feel about the CIA? The Interpol?"

Amuro blinked twice, refusing to let his eyes widen in surprise. "How many intelligence agencies are working on this?" he asked before he meant to. He knew about the FBI because of Akai, but the CIA and Interpol as well? Maybe he did make the right decision after all – bringing down the Organisation would be easier without accidentally stepping on each other's toes.

"The Interpol is not yet involved, but if necessary, I can bring them in," Shinichi said, sounding like personally calling for their involvement was no big feat. Amuro was impressed.

"Alright. I can work together as long as they don't cast suspicion onto my position. I assume you will take lead in coordinating everything."

"That's right."

"Alright," Amuro agreed once more. Perhaps this alliance would be more advantageous than he previously thought.

Down at the Kudo Mansion, Heiji leaned against the door as he waited for someone to answer his not-so-polite banging. Kudo, it seemed, was never available when he needed him, that annoying detective.

As the echo of footsteps approached, Heiji perked up straight. He quickly pushed himself off the door, settling in front of it with a disappointed glare and crossed arms as he waited for it to swing open.

The face that greeted him was not Kudo. Not a high schooler, even.

"O-oh, uh –"

The older man seemed to take his stuttering in stride, smiling pleasantly at the teen. "Hattori-kun. How can I help you?"

"Ah, Subaru-san, right?" Heiji returned with a weak smile of his own as Subaru nodded. "Yeah, I was lookin' fer Kudo. Or is he at the Pro'fessor's home?" the teen said hesitantly.

Subaru furrowed his brows thoughtfully before shuffling slightly aside. "I believe he's meeting with someone at the moment. But why don't I show you inside? Shinichi-kun should be back soon," he offered.

"Oh, sure."

Subaru led Heiji into the Kudo's huge library, with the promise to relay to Shinichi of his presence the moment he came home.

It was a little while later when Shinichi finally scrambled in, panting. He'd clearly rushed to get there, judging by his unruly hair and rumpled clothes.

Now that he thought about it, they weren't his usual attire either. Heiji eyed the snug black turtle-neck and pants Shinichi was clothed in, nothing like the smart-but-casual clothes he typically wore.

Heiji placed aside the book he'd been reading and rose from his seat. "Kudo," he greeted, before adding distastefully, "What are you wearing?"

Shinichi's reception was dry as always. "Hattori. What are you doing here?"

Hattori ignored his tone. "No, really, Kudo. What's wi't all ta black. It doesn't suit ya."

"I had a meeting," Shinichi dismissed, though he did tug his shirt self-consciously. "Seriously, what are you doing here, Hattori," he continued, unamused.

"A dress code fer a meeting? What sort'a meeting was this?" the Osakan asked, unrelenting. Shinichi glared at him, lips pressed to a line. Heiji gave an annoyingly carefree laugh, knowing the other detective well enough to finally carry on, despite his unfulfilled curiosity. "Can't a guy visit his friend?"

"You never 'just visit'," Shinichi retorted. Even when he had been Conan, whenever Heiji visited, it was usually to drag him into a case. With a little sigh, Shinichi strolled over to the book Heiji placed down. "Ellery Queen? You're in my house, Hattori. You could at least read Holmes."

Heiji rolled his eyes, snatching the book back. "It's in yer library," he countered.

Shinichi echoed his gestured. "Seriously, Hattori," Shinichi said, "What do you want?" And then he braced himself for a hour of arguing, because Shinichi had a feeling he did know what Heiji was there for, if their last conversation on the phone was anything to go by.

That was why Shinichi knew something was wrong when Heiji insisted, "What's wrong with visit'n ya?"

It was like Heiji suddenly forgot his rage at Shinichi for leaving him out of his plans (and also refusing to tell him about them). It wasn't like Heiji to use roundabout methods; Heiji was a straightforward sort of guy. He never beat around the bush - if he was angry at Shinichi, he was angry for all to see; if he wanted to force the plan out of Shinichi, he would do it bluntly.

Therefore the conclusion was simple: this wasn't Heiji at all.

This was someone who didn't know about the phone conversation Shinichi had with Heiji.

Shinichi forced himself not to tense up at the thought, but his eyes narrowed as he observed not-Heiji in front of him. Who could disguise themselves so flawlessly and would nonchalantly visit him while in said disguise?

"Vermouth," Shinichi hissed. It wouldn't be the first time.

What was it she said before: 'Expect to hear from me again'? Shinichi hadn't expected 'again' to be so soon.

"We only spoke recently." Shinichi said, suppressing the urgency from his tone. Because Shinichi knew Vermouth well enough to understand that women prioritised self-preservation over everything else. The thought of something important enough for her to risk being seen by Shinichi so shortly after her last visit was terrifying. She'd mentioned that Gin was catching on, hadn't she? Depending on her answer, Shinichi worried he would have to proceed with his contingency plans even before the original could be carried out.

Everything was thrown off the rails.

Yet, Vermouth's actions were lackadaisical as she adopted an imposing posture and hummed noncommittally from the back of her throat.

Shinichi frowned, worried, as a sense of warning tickled his instincts. "What's wrong?" he asked.

For a second Vermouth said nothing. She pressed her lips together and studied him carefully. Then, finally, she said, "Nothing's wrong," except everything was because she was still using Heiji's voice.

Shinichi stilled.

He casually crossed his arms, letting his hand lay by his stun watch.

There was without a doubt that the person before him was most certainly not Heiji - but the possibility that they weren't Vermouth either was quickly dawning on him. The refusal to drop Heiji's voice was the first major clue - most probably they didn't know Vermouth's voice; the second was that they didn't seem to realise that Vermouth also called him Silver Bullet every chance she had.

Shinichi hesitantly approached the unknown, eyes roaming over his figure, trying to pick out the false from the disguise.

The were no visible reaction other than a slight shift in "Heiji"s stance. A head tilted. "What?" he asked curiously, and something mildly dangerous mixed in his tone at the sight of Shinichi's mistrust.

It was a weak aura, nothing like the brand of danger that were Vermouth and the rest of the BO. Shinichi and Haibara could describe their experiences as truly petrifying, a jolting shiver that rose instinctually, like a prey caught before the jaws of a beast.

This, however, was more of a chilling prickle on the back of Shinichi's neck.

"Who are you?" Shinichi demanded.

"What do you mean?" the unknown asked innocently.

And then, suddenly, Shinichi knew. Like a rush of waves, all confusion washed away, leaving behind the single truth.

Shinichi honestly wondered why he didn't see it sooner (- most likely because his mind had been so focused on the BO and the plan that morning that he'd thought of nothing else).

"Kaitou Kid, I should have known."

There was a moment of anticipation as the being held still and silent, and then in a puff of smoke, the thief was suddenly before him, fully dressed in Kid regalia. "Kudo, Kudo. How could you mistake me for anyone else?" Kid asked cockily, gaze burning into Shinichi.

Shinichi didn't answer. Assumptions were unacceptable in his line of work, because sending an innocent man to jail was nothing to laugh at. It was detrimental to the justice system and to the trust of the public. Yet in this lethal battle against the Black Organisation, he was quickly slipping.

The constant adrenaline from danger and worry, and the utter lack of sleep from revising plans after plans, wore away on his brain's efficiently more than Shinichi had realised. He was fortunate this was only Kid and not a unexpected enemy with no qualms killing him. As it was, it was likely Kid had questions from his slip-up that Shinichi couldn't answer.

Just as expected, the cocky expression on Kid's face melted off, replaced by a stern glower. "Now then, Kudo," Kid began. "Your friends disguise themselves regularly in your life?" he asked with idleness that was most probably false. "That's normally the skill of thieves and criminals."

"Well…" Shinichi said with a shrug. "I am a detective," he said. "I know my share of criminals." He paused then tipped his head pointedly, "You included."

"Touché," Kid allowed. He reached to pull down his white top hat, monocle glinting as he spoke, "And I suppose you know about criminals dressed entirely in, oh I don't know, black, as well?"

His word were much too direct to be a mere coincidence, not that his tone hadn't given it away.

Shinichi gave a sharp intake, plainly visible because he hadn't expected Kid's answer. Somehow Kid was aware of the Black Organisation. However, Shinichi could not discern if Kid knew Shinichi knew of its existence too, or if he was only fishing for answers.

"I take it you're acquainted with these men in black?"

"Plenty of criminals dress in black," Shinichi tried.

Kid glowered at him. "Don't be deliberately obtuse, it's not cute."

Good, because cute was the last thing Shinichi was going for.

Truthfully, all Shinichi wanted to do was just say 'no, I really don't,' and continue to deny all conversations related to that dangerous Organisation, even if Kid kept pushing. But he knew better than any that lying to the thief was next to impossible. Kid had the keen eyes of a detective to spot involuntary tics and twitches on others that implied they were being less than truthful.

That was why he had made a self-imposed decision to lie as little as possible to Kid in the first place - not that being vague stopped the thief from persistently questioning Shinichi either. There was no winning with the thief; a lie would stir Kid's curiosity to dig into the organisation, and a truth would encourage him to press him harder for answers.

Shinichi settled with a "I might," that meant nothing in terms of admittance and denial, really. Too bad Kid was already utterly convinced (and correct) that Shinichi was involved with them. "Kid, stay out of this," Shinichi implored.

"A Phantom Thief is governed by no one but the moonlight," Kid opposed, taking Shinichi's advice in a rebellious attitude. He took a step forward, stare hardening. "Are you planning on stopping me?" he challenged.

"You don't know what you're getting into. Do not get involved."

He'd known the thief was stubborn, but he hadn't realised Kid had no sense of self-preservation either. Becoming the target of a widespread criminal organisation was nothing like the dangers of being a phantom thief. Surely Kid understood the viciousness of the Black Organisation, if he knew of it.

And yet he kept persisting.

"But you are involved," he said unrelentingly. An inferno seemed to burn behind those narrowed eyes of his, though his face remained carefully mild.

Then Kid's eyes widened as though an abrupt thought occurred to him.

"Is Tantei-kun involved?"

Shinichi startled in surprise.

There was no telling how the thief's thought process ran, but one way or another, he stumbled upon the path leading to the truth. Part of the truth, but still the truth all the same. Because Conan was Shinichi, and if Shinichi was involved, then so was Conan. If anything, Shinichi forced Conan involved - Conan would never have existed without Shinichi running into Gin and Vodka at Tropical Land.

But surely Kid couldn't have deduced that; Kid had no way to know about the APTX4869 or its unexpected side effect.

Then what conclusion did Kid reach?

"How did that happen?" Kid interjected, giving Shinichi no time to ask. The blatant worry in the thief's tone swirled a cocktail of guilt in Shinichi's gut.

There was no suitable reply that could reassure Kid of Conan's safety because Shinichi knew whatever he said, the thief would check, and anything reassuring could only be lies. "Conan was involved before he had a choice," Shinichi eventually told him, a vague truth as always.

"Everyone has a choice."

Everyone except Shinichi's miniaturized form, forced into the world by a single pill.

"There are things you do not understand, Kid," Shinichi said.

"Oh, then enlighten me."

Kid stalked forward. His hand shot out before Shinichi could blink, latching around his left wrist, precisely over his stun-gun watch, rendering it unusable. Kid pushed against the arm, putting Shinichi off balance as he was forced to lean awkwardly to relieve pressure from the unnatural angle.

"I'm listening," Kid said.

Shinichi yelped.

Then, there was a sudden creak down the hall – most likely Subaru coming back to check up on the two teens, or offer tea and snacks.

Kid paused, eyes sliding to the side, flickering between Shinichi and the doorway. White gloved hands clenched, fingers twitching in its hold, likely taking stock of the tricks he had on his suit. Perhaps not anxiety, but something similar, mixed with displeasure flashed quickly over his face before it smoothened out.

Meanwhile, Shinichi's mind scrambled for an excuse to explain Kid's spontaneous appearance - and an explanation for Kid's hold so that Subaru didn't take drastic actions against him.

However, it turned out it was unnecessary in the end.

Kid turned on him with a dark gaze, a promise of something terrible, then he swept around. His white cape fluttered around him as a dropped capsule hissed out white fog.

"Consider yourself lucky for today," Kid shot in parting.

Shinichi coughed, unable to answer.

By the time the smoke dispersed, Kid was already gone. Subaru stood by the door, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the smokey room, a tea tray in his hands.

Shinichi pursed his lips and offered a mute shrug to the older man. Perhaps Kid didn't want his presence known?

Thess antagonistic confrontations as of late did not favours for their deteriorating relationship. Shinichi could only hope the thief didn't have a grossly misconstrued view of him.

Plus, he really needed to get out of the habit of letting Kid have the last word.