Chapter Text
Sometimes, like it or not, a cop could only really thank a kind of… gut instinct. No matter how hard you worked, or how long you thought, sometimes at the end of the day all you could really thank was the gods, a little luck, and following your instincts. Was it rational? Maybe not. But crime wasn’t always rational either.
At least that was how Inspector Hanshichi saw it. He didn’t need to have checked out the bank that day, after all. It’d been considered an open and shut case. Some punk kid, a slapdash attempt to crack a tricky vault… never even made it back out the front door before the alarm went off. He could have left it up to the men already on the scene. Nobody would have blamed him.
Maybe it’d been instinct. Or maybe it was just that he couldn’t have lived with himself if some poor kid got worse then they deserved just because he hadn’t been thorough enough.
Hanshichi hadn’t been young; not even then. But all those cold night aches and pains hadn’t really set in yet. He’d made a bit of a name for himself, there was someone waiting at home for him… and when he’d arrived on the scene, the officer on the bank door had respectfully saluted. Glory days, only just tinted with the creeping twilight of his career.
Right away… something had felt off. Hanshichi walked inside the bank, hands resting in his coat pockets as he examined the scene. It was a lavish bank; the kind he joked sometimes he’d never have seen the inside of if it wasn’t for cases like these.
There’d been six security guards, all found unconscious. The suspect had been found in the vault area, trapped behind the automatic security system shutters- the alarm had shut off by the time someone discovered him there the next morning. Suspect had been apprehended without any further violence, and immediately claimed responsibility for the attempted theft. Open and shut.
They were young. Punkish type. The system was happy to take a confession; it was a foiled attempt, so long as he had someone to speak for him he’d get off easy enough.
Except… except it hadn’t sat right with him at all. And once he’d looking around, Hanshichi had known why. And he’d known he was who needed to handle the interrogation; more specifically that there even needed to BE one before the damn trial started. Both because he needed a few questions answered and because… because… well. Maybe that was where the real instinct, or luck, or whim of the gods had been lead him by the hand. When he’d decided he needed to speak to whoever had been in that bank. Thank hell he had. He’d hate to think how things could have gone otherwise.
The figure who greeted him in the interrogation room…. well. He’d understood then why there were two men posted at the door. The figure piled into the chair across from him? He looked dangerous. He MEANT to look dangerous.
The suspect was still in the clothes he’d been brought in with. A flashy, loud-patterned button up shirt, motorcycle boots, pants that could NOT have been comfortable… god had there been bandages on his chest? The long hair he definitely remembered; it’d caught his eye, at the time. Curly jet black down to his shoulders.
He might even have thought a moment the eyelashes were fake. Just one more detail to pile onto a look that might as well have screamed that the man wearing them was spoiling for a fight. Like a rattlesnakes rattle, or the stripes on a hornet- I’m dangerous was written in every stitch of it, and frankly Hanshichi doubted it was a bluff.
But even then, from the moment he’d first laid eyes on the boy, Hanshichi couldn’t help but think of nothing less then a sad, lost pup.
A BIG pup, mind. Even at 20ish, Zenigata Koichi was a giant of a man. Not that he’d have said he was a man just yet. …Hell, not that he’d known his name, just yet. Hanshichi had only just walked in when the kid lifted his head slightly, fixing hanshichi with a gold medal glare.
“Don’t bother.” the voice that rumbled out of the boy… well he couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. Sheeh, no wonder nobody’d asked twice… voice like that says they did the crime? Who wouldn’t listen? Only somebody who’d heard the sad little sad-puppy whine on the back end.
“You and my supervisor both.” he’d joked at him, giving him a worn but friendly smile before he’d sat down.
“Don’t. I know how this goes.” the kid hadn’t straightened up so much as shifted forward, resting his arms on the table between them. Shoulders up like the hackles of a dog- he couldn’t stop thinking of him that way. Never really did. But it was striking seeing someone dressed that small trying to make himself smaller.
“Oh? That’s surprising. This is your first arrest, isn’t it?” Hanshichi made himself comfortable, patting himself down to find his cigarettes. He didn’t, of course, actually know for sure if he was right. He didn’t know almost anything about him; he’d given no name when he was brought in. It didn’t matter. A guess in a easy, conversational tone was disarming. He needed him off the defensive.
“Yeah. But I know how it goes anyways. You’re going to be nice. Pull some cheap trick like offering me food. So I’ll be grateful. Don’t bother.” Zenigata had sunk back in his wooden chair once he was done talking. He’d folded his arms tight over his chest, which was impressive for someone in handcuffs
Hanshichi blinked, looking up at him mid checking the same pocket for probably the third time.
“Hell, I’m impressed.” he’d said. And he really was. Not just for the insight, but for how well thought out it was. Bitter, sure. But this wasn’t just muscle. Good. That went a ways towards confirming some suspicions already.
“But tell you what, kid, how about I make with the food anyways? Seems like the least I owe you for your time.” No response. But he could see gears turning… or maybe the smoke of a steam engine’s fire. He gave it a second before talking again.
“The foods not great in lockup. Theres a place near here that does a great katsudon. We’ll get uh… lesse. How about two servings of that- make it three- and I’ll want a coffee by the time it gets here. And get yourself something too.” that he’d directed at one of the gaurds with a tone that made it clear it’d already been decided. He could see a flicker of uncertainty win out over a shot at lunch.
“You want a coffee? Or something else” he asked the kid, and watched his eyes flick up to him. Glaring? No- just a wide eyed stare with a lot of focus behind it. Definitely his real eyelashes. He might have been spoiling for a fight with every stitch he was wearing, but there wasn’t THAT much affectation happening.
“…Ramune.” the answer tumbled out of Zenigata like something falling off a shelf, but it was a start. Hanshichi waved off the officer he’d given their order to; leaving just the one posted at the door. Good.
He found his cigarettes and pulled one out- offering it to the kid after a moments thought.
“You smoke? They’re shinsei- cheap as hell, but so’m I.”
“Yeah. But fuck off.” The kid snarled back. Hanshichi laughed and shrugged it off, and pulled out a beat up lighter that failed completely at actually starting a damn flame.
“Well, while we wait I AM going to ask some questions. If treating you like a decent human being ‘doesn’t work’? Fine by me. I’m on the clock. And all you’ll be spending is time. You’ll have plenty of that soon, eh?” The lighter sparked and sputtered as hanshichi flicked it repeated, and he wound up shaking it with an annoyed grumble, feeling the weight of the damn lighter fluid he KNEW was inside.
“So. You took down six gaurds, I’m told?” he asked, setting the lighter down to see if he could sneak up on it.
“Yeah.”
“Alone? That’s impressive.” Hanshichi snatched up the lighter and flicked it, which finally produced a flame… which vanished when his hand finally registered he’d burned himself trying to start the damn thing, and dropped the lighter like a hot coal.
“Yeah. Like I said when I got brought in.” The lighter bounced on the table a second as Hanshichi shook his hand out, wincing a little.
“Sure. Makes sense on paper. They’re spaced out… and you look like you can handle yourself in a fight.” Hanshichi snatched his lighter back up, and finally managed to light his cigarette. There was no reply from the boy. He’d been warned about this; outside of the confession, he’d been as good as made of stone. So he ignored it, and kept going.
“Except… you know. Once I looked around at the security routes, they were spaced out. But in pairs, eh? Three sets of two guards, who both have the other in their line of sight. Now that, that to me? That seems suddenly pretty tricky to do alone.” Ahh, jackpot. He watched the kid flinch, curling inwards. The response of someone who’d been hoping no one would notice something… but maybe something else. He hadn’t been aiming for sting, but he’d gotten it.
“It’s a pretty interesting safe, too. The floors set up like a cargo trucks weight station; you need to recalibrate it if you’re pulling cash out. Seems like a pain to me, but with the kind of money they handle, guess it pays to give their clients a little peace of mind.” Hanshichi gestured slightly as he spoke, still watching him. He was still crossing his arms, but the made of stone act was breaking up. Fidgety, or about to be soon. Nerves?
“Real tricky to get around. Thats why it make sense, eh? You get in, you trip the alarm… near as anyone can tell on site, money’s not missing. It can’t be. The alarm went off, right? And the system says the weights all the same.” Hanshichi reached into his pockets, but this time he didn’t need to pat himself down to find what he was looking for.
The wad of ‘bills’ he set down on the table wouldn’t have fooled anybody, once they’d thought to actually double check. It wasn’t much more then paper in about the right color, bound up like real money. But it’d been slipped in between actual wads of bills; easy enough not to notice for a few days.
“But you’d thought of that. Nobody’s so stupid they’d pick that bank on accident. But if you make a weight that you can be *sure* will weigh about the same as the cash…?” Hanshichi blew a wobbly smoke ring, contemplatively watching the smoke drift apart.
“Maybe now the damn bank won’t be so cocky. I doubt it, sadly. People like that never learn. To them, money means they already have the blessing of heaven.” Hanshichi shook his head, idly tugging the sleeve of his jacket up while silence pooled. Gave them both a moment to think.
“The alarm got switched off before anyone showed up. That’s why no one found you there ‘till morning; but it wasn’t a security *failure*. I found a panel opened up in the wall. Did you do that?” This time, he got another stirring of life. The kids shoulders dropped a little, and his gaze seemed to roll slowly to the floor.
“The noise was bugging me. Wasn’t like anybody else would hear it.” he mumbled, lowering his arms from their position tightly crossing his chest. For a moment, the kid wound his fingers together, pushing his hands together and absently hinging them apart.
“I bet. Last thing you needed was a headache, eh? And the bars on the security shutters… those things aren’t kidding around. No getting out once they’re down…. is what I’d usually figure. But I found one bent to hell.” He’d honestly expected to find a sledgehammer in the evidence room, but no dice.
“…I was mad.” was all the answer he got back, as the kid he didn’t know as Zenigata yet sat and fidgeted and stared a hole in the surface of the table.
“The bar was bent up. And they have to repair the whassits that lift it back in the ceiling, apparently.” Hanshichi prompted, fixing him with a questioning look.
“I was *really* mad.”
“Well, blow me down…” Hanshichi chuckled, genuinely impressed. And… for just a second, Hanshichi had watched a smile creep over the boys face. And it broke his heart.
Pride. The kid was proud someone was impressed by him… even if it was a cop. Maybe the pang he’d felt over it was for his own sad, younger self. Or maybe it’d been from thinking… the kid looked ok, smiling. Anyone who could still look that sincerely, innocently happy… there had to be a chance. That had to be someone with a future.
Hanshichi could put a little faith in a smile like that.
“And… all this by yourself?” he asked, and almost regretted it. The smile slipped away, and left a silence that wasn’t so sullen. Zenigata was frowning, staring at the table.
“Ye… yeah” he said, but not with what Hanshichi would call conviction.
Hanshichi had a choice, then. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have helped the kid just knowing what he knew. He didn’t need to confirm this far. But… but. Well.
He’d never have forgiven himself if someone went through more pain then they needed to just because he thought he’d already done enough.
“Oy. Take five.” Hanshichi had said, gesturing to the officer on the door.
“Sir, I-“ at the first syllable of protest, hanshichi slammed his fist on the table, turning his head towards the officer.
“The kids in goddamned manacles and I’m armed! I’m not so old I need a god damned babysitter YET. Now MOVE!” Hanshichi barked, staring the officer down until he heard the click of the door closing. And then… it was just them.
He’d taken his hat off, then, and set it aside. It took a moment for him to arrange the words in his head.
“…He can’t be worth this.” He said finally, slowly laying the words out like a game of solitaire. It was only half a shot in the dark. A shot in the gloom, lit by the bare bulb of a sad old story. It landed. He watched the kid glance up sharply- too sharply. He wasn’t a good enough actor yet to hide his expression.
“Listen. Forget me being here as a cop a second. Man to man. Anyone who’d leave you in a jam like that? They’re a god damned bum. And you were left, weren’t you. Cause otherwise it doesn’t add up.” It almost felt mean, but he’d only have the one shot to get through to him. He held one hand up to count off the discrepancies one by one.
“You could turn the alarm off, but stayed behind the security shutter? You confess even though you know how an interrogation works? You could take out two men at once? Well, maybe you COULD take out two men at once… but. Anyways.” Hanshichi waved his hand to the side, more at himself then anything else.
“Take it from an old uncle of a man. Love can absolutely be worth making a fool of yourself for… but you deserve someone worth being a fool over. You deserve better then this.”
Years later, Hanshichi would wonder time and time again… had that been the first time anyone had ever TOLD him that? But right then, he’d just almost hated being right. He’d watched as relief and confusion and absolute anguish battled it out on the kids face, until the surprise victor was him curling up till his head was touching the wood, his shoulders tense.
It was silent for a few minutes (minus some damp hiccuping Hanshichi planned to go to his grave never letting on that he’d heard) before he decided to break the quiet.
“…My names Hanshichi Kidō, by the way. Inspector Hanshichi.” he offered. He pulled out his cigarette carton to set out near the kid again, figuring maybe by now he’d need it.
“My partners name is Akahito. He’s an author.” It was more then he’d needed to say, maybe. But it felt… square? A little more even. Or maybe he’d just wanted the boy who’s name he was about to learn was-
“…mines Zenni. Uh. Zenigata Koichi.” -to trust him. And it was easier to trust someone if you could say, I know who you are, and you know me.
“Good to meet you, Zenigata.”
Well, he’d thought to himself. A goddamned Zenigata. At least he wouldn’t have any trouble with having someone to speak for him at the trial.
He’d been wrong. Nobody came for Koichi Zenigata’s trial, except for him. It turned out to be a damn good thing he’d put his best into the case for him, because the more he pieced together, the clearer it became that Hanshichi was the only goddamned one.
. Hanshichi liked to think he would have stuck by the kid no matter what. But there was nothing like a little spite to really help a man double down on compassion.
The trial went… rough. And when Zenigata had wound up in prison, he did his best to visit as much as he could. At first, he mostly talked. Eventually, he’d gotten to listen. And bit by bit, he got to figure out the answer to the question he’d had when he’d gone over the bank.
Who the heck was this? Who’d fool a vault, and silence an alarm, but still try to cover for the bastard who tried to leave him with the rap sheet for it?
It was a kid who had a goofy chuckle, and was the kind of loyal that was bound to land him in hot water sooner or later. He had a hot temper that got him in trouble. He had a weakness for cute people with sharp eyes, which got him in a lot more trouble.
Zenigata worked hard. He had to; the only thing that seemed to come naturally for him was determination. Everything else, he’d fought for inch by inch- and he’d still been fighting, even in jail. He struggled writing with a pen, but he still sent letters. He claimed not to be a great reader, but he went through the books Hanshichi brought him with so much intensity it practically faded the ink.
And nobody had cared.
He was a runaway, who nobody had come looking for. Not so much as a damn missing person filing. Even decades later it would still make his blood run cold when he thought about it. The way Zenigata had talked about it, it was clear he thought it was his fault. He thought he’d run away because *he* wasn’t good enough, and he’d gotten tired of trying to face it.
Nobody came to the court case; nobody came to visit. Except Hanshichi. And when the day came that Zenigata walked out of the prison gates… Hanshichi was there for that, too.
Because the end, it all came down to a pretty simple answer.
He was a good kid. And if his own goddamned family couldn’t see that… well, nuts to them.