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Lupin was told from a very young age that his world would stay grey. It should stay grey - he didn’t need soulmates. Shouldn’t have. Soulmates would keep him down, make him weak, give him a disadvantage. Being alone was right.
He always thought that it was bullshit.
Jigen is serious, composed and dressed in some very dark, probably black, colours. The complete opposite of Lupin. He likes it. He likes the way Jugen’s thin lips curls in a mocking smile after hearing his plan. How he bites his cigarette on the rough turn of Lupin’s car. How he hunches and holds his hat down while getting out of yellow fiat.
Lupin just likes him, apparently.
And then his world got yellows.
They running from the bank, with cash, laughing and high on adrenaline. And then, Jigen grabs his collar and drags him back from a bullet about to pierce his head.
“Wow. thanks-” he said, turning back to Jigen only to see his whole world changing with new colours. Jigen is as struck as him, his mouth agape.
“Your tie is atrocious, boss” was all he said before dragging Lupin back to running. He just laughed in response. Of course.
Fujiko is amazing. She is smart and witty, and beautiful and sly and… And Lupin just feels like he would willingly give her anything she asks. But he wouldn’t because both of them love the fight.
They dancing around each other on a heist. Step forward, step back, a jump - one missed move and one of them is dead. It’s intoxicating. It’s dangerous. It’s what both of them love the most.
Step, step, step - and Lupin grabs Fuhiko’s waist before she could jump to the ladder. World blooms with reds.
“Oh, you apparently a feisty redhead! Suits you”
Fujiko slaps him before leaving. The mark on his face is also red.
A lot of people tried to kill Lupin in course of his lifetime, Some were better, some were worse. But no one was even close to Goemon. People who were trained to perfection lacked passion. The passionate ones lacked the skill and discipline.
Goemon was perfect.
When they fight together for the first time Lupin is caught glancing at Goemon fighting a little bit too often. He just can’t avert his gaze from swift gracious moves of a sword, how Goemon’s elegant hands disappear under the loose sleeves only to appear again. They didn’t touch. The work is done quickly and graciously, like everything else Goemon does. Lupin didn’t even get the chance to shake his hand in the end. Maybe next time.
Next time comes by, and Lupin is ecstatic to play with the samurai again. He outsmarts him, and in revenge, Goemon slices his car. They stand there, looking at each other for a while, before falling down in the laughter.
“How about joining us?” says Lupin extending his hand to Goemon. Few seconds pass before a nod is an answer. Handshake is awkward and too polite, but Lupin’s word now overflood with blues. The sky is so bright now, and his jacket is almost painful to look at.
Goemon is awestruck, looking around, while Lupin laughs once again.
“Looks like I’m finally collected the palette”