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If Kaito were to ask about the kind of research conducted at Hakuba Laboratories, he’s certain the answer would be swept under the rug.
As far as he can tell, it dabbles in all sorts of fields —something something biochemistry, something, something robotics, something, something genetics— and boasts a vast collection of researchers, each more eccentric than the last. Birds of a feather flock together, and considering Hakuba's family background reads exactly like that of a tacky comic book villain, Kaito wouldn't be surprised if they had a vat of radioactive chemicals tucked away in a basement somewhere; a prime hazard for some unlucky dumbass to slip inside. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, really, and Kaito wants nothing to do with it. Not until Hakuba shows up to a heist donning neon green hair and a suit that finally embodies his clownish self inside and out.
— No. Even then, Kaito wants nothing to do with it, period.
So he doesn’t ask. There’s no use in asking anyway, because Kaito doesn’t care about what Hakuba gets up to during after-school hours in the first place. What Hakuba’s family does is none of his business, so Kaito definitely doesn’t care when Hakuba starts looking into astrophysics, of all things.
It’s not that he cares, not in the slightest — it’s just that the hefty textbooks his ridiculous classmate claims to be ‘light reading material’ are impossible to ignore. They’re old, and they’re dusty, and they’re impossibly boring, and just being in their proximity makes Kaito’s eyes itch and his nose run. Hakuba, inversely, remains completely unbothered, as if the air hanging around him wasn’t more at home in an abandoned attic than in a high-school classroom. His attention remains fixed on those inscrutable blocks of text Kaito cannot bother to read, and the dust particles suspended mid-air are sent into frenzied swirls with each soft breath Hakuba takes.
Every so often, Hakuba pauses to jot down a long string of numbers. Kaito doesn’t try to commit any of them to memory, but part of him feels like Hakuba’s sudden interest in distant nebulas and orbits is all too coincidental.
Whatever the case, becoming immersed in a topic until depleting all available information is standard Hakuba behaviour, and exploiting his family’s resources is only a means to achieving that end.
Kaito tries to make an off-handed jab at that, and Hakuba shuts his book without delay. He bears that gentle and infuriating smile of his — one that emits an almost taunting warmth at the cusp of midwinter — and looks at Kaito with something that could be mistaken with an almost reverential affection before saying, tone disgustingly cloying:
‘There are topics that can never be exhausted.’
And what makes Kaito’s chest soar and his mind race at the words must be revulsion.
If Kaito were to look into Hakuba’s maternal side of the family, he’d be sure to find either some intelligence agency, secret royalty, or some ancient templar cult. All of the above, even. One can never know with Hakubastard.
From time to time, he’ll admit to feeling morbidly curious, but that’s only natural when you consider everything about the guy is absurd; it’d be weirder for him not to wonder at all.
He casts the thought away, however. Knowing one Hakuba is already one Hakuba too many, and Kaito wants nothing to do with the lot of them. Whatever the case, Kaito should thank them: at least for tonight, they’ve made his life easier by getting the young master away from him.
KID is performing for the last time this year, and Hakuba is nowhere in sight.
After a lengthy phone call with London, Hakuba had left for Haneda Airport in a hurry. Aoko had told Kaito as much, just a couple of hours before the heist.
Kaito had been relieved, overjoyed, ecstatic at the news. A Hakuba-less heist is always a win in his book, so why the hell wouldn’t he be? Common sense dictates that one less meddling detective would make for an easier heist.
—So why the hell is he having such a hard time?!?
Kaito began struggling as soon as the heist began. It’s unusual, too. Unlike times when Hakuba or Meitantei — or even Nakamori-keibu on a really good day — are being a thorn in his side, today’s hurdles are all of Kaito’s own making. As if all motivation had been sucked from him before the heist had begun, his every movement feels sluggish, clumsy, inept. He’s lagging behind.
With the entire Task Force on his heels, Kaito runs.
His phone buzzes in his pocket during the middle of his getaway. It must be Aoko, he believes, trying to find him after he’d snuck away earlier that night.
Nakamori-keibu is trailing close behind, but there’s enough distance between them for him to answer, if only to stop her from worrying. Fishing his phone out from his pocket, he picks up.
“Yo, Aoko!” He says in reflex, jumping down another flight of stairs and taking cover in the corner. “Now’s not a great ti—”
“Kuroba-kun.”
In face of the unmistakable voice coming from the receiver. Kaito slides to a complete halt, mind running a thousand times faster than his legs would ever allow, and runs face-first into the nearest wall.
“Huh—Ow! Hakuba?! What are you— Where are you—?!”
If Aoko had told him the truth, Hakuba should be on a plane halfway to London right now, so how come?!
“The heist’s live transmission on board hasn’t been as smooth as I would have hoped,” Hakuba says, explaining nothing. There’s a mechanical whirr in the background that doesn’t subside, and the pieces slowly come together in Kaito’s mind: Is Hakuba calling mid-flight?!
“If my guesses were correct, I suspect you should be headed into the vent system on the eighteenth floor—”
He’s briefly interrupted by the shouts coming from the upper floor, and Kaito once again breaks into a run.
“Oh? You’re still on the stairway? It appears the transmission is not at fault for the three-minute delay, after all.”
“Shut up, you—”
“There is another viable point of entry in the hallway to your left, six meters in,” Hakuba says at once. “Far less conspicuous. Go.”
Against his better judgement, Kaito heeds the advice. Sure enough, the asshole is right. It’s so absurd, it borders on fantastical, but his body acts on instinct, despite his utter disbelief.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” Kaito hisses as he crawls into the vent and away from sight. “I’m not KID.”
Hakuba only laughs.
By the time Kaito’s completely slipped the police’s grasp, he stands at the rooftop, watching as the Task Force chases the wrong lead into the distance, their sirens slowly fading away into the urban blur.
Hakuba, inexplicably, remains on the line.
“If you wanted to see KID so bad, you should’ve just stayed,” Kaito grouses.
“I’m sorry.” Hakuba sounds genuinely remorseful, and it tugs at Kaito’s heartstrings. “An acquaintance offered valuable leads on an important matter, but she’ll only be in London until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh,” Kaito utters simply. A matter more important than KID—he thinks sullenly— if it made Hakuba skip on the heist.
Hakuba must read his thoughts, because he is quick to elaborate, speaking in a tone so soothing, anyone else would interpret it as an attempt to pacify him.
“It’s about the orbit of a certain comet.”
Kaito’s pulse races at the sudden realization.
A comet. Of course. How much does Hakuba know?
“Oh,” he repeats in a stunning display of eloquence.
“Does the name PN G054.203.4 mean anything to you, Kuroba-kun?” Hakuba asks.
…Nevermind. Kaito’s lost him now.
“…Hah? What are you going on about now?”
“The Necklace Nebula,” Hakuba adds. “It came to be roughly 10,000 years ago, when a large star engulfed a smaller one.”
“You mean it trapped it,” Kaito interjects.
“Enveloped it,” comes Hakuba’s correction. “The smaller star remained intact inside it and continued its orbit. The rotation sent fragments of the larger star into space, like an escaping circle of debris, creating the impression of a bright ring surrounding them. The stars remain close to each other, orbiting each other daily. From a distance, they appear as one.”
A doublet, Kaito realises, shining like a single gem somewhere out in a distant sky.
“... You’re calling just to tell me that? Little one should’ve ran away.”
“Well—” Hakuba chuckles, “— I’d like to believe it was given reason enough to stay.”
Leave it to this guy to be able to spin something like this into some sappy metaphor. Despite the winter chill, Kaito feels blood rise to his cheeks.
“Kuroba-kun?”
“What?”
“Considering you’re KID—”
“I’m not—”
“—’s greatest fan,” Hakuba adds. “Would you care to share your thoughts on what he’d think, if his goal lay in a gem of such cosmic proportions?”
Kaito pauses. What would he do if it came down to that?
It’d be an outrageous situation. So absurd, it’s barely even worth considering. Then again, so are murderous robots, and scheming pirates, and teenage witches, and self-important detectives so delusional they’re willing to interfere with his heists from another continent altogether.
So he’d just cross that bridge when it came to it.
For now, he feels himself grin widely.
“There is nothing I cannot steal, tantei-san, be it sun, moon or stars, —” he starts, voice low but clear, speaking with all of KID’s playful poise, and his smile only continues to spread when he hears Hakuba’s breath hitch. “—That’s what he’d probably say.”
Hakuba pauses briefly, gathering his thoughts, while Kaito steels himself in anticipation.
“Know then that I’d continue to chase him,—” Hakuba says at last, “—regardless of how far it may take me.”
“Even millions of light years away?” Kaito asks.
“And beyond,” Hakuba avows, with all the conviction in the world.
Kaito snorts, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Why, it’s just the truth, Kuroba-kun.”
From where Kaito stands, there isn’t much to find in the night sky. This tracks, considering he’s surrounded by a plethora of industrial smog and bright city lights. By mere force of habit, he raises tonight’s haul to the moonlight, unsurprised when there’s nothing.
Still, his gaze remains fixed above, picturing Hakuba flying overhead.
It should be the other way around, Kaito thinks. It’s so unfair that this hopeless detective always gets it wrong somehow.
“Say, Hakuba,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “any stars up there?”
Taken off-balance by the question, Hakuba takes a second to reply.
“…Yes. A myriad of them, in fact.” Another pause. “Though none of them are the one I’d like most to see.”
“Which ones? I’m bored off my ass, so just tell me.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“What, is the young master too busy? Can’t spare the time to teach lil’ ol’ me about the sky?” Kaito teases, and he can perfectly envision Hakuba’s mirthful eyes when he complies.
“I have seven hours and forty-three minutes, to be exact. Where should I start?”
Still clad in white, Kaito lies flat on the otherwise empty rooftop, ignoring the cold he hates so much.
“Don’t push your luck,” he says, closes his eyes, and allows Hakuba’s words to map out a distant starry sky.