Archive of Our Own

The venue was buzzing with movement and chatter as servers raced in and out of the main ballroom carrying trays and platters and chairs and things. Round tables were adjusted and placemakers were set; not a single piece of dinnerware was cast out of place. Gaudy vases of flowers marked every dozenth wine glass and cream colored name cards sat on their respective plates.

It was amazing what money could buy when you had a whole fuck ton of it. Kokichi suspected that, if they had the funds, they would’ve carved every chandelier out of pure crystal as well.

The entire establishment was an example of what happened when you left an architect alone to their own devices for too long. It was a sickeningly twisted tower of harsh angles that spiraled into the clouds—an eyesore if Kokichi ever saw one. He could give it points for creativity but had to deduct twice as much for the sheer impracticality of it all.

They were on the fifth floor of the tower trying to ready the venue for the main event: the Towa Group Charity Ball. It was a yearly auction party that was supposed to entice rich and powerful assholes into giving away their hard hoarded cash.

Everyone in the city knew about this event which is why everyone and their mother was talking about it on every outlet of social media to date. Towa Group’s new CEO was to appear after a year’s hiatus from any sort of interviews or news coverage. Pages and forums were flooded with speculation about the head Towa and his mysterious hands-off approach to running a large corporation.

The main stage of the ballroom was adorned with pieces of artwork that ranged from paintings to sculptures. They were priceless art pieces that had been donated by Towa Group for the auction. All of them were original pieces created by rising contemporary artist Angie Yonaga to help raise money for children and hospitals and children in hospitals. Her work was well renowned for the precision and craftsmanship she’d pour into each piece. Every stroke was guided by the hand of God, she’d claim in interviews, and no one piece was alike.

Her artwork sat in wait as behind-the-scenes runners ushered camera men and lighting technicians to and fro the stage. Shimmering sheets of red velvet draped along both sides of the walls while speakers hung from above.

Everyone winced as the audio engineer tested the mics.

Kokichi rolled back and forth on his heels, hands tucked behind his head, while he observed the excitement from his table. He was stationed in the back corner from the stage near the main doors, dressed in his own Sunday’s best with a notepad at the ready and doodles already drawn.

The venue had his full attention and he absorbed every detail. Ditsy or unusual servers got their names written down and he made awfully sure to pay close attention to how many uniforms there were for each job.

His scribbles were a mess of lines and notes that could’ve meant nothing or everything at once. There was so much to keep track of when you were as thorough as he was, and Kokichi was always deliberate with his work.

He’d had little distraction since his first arrival except for a few guards that had come up to ID him due to his shady appearance. In response he’d had to flash them his detective badge and pout and cry until they had absolutely memorized his face. Tch, annoying.

Security had been upped tenfold from previous years with men in black stationed at all of the exits and entrances to the ballroom. Runners were occasionally pulled aside at random for an identity check and all IDs were scanned whenever a front door swung open.

It was an absurd amount of precaution, a product of paranoia, and probably a waste of time too, but it was enough in the way of looks to make any aspiring thief feel nervous.

The air was electric with anticipation and possibility. Everyone’s hair seemed to stand on end. Even Kokichi could barely contain himself as it was.

Tonight was the big one—the night of a heist.

Kokichi had never had the chance to witness one in person and with any luck, this would be his first.

When his sector was called upon, it was usually for local disputes, vandalism, neighborhood robberies, or, on occasion, homicides. Being a detective wasn’t as glamorous as he had hoped when he’d been a starry eyed youth, and there was a lot more paperwork involved than he had liked.

The bureaucracy was boring and the harder cases seemed to go to the top. Never were Kokichi’s assignments as elaborate and as grand as stopping a heist, though he felt that reflected more on the criminals of the city than it did on himself.

His work usually had him handling suspects and witnesses during the aftermath of a crime. He was an ear to their confession and shattered hopes and dreams. Sniffing out lies had always been a talent of his, one that he’d made sure to utilize when dancing a legal noose around a suspect’s neck.

But this time was different. This time, he was going to catch himself a phantom thief.

The title was juvenile but captivating—media outlets loved to scream it in bold in their article headlines. Phantom thieves, by nature, were specimens of utmost skill. Ghastly in their abilities to break and enter without a sound and ghoulish with the agility to evade police, guards, and security cameras. They were the subject of constant contemplation for detectives, the thematic foils and rivals for those who operated on the other side. Setting puzzles, traps, and tricks, a phantom thief almost begged to be caught by someone of like mind. They were, in themselves, walking mysteries that challenged the craftiest of the force.

Kokichi had thought they were creatures of myth, lies told by Hollywood and mystery novel authors to get hopeful, young detectives to behave. But now, one had finally dropped into his lap!

When the case file had first been planted on his desk he was sure it was a prank. It had felt like a vindictive jab or some sad attempt at revenge. He had snorted at the feeble trick and assumed it was Idabashi trying to get back at him for all of the hard-ass robot jokes he made behind his back.

But then, his boss approached him out of nowhere with an expectant look that let Kokichi know that no jokes were to be had.

The thief—a phantom thief—had apparently stolen numerous art pieces from around the city. Museums, private collections—even the Togami Estate had been hit. The only reason there had been no news coverage of the crime was because it had only been recently discovered all at once.

The thief had covered their tracks by replacing each painting with a replica. The first painting discovered to be fake was found about a week ago during the preparations for the Charity Ball. The rest were soon discovered after.

The thief had targeted Yonaga originals, and only those pieces. It seems they were growing a collection, maybe building a shrine to her God?

Only a single souvenir was left behind in the wake of their crime, one that tied each theft together in a taught red string: a single playing card, the ace of spades.

Without the calling card, it would have been months or even years until the rest of the replicas had been discovered. That in itself had made this thief an interesting enigma. They evaded the limelight but still wanted notoriety. Had hubris been their downfall or was there something more at hand?

Kokichi had regarded the case file with skepticism. Even though his superior was never one to pull a gag, the case still seemed fishy.

“Eehhh?” he had cried, flipping through the few measly pages that had been offered to him. “What is this? My new assignment?” His curiosity had been triggered but he was still disappointed. This was a phantom thief? How were they different from any other art thief schmuck? “Where’s the theatrics? The showmanship? The flair to punctuate each crime?”

His attention flew to Kirigiri and her optimistic partner. The senior inspectors exchanged a look between each other, one not entirely unfamiliar to him. It said, oh brother, here we go again.

Naegi spoke up first, “Well, whoever this culprit is, they’ve been causing quite a stir. Our agents have investigated each crime scene top to bottom but have come up with nothing. It seems that our thief’s lack of ‘showmanship’ might be what’s making it hard to discern their identity or even a propper M.O.”

Kirigiri took the case file from Kokichi’s hands.

“Whoever this thief is, they are quite thorough,” she said, flipping through the scarce files. “They’d figured out the ins and outs of many highly secure museums and estates only to grift one painting from each. They’ve covered their tracks so well, we can’t be sure when these crimes even occurred. For the last few days we were reliant on clients first realizing that feats of grand theft had even been performed.”

Kokichi huffed and folded his arms. “Geez, if it took them that long to realize something of value was stolen from them, then maybe they didn’t value it at all. Are you sure you want to be wasting your—and more importantly my—time with this?”

Naegi broke into a nervous grin, embarrassment quick to paint his face. Kirigiri remained stoic as always, though her lips tilted into a frown.

“I wouldn’t discount the case because of that!” Naegi exclaimed. He scratched his chin bashfully. “Maybe it lacks showy dramatics, but I would’ve thought that you of all people would be interested in this. A real phantom thief who leaves no evidence behind? An uncrackable case? Doesn’t that sound like a fun challenge?”

“Ppfffft, you think I’d find this challenging?” Kokichi scoffed. “This has got to be one of the most boring cases I’ve ever seen.”

Kirigiri’s lavender eyes pierced through him.

“If that’s the case then we’re sorry for bothering you. We’ll find someone else to look into it,” she replied, snapping the file shut. Kokichi’s hands twitched at the sight.

“I never said I wouldn’t do it!” Kokichi interjected, reaching for the file. “I just said it’ll be boring to do. I bet I can crack it within a week!” Kirigiri didn’t say anything, but a knowing smile graced her lips.

“We already suspect the thief will target the Towa Group Charity Ball. One of the paintings they’d prepared for the auction had already been replaced which leaves the rest of the collection up for grabs,” she explained. “If their goal is to steal all of Yonaga’s works, this might be where they’ll make their debut.”

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah,” Kokichi chided. “Give me time to look over it and I’ll get you your guy.”

Kirigiri nodded her head while Naegi beamed at him.

“Fantastic!” The living embodiment of sunshine said.

“We look forward to seeing your progress,” The inquisitive ice queen added, and soon they were out of his messy, purple hair.

Instantly, the file was cast open again, documents strewn across his desk. Kokichi had never been more excited.

…”Never” had kind of been an over exaggeration. As Kokichi watched staff members trip over themselves to please the interior designer, he felt a twinge of impatience coursing through his veins. He shook out his arms and hands to try to dispel his pent up energy.

There was a chance that nothing would happen tonight, that their “phantom thief” was merely a ruse by a prankster intent on keeping the police on their toes. If that were the case, Kokichi would have been very disappointed and there was nothing he hated more than being disappointed.

The extra layers of security on the fifth floor were incredible but also worrisome. Any criminal would take a look at that and instantly 180 out of there. He knew they were supposed to be discouraging theft and crimes of any sort, but Kokichi was antsy and a bit selfish.

He wanted to see someone attempt this heist.

Oh, how he hungered for a thief to rival his intellect. He was wasted at his agency, if he was being honest (which he super duper was!) Boredom was not a bad problem to have if you were anyone else but him and it was a wonder he hadn’t been fired by now….

Kokichi had mulled over the case with easy fascination, wondering what clues or riddles were hidden in the depths. He examined each playing card searching for a sign, a puzzle, a secret code, or anything! But there was nothing out of the ordinary, only thirteen decks of cards in the world that would forever remain incomplete.

That in itself seemed to be the mystery outside of the “who” and “what”. Why leave a calling card and nothing more? Why call attention to this crime in the wake of such a grandiose opportunity and not make a move? Why steal Yonaga paintings of all things? Why, why, why—

“Ouma-kun! Sit down, you’re freaking me out!” Idabashi whined. Kokichi’s partner was seated at their assigned table, thumbing his fingers. His wide and attentive eyes were fixated on Kokichi’s restless song and dance.

“I’m just warming up for the ball later!” Kokichi exclaimed. “Don’t you want to be ready to hit the dance floor after the auction portion is over? Idabashi-chan really needs to get that stick out of his ass!”

“I do not have a stick in my ass!” Idabashi argued. God, he was too easy to provoke. The premium blond detective was Kokichi’s partner of one year. He was a novice who had technology smarts and only technology smarts. Take him out of a media lab and he was almost clueless.

“Geez! We’re going to capture a phantom thief tonight, you could at least act all revved up and excited!” Kokichi cried.

“Didn’t we already check every floor of the building? There’s no way a thief could sneak in.”

Kokichi grimaced at the memory.

Yes, Kokichi’s sector had checked each of the angular floors prior to the ball. From the roof and main office to the basement and ground floors, they had checked all ninety nine stories, not that it mattered. Say someone crawled in through the fire escape and was hiding in a storage closet somewhere on the eighty-eight, the fifth floor was still fortified beyond belief. Towa had halved the security guards patrolling around the tower to add more eyes to the ballroom. No one without a proper ID was getting in or out of the ball once the event was starting.

They’d even been allowed into the CEO’s office to check for possible entry points under the watchful eye of Haiji Towa.

“I just can’t believe this happened,” Towa said as Kokichi nosied around. “We have top notch security, there’s no way a thief could’ve broken into my father’s private collection. How could this have happened?”

“Best security money can buy, eh?” Kokichi muttered under his breath from the left window that spanned the entire wall. The view oversaw most of the city, though, at this height, it felt as though the tower were swaying.

Towa was pacing the room mumbling nonsense to himself. “We can’t have another media scandal on our hands, we just can’t.”

Towa was a wind up box of insecurity that had been paved over with the best slather of bravado money could buy. Kokichi didn’t need special prowess to deduce that this man was one bad week away from bringing his entire company to ruin.

The Towa Group was one of the wealthiest conglomerates in the city. Since the previous patriarch’s death about a year ago, Haiji had taken power and swore off his predecessor’s corrupt business practices. They actually did bring a lot of scandals to light in the wake of Towa Senior’s passing, though that might have been because one of their internal programmers had fled the country with terabytes upon terabytes of information.

Surely there were still secrets and conspiracies to be found in this office, but Kokichi was a detective not a journalist. His eyes were set on a different hypothetical prize.

He supposed he understood why the current Towa was ready to go off at any second; the Towa Group Charity Ball was supposed to help raise Towa Group’s reputation and get people’s minds away from the past. Towa needed the event to be squeaky clean or risk being stuck in his old man’s shadow.

Towa’s office sat on the top floor of the tower where it was connected to the ground floor through four express elevators. It was a large open space that sported its own conference table and minibar. Luxurious waiting chairs surrounded a coffee table stacked with the latest and greatest in fashion magazines. Modern bookshelves lined the right wall while a large display case filled the back. A computer monitor and PC were built into Towa’s desk in a fancy, minimalist way. He even had a shitty laser keyboard to boot.

The entire room was overlooked by a large, painted portrait of Towa’s father, Tokuichi framed in bronze. If that didn’t scream old money, Kokichi wasn’t sure what did.

Being so close to the rooftop, they had to check vents, windows, and ceiling panels, all at Towa’s request.

“If it makes you feel better, I really don’t think anyone is going to crawl through here,” Kokichi said, peering into the top, metal vent. He could barely fit his head through as it was. “Show me the fire escape?”

Towa erred, hesitant, but eventually relented. Down the right hallway was an emergency door “There’s an alarm system for this stairwell so I can’t show you the layout without it going off.”

Well, if it were anything like the main staircase then it was inexplicably, horribly designed. The main stairs spiraled around in a triangular pattern to match the shape of the twisted triangular tower. God, rich people sucked.

They had determined that the office was secure, and, even if it wasn’t, the main ball definitely was. The best they could do from there was secure the actual event and ensure the auction pieces were under constant surveillance.

This part of the job was sooo boring. Kokichi understood why Kirigiri had dumped it on him instead of taking it herself.

“We’re just extra security tonight, nothing more,” he grumbled. “I was used! Betrayed!” He let out a squabbly wail.

“Stop it! You’re going to make a scene,” Idabashi scolded. “And didn’t you just say you were excited for this?”

“That was a lie,” Kokichi chirped. He bounced into his chair and booped his partner on the nose. “You’re totally right, we should be relaxing and enjoying the sweet party digs!”

Idabashi cringed. “I didn’t say we should do that. We should be on lookout but be confident in our comrades as well.”

“Suurree,” Kokichi replied. He returned to doodling waitstaff in his notebook.

His attention should have been on the priceless artwork on stage, but there were already members of their sector sweeping the area. With so many eyes pointed around, Kokichi felt as though something was bothering him about this whole case.

It was too clean cut, too preventable, too over the top—almost as if this whole phantom thief plot was a set up. There was no way anyone was getting to the stage, much less away from it, had they really gone so overkill over a few measly paintings?

Kokichi ran the hypotheticals in his head. Even in a black out, a thief would be trapped. The entire fifth floor was set to go on lockdown at a moment’s notice. There were no windows in the ballroom for anyone to break and even if they tried the vents, police would be on the scene before they wormed their way out.

The stairwell was blocked by security on the fifth and ground floor. Of the forty elevators scattered around the building, two were broken and only eight would be in operation. Those eight would house a custodian inside at all times, the rest would be unusable without the proper keycard, one of which had been given to Kokichi’s crew for the duration of the night.

No sane person could break into this event without some kind of miracle and Kokichi seriously doubted the thief would try to acquire all of the paintings legally through the auction.

So—what gives? Did Kokichi lack the imagination to put this whole thing together or was he simply overthinking it?

He did have one theory, but it was too fucking nuts to even consider.

But…what if—...?

“Ouma-kun! They’re letting guests in now,” Idabashi said, jolting Kokichi out of his thoughts.

He shook his head and swung his gaze over the incoming crowd. Fancy dressed rich people were slowly being let in one ID scan at a time. It was everything Kokichi expected from a dinner party curated for the one percent: pearls and fancy peacock hats sprouted from the necks and heads of the well dressed, blobs of fully tuxedo’d elderly folk meandered towards their tables. All of a sudden, Kokichi felt incredibly under dressed.

“We’re being shown up!” Kokichi cried, clinging onto Idabashi as a wave of tears streamed down his face. “Quick, give me your scarf!”

His partner stammered in objection, not a “yes-and” to be seen.

“Y-you’re the one who wanted to wear that!” Idabashi countered, pulling his white scarf closer around his neck. “I’m not helping you dress up now!”

“Buuttt Kiiboyyy,” Kokichi whined.

He didn’t have much in terms of fancywear as he’d never been invited to such a luxurious event before. These types of things were too stuffy for him anyway, so he had decided to configure a makeshift outfit out of thrift store clothes instead of renting a suit.

What he’d come up with was still the fanciest thing he’d ever put together: a white casual suit paired with an obnoxious purple shirt, and a checkered ascot he’d fashioned from one of his signature handkerchiefs. When he’d told Amami about this event, he’d been given a white vest with the strict instructions not to spill wine on it. Adding a handful of hair gel and a pair of purple socks, the look was complete.

Idabashi had taken an almost non-approach to the whole dressing up thing. He'd bundled himself in suit jackets and overcoats and somehow managed to be more suspicious than Kokichi was.

At least their perch from the back allowed them to remain somewhat inconspicuous.

By the time most of the one-percent had filed into the ballroom, the lights had dimmed slightly. Security guards not-so-subtly patrolled beneath the stage and many of the ballroom’s doors were being locked shut.

Towa was standing awkwardly to the side of his podium, mic feedback going off every time he tried to get too close from his angle.

All the guards were on high alert, searching and scanning for discrepancies or suspicious activity. The security team was hyper focused on the wealthy guests, keeping tabs on anyone who stood up or seemed to be looking around at the well designed decorations a bit too much. It was laughable really. They were wasting their time stretching their attention so thin.

It was times like these that Kokichi wished he were on the opposite side. He would’ve made for an excellent phantom thief if he were just a bit more daring and didn’t need a steady income.

With everyone’s attention focused on the Yonaga pieces and Haiji Towa’s melting wax-like face, the rest of the damn tower was extremely vulnerable to—

To….

Instantly, Kokichi sprung to his feet, his hands slapping the table. Heads snapped in his direction, with quizzical and infuriated eyes trained on his every movement. His body felt electrified as though every nerve was singing. Even Idabashi’s nervous glare bounced right off him.

“I have to piss really bad!” Kokichi declared to the horror and disgust of everyone else at his table. “‘Scuse me, Idabashi-chan! You’re not allowed to watch!” Idabashi sputtered as though his brain had hit a 404 error while Kokichi bounded out the main doors.

He flashed the guards at the door his detective badge as well as his Towa sanctioned ID all while hopping from leg to leg. “Duty calls!” He sang as they quickly dismissed him.

He immediately shot off, sprinting towards the center elevators—the only four that went up to the top.

Kokichi didn’t work on hunches. Facts and logic usually dictated his world, but he was a bit of a gambling man. The gamble tonight was their phantom thief. Either they were a tactical genius or a total dunce. Betting against the latter, Kokichi chose to have a little faith.

Three facts became clear to him:

One, by targeting only Yonaga’s work, the thief was building false value in her art. This forced collectors and private organizations to keep a closer eye on the pieces that they still had.

Two, everyone knew about the Towa Group Charity Ball as well as Yonaga’s artistic contributions months in advance. It wouldn’t have been hard to guess that her paintings and sculptures would be moved from Towa sponsored art galleries to Towa Tower for the Ball.

Three, by leaving their calling card behind, the thief exposed their past thefts and fabrications. Tying in with fact two, this would only bring more eyes to the Charity Ball auction and heighten security a ludicrous amount in the wake of Towa Group’s new “anti-scandal” policies.

Jamming the up button didn’t seem to make the elevators speed down any faster. So much for being the leading innovators in technology. Another round of security detail hollered something from behind him, but Kokichi only flashed them his credentials with a grin.

“Super secret detective work guys,” he crooned over his accelerated heartbeat. “Don’t believe me? Ask Towa-chan yourself!” Immediately they stopped. The security guards seemed to genuinely take heed to his lie. They glanced at one another in nervous confusion and muttered something he couldn’t hear.

Wow, Towa-chan employed a bunch of incompetent losers!

All the better for Kokichi to sneak into the elevator, scan his ID, and slap the button for the top floor.

If he was wrong about this, he would be in so much trouble. That was if Idabashi tattled and Kokichi couldn’t talk his way out of it. This was a risk and the risk of a lifetime!

If the thief were anything like him, this would be their plan. If their thought process resembled his in the slightest they would be up there.

He hoped and prayed to Yonaga’s God that he might be right.

The elevator doors flew open and Kokichi was already running down the hall and into Towa’s office where—

“STOP!” Kokichi shrieked, adrenaline pumping in his ear. He wielded a pair of handcuffs in front of him as though they were a weapon and willed the ghostly silhouette to obey.

A splotch of white stood out against the darkened room. They were illuminated only by the stars and the computer monitor that they were hunched over. The oil painting of Tokuichi Towa was gone from its frame, though no replacement had been put in its stead.

The thief was truly a phantom against the moonlight—a pale apparition cast in shadow. They paused at his outburst, elegant with each movement, before they stood up to greet him. Shit, they were tall.

From his distance in the doorway, a full conference table and office desk separated Kokichi and his thief. He couldn’t tell if they were armed or not.

There had been no evidence in the case file to suggest that the thief was violent. That’s what separated a burglary from a mugging. Still, there was no evidence to suggest they would be peaceful either.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, crook!” Kokichi ordered, taking a step inside the office. Up the pressure, but not too much too fast. “You’re under arrest!”

Haunting eyes leered at him through a smooth, white mask. An artificial, toxic pink seared through Kokichi’s purple. He felt himself freeze, heart skipping a beat in awe, or fear.

Kokichi reached around his belt to withdraw his walkie talkie.

“Idabashi-chan! You won’t believe it but I got the thief! We’re on the top floor, CEO’s office, get here ASAP! Over!” Kokichi called. All the while the thief in question stood statue still, hands still obscured. “Oi! What did I just say! Hands up!”

The thief’s gaze swept over him, their jawbone clenched in thoughtful consideration. They moved slowly, their hands raising up to about their shoulders. Something glimmered in their right hand but with the flick of their wrist it was gone.

“What was that!?” Kokichi demanded. “What did you just steal!?”

The thief offered nothing except a knowing smile. They studied him, a slight tilt to their head as they immediately sized him up. Kokichi studied them in turn.

They’re wearing contact lenses, was Kokichi’s first thought and, what a beautiful ghost, was his second.

The thief was also clad in white and dressed to the nines as though staying in theme with the ball below. Golden tassels lined their suit, connecting the jacket’s white lapels to each other. Dark leather gloves peeked out of their sleeves and a long decadent earring dangled from their left ear. They had a greater fashion budget than Kokichi did and immediately he felt envious.

The thief brushed dark locks of hair out of their eyes. It ebbed from their head and flowed, like ink, right into the negative space of their mask. A fanciful cape swung from their shoulders—and maybe that’s what took Kokichi out of the moment.

He couldn’t help himself; he laughed.

He laughed and laughed and laughed, because he’d been right—he’s always fucking right. Perhaps this was his chance—perhaps he had finally met someone as deranged as he was. He hoped it wasn’t a dream.

When he was finished cackling, he smiled, all teeth.

“Well, well, well,” Kokichi bellowed, slipping into a mask of his own. He forced his features to twist into mania. “At last, I’ve caught you, phantom thief! Or should I say, The Ace of Spades?” He cackled again, whole chest, in hopes of catching the thief off guard. His spouts of controlled irrationality usually did well to throw people off their game, but the phantom thief remained unbothered.

Kokichi was well aware he had no real weapons—he wasn’t one to carry a gun or taser. All he had was his silver tongue, a pair of handcuffs, and a batshit insane personality. He hoped that was enough to subdue his thief.

He needed to stall for Idabashi’s arrival. He hoped his dull partner would hurry.

The thief held a hand to their chin as though they needed to think about Kokichi’s threat level instead of instantly believing that he was a feral bundle of atoms ready to detonate at any time. Their magenta eyes flickered to indicate they had reached their conclusion, and a distant grin slid across their lips.

“‘The Ace of Spades’,” The thief—Spades—mused with the click of their tongue. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think? Did you come up with that yourself?” Their voice rang softer than Kokichi expected, and sounded more polite too. They were deliberately keeping it low, however; it was their attempt to better blend into their mask. Practiced was the word Kokichi wanted to use, though rehearsed might have worked better.

Kokichi pretended to take offense, clutching at his chest as though he’d been stabbed.

“I worked so hard on that name, you know?” He sobbed, laying the crocodile tears on thick. “Put my whole body and soul into it! It was all for you my beloved! How you wound me so!” And, just as easily, he returned to jabbing the cuffs in Spades’ direction. “If you don’t like the alias then I can come up with something better, just turn yourself in!”

They almost seemed to entertain the option—or maybe they were merely evaluating Kokichi’s theatrics. Under the glint of their radioactive stare, Kokichi felt as though he were on fire.

At last they said, all hushed and subdued, “I think I’ll pass on the offer.”

Playful were they? Kokichi loved the sound of that.

“Awh maannnn,” he sighed, all disappointed. “Guess I’ll just have to kill you! This whole building is surrounded by my corrupt subordinates, you know! You’ll never escape!”

Spades, hands still in the open, took a careful step to the side. A test perhaps. Kokichi allowed it and also inched closer.

The purple haired detective wanted to pounce, but the thief’s compliance was unnerving.

Where was Idabashi?

“You’re a detective, are you not?” Spades asked, slow and drawn out. “Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights? Threatening a suspect before charges are made seems tacky, don’t you think?”

Kokichi dropped his facade and took two bold strides. “I was lying of course! You know, jesting with a jester, as your appearance can attest.” Spades hummed a reply.

“I’m a bit impressed,” Spades said, “that you knew I’d be up here. Pray tell, detective, what gave me away?”

“Cameras,” Kokichi replied without missing a beat. “I’ve rigged security cameras all over this place!” A lie, not that Spades needed to know.

“No, that’s wrong. Try again.” Spades chided. A sick shade of pink washed over Kokichi’s face. He pivoted.

“I’ve been watching you all this time, Spades-chan!” He sang, half-schoolgirl, half-lunatic. “For years now, I’ve been stalking you from the shadows, waiting for my beloved to appear in real life!”

The thief opened their mouth as if to retort, but seemed to think better of it. Tch. Too bad—any correction or clarification they would’ve made about their plans would have helped Kokichi crack this case even wider.

“I’d like a real answer, if you can muster the effort,” Spades deadpanned with disappointment. “It seems that telling the truth is hard for you. Maybe you simply can’t.”

“If you love the truth so much, why don’t you tell me what you were doing up here instead,” Kokichi snapped. “Where are the stolen paintings? What did you hide in your sleeve?”

Their eyes narrowed but they gave away no other tells. “You first,” the thief nodded. “It seems we have time. The elevators here are, ah, quite slow, aren’t they?”

Another statement that wasn’t false. Kokichi couldn’t hear the sound of an elevator rising and Idabashi still hadn’t responded to his call. He was starting to feel nervous, and Kokichi Ouma never felt nervous.

He should’ve brought Idabashi up here with him. He should’ve—

“I just figured, ya know? I’m like a super criminal genius! It was only a matter of time before I put the pieces together,” Kokichi answered. “It’s what I would’ve done! Sucker everyone in the ballroom while you have a ball right here—only true criminal masterminds could come up with something so devious! And convoluted, geez,” He was creeping closer and closer to the thief with small, measured steps. “Now you, answer my questions.”

Spades regarded him with caution but that stupid idle smile never left their face.

“Hm, we think alike,” they agreed. “I guess fair is fair. You answered a question for me, so I’ll answer one for you: the paintings are being held in a storage facility near the public library. Unit 154. You don’t need a code, just cut the lock. They served their use, you can have them back if you want.”

“Just like that, huh?” Kokichi found himself asking. He was so close. If he just took another step he could reach them. “So much for being an art connoisseur! You sure you don’t love lies as much as me, Spades-chan?”

Spades began to answer when Kokichi took his chance. He lunged, reaching for an arm or a sleeve to sink his claws into. Spades took a sweeping step to the side, skirting just out of the way. The world lurched forward—Kokichi was on track to bulldoze into the office desk when two firm hands took hold of his wrists. The thief utilized his momentum to swing Kokichi back onto his feet and then pulled him close.

“What are you doing!? Stop!” Kokichi snarled as he was thrust to the side. Their hands intertwined as Spades pulled him into mock ballroom position. Kokichi seethed. He tried to thrash his way out of Spade’s grasp and step on their perfect white boots, but the rhythm was sweet and Kokichi couldn’t pull away from their iridescent stare. Bemused at Kokichi’s growing irritation, the thief let out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t love lies,” Spades whispered in his ear, leading the makeshift waltz. “But I find the truth hurts more, so why pursue it?” Kokichi resisted the performance, and it definitely wasn’t because he didn’t know how to dance.

“The truth sucks,” Kokichi agreed with teeth, “but I hate liars the most. Despicable assholes who think they’re better than everyone else—what makes you so special, huh?” The world jerked as Spades tilted him into a dip. The thief’s grip loosened, forcing Kokichi to cling to their hands or be dropped.

“Hypocrite,” Spades breathed, no bite. Somehow that wounded Kokichi’s pride more than the dance.

On the return, their faces pulled close and Kokichi’s breath hitched. He realized, with horror, that he was enjoying this. This moment was just between him and his ghost, the playful phantom entertaining him. He’d only wished he’d taken the lead.

“This was fun,” Spades admitted, “but I think you should quit while you’re ahead.” With that, Spades jerked him to the side, whirling the both of them around. With a flourish, Spades twirled Kokichi away from them before finally letting go. It took Kokichi an extra five seconds to get back in the game, but he was an extra five seconds too late.

“Hey!” Kokichi screamed as Spades ran for the door, their previous positions switched. He gave chase, obviously, while words and lies spilled out of his mouth. “I’ll have my secret organization hunt you down for this! We won’t stop until we find you! This is an act of treason! Get back here Spades-chan!”

Spades bolted down the hallway, past the emergency stairs, and bee-lined for one of the four elevators. For one, the door was somewhat wedged open by something, setting it apart from the others.

“That one’s broken, shithead!” Kokichi called, unsure if it was true or not. Alarm seized him as Spades pulled at the door and it easily gave way, sliding open to reveal an empty shaft.

The detective skidded to a halt, unsure what stupid, suicidal thing his thief was about to do.

“Don’t!” He shouted, genuinely afraid. “Don’t—! You don’t have to do this. I'm not going to hurt you—you’re just in trouble for larceny, that’s all, no need to do anything rash....I-I don't want you to jump.”

The thief peered down the elevator shaft, not a single tremble in their step.

“Hey detective,” Spades murmured, tone gentle and warm. “You told the truth, proud of you.”

Kokichi tried to reach them, but they had already taken a step off the floor and disappeared into the void without another word.

The horrid sound of rope burn and friction echoed up the shaft and—almost immediately—an alarm went off.

Red floodlights washed over every floor, a buzzer shrieked in robotic monotone. Kokichi’s walkie talkie crackled to life with Idabashi’s concerned disdain. His knees turned to jelly as he stared into the abyss, waiting with baited breath for a horrific splat.

It never came, much to Kokichi’s relief, but the adrenaline and shock still coursed through him. He noted an industrial hook embedded into the floor—it had been the object keeping the elevator open. A grappling hook? This high?

He didn’t have time to ponder it. The other elevators soon shot to the top and security detail immediately grabbed him. They detained Kokichi to an empty conference room as the fucking idiots still didn’t seem to recognize him from all the hours before—but Kokichi wasn’t in the moment. His head was still swimming in tune with a musicless waltz and swirls of hallowed magenta.

As security guards screamed and yelled in his ear to explain himself, all Kokichi could see was his thief dancing around his peripheral. They asked and prodded and shouted at him to tell them where Tokuichi Towa’s portrait disappeared to, where the phantom thief went, and why he’d come to this floor. They threatened to rough him up if they didn’t see any identification and Kokichi knew they would too.

Brain stuffed with cotton, Kokichi slowly withdrew his credentials from his pocket. He opened his badge to show the security guards his ID and nearly pissed himself laughing when a single playing card fell out.