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Goro had been on a lot of stakeouts since turning to private investigation. Mostly boring late-night affairs, spent around hotels and clubs, chasing actual affairs. Bored housewives, greedy businessmen, little sins and sown secrets that gave Goro a small thrill to dig up and drag into the light. It wasn’t chasing grand conspiracies and exposing the corrupt underbelly of society, not anymore. Not since everything with the Phantom Thieves had made him bow out of the spotlight, and chase whatever justice he could provide to those who needed it.
But not every Phantom Thief wanted to stay in the shadows, it seemed.
Dear Detectives and Private Investigators,
By midnight tonight, I will have liberated the remaining paintings mistakenly attributed to the fraudulent artist Madarame. They will be returned to their rightful creators, or their families.
You’ll find they look much better in their proper place.
Yours,
Arsene Lupin
A new name for an unseen face, in and out of his targets’ homes without a trace. Goro knew him as Joker, rather than Arsene – but the world thought Joker died in police custody, his thieves scattered to the winds. With no connection whatsoever to the ignoble fall of prime minister candidate Masayoshi Shido, and the various scandals exposed just before the election.
While the Phantom Thieves had been masters of blackmail, experts at convincing their targets to confess to their sins when the evidence of their wrongdoing became too great to ignore, ‘Arsene’ was more of a traditional thief. Still stealing from criminals hiding behind their grand riches, and exposing the corruption that had built their extensive fortunes – but also keeping some of their ill-gotten gains for himself.
Specifying private investigators in his calling card was new, and pointed. A declaration for Goro Akechi alone, announcing that he’d been keeping tabs on him, that he knew about his change in career. A challenge. One that Goro would not back down from.
And so he found himself standing silently in the dark, ready and waiting for his target to appear. Hours passed in the blink of an eye, Goro not daring to move from his post, until there was a flicker of movement at the window. His eyes went to it instantly, almost missing the near-silent rustle of fabric from the door.
More than one? He’d assumed that the Phantom Thieves’ revival was a one-man show, but of course the others wouldn’t be able to stay away-
He turned away from the window, flicking on his torch and aiming straight at the doorway. The light caught on the folds of a long black tailcoat, and a giddy, wicked smile sprang to Goro’s lips at catching his quarry. His face was hidden behind a familiar white domino mask, and as he raised his hands against the light the bold splash of red gloves seemed to throw the whole dark room into technicolour.
“Arsene,” Goro greeted, unable to keep the triumphant smile out of his voice. “Joker.” His smile curved a little softer around a shared secret. “Akira.”
Better used to the light, Akira’s silver eyes met Goro’s. A fresher thrill shot through Goro’s body. How long had it been, since those eyes were on him? Since their paths had crossed, on opposite sides of the battlefield?
“Akechi,” he replied. Goro had forgotten how his name sounded in that low, sonorous voice, and his hand flexed on the torch. “Long time no see.”
“And yet in a familiar scene,” Goro noted. “Liberating paintings rather than hearts now, are we?”
A shrug that somehow looked fluid answered him, like a cat stretching in the sun. “Some hearts will be lighter to have them back where they belong.”
His head tilted to the side, apparently at ease despite being caught. But of course this wasn’t the first time.
“You saw the calling card, you chose the right place, you found the thief. What next, investigator?”
What next indeed. He could call the police, but Akira would hardly allow himself to go quietly back into custody. A struggle, a battle, would have to follow. Overpowering Joker at the top of his game would be a thrill like no other, but while Akira knew about his change in career, Goro knew very little about what he had been doing since the thieves disbanded. There was a chance Akira was stronger than him now, and could overpower him in turn. And while the blood in his veins sang for the opportunity to prove himself, he wasn’t here to fight. He was here to win.
He spun his light away from Joker, pointing it straight at the painting hung proudly on the wall. A portrait of a woman resembling the one in Sayuri, staring longingly out of a window. A self-portrait, presented posthumously under another’s name.
“Kitagawa will want this back, won’t he?” Goro asked. “You’d better go, before someone calls the police.”
Akira didn’t move, continuing to stare. His uncertainty was adorable.
“I presume you know that this particular collector was part of Shido’s conspiracy? Gifted the painting for his loyalty. But no one knows about this particular piece, and he covered his tracks remarkably. If this painting vanishes, he likely won’t even report it missing, to save his own skin. Yet, if a concerned passerby sees a thief fleeing his home with a stolen painting the night Arsene Lupin announced his heist… well. That’s a connection that can’t be ignored, isn’t it?”
A wicked smile of his own crossed Akira’s face, half-hidden in shadow. Goro gestured for him to go and take it, and after a moment Akira acquiesced. He crossed the room like a shadow, passing close enough for Goro to feel the whisper of his coat, and he slid his hands delicately across the frame of the painting before tugging it away from the wall.
Goro watched him work, and soon enough he was slipping out of the door the way he came, leaving Goro to escape through the window that he had initially entered through, no other thief in sight. And as the thief and the PI separately fled the scene of the crime, Goro’s hand found itself in the side pocket that Joker had briefly ghosted past. His fingers brushed cardstock, and he pulled it out. In the dim light, he could just make out the flaming mask and top hat, and he smirked as he turned it over. A phone number winked back at him, and below it:
For my next heist, I will steal your heart.