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"It's simple, really," Kokichi said. "First, we alert the media outlets of your son's rescue. I'm talking newspapers, radios, televisions—the whole nine yards. We need this vampire to sweat."
Kaito stood straight and firm—and yet for all his bravado and confidence, he couldn't stop the giddy excitement that was swelling in his stomach. Every new bounty made him feel this way. Unfortunately, he was so blinded by his adrenaline that he failed to notice the bored, checked-out expressions on the clients' faces. "Yeah! If we do this right, the vampire will overhear and hightail it back here so they can find out for themselves how Shuichi has returned."
Kokichi jumped back in. "And once they're back, it'll be a cakewalk to drive a stake through their cold, dead heart."
They'd done most of the prep work already: Kaito had drafted news stories to leak to media outlets, and Kokichi had devised several traps. Between the hidden nets and Agent Garlic (a concoction of Kaito's own creation), they had this in the bag.
The two of them had been colluding with each other since the beginning of the year, when they realized it was more productive to join forces than to compete against each other on the vampire-hunting vigilante market. They'd completed several missions together and killed dozens of vampires between them, and yet, tonight would be a first for them. Their current clients were the Saiharas, a rich couple whose only son went missing on Halloween.
But before Kokichi could give the gory details of the traps, Mr. Saiharas held up a hand. "I'm afraid none of this will be necessary."
Kokichi tilted his head curiously. "Hm? And why might that be?"
"Because we're canceling the assignment," Mrs. Saihara said. "We're no longer in need of your services."
The excitement dropped out of Kaito's stomach. "Wait, what? But just think of your son! Shuichi could be being subjected to unimaginable torture right now! Or—or if he's dead, wouldn't you want the closure?"
"Or revenge?" Kokichi supplied.
Mr. and Mrs. Saihara exchanged a look, like they were silently deciding how much information they should disclose to them.
Mr. Saihara hesitated. "We have reason to believe… that Shuichi is alive and well. And because of that, we no longer need to track down his attacker."
"But the enemy's still at large!" Kaito had been at this for over a year now, and very rarely did he leave a mission without vanquishing his foes. To give up right now, before the battle even began, was unthinkable to him.
"And they're no longer our concern." Mrs. Saihara waved away his protest. "Thank you for your time."
The ride back to the motel was silent. Kaito stewed in wounded heroism; Shuichi Saihara's abduction had been preceded by a string of disappearances and a murder. It had all the markings of a vampire attack. murder.
"What a waste of time," Kokichi grumbled.
"I can't believe they don't care about getting justice!" Kaito griped.
"I didn't even get to shoot the harpoon gun!"
"That's what you care about?" Kaito balked. "The damn harpoon gun?"
Kokichi stared back at him blankly. "What else am I supposed to care about?"
"The victims of the vampire attack!"
It was fortunate for Kokichi that Kaito pulled into the motel parking lot at that very moment. It saved him from answering, and whatever smart-ass comment he would fire back with would have undoubtedly compounded the tension between them.
Kaito killed the engine. Kokichi was the first to hop out the van and walk inside.
They'd only been at their motel room for three days and it already felt like a second home. Both of their beds were cluttered with clothes and weapons. Dozens of newspaper clippings were piled on the desk, most of them taken from Shuichi's bedroom. They'd been pretty useful for piecing together the mystery of this quiet town.
The silence followed them inside. Kokichi headed for his suitcase and began packing his things.
Kaito, however, had a different idea; he opened his laptop to the document he'd been editing before they left for the Saiharas' house. Lost Teenager Returns Home. He re-read it, checking for any writing flaws that needed to be corrected. The local media outlets would be suspicious if they received a story riddled with errors.
For a few minutes, the two of them lost themselves in their parallel worlds—Kokichi packing and Kaito planning—and then, at the same time, they realized what the other was doing. Kokichi snapped up, and Kaito twisted in his chair.
"Kokichi, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Kokichi punctuated his sentence with the shut his suitcase. "I can't believe you're still fiddling with that stupid piece of junk instead of doing the same."
"My computer isn't junk. And we still have business here," Kaito insisted, and he knew an argument was coming because Kokichi's gaze narrowed. "I'm carrying out our plan."
"What? Don't tell me you're seriously that stupid. You heard the Saiharas. They're not paying us. We're fired. That means it's time to get back on the road and find someone else who can use our services."
"Or, it means we can help this town."
Kaito stood up. Kokichi shifted his stance. They were like wild animals, ready to fight.
"Shuichi is still MIA," Kaito continued. "We have the skills and tools we need to bust the perpetrators!"
For Kaito, vampire hunting was a moral crusade. Creatures of the night were killing humans, draining their blood and leaving their mangled bodies as calling cards. He believed in the goodness of humanity and would do whatever he could to protect it, paid or unpaid.
Kokichi pressed his lips into a thin line. "You can kill all the vampires you want somewhere else, once we find a new job that actually pays money."
"And let this one get away? To probably kidnap and kill again?! I don't want that on my conscience, Kokichi."
"I don't care about your stupid conscience." Kokichi folded his arms as if to say, So, there.
"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before you partnered up with me!"
"Maybe I should have!"
This wasn't the first time they'd fought, of course. They'd bickered constantly when they were mere rivals, and they'd bickered even after they'd started working together. But this argument—it wasn't a disagreement over which weapon to use, which tree to use as a stakeout post, which microwavable meal to buy at the grocery store—this one was a matter of principles.
"Listen, Kaito, we're not staying here."
"We've gotta stay here," Kaito insisted.
They had one van between them, anyway. Kokichi seemed to realize this, too.
"Pay me to stay, then." Kokichi sat down and crossed his legs on the bed, staring at Kaito expectantly, like he was a royal entertaining a peasant's request.
Kaito didn't respond immediately; he braced himself against the desk and weighed his options. He could, in fact, just give him the money. But they were in this game together and Kaito hoped, deep down, that their relationship had become more than just transactional.
He'd been wondering that for a while now, actually. Were they just business partners? Or—between missions, microwave meals, and impromptu road trips—had they become friends somewhere along the way?
"Kokichi," Kaito started, "if you won't stay for the victims, at least stay for me. I believe in this!"
"Fine, Mister Savior Complex! We'll do this job!" Kokichi flopped down on the bed completely, groaning. "But you owe me breakfast tomorrow."
"Deal!" The battle won, Kaito settled at his laptop. With his back to Kokichi, he allowed a grin to break across his face.
But, of course, Kokichi couldn't help but get the last word in. "Buuuut, you're going about this all wrong."
"Huh?"
Kokichi abandoned his bed and joined Kaito at the desk, smiling smugly. "Why follow through with the original plan when we should be adapting to the new information?"
"We have new information?"
"Duh. Read between the lines. Someone contacted the Saiharas and told them that Shuichi was alive. If we can find a physical note or recorded phone call…"
"We can track the sender to its source!" Kaito realized.
They both grinned. Their eyes, glimmering with excitement, said what words couldn't:
I'm glad you're sticking around for this, man.
Yeah, well, what can I say? I love the thrill of the chase. Besides, you'd be lost without me.
We make a good team.
Yeah, we do.