You never know how little you've improved until you try to rewrite a story from a year ago. This story was written on the 13th of last year, actually, but close enough. I remembered having some errors I never corrected and figured I'd just rewrite it since I was half asleep when I wrote it. Then I realized that my style had not changed at all and gave up. Whoops.
I have no idea why I never posted this in the first place. Does this happen with all my Zengiata stories? Then again, I think I've only written two. Nevermind. Enjoy or something.

It was a very special day for the ever persistent inspector, Kouichi Zenigata. It was the anniversary of his birth. Not only that, but it was also the anniversary of the day that had started a series of nightmarish events that would haunt him for the rest of his years. It all started when the then 8 year-old Kouichi was looking for his father, Inspector Youichi Zenigata.

"Father?" he called out, his young voice wavering in fear. But he wouldn't let it get to him. He had to be strong. He was the son of the star inspector! "Father, where are you?"
The boy had gotten himself lost while wandering around. His father had said he wouldn't be far, but now young Kouichi just didn't know. He spotted a door ahead of him, that being the only thing he could see anywhere around him. Seeing it as the only option, he turned the handle, trying to ignore the way the dust that had gotten on his hands unnerved him just slightly. If this place wasn't used often, where was he? Against his better judgment, he went inside. The door shut behind him before he knew what was happening. With a gasp, he reached for the doorknob, but it would not turn again.

Taking a deep breath, Kouichi ventured deeper inside. Didn't get very far before he bumped into something. It wasn't a hindrance, but an annoyance. It was awfully hard to see in such a dark room, so he turned to his right and tried again, once more being blocked. Boy Kouichi willed himself to stay calm. He recalled having a flashlight keychain in his pocket and took it out carefully, so as not to allow his clumsy hands to drop it, and flipped on the switch. It was then that he saw them. There were hundreds upon hundreds--maybe even more--stacked up piles of cardboard boxes. Nobody could hear his scream.

Hours had passed before he'd woken up. He had managed to get himself shelter, a cardboard box, before passing out. Kouichi reached for his flashlight and looked at his watch, taking note that it had been six hours since his arrival. Bracing himself, he slowly unfolded his pointer finger and dug the nail into the cardboard box to make a mark. This proved to be difficult with only his dull nail. He drew it across over and over again, a sickening squeak reaching his ears. Kouichi slapped his free hand over his mouth, unable to stop himself from gagging. The mark was made adequately enough and he finally couldn't take any more. He could only run a few feet before he fell into a kneel, gripping his knees as he painfully retched what little he'd eaten the day before. Even after that, he continued to heave, only stopping once he was he by a harsh wave of dizziness and was sure he couldn't bear another surge. He only almost made it back to his shelter when he lost consciousness again.

It went on in that manner for a few days. After three, he'd given up all hope and didn't bother of keeping track of time from then on. He would curl up into a ball, shaking a crying out for his father until he got tired enough to fall asleep. It was so lonely in the darkness of the cardboard boxes. He was in an unending nightmare, being swallowed up by the shadow monsters he couldn't see without his flashlight which had long since run out of power. He was hiding in a pit of his own despair, despair much too deep. He could feel the burning anguish devouring his soul. "Father," he whispered brokenly, heavy eyes dropping to a close.

When Kouichi awoke the next morning, he felt a stinging he hadn't felt in so long, he hadn't remember what it was like. It was the pain of sunshine flooding into his unprepared eyes. It wasn't cold and dusty, but rather warm and pleasant. There was a soft voice from nearby. "Kouichi?" Someone brushed their hand against his and adjusted the blankets. "Are you awake, kid?"
Kouichi forced his eyes open, a weary groan accompanying them. He strained to see his savior, the one he'd forever be indebted to. It was an adult male, one with black hair and a mustache. Kouichi's eyes widened in recognition. It was the thief his father chased.
"Thank goodness," Lupin II signed with relief. "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner. You see, I own that warehouse, but I only go there once a week. I have no idea how you got yourself locked in there, but you're okay now."
Kouichi could only gape at Lupin as he quickly became red in the face. He had never wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. It was something he had no interest in. But now, now he would have to, to get revenge for all who had fallen to the mercy of the cardboard boxes.

Unfortunately, that was nowhere near the end of the matter.

Kouichi grit his teeth as another blow came at his stomach, tears in his eyes. "Chew, boy!" His father picked him up by the hair, shoving him against the wall. Kouchi reluctantly let his jaw work, cringing at the way it separated in his teeth. His father's eyes gleamed at him sadistically with a satisfied smirk. "Now, swallow."
The moment the pieces of cardboard reached his throat, they refused to go down. "How dare you choke," Youichi growled, grabbing the boy by his throat. Kouichi wailed loudly, the damp cardboard falling out of his mouth. He continued to gag on the taste it left. He was promptly dropped and a hand whacked his cheek, leaving it red. "What a pathetic boy, afraid of a little cardboard."
Kouichi stood up shakily, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. He stepped closer to his father, who was already on the defense, and hugged him as tightly as his strength would allow. "I love you, father," he said weakly. In that small moment, he was allowed to sob into his father's shirt, the one with the silver cuff-links that he'd always admired. 'Don't worry, Father. I know. I know you're afraid too.'
"What are you talking about? Pitiful boy," he scoffed, slapping Kouchi onto the ground. "Let me correct that. You don't deserve pity."
Despite himself, Kouchi smiled at the figure of his father's disappearing back.

It had been going on a few years, almost right after the incident when he was only 8. He was now 11, but he wasn't like most boys his age. He wasn't energetic, he never had fun. But the one thing he kept was his cheery personality. Because if his family couldn't be cheery, he'd have to. That was the way he saw it, until a few days later.

Kouchi found himself on the ground after tripping, struggling to keep up with his father. Youichi had told the boy to stay behind, but there was one thing Kouchi couldn't stand even since he was 8 years old, being alone. And since they were out together when the chase started, there was no choice but to follow. Luckily for him, as he opened his eyes, he saw the inspector's shoes. They had apparently reached their location. Without any help, he pushed himself up. He noticed the contemplative sparkle in his father's eyes, the kind that was both exciting and frightening. In the dark night with only the very vague light of the stars, it was more frightening than anything.
"Father, is there something wrong?" he asked, the apprehension clear in his voice. Something about Youichi's attitude was very off.
"We're here," Youichi muttered to himself, Kouchi not quite catching it. Youichi himself had a sudden feeling rush through him, one that riled his nerves and made it difficult to swallow. He bent down in front of his son, catching him in an embrace.
Kouichi froze in surprise, the sudden change in behavior doing nothing to settle his worries. He asked again, in a panicked voice, "Father? What is it?"
His father pulled away, eyes glittering with unfamiliar emotion. He kissed Kouchi's forehead gently. "It'll be alright, son." But who was he trying to assure? "Just wait for me, alright? Hide behind the dumpster until I come back."
Kouichi nodded numbly, unsure of what else to do. As he watched his father leave, unbidden tears rose to the surface. "Father..."

That was the last time Youichi was seen.

It was also just the beginning.

Zenigata's knees shook, fingers tightly grasping his handcuffs for security. "I-I'll get you, Lupin..." He didn't sound half as confident as he normally did, he knew. What was Lupin doing, of all places, in a warehouse? It had to be to mess with him. That was why he couldn't let himself be afraid. He couldn't control it as well as he would have liked, however.
He heard a clanking from the next room. The situation was terribly familiar. There was an old door in front of him, but he couldn't see any direction turning around. Naturally, he would have to use the door. He opened it quickly, rubbing the dust off on his jacket. So far, so good. He took the hankerchief from his pocket, wedging it so the door couldn't close. It was completely dark inside.
He gulped, reaching for his flashlight. It was mostly bare, a few things here and there. Storage. He went in farther, feeling lost, though he knew if he just went back, the door would be there. He heard the sound again, coming from just behind him. He grabbed his gun, turning around and snarling, "Lupin."

It wasn't.

Fingers desperately, yet pointlessly, grabbed at the concrete floor, even just the skin on the hands looking beat up. There was only have a shirt, the rest having been ripped off in some sort of struggle. Messy black hair was drenched in sweat. And that was all he saw, for the rest wasn't visible, concealed within a cardboard box. "Help... me," the man gasped.

Zenigata couldn't control his movements, not even registering the hand covering his mouth in utter horror. He took only shallow breaths. "Father." The world came back to him, just at the last moment, allowing him to scream. "Father!"

"Zenigata-san!"
Fearful eyes darted around for the source of the shout, one which he was fairly sure wasn't his own.
"M-Monica?"
His assisant, Monica, was an energetic 22-year old blonde girl. Her personality was one was extreme kindness, her sweet side perfectly balancing out his salty. She held his gaze, her sky blues' intensity matching his own. "Zeni...gata-san..."
"Monica," he whispered, back into reality. "Monica!" Her name came out in a strained sob.
Her slender arms wrapped around the detective's shuddering shoulders with unexpected strength, pushing his head into the crook of her neck. "Zenigata-san," she mumbled lowly, placing a small kiss his on temple. "It's alright now. Everything is alright. I'll protect you from them, Zenigata-san."
"Monica." He didn't move his arms, for once letting her just hold him. He cried just a little harder. "Thank you, Monica."
Though inwardly he knew, they would never leave him alone.