DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters I used in this story. They're owned by Namco Bandai and Klonoa Works.

This was an idea I had before I made my other Janga story. It was going to be the basis of a longer story but I didn't think I could make it very believable. I don't think anyone would want me to elaborate on this semi-impossibility, anyway. Then it was going to be part of " Here Kitty Kitty ", but since this angle would've overshadowed the rest of the story I made it a one shot.

Moving along ...

Glass shattered for the fourth time in the laboratory the two minions were using that night. Joka, who was sitting on a counter opposite of where his partner was fumbling, just sighed before clapping his hands together. He used just enough of his power to manipulate a small broom and dustpan to clean the mess before the acidic compounds had a chance to burn into the floor.

A snap brought the pan and broom into a bin off to the side. " Janga-chan … " Joka sighed as the taller 'animal' began to do the same thing he did the last four times. " Are you sure you do not need my assistance? I can be helpful. I have opposable thumbs, and the such – "

Janga threw a syringe and vial at the balloon shaped clown before he could finish his statement. Joka caught the former of the two, and the vial landed harmlessly on his lap. " Put 40cc of that stuff in an' put it over there. " He gestured over to a rack off to the side on his counter.

" Just what is this stuff? " Joka asked as he tested the syringe. Red fluid dripped from the needle's tip down its side; a familiar smell and composition. " Is this blood? " For some reason blood made him so squeamish!

" You ask too many questions. " Janga was already busying himself with something else.

Joka seemed insistent on getting an answer. " This doesn't smell like your blood … "

" It's not. " The cat said abruptly before digging around in his coat. Moments later he flashed another syringe, this time without a needle, for Joka to see. " This is mine. "

The clown seemed perplexed. " Why do you carry around vials of blood? " He pondered. " Better yet, why do you carry around a vial of your own blood? "

" Never know when I'll get thirsty. Ki. "

" Be serious, Janga-chan. This is rather disturbing … "

This time Janga's voice picked up a little. " It's an old hunter's tradition. We carry around samples of our comrades' blood. It's a social thing, mostly, but there are some situations where having your partner's DNA might be useful. "

All the sudden Joka didn't want to hold that container he was holding. He held it away from him; needle tip down. " Such as … "
" Well … " The cat began. " If your partner gets mutilated on the job we can do a little testing to identify the body. Hunters can get really bitchy if they find out they buried the wrong guy in a million Dreamstone grave. "

" That doesn't explain what you're doing here. " Joka interrupted him. " None of our comrades died recently in such a gruesome way, I know, so what are you doing now? "

Janga hissed. " Well that's none of your damn business. "

The clown gave up on it this time. He crossed the room and placed the filled vial on the rack Janga indicated earlier, but stuck around instead of returning to his seat. This time the cat was more careful in getting the rest of the vials filled. Another one had a sample of blood that smelled familiar to Joka, followed by some chemicals of various colors.

If Janga's not going to tell him what he was doing then Joka would have to guess based on what he was witnessing. " It seems as though you're comparing your own DNA against another's. " Joka pondered aloud before snickering a little to himself. " If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doing a fraternity test – "

The balloon clown was interrupted when a heavy hand came down on top of his head, squishing him flat against the counter. " You're too damn persistent! " He growled.

Joka's body was rubbed against the counter painfully before Janga let up. His hands immediately went on top of his head as a defense. " I am sorry, Janga-chan. I cannot help but be curious since I've never seen you work in this way. Normally the work that you do is much more … violent. "

" Do you want me to be violent? " Janga snapped, glaring at him.

" Goodness no! " Joka whimpered.

Silence followed the smaller man's whimper. It wasn't an awkward one given the exchange they had earlier, but it wasn't anything warm and comforting about it either. Joka decided to make considerable distance between himself and Janga. There was a reasonable chance Janga wouldn't bother hitting him if he wasn't in arm's reach.

Minutes later Janga turned away from the rack. " Ten minutes. " He dug into his pockets and produced a bottle of liquor.

Joka frowned a little, but didn't bother to tell his partner about the risk of contamination. He probably didn't care being a walking dirty bomb and all. " Ten minutes … " He repeated, looking down at his hands idly. " So you are doing a fraternity test, Janga-chan? " Janga nodded without saying a word, possibly because he was busy taking a gulp from his bottle. " I didn't think you the type to take responsibility for anything, especially not this. "

That glare over the bottle would tell Joka otherwise. " I'm not. " He said simply, wiping the excess from his mouth with a sleeve. " Even if it were true it's too late to do nothin' about it. "

" It's never too late to formulate a relationship, Janga-chan. " Joka brought his feet together like a little child so he could swing them around to the edge of the counter. " How old would he be now? "

" What makes you think it's a boy? "

Joka pointed an accusing finger at him. " May the goddess help the child if they were female! " He wiggled his finger around. " Given your opinion on women, I wouldn't think you'd bother to do any of this if they were female. "

" You're goddamn right. " Janga gave Joka a toothy grin. " What the Hell I look like raising some little bitch? Making girl scout cookies and shit … "

" I like Samoas. "

" Ki … Thanks-A-Lot are better. "

" … Isn't that ironic? "

Janga caught himself, and soon Joka found an empty rack being thrown at his head. " You shut the Hell up! "

Joka caught the rack and placed it aside, laughing. " All right. I suppose we can acquire some cookies from a local troop in the Material World next time we go. " It'd be delightful to commit a crime for such a silly reason, for once. " You didn't answer my question. "

" He'll be 16 in December. " Great, now all Janga could think about was cookies! Vodka and cookies sounded good about now – damn it!

" And you just found out about it? " Joka was surprised. Lunatea wasn't the largest planet in the five universes. It'd be hard for such a thing to slip under the radar.

" I knew for 'bout ten years now, but there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. The kid ran off and I couldn't find him again 'till recently. " Janga shrugged a little. " I didn't remember right away. Guess I pushed all that shit to the back of my mind for a few years. It's not the type of thing you want to remember. "

Noticing the way Janga's voice dipped as he continued to speak Joka decided to change the course of their conversation. He only had outsider's knowledge of what happened to cause the Shinigami's house to fall all those years ago. The little shinigami was born around the time the outer members of their circle started to leave. Five years later the lady of the house, the little shinigami's mother, died during a solo mission in the Maze of Memories. The investigation and funeral that followed was suspiciously rushed, but no one thought to investigate it further.

A month later Janga inflicted a early draft of the sleeping illness on the younger shinigami to render him unconscious, then kidnapped him. The chase and fight that followed left the ruling shinigami dead, his son sick and orphaned, and the cat who caused it all branded a fugitive. No one on the outside knew what happened to cause Buntz's death, except Janga, but no one cared what he had to say. He was wrong, and a murderer, in their eyes.

Joka always pitied Janga a little for his crude behavior but now he had a new reason to feel that way. He wouldn't dare say a thing about it aloud in fear of being clawed into confetti. Nothing more would be say about the past. It was irrelevant. " ... So what are you going to do? " Joka looked up at him finally. " I mean, if it does turn out to be true. "

Janga shook his head. " I ani't gonna do nothing. "

The clown seemed confused. " Nothing? Then what's the point? "

" Knowing that I was right for what I did back there. " Janga glanced back at the rack. " I had to kill my best friend. " He continued quickly before Joka could ask the obvious question. " He came at me like he was gonna kill me; swinging his guns around like a maniac. I took the kid an' ran because I didn't want him brought into our shit. He backed me up in a corner, Joka, and he didn't want to hear what I had to say for myself. He just assumed I was guilty; that I was kind some of monster that took advantage of his wife. An' when he shot at me and just pierced the skin I didn't have much of a choice. It was either gonna be me, or him, and I wasn't about to die. "

Joka was able to make the connection himself. " This will give you some kind of peace of mind. " His partner nodded without saying a word. " I understand now, Janga-chan, but I do wish that you'd try to make peace with the younger shinigami. Since this incident has consumed his entire life it'd be best if he knew the whole truth. "

Janga turned to make a comment, but Joka was already out of the room and heading down the hallway. Fast little bastard. Nothing more could be said about it now, he figured, so he turned back to the rack to check on the process only to find it was done already. Their idle talk of things past made the time go by. Taking the center vial into his claws, he'd check the color against his knowledge on how this test worked.

The results made him grin. "... I'll be damned. "

While not really ' The End ', that's the end of this story.