So you know those jerks who like, get busy with stupid stuff and then like put a ton of stuff on the backburner? Guess who turned into that jerk? Well it's all good now! That's the good news. The I guess maybe neutral news was that I looked back on my old series, realized I'd started it when I was around sixteen years old, and that I was now close to thirty. I was actually pretty close to the age of the characters I was writing about, so I'd probably have a different outlook now. So I decided on a reboot for the Lupin IV cast. You know, I might return to the original someday, but I just feel like it's been a while that I'd need time to at this point.

I hope you guys, people reading for the first time, and maybe some of my older readers, both enjoy this. It's a lot of fun coming back to these characters with a much different outlook and with a little bit more experience under my belt. I hope you guys have fun! Feedback is always appreciated!

Anyway, in honor of the new Lupin III series, here's a new Lupin IV series.


Naples, Italy

"So she's still in there?"

"So far, so good," said the other guard.

"Anyone check her for weapons yet?!" asked the first guard, barely masking his excitement.

"Yeah. You'd never guess where she managed to hide a machine gun," the first snorted before glancing in through the barred window. The tiny woman with the short black hair and large chest looked up from her nails to him, waving briefly before returning to examine her manicure.

"Say! One of you wouldn't happen to have a file, would you?" she asked, trying to rise from her seat but being suddenly reminded of her restraints as she found herself pulled back down by the chain around her waist.

"Nice try, Lupin," the guard laughed. "Hey, ain't you supposed to be a guy?"

"I thought about asking you the same thing, but as you pointed out already, I'm a lady," she replied with a wink.

The one guard growled as his partner burst out in laughter, and delivered a punch to the man's stomach, "Well, lady or not, working solo ain't gonna work for you here."

"And who says I work alone, boys?" she asked with a grin.


Boston, Massachusetts

"Jamison, Mark… Jansing, Julia…" the dean read off the names from the list, and one near-graduate in particular shifted in her seat, looking out at the crowd. Looking over her shoulder she saw them both. They stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the uptight Harvard parents, between her father in his worn-out gray suit and her mother in her thick makeup and "busy" jewelry.

Ryo felt a wave of panic wash over her as she felt her cell phone vibrate. She tried to convince herself not to look at it.

After the third round of vibrations she sighed, shut her eyes tightly, and dared herself to force her eyes open read the messages.

"Really? That's your code word?" her shoulders fell as she read the message, a lone word repeated over and over in numerous texts. She looked up in her stands again to her parents and bit her lower lip, and slowly raised her phone. Her father was shaking his head "no" slightly, while her mother opted for more broad "NOOO" gestures with her hands.

"Jigen, Ryoko," Ryo hopped up from the sound of her name and rushed down the aisle and across the stage.

She grabbed onto the diploma just as quickly as she climbed up the stairs, and instead of shaking hands with the president, she found herself handing him her graduation robes, revealing her white capri pants and orange shirt underneath.

"Sorry, I have to run. My boss needs me," she explained as she fluffed out her wavy hair that had been flattened by the ridiculous-looking hat before placing it on top of the president's own had. She could see her mother and father in the stands; Jigen was rubbing his forehead while her mother had resigned to covering her face with her hands.

Ryo ran out from the hall as fast as her sandals would let her, and out to the parking lot. Amongst the numerous high-end imports there stood her baby—A lovely red Alfa Romeo that she'd restored not too long ago.

She kicked off her sandals, tossed them in the back seat, and peeled away for her next destination.


Kyoto, Japan

"Thank you for calling Ishikawa technical, Heiji speaking. How may I be of service?" a pudgy young Japanese man sat cross-legged in front of three laptops on the floor of a bedroom cluttered with technology as he spoke into his headset, and he listened intently to the panicked voice on the other end of the line, "Have you tried plugging in the printer? Yup… Yup that should do it. Happy to help! Have a good rest of your day!"

He removed his headset and stretched, "Another day, another idiot who should be pounding rocks together instead of working in an office…"

"Heiji! Heiji!" the pounding on the other side of the door made him sigh, and Heiji rose from his spot, and he slowly slide the screen to reveal two small children, both of whom gripped onto the same phone as they held it out in front of him. "Phone call!"

"What? On this thing?" Heiji greeted the device with a raised eyebrow and wretched it from the grip of the two, and gingerly held it up to his ear. After a moment of listening, his expression changed to one of dull surprise. "That's the code word she used…? Have either of you two seen Dori?"

"She's with Papa!" shouted one.

"Follow us!" another called out, rushing down the long wooden hall of the traditional-style home.

"…Great…" he tossed aside the cordless phone and followed the two out to the middle courtyard of the house.

Odori Ishikawa, all 4"10 of her, was standing silently in the middle of a circle of bamboo reeds, her sword drawn. She steadied her breathing, and checked the direction of the wind. A single breeze blew a leaf in front of her, and she opened one eye upon feeling its presence.

With a single yell, and two swipes, there were two flashes, followed by the sheathing of her sword. Slowly, all the pieces of bamboo started to slide, and she was left in a circle of cut bamboo.

"So cool!" gasped one young girl from her spot on the porch in the courtyard, and a few more children started clapping and cheering for her. From the center of it, Odori looked up and saw from his spot Goemon Ishikawa give what she could have sworn was his version of a smile.

"…I just want to know how she got in the center of that thing. Did she climb, or was there a ladder?" Heiji said from behind his father, breaking the steady cheering for his sister. She jumped over what was left of the bamboo and landed in front of their father, breaking her stance to adjust the long ponytail of hair that fell down below her waist. Somehow in the mix it had come loose, and she tended to adjusting it while waiting to hear Goemon's verdict.

"You're getting better," Goemon replied with a small nod, and Odori stopped herself from smiling to nod sternly in return.

"Hey, Dori? We got the code word," Heiji waved over to his sister, and she narrowed her eyes.

"What's she gotten herself into now?"

"I don't even know anymore. Just get packed."

"You're off again?" Goemon turned around to Heiji, and he held up his hands and sighed.

"I guess so. Here I was thinking we didn't need to be after Ari…" Heiji trailed off and shook his head. "I'm going to get my stuff together."

"The rest of you go to your mother," Goemon said to the children surrounding him, and with moans they all stood up from their stops and headed toward the dining room. "And no snacking before lunch! Odori… I want to see you a moment alone."

Odori nodded again wordlessly, watching as her father slowly stood from his stop. As she spied the scar on his chest, she tried not to react to it, but found herself looking away.

She followed Goemon down another long hall in the sprawling home, stopping at the foot of what was considered his private training area.

"It's all right," he reassured her, turning back to her. With a nod she walked in, looking about at the artwork on the walls. She wasn't sure what was family heirloom or conquest from a heist over the years.

In in the center of the room, lit by two candles and perched on a stand, was a simple-looking sword in a wooden sheath. She knew better than to think it was just a regular sword, though. So her breath halted when Goemon lifted it up off of the stand and held it out.

"I have the feeling that this will not be the last call your get. I have been thinking a long time about this… And I want you to be the one to wield Zantetsuken."

"Me…? But I'm nowhere near ready!"

"You're going against my judgment?"

"N-No. Not at all," she realized she was standing, and immediately knelt down in front of him. "I just always assumed it would go to… Well… One of your blood children…"

"Toshiro has no interest… He has developed his own sword fighting style… And Heiji…" Goemon cringed as he heard a crash, signifying his son was nearby. "…Heiji is more like his mother, and fights with the use of technology."

"Anyone seen a cell phone jammer?!" he shouted through the hall, and Goemon and Odori both shared sighs. "A cell phone jammer! I need it!"

"I would be honored to wield it…" she gently took it from his hands and stared at it as she examined it, opening it slightly. "It's much lighter than I thought it would be…"

She slipped it in the sash around her green hakama, and rose from her spot where she had been kneeling, instead giving a deep bow to her father.

"I won't disappoint you."

"I know. Now go help your brother find his jam or whatever he's shouting about."

Odori waited until she was out in the hallway and had slid the door behind her to allow herself a small squeal of excitement.

"I heard that!" Heiji called, sticking his head out the opened door of one of the storage rooms.

"I will END you!" she snarled, and Goemon gave another sigh from his side of the shoji good as he heard two sounds of footsteps running down the hall, one after the other.


Chicago, Illinois

Ally had lost one of his crowns out on the ice. He didn't let this bother him, however. He spat it out on the ground while in the penalty box and wiped the blood from his nose. He'd gotten his father's larger nose, meaning that it would be a while before that stopped.

He looked up from a head of shaggy hair at the score on the board of the hockey arena.

"We're losing our asses to a team from Florida. Un-friggin'-believable. They don't even HAVE ice!" he grumbled with disdain, sniffing up more blood to prevent it from trialing down onto his shirt. How he hated the familiar smell of copper. He squinted as the JumboTron suddenly changed from the thousandth stupid video of a couple kissing to instead a picture of a familiar face in a short black jacket and short red dress blowing a kiss and a word written underneath her. "….So that's what you choose as a code word? Well, she ain't Ari… That's for sure…"

The rest of Ally's team watched as he exited the penalty box, started skating towards them, skated past them, and rushed off of the ice. The announcer seemed befuddled as to what was happening. Ally's coach was screaming. At his own home, Jigen watched silently in disdain as yet another child ran away from what should have been a shining moment. Jigen leaned back in his recliner, placed his fedora over his eyes, and called it a day.

Ally tried his best not to get blood on the flat black shoes, black pants, and black and gray gong fu-style jacket, which he only buttoned up halfway before he rushed out with his duffle bag to escape the wrath of his coach, who he could hear screaming in the halls.

"I'm so getting traded for this…" he said to himself as he rushed out through one of the back entrances of the arena.


New York, New York

"And here's our costume department!" called out the tour guide to the group of children as they shuffled along the back of the stage, gazing upon the rows and rows of costumes. One in particular stood out to a small boy. It was a devilish bronze mask with horns, attached to a long, shaggy red wig. The towering mannequin held out a fan, was dressed in a gold and black kabuki costume. As the boy went to grab the fan, he let out a shriek, as did most of his classmates, as the mannequin suddenly moved, flipping over the fan and walking towards them.

"Don't worry, don't worry!" came a thick Brooklyn accent from underneath the mask. He pulled it away, revealing a tall, slender Japanese man with a much smaller and shorter head of red hair. "It's just a costume! I swear!"

"That's Mr. Ishikawa, children…" the guide barely hid her contempt as she glared at Toshiro, and he gave a nervous smile as he started to unfasten the kabuki outfit, revealing a plain black T-shirt and jeans beneath.

"Any of you kids interested in workin' in the theater?"

There were a few shaky hand raises amongst the still-spooked children, and Toshiro perked up.

"That's great! Not for nothin', but I've been workin' here since I was your guys' age!"

"Why's your hair red, mister?" finally asked one boy.

"I went gray early from stress!" Toshiro explained, kneeling down in front of the child and letting his hair out of its ponytail, allowing it to fall to his shoulders. "Plus the good guys in kabuki always wore red, so I just color it that now!"

"So you're a good guy?"

"I like to think so… Oh? Eh, gotta take this. Sorry!" he rose as he felt his cell phone vibrate, and his smile fell as he read the single line of text. "…Great. Hey, Sheila? Tell the boss I'm not gonna be able to teach that opera class later today, okay? Somethin' came up from my other job…"


Barcelona, Spain

Just breathe. She rested her cigarette on the ledge of the building, and she noted the trail the smoke traveled in. As the winds died down, she scooted closer on her stomach and pulled up her white fedora with the black band around it. Form the scope of her sniper rifle she could see him, another overweight politician all-too-happily taking a bribe and exchanging it with a handshake.

"Sorry. Not gonna get to enjoy that big ole' jet and that model with the big new boobs…" she said to herself in a chuckle as she locked onto her target.

The sudden noise from her phone surprised her so that her finger slipped on the trigger, and with a yelp the bullet, meant for the politician's head, instead chipped an edge of the building. She'd been spotted. She could see, even from the great distance, that he was pointing at her and shouting.

She rolled over onto her back, not minding she was dirtying up her mainly white suit, and opened up the flip phone. "I had this on silent, so how—Damn it…"

All the message said was "QUACK". But it was enough to let her know who it was from.

"…Idiot…" she muttered, shutting her phone.

She sat up and quickly disassembled her gun, still tucking it into its case as she heard footsteps running up to meet her on the landing.

A door burst open just as she stood on the edge of the building, and she glanced over the side. Inhaling deeply, and hoping the jump to the nearest rooftop wasn't as far down as she knew it was, Yukiko Jigen allowed herself to step off the side of the building, sniper gun carrying case under one of her arms.


"Zenigata?" the receptionist repeated, looking down at the identification and back up to the man in front of him, and then over the man's shoulder to the familiar picture hanging up of the retired Inspector Zenigata. The man in the photo was clearly Japanese, with a square jaw and thick eyebrows. The man in front of him was at least part Asian, but sported a round face, pale complexion, and head of shaggy blond hair.

"Yes," repeated the man yet again, now through his teeth.

"Like… Inspector Zenigata…."

"Is that a common name here? Is that the name of the person who delivers the coffee?"

"It's just that. Well…."

"I'm his son. His genes and my mom's had a brawl in the womb. She won," he said plainly, adjusting the green tie of his brown suit and darting his eyes around the busy office.

"O-Oh, okay! Well, welcome Inspector Zenigata."

The blonde Zenigata bristled at this, quickly snatching his badge and hurrying over to find his name on a desk. What he didn't expect was the desk in front of him that faced him to be piled high with stacks of paperwork and books.

"Hello?" he leaned over the stack as he heard a slight snoring, and jumped back as the snoring came to a halt and a lanky man rose up from his spot in the middle of the chaos.

He was tall, with longer brown hair that partially fell over his brown eyes and wire glasses. He wore a mainly black ensemble, excluding an orange tie and purple jacket.

"S-Sorry… Oh my God. It's tomorrow!" the man gasped as he looked to the large windows, and Inspector Zenigata's brow furrowed. "I can't believe I did that again!"

"Some of your stuff's on my…"

"O-Oh! Right! Sorry, it just… Has a mind of its own! I'm Leo LeBlanc, linguistics. You're…?"

"Maxwell Zenigata."

"Zenigata! I-I know that name!"

"You're not the first today," Max grumbled, taking a seat at his otherwise empty desk.

"I-I didn't even know he had a son, truth be told!" Leo exclaimed as he hurried over and began to shove the paperwork back onto his own spot. "I always thought he just had the one daughter!"

"He probably did that on purpose," Max answered as he absentmindedly searched through the desk drawers. "Who left condiments in here…?"

"I think that'd be Clark, the last guy who sat there. Oh… Um… You guys don't really see eye-to-eye?"

"Do you know where I can pick up my report, LeBlanc?"

"Yeah! Should be during the meeting!" Leo adjusted his orange tie and suit jacket as he stood in front of his mass of papers. "That should be… What time is it?"

"Nine… Twenty?"

"We're late!" Leo gasped. "C-Come on, right this way!"

He could move fast for someone who was a bookworm, Max would give him that. Zenigata was unprepared for how quickly the tall man hurried him into the office in the back of the room, and struggled to catch up while not falling on his face.

The room full of officers was already full when Leo and Max slipped in, and the two found spots to stand in the back near the bulletin board as the meeting continued.

"Ah! There he is! We have a transfer from San Francisco! Everyone, this is Inspector Zenigata!" Max jolted as all the faces in the room turned around to him, and he focused on one of the side walls to prevent making eye contact with any of the curious people who he knew were staring at him and all thinking the same thing.

"Inspector, why don't you join us up here?" said the head inspector, who waved Max up. After a moment's hesitation Max waded through the crowded room of people, skulking like a caged lion at the applause he received. "Inspector Zenigata will be joining us here at Interpol's Paris offices! On top of this, we have received new word that Lupin the Fourth is back in action. Inspector Zenigata will be heading up the investigation into this, given that he would know the most about the case."

Max's smile was nervous. As Leo looked down at the inspector's hands, he could see his fists were clenched, and his knuckles were white.

"…Poor Zenigata…" Leo murmured to himself through the applause this received. "Wait a second… Lupin the… Fourth?"


"Lunch?" Max looked up from the folder of paperwork in front of him to Leo, who held up a paper bag in hand. "I figured you didn't know many of the places around here… It's from a great bakery I found nearby. I just moved here a few months ago, so I figured I'd give the newest new guy a break."

"A few months and you already have all of that crap piled up around you?"

Leo narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, "You grew up speaking Hebrew in your house? And Japanese."

"Eh?"

"Well, your "you" was a little long, and the "r" in your "crap" fell somewhere in between an "l" and an "r". You definitely try to hide it with a general American accent though, which is probably what you speak the most? Coupled with French from earlier when you were introducing yourself, I haven't heard anything quite like you before!"

"Glad to be so interesting," Max snapped.

"Sorry, I just really like that stuff, and it's not so easy to shut off!" he admitted with a giggle. "Four languages, that's impressive!"

"Eh, not to you. You probably speak what, six, seven?"

"…Twenty-six…" Leo admitted with a clearing of the throat, and Max slowly looked up from his paperwork. "B-But like four of those I'm shaky in!"

"Four…" Max repeated quietly to himself, shaking his head.

"W-Well, this is great! I've been meaning to make a friend I could speak Hebrew with! Or Japanese! I'm Japanese myself! Well, about three-quarters. My dad was part French, so that's how I ended up here. But I grew up speaking mainly Japanese and French. I—"

"Listen. I get that you like talking. If it's one thing I get it's that you like talking. But I'm here to work."

"Oh… S-Sorry. I guess I just get ahead of myself…"

"Thanks for the croissants…"

Leo slunk down, vanishing under his stack of paperwork, and Max heard from behind the fortress moments later, "…So, do you speak any Yiddish?"

"Farmach dos moyl," Max snapped in return. "Shut your mouth". Leo shuddered and slumped down in his seat.

It was a few moments later that Leo heard a clearing of a throat and found Max standing over him, file in hand.

"…I, um… Don't know what this means…"

"Oh! It looks like they wrote it out this part of the report in Italian…" Leo realized as he adjusted his glasses. "A woman claiming to be Lupin the Fourth was captured in Naples, Italy two days ago. It's unknown if she's actually the sister of Lupin the Fourth, who suddenly vanished after a bank heist earlier last year… It is unknown if she is working with members of the Ishikawa and Jigen families. It was thought that Lupin the Third and his associates had turned to mainly living quieter lives, after switching to help out organizations with their years of expertise, but it now seems that the next generation has reverted back to a life of crime."

"Helping out organizations. Right…"

"What? You don't believe that?"

"Not a damned minute," replied Max. "Thief's a thief no matter what color jacket they put on."

"Kinda a cynical outlook…" and Leo was startled by the glare he received.

"If you had to deal with what I'm dealing with you'd be the same way."

"LeBlanc!" came a bark from the office, and Max found himself quietly grateful as Leo, wide-eyed, wandered into towards the office. "You too, Zenigata!"

"What? Me?" Max muttered, and followed in after Leo. The silence had been good while it lasted—All thirty seconds of it.

The chief tossed down a photograph on his desk and leaned back in his seat. "What do you make of this?"

"Gibberish," said Max plainly.

"It's a code," Leo skimmed over the picture of the handwritten note. "Woman's handwriting, too."

"You're a handwriting expert, too?" Max asked, feeling more exhausted than before.

"There's lipstick at the bottom of the letter."

"Trust me when I can say that that can still be a guy…"

"It's from Lupin… If you're right, LeBlanc, then it's a definite that his sister's taken over for him since he's vanished. We don't know as much about Fuji Lupin, unfortunately. Only that she seemed to serve as his right hand while he was still in charge. Also that every letter she's been leaving us has been in this code. LeBlanc, do you think you could break it?"

"I did you one better. I've got it cracked," Leo handed the photo back to the chief, and both the chief and Max stared at the lanky man, speechless. Leo felt himself grow nervous as the attention and scratched the back of his head. "I used to make stuff like this for fun. It's about her next heist. It's supposed to be in Naples."

The chief leaned forward in his seat, "She's in jail there. We're having her transferred."

"She doesn't intend to stay there long, I'll tell you that right now…"

"LeBLanc, you and Zenigata go together."

"What?!" both men yelped in unison.

"I did NOT agree to a partner when I agreed to a transfer!" Max snarled, leaning forward on the chief's desk. After a moment of being stared down by the old man in front of him, Max righted his posture and adjusted his suit jacket.

"You don't have to. I made the decision for you."

Leo began to sputter, "With all due respect… I didn't sign up for field service, sir. I'm quite happy with a desk job!"

"You're a waste behind all of those books right now, LeBlanc. We've had people trying to figure that code out for days, and you did if before my secretary got back with lunch. You'd be an incredibly valuable asset to Zenigata… Whether he wants to believe so or not. You leave as soon as possible. And LeBlanc?"

"Yes, sir?"

"For God's sakes do something with your hair already."

"Y-Yes, sir…"