Warnings: Character death? On the level of canon, of course.
Pairings: Sota/Nao.
Rating: PG? Violence, but not explicit or anything.
Notes: Did anyone else wonder how Sota and Nao died? Or about that detective running around looking for a trendy girl of about Nao's decription? (Not that there aren't plenty more girls like Nao, but. It's more fun this way, okay?) I have no idea who the thief is. Feel free to imagine a real professional jewel thief in his place.
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Nao looked around carefully, watching for the detective who had been after her all week. It wasn't like he could tell her from any other trendy-pretty girl with a tan and light hair, but she was wary nonetheless. Sota exited Tigre Punks and sidled up to her side.
"Hey, babe," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Ready to go?"
"Like, totally! Let's, like, make for the hills, okay?" Nao replied ecstatically. She was a professional, and Sota was her everything. The diamonds were in the car, carefully sewed into a purse and set in necklaces that were trendy all over Shibuya. To the average Shibuya fashion whiz, Nao was just taking advantage of the sudden rush for rhinestones and cubic zirconium. It was cool to not have ridiculous amounts of cash right now, and clear gems were in.
The actual cubic zirconium and rhinestones had been taken out and put in the diamonds' original bag, left on a park bench out in Miyashita.
Sota grinned at Nao and together, they walked to the car, grabbing Nao's purse full of its "fake" jewelry and making their way toward the train station. At Hachiko, they were stopped when Sota thought he saw something happen--saw someone flicker in and out of existence for a moment. He was jarred by the experience, and Nao focused her attention on him for a moment, letting their guard down.
They never saw the guy coming.
"Well, it's good to see my work cut out for me," he said to Sota and Nao's corpses in the alley. "The diamonds are disguised and everything. I knew it was a good idea to shadow you two." He carefully wrapped both Sota and Nao's hand around the gun, careful not to touch it himself with his ungloved hand. Their prints were all over the gun, and their corpses artfully arranged. To the living, it looked like a betrayal.
