Part 3: December
Chapter 1: December 1
The next morning, Daisuke dragged his feet as the school came into sight. What am I going to say to Hiwatari-kun?
Silence.
Dark, I could use some help here.
I dunno, Daisuke. You could tell him the truth, that you panicked.
Yeah...should I apologize?
Are you sorry? Dark asked cryptically.
What's that supposed to mean?
Shit, Dark said suddenly. Whatever you decide to do, do it quick. Hiwatari's right there!
Daisuke looked up to find Satoshi leaning against the wall outside the gate, waiting.
"Hiwatari-kun!" Daisuke said nervously. "Um, look, I panicked—"
Satoshi held up a hand, and Daisuke fell silent. "Do you still want this charade to continue?" he asked seriously.
"What?" Daisuke was confused.
"The fiction of us, together," the older boy explained coolly. "Do you still want to go on with it?"
Why is he asking me this?
I think he's offering you the chance to go on as if nothing happened, Daisuke. "Yes…" Daisuke said slowly.
Satoshi nodded. "We'd better go in then."
Daisuke nodded and followed slowly, with the uncomfortable feeling that there was something else he should have said.
XXXXX
Niwa had disappeared with the ease and agility of a phantom thief as soon as the bell for lunch rang, but Satoshi had expected that. Daisuke had spent all morning looking guilty and uneasy whenever the redhead's gaze met his own cool stare. As a result, Satoshi was understandably surprised as the creak of the roof's door revealed Niwa at the top of the stairwell.
"Is it okay if I eat with you?" he asked tentatively.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Satoshi shrugged.
"Yeah, you're right, of course," Daisuke said brightly. Too brightly. "So did you understand anything in chemistry this morning? I really didn't understand the whole bit about catalysts, although that could have been because Saehara kept poking me. I'm not sure if he actually wanted my attention or if he was just poking me for fun…"
"Niwa," Satoshi sighed as Daisuke continued to babble, trying to fill the uneasiness between them with words.
"And I missed ten minutes of instructions and then I didn't know what the experiment was supposed to show…"
"Niwa," Satoshi said again, sympathetic to his plight but beginning to get irritated.
Daisuke continued to chatter nervously, oblivious to the other boy's growing impatience. "And then my beaker exploded and Masahiro just sat there and laughed…"
"Niwa."
"And then when I went to turn in my history homework, it turns out Mom had spilled strawberry jam on the edge and With had chewed on it…"
Satoshi closed his eyes in exasperation. "Niwa!" The redhead stopped in mid-babble and stared at him, eyes wide. The commander sighed. "It's okay."
Daisuke continued to gape at him, eyes wide and wary.
"Okay?" Satoshi asked carefully.
Daisuke studied him intently for another long moment, and then, slowly, started to smile. "Okay."
In his relief, Satoshi couldn't hold back a small smile. "Okay. So, about the Second Hand of Time..."
XXXXX
In an effort to keep family relations from degenerating any further, Daisuke didn't stay too long after school researching with Satoshi. He figured that, while it might be a good idea to stay out of his mom's way until she calmed down, staying out of his mom's way—withSatoshi—would in no way contribute to the calming down process.
Chill out, Daisuke, Dark suggested. She fumed yesterday; it's out of her system. I'm certain she'll have the usual traps set up and waiting for you tonight as an apology.
Daisuke sighed. If that's Mom's way of apologizing…
Dark just chuckled.
Sure enough, the hallway was completely empty when Daisuke swung the front door open—and that was never a good sign. What do you think she had planned today?
Trapdoors, tripwires, and anvils hanging from the ceiling.
Daisuke raised an eyebrow. Anvils?
What? Emiko is creative.
As usual, Daisuke picked the spot that looked the most untrustworthy and dropped his backpack there. Nothing happened. He cautiously took a few steps forward; still nothing.
Maybe she didn't do anything, Daisuke commented.
Now that you've said that—
The very next tile Daisuke stepped on fell out from under him, revealing a pit full of spikes.
—something will happen, Dark finished.
Daisuke threw himself forward and almost cleared the pit. His right foot caught the far edge of the hole, sending him sprawling forward. As he went down, he noticed the faint squiggly lines that indicated pressure-sensitive floor sensors. Daisuke got his hands underneath him and caught himself, nose a few centimeters above the ground. He froze there for a second, arms carefully placed on either side of the sensor, quivering with the strain. A motion sensor flickered into life ten centimeters above his back.
Oh… Daisuke's voice trailed off.
I believe the word you're looking for is 'shit,' Dark said helpfully.
Daisuke remained in his frozen push-up position as he tried to decide what to do. Thanks.
Anytime.
The redhead gathered himself and launched forward, turning his lunge into a tight somersault.
You know, Daisuke, the thief began conversationally, you really should swear more. Wall sensor, he warned suddenly.
Daisuke stopped his roll right before he hit the hidden pad with his elbow. If I started swearing, Mom would kill me.
She hasn't succeeded yet, Dark commented dryly.
The teen grinned slightly and took a step forward, catching his foot on an almost-transparent string. A slight creak came from the direction of the ceiling. Daisuke threw himself back, and a foam-rubber anvil landed with a thud in front of him.
See?! I told you! Dark crowed triumphantly. Trapdoors, tripwires, and anvils!
Daisuke stared at the anvil blankly. You and my mother think so much alike that it is truly disturbing.
Dark shrugged, and Daisuke walked through the kitchen door. "I'm home," he began.
Emiko appeared out of nowhere and hugged him tightly. "Wonderful job, Daisuke!"
"Can't…breathe," Daisuke gasped. His mom released him, and stepped back. Í guess this means you're not mad anymore," he asked hopefully.
The smile slid from Emiko's face, and she sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. "You're old enough to make your own decisions, Daisuke. And I guess if you two have been pretending for this long and nothing has happened, it might be okay. But, Daisuke, I want you to be on your guard. I know you think the Hikari is your friend…"
"Mom," Daisuke began hotly, but Emiko waved a hand, cutting him off.
"Listen to me for a minute," she said softly. "Just…be careful, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you."
Daisuke sighed. "I know." He walked over and gave her a small hug. "It'll be okay, Mom."
She gave him a small smile, but suddenly grew serious.
"What's wrong?" Daisuke asked nervously, backing up a step.
Emiko stood and put her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you actually activated that trip wire I set to bring down the anvil. It was obvious if you were paying attention," she scolded.
That's my Emiko, Dark said proudly.
"Mom…"
"Really, Daisuke, I taught you better than that! I have half a mind to have your grandfather run you through the beginner's exercises again if you fall for something that obvious!"
And as Emiko continued to lecture him, Daisuke sighed.
What? Dark asked curiously.
You know, my life was a lot quieter when she was mad at me.
XXXXX
Satoshi approached the museum. As usual, the entire perimeter was ringed with police, and a crowd of spectators, mostly women, were milling around excitedly.
Inspector Saehara was talking animatedly with a man in plainclothes. Satoshi ducked under one of the cordons and walked toward them.
The man saw him first, and turned to face him impatiently. "Look kid, this area is restricted to police. You need to go back," he snapped.
Inspector Saehara winced.
Satoshi gazed at him coolly and dispassionately, as if he were dissecting the man with his eyes. "You must be Hashimoto-san," he said finally.
"And you are?" the man asked, a trifle warily.
"Hiwatari Satoshi."
"Ah." Hashimoto looked him over calculatedly. "Hiwatari-san's told me about you. So tell me, are you his prodigy or his protégé?"
"Whichever you prefer," Satoshi said neutrally.
"And how old are you?" the man asked, smiling slightly.
"Um, right," the inspector interrupted. "I'm going to check to make sure the men have their instructions." And with that, he vanished more quickly than Satoshi had thought possible by anyone not Niwa.
"I don't see how my age is relevant," he answered. "I'm sure you are familiar with my qualifications."
"Oh yes," Hashimoto said, leaning against a squad car and casually folding his arms across his chest. "Graduated from Lagoon University in Germany at the age of thirteen, double majoring in art history and criminal science. Finished training as a police officer in a few months. You mainly did research on art thefts for the couple years, and then Hiwatari appointed you as special commander in charge of catching Dark." He raised an eyebrow. "Surprised?"
"No," Satoshi said calmly. "I expected nothing less from a man who has specialized in art thefts since his own training days, a man who has the distinction of recovering over 90 of the art that he seeks, the man in this country who has had the most art-related arrests to his name in the past seven years."
Hashimoto looked taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Nicely done, Commander. Perhaps you are useful, at that."
Annoyance flashed in Satoshi's eyes. "Now that we have established that I do indeed have the right to be here, may I ask why you are here?"
The man smiled, composure regained. "I'm here to help, Commander."
"The gesture is appreciated, but unnecessary," Satoshi replied.
"Of course," Hashimoto said casually. "You have it all under control."
Satoshi frowned.
"And yet, Dark continues to slip out of your grasp," the man continued. "So some of the higher powers decided that maybe it was time to call in a specialist. As you apparently know my qualifications, you have to admit that perhaps they had a point."
"This is my case," Satoshi stated icily.
Hashimoto smiled humorlessly. "Not anymore."
"There he is!" came a shout from one of the officers. Dark's winged figure could be clearly seen off in the distance. The crowd started to rumble excitedly.
Satoshi cursed silently and started to run toward his position on the ground floor stairwell, but a sharp tug at the back of his shirt nearly pulled him off his feet. He whirled and glared at the man who had grabbed his shirt collar.
The officer smiled. "I'm in charge tonight, young Hiwatari. Stay here with me and let me show you how it's done."
Exercising a great amount of self-control, Satoshi merely nodded and stood next to the man. Inwardly, however, he was seething at the man's presumption.
Hashimoto was studying the aerial thief with interest. "What kind of device is he using to stay up there?" he murmured. "It moves almost like a bird."
Satoshi bit his tongue on the retort he was about to make, and instead kept his gaze on the sky. As he expected, Dark posed there long enough to make an impression, then disappeared.
Hashimoto yanked the walkie-talkie off his belt and began barking commands. From the garbled mess of confused exclamations and muttered curse words, it was fairly evident that Dark was running rings around Azumano's finest again.
"Look," Hashimoto snapped. "Just follow the plan. Surround him, pin him in a corner, and take him down!"
A distressed squawk was only answer.
"What the hell—he's outnumbered by twenty to one! What do you mean you can't catch him?!"
The sound of shattering glass, both from over the walkie-talkie and also from above, caught the two officers' attention. They looked up just in time to see Dark throw himself out the broken window with the painting triumphantly clutched under one arm. The phantom thief fell until he was about four meters above the ground before unfurling his wings and dramatically taking flight once again.
Hashimoto cast a sideways glance at Satoshi, who was carefully maintaining a deadpan expression. The man's eyes narrowed, and he held the walkie-talkie to his mouth once more.
"Snipers, execute," he barked.
Satoshi's head snapped around to stare at the man. "Snipers?!"
The sound of several muted shots rang in the distance.
The older officer stared down at Satoshi with a slight smile. "Don't worry, commander, they're just tranquilizer darts. He should be able to make it to the ground before it takes full effect."
Eyes hard, Satoshi didn't answer, but instead he pointedly looked back at the flying thief. Dark was gracefully avoiding each shot, dipping and twirling in midair as the darts flew by him.
"That's not possible," Hashimoto said disbelievingly. "No personal flying device can move like that."
Eventually, the snipers ran out of darts and Dark ceased his aerial acrobatics. The crowd cheered. As a finale, Dark buzzed over the bunched officers, moving only a meter over their heads, causing them to duck and run. He swooped down over Satoshi and Hashimoto, graced them with an obscene gesture, and flew off into the night.
Satoshi glanced back at the dumbfounded expression on Hashimoto's face. He wanted very much to toss the man's boasts back in his face, but realized that, satisfying as it would be, discretion would probably be more desirable in maintaining his working relationships at headquarters. And so, not wanting to make any enemies, Satoshi simply turned and walked towards Inspector Saehara to see what had gone wrong this time.