Un unusual heist, for a special theft.

Author's note: I do not encourage carrying guns... Be it unloaded, dissuasive and especially aggressive. Guns are dangerous things. Please, don't imitate Hakuba unless you really are sure you know what you're doing ;.;

Part Two: Hakuba is defeated once again...

µInsert here image of Hakuba in his deerstalker coat, going Why? With his antique watch in hand.µ

When Saguru Hakuba got home that evening, the first thing he did was go put on some water for his tea, put on some soothing music and slump onto the sofa.
Today had Not been as straight forward as he'd hoped.

'HE HAD THAT GRIN!'
The first few lessons had been normal. After a boring biology class (they were studying rocks for Watson's sake!), they had had a rather dull and tedious maths lesson.
Saguru had actually welcomed (even though only in thought) the diversion Kuroba had brought on by accidentally dropping a smoke bomb.
The dark blond haired boy poured his tea into his cup, before sitting down again. He ignored the burning heat as he clasped his fingers tightly around the cup.

'He HAD that GRIN!'
It had been most unsettling when he noticed it. The wild-haired class clown... Grinning... at Him! Why, oh why had Kuroba grinned at him?!
The two boys loathed each other! They spent more time glaring at each other than they spent smiling at others... And that was saying something in Kuroba's case.

'He had 'THAT' grin!'
That could not be good.
Having saved his fingers from a serious scalding by putting his cup down; Saguru reached out for his satchel.
He plonked the Newspaper he'd got early that morning on the table, preparing to read it in a vain effort to get rid of his queasiness.

He didn't even have time to read the titles when he heard a loud squawk, followed by a small banging.
"WATSON!"
Within seconds he was running towards the back of the Mansion, where Watson was kept. His heart pounding, the various scenarios in his head often included a cheeky classmate who took to wearing white at night.
He arrived to face a confused looking falcon, calm and still in its cage.
'What's the meaning of this?' He thought, confused.
He hadn't dreamt the noise. His eyes darted around, searching for evidence. He found a small speaker on the floor, linked to a miniature receiver.

'A diversion...'
Quietly, the youth went to his father's study. His father wouldn't be back till late, and his mother, as well as all the household servants, was away for the week. The house should be empty!
He took out his father's uncharged revolver. If there was an intruder, that should be enough of a deterrent.
He then proceeded to searching the large mansion, room by room...

µImagine a Sherlock Holmes branded Magnifying glass.µ

Nothing.
Not even the trace of an intrusion.
Having found all the rooms empty and heard no movement, Saguru had checked all the exits possible. That meant an awful lot of windows, as well as numerous doors, paper, normal or French.

Struck dumb, he mechanically put his father's empty gun away, returned to his seat, and mindlessly sipped his now stone-cold tea.
There was only one person he could think of who could have done this, and somehow, the thought disturbed him. A lot.

He fiddled with the speaker, wishing against hope that he'd find something to contradict his suspicions.
A grinning graffiti beamed at him.
Saguru dropped the speaker in disgust.
Watson, which he had let out of her cage, landed on his shoulder, peering at him in what seemed a puzzled look.

Why? What had been his goal?!
He believed he knew his opponent, not enough to understand his motives, but at least enough to know his actions served a set purpose. Sometimes the purpose was unbelievable, but it still –was- a purpose.
And what of the warning? He always gave due warning when he could, however cryptically.
Saguru could feel his brain cells searching for a theory, or a beginning of an explanation.

It was then that he saw it.
He squawked, causing his pet Watson to flutter off disgruntled. It was staring him square in the face: the answer to all his questions.

There, on the very table in front of him.

His hands gripped the paper he had yet to read.
A familiar looking notice was taped onto the front page, masking the photography of the head story.

"Just checking in on my favourite detective,
Sorry if I disturbed your feathered friend.
Your Newspaper provided a very interesting read,
You can tell Nakamouri to expect to hear from me soon.
Signed, Phantom Thief KID µ grinning Kid face.µ "

Now he knew why Kuroba had had That grin.
Somewhere, deep down, Saguru felt grateful that the Kid had chosen to steal in style rather than stealth.