Chapter 4

Kaito couldn't stop holding Shinichi. He was dozing against Kaito's shoulder while he stayed resolutely awake, sitting between Shinichi and the door. The glass separating the two rooms had gone dark a while ago, which Kaito was thankful for—he didn't want to think about the corpse anymore. But despite the exhaustion resting deep in his bones, he stayed awake and held Shinichi tight.

They'd take him away if he didn't.

Blood had thoroughly soaked through his grimy suit; it could barely be considered white anymore. It stuck to his skin and smelled awful, but Shinichi didn't seem to mind it, curled up as he was with one ear on his chest. Listening to his heart beat. Kaito was touched.

"My mother died when I was seven." Kaito hadn't been expecting Shinichi to speak. He tightened his arms around him. "It… wasn't even related to the Organization. It was a car crash. But after that… my father changed. He grew distant, more interested in the Organization than me. Vermouth practically raised me instead, though I know she didn't want to, doing it out of love for my mother over anything else.

"When I turned 14, he started sending me on missions to destroy evidence. The police never suspected me—to them, I was just the eccentric teen detective that could solve any murder. I got my codename after I successfully purged all of Japan of any evidence of the Org. Dad… Anokata hasn't called me by anything else since."

He tucked Shinichi carefully under his chin, minding their wounds. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You couldn't have done anything."

They sat like that for a while longer, perhaps hours, until the door opened. The blond from before stood there, sneering at their position before tossing a pile of black into the room. It landed with a light thud. "Put those on. You have five minutes." The door slammed shut, leaving them alone again.

Shinichi got off him to pick the clothes up and Kaito couldn't stop a sigh of disappointment. His poker face had practically shattered from the stress of the last few weeks. Staggering up, Kaito grabbed the clothes Shinichi offered him.

Black shirt. Black pants. Black underwear. No shoes, no belt, nothing that could be used as a weapon. The pants didn't even have pockets. Still, Kaito put them on. He felt… almost thankful for them. They may be black, but they were clean. They didn't smell, or stick to his body, or crunched from the dried blood when he bended. Instead, they were light, cotton, loose enough for him to use his acrobatics in. So Kaito didn't complain. He wasn't in the position to complain anyway.

He hadn't watched Shinichi change, but when he looked back, he saw that Shinichi had only changed his shirt and had wrapped the old one around his hand as a makeshift bandage. He was about to say something—that shirt was covered in blood and other questionable things, it can't be good for the wound—but before he could open his mouth, blondie was back.

This time he had a gun and was pointing it at Shinichi. Kaito's lips curled. "Absinthe leaves first, then KID. If either of you attack me, I won't hesitate to shoot."

They complied. Kaito wanted to jump the man and beat his head into the ground, but forced them to walk in front of him with the gun's muzzle touching the base of Shinichi's neck. Shinichi didn't let this disturb him though, as he looked indifferent about the entire matter. "What is this about, Gin?" Shinichi asked.

"That man wants to speak with the two of you," came the gruff reply. "He didn't mention why, but I have no doubt it has to do with your thief."

A hum. "Thank you."

"Just watch your mouth this time, kid."

Curious. Kaito evaluated the man from the corner of his eye. Was Gin an ally? Already, a plan was starting to form in his mind of escaping from this prison, with Shinichi running step in step beside him. Could Gin be the key to this? He shouldn't get his hopes up. So far, Gin's only shown a slight affection towards Shinichi, that didn't mean he was completely on their side. But if he was…

The halls they walked through were metal and practical, like a warehouse, but they stopped in front of carved wooden French doors. Shinichi took the liberty to open them and all three stepped inside.

Inside was an office, but it looked more like a library with its floor to roof bookshelves filled to the brim. At the center of it was a desk and there sat a man with a passing resemblance to Shinichi and, alarmingly, Kaito's own father. He wore glasses, thick rims that couldn't hide blue eyes that couldn't hold a candle to the brilliance of Shinichi's eyes. Both his mustache and hair was Shinichi's dark brown and his skin was pale, like he hasn't seen the sun in a long time.

Anokata—he couldn't be anyone else—didn't look at them. His focus was on the water faucet dripping in front of him. The water landed on a sugar cube, balanced over a goblet by a silver spoon. As they approached, Kaito saw that there were holes in the spoon, allowing the water to run through cleanly. These were the only things on the desk.

"Leave us, Gin." There was that silvery voice again, like poisoned honey. Gin left, no longer needed to threaten them. Anokata could probably handle a half-starved teen and his son, especially since he was probably armed. "Shinichi, come here."

His eyes widened, but Shinichi had no other reaction than walking up to the edge of the desk. Kaito stiffened and Anokata continued. "Absinthe is an odd drink. That is why I named you after it. In order to drink it, it must be diluted with water; otherwise it would probably kill you because of its strength. It complies to a ritual that all serious drinkers obey. And… there's always the possibility it could drive you mad.

The sugar had completely dissolved. Anokata gave it a quick stir before taking a sip. "A good absinthe should not taste like star anise or licorice. And yet both are in you, Absinthe. I gave you express orders to only observe Irish's progress, not to interfere, and you certainly weren't supposed to start fraternizing with him. You disobeyed me, and so, you were punished." He stared up at Shinichi, eyes cold and calculating. "Do you regret your decision, Absinthe?"

Shinichi exhaled. "No."

Slap!

Shinichi reeled back, holding his cheek, only for Anokata to grab him and wrench him over the side of the desk. Kaito surged forward, but one look at the fear on Shinichi's face froze him. Rage boiled inside him. How dare he… no one should ever lay a hand on Shinichi! He wanted—his eyes widened. He wanted to cut that hand off.

Anokata's grip on Shinichi tightened, forcing him to cry out. "You will not disobey me. Am I understood, Absinthe?"

"Y-Yes…" came the wobbly reply. Anokata released him. He stood with a cough, rubbing his throat. His eyes never left the floor. He was trembling.

So was Kaito, fists curled and ready to strike.

"Kaitou KID." Now Anokata was looking at Kaito and he had to say, he preferred it that way. If his focus was on him, he couldn't hurt Shinichi. Kaito shivered under his gaze. "I didn't expect you to survive long after I gave you to Irish. We discovered how… little you know of our enemies early on. You were supposed to die. Now, it seems, we know why." Anokata sneered at Shinichi. "Still, what to do with you… I suppose an execution can be arranged—"

"Don't."

Anokata glared at Shinichi, who didn't meet his eye. "Excuse me?"

"Please… don't." Shinichi glanced back at Kaito and bit his lip. "Father."

Anokata leaned back in his chair and exhaled through his nose. "You've developed feelings for him." Shinichi flinched. "Damn it all…" He drank again. "Then, Kaitou KID, let's make another deal."

Kaito's upper lip curled. Anokata didn't offer deals, only the illusion of choice. And after what he threatened last time… "What deal?"

He smirked. "Work for me, or you both will die."

There was no hesitance this time, only hatred for Anokata. "I'll work." He had to protect Shinichi. He was all he had left.

Anokata's smirk widened. Kaito wanted to stab him. "Excellent choice."