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“Lupin! You get down here!”
“Not now, tottchan! I’m a little busy!”
The thief only winced and stumbled at the search light blaring his way, but he kept momentum, rushing on across the rooftop to continue his chase for Blake.
Zenigata grumbles and clicks his tongue. A break in at an antique jewellery store, only that alongside Lupin’s tight little gang, a bigger group was hounding for the same moonstone ring. Jigen and Goemon had stayed to deal with the henches, while Lupin made chase for the sleight handed Tom Blake, who got the ring first. The inspector, of course, could not understand the obsession on a ring of a supposedly lauded noble lady with a supposed cave of treasure somewhere down the hills. But Lupin had wanted the darn thing, so what better chance to cuff him? He fiddled with the megaphone’s button, and took a deep breath.
“Lupin! You’re under arrest!”
The answering cry was loud at its own merit, “Oh, bother someone else!”
Zenigata grumbled and swore under his breath. He turned to the policemen behind him, “All units, head to—!”
Bang!
A gasp—”Hold your fires!”—Zenigata’s head whipped back to the roof, his eyes widening as smoke wafts from the end of Blake’s gun, the quickhand facing the thief at one end of the roof. Lupin stills from his chase a distance away from the man, his own eyes wide, staggering, Walther tipping in his slackening hands. Red blooms at the right corner of his yellow tie. Zenigata’s heart dropped.
“Lupin!” he cried.
The thief swayed, footsteps wobbly falling back. His gun-hand tries to aim once again, but the movement ruins his balance—a noise broke out of him as he leans further sideways, falling from the roof—
“Lupin, NO!”
He fell to the other side, away from their sight—there was a loud crash, joined by vibrations through the ground up their feet. Zenigata turned back to Blake, fury rising at the smirk on his face.
“Damnit!” He took aim and fired—but the young assassin set off jumping through the rooftops at the first shot, zooming through the dark towards the trees of the city park.
“Damnit and hell! Get that boy, arrest him! Get him! Spare no expenses!”
The officers clamor to make chase, chopper thundering and sirens blowing off behind them. But Zenigata rushed ahead of him, turning to the other side of the warehouse. There was a smaller storage next to it, like a coop, its roof mangled above it. Zenigata shouldered and broke through the small door, greeted with broken wood beams and cheap aluminum roofs, billowing dust and twisted cables.
“Lupin!” Zenigata jumped over a fallen beam, eyeing the rubbles in the ground. “Lupin, where—? Lupin!”
There he was, a bundle of green slumped sideways under broken roof sheets. Dark eyes opened and turned to his own with a small twitch in his lips. Zenigata’s stomach dropped.
“Shit—” a cough, “Tottchan…”
With a curse, he hurried to move the rubble away from the body. His sergeant hurried to the other side of the fallen debris, helping Zenigata uncover Lupin from the broken roof sheet and clear out the larger debris from around the thief.
“Get the medics here!” Zenigata barked at another officer. He kneeled down beside Lupin, gently turning the younger man to his back, clicking his tongue at the sight. “Shit, boy…”
There’s no other bleeding except for the slight gash on his temple and the gun wound itself, but Lupin yelps and winces as he is turned over.
“Shoulder, shoulder…!”
“It’s dislocated,” said the lieutenant.
Lupin groaned. “Fuck…”
“Gonna have to wait for the medics—I don't know how to properly set it back.” Zenigata gently moved the arm, bending it at the elbow and placing it before the thief’s front. Gentle as he tried while it quick, the pain from moving it must’ve been immaculate
“Pops, don’t…” Lupin whimpered, gritted through after a series of winces.
“Gotta keep it stable, alright?” Zenigata said, wrangling one of the bandages he packed around the arm to keep it strapped to the chest.
“Awowowowow—God, Pops, your first aid needs work…”
“You be quiet—where’s that medic!?”
His sergeant leaped at the shout, and hurried to scuttle away, “I-I-I’ll get them, sir.”
“Mind the shouting, Pops—agh!”
Zenigata pried Lupin’s other hand clutched at his stomach, both wincing—him at the blood, Lupin at the pain.
“Not—not good for your blood pressure, old man,” the thief wheezed.
“You be quiet!” Zenigata growled, hurrying to press another of his packed bandages to the gaping wound firmly. “You were the reason it got up in the first place.”
There’s a faint heave of a laugh. “That’s right… You were my age then, right? That time in Shinjuku… Nabbed me right by the ankles…”
The ravenous face of eighteen year old Lupin kicking him down the stairs of a jewellery store was one of the reasons for his obsessive pursuit. He was a new sergeant then, furious with an injured pride, but Zenigata couldn't help but smile now.
“You were a real brat then.” He turned to the thief, “Still is… and still as reckless.”
Lupin’s fond smile was weak. Zenigata clucked his tongue, and returned the pressure on the wound. “Reckless, hot-heated boy—you just had to jump after Blake, huh.”
“Pride, Pops. Stupid manly pride,” the thief murmured, his eyes closing and opening with his slow breath. “Can't let that kid just swipe rings from under my nose.”
Another slow breath, another fluttering eyelids. Zenigata nearly barked at him when Lupin spoke again, “It's been years huh, Pops?”
Near twenty years if he really thought hard about it.
“Yeah…” Zenigata doesn't like his quietness. There’s an aloofness in the thief’s words, like that time they got stuck among corpses under that castle—but his eyes are ragged, tired despite the ghost of a smile, the frowns of his brows as he winces from time to time. The sergeant hadn’t returned yet, despite the commotion and blaring sirens about of them.
“Think I should let you catch me and quit?”
Zenigata’s head whipped down at the quiet words, finding the thief’s face slackening, eyes drooping—
“Oh no, you don’t. No, you don’t! Oi, Lupin…!”
The thief hummed.
Zenigata grits his teeth, annoyed that his hands have to stay in one place. “You mad lad, don’t black out just yet. Listen here. Listen. I'll let you go this time, but after you get better. Alright?”
That pulled a grin from the thief, and his eyes peered open, “The commissioner wouldn't like that.”
The inspector huffed, ignoring the heat behind his eyes. “Damn it, Lupin.”
There’s another huff of a weak laugh, “Oh, Pops.”
Lupin’s good hand reached over, slow fingers creeping up to Zenigata’s closest wrist to grasp it warmly, weakly.
“I’m glad you're here.”
When he came to, it was because of something warm at the top of his head, ruffling and patting at his hair. Drowsiness still settled heavily in him to be fully roused, but Lupin felt a smile lifting his lips, shifting to weakly nuzzled back into that warmth. Pops really is a sentimental fool sometimes.
The next time he was drawn fully awake was to a white room and a beeping monitor. It wasn’t often that he would go down to such critical points, his whole jumping through castles and drifting his F1 through corners considered. The sterile scent wafts through his nose, but alongside that is a soft tang-sweetness, along with a quiet noise of cutting. Lupin turned his head towards the window. Zenigata sat down before the daylight, one ankle over his knee as he slouched, hands over the plate in his lap, filled with the pale rind of an apple-like fruit, his hands working a blade to peel its surface.
Lupin smiled. “Pops…” he croaked.
The inspector looked up, smiling. “Surprised to find you still here. Fujiko not bailing the three of you out?”
Lupin chuckles. “Awh, Pops. Nice of you to wait on me.”
“Shut it, you little brat,” he mutters. “You were out for a whole day.”
Lupin looked about and felt for his own body. His left arm is jabbed with a needle, various bags connected to it in a joint tube, alongside the machines and the monitor on his index finger. There’s bandages around his torso, for the gunshot and the broken ribs, presumably. Lupin fiddles with the buttons at the side of his bed, making the upper part of it rise up so that he’s not looking at the sterile ceiling. The room is cool, but the sun is warm from behind the window, and aside from the chair the inspector is sitting on, and the makeshift bed-couch, it’s a rather private room. Zenigata had moved his fruit and plate to the side, standing up to pour him a glass of water.
“Don’t begrudge me,” Lupin said. He would have shrugged at any other time. “I’m getting on with age.”
“Says the one telling me I need to retire.”
Lupin took the glass of water with a small smirk, ignoring the Inspector’s scowl. He took care to sip slowly. The water is cool in his mouth, but he winces as it passes through his dry throat. He turned to slowly set the emptied glass on his bedside table, catching sight of his singular visitor then. Zenigata had cut off the last of the skin and is now slowly halving the fruit.
“Are those pears?”
“From Saitama.”
Lupin blinked. Sluggish, his needle-free arm reached out, “Gimme some.”
Zenigata cut one half into quarters, before putting one of them to Lupin’s hold. “Jigen and Goemon are held nearby. If you behave, they can visit.”
“Huh.” They’re quite outdone for this one quest. Lupin bit into the pear, pulling himself up slowly to sit up. “That's so—aitatatatattaa… agh!
“Don’t pull your stitches, idiot!” Zenigata rushed to him, big hands surprisingly gentle in pushing him back to lean on the bed. “And eat slowly—small bites should do it.”
Lupin grumbled, but continued on his pear with small nibbles. It’s crunchy and filled with juice, and he crushed and let the sweetness overcome his tongue. In his chair, the inspector is having his own big bite of pear, the size of it bulges out his cheeks as he chews. Lupin couldn’t help his chuckle.
“Remember that time in New York, Pops?”
Zenigata pondered, then scoffed. He’d cuffed them both together, but they had managed to share an enjoyable hefty steak at the hotel restaurant before Lupin took off again and the chase resumed.
“I’ll buy you soba, next time,” he grumbles, tilting his hat and leaning back to look at the thief. “When you're all patched up.”
“Iii-ne. Sounds good to me.” Lupin munches the last of his pear. Then his eyes lit up, and he leant closer to the inspector with a broad grin. “How about a smoke for now?”
“You little—what d’you mean by that!? You wanna die!?”