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||Haunted||Closed Thread||@Hakuba||

osakandetectivehattori:

▌│█║▌║▌║ coмe on, coмe on, don’т leave мe lιĸe тнιѕ. ║▌║▌║█│▌

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Hattori knew he was being a huge cheater. He and Hakuba had made a bet – on what he couldn’t remember now – and Hattori had won. The winner got to choose one thing for the other to do, and they had to do it no matter what. Hattori had a few ideas, but when he’d seen this advertised in the area, he pointed to it and grinned.

Hakuba would have to accompany him to a haunted house.

One of the locals in the area had inherited a house and done it up for Halloween. You could buy tickets at the door and groups of two would go into the house, exploring the jump scares and likes. He knew the other feared ghosts, but it wasn’t like this was a real haunted house, just one made by someone who could likely use the extra cash. There would be people in masks waiting to jump out at you, low lighting and fake spider webs.

▌│█║▌║▌║ ι тнoυgнт ι нad yoυ ғιgυred oυт ║▌║▌║█│▌

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At least that had been what he’d thought. Now that he was standing in line – there was a rather large one – the house itself gave him the Hebe jebes. There was something about the large mansion like place, it’s rusted iron gates and the lights that would flicker on and off, at least from what he could see from outside. He had heard people talk about doors slamming closed, rattling and that there were no actors.

Of course that could just be people trying to hype it up.

Either way, the smoke machine he could spot in the corner, the long grass, unraked leaves and fake tombstones in the front yard definitely gave the house a haunted atmosphere.  He could also see the usage of black lights from one of the boarded up windows – most of them were, if not filled with iron bars. It was the very picture of ‘enter at your own risk’ that was for sure.

▌│█║▌║▌║ can’т вreaтнe wнenever yoυ’re gone ║▌║▌║█│▌

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Hattori played with the rim of his hat.

He wasn’t superstitious himself, even though Kazuha was – always making him wear that charm – and yeah, sometimes he had dreams that sometimes came true. Well, not so much come true, that only really happen ed once or twice. It was just his over active imagination mixed with his detective abilities making them seem like prophetic dreams. No one could actually see the future.

There was still something about this house that seemed off.

▌│█║▌║▌║ can’т тυrn вacĸ now, ι’м нaυnтed ║▌║▌║█│▌

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He was thankful when it was their turn. He forked out the money, paying for both tickets – he was the one who dragged Hakuba into this – before the other could protest and headed towards the front door. He grinned at the blonde, hands resting behind his back innocent as he watched him. If Hakuba seemed too scared, or like he would be sick Hattori would pull out.

He wasn’t that cruel.

“Ya ready Hakuba? This is i’, las’ chance ta pull ou’.”

“I’ll be fine…” came Hakuba’s somewhat distracted reply as he looked the house over, expression carefully neutral though his legs were stiff and unwilling to move forward without a considerable amount of effort. He’d explored houses like this before. And castles. Ruins. Catacombs. It left a chill on him that he couldn’t quite shake, but he wasn’t about to back out now. Not with Hattori goading him. 

With a deep breath, he forced himself forward, chin up, jaw tight. The chances of the house legitimately being haunted were slim, anyway, and he wasn’t exactly one to be frightened by jump scares (usually), so it wouldn’t be a problem. Really.

“Besides, it’s Halloween. This country doesn’t appreciate it enough as-is, so I’ve got to do something in spirit with the season…”

by

Catching Up With Fate

kuroba-k:

It would be a lie if Kaito said he’d expected Hakuba to shy back now. The horror on his patient’s face was more than obvious and made the therapist almost stumble with his words. But his pokerface saved him just in time and he continued to smile politely. He’d learned to deal with this at school and just because it was Hakuba, he didn’t need to fret. Even though it did irk his curiousity as to why. Just because he barely knew him privatly in the past? That was a rather weak reason for a guy like Hakuba. So something deeper must be going on there.

“The shirt’s fine and I can cover up everything I don’t need to look at for the moment. I know it can feel uncomfortable to show off scars. But it is necessary for me to see for your treatment and I need to touch it, to feel the tissue, I can’t judge from looking only, because a lot of it is going on beneath the surface. I’ll also be telling you what I’m going to do the whole time and you can tell me to stop whenever it gets too uncomfortable. How’s that sound?” Kaito still gave off an air of being relaxed, no awkwardness at all.

The worried reaction also caused him to sit back down on his chair and turning a quarter away from his patient, grabing the file once more, opening the doctor’s report to read a few things over while watching Hakuba only from the corner of his eyes and letting him go on undressing on his own.

“Yes, that’s fine.” There was a definite tone of relief in his voice at that; leaving his shirt on meant that there was less chance that his back would be shown, and though there were many medical professionals who now knew of the scars’ existence, he really didn’t want to add to the list. He went about, unbuckling his belt, undoing his trousers, and very awkwardly slipping down from the table onto his good leg to remove it all. 

It was a long process, and Hakuba realized quickly that he should have gone in an entirely different order. These days when he got undressed for bed, he was usually too tired and drugged to really pay attention to how he stripped, but in the office, it was an entirely different matter. 

Still, he was stubborn and determined, and far too proud to ask for help. With a few false starts and a lot of leaning against the reclining therapist chair, the detective did manage to get his socks, shoes, and trousers off, all of which ended up haphazardly strewn on the floor with little energy left to sort them out. And while it was unlike the detective to not care about wrinkling his clothing, he was so far done with the experience that he just ignored it, and scooted back onto the chair.

“All right…” he said, looking down past his boxer-briefs to the brace around his leg, and unstrapped it to reveal the very nasty-looking scarring and still-healing wounds. “Do your worst." 

by

Lucky Thirteen

He traced his fingers along the underside of the desk, and frowned when the traction was all too slick. Pulling back revealed what he’d feared; blood smeared on the tips of his gloves. 

“That makes thirteen,” Hakuba said, pulling off the pair with a sigh. “No body, no forced sign of entry, just blood in precarious places.” He turned to his companion for the case, one Kudou Shinichi, letting his shoulders sag in obvious disappointment. “Do you suppose this sample will match any of the others?”

If the blood found in the office buildings had belonged to one sample, it might be nothing more than a disgusting prank or threat, but the fact that the previous twelve had matched DNA samples of twelve independent sources – all of which happening to be missing people – spoke more of murder. Which is why the first division was called in, including the consulting half-brit, as an attempt to give Kudou someone more his ‘age’ to work with.

Unfortunately, clues had been few and far between, and they only ever knew where to look because of the mysterious notes delivered anonymously to the station in the morning. Day thirteen, another note, another drive to yet another large corporate building, and another desk with blood all along the underside of it, but no where else. 

An interesting mystery to be sure, but no less frustrating.