Tag Archives: clue

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Can you talk about hakuba’s childhood ^7^ or link me to where I can find out more? IM CURIOUS. I HAVE TO KNOW THINGS.

Ohhh goodness. I’m not sure what you were hoping for, specifically, but uh… here is a huge thing I wrote with links (and not all of them even exist yet but are drafted).

With canon Hakuba, we know very, very little. Uh. Here’s a not quite exhaustive list of what we know from canon. SO I have invented 90% of his history based on the little details from the manga/anime. I’m assuming that you’re asking about that, specifically, so here is a general breakdown, in chronological order:

In Japan:
Saguru James Hakuba was born in Tokyo, Japan a couple of years after his parents eloped. They lived there until he was about 7 years old, with frequent travelling (mostly spending summers and Christmas in England), then relocated “permanently” to the UK when his mother could no longer stand the racist comments/behavior directed at her son. Especially since his paternal grandparents refuse to acknowledge his parents’ marriage, and do not acknowledge Saguru as part of their family.

In England:
Hakuba started going by his middle name, James, as many had difficulty pronouncing ‘Saguru’ which resulted in a lot of teasing that he did not appreciate. He gets a Golden Retriever named Sherlock, is obsessed with dragons, and spends a good deal of his time reading anything he can get his hands on and playing out in the nature preserve behind the garden wall of his mother’s estate. He’s a chatterbox, very excited about learning, and studies the bible like a good little Christian boy, which pleases the grandparents on his mother’s side very much.

White Chapel Academy:
As smart as the little bugger is, he’s accepted into the prestigious (and very religious) White Chapel Academy boarding school and begins attending at age 9, which worked out well for his parents, as they’re dealing with martial problems and decided it would be a good opportunity for a trial separation. Hakuba Sr goes back to Japan, and Saguru is none the wiser. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before Mr. Know-It-All gets himself in trouble with the headmaster, Father Ramson, who turns out to be an abusive creep. It take nearly two years for Hakuba to get himself out of the situation. 

Aftermath:
Once the police got involved, the school was temporarily shut down and all children sent home. Little S. J. Hakuba realizes that his father hasn’t been living there, that his parents have been lying to him, and destroys all of his dragon army. For one year, he barely talks to anyone, and attempts to committ suicide. Baaya stops him, saves him, and keeps his secret, which is why she is the only one permitted to even touch him. He is eventually introduced to London’s Aviary Rehabilitation Institution, where he eventually meets Watson. His uncles also help, including Saguru in their annual deer hunt every autumn. He spends his summers helping Uncle Arthur with the horses, and goes to Paris with his mother at the end of August. They get him involved in a lot of classes, and he kisses a girl for the first time at the age of 13. At 14, he falls in love with John, another White Chapel victim, and they secretly go out for a month, only for things to violently fall apart. In the depression spiral that follows, Hakuba briefly lets himself be used for drug money, starts drinking, smoking, and a lot of experimentation. 

Losing His Spots:
After a second suicide attempt, though (also stopped by Baaya), Hakuba is ordered bed rest for recovery, and spends his time watching the news and reading books about law. He catches an inconsistency in a national scandal and informs Scotland Yard, who decide to let him help from time to time from then on. He also volunteers at the Sherlock Museum, and eagerly tells them of his solved cases any chance he gets. That summer, he goes through a massive growth spurt, and at 15 is invited to start going to his mother’s high society parties to woo the girls. 

There, he meets Laura O’Kello, who teaches him about The Game, which is a mutually beneficial agreement between the rich and privileged but tragically captured youth, allowing them to seduce each other at these boring events without any strings attached. He becomes very good at this game, and the practice he gets at being charming aids him in gaining favor with the media. By the time the car bombing incident happens, he’s beloved by England, has a gigantic fan following, an agent, photoshoots, and pretty much everyone adores him. He also buys a car out of pocket with money he’s saved from his detective work.

It’s also during this time that Hakuba meets Spider, and becomes obsessed with the assassin after a drug bust goes poorly and one of his former friends — who happened to be connected to one of Spider’s sources — is murdered in the process. 

Return to Japan:
Hakuba’s father begs Saguru to come back to Japan for a year abroad. This is partly because his mother says that he doesn’t care about their son, and partly because Kaitou KID has resurfaced but he’s too busy to investigate, himself, even though he STILL thinks there was something suspicious about Kuroba Toichi’s death. He tempts Saguru with piles of cold case files (his favorite) and promises of far too much power for someone not a part of the police force, but ultimately, it’s news of Spider’s targeting Kaitou KID that gets Hakuba to leave his comfortable life in London to become utterly lonely and despised in Ekoda. 

It’s, of course, during this time that he begins to investigate KID, finds out that he’s actually his classmate, decides to keep this boscombe secret after Nightmare, investigates the Sunset Mansion, is invited to the Koushien — which turns out to be a LIE — and falls for that stupid thief while feeling like it will never happen, not in a million years.

White Knight Widow:
This is technically the “current” arc that I’m doing with Hakuba in this timeline… I imagine that this is going on concurrently with The Call of the Raven story, since that focuses on Kaito and Conan teaming up, while Hakuba does his own thing… which just happens to be further drug investigations and the hunting of Spider, up until it crosses over into that story (which includes Hakuba and Akako being a couple for like a month). 

I’m sorry if this doesn’t actually give you the info that you were hoping for. LOL. At least this reference is super handy for me! 8) 

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phantom-thief-kid:

During the celebration of lord Shiva,
I shall take my prize on his day,
just after the cows return home,
dust settled from their tracks.

Serendipity, trust, and generosity.
I seek all three this time.

Though this prize is modern in name,
it shines among the best and brightest of old.
An ocean surrounded by stars,
Not an ounce of sun tainting the night.

-Kaitou KID

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“…interesting!”

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White Knight Widow | Part Two

[part 1 2]

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There wasn’t a lot of time.

Hakuba stood shaking in front of the mirror, palm sliced open from between his index and middle finger down to his wrist. Blood slid over his hand and dripped into the sink in a steady stream, and though he had the bandages laid out, he couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at his lips. It was so difficult to care about it. It hurt, certainly, but he’d stopped hissing a few moments ago. Really, all he wanted to do was continue to flex his hand, back and forth, and watch the way the skin pulled away from itself over that gash of red. 

It was fascinating, really. The threads of tissue and muscle. The hand was such an intricate piece of machinery… 

The detective shook his head. No. He had work to do. 

“Concentrate…" 

He shuddered, blinking several times before he turned to the supplies next to him. Bandages. A syringe. Liquid already measured out. But what was…? Oh- oh, yes the solution. Chemical compounds he’d put together in the labs earlier, which would react to certain parts of the…

…the drug…

The detective pressed his palm against the mirror and pulled his hand down over the reflection of his face. It was all so familiar… a memory from before. Years ago? Not too long ago. Something like that. His pack of friends had done this before. That was in London. Where was he now?

Not that it mattered. God, red was such a beautiful color. He smeared his hand sideways in an arc and sighed. Just like Koizumi-san; the sunrise, the sunset, heaven and earth. What was blue, anyway? Unoxygenated? Non… oxygenated? Blood…

No, that wasn’t right. That was just a myth. Blood wasn’t blue unless you were speaking of royalty. Which he was not. 

"Fuck my grandfather, really… who needs lineage? It’s all just a game… a bloody game of kiss and tell with papers like dogs and like horses. Horses…”

He touched his face and chuckled. 

Where were they? His mates.

“Lend me a fiver. Lend you a fiver. An’ we’ll head down to the pub fer a drink! A drink and a fight and a bit of a fuck in the back alley by the brick wall and the underground parking lot…”

How long had it been since he’d called them? Months… years? No, it was years, he was fairly certain. He dug in his trouser pocket for the silver Master Watch and pulled it out, holding it close to inspect the time. His vision blurred, doubled, and he pulled it against the mirror. Yes, it’d been years since he’d seen his friends. He’d need to give them a call…

But where was his phone? Not in his pocket…

“Tricksy… string or nothing.." 

Not that it mattered, either. He’d find it in a moment. There was always the house phone, too. Or, no, this wasn’t his house, was it? Not exactly. Things were too clean. Too sterile. But it wasn’t the labs. 

Yet there was a syringe there… next to all that spilled white powder. What was it for?

He closed his eyes to think, running over memories of carnivals and street markets, tall grass and a bracelet of beads. She’d worn such a short skirt, that bird. The pack leader. Such a short skirt with nothing underneath. How’d she get away with that, anyway? How had she remembered him after the years of not talking? 

The blood was dripping onto his trousers and he paused to wipe his hand and arm over his bare chest and stomach, manufactured frown on his face. Sticky, that. Red and sticky, with just a bit of grit. Impure blood. Like crime scenes. 

The syringe was for…

Oh yes. For an experiment. He only needed to push it in. Needles weren’t scary. Not when you worked with them in a lab quite often. Nothing more than tugging on the skin here, a little pinprick there and – ah- push the stopper… 

The needle fell into the bloodied sink when he dropped it, rolling around before coming to a stop. It was a feeling of triumph. He’d done the task he’d set out to do. He almost hadn’t been able to, but he managed, and already a bit of clarity was coming back to him. He blinked at the mirror, suddenly hesitating. 

The sunset he’d painted was dripping. Boiling. It turned to fire. He shuddered, staring past it at his own face, chalk white. There was someone standing next to him. Black robes. Thin white collar. The cross.

He stepped back into the towel rack and froze. The cold metal touched those scars. Lifting a hand to comb through his hair, blood dripped to the crook of his elbow and onto his bare foot.  Fire. There was fire there. Soot-stained stone. The dig of that metal. The smell of burning skin. 

Hakuba choked on a gasp, staring into the eyes of that man. Two men in one. The turban threads swung loose in the breeze, but he wasn’t there. None of it was there. The locks were on the doors. Chair in the way. The sliding glass had furniture in front of it, too. He couldn’t move it. Bolted down? No. how could this be? Then the wire… the wire everywhere.

The web…

He was caught all over again; a scared little boy at only sixteen, face-to-face with that man who spoke of thieves as if they were only his lures. Men and women that he played with, propped on silver strings and made to dance for his supper. 

Red everywhere. The sky, the grass, the flames.The faces of children burning, screaming silent screams, weeping muffled into pillows. Bloodied sheets. Hands and feet so cold they burned with blood on concrete pathways. He watched them all as they tumbled down the steps, one after another until the blood flowed like a river over stone, carrying them to the tide beyond. 

It was hell. Everywhere around him was eternal purgatory, reaching toward outer darkness and a scream that he couldn’t manage from all that boiled in his gut. But there it was on the ceiling… those words he’d been searching for these years. The face of the man he was searching for. There, just barely out of reach… and if he could only just stretch a little further, deal with the pain a little longer, he could save them…

…

Whether it was the loss of blood from his untreated hand or the chemical cocktail that had him unconscious first was unclear, but he remained out cold until late the next morning. Even once awake, it felt like hours before he could drag himself from the floor to his knees. The bloody scene that greeted him left him ill, but he managed to make it to the bathroom before completely losing all composure. Yet, sick or not, and so much cleanup ahead of him, at least there was one small comfort: 

The experiment had been a success.

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White Knight Widow | Part One

[part 1 2]

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He touched the wall where the blood had been not hours earlier, but the gloves came back white as ever. The clean up crews were good at their job; this was no question at all. An entire crime scene picked up and photographed, documented, displaced, and reopened within a day of the body’s discovery. Incredible. Why, without the proper equipment, it would be nearly impossible to tell that there’d been a murder here at all.

Hakuba sighed. He’d had a chance to get all of his routine investigation in earlier, when things had been fresh. The victim’s blood hadn’t even finished drying on the pavement. Yet, even with paperwork properly filled and filed, here he was again, going over the scene in his mind. It had been a boy… no more than fourteen years old. Full-blooded Japanese. Hard-working father, devoted mother, one sister. Good grades, no trouble at school, president of the chess club of all things. Brilliant, his homeroom teacher had said on the phone earlier. Simply brilliant.

So why had he gotten involved in all of this drug nonsense? It didn’t add up, just like so much of the rest… 

The young detective recalled the boy’s body, lying crooked against the wall. Not shot like one might expect in gang territory, no… but strangled with the chains one might find on a big dog with a choke collar. Not that they’d found the chains, but the welts and broken skin had left a very distinctive pattern. Pinched, torn, bruised- delicate veins beneath the surface burst from the strain. But that had only been the final method. Oh, no, this boy had certainly been tortured before death.

Head beaten bloody – certainly while he was still alive, which is where the blood on the brick walls had come from. Arm broken, twisted around his back, and every finger on that hand fractured at the second knuckle. Recalling the image was a simple matter, but putting the pieces together, that was the chal-

“Hm?”

Vibration at his thigh pulled him from his thoughts, and Hakuba immediately answered the call, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Detective Hakuba speaking. Do we have the results yet?”

“Results? Darling, it was all normal as usual.”

English? Hakuba paused again, taking a moment to put a name and face to the voice before he sighed. “Mum. I’m investigating a case; can I call you back?”

“You’re always on a case, dear." The woman on the other end laughed dismissively. "Not to worry. I just have a couple of quick questions for you to answer before I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Really, Mum. I’m expecting a call." 

"I’m just asking about Christmas, James. Or, sorry, Saguru now, isn’t it?”

He sighed, and took a step back to that wall to lean against where the blood splatter had been, shoving his free hand into his coat pocket to save the warmth for when he’d inevitably have to switch hands during the ‘quick call.’ “Mum, we’ve been over this.”

“Yes, but you keep saying no.”

“That’s my answer.”

“But they hardly celebrate it there, dear! That’s not Christmas at all!”

“I don’t have school off, nor work. I can’t just… nip off on holiday any time I like, Mum, honestly…" 

"But you haven’t been home in months! And we were to go to Paris this year, since your trip was canceled.”

Although he couldn’t see it, Hakuba knew that she was pouting on the other end, which made him roll his eyes, expression dry.

“I’d love to go, really, I would. But I’m not leaving Japan until I’ve gotten this case wrapped up. That’s my final word.”

“You’re not a part of the force, love. Let them handle it.”

“They’re not, though, Mum. That’s exactly the point. I’ve been on this case since August and we’re still not getting anywhere.”

“That’s hardly your fault. You could sneak away just for a week, come right back refreshed and ready to tackle it head on!”

“No. Mum, you don’t understand. People are dying. Children are dying.”

“Children? What sort of case is this?”

“I’m really not at liberty to discuss it with you, Mum…”

“Oh, but you’ll tell your father, is that it?”

God… “Because he’s the Superintendent General, Mum. It has nothing to do with-”

“Is that why you won’t come? Come now, he can’t be more fun to be around than your own mother! How many times did he eat dinner with you this week?”

Hakuba sighed. “Once, Mum. That’s not the point.”

“Ah, you see? He takes you away from me-”

“That’s not what happened, Mum.”

“-and ignores you. I’m calling it Stockholm’s Syndrome. You’re to come home straight away back to London where you belong.”

The detective turned and pressed his forehead against the cold brick, closing his eyes. “Mum… really, I’ve an important call that I’m waiting for… could I call you back later?”

“You’ll never call! I know you.”

“No… clearly you don’t, as I always return your phone calls.” He paused. “Eventually.”

“Eventually. But, please, dear! It would mean so much to me to have you home for Christmas…”

“Not while this is going on. Today’s victim count made sixteen… that’s far, far too many… and the police aren’t even convinced that they’re connected…”

“Are they?”

“They have to be… teenage victims, 73% of them with clean records… ages thirteen to eighteen… dead with the same drug in their system…” Hakuba took his warm hand from his pocket to stroke his chin, pulled away from the wall to walk, pacing back and forth, where the body had been.

“Dear, you’re explaining the case to me now.”

“You’re a wonderful listener, Mum… and I know how you love mysteries…”

“Not since your father left, love.”

Hakuba sighed yet again, and shifted the phone to his other ear so he could dig into his trouser pocket for the pocket watch. “Twenty one hours, 32 minutes, 53 seconds, and-”

“What is this, then?”

“…nothing, Mum. Look, I really must go.”

“But Christmas! Please, dear. I don’t want to go to Paris alone with your grandmum. God, no.”

“Perhaps I’ll solve the case in the next week or so and then I’ll see about flights for Christmas, yes?”

“That would be lovely! And, if you stayed for New Year’s, we could-”

As she went on, Hakuba found his fingers curled tight around the silver pocket watch, clenching at its surface. He pulled the phone away from his ear and listened. The sounds around him were normal for an alleyway at night and yet… and yet something felt decidedly off. He glanced upward at the streetlamps above, bright under the thick cloud cover, and wet his bottom lip, anxious.

No, something had definitely changed only a moment ago. It was too quiet. Too empty. Industrial though this area was, there would have been some sort of interruption by now… particularly in this territory. Though the caution tape had been removed, no one could resist a crime scene for long; even a detective…

“Saguru? Are you even listening?”

“I’ll call you later. Love you, Mum.”

He hung up the phone and checked for any missed calls before turning his attention back to the surrounding area. The circle he stood in was well-lit. The boy, who they’d estimated had died sometime between 05:00:00-07:40:00 that morning, would have been easily visible in the same lighting conditions. 

But what had he been doing all the way out here? What was the connection between him and the other victims? And how had they gotten-

His phone buzzed again. He checked first, then answered, voice more tired than he’d meant it to sound. “Detective Hakuba speaking.”

“We’ve got the results of the chemical compound…”

“Is it the Lidocaine? Mixed in with the Cocaine?” Hakuba quickly slipped the black book and pen from the inner suit jacket pocket, opening to a the page of notes that he’d gotten for the case. 

“Yes, that’s part of it. Traces of Marijuana as well.”

“But…”  Hakuba frowned, hesitating before writing that down. “That doesn’t even make sense. Are you absolutely certain?”

“That’s what the results say, detective. Did you want a copy of the full analysis?”

“Yes, please. Send it to my office email address.”

“Done.”

“…but that just doesn’t… Why would they…?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I just read the numbers.” He laughed. “You’ll be able to do a lot more with the information than I will.”

Hakuba nodded, though he knew that the lab assistant couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Kagawa. I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure thing, detective.”

“Oh- wait, one last thing.”

“Hm?”

“Did you happen to narrow down a strain of Marijuana?”

Kagawa took his turn to sigh. “It’s not…”

“Just tell me.”

“White Widow. Yes, just like the last one.”

Hakuba almost laughed. “Right.”

“They’re going to pull you off the case at this rate.”

“I’ll take that chance. Thanks. I’ve got to run.”

“As always. Night, detective.”

“Goodnight, Kagawa.”

He hung up, but kept the phone in his hand as he finished scribbling the last of his notes, then surveyed the area one last time. No… no, someone was definitely observing him. Did he dare run? Ridiculous. He was armed. He had his phone. His car was parked just a block away, top up and secured. Nothing to worry about.

Hakuba left the scene and stripped the gloves from his hands, finger by finger, using the flashlight app from his cell to search the vehicle inside and out. There was still the possibility of a car bomb… The thought came without pleasure, recalling that time in London two years previous. But he’d be fine. Nothing to worry… about.

There was a note under the windshield wiper blade. Small, just a scrap of paper. After taking a deep breath, he slipped it from its place and unfolded it, wondering. Could this have been the presence he’d felt earlier? He scanned it, reading over the text three times, wondering just what the message was, when it finally sunk in…

Nothing but an advertisement for an investment opportunity. A crummy commercial. He sighed, crumbling the paper before stuffing it in his ash tray, dragging himself back into the car once more.

Ridiculous to be so paranoid. Utter rubbish. It was well past time to go home, and he still had mountains of paperwork to finish before he could sleep. 

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(It’s too soon to say) Goodbye… Saguru-kun.

“Emi… I don’t have a lot of time. Find Kid. Tell him ‘Ballarat’ is the answer. Tell him that-” the strangled sound of a choking, muffled sob. “-that I love him. Don’t tell him that I love you. That I wanted to grow old with you. God, I… Emi… I… I’m so, so sorry. I’m not getting through this one. Tell Kid the box in… the safe is for you. And only you. I love you. I love you. I have to go. I can’t let them trace this.”

Click.

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“goodbye” (Dont go…)

“Camie-chan, I need you to listen very carefully… there’s something important that must be done and I can’t…  Well, I…”

A frustrated sigh. “I need you to get a code to Kaitou Kid. Do it however you have to, but make sure that he’s the only one who hears it. The code is ‘Ballarat’ – please do it as soon as you can, don’t tell anyone else. This is so, so important. Please. Thank you… thank you, if I get the chance to make it up to you I will, but if I don’t, I- ah.”

There was another pause, this one nothing but silence, and then a whispered, “They’re here…”  before the voice message ends.

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Roses

Such was the situation with a case so cut-and-dry. As Hakuba had only been there as an assisting detective and not fully in command, he had been reigned in and manhandled by the officer he was assigned to. That meant no asking personal questions of the culprit, of reassuring them, finding some way – any way – to assist them. No, once the case had been solved and the handcuffs put on, said murderer was dragged to the police car and that was that. At least for now. There was time, yet, before the trial, and he was certain that his services would be called for again for interrogation. But that was for the next morning. 

The problem for the evening was finding something to distract himself until it was time for scotch and, eventually, an attempt to sleep. Case files, perhaps? He had plenty to work with. 

Hakuba stepped into his bedroom and locked the door behind him as was customary when he was working (thusly, the bedroom was locked nearly all of the time), and flicked on the light switch. Then, it was to the corner fireplace where he checked on the large, wooden clock on the mantle, comparing the time with that of his pocket watch. The glass cover was pulled, swinging open to give access to those ever so delicate metal hands which he adjusted with care. Cover replaced, the detective offered it a familiar smile and nod before heading toward his desk…

…to find the roses.

Three, to be more specific.

“Been and gone already…" Hakuba touched the stem of each one, then the petals, pads of his fingers brushing over silky velvet tenderly. He set his briefcase aside, took up the flowers,  and enjoyed their fragrance as he stepped to the nightstand next to the bed, where a vase containing the other roses was stationed.  After taking a seat on the edge, he used his free hand to open the drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors which he used to cut each stem at an angle, collecting the pieces of discarded stem in his palm. Newly clipped roses joined the others and Hakuba returned to his desk. Stem pieces went in the rubbish bin underneath, scissors were wiped clean with one of the handkerchiefs from the detective’s pocket. They were then returned to the drawer. 

It was back to his briefcase and work desk then, bringing the case with him. He set it up on the side, where it would catch the most light from the lamp ,and smiled as he set to work, removing file folders and pages of stapled documents, preparing himself to begin another long evening of extensive reading.

Then he sighed, and cast a glance to the window. It had always struck him how much it looked like Wendy Darling’s. Actually, he had been certain that it was designed with that , specifically, in mind, mirroring his bedroom back in London. The same panes of glass set in wooden frame over a large window seat, catching the moonlight just right to spill over the area rug. And occasionally, he even had a visitor that was not entirely unlike that fictional Peter Pan. 

He stood and moved to the window, unlocking it with practiced hands, and peered out into the darkened, evening garden. Another sigh.

"One of these nights,” Hakuba said absently, hands running along the sill of the screenless window. “I’ll actually finish your riddle. It’s not so easy for me to write, you know; I’m not so much a writer as I am a reader… butI am working on it.” Then he chuckled. “Of course, with every rose and gift I have to up the ante and… well, this is going to end up a novel at this point. Or at the very least, a sonnet." 

He sat down with a huff on the window seat, pulling a knee up to his chest, arms wrapping around that leg to get comfortable as he watched the moon rising. 

…the mysterious figure didn’t actually hope to escape, did it?