As Kazawa, now dressed in his chosen disguise, sprinted full-speed toward the Beika Grand Hotel, another short figure was also running in the same direction.
The young detective's brain was operating at full throttle, eyes locked onto the brightly lit hotel in the night. He grinned with confidence.
"That's right, it's here! Facing this direction, the only place where you can see the Beika Museum... is the rooftop of the Beika Grand Hotel!"
Reaching the top floor, Conan placed the prepped fireworks down and stood on the windswept rooftop, looking toward the Beika Museum, now caught in the beam of a police helicopter's searchlight.
He glanced at the time, picked up a call from Professor Agasa, and listened for intel about the elusive Phantom Thief 1412 while awaiting his arrival.
"There was a young novelist," Agasa began—but stopped himself just short of revealing that it was Conan's father, Yusaku Kudo, who once gave the thief his nickname. "He was intrigued by the elusive 1412, who's managed to toy with police from all over the world. So he simplified the code '1412' and started calling him 'KID.'"
"KID?"
"That's right. Phantom Thief 1412, also known as—"
Before Agasa could finish his sentence, Conan's eyes widened. He turned around.
Under a crescent moon, a figure in a white cloak leapt from the air.
"—'Kaitou Kid!'"
Kid looked down at the boy standing on the edge of the rooftop and smiled with interest.
——
"If the Phantom Thief is a master artist who uses technique to steal his prize...
Then the detective is no more than a nitpicking critic who chases after him!"
After putting on a voice mimicry performance and luring the police away, surrounded by helicopters and law enforcement, Kid delivered his signature line with flair. One hand pulled open his glider, and from his other sleeve, a flash bomb slipped out.
As he grabbed the edge of his cloak, ready to quickly disguise himself and blend in with the police—
"—I agree."
A clear voice brushed past his ear. Kid jolted and rolled sharply to the side. The falling flash bomb was intercepted in midair by a red blur, which quickly whisked it away, preventing the flash from going off.
"Who?!" Inspector Nakamori, who had already raised his arm to shield his eyes, was startled by the unexpected voice and looked toward its source.
A figure appeared to have climbed up the outer wall. With a front flip, he landed at the very spot Kid had just vacated.
"—Quite the lively scene," the newcomer commented coolly. Despite his disrupted plan, Kid didn't panic. He tilted his head and stared with intrigue at the newcomer.
The man lifted his arm, and the red blur that had just stolen away the flash bomb unfurled into a long red scarf, which he wrapped around his neck. The twin tails of the scarf fluttered in the helicopter's backdraft like dancing flames.
"Who's this weirdo now?!" Nakamori barked into his radio. "Didn't I tell you to keep an eye out? Why didn't you notice someone climbing up the outer wall?!"
Because Conan's presence-cloaking aura really is that effective, Kazawa thought to himself with a smile.
Conan stepped back in shock, glancing from left to right.
On one side stood Kid in pure white, black hair flowing under his top hat, single lens glinting, cloak flapping in the wind. On the other side was this dark-clad stranger, with wild white hair, an eyepatch covering his eyes, and a red scarf dancing in the wind.
They looked like mirror opposites.
From the lower half of the newcomer's face—smooth and youthful like Kid's—it was clear he too was quite young. In his hand was a red-edged card, but due to the grip, Conan couldn't see the front.
A red card?
Conan's nerves tensed. If this were an anime, there'd definitely be a shing of light shooting dramatically across the background.
"'Phantom Thief of Hearts'?" he blurted out the name that sprang to mind.
The man had been fixated on Kid as though nothing else in the world existed, but upon hearing the name, he turned slightly toward Conan.
He didn't deny the title. With a smile: "You may call me... 'Joker,' little detective."
Then he turned back to Kid, continuing to ignore the surrounding police entirely.
"'Phantom Thief of Hearts'… ah, so it's you." Kid smirked. "You're that new rising star, huh. My little copycat."
Kazawa instantly picked up on the subtext.
Kid was saying his prediction letters were imitations, and the logo of the Phantom Thieves bore suspicious similarities to the simple sketches Kid liked to leave—bordering on plagiarism and intellectual theft.
"That's harsh, Mr. Kid," Kazawa shrugged innocently. It's not my fault P5 was like this! "Since you've heard of me, then surely you know what it is I steal?"
Kid smiled knowingly and folded his arms, speaking casually despite the surrounding police: "A righteous thief who hunts evil and judges the wicked—stealing hearts, in other words."
Kazawa snapped his fingers. "Correct."
"Looks like this copycat's target tonight... is me."
Inspector Nakamori clenched his fists, seething as he watched the two thieves completely ignore the heavily armed police. He shouted, "What are you all waiting for?! Get them! Take both those guys down!"
Snapped out of their daze, the officers of the Second Division sprang into action, splitting into two groups and charging toward each phantom thief.
Unfortunately, neither paid them any mind.
"Care for a contest?" Kazawa raised the flash bomb he'd snatched from Kid. "Let's see which artist makes it out, and who secures their prize."
For an old-school phantom thief like Kid, who responded to public challenges in newspapers, how could he resist one delivered face-to-face?
"Deal. I guess critics aren't entirely useless after all," Kid said, pulling out another flash bomb. "After all, an artist's work must be judged."
"Cover your eyes!" Nakamori barked. "Don't let them escape using gliders!"
Pop!Pop!
Two simultaneous flashes of light burst forth.
Conan, who had wrestled with himself internally before finally deciding to aim his watch at Kid, had just raised his hand—only to be blinded by the dual flashes from both sides. He staggered back, shielding his eyes.
When everyone recovered and lowered their hands, the rooftop was empty. Both Kid and the newcomer Joker had vanished.
"They're gone!" Nakamori shouted into his radio. "I told you to keep an eye from the air! What the hell were you watching?! Track them with radar!"
"Uh, sir…" the helicopter pilot responded weakly. "Aside from our four police helicopters, there are no other flying objects in the air."
Nakamori took a few steps forward and spotted a piece of paper taped to the ground, adorned with a rose—a new notice from Kid, declaring he'd next target the Queen Elizabeth cruise ship to take the real "Black Star."
"Damn it!" he yelled, smashing his radio in rage. "Search the hotel!"
Hidden among the departing police officers, Kid—now in disguise—adjusted his police cap and slipped quietly into the stairwell.
Kaito Kuroba descended quickly, wiping sweat from his brow.
Whew. He'd thought the plan had gone sideways, that he'd have to take to the skies and engage in a full-on air battle with the helicopters.
Thankfully, that surprise "colleague" who popped up behind him turned out to be another attention-seeker. After snatching the flash bomb, he'd just stood there posing and bantering, buying Kid enough time to escape as originally planned.
Thinking about that "Joker," Kaito clicked his tongue.
Sure, he had gripes about the copycat thing—but the fact someone was imitating his methods and bringing back the flair of old-school phantom thievery… didn't that mean "Kaitou Kid" was still respected in the field?
He couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit proud.
He wasn't sure how that Joker guy managed to change people's "hearts," and judging by his size, he didn't seem much older than himself.
No big deal. Kid had been evading police for a long time—what's one more rival on his tail?
With confidence, Kaito patted his police uniform, getting ready to change into his next outfit and leave the hotel in style.
Then his hand touched something stiff in his breast pocket.
"Hm?" He stopped by the emergency exit and pulled it out.
It was a red card. On the back was a logo: a top hat with flame-shaped eyepieces—Joker's emblem. It was the same one Kazawa had held earlier.
A bad feeling hit him. He flipped the card over.
There were no judgmental phrases like Joker usually wrote—just one line of Roman letters and a symbol.
"Kuroba?"
That was the Romanized spelling of Kuroba—his last name.
Kaito Kuroba: "?!"