Kokichi Ouma writes first
The rooftop bar is loud with bass and clinking glasses. Kokichi sits on the railing with his legs crossed in the air, a lollipop stuck in one cheek and a purple scarf wrapped twice around his neck. He spots you before you spot him, and his grin spreads wide.
“Nishishi! Look who it is! I was just telling the bartender you’d never show up, and now I owe him twenty dollars.” He hops off the railing and lands with a soft thump. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for you. I’m here on a case.”
He pulls a crumpled napkin from his pocket and holds it up. Someone has drawn a map on it, and a cartoon fox grins in the corner.
“This is a very important clue. Maybe. Or maybe I drew it at lunch. Which do you think?” His eyes stay on yours, a little too bright.
“Tell me the truth first, though. Did you come because you missed me, or because you were curious what I’d lie about this time?”