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There’s a certain camaraderie between Jigen and Zenigata despite everything. Opposite sides of the law, fighting every step of the way to evade or capture, but both having a deep connection because of the daring thief that ultimately runs their lives.
Neither man is incapable of leaving. Technically.
There’s no real outside force keeping Zenigata on Lupin’s case. He could request a transfer anytime and his superiors would agree and whisper to each other later that “it’s about time he got his head clear of that vagrant. He’s become much too invested in one petty criminal.” It might be a blow to his pride, but what little is left of it after years of searching for one man and coming close time after time and never succeeding is scarred over to the point that the pity wouldn’t leave a scratch.
Jigen is an expert sharpshooter. He could probably accomplish enough heists on his own to obtain a comfortable fortune to live the rest of his life on in a few years of work and be done with the running. He could be free from constant interruption from Fujiko, from hair-brained schemes that seem to bear fruit once in a blue moon, from sitting next to Lupin in the car day after day, knowing nothing will change.
Yet neither of them is likely to do anything about the doomed spiral of their life paths. Seemingly endless potential for peace, or glory, or whatever, but no motivation to take the life preserver.
Jigen and Zenigata are both tied up by a red string that leads from each of them to a man that doesn’t hold the other end. They’re far from the only people who have fallen for Lupin over the years- Lupin manages to woo a surprising amount of women through his various escapades, and both Fujiko and Goemon love him in their own ways- but Zenigata and Jigen are probably the only ones to have glimpsed behind the mask and still desperately, annoyingly, long for the thief.
It truly is more of an annoyance to both men at this point. They’ve dealt with Lupin and their damned affection for him for years, commiserating over drinks too many times to count. It’s a fact of life. Jigen Daisuke and Zenigata Koichi are both hopelessly, heartrendingly in love with Arsene Lupin the third, and there’s no way that Lupin could return their feelings.
That isn’t to say that Lupin doesn’t care for either man, far from it. Jigen and Zenigata are both vital constants. Anchors in the storm that he has cultivated to be his life. Fujiko and Goemon share similar places in Lupin’s heart. He can be sure that they will return somehow. Fujiko will betray him and Goemon will need his space, but ultimately they are his as much as he is theirs.
He will never reciprocate the kind of desire either Jigen or Zenigata feels, though. It’s not something he’s capable of.
He is capable of affection, of passion, of desire, but the kind of bone-deep, consuming love is something that he will never understand. He can see sometimes, in the way his partner and pursuer look at him, that there’s something there, but he doesn’t get it.
In their many nights together, sharing stories and grievances, each man has said something along those lines again and again.
“I’m just not sure if he even notices. I don’t think I’d want him to, but I almost wish sometimes.”
or
“Damn fool. It’s like he knows everything that’s in your head and just sidesteps it to avoid the drama”
Causing the other party to snort and raise their glass saluting in resentment of their own feelings.
They’ve fallen into bed once or twice on nights like those. It’s unquestionably nothing meaningful, but it’s like a balm to be intimate with someone who will understand why there’s no way that they’re thinking of you, why it’s impossible to let go.
They’ve also both slept with Lupin more than once. It feels like an inevitably if you’re around the man enough and even remotely interested in sex, but it’s similar to the detached, desperate clinging to intimacy that they experience in each other’s arms, because there’s no way to let go with a man they love more than life itself that barely fumbles his way through holding their hearts in his deft hands, when he’ll even acknowledge he has them.
Once, after a night of drinking, they had a failed threesome that ended when Jigen met Zenigata’s eyes after they both managed to tear their eyes away from an oblivious Lupin and they were laughing so hard Lupin left in a hissy fit.
Sometimes, when Lupin pulls off some dazzling trick or death-defying feat, there’s nothing to do but place a hand on the other’s shoulder to let them know they’re not alone, not the only person blindly trailing after him.
It always seems to shock the rest of the crew when something comes up and Jigen and Zenigata are able to work in lockstep in the way that only comes when two people know each other intimately. There’s no love between them, but some, tragic form of metamours, maybe.
It's a daily tragedy. It’s a heart hanging on by a thread stuck in its place inside a chest by pure willpower. It’s when there’s nothing left to do but mourn what could have been without this one man, and immediately discarding those thoughts because, despite everything, neither man would ever choose anything else. It’s a job, a life, an entire self, tied up in a man that is captivating because and despite how brightly he shines toward the world.
It’s a shared look when Lupin flirts with some new beauty. It’s the sound of tumblers of high-class alcohol hitting each other in resigned cheers to their shared misery.
Neither of them can see a future where they don’t follow them to one of their untimely deaths because what else could happen. They both know they’re going to keep following Lupin, and he doesn’t know how to stop if he even wanted to.