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It came as a surprise to Barok to see the Nipponese lawyer leaving the courthouse that morning. His license to practice law in Britain had been suspended for three months now, so he must have been there to watch a trial.
He didn’t see Barok, or if he did, he successfully pretended not to.
Barok frowned after him. The lawyer’s obsession with summation examinations meant he’d been forced to watch him strutting in front of the jury enough times that the image was burned into his memory. While his clothes hadn’t been quite as close-fitting as Barok’s, they were significantly looser now.
He caught a glimpse of the man’s face, and his frown deepened. He was never so gaunt when they faced each other in court.
Was he getting enough to eat? He and his judicial assistant seemed to be tight on funds even before his suspension. Moreover, the stipend paid to him as a student might have been suspended along with his license. While it was true that he lived with Herlock Sholmes and therefore was not entirely dependent on his own means, that buffoon gave the impression of being perpetually in danger of missing rent payments.
And a self-sacrificing gesture like skipping meals to be less of a drain on their resources was the sort of thing Barok could see the young lawyer doing.
Whether or not he was eating properly was certainly not Barok’s business, and he had no reason to care. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but think the suspension was somewhat unwarranted. Infuriating though that accursed Nipponese man might be, he had tried to stop the faulty verdict in McGilded’s trial. And Barok also shared some of the blame for failing to secure the omnibus and prevent the evidence tampering.
Brow furrowed, he stared after the departing lawyer until he was out of sight.
#
“Runo! A package arrived for you!”
Confused, Ryunosuke went downstairs in response to Iris’s shout. “Did you say a package?”
A letter, he could have seen, but someone sending him a package was completely unexpected. But sure enough, there was a small package sitting outside the door of 221B Baker Street with “Ryunosuke Naruhodo” clearly written on the front.
He brought it inside and wasted no time in opening his mysterious gift.
To his complete astonishment, it was food.
All dried meat and packaged food that could be stored for a while without going bad, but still food. While Sholmes and Iris would never let Ryunosuke get away without eating dinner, he’d taken to skipping lunch every day and breakfast on occasion, lying about what he ate to keep them from catching on. He didn’t want them to worry about him or sacrifice anything for him when it was his own mistake that had led to his suspension.
Iris peeked into the box to see what it was. “Oh wow!” She gave him a teasing smile. “Someone must like you, Runo.”
“I’ll share some with you and Mr. Sholmes, of course,” he said.
“Oh no, don’t do that!” She clasped her hands in front of her with a bright smile. “It was sent to you, and I’m sure the person who sent it would be sad if you didn’t enjoy the whole thing yourself!”
Sad? Well, he wouldn’t want to make his mysterious benefactor sad. Maybe she had a point. This unexpected gift, while not exactly a feast, could be divided up for a small snack each day for a whole month if he stretched it out.
#
But the following afternoon, a similar package arrived, and Ryunosuke realized he might not need to ration his food so carefully after all.
On the third day, as if encouraged by the first two packages’ quick disappearance, his benefactor sent fresh bread and vegetables, carefully wrapped to protect them while they sat in front of the flat.
The fourth day’s was the same, this time with addition of two cookies for dessert.
After a more satisfying lunch than he’d had in months, Ryunosuke wrote a quick note.
Thank you for all the delicious meals!
He wished he had a name to address it to, but with his benefactor remaining anonymous, the best he could do was seal it in an envelope and place it in the same spot where the packages were always left, in the hopes that it would reach the correct person.
#
A letter was sitting inside the next box, on top of a wrapped selection of cheese. Ryunosuke’s heart leaped as he opened it, but to his disappointment, the message was extremely short and unsigned.
I trust this is enough to ensure you eat proper meals?
Ryunosuke wrote a letter assuring the mysterious benefactor that it was certainly enough, more than enough, and it wasn’t necessary to do so much for him.
The daily meals continued to come without pause.
#
Getting a new package each day became routine, and Ryunosuke privately admitted that he was feeling much healthier these days than he had before the gifts started arriving. That only increased his curiosity about who it might be, because it had to be someone who knew his health had been declining. For a while, he suspected Sholmes—since the great detective almost certainly noticed he was skipping meals despite his efforts to hide it—but enough observation convinced him that the lunches were coming from someone outside 221B Baker Street.
Which left him at a complete loss, because he couldn’t think of anyone in London who would think to take care of him like this. Gina didn’t have the money. Gregson…? No, not enough fish and chips. Definitely not Lord Stronghart.
Whoever was sending them, receiving the packages became a highlight of Ryunosuke’s day, not just because it was food, but for the fun of seeing what his benefactor chose to send. As time went on, the variety increased. Sometimes it was all healthy food. Sometimes it was unexpectedly fancy. Sometimes it included an array of desserts. He wrote a note back about his favorites after one especially good meal, and they began showing up with increased frequency.
Today, Ryunosuke opened up his daily lunch to find rice-covered lumps he immediately recognized as a clumsy attempt to make onigiri. The fact that his benefactor had tried to make him food from home shocked him so much that he spent five minutes staring at it before he noticed a letter was included.
Like the first one, the message was extremely short.
You will never speak of this to me.
Ryunosuke stared at the message. All right, they weren’t the greatest-looking onigiri, but it wasn’t such an awful attempt that his benefactor should be embarrassed by it. More importantly, the phrasing suggested Ryunosuke would be in a position to bring it up in conversation. As in, the benefactor was someone Ryunosuke knew and assumed he knew who they were.
After lunch—the onigiri really was badly made, but tasted more delicious than ever because of how the kind gesture warmed his heart—Ryunosuke wrote a new letter.
Thank you again for everything! Don’t be embarrassed, the onigiri was delicious! I’d like to thank you in person for all you’ve done for me, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are. Would you please tell me?
He sealed up the letter and left it in the same spot as before.
#
The first thing Ryunosuke noticed when he opened the next day’s package was that a letter was included, and this one was much thicker than the previous ones. Far from a simple note, this had multiple pages.
Slightly alarmed, he opened it. The first line appeared more jagged than usual, as though the sender had been angry while writing.
Surely, my learned friend, you are not telling me you have been eating food left on your doorstep without ascertaining its origin!
What followed was a three-page diatribe on the importance of protecting himself from poison and making sure he always knew where his food came from, with a lengthy paragraph about how he had made enemies for himself after the arrest of Ashley Graydon, far more statistics than he ever needed to know about how many people were poisoned each year, and several slights against his intelligence.
All he could do was stare at the letter in shock. Although it still wasn’t signed, the sender called him “my learned friend” twice and managed to work in the term “Nipponese” five times, and there was honestly only one person in London who would write like that.
He didn’t know where to begin. First, the thought of being poisoned never crossed his mind. He was just Ryunosuke Naruhodo; he didn’t have enemies. Second, if he did make a list of people who might poison him… well… not that he really thought he would, but honestly, would anyone in their right mind accept food from the Reaper?
“Runo, you’ve been staring at that letter for ten minutes now,” Iris said. “What’s wrong?”
“T-The one who’s been sending me this food is Lord van Zieks!”
She lifted her hands to her mouth in shock. “You didn’t know?”
He gaped at her. “Did you?”
“I saw Mr. Reaper leave the first package on our doorstep.” She frowned at him and folded her arms. “Runo, have you really been eating food without knowing who sent it to you?”
Oh no, not her too!
#
He honestly found it pretty hard to believe, so the next day, Ryunosuke decided to see for himself. While he usually spent his days studying law, looking for work, or trying to figure out a way to get his license back, today he positioned himself by the window and kept watch.
The timing of the packages varied—ugh, it made so much sense that the sender must have a variable schedule, like if he had to appear in court some days and not others—but that was fine. Ryunosuke would wait.
He half-expected this was all some big joke Iris was in on, but around 1 in the afternoon, a familiarly terrifying figure appeared at the corner, looming over everyone else on the street, cape billowing behind him, and stopped at 221B Baker Street to place a package in the usual spot.
It really was him?!
Van Zieks lifted his head—and their gazes met.
Ryunosuke yelped and ducked out of sight.
After a moment, a quiet knock came at the door.
Oh no… He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. If he was very quiet, maybe the Reaper would assume it had been a trick of the light and he hadn’t really seen a face at the window.
The knock came again, louder this time.
S-Surely van Zieks didn’t want to be witnessed standing in front of Herlock Sholmes’s residence, right? He’d go away soon.
Even sharper rapping at the door suggested otherwise.
“I’m not home!” Ryunosuke shouted.
The knocking stopped.
Was… was it his imagination, or… d-did the silence somehow feel… angrier than before?
Several seconds of such silence passed. Ryunosuke held his breath and carefully, very carefully, lifted his head to peek out the window.
And found himself staring straight at Barok van Zieks.
Ryunosuke yelled and fell backward away from the window.
“Just open the door,” an exasperated voice growled from the other side.
Embarrassed, nervous, and very confused, Ryunosuke obeyed.
The Reaper somehow looked even more intimidating framed by the doorway of 221B Baker Street than he did in the courtroom, and Ryunosuke reluctantly stepped back to let him inside. Van Zieks closed the door behind him and studied Ryunosuke the way he stared down witnesses in court, his gaze cold and piercing.
This still didn’t feel like reality. Why in the world would Barok van Zieks send him food?
Maybe it was a test to see if he would eat food sent in anonymous packages, and he’d failed it miserably. Or maybe it was meant to lull him into a false sense of security, and the next one would be poisoned after all. Or maybe it was that whole “sacrificial lamb” thing again and van Zieks was fattening him up ahead of the slaughter and—
“What in the world is going through your head, man?” van Zieks demanded. “The way your frantic gaze is darting about the room, one would think I was your executioner.”
“Oh! No! I definitely wasn’t thinking anything like that at all, Lord van Zieks!”
Van Zieks scowled. His gaze ran all the way down Ryunosuke’s body and then back up.
Heat rushed to Ryunosuke’s face. He wasn’t used to anyone looking at him quite like this, especially not someone as handsome as—wait, what, what was he thinking, where did that come from?
He squirmed under the Reaper’s gaze, even more embarrassed than before, and then two gloved hands grabbed his shoulders to hold him firmly in place.
“Stay still,” van Zieks ordered.
Ryunosuke went completely still, almost limp, like it was a survival instinct. His heart was racing, clearly the reaction of prey cornered by a predator, not—not anything else. His cheeks were hot, but only because he was being stared at so intently, and he only dwelled on how strong van Zieks’s hands felt to remind himself that it would be difficult to escape if he had to, of course.
Van Zieks turned him around, and Ryunosuke tried to stave off his sudden lightheadedness by telling himself how humiliating (and scary) it would be to faint in front of him.
“You look better,” the prosecutor said at last, turning him to face him once more. “You weren’t eating enough before.”
The accusation made Ryunosuke’s cheeks burn hotter. “I was eating,” he said defensively. “Just… not every meal.” His blush deepened. Panicked or not, he’d been very rude to the prosecutor, given the circumstances of this visit. He bowed. “T-Thank you again for all of the food.”
Van Zieks snorted. “From now on, I will mark the packages with my official seal. If the package does not have that seal and the sender is anonymous, pray restrain yourself from eating whatever is inside.”
Even though his legs were shaky, Ryunosuke found a huge smile spreading across his face. “You were really worried about me, weren’t you, Lord van Zieks?”
The prosecutor scowled.
This was… well, still very alarming, actually, but a warm feeling spread through him the more he considered what had happened. Van Zieks cared about his health, even if he tried to deny it.
“I’ll be careful from now on,” he said.
“You do have enemies, my learned friend,” van Zieks said after a moment. “Do you know any self-defense?”
Ryunosuke stared at him. “I… know some archery.”
From the deepening scowl on the other man’s face, that was not what he had in mind.
W-Well it wasn’t as though he ever had reason to think he’d need to know self-defense techniques. The prosecutor was just paranoid. Still, maybe he should ask Sholmes if he could teach him, or—
Oh no. A horrifying thought made Ryunosuke’s heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Van Zieks saw he wasn’t getting enough to eat and started personally sending him food. Van Zieks learned he ate the food without knowing who the sender was and devised a system to avoid that. Van Zieks learned he didn’t know self-defense, and…
No, no, no, no, no. No. Not with him. Van Zieks was huge, he’d break Ryunosuke if he fought him. Although if it was to teach him self-defense specifically, he might not attack him so much as just… hold him down… or push him up against the wall… or pin him against his own larger frame… and these things didn’t sound bad exactly, actually, they sounded like they might be quite enjoyable, especially when he remembered how his hands felt a moment ago—
“I will take my leave of you now, my learned friend,” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts, and Ryunosuke looked up.
“Yes! I mean, thank you again.” He bowed.
Van Zieks folded his arms. “These meals are merely a necessary measure to keep you healthy. Once you are able to practice law again, they will cease.”
“Yes! Of course!”
A necessary measure that included dessert and snacks and his favorite foods and oh dear god, Lord van Zieks had tried to make him homemade onigiri. Ryunosuke blushed, and then blushed further when it sunk in that the prosecutor seemed to believe without any doubt that he would get his license back.
Van Zieks opened the door, but paused. “One more thing, my learned friend.”
“Y-Yes?”
“You mutter your thoughts out loud when you’re nervous. Do try to get that under control.”
#
The next day, Ryunosuke’s lunch included a letter. The message was only a single line.
Your self-defense lessons begin tomorrow.