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The boy holds the revolver with a determined steadiness. In any other circumstances, Heiji might’ve taken a moment to compliment the steel in his eyes; He’s seen a lot of people point a lot of guns, and it’s rare to not be shaking after a bullet’s already been fired.
It’s not exactly the time to comment on something like that, though, and Heiji is a little too annoyed to muster up praise, anyway. “Would you put that thing down? You’re only making things worse for yourself.”
“What does it matter?” The barrel stays pointed, infuriatingly, at Heiji. “I heard you tell someone to fetch the police. They’ll be here soon, won’t they? And they won’t see any difference, whether there’s one body or two-”
“I’m not the enemy here,” Heiji snaps. Maybe it’s unwise to cut off someone with a gun pointed at him, but he’s more aggravated than afraid. He can tell he isn’t going to shoot him, anyway, and this charade is wasting the little time they have. “I’m going to help you. If you would put down the damned gun and let me explain, it would make that a lot easier.”
The boy doesn’t blink, and he doesn’t lower the revolver. But slowly, his finger leaves the trigger, and Heiji exhales his relief.
In the same moment, the police burst around the corner—and in moments, they have the stranger detained.
#
If he was obstinate before, Heiji’s client is positively fuming at him now that they’re separated by prison bars.
(Maybe it’s a bit early to call him a client, but Heiji likes to think it’s only a matter of time. A lack of faith has never exactly served him in matters like these.)
“What are you doing here?” The question is vitriolic, practically spat at him as Heiji approaches. He supposes it’s warranted, considering this man only knows him as the one who got him here in the first place.
He reaches a hand through the bars, hoping to get on slightly better footing. “I was going to introduce myself before we were interrupted. I’m Heiji Hattori, a defense attorney.”
“You’re not supposed to reach into the cell. This crazed killer might tear your hand off.” He glares down at Heiji’s hand like that’s exactly what he’d like to do.
Sulking, then. Heiji withdraws his hand. “I know you’re not a killer, you know. Despite the circumstances we met under.”
“Circumstances?” His laugh comes out with a bite. “You saw me standing over a dead body with a gun in my hand.”
“I didn’t see you shoot him.”
“You didn’t need to. You called the police—you’re the reason I’m here, and you’re going to act like you actually believe I’m innocent?”
Heiji sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. He’s under a lot of stress, Heiji knows, so he does his absolute best not to let his own voice rise in response. “I heard a scream and a gunshot in the middle of the street. Anybody would get the police. But it doesn’t mean I think you’re the culprit.” He opens his eyes with a newfound focus. “I know enough about you to know you’re not a killer. I’m very well acquainted with your reputation, Shinichi Kudo.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Shinichi says, and his tone makes it quite clear that he has no such wish.
Heiji does his best to push through. “Ever since I arrived in Great Britain, I had hoped we’d meet—under better circumstances, of course. You might not know this, but we share an alma mater.”
“I’m not a complete idiot. You’re wearing your university uniform.” Shinichi turns to lean a shoulder onto the bars. “You’re a law student, I assume. Another person sent overseas for this damnable cultural exchange. And you think you’re being a good Samaritan by helping out a doomed classmate, which is why you’re hiding that paperwork for me to sign underneath your arm, right?”
Heiji reveals the defense forms. “You live up to your reputation, then. I’ve been told there’s no use keeping secrets from someone like you."
He must be used to it, because Shinichi doesn’t so much as blink at the praise. “I’m not signing any of that.”
Things could never be easy, could they? “I don’t see what you have to lose. I may not be especially experienced-”
“It’s not about what I have to lose,” he says, “and it’s not about your experience. I’m not going to give you a case you can’t win. Someone has to salvage the school’s reputation in this country if I’m going to ruin it like this, anyway. If all that’s left is some upstart attorney, then it’d be cruel for me to ruin your record.”
“What makes you think I can’t win?”
Shinichi’s head tilts like he’s trying to find an angle at which Heiji doesn’t look like a fool. “I wish you would stop playing coy. You can’t possibly believe that I’m innocent, regardless of whatever reputation you think I have.”
“You told the police you were framed.”
“Just like any criminal would. For God’s sake, I pointed the murder weapon at you.”
“You know, most murder suspects don’t argue for their own guilt quite so vehemently.”
Shinichi’s hands tighten around the bars. “I told you, I’m not an idiot. It doesn’t matter what the truth is. A man is dead, and they caught someone holding the smoking gun. They have a culprit who nobody in the country will miss, and that makes an easy solution to a messy crime scene. I’ll be found guilty because it’s convenient.”
The expression on Shinichi’s face is as steely as when he had a gun in his hand, until Heiji’s fingers tap against his forehead and it breaks into bewilderment. Heiji’s hand mimes the way Shinichi grasped the revolver, fingers forming the barrel.
“You held the gun like this. It was admirable that you could look so confident, when it was clear that you’d never held one before. I mean, if you really wanted me to be worried, you could’ve cocked the hammer before threatening me with it. But your thumb never even came close to doing so—like you didn’t even realize it was necessary.”
He raises his fingers like a smoking gun. “You didn’t shoot that man. I know it, and I know I can prove it.”
“… Really, is this a joke to you? There’s no way you can be that confident because of something so minor.”
Heiji shrugs. “You don’t have the eyes of a killer,” he says, as he holds out the defense paperwork. “Well, even Shinichi Kudo has blind spots, so I’ll blame your previous statements on an ignorance of law. But it’s too early to give up hope now. And if you aren’t capable of having it for yourself—that’s what a defense attorney is for.”
Shinichi sighs, and some of his obstinance seems to shudder out alongside his breath. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re out of options. Now, I need your signature if I’m going to be acting as your defense.”
Shinichi eyes him carefully, silence stretching between them until he finally snatches the papers from Heiji’s hands.
#
Heiji knows that the Shinichi he met wasn’t exactly in perfect form. At the crime scene and behind bars, he had behaved like a skittish cat, hissing at anything that got too close—Heiji was only just able to soothe him enough that his hand wasn’t treated like the enemy. So it seems just slightly unfair that he’s been able to pull himself together into a picture perfect defendant in the few hours between now and their last meeting.
“You look terrible,” Shinichi says as soon as he sees him, so Heiji supposes that doesn’t go both ways. “Did you even sleep last night?”
“I’m surprised you did,” Heiji mumbles. Seriously, looking at him is surreal. Beyond even looking so calm—when did Shinichi have time to do his hair in that prison cell? “I needed to get my evidence together.”
“They keep attorneys on a rough schedule, don’t they?” Shinichi eyes the stack of paperwork for a moment, before he reaches into his breast pocket. “Since one of the guards was kind enough to give me some parchment and ink last night, I have something to give you.” He holds out an envelope. “I was hoping you could post it for me, if the trial doesn’t go as planned.”
Heiji takes it with a tentative hand. The envelope is thick and heavy with parchment—so he supposes Shinichi didn’t do much sleeping last night, after all. “If you had time for something like this, you should’ve spent it working on your defense. There’s no need to act so fatalistic.”
Shinichi presses it further into his hand. “I know that part of your job is to keep my spirits up by saying things like that, but I hope you can indulge this. I’m just trying to be pragmatic.”
“... I’ll hold onto it for you, then. You can have it back after the trial.”
“Thank you.” The words are soft, laced with relief. Heiji wonders how much it takes for someone like the school legend Shinichi Kudo to sound so small.
#
In his few months in the British Empire, Heiji has gotten used to this feeling: The sense that the prosecution and jury were out to make him miserable, not in a search for justice but instead due to some kind of personal vendetta against him. What he wasn’t used to was getting that exact same sense from his client, who has spent the entirety of the trial staring at Heiji with unending calculation. Each time he catches Shinichi’s eyes has caused Heiji to stumble over his words, but he stays eerily quiet even beside him in the bench. It only adds to the impending kind of doom that every piece of testimony gives Heiji.
It’s an uncharacteristic show of mercy when the judge calls a brief recess. Of course, that only results in Heiji holing up on one of the benches in the lobby and sorting through his files over his knees while he tries to get his thoughts together in the next fifteen minutes.
His client takes the seat beside him. “I have to admit,” he says, “I had no idea what to expect from you. Considering you the only defense I could get, I wasn’t actually hoping you’d be very good at it.”
Heiji hums his acknowledgment of the insult, refusing to remove his eyes from the paper.
“But you’ve exceeded my expectations in every way. You must be quite gifted, to even keep the trial going this long.” Heiji hears his head tip against the back of the bench. “I’ll admit I don’t know enough about this country’s legal system. But if there’s any way for me to end the trial now and save some of your reputation, I’d like to do you the courtesy of taking advantage.”
“If all you’re going to do is talk nonsense, you should save your breath. I need to focus right now.”
“You’re really still trying to win this, aren’t you? Even with half the jury against me.”
“I’ve dealt with worse than half,” Heiji mumbles, turning the page in his notes. “The trial isn’t over until there’s a verdict. Have a little faith.” Yes, Heiji might have only made it this far in the trial by the skin of his teeth, but that’s nothing new for him. There’s always been a way out before.
“... And you’re still not going to question me? The prosecution knows I was holding the gun; The jury isn’t going to forget it. And you’re not even going to question why I would have done so, if I’m actually innocent?”
“You said on the stand that you picked it up in shock when you came across the body. I have no reason to believe that you’d lie.”
There’s a moment of blessed silence, before Shinichi speaks again. “Let me see that.”
“The case files?” Heiji finally looks up and begrudgingly hands his paperwork over to Shinichi’s outstretched hands. “Is there something you want to check?"
“Your pen, too.” That gives Heiji a bit more pause, and Shinichi rolls his eyes at his hesitation. “Now, please. The recess will be over soon.”
Heiji hands it over and watches as Shinichi flips one of the pages and begins to write on the back. “What are you-”
“I’ve been blessed with a reliable memory,” Shinichi says, as he writes with abandon. “If you’re going to show me so much foolish faith, I hope you can trust me when I tell you that this is accurate. This is every detail of the scene, before and after I discovered the body. It might not be of much use, but… it’s the only thing I can do for you.”
His hand moves quickly, and Heiji reads along as he writes in sloppy shorthand, switching between Japanese and English characters in whichever pattern makes writing most convenient. “You’re… Very thorough,” he mutters. He keeps better notes than the police have, certainly; He even draws a few diagrams.
This time, it’s Shinichi humming instead of giving a reply. His eyes are as steely as when they first met, like the paper is his newfound enemy.
As Heiji watches him, all the dread that built up in the courtroom disappears. In fact, he’s sure he’ll be able to turn the case around just like he promised.
#
The moment they step out of the courthouse, Heiji thrusts the letter back into Shinichi’s chest. “I told you I’d just be returning it,” he says, voice smug.
“It’s amazing how much class you can lose the moment you leave the courtroom,” Shinichi sighs as he takes back the letter. “Well, thank you. I suppose I’m in your debt.”
It’s extremely hard for Heiji not to grin like an idiot at a time like this. “I’ll send you the invoice for my representation soon,” he jokes, while his eyes catch just how tightly Shinichi holds that letter against himself. “What was the letter for, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
It’s as if Shinichi wasn’t aware of his own grip, because as soon as it’s mentioned he lets his hand loosen and tucks the letter back inside his breast pocket. “An ‘I told you so,’ mostly,” he says. “I’ve been overseas for two years now—I’ve gotten sick of it, really. But every time I write to complain, my family only talks about what a tremendous opportunity I've been given. So it felt necessary to explain just how that tremendous opportunity got me… Well. I suppose there’s no need to send such a gruesome letter now.”
His hand stays hovering over that pocket for just a moment longer. “I’m grateful to have met you, at least. It’s nice to see something that reminds me of home.”
“If you’ve gotten so sick of studying literature,” Heiji starts—and he knows already that it’s not his place to say another word, but he can’t stop himself now—“I may have another opportunity for you.”
Heiji expects to be called out for overstepping, but Shinichi only looks back with curiosity. Unwilling to let that attention go to waste, Heiji fumbles through his files to find the notes that Shinichi made.
“You have quite an eye for detail; It's the reason why I was finally able to put the case together. And I’ve been needing a judicial assistant for a while now.”
“Judicial assistant? With absolutely no experience?” Shinichi laughs. “You really are insane.”
“It’s just an option.” Heiji shrugs and tucks his notes back underneath his arm. “Regardless—it was a pleasure to work with you, Shinichi Kudo. Until next time.”
Shinichi eyes him carefully, the silence stretching between them until he offers his hand. "Until next time," he repeats. It's the first time Shinichi has sounded hopeful since they met.
Heiji gets the feeling, as he receives that awaited handshake, that next time will be sooner than he realizes.