Chapter Text
Three days left until Ryuunosuke comes back to London.
As much as it pains Kazuma though, he doesn’t have time to deal with the preparations. There is so much work to do around the prosecutor’s office, and while van Zieks is nothing but a capable attorney, he needs all the help he can get. Even Gina and Gorey drag themselves from point A to point B and push through tiredness and over hours, so as van Zieks’ assistant, it would be unbecoming of Kazuma to let them handle it all by themselves.
He wants to believe Iris and Holmes can manage just fine on their own, even if he wishes he had the time to ensure everything goes along smoothly for his best friend’s return.
A part of him does feel a tad… relieved? The word tastes like defeat, but he can’t really think of any other that would summarize all those emotions swirling around inside of him at the thought of Ryuunosuke coming back, shortly appeased when he was informed by a heavy pile of documents left on his desk that he didn’t really have the time to dwell on anything else.
So he gets up in the morning, gets ready and heads for the office, or the crime scene, or the courthouse, or wherever it is van Zieks needs him to be, and does his job. He doesn’t think about Ryuunosuke having an actual cot to sleep in on the ship that will bring him back to London, doesn’t wonder if he has the need of stealing food this time around, doesn’t let his mind consider anything other than what the Scotland Yard detectives present to him. He thinks of evidence, hypothesis, cheap coffee with Gina and nothing else. At least, until time runs out.
It is deplorable, laughable really, to admit he is nervous. He doesn’t remember the last time he was nervous. He isn’t— it’s not often that he finds himself growing restless over something he can’t control. Leading a life of planning, of pursuing a single, definitive objective can be the cause for such newfound sensations. He wants to see his friend, do not get him wrong, but Kazuma is not— was never the person Ryuunosuke thought he was. And the funny thing is, back then, during the Professor trial, he didn’t care. Honest to God, he couldn’t care less about what Ryuunosuke, Susato and Mikotoba thought about him. He was desperate, hungry, hurting, with a gaping wound on his chest that craved more blood, that demanded a sacrifice, and he was ready to take it no matter the cost.
That day when his memories returned, when his father’s face yanked them by force until they twisted and tangled until they were more than the loose threads he couldn’t quite grasp in his time as van Zieks’ masked apprentice, the sight of Ryuunosuke’s dark eyes made him draw in the first breath of his second life. He remembers feeling complete for the first time in so long, feeling at ease, safe. It didn’t last more than a second though, as blissful as it was, because that is how life works.
Then it all came back, the sleepless nights, the dedication, the obsession, the hatred, the sorrow. So he drew a line between them, despite Ryuunosuke’s hurt expression, and reminded himself what his purpose was.
“Is this why you were so insistent I should be present in this trial?” Ryuunosuke asked later on. “To see you like this?”
It hurt, Kazuma remembers. It hurt so bad, hearing the disappointment in his voice. It also hurt that he didn’t take his side, that he couldn’t possibly understand how Kazuma felt.
As he makes his way to the office, white suit dirty after tackling a particularly difficult thug —van Zieks doesn’t need to learn of this, of course—, he wonders; yes indeed, why did he want Ryuu to be there? Was it so he could bear witness to his triumph? So he could finally see who Kazuma really was all along?
Was it… so he could stop him?
Inexplicably, Ryuu was proud of him by the end of it. How ludicrous, how funny and sad . There was nothing to be celebrated about Kazuma’s actions, nothing worthy of praise. The truth came to light, as it often does with enough pain to fuel it, and Kazuma was left feeling like his heart had been carved out of his chest. But kind, naive Ryuunosuke was proud all the same.
Kazuma knocks on the heavy wooden door twice, but doesn’t wait for an answer and comes in. His boss sits behind his desk almost in complete darkness, quill in his grasp not stopping once, nor blue eyes ever coming up to watch Kazuma approach.
“Welcome back,” van Zieks muses, voice as unfriendly as ever.
With practiced ease, Kazuma gives him his report. He knows van Zieks appreciates a quick summary of pressing matters rather than a written record, but Kazuma hands him the documents either way as he talks. Predictably, the lord frowns, and the way he eyes the smudges of dirt on Kazuma’s clothes suggests he has a good idea as to how Kazuma got this information. Not that Kazuma bothered to hide it, but still. He’d rather skip the lectures about how upholders of the law should not partake in such methods and whatnot. Luckily, today van Zieks appears as tired as the rest of them, so he merely leans back in his chair with a deep sigh, gloved fingers coming up to the bridge of his nose. Kazuma would bet his right arm and come as far as saying his eyes are strained from all the work he does in poor lighting conditions. Kazuma kind of wishes he’d take more care of his vision, even if he isn’t one to talk, not really.
Van Zieks grunts as he swiftly reads Kazuma’s detailed report.
“Am I correct to assume the victim’s wife is still refusing to talk to you?”
Kazuma nods, crossing his arms.
“Gina has yet to get something worthwhile from her, so we haven’t made much progress in that regard.”
Van Zieks’ face looks more resigned than actually concerned, which means he is done for today. Kazuma can’t say he disagrees, so he doesn’t push the topic. The prosecutor lets the bunch of sheets plop on his desk, and the chair rattles over the floor as he comes to his feet.
“Good work. You are dismissed for today.”
Kazuma takes a step forward, hands firmly hidden behind his back.
“Actually, there is something I’d like to ask of you, my lord.”
Van Zieks quirks an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
Kazuma doesn’t like asking for favors, let alone from his boss of all people, but today it is a necessary evil, unlike that one time he woke up with a fever and sore throat and refused to go back home despite everyone telling him to. He thought he’d rather die than show Barok van Zieks any kind of weakness, even if the man himself gave him a cold glare as he barked at him to go get some rest. He didn’t, because fuck van Zieks. But Ryuunosuke is worth it, more than worth it, if Kazuma is to be completely honest. So when he got up today he decided he’d swallow his pride for once.
The boy forces the words up his throat despite feeling the way they drag their thorns all the way up.
“I was hoping you’d allow me to take tomorrow off.”
There is a little pause, barely noticeable to anyone else, but Kazuma picks up on it as easily as he does other things when it comes to van Zieks. Their relationship even a year after everything that came to pass is still fragile at best, despite how frustratingly well they worked together (courtesy of the little but well used time Kazuma spent as his protegée ), but there is no point denying it still feels like they dance around each other, walk on eggshells even now. Their wounds are too fresh still to pretend they never happened, after all.
Things are better now though, because van Zieks is going to therapy, and the results are plain for everyone to see. He is a doting uncle to Iris, who he showers in gifts and gentle looks that make Kazuma’s heart clench in his chest, less of an alcoholic —there is a long way to go in this one, but he’s getting there—, and overall… content with his life. Almost happy, but Kazuma wouldn’t dare to say that with certainty. He doesn’t talk about Klint, or at least not with Kazuma, and the boy honestly prefers it this way. They don’t talk about his father, nor about how Kazuma almost got him convicted to the gallows in his fit of blind rage. Gorey laments not being able to dissect him any time soon (she actually likes van Zieks, so this is a compliment of sorts), so he is evidently getting better.
They share drinks whenever they are too tired to overthink things or care about the boundaries that set them apart as boss and apprentice, but they don't really talk . It’s more like they sip wine in silence and wait for it to run out or either of them to fall asleep, whichever happens first. Then they go their separate ways and show up the next day for work as always.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Naruhodo is arriving in London come morning, is he not?”
Judging by the way he says it, it’s clear he is playing dumb, and Kazuma doesn't know why. He understands Ryuunosuke is a complicated subject for van Zieks, rightfully so, and although he sometimes skillfully avoids the memory of him, now it looks like he is just pretending he wasn’t in his thoughts. Kazuma doesn't see the point, since Iris must have let him know Ryuu was coming back.
Kazuma nods. He isn’t interested in playing van Zieks’ game, nor giving his attitude a second thought.
“I want to receive him at the pier.”
Kazuma watches as the cogs turn in van Zieks’ mind. Ryuu coming back is like opening Pandora’s box for both of them, like pulling at stitches that haven’t quite healed just yet, and if Kazuma feels it, the other man must too.
He waits, but van Zieks doesn’t meet his eye. He pretends to be busy putting his already pristine desk in order.
“But of course. Be sure to give him my regards.”
The night is rainy, and while it’s not different from any other one in this damn city, Kazuma finds himself suddenly sick of it. Summer is supposed to be around the corner, yet everything they get on this side of the world is a cloudy sky all year round and, if they are lucky, a few hours of pale, barely enjoyable sunlight. It’s on nights like these that he misses Japan.
When he gets home, kicking his boots off as soon as he closes the door behind himself, he lets out his biggest sigh yet. He splashes some water on his face, not sparing a glance to the mirror, and briefly considers taking a shower but quickly dismisses the thought. He’s probably not going to get much sleep today anyways so he might as well shower in the morning before heading out. He comes back to the entrance so he can bring his boots to their proper place by the feet of his bed.
After he is done changing, methodic motions his body has come to memorize after a year of excruciating routine, fueled by nothing other than figuring out the most efficient way to get ready so he can go to sleep as quickly as possible, he finally flops back onto the mattress, arm thrown over his eyes. He attentively listens for noise outside, for any sign of life on the streets, and is met with nothing other than the constant rattle of raindrops on the window. The incense he bought at the chinese market has long run out.
That day at the pier, when it was all over and they were saying their goodbyes, as the sun rose up from beneath the sea at Ryuunosuke’s back, Kazuma almost asked him not to go. He felt the words, heavy on his tongue, brushing his lips, but he managed to keep them in. It was a near thing, but he knew he’d only put Ryuunosuke in a difficult position.
Because he would have said yes, right? He wouldn’t have thought twice, just like he didn’t when Kazuma told him to come to Britain with him. But, well, Ryuunosuke isn’t the same man as before. As painful as that is for Kazuma to wrap his head around. It’s not like him to feel nostalgic, he sees no value in regretting the past instead of moving forward, but Ryuunosuke has always been a bit of an exception for him, he can’t keep denying that.
In Kazuma’s mind, Ryuunosuke needed his help back then. He accepted to take on his defense even though it could revoke his permission to study abroad, and he did it proudly, without a second thought, well aware he was jeopardizing his mission and, by extension, his real objective in the process. Yet Ryuunosuke’s uncertain fate and the danger he was in made Kazuma forget for a full second what he was supposed to do.
Even worse, Ryuunosuke didn’t allow him to fight for him, because he wanted to protect Kazuma in return too.
So yes, Kazuma made his decision right there in the courthouse, as Ryuunosuke deflated with tangible relief and Auchi lowered his head— that he wanted Ryuunosuke to stand by his side in his quest for destiny.
Even now, Kazuma can’t help but think it was a cruel joke that, as sunrise announced the beginning of a new day, Ryuunosuke was leaving.
That day, he was drunk. Kazuma didn’t mind the sluggishness, nor the way it made his head feel light, nor how everything seemed easier all of a sudden. He liked this as much as the next person did but, well. Downside of being drunk was that it rarely came alone— it was always accompanied by overthinking, baseless bravado, or simply nausea. Kazuma was a big fan of nausea, being the quickest one to deal with. Unfortunately, he was currently under the effects of the endless spiral that were too many what ifs and a maybe and a yeah that sounds like a good idea .
He leant over the counter, resting his chin on his hand. Each sip he took started to taste more and more like a do it that burnt his throat in a way that alcohol didn’t.
And, worst of all, that flavor pushed words to the tip of his tongue, words that he didn’t want to say.
Would you come to London with me?
Ryuunosuke was in the middle of one of his rants, yet the pleasant sound of his voice halted all together. Kazuma turned to him. His friend’s smile seemed to hang from his lips, a tad lazy and on its way to the floor, and his eyes went wide.
“What?”
It didn’t happen often, not at all, yet today either there was something in their drinks or the magnetic field around Ryuunosuke pulled with more force than ever, because the words made their way out of Kazuma’s mouth without his permission.
Kazuma swallowed, pulse racing against his temples. The stool beneath him felt a little too unstable for the first time in the night.
“I want you to come to London with me.”
It took Ryuunosuke five full seconds to react. It was as if he didn’t know whether Kazuma was kidding or not, the parade of emotions more than plain to see on his face; his brow furrowed, the snort of incredulity, the visual search for any potential audience to Kazuma’s joke. It even looked like the shock sobered him up.
“No way.”
But Kazuma was serious. He didn’t think he’d been as serious about anything in his life. His chest burned.
“Yeah.”
Ryuunosuke blinked once. Twice. He chuckled, but it rang hesitant still.
“What for? To watch you conquer the whole country?”
Yes , the answer was still yes, because Kazuma could do it , and he wanted Ryuu to see it.
Kazuma shrugged, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it was.
Oh, there it was— that baseless bravado.
“Yeah, why not?”
Ryuunosuke seemed to play with the idea for a moment, that wonderful mind of his at work, then his eyes came to Kazuma, and suddenly he found that yes, it was just that simple.
“Alright,” Ryuu said, bright and dazzling again. “Fuck it.”
Kazuma felt a smile slowly spreading on his lips.
“Fuck it.”
Ryuunosuke barked a laugh, raising his glass.
“Fuck it!”
It’s a tad cold. The sun hangs low in the sky, lethargic and clinging to sleep still, casting a warm and gentle glow across the bustling pier. Seagulls soar above, their cries blending with the distant sound of lapping waves against the wooden docks. Kazuma stands near the edge, among the waiting crowd, his heart racing like a wild stallion. He adjusts the collar of his jacket, his palms slightly damp with anticipation.
A year feels like an eternity, despite the letters. A year since Ryuunosuke left for his homeland to pursue his dreams. Kazuma managed to fill the time with work and various distractions, yet it somehow feels like today, a piece of his heart is coming back to him.
With Holmes and Iris busy with a case and Gina hard at work at the yard, he was entrusted to be the welcome committee on his own. The irony is not lost on him. He’s always been good at public speaking, not to mention Mikotoba and Susato are his family, yet as time ticks by, anxiety dances like a tempest inside him. He clutches the small bouquet of flowers he brought, his gloved fingers fidgeting with the delicate petals. Every sound, every approaching ship and figure, makes his heart leap in hopeful expectation.
A smudge of familiar pink at the corner of his vision draws his attention then.
On one of the steamships that just docked into the lively pier, Susato’s kimono brings Kazuma’s eyes to her, to her father to her right, and to a figure that a second later emerges from the rest of the passengers. The gentle wind carries Ryuunosuke’s black cape, making him hold onto his hat so it isn’t blown away to the waters below. He looks just like the day he left, yet changed. Those photos he’s been sending don’t do him justice. Kazuma's breath catches at the mere sight of him.
Ryuunosuke's gaze scans the pier, searching. And then, their eyes meet. Recognition sparks in those dark eyes, a brilliant smile forming on his lips as he descends from the ship.
Kazuma's heart hammers in his chest as Ryuunosuke —as the three of them draw closer, and suddenly the salty air of the coast clogs his throat until he can’t breathe.
Karuma is there, strapped to Ryuunosuke’s hip.
“Kazuma-sama!” Susato chirps, a joyful melody, carrying over the sounds of the pier, and his eyes are immediately drawn to her.
His sister hasn’t changed a thing, all elegant strength and beauty. Seeing her again after so long, her head held high, makes Kazuma’s chest puff out with pride. Besides, she guided Ryuunosuke when he could not. He’s immensely grateful to her.
A smile comes to his lips before he knows it. He tries to distract himself from the sudden need to bring her into his arms.
“These are for you,” he says instead, handing her the bouquet.
Her cheeks blush with carmin, delight all plain to see on her face, and her eyes even look a tad watery when she carefully accepts the flowers.
“Oh, you are so very kind.”
Professor Mikotoba observes the exchange with a smile of his own, and so Kazuma is forced to look away from Susato to properly greet her father. He shakes his hand with a firm hold, undeniably fond, but Kazuma isn’t sure what he feels about this man, not even after so much time alone to think about it. He graciously took him in, always treated him like yet another child of his own and supported him to pursue his studies. But he knew what happened to Kazuma’s father, the disgrace he died in, and never told him a word about it.
Kazuma is past the point of flaring, allconsuming resentment, but it still hurts. He can understand where Mikotoba was coming from, he really can, since a younger version of himself wouldn’t have been able to handle such news, and the professor was surely just hoping to protect him.
He doesn’t hug Mikotoba, doesn’t react to the heavy hand on his shoulder or the words the man has for him, and judging by the professor’s sad smile, he must have an idea as to why. But Kazuma bows, because no matter what he might feel stuck at the base of his throat, he is still indebted to him.
Once he steps back, Ryuunosuke comes into his field of vision. Kazuma wants to say he was about to forget he was even here, but he’d be lying. Ryuunosuke’s presence burns bright no matter where he goes, no matter whether he’s still there or not. His absence, Kazuma has found, fades into lukewarm embers where he once was, until it burns yet again, but like cold, frigid ice.
It might be Kazuma’s hyperactive imagination, but Ryuu looks a bit taller. Probably the way he doesn’t slouch anymore.
Ryuunosuke’s smile and candid eyes bring the sun back to him, the warmth and color necessary to live.
“Why did you leave me for last?” he asks, not sounding offended in the slightest.
Kazuma laughs, a truthful, genuine laugh that kicks the air out of his lungs, that makes his head feel lighter and his body bigger.
“Good things come for those who wait, my friend.”
Shaking his head, unable to conceal his high spirits either, Ryuunosuke’s arms wrap Kazuma into a tight embrace.
“Shut up.”
It’s not hard to bring himself to hug him back, to slide his hands over Ryuu’s middle. In fact, it’s the easiest thing he’s done in years. His best friend fits against his body like a puzzle piece, like his other half, just like he always has. The scent of Ryuunosuke's cologne fills Kazuma's senses, and he suddenly feels less tired, less conflicted, less— grand. For one tiny, blissful moment, he’s just himself.
Needless to say, everyone is beyond delighted to have them back. Iris latches onto Susato’s neck and doesn’t let go, even while trying to reach for Ryuunosuke too, her little arm waving for him to get closer so she can hug them both at the same time. Holmes crashes onto Mikotoba like a storm, boisterously laughing into his ear, clapping his back with too much force, and Kazuma has to look away because it feels like a moment he shouldn’t even be witnessing in the first place. Honesty and openness is not a good look on the great detective, makes him appear like an entirely different person altogether, like he might even be human.
Van Zieks gives his guests a heartfelt welcome, expressing how elated he is to have them back in London. He shows them the way to the garden, where his servants have already set a long table and the first course of the meal. Ryuunosuke’s eyes positively shine at seeing so much food at his disposal, while Susato graciously thanks the lord of the house for his hospitality.
Gina arrives later on, fashionably late as she puts it, doing her best not to look in van Zieks’ direction, who looks like he doesn’t care for her excuses.
They are well into dessert —strawberry and lime pastries that go splendidly well with the wine van Zieks chose for today—, when the man asks the guests about their plans for the rest of the week.
Susato nods excitedly.
“I’ve been meaning to visit some museums, perhaps alongside my father.”
Mikotoba cleans the corner of his lips with a napkin before speaking.
“Why yes, I want to drop by the university as well.”
Iris rushes to slide yet another slice of cake his way, much to the dismay of the butler behind Mikotoba. The poor man looks nervous that this little miss’ attention to detail might leave him out of a job. Kazuma hides his smile behind his cup.
“Runo mentioned he’d love to drop by the Prosecutor’s Office to watch you two work, Uncle Barey!”
Ryuunosuke coughs into his own drink, pink blooming beneath his cheeks. Van Zieks gives him a curious look, and Kazuma snorts.
“Aren’t you on vacation, Ryuunosuke?” he asks.
The other boy shrugs.
“I just don't want to waste a chance like this one.”
Van Zieks nods his thanks to a maid that pours him coffee. He takes the cup, his long fingers pale even in contrast to the white ceramic.
“Furthering one’s horizons is important, but so is to find rest whenever the opportunity strikes.”
Kazuma’s eyebrows arch.
“A sound piece of advice, although I don’t think you are one to speak, my lord.”
That spurs a chuckle out of everyone but van Zieks, and when his icy gaze comes to Kazuma, he pretends he doesn’t notice. The jab is not ill-spirited (not entirely, at the very least), but he knows his boss can’t handle getting teased. Not that it’s ever stopped Kazuma, but still.
The prosecutor clears his throat, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
“As I was trying to say,” he starts, not addressing anyone in particular. “Pray forgive the discourtesy, but I don’t believe you’ve been to any gentlemen’s club yet. Is my assumption correct?”
Ryuunosuke makes a face.
“Outside of murder investigations, no, we haven’t.”
Susato brings a finger to her chin, pensive.
“I believe you mean ‘not while in search of leisure’, Naruhodo-sama.”
Van Zieks looks down, seeking to hide the slight quirk to the corner of his lips.
“Well, it is my intention to extend to you all an invitation to one out in the countryside.”
Everyone looks excited, but to be frank, Kazuma doesn’t care much for gentlemen’s clubs. He doesn’t like the aristocratic flavor to them, nor that many suspicious businesses transpired within their walls more often than not. They are supposed to be places where men could relax, mix with their friends, play parlor games, share meals, and in some clubs even stay overnight, all good on paper, but they also provide an environment for gambling, which is illegal outside of members-only establishments. And it’s not just that.
A man's home is supposed to be his property and should be a place to satisfy most of his needs, but for elite men (let’s not talk about van Zieks right now) this is not always the case; judging by what Kazuma has seen, their home is not always a place that provides privacy and comfort, perhaps because the homes of powerful families often entertain guests for dinners, formal teas, entertainment, and parties. Their lives are on display most of the time, and often even reported in local papers. A gentleman's club offered them an escape of sorts. To be themselves and bond with other men. And do drugs.
It’s not a foreign concept per se, seeing establishments based on traditional gentlemen's clubs exist throughout the world, the Tokyo Club being a perfect example. It was allegedly founded in line with the principles of the Meiji era as a British-style gentlemen's club, and the membership includes leading Japanese politicians, functionaries, men of finance, and foreign ambassadors and representatives. Not that Ryuunosuke or even Mikotoba would have visited such a place even back home, much less so Kazuma himself.
“Would it be alright for me to tag along, I wonder?” Susato asks, visibly troubled.
Van Zieks is quick to brush her worries off.
“But of course, Miss Mikotoba. Plenty of ladies attend these kinds of establishments to become members as well. We live in revolutionary times, one might say.”
The smile returns to her face.
“Then I’ll be happy to accompany you.”
Iris jumps in her seat.
“May I come too, then?”
Kazuma chuckles.
“Unlikely.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“I’m afraid it won’t be possible, Iris.”
“Absolutely not.”
Ryuunosuke hums.
“I’ve heard they shoot birds there, just for fun.”
Iris’ eyes look watery.
“Birdies…”
Van Zieks nods.
“Yes, you are referring to pheasant shooting.”
Ryuu makes a face.
“I can’t say that sounds fun.”
“Ah, truly a barbarian practice, indeed.” Holmes jumps, as if he was just waiting for his chance to say something just because. “We must liberate them!”
Kazuma doesn’t think the detective is even invited to begin with, but he isn’t about to point it out. Besides, Kazuma actually likes Holmes, even if most of the time his insights in investigations are nothing short of useless. He makes van Zieks go red in the face and glare, making his usual scowl not seem that intimidating in comparison. It’s terribly entertaining.
“Well,” Susato politely interjects, “Studies have concluded that the released birds threaten native wildlife by increasing predator numbers and creating competition for food.”
“Yeah, don’t think so,” Gina huffs. “That’s gotta be what they tell ‘emselves to feel less shitty.”
Van Zieks doesn’t look too pleased with everyone’s thoughts on the sport (if anything, he appears slightly embarrassed for presenting the invitation at all), but he insists there are plenty of activities they can indulge in a gentlemen’s club besides killing defenseless birds.
Their guests accept the invite graciously either way. Kazuma steals a glance in Ryuu’s way, if only to discover what he thinks of any of this, but he finds him stuffing his face again.
Kazuma remembers, perhaps a tad too clearly, wishing Ryuunosuke had more of a backbone. He was always apologizing, fidgety, as if his own skin was slightly too big for him and it made him uncomfortable, as if he were to trip over it if he wasn’t careful. There was a charm to that nervous attitude, Kazuma won’t deny that, but he liked Ryuu best when he laughed, or even when he got mad, just because it meant he stopped worrying about what other people thought of him for an instant and let himself feel something real, something that ended up bubbling (or bursting) up to the surface, completely unfiltered.
Kazuma liked him a lot like that.
But it wasn’t just a matter of what Kazuma liked or not. It was for Ryuu’s own good too that he went out of his way to shake some sense into him. He remembers telling Ryuu to stand up for himself, to fight his own fights, because if he didn’t, no one else would.
He was lying— Kazuma would be ready to, any day of the week.
Straighten yourself up , he’d tell Ryuu. Hold your head high.
He also remembers how amusing he found it whenever Ryuu couldn’t hide his feelings and thoughts, even if he tried to. Kazuma liked to believe it was only him that could tell what his friend’s thoughts were with just one look, but the reality is that it was always painfully clear when he was drawing a blank.
Now, as he observes Ryuunosuke at the other side of the carriage, deep in conversation with Professor Mikotoba, he discovers he can't read him anymore. Not as well as he used to, at the very least. He's stopped wearing his heart in his sleeve.
The gentlemen's club welcomes them when they descend from the car, its majestic, ivy-covered facade exuding an air of grandeur. The building itself, a stately Georgian mansion, is surrounded by lush, manicured gardens that seem to have been meticulously tended to.
Van Zieks offers Susato a hand as they exit their own carriage, which she accepts with a polite bow of her head. Kazuma is a tad relieved to see they seem to get along well enough, so he wants to assume the trip here wasn’t all that awkward. His concerns are quickly dispelled though, because he watches the lord offer her his arm. Susato must be living her fantasy of being treated like a western princess, because she looks more than happy to oblige.
A couple of butlers come down the well-maintained lawns and the cobblestone path leading to the entrance, ready to receive them.
The club's interior is adorned with rich mahogany furniture, intricate Oriental rugs (the British are at it again), and elaborate chandeliers that bathe the room in a warm, golden glow. Polished brass accents and plush leather armchairs add to the overall sense of opulence.
The gentlemen in attendance, or at least the ones Kazuma can see, are impeccably groomed, even if dressed down in comfortable dress shirts and vests. They engage in lively conversations while enjoying brandy and cigars, creating an ambiance of intellectual discourse and camaraderie. The sound of hushed voices discussing politics, literature, and the latest scientific advancements fill the room. People with money like sophistication, Kazuma has learned this from the get go, even in Japan, so he pays them no more heed than necessary.
Kazuma notices that the club's walls are adorned with oil paintings of notable members, distinguished guests, and bucolic landscapes. Allegedly, these artworks celebrate the club's rich history and its members' contributions to society. It’s more like a pissing contest most of the time, but still.
Predictably, they draw a few curious looks upon arrival. Kazuma is used to being scrutinized like this due to his heritage, not to mention most of the group is Japanese, but it’s not just about that. By the way van Zieks gently leads Susato out of the room, it is not lost on him either.
Kazuma is more than aware that she can handle herself, but he’d rather she enjoys her time here than just leaving her to be ogled at like she’s an exotic piece of art, valued yet owned. He can’t wait to watch her bare handedly throw any of these men off a window, but he hopes it doesn’t come to that if it means she’ll have a bitter experience.
There’s tables outside too, seeing the weather is just perfect for outdoor activities. It seems the peasant shooting hasn’t started just yet, so he can see some riders further away, the stables and a gazebo under the shade of a leafy tree.
One of the butlers draws closer to offer them something to drink, which they accept. He lets them know the shooting will begin shortly, so they won’t be able to ask for horses until later, once the event is over. He also informs them there is a pool at their disposal, a free bar and even massages. Apparently, there is also a ladies lounge. Susato excuses herself for a moment to go check it out, and so the rest of them are left there to enjoy the gentle breeze and the drinks. It’s a bit hard to believe such a blue sky exists just two hours away from London, but Kazuma has come to peace with the fact that the city must have been haunted by cloudy and gloomy days for as long as it has existed.
Mikotoba ends up taking a seat next to the Englishmen, whilst Kazuma follows Ryuu back inside, since his dear friend is a curious soul first and foremost. Also, they haven’t really had the time to be alone, just the two of them. Kazuma lets him lead him as he wanders around.
“To think I’m able to step into one of these establishments,” Ryuu muses aloud, not thinking twice about scooping a few biscuits from a lonely tray he spots on a table. “Last time I got the chance it was all covered in blood.”
Kazuma shakes his head, frankly surprised he can say stuff like that out of the blue.
“Let’s pretend it’s your first time, then,” he says, purposefully phrasing it like that.
Ryuu doesn’t even blink as he flashes a smile.
“Love how that sounds.”
Kazuma flags down a butler and asks for some wine. The man politely lets him know they actually have a quite extensive collection of oriental alcoholic beverages, which makes the two boys exchange a conspirative look. Neither of them believes they actually have any of the good stuff, but they aren’t about to pass on the opportunity to talk shit about the self imposed mask of scholarness the people in this country love to flaunt about.
They don’t bother sitting, but rather stay standing next to a big mirror with ornate details in gold. The sake they are served isn’t as bad as expected, Kazuma has to admit, and they even have some premium harvests to offer, so they don’t think twice about taking the chance of enjoying expensive drinks and putting them on van Zieks’ tab.
They catch up on Ryuunosuke’s endeavors running his own firm, always aided by the diligent Susato, but he lets Kazuma know it hasn’t been easy. Kazuma can only listen, unable to quelch the proud warmth swelling in his chest over his friends’ achievements. He asks about their acquaintances back home, and is pleasantly surprised to find out what they are doing with their lives, a few years later.
“ Takeru got married?” he asks, positively certain his eyes are bulging out of their sockets.
Ryuu nods, cup of Daiginjo shaking in his hand.
“Yeah.”
“Takeru?” he asks again as he leans in, completely certain he’s got the wrong person. “Miyamoto?”
Ryuunosuke can’t contain his laughter, and frankly, Kazuma can’t blame him.
Kazuma shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around that piece of information. Last time they talked, Takeru was still a child in the body of a man, sleeping around and, truth be told, being disgusting in general. No sense of decor, no clue as to how to treat a lady— the last person Kazuma would ever think of when it came to being a gentleman. Susato was more of a gentleman at twelve than Takeru ever was at twenty-three, and he is not exaggerating.
But well, perhaps he managed to find a girl blind enough to get her to care for him. Kazuma can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine.
“Cheers to her poor soul,” he says, raising his cup, and Ryuunosuke’s meets it halfway with a clink.
“Cheers, and good luck.”
The burn of a good sake after so long almost makes Kazuma groan. It’s a near thing, because as much as he’s learned to appreciate the fruity taste of western wine, nothing beats the only thing that fueled his studies and made him numb to exhaustion and drowsiness for years— beside crippling obsession and certain almond eyes, but that is besides the point.
Those very eyes look at him over the rim of Ryuunosuke’s glass, and Kazuma feels a tad braver, like he used to during endless studying sessions, when Ryuu would raise his head from the makeshift pillow of his arms, among textbooks and notes, and look at him with a drowsy smile.
“Are you planning to marry any time soon, Partner?” Kazuma hears himself ask.
And the partner in there is deliberate, rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always has. Now though, it rings possessive, or at least that is how it feels for Kazuma, like he is tugging on that leash everyone used to tell him he owned over Ryuu. He’s always known it was kind of true that it existed, that he did hold some sort of influence over his best friend, regardless of him wanting to or not, and it isn’t certainly the first time he’s made use of that power, even if it usually was over meaningless, rather inconsequential things before. But now, Kazuma tugs because he wants to know if the other end is still attached to Ryuunosuke’s neck.
He is devious, sometimes, he knows this.
“We’ve talked about it, Susato-san and I,” Ryuu chuckles, unfazed. “We reconciled to marry to each other should the need arise.”
But so is Ryuunosuke, Kazuma’s come to learn; devious. Always with a smile.
Kazuma can’t for the life of his think on a better fit for his sister, and even less so for his best friend, but he feels the need of yet another cup of sake all the same.
There is no one else in this world as honest, as hardworking, as humble, as determined, as inherently good as Ryuunosuke Naruhodo, and no one as smart, as selfless, as sincere as Susato, yet Kazuma’s guts wrench at the mere thought of having to attend their wedding. Susato would look stunning in white, and Kazuma would want to claw his own eyes out.
He tries not to let it show how much he hates the idea, and since Ryuunosuke doesn’t ask the same thing back, they pass on to other topics.
Eventually, the conversation circles back to Kazuma and his job at the prosecutor’s office, back to van Zieks as a boss and their friends at Scotland Yard. Just as Kazuma himself did, Ryuu seems happy to hear about them all and to learn they are slowly moving on from what happened a year ago. His expression goes visibly softer when Kazuma mentions van Zieks is seeing a therapist, just like Gorey, and Kazuma confirms once again Ryuu hasn’t changed in that regard; he is compassionate, a soul that suffers and feels joy for others.
Also his cheeks are flushed, probably from the sake. It’s a pretty view. Kazuma can appreciate it from another angle thanks to the mirror to his friend’s left; the line of his profile and the swell of his chest. Is he slightly bigger, taller? Perhaps. Kazuma feels his mouth watering, and he has to look away.
The same butler from before comes by, this time around with a tray with a wide variety of cigars. He lets them know the peasant shooting is about to begin and that registration is still open until the beginning of the event. Kazuma ponders at the possibility of returning outside to watch as he politely refuses the tray the butler offers to him.
“Thank you,” says Ryuunosuke soon after, and Kazuma has to do a double take when he watches his friend evaluate the options presented and pick a petit Corona.
Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind Kazuma’s awed scrutiny, because he doesn’t look up at him when the butler offers him a cigar clipper to cut it with, or when he leans in to the flame the man holds high for him, with the offending thing already between his lips.
Silent, Kazuma watches as Ryuunosuke sucks into it, then turns to his side to take a gentle puff away from the butler. The man makes his exit soon after, and Ryuunosuke’s eyes come back to him, spying him through the smoke that comes out of his mouth.
Kazuma half expects him to choke on it. It doesn’t happen.
Ryuu chuckles, light.
“What?”
Kazuma’s eyebrows arch, but a smile comes to his lips despite himself.
“Didn't know you smoked.”
Ryuu shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
“Must’ve slipped my mind.”
Kazuma takes a step towards him, unaware his body just moved.
“Next you're going to tell me you are covered in tattoos and that you are in the yakuza.”
Ryuunosuke laughs, authentic and himself, but Kazuma doesn't find it funny. He wants to grab Ryuu’s jaw and lick into his mouth until he can taste nicotine.
Admittedly, they were drunk that one time, too. A little more than drunk, really, but the point stands. It’s always like that, isn’t it? There’s always alcohol involved when things get out of hand.
They were celebrating the long anticipated end of midterms and, more exhausted than anything else, they made their way to that izakaya near campus to try and be young like the rest of their peers. Predictably, what started like a good meal and a couple of drinks evolved into a shot competition Takeru and Hikari suggested as soon as they had their first one. Kazuma was too tired to say no, and truth be told, he had wanted to get wasted for a while, not really having the time in the weeks prior, so he just tagged along and took two shots in a row to get himself started.
It felt good, liberating, as one’s way to ethylic coma tends to be before you inevitably crash in flames.
Ryuunosuke was laughing so much, face glowing and open, leaning into him with half his weight, arm over his shoulder and bright eyes, and Kazuma felt at the top of the world.
The group stumbled back to Hikari’s place, and it was truly a miracle they didn’t get robbed or stabbed, but they managed to reach the house all the same. Takeru was out, carried by turns by the rest of them, and Kazuma couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was either pulling Ryuunosuke in until he bumped into his chest, or hooking the crook of his arm around his neck, or anything else that allowed him to keep touching his best friend. He didn’t want to blink and find himself alone, that Ryuu was gone, so that was the solution he came up with. Simple but effective.
“I’m right here,” Ryuu would tell him, laughing.
“Are you,” he’d mumble into his ear.
They ended up drinking some more at Hikari’s. He allowed it, since he loved to play truth or dare whenever he got drunk, and Kazuma liked it even more, that sensation of no dare being too embarrassing or debasing for him to take on. Later, when Ryuu and him were assigned their room for the night, they kept playing.
Needless to say, they didn’t really have the brains to come up with good stuff, even less so at three in the morning, so eventually, they just stopped. It was like Kazuma ran out of energy, tiredness catching up with him, and they just stayed there, sprawled over the floor, on opposite sides of the room, listening to each other breathe.
“I dare you to jump off the window,” Ryuunosuke muttered in a voice muffled against the tatami.
“I dare you to shut up.”
It worked for a while. But then Ryuu turned over, cheek pressed down, gaze fixed on Kazuma. He could feel it, as if it was a tangible thing, heavy on his chest, keeping him down.
A few minutes passed, perhaps even hours.
“Is it true that you rejected Tajima-san?” Ryuunosuke asked then, slurring his words a little.
“Who.”
“That senpai everyone keeps talking about.”
Kazuma dragged his hand up his face. His own thoughts escaped him like water, akin to raindrops through the spaces between his fingers.
Yes, Yuki Tajima, a medical student two years older than them. A truly beautiful lady, smart and proper, a dream for half the boys in Kazuma’s class. But Kazuma never cared much for women in that particular sense, so yes, he had to be straightforward and reject her advances. He remembered some of his friends being beyond disappointed in him, as if he had somehow let go of the biggest opportunity life would ever lay out for him.
“Yeah,” But Kazuma didn’t want to talk about her. “I dare you to give me an actual dare.”
Ryuu kept quiet, and for a moment, Kazuma suspected he’d fallen asleep.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kazuma sighed, and it sounded all too loud, even to his own ears. About Tajima? That one was easy.
“Didn’t think it was important.”
And it wasn’t, not at all. Kazuma didn’t spare it a second thought once she was gone, and the only reason why anyone heard about it at all was because she must have told her friends, and then they told someone else, and so on until half Yuumei knew about it. Kazuma didn’t even recall her words, but he did remember what he had for lunch later, with Ryuunosuke and the others.
He was busy thinking about all this, stomach growling at the mere thought of those nikuman they had that day, that he didn’t register Ryuunosuke sitting up. There was the rustle of clothes, a lazy creak on the floor, the faint sound of someone shifting.
Something told Kazuma to push himself off the tatami too. His body felt a bit heavy, his head pleasantly light, and it was a tad too hot. He blinked once, twice.
“I dare you,” Ryuu said, or breathed, because his voice barely made it all the way to Kazuma’s brain. He was supporting his weight with an arm behind his back, dress shirt completely unbuttoned, tanned skin gleaming faintly with every raise of his chest. Kazuma felt sobered up right away. Like he was on a chokehold. Once he knew Kazuma’s whole attention was on him, Ryuu continued, “To lick all the way from here,” his finger brushed the spot just above his chest, below his collarbones, and then, under Kazuma’s very attentive eyes, it went down slowly, down his chest, down Ryuunosuke’s perfect stomach, over the valley of his bellybutton, and stopped over that tantalizing V that disappeared beneath black slacks. “To here.”
The eyes that came up to Kazuma then appeared awfully dark, deep, like an uncovered well without warning signs. Like a magnet. Kazuma felt himself swallow, yet his tongue felt too big for his mouth, salivating still.
He crawled across the room, not a single thought in his head, mind completely blank. Ryuunosuke’s eyes had issued an order and he just had to comply. Odd, how it didn’t even cross his mind to ask Ryuu if he was serious, or if he was still drunk —because they both were, that was probably why they were in such a situation in the first place—, and how he was more concerned about wanting, needing to uncover more of Ryuunosuke’s skin, to yank his shirt off and get a good look at his chest, his arms, his neck.
Hovering over Ryuu, eye contact never lost, Kazuma heard how loud his own breathing was. He ducked low, Ryuunosuke’s skin soft and blazing, and upon brushing his parted lips against the tender space between his clavicles, Kazuma moaned.
He’d never been so turned on in his life.
He brought a hand up to hold onto Ryuu’s hip, to help support his weight as he began dragging the tip of his tongue down the cleft between Ryuu’s pecs. He felt Ryuu’s muscles tensing under the skin, heard a sigh overhead, and then felt fingers carding through his hair, blunt nails scratching at his nape where his hair ran the shortest.
Kazuma’s body moved on its own, as if possessed, and he lapped and kissed and bit at every inch of skin he could reach during his advance. He especially took his time around Ryuunosuke’s belly, where he insistently probed at his bellybutton, eliciting a breathless chuckle from his friend.
“Kazuma, it tickles.”
Kazuma loved when Ryuunosuke said his name like that, lips shaped around a laugh. The sound of it almost made him look up. Almost. He wasn’t done yet.
He went lower, savoring how Ryuunosuke tried to shift his hips under his hold, the way he mumbled nonsense as Kazuma gently pulled from his slacks and his lips went past that line. Ryuu was hard too, Kazuma could feel the heat beneath the dark fabric, and he had to take a moment to swallow the excess of saliva in his mouth at the mere thought.
A gentle pull on his hair made him raise his head. Ryuunosuke’s agitated chest called for his undivided attention, but yet another pull reminded him to look up.
Ryuunosuke’s eyes, pupils wide and nearly black, flushed cheeks, parted lips— he was begging for a kiss, and so Kazuma couldn’t say no. He felt an arm circling his neck, legs making way for him between them, Ryuunosuke’s sweet and alcohol-laced breath bathing his mouth with every hungry kiss. Kazuma had never felt as dizzy, as lost, as found, as starved, as he did when Ryuunosuke kissed him stupid.
Next morning, Kazuma woke up first.
It took a while— more than a few weeks, actually, but Kazuma was one hundred percent certain Ryuunosuke didn’t remember that night. Well, the fumbling together, the kissing, the heat. His best friend was the last one to wake up the next day, dragging his feet to the kitchen where the rest of them were having a meager breakfast seasoned with hungover. Kazuma’s head throbbed and his movements felt sluggish, but he distinctly remembers that, as Ryuunosuke plopped next to him at the kotatsu, dread made his stomach curl with nausea.
Hikari pushed some rice Ryuunosuke’s way, not bothering looking up from his own bowl, and then, when Kazuma sneaked a peek to Ryuu’s face, he found him concerningly pale and evidently sleep deprived.
“You good, partner?” he asked before he could think twice, and just as quickly, sooner that he could begin regretting saying anything, Ryuunosuke yawned, minute tears coming to his eyes.
“Kazumaaa, I’m dyinggg,” he whined, resting his head against Kazuma’s shoulder.
And that was it. By the end of the day he was normal, perhaps with some bags under his eyes, but all smiles and as clumsy as ever. Kazuma made sure to dig around for info regarding that night but, surprisingly, none of his friends remembered playing truth or dare or even how they got to Hikari’s place to begin with.
It was hard to believe at first, but Ryuunosuke’s earnest eyes never cowered from him during the following days, never showed to be deep in thought, never gave Kazuma the impression that he had something weighing on his mind.
Maybe Ryuunosuke thought he had dreamt it, he reasoned. Or maybe Kazuma was the one who actually had. Perhaps it was his own alcohol-muddled mind that came up with an elaborate fantasy he sincerely never thought about. Until that night, that is.
Because from that point on, something clicked in Kazuma’s brain, and suddenly it all made sense.
He wanted Ryuunosuke, he’d always known this. From the day they met. Perhaps not how, or in what way, or to what extent, but there had always been this pull, this gravitational force that yanked Kazuma by the throat and made him unable to leave Ryuunosuke alone.
That one is a bit silly , he’d thought during the speech contest, I want him.
He’s silly and cute and he wants me , he’d thought a week later, when they became friends, I want him.
He’s the most brilliant person in this entire Godforsaken world , he’d thought a second later, And I. Want. Him.
The night they messed around, Kazuma finally had a grasp on what that want meant, and he could never let go of it ever since. He didn’t even bother trying, regardless of how many times he catched Ryuunosuke blushing whenever a pretty girl talked to him, or the more than blatant absence of any interest on his friend's part towards anyone at all. Though Kazuma was a bit like that, too, now that he thinks about it. Not blind to other people’s beauty, but never enticed enough to try anything with them.
So he spent the rest of his days at school rejecting girls and taking advantage of Ryuunosuke’s lack of awareness about his personal space, bringing him close every time he could. He did feel guilty sometimes, because Ryuunosuke was too innocent to notice he barely could keep his hands off of him— but whenever Ryuu’s hand would slide across his back to hug him back, always laughing, Kazuma would forget about that shame and would hold him tighter.
So no, he doesn’t deserve Ryuu, he never has.
He thinks of this as he makes his way downstairs at the Old Bailey. Susato must be waiting for him at the entrance, where he told her he’d meet her for dinner. She did mention she’d love to tag along for an investigation trip with him, an idea that Kazuma promptly rejected, seeing the case he’s on right now is particularly gruesome. He knows she is used to this kind of thing thanks to her father’s job at the university, not to mention her experience as a judicial assistant, but he’d rather not show her any of the files if he can help it. He wishes he himself hadn’t ever seen them, but unfortunately, he doesn’t have control over the kind of shit van Zieks drops over his desk.
Had it been any other case, one less— disturbing, perhaps, Kazuma would have gladly accepted Susato’s helpful insight and delectable company. Van Zieks would probably, most surely, undeniably chew him out if he ever learned he brought along a civilian for an official investigation, but he thinks they can all agree that, once again, fuck van Zieks.
He meets Susato, who looks absolutely delighted to see him, and helps her get into the carriage assigned to him. He doesn’t mention he is not supposed to use it for anything other than work-related endeavors, being way more interested in asking Susato what she’s been up to since they came back from their brief visit to the gentlemen's club three days ago. She sits across from him, being the vivid picture of elegance and grace she’s always been.
As expected, she’s been spending her time in museums and other tourist landmarks she didn’t have the chance to check out during her stay in London last year. One would think any person living in such a city would find the time to visit its most iconic sights, yet Kazuma completely understands the feeling of getting back home at the end of an exhausting day at work and barely paying any attention to the enormous Big Ben, or stopping to admire the architectonic opulence of Buckingham’s palace.
So as they are taken to a restaurant she’s always wanted to try, she tells Kazuma all about her findings around the city. She says Ryuunosuke chaperones her most of the time, and that more often than not Iris tries to make some space in her schedule to tag along as well.
“I wish I could sneak out and spend more time with you,” he muses, genuine. He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, crime does not rest in this city.”
Susato is quick to dismiss his worries.
“These moments we share are more than enough for me, please know that.”
Those words would be infinitely reassuring in other circumstances, spoken without something laying underneath them. Kazuma can hear it in her tone, that she has something to add, something that she’s showing him from a mile away so he can brace himself. He crosses his arms over his chest as the carriage halts to a stop. They aren’t at the restaurant quite yet, though.
Probably because he doesn’t say anything, Susato has to continue herself. Her expression turns unusually serious, delicate hands one over the other on her lap.
“On the other hand, as you might be aware, Naruhodo-sama and my father…”
Kazuma’s eyes drift to the window before he can stop himself.
“Of course,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to reach out to Ryuunosuke, but work has been a tad tense lately.”
Mind you, he isn’t lying. He has all the intention of spending more time with his best friend before he returns home, he’s never considered acting otherwise. Ryuu’s gentle squeeze to his arm and his hopeful smile when they said their farewell that morning they came back to London from the club stuck with Kazuma during the following days, even more so when Ryuu told him they definitely had to hang out, and it rang like a promise.
So anything other than taking the chance he now has to be with Ryuu is entirely out of the question.
Professor Mikotoba, on the other hand…
The carriage rattles as it resumes its movement, and the rhythmic clip-clop of horse hooves that echoes against the cobbled street fills the silence once more.
"Kazuma-sama, I believe there is a matter closer to home that requires your attention."
Kazuma's gaze turns distant as he contemplates Susato's words. It’s very like her to be empathetic and soft in her manner of speech, yet it feels like she is being vague on purpose, as if she is guiding him to say it aloud on his own. He finds he doesn’t appreciate it.
And it certainly doesn’t help that they are stuck here, in a moving cube with a meager open window.
“Do not worry yourself over that,” he says, and he hopes she can hear the warning in his voice.
Susato keeps quiet for a moment.
They’ve never bickered, not even when they were younger, so she probably doesn’t know what she should or shouldn’t say to get to him, nor does Kazuma know how to get her to back down.
But the fact remains that this isn’t any of her business. She doesn’t seem to be aware of this, though. She takes a deep breath before speaking.
“I am talking about my father, Kazuma-sama. He’s mentioned to me you never replied to his letters.”
Kazuma has nothing to say to that. He simply didn’t feel like it. Every word penned by Mikotoba rang hollow and far away in his mind, and by the end of each letter, he was left wondering if he had even read them at all. Even now, Kazuma doesn’t remember a single thing written on them, as if they were nothing but rice paper, white and empty, folded in half and sent across the globe just because.
Kazuma's brow furrows, yet Susato, undeterred, maintains her steady gaze.
"Kazuma-sama, I only wish for your happiness and peace of mind. It pains me to see you burdened by unanswered questions."
She sounds like that lady van Zieks sent him to, the blond therapist with round glasses. Confronting the past is the only way to move forward, and all that. It’d proven too annoying to follow through, so he’d ended up telling van Zieks he was perfectly fine and that if he truly considered Kazuma to have that much free time on his hands, he could start sliding more cases his way. So no more therapy. It made Kazuma’s throat hurt.
"I understand that truth has its own weight," Susato goes on carefully, her voice gentle but firm. “But you must surely know he wanted to protect you.”
He doesn’t notice when his fists clench.
“Don’t defend him.”
For the first time, Susato’s gaze falls to her lap.
“It is not my intention. I apologize if it came out that way.”
But Kazuma knows. He knows she is well aware her father is no saint. Yet it still stings, that she , of all people, is the one doing a grown man’s job, that she is the one who has to listen when said man goes crying to her about Kazuma turning a deaf ear to his meaningless words. It’s painful, to put it plainly, that once again, just the way she did when she was nothing but a child, she has to step in and do what must be done. Kazuma wishes her love for her father wouldn’t blind her so.
He sighs.
“Let this be. It is not my wish to speak ill of Professor Mikotoba in front of you.”
“Perhaps that is what you ought to do.”
Susato’s eyes are unwavering. Kazuma would like to say Ryuunosuke’s stubbornness and determination have rubbed off on her, but he’d be lying. She’s always been like this— she wouldn’t be here otherwise.
If she wants him to speak frankly, he decides, then so be it. He isn’t hungry anyway. He doesn’t look away from her this time.
“I find it insulting that you are here speaking on his behalf. It’s beyond disgraceful he’s failed once again to act like a father.”
He waits, because he knows there won’t be turning back once he says what he’s been thinking ever since that day, when Ryuunosuke tore apart that mask Strongheart wore for a decade, plunging his hands into Kazuma’s ribcage and forcing it open in the process.
And the saddest thing is, that Susato knows what he is going to say too, just in the same way he did with her earlier. Maybe Mikotoba did raise them both, after all.
She shakes her head.
“That has nothing to do with this, and you know it.”
“I think it does. Why else would you be here, instead of him?”
“He didn’t ask me to, it was me—”
“Of course it was you!” Kazuma hears himself say, voice louder. “Because he won’t. Because he didn’t know what to do with himself when he was hurt and he left his newborn daughter so he could run away from that pain.” Susato’s wide eyes do nothing to stop him, they can’t. Nothing can’t. “And that’s why you were there on that ship, because you chase after him despite it all, that’s why you are here , because you know you can’t rely on him to do his damn job.”
Kazuma’s chest hurts and his pulse beats loudly behind his ears. The effect his words have on her are plain to see.
But her voice doesn’t tremble, despite her hands doing so.
“Be that as it may, he came back, for the both of us.”
It breaks Kazuma’s heart, that Susato is only perfect and resourceful and useful, because she always knew no one would be that for her. Mikotoba left her alone. Kazuma wishes that she’d just accept he is right and let him resent Mikotoba’s guts. That she’d see she should hold him accountable for what he’s done, and even worse, for what he hasn’t done.
He tries to swallow around the bundle of thorns at the back of his throat.
“And lied.”
“For your sake.”
“I didn’t want his lies!” He snaps. “I didn’t want to keep waiting for a man that was not going to come back.”
Susato shrinks, pursing her lips, eyes welling up. Kazuma hates seeing her like this— hates being the reason for her pain. His gaze drifts outside once more. He spots a couple of children chasing a dog. The silence rings louder than anything Kazuma might say.
“I understand,” Susato muses, and Kazuma sighs.
“Don’t even think about apologizing in his stead. He is not worth you bowing your head for.”
“I simply wish I could help.”
He reigns in the need to reach for her hand. They’ve never touched like that. They aren’t really siblings. He clears his throat.
“Tell him to man up, if you must.”
Surprisingly, Susato giggles, yet she falls quiet. Kazuma keeps his eyes somewhere else for the rest of the trip.
When the coachman announces that they are here, Kazuma isn’t sure if he’d be able to stomach anything after all that.
“I can’t say I understand my father’s actions either, or even what I would have done in his place,” Susato’s voice raises in the silence once more, as if talking to herself. Then she leans in a little, asking him to lend her his ear once more. “But please remember that when he came back to us, he denied himself of what he found here. He sacrificed what he wanted the most.”
Kazuma doesn’t have anything to say to that. Blond hair and blue eyes and a violin come to mind. He presses his lips into a thin line, knowing fully well what it must have taken to make a choice like that. Susato takes it as a cue to continue, eyes low.
“I think about that sacrifice all the time, of how hard it must have been. He never came back to London. He could have, yet did not. Perhaps that was his way to atone.”
He isn’t so certain about that. Kazuma isn’t one for presuming to know what other people think, never has been. He doesn’t see the point of going in circles inside one’s head if the train of thought never reaches reality. Actions speak louder than words, after all.
Unfortunately, something tells him she has a point. Absentmindedly, he wonders if deep down, Holmes resents Mikotoba, too.
Kazum feels tired, defeated.
“I won’t come looking for him. Although if he has something to say, I won’t stop him.”
He pushes the carriage’s door open, welcoming the boisterous harmony that comes with London’s streets and cowardly deeming the conversation over. He wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but the noise, the light and the breeze of air allow him a very needed moment of respite.
“But you must really stop playing the devil’s advocate,” he says, trying for a smile. He gets to his feet, exists the carriage first to offer Susato a hand. “Ryuunosuke would be proud, though.”
It might very well be a white flag, a petition for a cease of fire, yet Susato is gracious enough to allow it. The return of her smile warms Kazuma’s heart to no end, despite the guilt of being the one trying to tarnish it earlier.
She takes his hand, then his arm, and they go into the restaurant.
After their rather tumultuous ride, the meal goes by in what Kazuma can only describe as good spirits. The food is delicious, and Susato enjoys the experience from the moment they are received at the door. They might agree that British customer service still has a long way to go if compared to the one back in their home country, but money is an universal language, that goes without saying.
A different, perhaps slightly unexpected sight awaits them when they come back to the Old Bailey.
Ryuunosuke, presumably here to pick Susato up, is deep in amicable conversation with none other than van Zieks, at the base of the stairs that lead to the gate of the building. Ryuunosuke’s friendly nature and cordial smiles aren’t something out of the ordinary, not at all, yet Kazuma’s eyebrows go up on their own when he looks over at his boss. Van Zieks is smiling too. A rare sight indeed, said little smile exclusively reserved for Iris and no one else.
The rattle of the vehicle coming along takes them out of their conversation, and they both turn.
“Oh, Naruhodo-sama is here,” Susato comments when she sees them, the carriage coming to a halt.
Kazuma didn’t know they were on, well, good terms. In speaking terms. Kazuma knew for a fact that both himself and his boss were busy at work at the Prosecutor’s Office as of late, so he can’t imagine van Zieks finding time in his packed schedule to fit in any kind of rendezvous, let alone one with Ryuunosuke of all people. That unusual smile of van Zieks tells him he wasn’t just making small talk for the sake of it. Kazuma can’t say for sure whether they ever exchanged letters or not, if they are actually friends now, but it feels like something is escaping him.
Once more, he helps Susato exit the carriage. She cheerfully waves towards the other two men, to which Ryuu waves back and van Zieks gives a respectful nod of his head. He doesn’t say anything right away, but his cold blue eyes move from them to the vehicle once. He will probably reprimand Kazuma about this later on, just like he thought he would, but never in front of other people. His noble custom of always keeping up appearances does nothing but grant Kazuma windows to do his own bidding, he must know this by now, yet old habits die hard.
“You guys went out to eat without me?” Ryuunosuke laments, slightly slouching his shoulders. He makes a face. “It was Mr. Holmes’ turn to cook today, you know.”
Van Zieks shakes his head, exhaustion written all over his face.
“I can imagine how that went down. No one should be subjected to such a thing.”
Ryuunosuke chuckles, and Kazuma needs his attention back on him right away.
“Don’t be jealous, partner,” he says, squaring the arm Susato is holding onto. “We had some catching up to do.”
Susato giggles behind her hand at his right, but Kazuma’s gaze is on Ryuunosuke, who rolls his eyes. Ryuu turns to van Zieks.
“Perhaps we can catch up too, my Lord,” he tells the prosecutor, tone dripping with a fake innocence that Kazuma hasn’t heard in a while but recognizes immediately. It makes his stomach churn unpleasantly. “Preferably in one of those fine establishments you must surely be acquaintanced with.”
Van Zieks seems a tad taken aback by the suggestion, yet he is quick to recover.
“But of course, Mr. Naruhodo, it would be my pleasure to take you out for dinner.”
Kazuma’s eyes shrink to slits. For someone so disciplined and intelligent, van Zieks can be unbelievably stupid. It is not his fault entirely, though.
He’s devious, that boy.
Kazuma must be growing restless, because Susato’s sixth sense kicks in. She lets go of his arm.
“Lord van Zieks,” she says, fluttery voice gently yet surely forcing van Zieks’s reluctant blue gaze to leave Ryuu. She steps forward. “I would also love to join you for a meal. I’ve found the most interesting exhibitions I think would be to your liking.”
Van Zieks says something, probably a polite agreement, but Kazuma doesn’t listen. He is more interested in staying back while they talk, next to a deceptively innocent Ryuunosuke. But Kazuma knows better.
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“What was that ?” he asks in a low voice, and it surprises even himself that the question is out of his mouth before he knows it.
Ryuunosuke clasps his hands behind his back, the line of his shoulders relaxed as he pretends to observe van Zieks and Susato talk.
“I’m merely playing your game,” he answers easily, as if Kazuma just asked about the weather.
“And what game is that.”
“You tell me.”
Kazuma grinds his jaw, but says nothing. He did start, he supposes, but it rubs him the wrong way that Ryuunosuke seems content, perfectly at ease.
And once again, Susato must feel the tension— either that or they don’t bother hiding it—, because she turns to them, to Ryuu.
“Naruhodo-sama, we should head back for today.”
That may be for the best, actually.
“In that case, please take the carriage with you,” van Zieks says, or rather decrees, giving a hand gesture to the coachman. “It’s no time of the day for a lady to be strolling alone near Baker Street.”
No one mentions Ryuunosuke would be there in such a case, mainly because they know it wouldn’t make much difference. Karuma is there, perched on his hip as always, yet it’s unfortunately, only for show. Ryuunosuke might be many things, but a swordmaster isn’t one of them. Kazuma does fear the day he is handed a pistol though, given his gifted eyesight and fearsome aim.
They say their goodbyes, thank van Zieks for his attention and promise to reach out soon. Ryuunosuke gives Kazuma an amicable farewell, which shouldn’t be a problem in itself. The problem is that last passing glance, the one that makes every muscle in Kazuma’s body go taunt.
As the carriage tatters into motion and rides away, Kazuma understands.
Ryuunosuke is playing his own game.