Work Text:
The pen feels as heavy as Ryunosuke’s conscience as he twirls it between his fingers, plastic taking on the characteristics of lead as he’ll blame it for his inability to so much as jot down bullet points.
To anyone willing to see through the misunderstanding, the story is simple. From his experience, though, that’s the case with just about any story. What he does ultimately comes down to writing about some of the many issues that could have been easily solved by the parties involved sitting down for a civil conversation, and he wishes people did, even if that would leave him out of a job.
It’s never too late to learn about sports, he muses, though he’s sure Kazuma, his best friend and most avid reader of the Yumei News, would have some issues with his leaving the international news section after the two of them had gone through the trouble of learning legal English together.
And really, turning sportive matters into a full-fledged piece sounds a lot more intimidating than he’ll admit.
If that thought seems so daunting, Ryunosuke wonders… He’s lived in Britain for a year now, perhaps he’s grown comfortable. Where in his first days he would constantly challenge himself, he can’t remember the last word he’s learned, now, and maybe it’s his vocabulary that is lacking. Gone are the days where his friend teased him endlessly about the sumimasorry’es that just happened to slip out, he misses it.
In days like this, when writer’s block hits him so hard he doesn’t think he should even be in this line of work at all, he misses Japan. The kind faces of his familiar neighbours, the blooming cherry blossoms, the food, waving his yakitori in Kazuma’s face and failing not to get any chicken on his yukata, the sun, oh god, the sun.
A few days after moving to England, he’d asked Kazuma if the reason their country is known as the land of the rising sun is because the sun can’t be seen anywhere else. Kazuma had laughed in his face. Even a few years into the future, he doesn’t think the foggy streets of London are something he’ll grow accustomed to.
“But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Bleary eyes blink up at him and he chuckles as the cat seems to make a face at having his slumber disrupted by something so meaningless as Ryunosuke’s thoughts. Soseki doesn’t move from the pile of books he’s lying comfortably on and Ryunosuke knows he won’t unless he needs something or is lured with more books.
It’s a simple way to make decisions and he envies the cat for it. He wishes life could come down to whether there are books somewhere or not, but pesky things like rent and food get in the way. On the other hand, Soseki must envy the apparent ease with which Ryunosuke comes across everything he wants.
“Maybe you’d learn something from going to a public library, since we wouldn’t be able to keep all the books. Or you’d just replace me with some librarian.” The damage has been done, already: Soseki’s head lifted, tilted as he stares at Ryunosuke without a hint of his previous tiredness. The word ‘book’ has that effect on him, he’s learned, and the way it slipped out so easily must mean Ryunosuke himself wants to go out, get some air, and look at books. Staring at an empty piece of paper isn’t going to inspire him.
He sighs around a smile as he stands up, hearing a soft plop on the floorboards that indicates Soseki’s decision to join him. “Don’t make a mess of anything,” he warns the cat, pointless as it may be.
The door opens with a quiet click and he yawns as he locks it, aware of the excited cat rubbing himself against his right calf as he walks in circles. He knows he doesn’t look his best, hair somewhat messier than usual due to running his hands through it in frustration with his lack of words, but he doesn’t look back, neither does he worry about Soseki. As much as the cat seems to loathe Britain, it’s softened by the promise of books, the one thing that will never fail to make him leave the flat.
It’s a relief he doesn’t have to worry about him in days like this, when the fog is just thick enough to bother him, and he can count on the rescue to follow him closely, more out of distaste for the London streets than out of fondness for Ryunosuke.
Thick enough that one wrong turn makes what was a simple walk to the nearest bookstore turn into him bumping into a horde of people at an unknown location. He narrows his eyes, looks around, and sees them. News correspondents of all media forms and types, gathered around this building, and it’s his luck that in running away from his work, he walks into it – completely unprepared, nothing to his person but his keys, wallet, and cat.
He’s about to sigh and leave when he sees a familiar flash of red. He squints, because it can’t be, but someone nearby says ‘it’s Kazuma Asogi!’ and it is. Before he can process the implications that Kazuma is here – had he walked all the way to the Old Bailey without noticing? – there’s a voice calling out ‘partner!’ and just like that, he’s yanked away from the crowd with a yelp.
Oh, yeah. That’s Kazuma, alright.
“I knew your journalist instincts would bring you here!” Kazuma exclaims with a wide grin once they’re inside, clapping Ryunosuke on the back and making him lose what little breath he’s regained in the few seconds he’s had since he was released.
Ryunosuke’s ‘journalist instincts’ sit next to his feet and lick his paws. He glances down at him and so does Kazuma, who makes an unimpressed face he’s very, very familiar with. “Really? It was Soseki? You had no idea the biggest comeback of the century is happening today?”
“I...do now?” Ryunosuke answers with a sheepish smile.
“You could have at least worn something better than that old jacket and jeans.”
“I’ve had this jacket for three years, Kazuma, that’s not old.”
“It is when you wear it every day. It is when you’re wearing it to my workplace, where I just got you the interview that everyone in Japan is going to read and all the British papers are going to be falling over themselves to publish a translation.”
Oh. He’d forgotten, what with struggling to stay alive, that there’s a pack of his own kind outside, which means there’s something big going on inside. A comeback, if what Kazuma had said earlier holds, which it always does, and he has an interview.
He looks down at his clothes, ragged and full of cat hair, against the historic place they’re standing in.
“You have a point,” he admits.
“It’s too late now, court will be in session soon.” Kazuma gestures for him to follow and he could leave, instead, but he chooses to go after his friend, even if it means looking like a complete fool in front of someone important. Two someones, if he counts Kazuma, but at least his best friend is used to it.
“Oh, wait, is this…?” He asks as they pass a room that seems to be emanating the scent of paper.
“Archive,” Kazuma confirms with a nod.
Ryunosuke stops briefly in front of it, looking down at Soseki and gesturing toward the room, which already seems to catch the cat’s interest. “Book!” He says, amused as he sees the cat shoot inside like a bolt of lightning almost as much as he’s relieved that he hadn’t had to break a promise to Soseki because of work and a poor sense of direction.
With nothing left to worry about, he catches up to Kazuma, the two stopping at a door, where Kazuma adjusts his jacket, presumably to make him look like less of a mess than he is, before opening it.
“Welcome to the prosecutor’s lobby, Ryunosuke!” Kazuma says like he’s Willy Wonka allowing him into the Chocolate Factory, not a lawyer in a tiny room prosecutors use.
Ryunosuke can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, helped along by the emptiness in the room. “And who am I interviewing here, partner?” He raises an eyebrow, so caught up in his dramatics that he misses the sound of the other door, leading into the courtroom, opening behind him. “Oh, the return of this great chair! The long-time holder of arses of grand British prosecutors, and yet unable to pull the sticks out of them!”
Kazuma doesn’t look amused. Really, he puts his best into sounding as stuck up and British as they get, and in return Kazuma gives him a horrified look? Some best friend.
The reasons for that are obvious when a throat clears behind him and Ryunosuke just knows he mirrors Kazuma’s expression as he turns around to face the newcomer.
Even if Ryunosuke couldn’t recognise the badge on the man’s chest, the way he stands, dresses, and the fact he’s in the prosecutor’s lobby tells him this is a prosecutor. A prosecutor, who caught him making fun of prosecutors to his prosecutor best friend.
This is one of those days, isn’t it?
“I, I.” He stutters, nearly shaking with the need and inability to explain himself, but Kazuma steps in and saves the day.
“Lord van Zieks, this is the friend I told you about, Ryunosuke Naruhodo. Former friend.”
Ryunosuke understands the sentiment fully. He’ll be sure to tell Susato she’s been promoted later.
If this van Zieks man is in any way moved by their relationship or Ryunosuke’s words, he doesn’t show it. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Naruhodo.”
He’s sure it isn’t anyone’s pleasure right now, but he can appreciate the polite effort at ignoring his faux pas. “Th-the pleasure is mine, Lord van Zieks! Thank you for agreeing to this conversation.” He bows, whether due to courtesy or to hide his red cheeks, he’ll never know.
Something else he doesn’t know? Who Lord van Zieks is and what he’s supposed to be interviewing him about. Lawyerly things? Hairstyle tips? The man being a prosecutor doesn’t shed much light on what is important about him on this day.
Looking at him, Ryunosuke is inclined to say it has something to do with his hair.
“Prosecutor Asogi has talked extensively about your talent with words and willingness to speak for the truth. I wouldn’t usually agree to this sort of thing, but that is what I seek, and he convinced me of your integrity.”
How someone as focused as Kazuma found the time to speak about him is something he’ll never understand, but this isn’t the first and likely won’t be the last time. His best friend is just an overachiever like that. Meanwhile, Ryunosuke can’t display his alleged talent with words as he’s too busy staring at the man in front of him.
He’s not blind. Van Zieks is hot, he’ll be the first one to say it.
Before he’s spent too long staring to be able to save face, Ryunosuke shakes himself out of it – Kazuma’s clearing of his throat helps – and nods. “I strive to reach the heart of the matter in any topic I address in my pieces. There’s so much misunderstanding out there, my purpose has always been to shed light on what is already there.”
Even faced with a man who looks like this, his passion for his job and values overshadows everything else. He wants to help people, as best as he can, and if Kazuma believes this will benefit others, he trusts him.
“That is agreeable. I believe you’d like to hear me talk about Klint?”
Instinctively, he turns to look at Kazuma. But his friend has abandoned him for looking at some files and pretending he isn’t overhearing everything, the traitor, so Ryunosuke has to think on his feet. Who is Klint? A family member, friend, co-worker? Is this...a trick question? To make sure he’s ready for the interview and knows enough to be able to guide it properly? He isn’t, but he doesn’t want to fail.
He laughs nervously, waving his hands in front of his chest, then gesturing for them to sit before he speaks, “no, no! Let’s start with the basics, shall we? Do you, ah, prosecute here often?”
He hears the sound of something being slapped in Kazuma’s direction. He can’t blame him. He has, essentially, adapted one of the oldest and lamest pick-up lines in human history and used it to start an interview. He’s a sham.
“Not for the past ten years.” An answer instead of a slap in the face is good. Comeback, he remembers, and it makes sense, if he hasn’t prosecuted at the Old Bailey (at all?) for a decade.
“What has changed since the last time you were at the Old Bailey?”
No reaction from Kazuma must mean he’s recovered properly, right? “Very little. The system isn’t capable enough to cease corruption through more than preemptive measures.”
He would say he has if it weren’t for the fact he isn’t capable enough to remember any of this and he doesn’t have a notepad in hand. His wallet only holds a tenner he can’t afford to waste and has nothing to write on with anyway. He’s doomed.
He nods, as if this is a real, proper interview with a proper interviewer and he’s not completely lost and slightly worried about leaving Soseki alone, but he hasn’t done a good enough job at hiding it, because, “you needn’t take any notes?”
The powers of observation of a prosecutor. He gulps down his guilt as he stares at van Zieks with wide eyes, caught in his lack of preparation. So this...is how his career ends. With his worst attempt at flirting followed by questions he’s already forgotten about.
“I do. But I can’t.”
The prosecutor sighs and pinches his brows. “Asogi.” Oh no, is Kazuma in trouble too? Ryunosuke stares down at his filthy converse shoes, somehow gone from black into a faded grey, and feels a lot like a child about to get scolded by their teacher. “I assumed your friend knew of this meeting.”
He can’t see it, but he knows Kazuma is glaring at him. Worst friend and worst journalist of the year. Got it.
“I didn’t know but- but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to! Talk to you, I mean. You seem, uh, very interesting and clever and handsome and from what I’ve already gathered you have engaging ideas I would like to hear more about, Lord van Zieks!”
The room is quiet. So, so quiet. Ryunosuke can hear nothing beyond his own thoughts and all of them are the way the word ‘handsome’ fell from his lips just now, so he wishes there was something, anything, but there isn’t.
Until Kazuma exhales. He’s holding back laughter and Ryunosuke can’t blame him. For once, he’s glad he’s being laughed at.
“Perhaps at another time. Court will begin soon,” is all van Zieks says, merciful enough to not shove Ryunosuke into the hole of shame he’s dug for himself and as van Zieks stands, he takes the hint.
“Um, here’s my number!” He takes his business card from his wallet, offers it, and his hand stays like that, holding it into empty, unwelcoming air, for a few, horrible seconds until van Zieks takes it, fingers touching Ryunosuke’s own and forcing a rush of blood to his cheeks. “Call me if you ever need me to ask you more questions. Thank you for your time!” He bows and rushes to leave the room, ears growing red as Kazuma’s muttered ‘oh my god’ reaches them just as he exits the lobby.
“You are the worst flirt I have ever met,” Kazuma says, no longer holding back his laughter now that the door is shut behind them and the empty corridor offers something of a reprieve for Ryunosuke’s dignity.
“You are the worst friend I have ever met,” he complains in return, sulking because he knows Kazuma is right and he just ruined what little chances he may have had. It’s fine. He’s used to making a fool of himself. But it doesn’t matter, because Kazuma likes him as he is and friends are more important than attractive British men.
Very attractive, tall British prosecutors, with their fitted suits and posh accents.
It may be fair to mention Ryunosuke doesn’t think this of many other British men. Any, actually, just the one.
“Are you going to watch from the gallery now, pine for my boss?” Kazuma teases him and he groans, hiding his face behind his hands as he leans against the wall.
“Just tell me I didn’t mess up your work life permanently,” he pleads, muffled by his hands, which Kazuma moves away from his face.
“You didn’t. Don’t worry about it, he looked flattered.”
Ryunosuke blinks, thinking back to the unchanging expression on van Zieks’s face. “Uhhh...”
“He did. Believe me, I’ve been working with him for months. I can tell.”
And he’s never really thought Kazuma would lie. He wouldn’t start now. Ryunosuke nods. “Maybe I should just go back. I’m not going to get anything done here.”
“I’ll explain everything to you over dinner with Susato on Friday, alright?” He nods again, smiling in relief that this, their weekly plans, hadn’t changed. “Then I’ll go work. Get home safe, partner!”
They wave their goodbyes and Ryunosuke feels calmer, seeing how confident Kazuma is that nothing bad is going to come out of his slips.
Calmer, until he’s nearing the archive and hears a very familiar meow. He needs only slip his head into the archive door and he sees three people running after a very angry and fast Soseki, in something that can be described as both a scene from his nightmares and from a speechless comedy movie.
How can such a quiet cat get into so much trouble?
He steels himself for a raging cat and steps inside, noticing how desperate the workers are that they don’t even question the sudden appearance of unfamiliar help. “Gotcha!” He exclaims as he triumphantly hugs the cat to his chest, hisses falling into deaf ears. “Maintenance troubles,” is all the explanation he gives them before he nearly runs out of the archive and the Old Bailey, displeased cat in his arms.
What a day.
-
It’s two days later when Ryunosuke decides to walk Soseki to a library again.
After the prior failure, Soseki had, for all intents and purposes, thrown tantrum after tantrum. Ryunosuke can name a handful of books that escaped unscathed, but he’s not sure how long that’ll last. At this rate, he’ll have to go out for clothes that don’t have scratches in them before he can think about going out for a book, but it’s important to keep the peace in one’s home, so he throws on a windbreaker he’s never worn, the synthetic smell presumably having kept it in one piece so far, and holds Soseki to his chest before zipping it up.
The cat whines and scratches at his undershirt, but his umbrella was destroyed yesterday and it’s raining outside, so short of this, there’s no saying when they’ll be able to go out next.
There isn’t enough fog that anything isn’t visible through the streetlights, something he’s glad for as he takes the proper route this time and reaches their destination. Inside the library, a warm and dry Soseki slips out of his jacket to rest on the most acceptable pile of books, while Ryunosuke is left to get some of the water out of his hair before going in properly.
Here, at least, the staff is familiar with Soseki and he doesn’t have to worry about him at all. He can sit down on the floor and pick up a book for himself, browsing through it as he decides whether he’ll add it to Soseki’s sleep pile at home or not.
He’s found one that seems to be Soseki’s style when he hears a throat clear next to him. He’s ready to give someone a heartfelt and educational speech about why they shouldn’t approach people who are busy with a book at a library when he looks up and his throat goes dry.
“L-Lord van Zieks!” He nearly shouts, dropping the book on his lap in his shock. He’s not surprised when another customer shushes him. There goes his self-righteous speech.
“It’s Barok, actually.”
What’s Barok, Ryunosuke is tempted to ask, then his brain is back on track, recovering from the sight that is the prosecutor in a white button-up and form-fitting slacks. His name. Of course he’s not van Zieks, first name Lord, he’s Barok van Zieks.
“Barok, of course! I’m just- surprised to see you here, is all.” He chuckles, awkward, and hangs his head for a few moments before peering up at the other once again. “What brings you here?” He then wants to smack himself on the face. Books, obviously.
Where Barok had been happy to answer even the most ridiculous of questions a couple of days before, he doesn’t, now. Watching him closely, Ryunosuke can see what Kazuma had meant: the minimal shift of his jaw, his wandering gaze, it’s there. Is he...nervous?
“You don’t have to answer. Do you want to sit down?” He pats the space next to him, expecting a dismissal.
Barok surprises him by sitting down on the floor in what looks like very expensive suit pants, but to the kind of person who can afford that, things like sitting down on the floor then affording dry cleaning may not matter so much. “For someone who asks questions for a living, you didn’t concern yourself too much with the absence of an answer,” the prosecutor says, so close to him he can feel the warmth in his body, can touch him, if he slides just a little closer, but he doesn’t. He’s satisfied with looking at him from this close.
What can he say? Barok van Zieks is a handsome man.
“Don’t tell my boss this, but I decided I’m off the clock now,” he jokes around a small grin. He may be wrong, but he thinks he sees the corners of Barok’s lips move.
There’s a beat of silence between them and Ryunosuke is beginning to wonder if he should go back to his – no, Soseki’s – book, but Barok looks away from him, almost too dramatic, and it gives him the impression he may say something.
He’s proven right a few seconds later. “Asogi told me of this place.”
Place implies that it’s more than a library to him. To Ryunosuke, it is – Soseki’s favorite spot to rest and renew his energies, while Ryunosuke can take a break from everything and read for the hell of it – but that doesn’t explain why it may be so to Barok, especially if he’s only heard of it recently, through Kazuma.
Unless…
Ryunosuke isn’t a dumb man. He can be in denial, like any other human being, but sometimes the truth is staring a person in the face and to reject it would be just stupid. Like now.
“Kazuma told you I’d be here.”
Barok’s gaze meets his again. “He implied you would bring your cat here at some point during the week.”
Of course, Kazuma couldn’t know exactly at which stage his field with Soseki was, so there was no way for him to tell today would be the exact day. And that must mean… “It’s not your first time here.”
“It isn’t.”
“You’ve been looking for me.”
“I have.”
“Huh.” He has to hold back the splitting grin that wants to burst out. Barok has been looking for him. Barok wants to talk to him. Barok sat down on the floor next to him at a library and told him to call him by his first name.
What a beautiful day it is.
“You had a lot more to say the other time we met.”
He can’t help it – he laughs, though his cheeks are crimson with embarrassment at the memory of what wasn’t one of his finest moments. “Forgive me. I may have said too much, then.”
“No, I believe you said just enough.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
They stare at each other, Ryunosuke wondering if he looks as fascinated as he feels. His mouth has to ruin the moment eventually, and it does, with a, “you could have called. You have my number.”
“You gave it to me ‘in case I needed you to ask more questions’.” Elegant eyebrows raise and Ryunosuke winces, reminded of his wording. He’s not sure if it’s the worst of his flirting from that day, either. “I was hoping we could meet under different terms. You may ask me anything you’d like, as long as I’m allowed the same.”
“That sounds like a date,” he blurts out, something he seems to do a lot around Barok, and the man never judges him for it.
If anything, it always seems to go the right way for Ryunosuke. “I hoped it would be a date.”
“Oh! It can be. I would like it to be.”
Barok nods and plucks the book from his lap. Ryunosuke yelps, taken aback by the movement, but watches as Barok pulls a pen from his pocket and scribbles numbers on the inside cover of the book. “This isn’t mine-” he begins, the protest half-hearted at best, and is stopped by the wave of a hand.
“It will be once I purchase it.” He blinks, giving Barok the same wide-eyed look he had when he’d been caught in their other meeting. “I will accept no complaints. You looked like you were enjoying it.”
He had been, but he thinks he likes the book a lot better after Barok stands up, pays for it, and offers him the bag with a promise to call him.
This one isn’t going to Soseki’s pile.