Work Text:
When Kazuma woke up his head hurt. There was a driving pain in his forehead as if there were a nail in it, each breath a hammer that struck it one more time.
“Kazuma-sama, you’re awake!”
“Susato…?”
“Yes, it’s me. Oh, I was so worried for you!”
Kazuma still couldn’t see anything besides blurry shapes and his headache was enough to scatter his thoughts to the far winds. One thing at a time. He didn’t recognize this lightning, so he wasn’t at home. There was something soft underneath him. A bed. Yes, a bed of the steamship he was traveling to Britain on. And he was going to Britain with—
He jerked upright. “Susato, what are you doing here? What time is it? I didn’t let you in, have you looked around?”
Kazuma’s vision had cleared enough that he could make out a shocked expression on her face. “W-well, it’s rather late in the morning. You didn’t let me in, yes, the crew had to break in the door and— Kazuma-sama, wait!”
He had begun to lift one hand to rub out the last of the sleep in his eye, but when he did something tugged against his wrists. Slowly, deading what he was about to see, he looked down. There were handcuffs around his wrists.
“What…?”
Susato’s voice shook. “There’s been a murder here in first class.”
Alright, damn the pretense, this was too much. “Susato— Susato, I smuggled Ryunosuke on board. I know it’s a lot at once, but I need you to check if he’s—”
She gently placed her hands over his. He couldn’t breathe, for the first time in his life he was frozen stiff. “Kazuma-sama,” She said, the same kind of softness in her voice that counsels used to speak to the victim’s loved ones. “Naruhodo-san was the victim.”
Kazuma was certain he would never breathe again. “That can’t be. He would have woken me up if he tried to leave. It’s someone else.”
Susato started to rub soothing circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. “The body was discovered in your room.”
“The—” Ryunosuke had died in his room? “Then the handcuffs are because…”
She nodded. “You’re the prime suspect.”
He doubled over and screamed until his throat hurt more than his head did. Susato flinched, then held his shoulders. No doubt she was frightened. This was the biggest emotional outburst that she’d ever seen from him. Perhaps the only one.
“I wouldn’t hurt him,” He rasped when it was all over.
“I know.”
“Not on purpose, I…” He couldn’t protect him either. What had he been thinking, bringing Ryunosuke on a trip like this?
“Kazuma-sama.” She gave him a look so firm it was all but impossible to look anywhere else. “I believe you. We will fix this.”
He nodded, half in a trance. When she said it like that, he could almost believe that it wasn’t irreparably broken.
It’d been a few hours since the investigation had wound down. Kazuma was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands to soothe the bruising that the handcuffs had caused. It was mostly mild, but at least the action gave him something to do than… than…
Well. He was still staring at the chalk outline of where the body had been. It made him feel better to think of it that way. The body. So he could pretend he had no personal stake in the matter. It was just another case that he’d finished, and now he’d move onto the next one. They’d be removing it tomorrow, anyways. As his eyes drifted over the floorboards, he suddenly caught sight of something glinting under the desk in the corner. What could that be?
He crossed the room and knelt down, feeling around until something small and spiky brushed against his finger. Pulling it out, Kazuma found Ryunosuke’s university collar pin sitting in his palm.
He laughed, the action pulling on the brambles twined through his ribcage. Ryunosuke had always been losing this thing, and always roped Kazuma into helping him look for it. It wasn't supposed to be here. It should be back in Japan, underneath a loose stack of notes or forgotten in plain sight on a shelf. Safe.
“What’s funny, Kazuma-sama?” Susato asked from the doorway just before the laughter gave way to tears.
“Nothing that important.” He cleared his throat. “Do you, ah, need something?”
“Oh, it’s just that…” She clutched something closer to her. “I was speaking with the crew about what was going to happen to Naruhodo-san’s possessions and I managed to convince them to give me this.”
Susato held whatever she had out toward him. A blue glove lay in her hands. Ah.
“I… I’m not sure what importance this item had to him, but he always seemed to be wearing it when I saw you together so I thought it might hold some value. At least as a reminder.”
Kazuma took it from her. “Thank you, Susato. This… your actions mean a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Please, get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Iris kept a tight grip on the hem of his sleeve as they stepped through the doors to van Zieks’ office. Kazuma wasn’t particularly fond of bringing a ten-year old into the lion’s den, but it wasn’t like she would be safer anywhere else. He had concerns about how often she was left to her own devices in Sholmes’ flat.
Of course, once they got there, there was an unfamiliar figure in a hood sitting at a desk in the corner, back to the door. They were eerily still, like a statue. From the angle they were at, Kazuma could see the beginnings of a mask on his face.
“What are you doing here?”
Iris squeaked and jumped to hide behind Kazuma. He turned to face van Zieks, who was giving him the same mildly disinterested look he always had.
“We came to check on you. We read a story in the paper that you’d been attacked.”
“I see.”
The air between them was practically rippling from the intensity of their gaze. Kazuma nodded towards the figure in the corner. “What did that poor man do to incur your wrath?”
van Zieks watched him for a moment, crossing his arms. “That’s my apprentice. He’s there of his own free will.”
“I didn’t know you had an apprentice, Lord van Zieks,” Kazuma said airily.
“Yes, it’s a somewhat recent development that occurred over your break from practicing.” He placed a slight emphasis on the ‘k’ of ‘break’.
Well, that was just needlessly rude.
“Who is he, exactly?”
“I’m not privy to such information. Stronghart entrusted him to me, so if anyone is aware of his identity, it’s him. There are orders to keep him in the mask. Apparently the man apparently has amnesia, and I assume Stronghart wishes to protect him from unsavory individuals in his past that may rise from the woodwork."
van Zieks had an issue with never knowing when the right time to ask questions was, didn’t he? “And this doesn’t bother you?”
“Lord Stronghart isn’t one to make rash decisions without reason.”
“Well, I hope so,” For your sake.
The apprentice suddenly stood, striding over to where van Zieks stood. Even with the cloak, Kazuma could tell he was standing at attention with his arms locked firmly behind his back.
“Ah, is the task completed?” A nod. “Good. You can start to collate the briefs.”
Something was… wrong. No, not wrong, right? Kazuma was beginning to get a headache. The wine van Zieks’ kept was too strong, perhaps. Couldn’t he be bothered to open a window against the sharp scents and deep darknesses of his office?
The… Apprentice stood with complete rigidity in his frame. It was as if someone had replaced the man’s bones with immovable rods. Any expression on his face was impossible to even guess at due to the mask, and his lips never seemed to move from being pressed in a thin, neutral line.
It was odd. The prim, proper way he stood shouldn't stand out from the other members of Britain's prosecution, but when he compared it to someone like van Zieks in his head it didn't feel right. There wasn't any of that air of confidence to it. In all honesty, he looked more like a soldier.
“Are you—”
“Don’t speak to him,” van Zieks intoned.
“I don’t think you can decide who he does or doesn’t speak to,” Iris pouted.
“I can’t, in point of fact. Lord Stronghart is the one that demands it, and he happens to have the authority. He’s not to say a word to anyone outside of this office.”
The apprentice turned around and returned to the desk in the corner. Kazuma thought that it was ridiculous that the Chief Justice could have a power like that, but he wasn’t in the mood to get into a debate about the legal system of Britain with van Zieks so he kept quiet about it.
Kazuma sighed as he climbed up the steps to the exhibition stage. At least Susato was having fun catching up with Gina downstairs. In all honesty this trial was starting to wear him down.
He froze when he reached the top. van Zieks' masked apprentice knelt down next to the professor's machine, examining the grille in the floor.
"What are you doing here?" Kazuma blurted out.
In a flash, the apprentice was on his feet, spine ramrod straight. He looked at Kazuma, then back to the machine. I'm examining it.
Kazuma looked around. van Zieks wasn't anywhere to be seen. Perhaps the apprentice was just meant to report back with observations.
There was a chance that would make it more difficult for them in court.
"I don't mean to bother you, but-"
As he started towards the machine, the apprentice stepped in his way. When he tried the other direction, he blocked him again. You're not allowed to look at it.
"And the prosecution is?"
The apprentice's eyes flicked between the broken parts of the machine. ... No. They aren't. Huh. Was van Zieks breaking procedure, or had the apprentice kept his sense of curiosity?
… not that Kazuma knew he used to have one.
Well, since there was no one to stop him he might as well ask.
“Who are you?” Kazuma demanded. The apprentice blinked at him. He waited a few moments for a response, but nothing came. “You don’t have to do what they say, you know. You’re allowed to speak.”
The apprentice tilted his head, like this was a foreign concept to him. Then, a smile spread slowly across his face. “Apparent paradox.”
Kazuma took a half-step back as if the apprentice had actually struck him. The smile slipped off of his face rather quickly, like this wasn’t the reaction that he had been expecting. During Kazuma’s shock he spun around on his heels and walked away, the edge of his cloak fluttering like a shadow in candle light.
“Wait!” Kazuma started after him when he realized what was happening, but it was too late. He was already gone.
His hands were shaking. He never thought he’d hear his voice again.
Kazuma had always wanted van Zieks’ body rotting in a gutter to some degree, but now he was truly fucking livid.
Seeing him almost hit Ryuno- the apprentice’s face with his stupid hallowed chalices, the way he seemed to be there as nothing but someone to hand him files and open wine bottles was almost enough for Kazuma to burn the entire courthouse to smoldering ashes and then salt the earth. Susato stood close to him as a constant reminder that if he did try anything she would immediately throw him to the ground.
He could tell that she was just as angry as he was (not quite as much, but close enough). However, she also happened to be smarter and knew that they needed to get through this trial before Kazuma attempted any murder. The real question was if she would encourage him not to so they wouldn’t have to deal with the legal ramifications, or if she would help him cover it up.
It was maddening to carry on with the trial as normal when he wanted to do nothing more than vault over the prosecution’s bench and pull him away from van Zieks. And then The Professor came up and a schism of priorities so severe split Kazuma’s brain that the courtroom itself seemed to tilt in his vision.
By the time it was over, Susato kept one hand on his back and the other on his arm as if he might fall over at any given time. She wasn’t wrong.
The defense’s antechamber was just idle prattle, idle prattle, inane bullshit that he couldn’t care less about. Everything he cared about was in that courtroom. Then, van Zieks approached him and said to meet him in the courtroom in ten minutes.
Kazuma gave Susato a look that said “this is where we’re going to kill him, right?”
He sat through van Zieks’ “woe is me” spiel with his arms crossed behind the defense’s bench. The only reason he kept looking at him was so he could keep the full fury of his glare directed at him. Then, he unlocked the metal mask of the wax figure. And waited.
“Are you going to say anything?” van Zieks asked.
“Do you want me to say something?” Kazuma drawled.
“I merely thought… that you would perhaps have a reaction to it. One of the most prolific serial killers of the country is a member of your race.”
“And my father. Just a little side detail.”
“Well, yes, this too.”
“I already knew about that, Lord van Zieks.” Kazuma sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What were you hoping to gain from this? Sympathy?”
van Zieks snorted. “I don’t seek sympathy from the defense.”
“Then what? Perhaps an outburst against my own homeland? Validation for your wounded pride? Or, maybe, you wanted to trap me in some grand conspiracy and use me in the part of the framed. You know nothing about what is truly happening behind the curtains.”
“I won’t be lectured to by a foreign student,” he growled.
“Then wake up!” He threw his arm towards the masked apprentice, who somehow straightened his spine another inch. “Stronghart gives you an apprentice who wears a mask and isn’t allowed to speak to anyone but you, and you have no questions? Someone kills over a dozen people in your name and you let it happen because you think it lowers crime? You're letting someone profit off your own stubbornness."
“You speak of conspiracies that you have no idea as to the true depth of.”
“Then tell me. You people have been feeding us information through a drip as if we should be thanking you for morsels. You are revealing any of this because you think we deserve to know, it’s so you can string us along in your plan until the moment we might be useful. I’m not going to put up with it any longer. I am not a pawn to be moved in your grand machinations!”
Something shattered against the ground. Three pairs of eyes snapped back to the prosecution’s bench. Wine pooled at the floor like a puddle of blood from the broken remains of one of van Zieks’ wine bottles, and the apprentice had pressed his back up against the wall. He clutched at his face, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Kazuma stepped halfway out from behind the bench. He was searching for the right words to say, but most of it might not even be correct. Then a painful, dry sob tore through the empty courtroom, echoing harshly off the ivory, and the apprentice slid down the wall.
Susato was the first to act, rushing across the well to kneel down next to him. Kazuma saw the wine seeping into the fabric of her kimono.
“Just breathe,” Susato directed. She took off the cloak and tossed it to the side, already ruined from the alcohol. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”
Kazuma drew nearer, but kept his distance from the two. van Zieks had yet to make any moves. Susato took hold of the apprentice’s wrists and pulled his hands from his face, bringing the mask with it. Kazuma inhaled sharply as the face of Ryunosuke Naruhodo was finally revealed, eyes wide and distant.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “This is… I don’t know what’s happening.”
“That’s alright,” She repeated. The ‘we don’t know what’s happening either’ went unspoken. He scrubbed at his eyes, then rose to his feet using the wall as support. For the first time in almost a year he looked at Kazuma
"You're here." Ryunosuke said quietly.
"I am."
He flinched, a hand flying to his head. Something must have been physically hurting him.
“Do you remember me?” Kazuma dared to ask.
He looked at him, exhaling a soft breath. “Maybe I never entirely forgot you.”
"Why are you here?" He shook his head "How are you here?"
Ryunosuke's laugh was more of an exhale. "That's a long story."
"I'm sure it is." Ryunosuke seemed off-balance, so Kazuma didn't want to push him too hard. There would be a time for that, but it certainly wasn't under the incredulous gaze of Barok van Zieks.
There was something that wasn't sitting right with Kazuma. It was a happy moment to be sure, but it didn't feel triumphant in the way it should. More like it was crookedly balanced on the tip of a needle. More than anything Kazuma wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure that he wasn't an apparition, but the presence of Susato and van Zieks held him back.
It was strange to see him standing there as a prosecutor, but then again it should be strange seeing him in court at all. He wasn't meant to be a lawyer
"There was so much I wanted to tell you."
“You can come with us,” Kazuma said. “There’s room for you at my flat. You can tell me everything that happened.”
Ryunosuke’s fingers twitched. “I… have to speak with Lord van Zieks.” He probably wouldn’t have let me anyways.
As he walked away to stand in front of van Zieks, Kazuma knelt down to pick up the mask where he’d left it on the floor. What had happened to him?
Kazuma was pretty sure he was an idiot. Taking on representation for the Reaper, the very man who had in essence constructed his father’s coffin ten years ago. If he had any real sense in his head, he would turn the other cheek and let the man hang in the corrupt system he had enabled.
But then… for just a moment when he’d talked to him in prison, he saw something familiar. Somebody who thought no one would believe him and was prepared for a trial that would declare him guilty. He didn’t do it. At least, he didn’t kill Gregson, and Kazuma would be damned if he would let the real killer walk due to van Zieks’ own stubbornness. The good lord’s time would eventually come, but for now, Kazuma was stuck defending him.
That is, if he could even convince the bastard to let him represent him in the first place.
He and Susato walked through the sprawling halls leading to Lord Stronghart’s office. Gina had said something about a “bigwig lawman,” and if that wasn’t van Zieks it would have to be him. Voices echoed against the wall as they approached. Something about paperwork and making time. That was rather funny. Stronghart always seemed to be out of it. It became less funny when they went through the doors and found Ryunosuke speaking to Stronghart in a not too dissimilar way from van Zieks the day prior.
“Naruhodo-san!” Susato exclaimed next to him. The conversation stopped instantly, and Stronghart stepped in between them and Ryunosuke. He took up enough space that Ryunosuke had been all but obscured from view.
“You have impeccable timing.” What was it with this man and time? “I imagine you’re here to discuss the case of Lord van Zieks?”
“Sharp as ever, my lord,” Kazuma replied.
He nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you for your punctuality. The forensic science symposium demands that the trial be treated with some expediency.”
“It’s tomorrow, then?” Why would he expect anything different?
“Of course. This is a great time for introductions.” Lord Stronghart stepped to the side to reveal Ryunosuke once more. They met eyes, but neither said anything. “Ah, of course. You’re already acquainted, aren’t you?”
Ryunosuke actually responded. “Yes, my lord.”
Stronghart nodded again, flipping his pocket watch open. “Mr. Naruhodo here will be leading the prosecution in tomorrow’s trial.”
Wait.
What?
“Lord Stronghart,” Susato interjected. “I don’t wish to question your judgement but Naruhodo-san isn’t… he isn’t a lawyer.”
Stronghart waved a hand dismissively. “I assure you, the situation has been well examined by the judiciary. Mr. Naruhodo has already participated in the highest court of law in your own country, and the prosecution’s office has been rigorous in their training and examination whilst he was in their tutelage."
As Kazuma turned over this information in his head, Susato carried on. “But why Naruhodo-san? Surely there are other prosecutors who would be able to take this case?”
A beat. Stronghart looked at Ryunosuke expectantly, who drew his shoulders up higher. “It was a personal request.”
“A personal request?” Kazuma repeated.
Something that had always irked Kazuma ever since Ryunosuke’s memories had returned was how motionless his eyes were. He still carried that stiff posture and wide-eyed look, but his gaze stayed locked firmly to the space above Kazuma’s right shoulder. Now though, just for a second, they darted to one of the bookshelves.
“Yes.”
Susato didn’t seem convinced by this. “It seems rather exceptional that a personal request would be honored like that.”
“Of course it does,” Stronghart inserted himself back into the conversation. “The trial tomorrow is going to be unprecedented itself. After all, an outstanding member of the prosecution will be the defendant.”
So, he either wanted to remove the image of the British judiciary cannibalising itself through use of a foreigner, or he considered Ryunosuke a fine enough scapegoat to tear down a member of the aristocracy like van Zieks. It was quite amazing how quickly members of the British legal system lost Kazuma’s respect and then continued to dig deeper.
After conferring with Susato and Kazuma about the gun they had found at the scene, Stronghart sent a look to Ryunosuke and returned to his desk. It seemed that he was giving them some room to speak.
“I’m sorry for any trouble I might have caused you,” Ryunosuke said.
Kazuma shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just glad that you’re alright.” Apart from… “Have your memories completely returned?”
Ryunosuke nodded the way he did where he practically used his whole body. “Yes! It has. Including…” He trailed off.
“Including?” Susato prompted.
“Ah, it’s really nothing!” He smiled apologetically.
“Ryunosuke,” Kazuma started. “It’s not that I’m unhappy that you’re here but…” He glanced at Susato. She seemed to understand what he was thinking.
“How exactly did you end up in London?” She asked. “And with amnesia?”
Ryunosuke squared his jaw and quickly looked behind him. “There was a voice. For the past year, I’ve been hearing it in my head saying over and over that there was some… something important waiting for me here.”
That sounded crazy. Then again, Ryunosuke had always been the sentimental type. Perhaps he’d managed to keep some memory and misinterpreted it as some kind of voice. Kazuma sighed.
“You can go home, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to enter this practice you never planned on participating in.”
Another glance over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Kazuma desperately wanted to break composure and yell. You never wanted this. You wanted to write novels and translations, why are you here? Who was this all for? What was the reason?
“Can I ask a favor of you, Kazuma?” Ryunosuke asked.
“It’s only fair that I pay you back for the one you did me.”
He swallowed. “In the trial tomorrow, I want you to be there. As the defence counsel.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt that Lord van Zieks will be accepting my counsel,” Kazuma frowned. “The man seems to trust me as far as he could throw me.”
“Maybe, but he sees your skill in court.” Just like I do. Kazuma flinched. “Here.”
Ryunosuke dug around in his pockets. Kazuma saw a flash of a ghost as for a moment he got that look he did when he lost his university collar pin. Then, he relaxed and held a photograph towards him. Accepting it, he could see that it was an image of Gregson, van Zieks, and the man that hung in the painting in his office.
“Where is this from?” He asked.
“Gregson’s desk. Van Zieks is…” Ryunosuke frowned. “If you try a more direct approach, you might find more luck with getting him to agree to representation.”
“Direct… Ryunosuke, what are you talking about?”
“Please.” Ryunosuke’s expression could be described as nothing less than pure desperation. He pushed the photograph closer to Kazuma. “Visiting hours at the prison are almost over and I… I have to speak to the others at the prosecutors’ office.”
He rushed away, one hand almost brushing over Kazuma’s shoulder. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the movement of it. Just like that, he was gone, leaving nothing but a photo and a sensation of uneasiness in his wake.
Kazuma should have been leaving too, either to follow Ryunosuke and get him to say something that made sense or to follow his instructions and speak to van Zieks, but he couldn’t do anything except stand there. Something was lost. His trance gave Lord Stronghart enough time to come up from behind him.
“How was your reunion?” He asked.
“Fine. It’s just strange to see him here when I never expected to.” He never expected to see him like this.
"It's quite impressive." A smile flicked across Stronghart's eyes, because god forbid one ever came to his face. "He's a prodigy really. A few months of training and he has the ability to go toe to toe with you, and all with amnesia. Imagine what he could do at his full potential."
Kazuma's skin crawled. Something about the way Stronghart spoke about Ryunosuke made him deeply uncomfortable.
"I always believed that he had the makings of greatness," was all Kazuma could reply with. That’s what he’d said, hadn’t he? That Ryunosuke could be an amazing lawyer. He’d said he wanted him to be a lawyer.
"There's something you could learn from him, Mr. Asogi."
"Oh?"
"He knows where his place in the machine lies. It's best if you follow his lead."
His blood ran cold. He knew what was bothering him. When Stronghart looked at Ryunosuke, he saw a weapon.
"You'd better be on your way. I'm an hour behind schedule."
"Of course."
Kazuma wasn’t sneaking out. He was twenty four, a grown man, and he didn’t need to ask for anyone’s permission to go out in the evening. But maybe he was being a bit quiet as he planned a route around the flat that wouldn’t take him by anyone to the front door, and maybe the note he left behind wasn’t entirely truthful about where he was headed. But he wasn’t sneaking out.
Really. Even as he walked up to the doors of the prosecutions’ office as the light of the sun turned orange on the side of the buildings, looking around to see if there was anyone that could spot him.
As he expected, he found Ryunosuke in van Zieks’ office. He was facing the painting, back to Kazuma with something clutched in his hands that Kazuma couldn’t see. The only reason Kazuma even knew he was holding anything was because his arms weren’t locked behind his back.
“Ryunosuke?” He called.
He whirled around, once again standing at attention. Chin up, chest out, shoulders back. “Ah. Kazuma.”
“You can relax,” Kazuma said. “It’s just me.”
“I’m supposed to maintain decorum around members of the defense.”
Kazuma studied his face. Was that truly all it was, or was Ryunosuke simply reverting to that hyper-polite persona he always adopted when he was frightened? That thought was painful. He never used to do that when it was just the two of them.
“Is there something you need?” Ryunosuke asked. “The office is meant to be closing soon, but depending on the request I might be able to get it for you.”
“Ah, yes, um…” That was a lie. “Actually, no. I just wanted to talk to you.”
He blinked. “Talk… to me?”
“Yes. We haven’t been able to get a moment together since you regained your memories.”
“Oh.” He paused. “I don’t think I’m allowed to talk to you?”
“Why?”
“You’re the defense. I’m the prosecution. It wouldn’t do to have us colluding together, especially due to the forensic science symposium.”
His words sounded oddly stilted and rehearsed, like he was reading off one of the note cards they used to use to study together.
“Not about the trial, Ryunosuke, just us.”
He stared at Kazuma, unreadable. What had happened to the man whose face used to be an open book to the words in his head? Sometimes he felt as though he had never actually taken off the mask. When it became clear that Ryunosuke wasn’t going to respond for some reason or another, Kazuma filled in the silence himself.
"What did that thing you say to me mean?" He asked.
"When?"
"When you still had amnesia. App… appearance…"
"Apparent paradox?"
"Yes. That."
"Just a fun little tongue twister. A pretty simple one, too."
"I feel as though that's not the whole story."
"Well, what did you say to me before that?"
Kazuma frowned. He hardly saw how reminding him he was his own person related to paradoxes or tongue twisters. Ryunosuke smiled at him serenely, and for just a moment the corner of his lip twitched.
"I can see that perhaps I wasn’t very clear. I hope you can forgive me.” He said.
“Of course.” Kazuma should be the one apologizing. Something was lost. He gripped the hilt of Karuma to steady himself. “What I’m about to say isn’t related to the trial.”
Ryunosuke didn’t look convinced. “Okay…”
“I’m serious.”
“Alright, Kazuma.”
“Why are you here? With the prosecutors?”
“They took me in when I got here,” Ryunosuke’s words were measured, gentle, like he was explaining a concept to a small child.
“You don’t owe them anything, though. You can go home.” With me. “I know that you didn’t want to be a lawyer.”
The look Ryunosuke gave him was endlessly sad, the face of someone gazing at another who had no idea the true depth of what he was talking about. But unlike the eyes of van Zieks or even Stronghart, it offered sympathy. Pity.
"There isn't anyone outside the prosecutors' office for me but you." That wasn't… no. "Where else would I go?"
In front of him, Kazuma saw a young student who had been fully isolated from anyone who cared about him beyond the same way they would care about a tool. Kazuma had Susato, he had Mikotoba, hell, he had Sholmes in a way. Ryunosuke had… nothing. Not even a family back in Japan. Why hadn't Kazuma seen it before? How vulnerable he was to this kind of manipulation?
The government wouldn't make an effort to get him back. As far as they were concerned, he may as well have not existed. Gods, even Mikotoba had been willing to throw him to the dogs so that Kazuma could still go on this study tour. As soon as he had set foot on that steamship, Kazuma had set the wheels in motion for him to become this dead man walking, nothing more than a blade in the hands of the British Empire.
Oh. Apparent paradox.
He struggled for words. “I didn’t mean…” No. “If you would—” That was wrong too. “I could fix it if…” Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Kazuma was a student in university again, standing on stage and trembling as he couldn’t get a full sentence out, let alone the words he was actually meant to say. But the audience wasn’t a crowd of people heckling his performance. It was one man, watching him with endless patience and a look that said he’d aged a decade in the last year.
Somehow, that was worse.
“You don’t have to do this.” He said pitifully.
He shrugged. “They believe in me.”
“They don’t… believe in you, Ryunosuke, they think they can use you.”
He smiled, though it held no mirth, the corners of his lips just barely curled up. Kazuma felt a deep chill settle in his bones. “Is there really a difference between those things?”