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It happens by chance on a rare sunny afternoon in September. Summer’s air has started to chill, Fall approaching closely behind, and some leaves have already started to change colour, their bright greens turning into warm hues.
The apprentice is walking down a quiet lane not too far from the Supreme Court, getting a change of scenery from his mentor’s endless rows of caskets and some fresh air. The streets are lined with tall trees that fan over them with their long, lush branches. He watches as a lone leaf falls from above, his eyes following its direction as it flutters languidly through the air till it lands at the feet of a passing pedestrian.
The pedestrian appears to be a young man, though the apprentice doesn’t see his face as he’s already leaning downwards to pick up the fallen leaf. It’s a somewhat funny sight as the contents in the man’s grocery bag spills onto the pavement in exchange for the measly leaf he’s gained, and he lets out an ungraceful squawk when he finally takes notice. The apprentice finds himself having to hold back a chuckle. A stray can of beans rolls by his shoe, and he crouches down to pick it up.
“Ah, thank you,” the man says as he looks up, his face coming into view and—
The apprentice freezes.
When their eyes lock, everything seemingly comes to a halt and the apprentice finds himself unable to breathe, the wind knocked straight out of his lungs. It’s not recognition, he knows. As usual, his mind draws a blank and an empty supply of memories, but there’s something about the face he sees that draws him in, and he can’t bring himself to look away. The man’s features aren't like most others in this country—instead of sharp edges and pointy jaws, his face is round, cheeks soft with baby fat, his nose small and button-shaped, and then his eyes are so dark they look almost black. Just like the apprentice’s.
Something inside him stirs at the realisation.
“Erm…”
The voice breaks the apprentice out from his thoughts, and he finally notices the man looking at him unsurely, hand outstretched.
Ah, right—the can.
The apprentice passes the canned beans to its rightful owner and rises from his crouched position.
“Thank you,” the man repeats, placing the can back into his paper bag along with his other groceries before getting up. He carefully balances his bag onto one arm and extends his other in the apprentice’s direction. “I’m Ryunosuke Naruhodo,” he says, flashing a smile. The apprentice finds himself winded once again.
Ryunosuke… Naruhodo…
Ryunosuke Naruhodo…
The apprentice unconsciously licks his own lips. How good would it sound to have that name uttered from his very own tongue? It almost slips through his mouth before he catches it, and he mentally reprimands himself for nearly caving in to his irrational urges. He mustn't speak in public. He promised.
Ryunosuke Naruhodo unfortunately takes his silence the wrong way. “Oh, uh—sorry, that’s a bit of a mouthful huh. You can just call me Ryunosuke.” Ryunosuke’s smile starts to falter when he continues to remain quiet, and he feels a pang of guilt for leaving the guy hanging.
Surely a handshake wouldn’t hurt? Ryunosuke is starting to look a bit uncomfortable with his arm hovering awkwardly in the air…
The apprentice offers a gloved hand and gently clasps onto Ryunosuke’s clammy one. His heart starts accelerating and his skin burns at the point of contact, even with the layer of cloth between. It’s foreign. It’s strange. He hastily retracts his hand after giving a firm squeeze and tries not to look visibly shaken despite having a mask that covers most of his face.
Ryunosuke doesn’t seem to even notice, however, eyes fixed intently on his own hand that remains halfway between them. Perhaps he, too, found something unusual about their handshake. A few seconds tick by, and when Ryunosuke finally looks at the apprentice again, his gaze is hard. Serious.
Ryunosuke’s voice comes out a murmur, fear shaking its edges. “Is it you?”
The apprentice blinks. He doesn’t know what Ryunosuke is talking about, nor the answer to the question. Ultimately, he isn’t at liberty to speak so he just continues staring ahead in lieu of replying.
Ryunosuke’s face falls. “Of course it isn’t, sorry I—” He laughs but it comes out short and pained and broken, and the smile he wears doesn’t reach his eyes this time. “I just thought—” Ryunosuke ducks his head and takes a swipe at his own eyes, chest heaving as he breathes heavily. “Sorry.”
When Ryunosuke finally removes his hand from his face, his eyes are red-rimmed. It pains the apprentice to see. He doesn’t know why but his body screams with the need to pull the smaller man in and hold him gently. To soothe him. To protect him. But the apprentice knows better than to act on impulse. He crosses his arms and grips onto his sleeves instead, keeping his hands in place.
Ryunosuke smiles at him again, this time more tentative. “If it’s alright, may I… May I ask for your name?”
The apprentice shakes his head and his chest aches at the way Ryunosuke’s face deflates once again.
“Oh…”
The apprentice lightly taps Ryunosuke by the wrist, grabbing the man’s attention, before he gestures to his own throat and shakes his head once more. There’s a pause, and then realisation dawns in Ryunosuke’s eyes.
“You can’t speak.”
The apprentice nods.
“I see…” Ryunosuke says, eyeing the apprentice’s neck. There isn’t much visible with the cape in place, but he seems to get lost in thought, eyes growing distant.
In most circumstances, such intense scrutiny would only be unsettling for the apprentice, making him bristle and increasingly cautious for any oncoming danger, but oddly enough his body instinctively relaxes under Ryunosuke’s watchful gaze.
It’s calming, somehow.
A bell starts tolling in the distance all of a sudden, and the apprentice can see the instant it breaks Ryunosuke from his reverie. In that same moment, it occurs to him what that sound represents, and the apprentice curses internally.
“Big Ben,” Ryunosuke says quietly, looking out in the direction of the clock tower.
That’s right. Big Ben. That means it’s already four o’clock. The apprentice is going to be late if he doesn’t leave now. He spares Ryunosuke one final glance, drinking in the view and committing it to memory, before he sets off in the direction of the Supreme Court.
“Wha—hey!”
The apprentice can hear Ryunosuke’s calls from behind him, but he doesn’t slow down. His strides are long and swift, each step filled with purpose. He has a meeting at half past and he’s got to at least make it fifteen minutes prior to. It isn’t proper otherwise, and the apprentice is nothing if not disciplined.
He’s almost at the corner he needs to turn at when he’s jerked backwards, a pair of hands clutching frantically at his sleeve. “Wait!” he hears Ryunosuke wheeze, and reconsiders shaking the boy off, feeling a little sorry for him.
The apprentice sighs inwardly. Perhaps he could settle for being ten minutes early instead, for once. He turns to face Ryunosuke again and waits for the man to catch his breath.
“I just—Your mask, could I just—” Ryunosuke’s face scrunches strangely as he seems to struggle putting his sentence together. “Can I see you again?” Ryunosuke eventually asks. His eyes look glassy, the desperation in them as clear as day. “Please?” he adds, when the apprentice doesn’t immediately respond.
The apprentice hesitates. Lord Stronghart has told him not to speak to others outside the Prosecutor’s office, that all contact with anyone unrelated to work was to be minimal. The apprentice has followed all instructions to a tee so far, but there was something—different about Ryunosuke. The man piques his interest, and as much of a stickler to the rules as the apprentice is, he feels his resolve wavering. Ryunosuke makes him want to speak, to ask questions. To bare his soul, and to have Ryunosuke’s soul bared in return. He wants to touch him, to hold him. To know everything about him.
It’s frightening. Damning. Exhilarating.
Orders are meant to be followed and laws abided to keep things in place, and despite waking with no memories of his name or his person, the apprentice had felt these ideals embedded in the very marrow of his bones. Ryunosuke makes him want to break them.
He nods in agreement and though relief washes over Ryunosuke’s features, the man’s mind is already steps ahead, words pouring rapidly out of his mouth. “Thank you, okay—that’s—that’s good—really good—uh, well, where should we meet? Do you want to come over to my place? Iris really likes guests and makes the best tea, I’m sure she’d be happy to whip a blend up for you and—oh right. The address—I stay at 221B Baker Street, top floor, though it’s more of an attic, really, and—will you be able to remember all of that? It’s near Regent’s Park. Maybe I should draw out a map—”
The apprentice’s eyes widen at Ryunosuke’s sudden verbal onslaught but he’s more alarmed at how readily Ryunosuke’s giving out his personal information to a complete stranger (and if the apprentice feels like he may just do the same if Ryunosuke so much as asked, well—that’s different). He almost feels the need to chide the smaller man on the dangers of revealing his address, the thoughts of potential thieves or bandits or ill-natured men lurking in the shadows making him shake his head in disapproval.
Ryunosuke seems to misunderstand his gesture. “N-No? Not mine? Then—then here! I’ll come back here!” Ryunosuke insists, gripping the apprentice’s sleeve even tighter. “I’ll come back here, so, please…”
The look Ryunosuke is giving him is strikingly similar to that of a kicked puppy and the apprentice is already nodding along before he can decide otherwise. Surely that expression isn’t fair. How could anyone say no to that? But he can hardly question the injustice of it because Ryunosuke’s face lights up and suddenly the apprentice’s cheeks are on fire and his stomach is doing backflips and everything just feels right in the world.
“Great, then I’ll see you here. Is tomorrow okay with you?” Ryunosuke pulls out a pocket watch that’s chained to his belt and clicks it open. “It’s four now, so… Same time?”
Tomorrow is a Saturday. He has the weekend off. It shouldn’t be a problem. The apprentice signals his affirmation, and the grin Ryunosuke gives him in return is blinding.
“Oh wait, before you go—” Ryunosuke turns to fish something out from his coat pocket before shoving it in the apprentice’s face. “I’ll lend this to you,” he announces, “so you have to give it back to me the next time we meet, okay?”
It’s a bright red leaf, presumably the one Ryunosuke had picked up earlier when he dropped all his groceries. It’s pretty. The apprentice pinches it gingerly by the stem and deposits it in the pocket of his trousers.
“It’s a promise.”
*****
The apprentice makes it back to the Supreme Court five minutes before the assembly. Barok von Zieks raises an eyebrow at him when he arrives, undoubtedly perplexed that the apprentice isn’t the first one in the room for once. Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel bad for it. In fact, he’s feeling the best he’s ever been in all his time here.
There’s a small tug of a smile on the apprentice’s lips throughout the meeting. If anyone notices it, they don’t say anything.