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Ryuunosuke jerks awake with a gasp, nearly falling out of the chair he’s sitting in. His heart pounds as his mind frantically works to clear the cobwebs that had gathered while he was asleep. Between that and the sunlight pouring into the room from the bedside window, there’s no chance of drowsiness overtaking him and dragging him back into sleep. Even if he doesn’t feel particularly rested.
“I apologise,” a voice right beside him says. “It wasn’t my intention to wake you.”
It’s a voice Ryuunosuke knows very well, raspy as it is. Besides the affection that it’s begun to inspire in him recently, it also brings a flood of memories from the night before to his sleep-fogged brain. This time, there’s no saving the chair as he jumps to his feet and topples it over in his sudden burst of concern.
“Lord van Zieks!” He takes a step closer, hovering uncertainly beside the hospital bed. The prosecutor looks out of place in it, the rough but clean bedding a far cry from the expensive fabrics that must cover the man’s bed. The rest of the room is much the same: the simple metal frame for the bed, the worn wooden cabinets, the numerous cracks in the walls behind the bed do not suit the image of van Zieks Ryuunosuke has gotten used to. What’s even more unsuited to him is the air of illness that’s settled onto van Zieks overnight, the man looking more tired than he’s even seen him. It brings to mind the unhealthy pallor the prosecutor’s face had often taken on before justice finally came to knock on Stronghart’s door. Before van Zieks had allowed himself to finally relax. Still, he’s sure it’s an improvement from last night, when he’d just been shot. “It’s all right, I probably would have woken up on my own soon anyway.”
Ryuunosuke rights the chair and sits back down in it, taking the opportunity to look van Zieks over now that he’s wide awake. The man’s hair, usually so carefully styled, is unkempt, several long strands covering his forehead and falling into his eyes. Ryuunosuke’s hand twitches with the urge to brush them away–it’s an entirely inappropriate thought, considering what had landed him in the hospital in the first place. White bandages peek out from underneath the ruined shirt van Zieks had been wearing the night before, and Ryuunosuke’s chest clenches with fear. He’s had enough of his friends getting shot, frankly.
When he drags his eyes away from van Zieks’ shoulder, it’s to suddenly meet intense blue eyes. Ryuunosuke realises, with a jolt, that the entire time he’s been watching van Zieks, van Zieks has been doing the same to him. His face practically goes up in flames as blood rushes to it.
“Sorry!” his voice squeaks a little, embarrassingly. “I didn’t mean to stare–we’ve just been so worried.”
The way van Zieks’ mouth quirks up at one corner does nothing to dispel the fondness coursing through Ryuunosuke. And he does with this smile from van Zieks, tiny as it is, the same as what he’s done the others he’s seen: he catalogues it, cherishing the memory. It gives him a warm feeling, remembering them, knowing that he’s managed to inspire such an expression from him.
“I wasn’t bothered by it.” Another hint of a smile, accompanied by a long look at him. There’s something in van Zieks’ eyes that Ryuunosuke wishes he could interpret, though he gets the feeling it isn’t anything he should be worried about. Perhaps it has something to do with the way van Zieks hesitates now before asking, “Have you been here the entire night?”
Ryuunosuke rubs his fingertips against the side of his face, suddenly feeling bashful. It’s times like these that he feels particularly transparent, that he wonders if van Zieks has seen enough to guess at the feelings he harbours for him. “Ah… yes. We thought it best if one of us stayed here with you in case there was news.”
Van Zieks frowns, his right hand reaching up to touch his left shoulder and wincing when he brushes against the wound, even through the bandages. “I assume you mean you and Mr Asougi.”
“And Iris, Mr Holmes, Gina, and Miss Susato, too.”
Van Zieks’ brows rise steadily with each name Ryuunosuke throws out, unable to hide his surprise. Ryuunosuke smiles, leaning back in the chair, uncomfortable as the wooden back is. “I’m sure they’ll all stop by and see you later. Well, except for Gina and Kazuma. They’re probably still investigating everything they can.”
“They’ve apprehended the culprit?” van Zieks asks, looking back at Ryuunosuke sharply.
“Kazuma managed to catch up to him before he could escape. That’s… all I know right now.”
“Hm.” With little more than a sound of acknowledgement, van Zieks sags against the pillows at his back. His slight grimace of pain eases.
The inscrutability of that response isn’t exactly new. It’s a sound that Ryuunosuke’s all too familiar with after spending so much time with van Zieks. And it’s that newly gained knowledge that gives Ryuunosuke an edge here, picking up on the subtle shift in van Zieks’ expression. No doubt van Zieks himself would prefer it go unnoticed, but Ryuunosuke isn’t going to pretend at nonchalance when van Zieks knows very well how he operates by now.
Ryuunosuke hazards a guess. “That man who attacked you… did you recognize him?”
“You could say that,” van Zieks admits. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“You didn’t think I’d stay ignorant to your mannerisms after all this time, did you? I know you. ”
There’s a flicker of something that looks startlingly like warm regard in his eyes when he looks at Ryuunosuke consideringly, though it’s gone before Ryuunosuke has a chance to truly register it. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
He pauses, expression becoming sombre. “I believe the man is connected to someone I prosecuted in the past, before I took my leave of absence.”
Ryuunosuke’s mouth parts in surprise. “But that was so long ago! Why would they attack you now?”
Van Zieks’ mouth twists with dark humour. “That, at least, I have an answer for,” he says with a sigh. “Though the rumours around the Reaper have been formally dispelled, there are still some who would believe I am the true mastermind and pinned the blame on the former Lord Stronghart to escape the consequences.”
Anger burns swiftly through Ryuunosuke. It’s infuriating, knowing how Stronghart’s scheming has had such a negative impact on van Zieks’ life, and still continues to cause him trouble even after the prosecutor’s name has been cleared. “Only those who know nothing of your character would believe such a thing,” he says fiercely, leaning forward. “If I hear any talk of it around London, I’ll set those people straight.”
“Mr Naruhodou.” Stern as van Zieks sounds, Ryuunosuke doesn’t think he’s imagining the way his expression softens. “Much as I appreciate the sentiment–”
Abruptly, van Zieks breaks off with a cough, body shaking with the effort. Ryuunosuke jumps to his feet, rushing toward the cabinet that stands flush against the wall. Quickly, he pours a cup of water from the jug waiting there and carries it to van Zieks. It’s difficult to watch as the proud prosecutor’s hand shakes when he takes the cup, nearly spilling the water all over the bed. He makes a split-second decision then, snatching the cup back and then pressing the rim to van Zieks’ lips, ignoring the man’s protests.
“The nurse did mention you might have some trouble while your shoulder’s recovering. I know you think it’s degrading, but it isn’t a crime to depend on others who want to help, you know.”
He waits with bated breath as van Zieks processes his words. Gradually, the scowl begins to fade.
“Fine.” It’s incredible how much annoyance the man could pack into one word. Ryuunosuke has to admire him for it. “I’ll accept the help, but only for the time being.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Under Ryuunosuke’s watchful gaze, van Zieks takes careful sips of the water until finally, he shakes his head slightly signalling he’s had enough. Ryuunosuke sets the cup down, then busies himself with readjusting the pillows on the bed. By the time he’s done, van Zieks looks more amused than annoyed.
“You’re fussing. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“There simply weren’t enough chances for it until now,” Ryuunosuke says with forced cheer. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it, Lord van Zieks. We can’t afford to lose one of London’s best prosecutors when there’s still so much work left to do.”
“Your impudence is shocking.” There’s no heat at all in van Zieks’ voice. And even if there were, it’d be severely undercut by the slight smile forming on his lips. “Very well. I can see no harm in it, when it’ll only be a few days.”
Ryuunosuke beams at him. “Exactly.”
Except, the process is not an easy one. Despite van Zieks’ very optimistic prediction that he would be back on his feet within days, his shoulder takes longer to recover than expected, and Ryuunosuke can see the man chafing at being coddled this way, when he’d handled the first day with surprising good humour.
All but that one time, when Ryuunosuke had walked into the hospital room to find van Zieks in the midst of changing, his torso bare while he picked up the clean dress shirt that had been draped on the bed. Any embarrassment Ryuunosuke would have felt in that moment had been promptly chased away by a sharp sense of shock at the number of scars on the prosecutor’s pale skin. Van Zieks had looked horrified then, Ryuunosuke remembers. A scowl had twisted his expression into something more reminiscent of the old Reaper he had been first introduced to a year ago, and he had bristled with something close to hostility as he yanked his dress shirt on. The scars had disappeared under the fabric, more of them seemingly erased with each button done up, but Ryuunosuke had known then he wouldn’t be able to forget them.
At the time, his surprise had kept him from giving the scars much thought, and van Zieks’ curt “Never you mind” had been effective at cutting off any further inquiries. It’s been days since then–plenty of time for Ryuunosuke to do some good old fashioned sleuthing. Holmes had confirmed his suspicions with unexpected sobriety; there had been multiple attacks on van Zieks in the early years of his career, as his reputation as the Reaper began to spread. Ryuunosuke can only conclude that the scars he’d seen had come from those attacks. He wonders then if van Zieks might have once carried those scars with pride, thinking that wearing the Reaper’s mantle kept London safer, only to feel the opposite now that he knows the truth. Whatever he had once believed, it’s certainly clear that Ryuunosuke seeing those scars had upset the prosecutor.
The way van Zieks had been so quick to cover himself up upsets Ryuunosuke in a way that he doesn’t expect, once he’s had time to sit with his thoughts. Van Zieks is an attractive man. Ryuunosuke’s been aware of this since the beginning, though the prosecutor’s hatred of his people had swiftly snuffed out any attraction he’d felt. And it had remained that way, until he began to see the side of him that van Zieks had so carefully kept behind his walls. That man had been worthy of respect and admiration.
No, the scars, while shocking, do not detract from van Zieks’ allure at all, in Ryuunosuke’s opinion. When he thinks of those scars, he’s reminded of a certain kind of pottery he’d seen often back in Japan–the ones that are whole in appearance, but have been mended with a special kind of lacquer. Van Zieks’ scars stand out starkly against his skin like the gold powder of the lacquer does against the surface of those pottery, but that isn’t the only parallel Ryuunosuke can draw now that the association’s there in his mind. Just as the pottery had likely been broken by an unfortunate accident, something that was not meant to happen, van Zieks’ pale skin should not have been broken by blade and bullet. And in both cases, the misfortune had not meant the end of their life either, both having been put together again in some way or the other.
Ryuunosuke prefers to see the scars as signs of the many difficult trials the prosecutor must have faced while bearing the Reaper moniker, highlighting his dedication to the cause. Even if it had been a part of Stronghart’s mechanisms in the end–Ryuunosuke chest aches at the very thought of him facing all of this alone over the years–van Zieks’ intent is what makes those scars beautiful and honourable in Ryuunosuke’s eyes. Perhaps in the right lighting, those marks might shine golden, too.
He can also admit that his feelings for the prosecutor might make him more than a little biassed.
It only takes a week before van Zieks has enough and checks out of the hospital, to no one’s surprise. From there it only gets worse, the prosecutor ignoring all of their advice and returning to the office before his wounds have finished healing. And no amount of pleading seems to budge the man, to Ryuunosuke’s dismay. Going through paperwork isn’t the most strenuous of activities, but Ryuunosuke still fears that the prosecutor may ruin his health by overworking himself.
“The worst part of it all is,” Ryuunosuke says to Susato with mounting frustration, after two days have passed, “I’ve realised this is exactly how he went about things the first time around. He simply carried on at the Prosecutor’s Office when he should have been recovering from those awful attacks!”
“Yes…as terrible as it is to think about, it really isn’t as surprising as it should be.” Susato’s eyes are filled with a sad sort of empathy as she watches him pace furiously before his desk. The attic above Holmes’ suite, while spacious enough for the two of them, still has a limited amount of room in which to move, especially with Ryuunosuke’s clutter beginning to spread out from his desk area, despite Susato’s best efforts. “Lord van Zieks does have that kind of personality, doesn’t he? And he must have been alone all that time, as well.”
Ryuunosuke stops, opening his mouth to answer, but then closes it without a word a moment later. She’s right; With his brother, his sister-in-law, and Asougi Genshin gone in one fell swoop, van Zieks wouldn’t have had anyone to look out for his well being. To tell him when he was being unreasonable.
Dragging a hand down his face, Ryuunosuke sighs. “He’s not alone anymore. If he won’t listen now, I’ll find some way to wear him down until he does.”
Susato’s hand lifts to cover her mouth as she smiles, eyes dancing with mischief. “You could always ask Gina to help you convince him.”
That startles a laugh out of him. He turns to smile at her, feeling his displeasure melt away. Impossible as it should be for them all to fit together this way, his makeshift family at 221B Baker Street seems to have a sort of calming effect on him. Well, Susato and Iris do, at least. With Holmes, it always depends on what the man is up to at the moment, but he wouldn’t trade any of them for the world.
“We could do that, but we’re trying to help Lord van Zieks, not give him a bigger headache to deal with.”
Susato titters in reply. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. While you consider your options, you can open your mail. A letter from Souseki-san arrived today.”
Ryuunosuke takes the letter from her, frowning slightly when he sees the envelope is addressed only to him. His confusion clears when he catches sight of the letter in her hands, the writing on it a match for the one on his. “He wrote separate letters for us?”
“Yes,” Susato replies, looking pleased as her eyes skim over the page. “He included the book recommendations I asked for last time.”
Right. Books. It’s unfortunately something that he does not share their enthusiasm for. Ryuunosuke tries not to shudder at the memory of Souseki’s room, and the way the books had covered nearly every available surface of that tiny, dark space.
“Erm, that’s great, Susato-san.” Knowing he didn’t sound sufficiently thrilled for her, Ryuunosuke hastily opens his own letter to escape the pointed look she’s no doubt giving him now.
To Locum Student Mr Naruhodou Esquire, the letter begins predictably. Good to know some things just don’t change, Ryuunosuke thinks with a touch of fond exasperation. He can practically hear the author’s quavering voice as he reads the letter, picturing vividly the wild gestures that would accompany the words. Aside from Souseki’s long-winded descriptions of the new cats he’s taken in, there isn’t anything particularly personal in the letter; it’s filled with the customary mentions of changes in the weather and the influx of sho-chiku-bai patterns on kimono that always accompanies the arrival of a new year. Still, Ryuunosuke’s pleased at the effort to keep in touch.
Mother has a kimono like that, Ryuunosuke remembers as he folds the letter up and slides it back into the envelope. A formal one that she often wears at this time of the year. Even Ryuunosuke, who doesn’t have much of an eye for fashion and hasn’t seen the kimono in question in several years, remembers the striking way the gold and green threads had stood out against the black of the fabric. The only other kimono his mother favours as much at the beginning of the year is the one with the cranes. Then again, there’s a reason the crane is such a popular pattern across multiple seasons. Auspicious, not to mention their association with longer lives–
Ryuunosuke stops short. Long lives. A memory resurfaces in his mind: he and his parents folding paper cranes together when he was a child, his often turning out oddly crooked until his parents corrected him. While he had never really taken to the hobby, he still recalls the stories he’d been told all those years ago.
“That’s it!” he exclaims, whirling around to face Susato again. When she jumps, nearly dropping the paper in her hands, he feels chagrined for all of a second before the excitement overtakes him again. His words tumble out in a rush of Japanese. “Susato-san, do you still have any washi left?”
“I…I do,” she says, still clutching the letter to her chest. “But, Naruhodou-san, whatever do you need it for?”
He grins. “I have an idea.”
-*-
Ryuunosuke puts his plan into action the next afternoon. Van Zieks barely glances at him when he sweeps into the Prosecutor’s Office–and if that isn’t a sign that he’s been here too often, then he doesn’t know what is–returning his gaze to the documents in front of him. The prosecutor’s been hard at work, judging from the state of his desk. Already, the pile of paper that had been stacked dangerously high the day before has been cut in half to a much more reasonable size. No doubt Kazuma had lent a hand, but the dark circles under van Zieks’ eyes tell Ryuunosuke it was his work. Ryuunosuke would admire the man’s work ethic far more if he wasn’t visibly ruining his own health to accomplish so much in a short amount of time.
“If you came all this way to lecture me again, Mr Naruhodou, you should know already that you’re wasting your time,” he says, quill gliding across the paper he’s writing on. A report of some kind, from what Ryuunosuke can see of it, when he gets close enough.
“Then you’ll be glad to know I’m not here for that.” Ryuunosuke sets a jar on the prosecutor’s desk with a flourish, and steps back to watch van Zieks’ face with anticipation. He’s not disappointed at all: the prosecutor stares at the jar with narrowed eyes, clearly puzzled, and when he finally looks back at Ryuunosuke, he looks distinctly unamused. Ryuunosuke bites back a smile.
“What nonsense are you up to now?” Exasperation threads through van Zieks’ voice, but Ryuunosuke doesn’t detect any hint of actual annoyance or anger.
Instead of answering, Ryuunosuke lifts the lid off the jar. It’s a lovely bit of workmanship, the floral and avian engravings in the metal circling around the small knob, twining up the handle, and around the side of the lid. The theme of the embellishments also matches the items it’ll contain very well–one of the reasons Ryuunosuke had chosen this particular jar in the first place, instead of picking out an ordinary glass jar that would have served the same purpose just as well without making a dent in Ryuunosuke’s allowance. But he had hesitated at giving van Zieks something so plain as a gift, and one that he is hoping will make an important point, too. So with Iris’ help, Ryuunosuke had searched the shops for something that wouldn’t look too out of place in van Zieks’ office, surrounded by all the ornate decorations that show the man’s wealth and status.
Ryuunosuke holds the orizuru he’d folded earlier that morning up by its tail, smiling at the way the sunlight bounces off the colourful paper. While he wouldn’t have picked the pink and gold tones himself, he knows he has no right to complain about his choices when it’s only by Susato’s generosity that he’s able to bring his idea to fruition like this.
“For every day that you work instead of rest, I’ll put one of these inside the jar,” he says before doing exactly that. The lone crane looks small and lonely in the glass container, but given how stubborn van Zieks is, Ryuunosuke knows that it will soon be joined by the rest of its flock.
There’s a question in van Zieks’ eyes, if not on his lips, but Ryuunosuke simply smiles and replaces the lid. He wonders how many cranes will join their friend before van Zieks grows curious enough to ask.
“Ah, and these are for you,” he adds, placing a bag of biscuits onto the desk beside the jar. “Iris baked them this morning. According to her, it’d be rude of me to gift you a biscuit barrel without any biscuits, even if I am using it for something else.”
The sudden glimmer of interest in van Zieks’ eyes draws a smirk out of Ryuunosuke. No matter how much the prosecutor tries to hide his sweet tooth from them, it was always a lost cause with Holmes and Iris on the case. Not to mention van Zieks’ own cook had given his secret away the first time Ryuunosuke visited him at his town house. Ryuunosuke had been delighted by the information; his host had felt quite the opposite.
“Please give my thanks to Miss Watson.” There’s an unmistakable warmth in his tone that never fails to appear whenever Iris is involved, and Ryuunosuke’s pleased to hear it every time. It’s difficult to believe that van Zieks had struggled to connect to her not too long ago.
“Don’t worry, I will,” Ryuunosuke says, turning to leave.
“Already leaving?” Unexpectedly, van Zieks’ voice stops him before he gets very far. The prosecutor’s brow is furrowed when Ryuunosuke looks at him, and if Ryuunosuke didn’t know any better, he would say the man looks unsettled. “How unexpected. You usually make a nuisance of yourself for much longer.”
Ryuunosuke chuckles. “I know, it must be a relief to you. I promised Iris I’d help her with something today, or else I’d stay. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He might even manage to convince the prosecutor to take a break for lunch next time, if he’s convincing enough.
A painful sort of hope flares to life in him when van Zieks relaxes visibly at his reassurance, but Ryuunosuke quashes that feeling with the ease of practice. There have been times over the past few months, little moments like these, when Ryuunosuke has briefly entertained the possibility that van Zieks might return his affections, but he never allows those thoughts to take root too deeply. He likes what he and van Zieks have right now, and the prosecutor’s lingering wariness over any kind of emotional vulnerability makes it all too likely that he’d spook like a horse with a thrown shoe. One day, when van Zieks has grown more comfortable, Ryuunosuke thinks he would dare to try his luck.
“Very well,” van Zieks murmurs. “I won’t keep you any longer, if Miss Watson is waiting for you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, my Lord.”
When he reaches the door, Ryuunosuke can’t resist taking one last peek over his shoulder. Unaware he’s being watched, van Zieks picks up the jar, turning it in his hands to get a better look at the crane inside. Smiling, Ryuunosuke leaves him to it.
With each day that passes after that, Ryuunosuke brings a new paper crane for van Zieks, just as he’d promised. To his surprise, the jar hasn’t been moved from the desk to the shelves, where it wouldn’t be in the way. Instead, it sits beside the candelabra, where the prosecutor would see it whenever he looks up. Seeing his gift in its place of prominence on the desk sparks a warmth in Ryuunosuke’s chest every time, and while he manages to keep it from growing into a fire too wild to contain, this time he can’t completely stamp out the embers.
His feelings must be written all over his face. There’s no doubt in Ryuunosuke’s mind that his closest friends have already figured it out. Susato hasn’t complained even a little about him using up all the washi she has left, which in itself is suspicious. There’s also the peculiar look Kazuma always gets whenever he catches the two of them together, as if he can’t decide how he feels about the rapid growth of their relationship. And of course Holmes and Iris would have guessed it before anyone else. The only question is, whether or not van Zieks himself has noticed, too.
Ryuunosuke unexpectedly gets the answer to that question a few short days later.
“You never explained what these paper constructions mean. These… orizuru you called them,” van Zieks says, watching Ryuunosuke place a new crane into the jar with great care. There’s a sizable flock by now, mostly in the bright pinks and gold that Susato favours, but there are a few other colours–orange, red, cream, and green–peppered here and there. Overall, they don’t look half bad, in Ryuunosuke’s humble opinion. He’d put extra care and time into folding them so that not a single one would come out like the lopsided attempts of his childhood.
“Hmm I didn’t?” The innocent tone Ryuunosuke tries for clearly doesn’t work, judging by the disdainful arch of van Zieks’ brow.
“No, you didn’t,” van Zieks retorts, tapping a finger impatiently against his arm. “As you very well know.”
Ryuunosuke has to give it to him; he’d thought van Zieks would give in to his curiosity much sooner. Now that he’s asked, though, there’s no point in holding the information back. Teasing aside, that is. But first, Ryuunosuke walks over to the shelf where the prosecutor’s began keeping a pair of tea cups since Iris regularly began sending him over with a flask of her special blends. He carries everything over to the desk, pouring them both a cup of fragrant tea.
“Cranes live for a thousand years, turtles for ten thousand years,” Ryuunosuke quotes while sliding the cup and saucer across the desk to him. “That’s a saying we have back home. With each crane I give you, I’m increasing your lifespan a little.” He grins, suddenly sheepish. “Well, that was the idea, anyway. If you insist on working yourself to the bone, then I must insist on returning some of your good health to you this way.”
Van Zieks says nothing in reply. It had seemed like such a good idea, and Ryuunosuke had thrown himself into it with his whole heart. Now that he’s explaining it to van Zieks, though, he wonders if it was a childish flight of fancy after all. The longer van Zieks remains silent, the more Ryuunosuke’s heart sinks, until he finally can’t take it any longer.
It seems all too likely now that he’s been reading too much into things. Even though he’s done his best to keep his expectations reasonable, it still hurts. “You… you, erm, don’t have to keep them, if you don’t want them.” Despite his best efforts, his voice still trembles a little.
“What?” Ryuunosuke looks up. Van Zieks’ lips are parted in surprise, his hands frozen around the teacup they’re holding. They stare at each other, both unbalanced, as if they’d lost the page in a book they’d been reading together and are left scrambling to find it again.
Ryuunosuke says slowly, “I thought you found it frivolous.”
“I never said such a thing.”
Oh, Ryuunosuke thinks with amazement, he’s angry. Rather than alarming him, the prosecutor’s sharp tone has the opposite effect. It cuts through his hurt, clearing the prickly bramble away so that the hope can bubble back in and take up that space in his chest again. He doesn’t have it in him to hide any of what he’s feeling at the moment, not even when van Zieks’ harsh, offended glare softens and turns scrutinising instead.
Then van Zieks sighs, placing the cup and saucer down with a click. “Perhaps the fault lies with me, if I have ever given you reason to think me ungrateful, Mr Naruhodou.” He hesitates. “Your gift is…a thoughtful one. I knew there had to be some meaning behind it, but you’ve surprised me yet again.”
“As long as you like it.” Ryuunosuke’s trembling again, but for a different reason this time.
The silence between them now is a far cry from the earlier strained one. It falls softly, light and comfortable rather than heavy and suffocating, giving them both a chance to regain their bearings. Ryuunosuke thinks he can hear the thudding of his heart in that quiet, and each ba-bump sounds like may-be. To calm himself, he takes a big gulp of his tea, and nearly chokes on it.
He’s saved from further embarrassment when van Zieks speaks again. “How many of those cranes do you plan to make?”
It’s a safe question. Ryuunosuke latches onto it like a lifeline. “Supposedly, if you fold a thousand of them, the gods will grant you a wish for your patience and hard work.”
“A thousand!” Van Zieks sits up in shock. “Surely there is no need to make so many. You would never fit all of them into this jar.”
“Haah,” Ryuunosuke exhales a soft laugh. “I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. We don’t have enough washi--that’s the paper–for the thousand anyway.”
Contemplatively, van Zieks turns his gaze on the already completed cranes, their colours and patterns still clearly visible through the clear glass of the jar. With a light touch, he traces the engravings on the metal lid with a finger. Ryuunosuke watches, mesmerised, and nearly misses the question van Zieks asks him. “And what would you wish for, if you did have enough to complete such a task, Mr Naruhodou?”
Ryuunosuke slides his gaze up to meet van Zieks’. Once, he had believed the man to be incredibly cold, but he sees none of the heartless Reaper’s mask in him now, whatever the London public might still think. “I would wish for the people of London to be kinder to you,” he says quietly, clasping his hands together in front of his cup. “Or… perhaps, I would wish for you to be kinder to yourself. I know you only want to appease the ones who are still frightened, and show them you aren’t the Reaper by working so tirelessly, but I wish you wouldn’t bother. It isn’t fair to you.”
All of it comes out in a rush as he squeezes his eyes shut. It was inevitable that his frustration at the situation would eventually spill out like this, the way it’s been building steadily since van Zieks was attacked. Ryuunosuke can’t regret it, because everything he said was true.
Cool fingers tilt his chin up, and Ryuunosuke’s eyes fly open in surprise. He’s greeted by the same expression he’d caught on van Zieks’ face that day in the hospital, only this time their faces are so close he can’t misread the affection in his eyes. Though the rest of his body seems to freeze, barely daring to breathe, Ryuunosuke’s heart races frantically as he struggles to make sense of everything. This couldn’t possibly be happening. And yet it is. The reality of van Zieks leaning in slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, hits Ryuunosuke like a strike of lightning, emboldening him. He gathers up his courage and wraps it around himself like a cloak, then meets van Zieks halfway.
The kiss is a mere touch of the lips, but it lingers, neither of them willing to break the connection, light as it is. Finally, van Zieks moves away with a sigh, only to press their foreheads together, his hand cupping the back of Ryuunosuke’s neck.
“I have no need for such a wish when I have you, my staunch defender, looking out for me,” van Zieks says softly, breath ghosting over Ryuunosuke’s lips and making him shiver.
Still dazed and in disbelief, Ryuunosuke replies just as softly, “As your staunch defender, I can’t help but want it for you anyway. I do not want to hear you’ve been shot at, or otherwise injured again.”
At that, van Zieks does pull back with a frown. Ryuunosuke immediately misses the contact. “While I regret causing you distress with my injury, Mr Naruhodou, I cannot regret that this has happened as a result of it.”
A light flush begins working its way up Ryuunosuke’s chest and neck, reaching his cheeks. “I can’t regret it either. Not when, well. I thought I was just imagining things for a while.” He smiles, scratching at his cheek. “I was going to wait longer before I told you.”
Still cradling Ryuunosuke’s nape in one hand, van Zieks hums lightly. “Even without knowing if I felt the same?”
“If I didn’t think my feelings would become a burden to you,” he replies immediately and with a conviction that has van Zieks’ gaze softening again.
“Brave, as well as staunch.” Ryuunosuke nearly squirms at the compliments, delivered in van Zieks’ frank tones. “Though that’s hardly a surprise to anyone who has seen your trials first hand.
“I was never planning to make my… affections known to you,” van Zieks admits a moment later. Remorse, or guilt perhaps, weighs his small smile down, turning it into a frown. “I thought your friendship was enough to ask for, after the deplorable way I treated you and your companions for the better part of a year.”
Wordlessly, Ryuunosuke shifts in his chair. Their knees press together, an extra point of contact, as he reaches for van Zieks’ free hand and holds it between his own. “It was deplorable, but you apologised for it. And you’ve changed since then. Miss Susato and Kazuma have all noticed it, too.”
“You are far too forgiving,” van Zieks says as he looks down at their hands, sounding both weary and fond. “And kind, though it is a trait that I admire most about you. When you spoke earlier about your gift, I found that I could no longer hold back.”
Ryuunosuke’s laugh is quiet and tremulous, but still filled with mirth. “I was very obvious about my feelings, wasn’t I? I thought as much.” On the plus side, he no longer has to worry about the prosecutor catching on too quickly. Being demonstrative around strangers would probably be pushing it too far, but when it’s just him and van Zieks, suddenly he has so much space to work with. It’s akin to being given a new room that he can fill with all the sentimental knick-knacks, paper the walls with his overflowing affection as he so desires. It’s a liberating thought.
“I am grateful for it. Knowing what I do now, I believe it would have been most regrettable if the chance to share this with you had been allowed to slip away.”
There isn’t much Ryuunosuke can say to that. So he grabs a fistful of the prosecutor’s coat and tugs him down for another kiss as his reply instead. Van Zieks, to Ryuunosuke’s delighted satisfaction, has no complaints about this whatsoever.
-*-
They’ve been sitting together on the chaise for some time, both of them engrossed in their own reading, when van Zieks’ hand moves to Ryuunosuke’s knee, drawing his attention in that newly intimate way that Ryuunosuke’s grown to love in the past few weeks. Sometimes, the prosecutor still hesitates to initiate contact like this, but slowly, that has been changing.
“I forgot to ask earlier, if you brought the paper with you,” van Zieks says, bending close to speak into Ryuunosuke’ ear.
Ryuunosuke hums an affirmation. “You have good timing. I only had two sheets left. If you’d asked any later, I would have used them all up.”
Van Zieks’ low chuckle tickles at his ear before Ryuunosuke feels the prosecutor sit back. “How fortunate that it worked out this way.”
In protest, Ryuunosuke shifts right along with him, so that he’s still leaning heavily against van Zieks’ shoulder–now fully healed, to everyone’s relief. He knows he’ll have to get up eventually to fetch the washi, but he’s content right where he is now. It’s a rare day off for the both of them, no obligations to their work or friends to keep them from spending the time together in van Ziek’s town house. Away from any prying eyes, Ryuunosuke’s free to push into van Zieks’ space as much as he likes, and more importantly, van Zieks lets him do it.
“What did you need the washi for anyway?” he asks, giving up on his novel and setting it aside. It’s a bit of a boring read, despite being touted as a ghost story, and Ryuunosuke wonders if he should have picked up an issue of the Randst Magazine instead, like van Zieks did. The prosecutor has a veritable stack of them now, all older issues that he’d hunted down in an effort to read Iris’ stories without even telling the young author. Ryuunosuke shouldn’t find it so endearing, but he does.
Van Zieks carefully sets the issue he’s holding aside. “If you’re amenable to teaching me, I would like to fold those last two into cranes with you.”
Surprised, Ryuunosuke peels himself away from van Zieks’ side to look at him. “Not that I’m displeased about it, but why the sudden interest?”
“Am I not allowed to be curious when a certain barrister has been gifting me with so many of them?” The words are nonchalant as can be, but there’s an odd undertone to them that has Ryuunosuke squinting at van Zieks suspiciously.
“You’re lying. Or leaving something out,” Ryuunosuke decides.
Van Zieks lets out an annoyed huff, before shaking his head with a smile. “You’ve become too proficient at seeing through me, Mr Naruhodou.”
Ryuunosuke slowly leans back into his side, smiling up at him. “You don’t really mind it.”
“I don’t,” van Zieks allows, with a gentle squeeze to Ryuunosuke’s knee to punctuate it. “Fine. You were right, I do have a reason for it. I have been contemplating those folktales of yours. When I inquired after them, Miss Mikotoba informed me that longevity isn’t the only thing cranes represent to your culture.”
Were he not so distracted by the gentle sweep of van Zieks’ thumb against his knee, a touch that he can feel acutely even through the fabric, Ryuunosuke would be more alarmed by the thought of Susato passing information to van Zieks.
“Specifically, two cranes are a symbol of loyalty, are they not, as they mate for life,” van Zieks continues, his eyes not looking away from Ryuunosuke’s at all. “I’d like to set aside the two we make today, for safekeeping for those reasons.”
In his mind’s eye, he imagines two colourful paper cranes sitting side by side on van Zieks’ bedside table, catching the softer light of dawn as the prosecutor moves about getting ready each morning. The idea is a charming one, Ryuunosuke has to admit. And that’s without taking into account all that van Zieks is saying by making such a gesture in the first place.
“All right,” Ryuunosuke says, plucking van Zieks’ hand from its perch on his knee. He kisses the prosecutor’s knuckles lightly, just to watch the normally unflappable man’s cheek grow pink with pleasure. “We can get started now.”