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He’d gone to visit his father’s grave the day before.
Clearing his father’s name helped ease the pain, but it also made Kazuma feel his loss all the more keenly. Every minute that passed was one more minute without his father, on and on into perpetuity.
It was even worse here, in the Prosecutor’s Office, with van Zieks just across the room. The pen in Kazuma’s hand snapped, and he cast the pieces aside.
Without van Zieks, his father might still be alive. Barok van Zieks might not be the Reaper in truth, but he was still the man who prosecuted the case. His blindness to the truth led him to pass down a false sentence. He took Kazuma’s father away from him as much as Stronghart and Jigoku did.
“Is something on your mind, Asogi? You’ve seemed ill at ease all day.”
The sound of his voice made Kazuma nearly snap another pen. That man dared to ask… to sound so concerned… Kazuma gritted his teeth and kept his head down. “I visited my father’s grave yesterday.”
“I see.”
Now his voice was somber. As if he understood. Kazuma’s blood boiled. “Have you been to his grave since the trial?” The steadiness of his own voice surprised him. Though if this man dared to think he was worthy of visiting Genshin Asogi’s grave after what he’d done…
Van Zieks was quiet for a moment. At last, he replied. “No.”
“Why not?” The fact that he hadn’t gone didn’t make Kazuma feel any better. “Can’t you face the man you had killed?”
He turned in time to see van Zieks flinch. It gave him a bitter sort of satisfaction.
“Can’t you face what you’ve done, van Zieks? Are you hoping if you ignore it, it’ll all go away?”
“I know better than that,” van Zieks said. “Nothing can undo the mistake I made.”
“Then how can you just sit there? How can you act like everything is fine?”
“What do you expect me to do? What can I do? No one can change the past.” His voice cracked. “Nothing I do will ever bring Genshin back.”
How dare he act like he was grieving? “So you’ll just move on,” Kazuma said. It was the only thing either of them could do, but he hated that. “Is it that easy to get over condemning an innocent man to death?”
Nothing would bring his father back, no matter how hard he worked or how much he cried or how many prayers he offered, and it was this man’s fault, this man who had the audacity to move on with his own life when Genshin Asogi couldn’t.
“If it’s that easy to get over having an innocent man executed,” Kazuma hissed, “then I wish you’d been declared guilty too. After all, I’d just get over it, like you’re getting over his death, right?! Maybe if you were dead, my father’s spirit would know some peace!”
Van Zieks squeezed his eyes shut. He looked like he’d been struck.
Something sick and painful uncurled in Kazuma’s stomach. He jumped up and grabbed his cloak. He couldn’t stay in the office with him a second longer.
#
They led Barok van Zieks from his cell to face his execution. Kazuma watched, mouth set in a hard line of satisfaction. Van Zieks offered no struggle as they led him to the gallows, which almost disappointed him.
The noose was placed around his neck.
But this was wrong.
He was no murderer.
Van Zieks had never killed anyone, his worst crime being that he was an inexperienced prosecutor stricken by grief and looking for revenge.
Just like another prosecutor come to work on Britain’s shores.
Kazuma looked up at his mentor, who had never once treated him cruelly.
The noose tightened.
This was wrong, why were they hanging an innocent man, why wasn’t anyone stopping them?
Oh.
Because he, Kazuma Asogi, had convicted him.
“Stop!” Kazuma shouted, but no one heard him now. “Stop it! No, you have to stop!”
Kazuma jolted upright in bed. “Stop it! Stop—”
He blinked around in confusion. He wasn’t at the gallows. He was in the small room he’d rented in London. And van Zieks had never been found guilty; he’d been proven innocent in that trial thanks to Ryunosuke’s efforts.
Kazuma ran a hand through his hair as his heartrate returned to normal. It was only a nightmare, nothing more. Yet the image in his mind of van Zieks hanging there dead haunted him with a deep chill he couldn’t shake.
He’d told van Zieks that was what he wished had happened. A cold pit formed in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face.
He’d told van Zieks he wanted him dead. Van Zieks, who despite everything, had been a fair and compassionate mentor to him. Van Zieks, who never fought back when Kazuma lashed out at him, as if he were too tired to fight—or perhaps thought he deserved everything his apprentice said.
Van Zieks, who had too little regard for his own life as it was.
Kazuma’s stomach turned over. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t take Kazuma’s words to heart, would he?
Outside his window, the stars shone peacefully in the night sky, the streets of London quiet below. Van Zieks had offered him a room in his mansion. Ironic, that the man who trusted no one would make such an offer to the man who came seeking revenge on him. Kazuma had rejected it in favor of finding a room on his own, leaving van Zieks all alone in that manor.
Despite the manor’s size, Van Zieks had no staff, claiming he couldn’t risk it after the attempts on his life—though Kazuma suspected it was fear that there would be attacks against his employees that caused him to dismiss them, rather than fear of betrayal. With no staff and an apprentice who took lodgings elsewhere, there was no one at all in that manor to remind van Zieks he wasn’t alone, no one to stop him if he did something rash, no one to even find the body if he…
Yes, no one would know for a long time; even Kazuma wouldn’t know. He’d go to the office and van Zieks wouldn’t show up, and he’d wonder… and wonder…
He was running for the door before he knew what he was doing.
#
He reached the van Zieks manor in record time considering he had to go on foot. No carriages were available quickly enough for his tastes at this time of night, so he simply ran. It was cold, but he ran. It was long, but he ran.
All the while, he repeated his wishes over and over in his mind like a mantra. Van Zieks was all right, he wasn’t dead, he would make it in time. Van Zieks was all right, he wasn’t dead, he would make it in time.
The sight of the manor filled Kazuma with dread, but he steeled himself and ran to the door. He knocked.
A moment passed.
He knocked again, harder.
No sound came from inside.
Panicked, Kazuma pounded on the door with all his strength. Why was he taking so long to answer? Why was he taking so long to answer?! Why wasn’t he answering, he wasn’t answering, he wasn’t going to answer, he wasn’t going to answer ever again, he—
The door swung open. Van Zieks looked tired, and very confused. “Asogi?”
He was alive. Kazuma sagged against the doorframe in relief. He was alive; he took so long to answer because Kazuma woke him up in the middle of the night. What seemed incomprehensible a minute ago now made perfect sense.
Which… still left Kazuma standing outside the manor.
“Asogi?” van Zieks asked again. “Are you all right?”
Kazuma blinked and then said the only thing he could think of. “I’m fine, how are you?”
Van Zieks stared at him. Then he turned and looked at something over his shoulder. “It’s 2 in the morning.”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“What brings you here at this ungodly hour?”
“I… wanted to apologize for what I said earlier.”
“And this couldn’t wait until morning?”
“It is morning,” Kazuma said.
“Don’t be pedantic, Asogi; you know what I mean.” Van Zieks frowned and took a closer look at him. “Are you certain you’re all right? You’re shaking.”
He was, wasn’t he? Poised on the brink of hysteria, Kazuma couldn’t tell if his reaction came from relief or some lingering effects of the nightmare. His hands were shaking, his legs were shaking…
“Come inside,” van Zieks said.
“N-No, I’ll… let you go back to sleep…”
“You’ve already woken me, so there’s hardly any harm in keeping me up a while longer. Come inside.”
Numb, still shaking, Kazuma let himself be escorted into the manor.
Van Zieks led him into a parlor and over to the couch, where he sat down so quickly it was nearly a collapse. His mentor eyed him for a moment, lips downturned in a worried frown. “I’ll make you some tea.”
“Please don’t,” Kazuma said.
Please don’t do anything else for me.
Please don’t play the part of the compassionate mentor when I said such a horrible thing to you.
Please just lash out at me so I can stop feeling this way.
“Tea, Asogi. I assure you I know how to make it.”
“That’s not—” Kazuma squeezed his eyes shut. “Fine, go ahead and make your stupid tea.”
He managed to keep himself together until van Zieks was out of the room, and then he put his head in his hands with a shuddering gasp. He was going to be sick. He should have gone back to Japan with Ryunosuke. Then, even if he never pulled himself out of this darkness, at least he wouldn’t keep infecting van Zieks with his poison. Kazuma wrapped his arms around himself and tried to stop shaking. He claimed to be a man of justice, yet he told his mentor he wished he’d been unjustly executed. He was a horrible apprentice… a horrible person.
It felt like no time at all before van Zieks returned with the tea. He pressed the hot cup into Kazuma’s hands. “Drink.”
Kazuma’s stomach roiled, but he took a tentative sip of the tea. It was good. Sweet. It reminded him of one of Iris’s soothing herbal blends; perhaps she’d given him the leaves. A quip about van Zieks cooking rose to his lips, but it just made his stomach turn over again, so he remained silent and drank his tea. The warmth helped, if nothing else. His trembling slowly stopped.
“Now,” van Zieks said, “shall we return to the question of why you appeared on my doorstep at this time of night?”
Because I was afraid you might take your own life after what I said. Because I had a nightmare. Because I became irrationally convinced you were dead. None of these were things he could say out loud. Kazuma stared into the teacup as if it might provide him answers, or at least explain what he was supposed to do.
Several painful seconds passed in silence.
Then a warm hand touched his shoulder and squeezed. “You’re a good apprentice, Asogi.”
Kazuma snapped his head up. “What?”
Van Zieks watched him with a steady expression, his gaze warm. “When you were first assigned to me, I admit I had my doubts. I felt no need for an apprentice, nor any desire for one. Yet you’ve proven yourself to be both a capable prosecutor and a truly wonderful apprentice.”
“With all due respect, sir, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Van Zieks raised his eyebrows.
Kazuma folded his arms and looked away. “Now that everyone knows you aren’t the Reaper, you could get a better apprentice easily. You could probably find a hundred apprentices who wouldn’t tell you they wished you were dead!”
The words hung in the air between them, impossible to take back.
Then van Zieks said softly, “I’ll gladly take one apprentice who lashes out when he’s hurting over a hundred who would never think to rush out here in the middle of the night to make sure I was all right because of it.”
A lump formed in Kazuma’s throat, and he swallowed hard.
“You are a wonderful apprentice and a good man. Nothing you say to me in anger will change who you truly are inside.” Van Zieks squeezed his shoulder again and then let go. “Now, if you’re feeling better, I’ll show you to a guest room for tonight.”
Kazuma jumped to his feet. “What? No, I’ll just walk back.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’m not about to throw my apprentice out into the street in the middle of the night.”
“I’m the one who woke you up!”
“I’ll only lose more sleep if I need to worry about your wellbeing until morning.”
Kazuma scowled. Stubborn idiot. “You know, van Zieks, you’re really”—a wonderful mentor—“a jackass sometimes, but I guess you’re all right as far as mentors go.”
Sometimes he hated himself for not being able to say what he meant. Why couldn’t he just tell the man he appreciated him?
Yet van Zieks almost smiled, as if he understood. “Come. You can pick your room.”