Chapter Text
To: Kazuma Asougi
I have arrived in London and have taken on the role of a defense lawyer. I have recently finished my second case as an attorney even though I'm still trying to reconcile the first one, I have no doubt you would have made the right choices. This job is hard and confusing, giving people your blind faith and fighting till the bitter end is not easy as is pretty obvious. Right now it is almost midnight, and the light of the oil lamp is keeping me company. The “Great Detective” Mr. Herlock Sholmes and his biographer Iris Wilson have let Susato-san and I stay in their attic, I'm still baffled by the crazy string of events that have led us here.
It's not been long since your passing, every time I cannot find sleep I'm drawn back into the memory of the steamship. The night after you'd died, I don't think I've slept fine since. Even when I fall asleep I'm often plagued by nightmares and memories that refuse to give me sleep, You were familiar with this I know. That night I'll remember for the hundredth time, I have never forgotten. I presume I will never forget it.
That cozy steamship cabin was still and silent, save for the distant sounds of waves hitting the sides of the ship. I stood in the middle of the cabin fists balled tightly at my sides, this was the first time that day I’d had been alone, with all the chaos of the investigation I hardly had time to rest much less think. I let out a sigh and it felt like the first breath I had let out, I knew that wasn't true but the tension hadn't left my body. I was waiting for something to happen to cut the heavy silence above me; Mr. Sholmes to bust in with a loud declaration, or Miss Susato’s gentle knocks at the door. But nothing happened I stayed still and tense standing in the middle of the room, above the outline that once framed you, Kazuma Asogi. Still, I did not move I felt frozen just breathing in and out. This cabin wasn't mine, this stuff wasn't mine yet I was the only one who remained here.
Susato told me to get some sleep, fatigue had settled deep into my bones, you know how dramatic I am with my sleep. I walked to the bed and looked down at it, it wasn't my bed, it was yours. I only grew more tired, my limbs were slow and clumsy, and with great hesitance pulled the covers back on your bed, ruining the orderly fashion you had made it with. I was so tired, as I lay down it was terrible, it still smelled like you. The bed wasn't soft or gentle, it was a cold reminder of what had been lost. I would never see you wake up at the crack of dawn, dressed with your hair all in place or as in place as your unruly hair could be, so meticulous with the way you pulled the bed together. Perfectly and orderly, just like you. Waking up so early to practice your swordsman techniques, always leaving the room as it was before everything was in its place. Nothing is in its place anymore and you are dead. As I lay there these thoughts consumed me flashes and glimpses of the man I spent so much of my life with it consumed and surrounded me, these memories choked me, My throat eventually let out a strangled noise chest heaved, I couldn't sleep there. And I never did, I refused to sleep in your bed, If you were alive you'd likely berate me for being so stubborn.
I was tired but it wasn't enough so I decided to spend my time putting the room back in order, returning the small table to its proper state, lining up all the pens and paper neatly on your desk, and setting your journal neatly down. Part of me wanted to read it, maybe just to feel as though you were still here to see inside those last moments, but I couldn't. It was too much, something so mundane as a journal entry felt so personal, so near. You know better than anyone how I procrastinate, I still have your journal I promise I’ll read it someday but I’m not ready yet, I will be someday.
It's funny, I was always told that grief was sharp it was sudden, the worst part was before the tragedy, the grief of waiting at a sick one's bedside knowing what is to come. How desperately I wished that's how it felt that I’d have the comfort of knowing that things were inevitable, that there was nothing I could do. I was not given the luxury of panic or hysteria, that the pain would be sharp and human. But in the end, all it felt like was an anchor weighing on my chest it was cold and empty, the anchor sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean, obscured and lingering.
Your room felt so empty and fake without the body it belonged to occupying it. I wanted to stop crying to stop wallowing to be strong for you, as I should. But to move on felt irreverent it felt like a betrayal. I felt the desire to hurt to sob my eyes out to cry until my throat was a raw and burning reminder that you existed. I wanted to simply ignore every other step in grieving he wanted to defy it all. I wanted to be angry but all I could muster was exhaustion. I'm not like you, I can't defy the world with a smile on my face and a sword at my side, but I'm trying, god I’m trying.
Eventually, I turned away from the desk before curling up in that wardrobe again. I always shut the door, it was dark there, and nothing could reach me. Whenever I looked out at the cabin all I could see was your lifeless unmoving body lying there on the wood. Maybe if I pulled my knees tighter to my chest and dug into my sides the sun would rise and you would open the doors and greet me with a grin, taking sadistic pleasure in how much I hated mornings the light pouring into the dark wardrobe. You would extend a hand to help me out headband fitted to your forehead ready to face another day, your skin was warm and vibrant. Even now I find it hard to sleep, it can be so silent here.
There is nothing I can do now but continue onward, I will not wallow as much as I desire to, I won't let you down and I won't let those who rely on me down. I will prove your trust in me. These clients put their trust in me and I won't let that down. It is nice to say that I'm not alone. Susato-san is wonderful she’s so meticulous and organized I don't know where I'd be without her. She and I have grown close, and after proving my innocence we've had some common ground, I really don't know where I’d be without her. Mr. Sholmes and Iris happily let us into their home, which we are immensely grateful for it has been nice to really be able to call a place home even so far from our homeland. Mr. Sholmes may be eccentric, unpredictable, and obstructive but he's a good man and he seems a good father to Iris even if he isn't her real father. Iris herself exhibits a lot of Sholmes traits but honestly, she may be the most put-together out of all of us, she truly makes Susato and I feel welcome. Even though you’re gone, companionship has found its way to me. I do truly wish you were here to experience the group of sorts we've become.
There is some small part of me that hopes somehow, these letters reach you, that by some twist of fate, you're hearing this and are still with me in some way. Deep down I am aware these letters may be the ramblings of a madman, but I truly cannot help it. I have always been irrational and superstitious. I really do hope that you are proud, that through these letters I can without a shadow of a doubt know I'm doing things right and I'm making your dreams become a reality. I truly am a fool, but I have always been foolish around you.
Kindest regards,
Ryuunosuke Naruhodo