Work Text:
(Written from Ryunosuke’s POV)
- - -
There he was, standing before my eyes.
My friend and partner, Kazuma Asogi.
He was different in a way, unlike the man I knew like the back of my hand.
He seemed lost, as if he were stuck in the same abyss I was once in. The one that engulfed me after I had the pleasure of seeing his lifeless body on the ground.
It was a sight I wished I never saw. The man that stood so valiantly, carrying the fire of ambition to change Japan’s legal system burning so brightly in his soul, had been extinguished so quickly.
What made its ashes engrave itself further into my mind was the fact I had to find out his death was a mere accident, caused by a runaway Russian ballerina that had acted out of fear.
Maybe if I never ate last night’s dinner, he would still be alive.
Maybe if I fought the sleep-inducing drug and stayed awake, he would still be alive.
Maybe if-
“Ryunosuke.”
The voice I knew so well broke my train of thought. Finally, I got the chance to take in the features of the prosecutor in front of me.
Huh, he always wanted to be a defense attorney.
“What happened, Kazuma?”
A question I wished to ask, but my throat did not comply.
In my mind, he had died.
But there he was, standing right in front of me. There was no use holding onto such memory if he was here, alive, right?
It had already clung to me like glue, and it will for the rest of my life.
Snapping out of my daze, I could only stare at him. It felt so surreal seeing someone I once knew like this.
Then as if beckoning me, his sword popped into mind. Reaching for it out of instinct, I gazed upon it with a new found feeling, like a fire had been lit inside me as I looked back up at its owner, still not believing my eyes.
I clutched the cherished blade of the Asogi clan, the great Karuma in my grasp and held it close to my chest.
“I knew you wouldn’t die that easily, partner.”
As I returned the blade, it was like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders, but it felt more like a vital part of me being ripped from as well. Nonetheless, I couldn’t look back, not now.
Kazuma took the blade, unsheathing it when I could not bring myself to, and slashed the last remnants of his own father, an accused criminal who’s crimes shook Britain to its core.
“We have much to talk about. But not here, not now.”
And then he left.
Then it felt as if I was plunged back into the abyss again.
I wanted to scream, to not let him leave, to grasp his hand, to stop his path to the door, but my throat fell silent again as if it would be clawed if I spoke.
But I knew I would see him again. So, I’ll wait.
I always have.