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“I heard the news, Mr. Asougi.”
Asougi Kazuma’s dark eyes turned to slits as he peered from the top of the paper that he had been pretending to read for the better part of the hour. He had been afraid of this: Someone from Scotland Yard had tattled about his latest attempt at an investigation into one of the more obtuse and dangerous crime syndicates in London—the Red Circle. “Yes?” he said, blithely, even though he knew full well that pretending to be dumb won’t buy him even a second of safety from his mentor’s sharp tongue.
“Don’t be obtuse with me. I meant the news of the attack yesterday.”
Heavily, Kazuma put down his paper. “Who blabbed?” he asked, more coolly than he felt. “Was it Gina Lestrade, perhaps? Or one of your other little birds in the precinct?”
His mentor chose to ignore his attempt at a diversion, for of course he did. “I seem to remember having warned you against foolhardiness after your trial against that thug Gennaro Lucca last month.”
“He’s involved with the Red Circle!” Kazuma said, hotly. “While he is not exactly with the mafia… the connection is obvious!” He closed and opened his fists, trying to master his temper. Breathe in, Iris’s words resounded in his head. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out— “I will take care of them if no one would. Even you, sir, have to admit just how important that guilty verdict that I secured for him was!” And just like that, Iris Watson’s tips for trying to calm himself down were thrown out with the bathwater.
“And I applaud you for taking him down. But you're up against an organization this time, Asougi. Not just… individual, unruly assassins out for revenge. I cannot help but be worried, as your mentor!”
“Well, your concern is noted, sir.” Kazuma stood up, and Barok’s eyes focused on him with a razor-sharp look. “But trust me when I say I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that face. Everything I'm saying is entering one ear and exiting the other, isn't it?”
Kazuma shrugged, unwilling to answer definitively in one way or the other. Which was, of course, answer enough for Barok, who sighed heavily.
“Will you be going to investigate today as well?”
“Yes,” Kazuma said, who understood that he cannot very well evade an answer forever. “And please do not try to stop me.”
“No. Quite..... the opposite.” The prosecutor looked down and seemed to steel himself before adding, “I will come with you.”
“You are treating me like a child!”
Barok’s ice-blue eyes blazed. “You may be a capable fighter, but a single battle does not make a war. It is best to be prudent.”
Kazuma scoffed. “How typical of you,” he returned. “Did I not deserve even the simplest ‘well done’ because I took some of those goons down?”
Barok was thunderstruck at such a statement. “How can I commend you for such foolishness?”
“Foolishness? Foolishness?”
“Yes,” Barok said in a delicate, but pointed, tone. “Foolishness!” He slammed his desk with a free hand, and Kazuma almost jumped out of his skin. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I had to hear it from someone else? How scared I was?!”
“Well, why are you worried about me?” Kazuma snapped. “Why are you worrying about me, about my actions? Why?”
“I— I don't want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger for a case!”
Kazuma had had enough of the hypocritical guilt that curled around Barok’s words. He turned away.
“You’re one to talk.”
“—What?” A disbelieving tone from his mentor. Even though he wasn’t looking, Kazuma can clearly picture it in his mind’s eye—the way the cross-shaped scar between Barok van Zieks’s brows was standing out clearly as he scowled horribly. He pictured that, and, unbidden, the next words came out of his lips—
“You know why.”
Barok stood up as answer, and drew himself up to his full height, which was easily a head taller than Kazuma.
“I would have regarded this backtalk as insubordination and sanctioned you accordingly as per the code of conduct of the Prosecutor's Office, but I know that you are just speaking out of… passion for what you do.” “However… as punishment… you have to organize my case file library and make sure to copy down any pages that have been nibbled by mice, or falling apart due to time. Work quickly and methodically, and most especially… quietly.
“Do you understand, prosecutor?”
Kazuma almost choked, so enraged was he. “Not at all! I demand that you explain yourself!”
“Are you refusing a direct order, Mr. Asougi?”
Barok’s eyes were flashing dangerously, and a more sensible man than Kazuma would have immediately stepped down. But the Asougi clan’s too-passionate blood roared in his ears, and he couldn’t help but retort—
“You accuse me of taking unnecessary risk! You! You cannot tell me to not do something that you know you would have done once upon a time!”
Several pens and ink had spilled over the desk when Barok had gotten up; the two of them took little notice and just glared at each other.
“I am admonishing you and letting you off the hook, and you dare speak in this insolent tone of voice?!”
“I maintain that I did nothing but try my utmost to fulfill my duties, sir! I can bring the Red Circle to justice! And I am capable of it! You cannot call me foolish for wanting to bring peace upon their victims!”
“I have no doubt that you do! But you. Cannot. Do. It. Alone!”
“Remind me again who it was that took the mantle of the Reaper and fought London’s criminals all by himself while being even younger than me at that time?!”
Barok broke off at this statement from his junior, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. Kazuma quickly pressed his advantage and leaned forward passionately.
“I’m twenty-five, and not a child anymore!”
Barok’s tone of voice had a quiet anger that somehow did what his fury did not earlier.
“Clearly, even after knowing my history, why don't you understand why I am telling you off? I don't want you to walk the same path, Asougi. You told me you were trying to cleanse yourself of your own demons— And I intended to honor my promise to help you out in the utmost!”
Kazuma shook his head, a little shaken despite himself, but bullheaded all the same, feeling that if he were to back down now, it would serve as precedent for anything similar that might happen in the future.
“I think I’ll go investigate on my own.”
“Asougi!” The prosecutor slammed his fist on the desk in frustration. “You insist on acting like a child—!”
“I will not let you insult me any further.” Kazuma bowed frostily, and without another word, took his files and stormed out of the office.
Barok, with the wind taken out of his sails, finally sat down and buried his face in his hands.
“—Damn it all to hell!”
He sighed deeply, and slowly drew out a silver case from his pocket. Finally coming to a decision, he took out a cigarette from the case and lit it on a nearby candle, the stick trembling slightly between pale fingers.
“...Asougi… what…”
The scent of nicotine was strong in the air, and Barok van Zieks’s pale eyes found themselves absently finding the framed photograph placed carefully on Kazuma’s desk.
Asougi Kazuma found himself in a similar nicotine-laced break as he found himself skulking in a shady corner on the rooftop of the Prosecutor’s Office, and looked up at the almost-mocking bright blue of the sky as he blew gray tobacco smoke from his lungs.
“He’s nothing but another stupidly traditional prosecutor, like Auchi,” he found himself muttering inconsolably, but before he can take another drag—
“!”
The door to the rooftop opened with a bang; Kazuma shrank back instinctively, half-hiding behind a low wall. To his surprise and mild annoyance, he saw his mentor stride out, though thankfully he did not at all seem to have noticed Kazuma. He headed toward the edge of the roof, and Kazuma had a sudden crazy thought that Barok might suddenly fling himself over it, but then he stopped and made angry gestures at the air; if he had been holding a chalice, he would have crushed it.
“Child!” Kazuma could hear him growl at the empty air. “I am dealing with… a… child!”
Kazuma’s eyes narrowed, though only very slightly, and he dropped the butt of his cigarette down on the ground and viciously ground it under his heel.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Barok, as though answering his gesture with a childish move of his own, kicking the low wall in disgust.
Just who is the child here again? Kazuma thought, half with contempt and half with amusement.
However, just as he quickly stifled himself from laughing out loud, Barok suddenly turned around, as if feeling his presence.
“Who's there?”
Kazuma sighed, not in the mood to get yelled at again. He stepped out swiftly from his hiding spot, surreptitiously putting the folders under his arm.
“It’s just me.”
Barok seemed to be at a true loss for words because of his sudden appearance, and Kazuma quickly took the opportunity to bow and hopefully escape. “I’ll be going down—”
“You will do no such thing. Wait.”
“What?” Kazuma bit out, the words coming out ruder than he intended, and Barok frowned horribly at his student’s still less-than-courteous tone of voice.
The words didn’t seem to come easy to Barok’s lips, but they finally came out after a few seconds of visible struggle. “…Do you have your standard-issue pistol on you?”
“…No. You know as well as I do that Karuma is good enough for me.”
“Where is the gun?”
“Locked in my work desk.”
“Grab it on your way down if you plan on going out. I insist.”
“What, even just to cross the street for lunch?”
“Just do it, Asougi. Don't quibble about it. Do it.”
Kazuma’s eyes were slits. “…Ugh. Fine.”
“Good.”
Kazuma strolled the streets, his feet automatically beating the path to the small cafe where he and his mentor usually went to have a snack at work. Before he began to regret his decision, however, the doors had closed behind him, and the scent of good food drew him in.
Damn it, he thought. Even when they were at loggerheads right now, he cannot deny that Barok van Zieks knows how to pick a place to eat.
“Alone today?” the server that usually waited on their table, a burly youth by the name of Sullivan (Kazuma wasn’t too sure), raised an eyebrow as he drew to Kazuma’s table with his notepad ready. “Where’s the Lord van Zieks?”
“Busy, I assume,” Kazuma said moodily, not in a good mind to engage in some verbal sparring, but before Sullivan could even dignify his response with another curious remark of his own, the bell at the door tinkled to announce the entrance of another customer, and while Kazuma’s back is turned so that he couldn’t see who it was, Sullivan’s sudden shit-eating grin caused a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Don’t you dare get the host to seat him behind me, Sulli—!”
But he was too late. He could hear the scraping of the chair right behind his seat, and the dulcet sounds of the menu flipping open.
“May I take your order, my lord?” Another server was talking smoothly beside Barok, and Kazuma quickly hid his face behind the menu, even though it was unnecessary, back to back as they were.
“Well, this and this one, please,” Barok was mumbling, and Kazuma, catlike, pricked his ears. “And for dessert, a coffee, and a piece of that excellent mille-feuille.”
A prolonged pause, where Kazuma was hoping rather doggedly that Barok would finally let his mind wander, before he heard the furtive question, “You haven’t seen my apprentice today, have you? I wanted to ask him to lunch here, but…”
Sullivan looked as if he was trying his best not to laugh, while Kazuma frowned horribly upon hearing those words.
He wanted to have lunch with me? Surely another ploy to keep an eye on me.
As if his luck was steadily running out, however, Barok seemed to suddenly notice Sullivan, who had been quaking for the past minute with suppressed laughter.
“Sullivan, there’s a good lad! Perhaps you know where Asougi is.”
“He’s, uh…” Sullivan’s eye twitched, and Kazuma desperately thought, Hold out, Sullivan, you idiot.
Barok van Zieks was sighing morosely, which must have been why he missed that tell. Kazuma can also hear the familiar metallic click of his cigarette case before it was swiftly succeeded with an apologetic, “Ah, this is the non-smoking booth… I forgot. I have been mightily distracted all morning by my apprentice’s behavior.”
“Well, milord…” Sullivan was saying uneasily, glancing awkwardly at Kazuma’s direction—
Kazuma was glaring daggers at him.
Perhaps out of nerves, Sullivan shifted a bit, and accidentally bumped into Kazuma’s table—
Kazuma watched, horrified, as his spoon fell on the ground, its clattering against the marble floor seemingly echoing around the restaurant—
Quickly, he dived for it, but—
“Ah, let me—!”
Was it really the right time for his mentor to be such a bloody gentleman?!
The end result being that they had grabbed the spoon at the same time, and were now staring squarely at each other—Kazuma mortified, Barok surprised.
The resulting silence was deafening. Sullivan, that trusty lad, quickly slinked into the shadows after taking Kazuma’s order, unwilling to partake of the tense, thick atmosphere.
“So you've arrived early after all, my apprentice.” Barok’s voice was dry. “Were you saving me a seat?”
Kazuma quickly pulled the spoon out of his mentor’s offending grip.
“Of course,” he said, equally dryly.
“Then, I’m sure it’s no trouble if I sit with you.”
“Be my guest.”
“Thank you.” Like an automaton with stiff limbs, Barok took his place across Kazuma’s seat.
Kazuma glared at him. Barok looked back, coolly, though Kazuma had been studying under him for far too long not to notice the slight fidgeting. “Have you been following me?” he said, and applauded himself when it sounded almost teasing.
Barok stared hard at him, clearly unable to lie himself out of this, and Kazuma almost smirked.
“The next time you want to have lunch with me,” he said, bluntly, “just ask.”
To his satisfaction, Barok almost choked on his water upon hearing this.
“I thought that… you might refuse me.” Barok said this in between wiping his sopping chin with the table napkin. “I was… merely saving you from the pressure of having to be burdened by my presence.”
“And yet we ended up having lunch together anyway.”
“Yes.” Barok huffed and turned away. “I’m sure it must displease you.”
“How can you tell?”
“You are not as good of an actor as you seem to fancy you are, Asougi.”
Another awkward silence. Kazuma was about to break the uncomfortable silence, but thankfully, the server shows up again with some aperitifs, and they both nurse their drinks, both trying to gauge the other’s mood.
“The… investigation.” Barok’s voice when he finally spoke again was so quiet that Kazuma almost missed it. “How much have you unearthed on your own?”
Kazuma raised his eyes from the brim of his glass. “Enough.”
“Any promising leads?”
“I hope so. I have some great bait on the line.”
“Then we must strike while the iron is hot.” Barok paused delicately. “If you are willing to take the rest of the day out of the office, I might be able to… er…”
Kazuma put down his glass with a thunk. “I’m sure you’re not telling me next that you’re planning to accompany me there, sir.”
To his credit, Barok did not try to talk his way out of this one.
“Yes. I am, quite bluntly, offering myself as your assistant for this investigation.”
It was Kazuma’s turn to choke on his water. Undeterred, or perhaps too embarrassed to quit at this point, Barok pushed on, a little blithely.
“Rest assured, as assistant and not co-counsel, I will take no credit for this case should it become a full-blown trial. The glory of dismantling the Red Circle will be yours.”
“Are you serious?”
The words were out of his mouth before Kazuma can stop it. They hung between the two of them, again, punctuating a silence that was so thick that it felt like swimming in cream. The server arriving and placing the dishes on the table was the one saving grace that finally broke the two of them out of yet another stalemate.
“I’m… aggrieved, sir,” he found himself saying.
“Aggrieved?” The ice-blue eyes again fix themselves on his face.
“Yes. Aggrieved.” Kazuma turned his attention on the fish on his plate, and to give his hands something to do, he mechanically took up knife and fork and cut into it. “I am aggrieved by your consistent lack of faith in my abilities.”
There was silence; as if to answer him back, this time, he heard Barok’s cutlery as they made gentle clinking sounds on his end.
“…You… have misread me.”
Kazuma narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
A soft sigh. “I have no doubt of your talent and your… intellect. And less of all, your drive to close this investigation.”
“And yet…” Kazuma’s fingers slipped a little, and his knife made a false cut on the fish, mangling it a little. “And yet, you called me…”
Foolish. The word stung on his tongue, and he couldn’t somehow muster the strength to even just bite it out.
Thankfully, Barok didn’t seem to notice, judging from the regular strokes of his knife. “Even the most talented person in the world can make mistakes. You are not infallible nor immortal, Asougi.”
“Am I not good enough for you?” Kazuma asked, quietly.
Barok gazed up at him, shocked.
“What are you asking? Would I have accepted you as my apprentice if I did not think highly of your talent? Besides… besides…!
“Maybe I would have been less worried if… you were less talented.”
The last part came out little louder than a whisper, as if Barok was ashamed of admitting those words, but Kazuma, this time, caught every word neatly.
“Less…?”
Barok started—perhaps he had not intended to say it out loud? “Your… Your immense talent, after all, is what has given you the unshakeable belief that you can do this investigation by yourself. Do I not speak truly?”
Kazuma leveled him with a stare.
“I… I only…”
Had Barok not noticed the tremor in his voice?
“Use me,” the Englishman was saying, babbling. Desperate to fill in the silence. “You have to admit that two heads are better than one.”
“—I only wanted you to be proud of me, my lord.”
Barok instantly fell silent.
Ah, you’ve done it now, Kazuma.
“You… wish for… my recognition. Did I hear you correctly…?”
Kazuma turned away, his cheeks flaring. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
After all… you are someone I admire… greatly.
When had all the anger… when had all the vengeance… ebbed… away…?
“But… you didn’t need to. You had never needed to, Asougi.”
Barok was saying something, but Kazuma’s ears were ringing with embarrassment.
"I… I have agreed to take you under my wing not only because you asked me, but…” Barok shook his head, and continued on. “Because I thought that… letting such a great talent go unchecked would be a huge waste…”
Kazuma was beet-red, still. Was he listening? Perhaps he was embarrassed that Barok was saying something like this in the middle of lunch? But Barok continued, trying hard not to be outdone by his reticence yet again—
“P-Perhaps… I had been remiss in… not being as vocal about it as I should have been… But…”
Barok inclined his head.
“If you have doubts as to whether you are doing well… I encourage you to beseech me to give you my feedback. Asougi.”
“!”
Finally, Kazuma found himself snapping out of his embarrassment, in time to catch the last part, and he gaped at Barok.
“You… mean it…?”
“Of course. When have I ever promised something that I did not mean?”
“I, yes.” Kazuma shook himself to clear his head, and smiled, finally. “I… I am sorry if my need for your approval came across as… er… insubordination.”
“Of course.” Barok bowed his head. “And I beg your pardon for losing my temper about it.”
Kazuma’s smile slowly grew into a grin. “Then all is forgiven, sir?”
Barok had an uncomfortable premonition about that grin, but wishing not to rock the boat any further, decided not to comment on it. “Only if you promise me that you do not be so… stubborn next time. I am here to help you learn. Do not forget that.”
The silence they lapsed into was now a friendlier one, and Kazuma cleared his throat a little.
“I still think that my choice on that day was not wrong.”
“Your… choice?”
“When that trial ended, I…” Kazuma straightened his back a little. “I chose well in picking you to teach me. You have been nothing but an exceptional mentor.”
Barok smiled, one of his sad smiles.
“And you have been nothing but a student beyond my wildest imagination.”
“Should I take that as a compliment, sir?”
“Take it as you will.”
Kazuma smiled back, crookedly. “Well, someone has to keep you on your toes, isn’t that right, my lord?”
Barok stared into those dark eyes, both hauntingly familiar and oddly strange, like a piano key that has been tuned oddly.
“Heh. I might be getting too old for this— but you are right, Asougi. You are right.”
They got back to the office without prior incident, and Kazuma quietly continued copying down case files and replacing the damaged pages.
“Do you think you will get at least half of it done by the end of the day?” Barok asked, quietly.
He shot his mentor a quizzical look, and nodded. “I’ll try my best.”
“Very well.” Barok seemed to hesitate, and then added, “Once you're done for the day, before you leave, come by my desk.”
This has never happened before. Kazuma tried not to show any confusion on his face. “Alright, sir.”
Barok nodded at this prompt answer, satisfied, and turned back to writing.
The rest of the afternoon flew by; Kazuma finally called it quits when his hand started to ache, and remembering his promise to Barok, he approached the desk. His mentor was just about to seal the folded document he had been writing since earlier. He had assumed that it was some sort of report to be carried down to the Chief Prosecutor’s office later, so it was a surprise when Barok handed the sealed envelope to him and said, with an embarrassed sort of tone (if Barok van Zieks was ever known to be embarrassed), “Here. Take it.”
Kazuma felt as though he had just accepted a bomb of some sorts as he felt his fingers close upon the document. “What is it?”
“Read it in your own time.” Barok seemed to realize that it wasn’t an adequate explanation of what it was, and thankfully hurried to amend his statement. “It is a performance review of all of the past trials you have done in the last three months. Therein you will find my notes on what you did well, and what might still be improved the next time you take on a similar case.
“I expect you, of course, to keep up your best practices, and to improve on your opportunities.”
Kazuma couldn’t believe his own ears at this.
“Sir…” Instinctively, he sank into a bow, suddenly too overwhelmed to look his mentor in the eye. “Th-thank you very much.” Inwardly, he cursed his voice for trembling like that, afraid that he might have exposed a weakness to this irascible mentor of his. But Barok did not comment on it, and he felt, suddenly, a slight swelling of pride in his chest.
So he had recognized his efforts, after all!
“You don’t have to thank me.” As though to console him, Barok seemed just as embarrassed by his unexpected meek gratitude. “I will have to do it on a regular basis from now on, too, if you receive it well.”
“Y-You must tell me your thoughts about it tomorrow.”
Kazuma didn’t miss the tremble in his mentor’s voice, and smiled at how similarly they felt about such a situation.
“Of course, sir. Good work today, sir.”
Barok finally smiled a little. “Likewise, Prosecutor Asougi.”
“Let’s head home.” Kazuma started toward the door, but Barok hung back.
“Go on ahead and call a hansom. I'll lock up.”
Kazuma shot him a curious look, but held his tongue and proceeded to obey his suggestion.
As he heard the great double doors close behind his apprentice, Barok shuffled the papers on his desk and carefully arranged the pens in their holders, taking care to replace the inkwells back to the proper position again.
He looked around, slightly haunted by the emptiness inside the room without Kazuma to liven it up, and spotted the photo that had graced his apprentice's low desk ever since they began this strange, mentor-mentee relationship.
Now it was no longer strange, but familiar, and warm.
“Genshin…”
His voice echoed softly, alone as he was.
“I did well, didn't I?”
The tall, thin man in the photo did not respond, but only laughed, and Barok smiled back.
