Archive of Our Own ^beta

In Kazuma’s head, their reunion goes like this:

Ryuunosuke is positively dashing as he steps off the steamship. His dark suit is snugly fit on his body, Karuma strapped to his side, his hair ruffled in the sea breeze. Kazuma feels his heart climb eagerly to his throat as he waves, waiting for Ryuunosuke to spot him on the dock.

When he does, he beams. The surface of the ocean glitters behind him from the sun’s waning golden rays, but it’s nowhere near as brilliant as the relief on Ryuunosuke’s face. From seeing him.

“Kazuma!” Ryuunosuke calls. He rushes over. The crowd parts around them like the Red Sea, and Kazuma strides forward to meet him, his gait unwaveringly dignified and steady. 

Up close, Ryuunosuke is even more gorgeous—his wide, expressive brown eyes, the playful quirk of his lip. Has his jawline gotten sharper, more defined? Kazuma reaches forward and, like the gentleman he is, takes Ryuunosuke’s luggage from him with one hand. With the other, he intertwines their fingers together.

Ryuunosuke doesn’t pull away. In fact, he squeezes his hand in anticipation. Because they’ve exchanged so many letters this past year, Kazuma baring his heart and soul in every one of them. Everything he’s written, Ryuunosuke has reciprocated—and it’s all leading up to what he wants to say now, what he’s dreamed of saying for years. 

The stage has been set for this very moment.

“Ryuunosuke,” Kazuma says, smoothly, with words from the bottom of his heart that he’s rehearsed a thousand times. There is no time for greetings or pleasantries or courtesies. With his partner, there is no need, either. “I love you.”

It feels like a weight off his chest. Ryuunosuke blushes, his smile widening, eyes brimming with joy, and Kazuma could drown in that feeling. Like he could fix the whole damn universe with Ryuunosuke looking at him that way. 

“I love you, too,” Ryuunosuke whispers, leaning closer. The people around them have vanished—the only thing Kazuma can hear is Ryuunosuke’s heartbeat, in sync with his own. 

Kazuma closes his eyes, light-headed with the thought of finally, and leans in, too. Closer towards Ryuunosuke’s warmth, trembling with elation as—

SLAM!

“Asougi!”

Kazuma yelps. His eyes snap open.

What greets his sight is not Ryuunosuke’s lovely smile, lit by the setting sun, but the pale, pinched, perpetually-scowling face of Barok van Zieks, hands flat on the desk between them.

“Pray tell,” van Zieks says, ever so discourteously, “what is going through that mind of yours to prevent you from finishing the paperwork I asked you to file three hours ago?”

“What?” Kazuma looks down. He’s not standing on the docks of Dover, but kneeling seiza-style in a dark office, in front of a massive pile of papers. Some of it is official court documents, but the one on the top, written in endearing messy kanji, is Ryuunosuke’s most recent letter from Japan, dated three months ago. 

Oh, right. That was what he was doing. 

Van Zieks glances at it, too, and a knowing look crosses his face. He leans back, folding his arms.  

“I hope you’re not letting personal engagements distract you from work, Asougi,” van Zieks says. Is he supposed to sound reprimanding? He just looks massively uncomfortable. Kazuma scoffs. He’s been working under van Zieks long enough that his superior can’t do anything except mildly infuriate him anymore. 

Kazuma shifts his weight slightly and lifts up his chin. “Oh, please, my Lord.” He only ever uses the honorific to piss van Zieks off. “I didn’t say a word when you mixed up the court record of your previous case because you were too busy rereading the letter Professor Harebrayne sent y—”

“Silence!” van Zieks seethes, but the damage is done. Kazuma catches a hint of color shooting through his cheeks before he whirls around and stalks off, finally leaving him alone. He silently celebrates the victory. 

(Actually, Kazuma did say a word. Many of them, behind van Zieks’ back, with Lestrade and Gorey in the forensic laboratory. It was nice to make fun of someone’s woes other than his own with the girls, for once.)

Now that he has his peace and quiet again, he looks back down at the letter. This must be his third—no, perhaps fourth?—time reading it over. Today, at least. Which, contrary to what everyone says, is actually a normal amount of times to soak in the words of his best friend. 

They’ve been exchanging letters ever since his return to Japan, and Kazuma misses him dearly. The content of Ryuunosuke’s correspondence varies: complaints about Prosecutor Auchi, praise for Susato’s (or should he say Ryuutarou’s?) work in court, promises to ship over dango and other Japanese foods Kazuma’s been craving in London. Kazuma reads it all, trying to imagine Ryuunosuke’s soft voice saying every word out loud and feeling his heart skip a beat in his chest.

Because…well. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Kazuma was already head over heels in love with Ryuunosuke when he smuggled him aboard the SS Burya two years and a lifetime ago. They’ve had their struggles and rifts since then, of course, but Ryuunosuke hadn’t taken his animosity about that final case with him to Japan. They had talked, before he left. And Kazuma apologized. Laid everything out in the open except for one thing.

Kazuma mouths the words again, just to rehearse them.

I love you.

He promised himself and Ryuunosuke that he would change. Grow out of that habit of keeping secrets and one day, gain the courage he needed to tell Ryuunosuke how he truly felt.

He thinks he finally has. Now all he needs to do is wait for Ryuunosuke to come back to London. 

Except, the thing is…for all Ryuunosuke rambles about in his letters, he hasn’t mentioned any plans to return. In fact, for the past three months, Kazuma hasn’t received any new letters at all from either him or Susato. It’s not too strange, perhaps—he knows both of them are hard at work fixing the Japanese judiciary. Maybe they haven’t had time to come back or write.

This is fine. Kazuma is an adult at the ripe old age of twenty-five, and he knows how to be a patient, functioning member of society. He can wait for his friends to come back. For as long as it takes.

“Asougi,” van Zieks says from his desk, snapping him out of his haze yet again. It seems he’s recovered somewhat from his embarrassment, although his near-empty glass suggests it wasn’t so easy for him. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

Kazuma rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond, but he supposes van Zieks has a point, for once. He sets Ryuunosuke’s letter aside for now and reaches for the nearest document.

This is fine, he repeats to himself. He just has to not overthink things too much.

He likes to think he’s doing a pretty good job, if he does say so himself.

Van Zieks only yells at him three times for daydreaming during work as the next week passes. Kazuma gets his paperwork done, wraps up an investigation with Lestrade, and immediately gets dragged into another, unofficial one with Sholmes about the “second greatest problem known to man!”

Kazuma has gotten used to it, unfortunately. After Ryuunosuke and Susato left, Sholmes was delighted to have him share the rent at 221B Baker Street. And it’s not a bad arrangement—he definitely appreciates Iris’ delightful home-cooked meals—but he really wishes Sholmes were less…exciting, at times.

After another late night of unsuccessful client hunting, Kazuma is exhausted when he shows up in van Zieks’ office. He can barely concentrate on the documents he has to organize, and nearly files half of them incorrectly—but strangely, van Zieks doesn’t seem to be that angry. If anything, he’s half-distracted himself. He barely says a word to him, spending most of his time reorganizing his desk or his wine barrels. 

Well, Kazuma’s not complaining. Small blessings and all that.

But after a few hours of this, he starts to get a little concerned. For his job stability, if nothing else. So like a good prosecutor, he looks around for evidence between each report he files.

Is van Zieks drunk? No, with how much the man drinks daily, he’d have to drain his whole collection to get that point. Has he been blackmailed? Kazuma discreetly checks van Zieks’ desk and trash can for any suspicious documents, but finds none; and van Zieks doesn’t seem like the type to stay here and dawdle if that were the case. He keeps pacing around the office, tidying things here and there…almost in anticipation. Is a renowned figure of the British judiciary visiting today? No, Kazuma would’ve been aware of something like that in the schedule, as van Zieks’ assistant. 

If nothing else, it’s a fun little game to play to alleviate the boredom. But it’s not until the afternoon when van Zieks finally addresses him directly.

“Asougi.”

Kazuma starts. Van Zieks stands in the middle of the room with a wine glass, staring vacantly at the little crime scene model they made yesterday.

“...Yes?” he ventures warily.

Van Zieks looks at him in what could only be described as a murderous glare by those not familiar with the man. But Kazuma recognizes the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes as he clears his throat. 

“Leave,” is all he says. 

Kazuma isn’t sure he’s heard correctly. “I’m sorry?”

“I want you out of the office.” Van Zieks sounds constipated. 

Kazuma reevaluates his theories. Maybe van Zieks is getting blackmailed? “Isn’t it a little early in the day for you to dismiss me?”

“I—” Van Zieks hesitates. “Yes. But today is…a special case.”

Kazuma continues staring at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Van Zieks swirls his glass and takes an uncomfortably long sip before responding. 

“Alb—” He looks like he’s just eaten something rotten. “Professor Harebrayne is visiting from Germany. He will be arriving here. In twenty minutes. And I want you out. Now.”

Kazuma feels his jaw hit the floor. He gapes in disbelief. 

His boss is a fucking hypocrite. 

Van Zieks glowers back. His face has more color in it than Kazuma has ever seen before. “You will not utter a word of this to anyone. Especially not Lestrade and Gorey. Do you understand me?” 

“I would never dream of it,” Kazuma says when he’s recovered from the shock. He’s sure to imbue extra sarcasm into his voice.

Van Zieks hisses like a street cat and marches away to reorganize his wines again.

Kazuma finally manages to stop staring after a few minutes. He really doesn’t know what the good professor sees in van Zieks, but, well, it’s not his concern.

He rises, gathering his belongings. Might as well take advantage of the leave, then.

He’s out of the office before the twenty minutes are up, hailing a carriage straight back to Baker Street. This early in the afternoon, Sholmes should still be out and about, granting him some precious moments of peace and quiet. He’s not sure about Iris, though. She might be working on her new manuscript.

He reaches 221B and unlocks the door without knocking, stepping inside…then pauses in the doorway.

The smell of freshly-cooked pheasant hits his nose.

He frowns. That’s…strange. He glances at the clock. It’s not mealtime already, is it?

“Iris?” he calls into the apartment, bending down to take off his boots. “What are you—?”

“Kazuma?”

Kazuma nearly falls flat on his face.

For a second, he thinks all his daydreaming about Ryuunosuke’s letter has bled into hallucinations. Because that voice…it couldn’t be…!

“Kazuma-sama!” 

Kazuma wrenches off his boots as fast as humanly possible and stumbles into the living room to see—

Four familiar faces sitting with Sholmes and Iris, around platters of food on the table.

“Mr. Asougi!” Sholmes exclaims, waving like nothing is amiss. Like the family Kazuma hasn’t seen in a year isn’t here out of the fucking blue. “You’re home early, I see!”

Kazuma can’t help it—his gaze falls on Ryuunosuke first. Even without the sun illuminating his features, he looks exactly as perfect as he did in Kazuma’s fantasies. He’s exchanged his schoolboy uniform for a proper suit, just as dark and form-fitting across his shoulders (which—have they gotten broader?). His attorney’s armband is snug around his bicep, Karuma laid across his lap. His eyes widen as their gazes meet, electric, and his mouth curves into a smile. 

Kazuma has to stop himself from blurting out I love you! right then and there.

Except they’re not on the docks of Dover. He hasn’t had a two-month-prior notice to start preparing for real. They’re in Kazuma’s fucking home for the past year, and he has no idea about the hows and whens and whys of their arrival. 

He’s still watching Ryuunosuke’s lips when they open, presumably to speak, but—

“Kazuma,” says Professor Mikotoba, first, from his seat next to Sholmes. He smiles warmly. “Long time no see.”

“Wh…” Kazuma says weakly, still in disbelief. He can’t manage another word.

“I’ve missed you so much, Kazuma-sama!” Susato exclaims, eyes sparkling as she bows. She looks the same as she did a year ago, except a little taller, a little prouder. 

The girl next to Susato, long-haired and dressed in a yellow kimono, bows as well. “It’s good to see you again, Asougi-san.”

Her name takes a second to come to mind. Murasame Haori: a close friend of Susato’s who often showed up at their home or at Mikotoba’s laboratory. He hasn’t seen her since he left Japan two years ago—what is she doing here?

In fact…Kazuma’s brain is slowly catching up to the bizarreness of the situation. What are all of them doing here? He hadn’t received letters in months, and all of a sudden they’re no longer in Japan, but sitting just a few meters away from him here in London? With no warning at all?

“Wh—” Kazuma tries again. He coughs. “What the hell?”

Sholmes tsks condescendingly. “Now, Mr. Asougi, is that any way to greet your longtime friends?”

Kazuma ignores him for his own sanity. He barely feels like he can stand anymore, much less speak.

“...Kazuma?” Ryuunosuke finally says. His voice is soft, and lilting, the syllables of his name slotting perfectly on his lips. Kazuma can think of something else of his that would— “Are you okay? You look kinda, uh. Pale.”

Kazuma finally regains control of his tongue. “W-why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Susato exchanges confused glances with Ryuunosuke. “But…we did? We sent letters.”

“And I telegrammed Sholmes right before our departure,” Mikotoba says. Then he frowns and glances at the great detective. “So…I suppose you had some hand in this misunderstanding?” 

Sholmes snaps his fingers. “Elementary deduction, my dear Mikotoba! I kept Mr. Asougi completely in the dark! In fact, I even confiscated the latest letters Mr. Naruhodou and Miss Mikotoba sent to him, which also mentioned your plans to return!”

“What?” Kazuma sputters. Is that why the letters suddenly stopped? “You looked through my mail?” 

“Indeed I did!” There’s not an ounce of shame on Sholmes’ face. “All for the shock of this very moment!”

For the first time in a year in this flat, Kazuma’s not the only one staring in utter incredulity at Sholmes. Only Iris seems to be unperturbed, as always—she beams, clasping her hands together. “Aren’t surprises just wonderful, Zumie?”  

“I—” Kazuma starts, flabbergasted, not even sure what he wants to say, but Mikotoba interrupts him.

“We should catch you up to speed, then,” he says, smiling sympathetically. “Why don’t you sit down, Kazuma?”

“I’ll pull up another chair next to Runo!” Iris exclaims, and scurries off to do just that. Kazuma hopes that the proximity doesn’t make him a) implode or b) grab Ryuunosuke by his shirt collar and start kissing him in front of everyone.

Ryuunosuke moves Karuma to make room for him. The katana looks to be well-cared for—like Ryuunosuke poured his own soul into safe-keeping it. Kazuma feels his heart flutter. The way Ryuunosuke gives him a little smile as he sits down does not help him stay composed at all.

“Hi,” Kazuma says, stupidly. Ryuunosuke blinks at him, and his smile widens, and never mind, actually, not stupid, this is the smartest move he’s ever made.

“Hi,” Ryuunosuke whispers back. Kazuma feels his will to not kiss Ryuunosuke right this second slowly slipping away. 

“Let’s start eating, my dear fellows!” Sholmes jumps in, rudely interrupting their moment. “Mikotoba, surely you can multitask as you speak? We wouldn’t want Iris’ food to go cold!”

“Of course,” says Mikotoba, genially. “Thank you for the meal, Iris.”

They all echo his sentiment, and Iris blushes, hiding her face behind her hands. “Oh, you guys…”

Kazuma takes it as a cue to dig in. The food is delicious, as always. Iris really pulled out all the stops for this reunion dinner.

“To be fair, this trip was on an unusually short notice. For our government, anyway,” Mikotoba says as silverware clinks. “The rescheduled Forensic Science Symposium won’t be happening for some time. But in the meantime, the government understands the need to expand our forensic and judicial capabilities. They allowed Murasame to accompany me for the first time as my forensic assistant, and Susato and Naruhodou to return once more— both as lawyers, now, in fact.” He pats his daughter’s shoulder, eyes shining with pride. 

Susato’s lip trembles. “Father…”

Kazuma smiles. God, he’s so proud of her. “I did hear you’ve been giving those Japanese prosecutors hell, Ryuutarou.”

“I-it’s nothing,” Susato stammers. She’s always been too humble for her own good. “I just stepped in when Mr. Naruhodou was busy with another case.”

“Oh, I do hope we get to see you in action, too, Susie!” Iris chirps. 

“Well…” Susato picks at her food. “I-I don’t know if they’ll assign me to a case here that quickly…”

“They better!” Murasame says, forcefully enough to make Kazuma jump a little. She sighs dreamily. “You’re always amazing in court, Susato…I could never get tired of watching you!”

Susato freezes. Then she turns a completely different shade of pink at Murasame’s gaze, ducking her head. “Ah—thank you, Haori…”

Kazuma hides a knowing smile. It’s cute, to see the two of them fall back into the same song-and-dance he always saw around the Mikotoba residence when they were growing up. Ah, young love. 

Speaking of…

His gaze slides to Ryuunosuke, who’s happily chowing down on some pheasant leg. He still can’t believe he’s here. So close, Kazuma could reach out and tangle their hands together, or perhaps their lips—

Kazuma shakes his head violently to get rid of the thought, ignoring the odd looks it garners from both Mikotobas. No. They’re in company, and the moment has passed.

He feels a sting of bitterness, shooting a glare at the back of Sholmes’ head for good measure. It was supposed to be perfect! He had dreamed of their reunion for so long, helping Ryuunosuke carry his luggage off the steamship like a gentleman, holding his hand the whole ride back after a beautifully amorous confession on the docks aglow in the sunset…

But if a whole year of prosecuting in the foggy town of London has taught him anything, it’s how to be light on his feet. So this is just a minor setback. It’s fine! They still have time.

Kazuma feels almost light-headed with giddiness at that thought. They have time now. Ryuunosuke is here to study again, this time with no tragic ten-year-old cases hiding in the shadows waiting to jump them. They could have months together, growing as lawyers and lovers…

So he just has to go back to the drawing board. There will be plenty more chances to tell him how he feels. To do justice to the years of feelings he’s harbored in his heart of hearts, as romantically as possible.

Kazuma has taken on the dark ghosts of his past with Ryuunosuke by his side. Surely that means he can take on this endeavor, too.

His new plan comes together the next day, and it’s ingeniously simple.

“Look!” Iris exclaims, waving the newspaper in his face come morning. “There’s a new restaurant opening on Baker Street!”

Kazuma leans back to get a better look and squints at the advertisement. It seems quite fancy, a small illustration of hearts and candles tucked in the corner, promising a quiet, intimate atmosphere for your dining desires!

A lightbulb switches on in his head.

“Hurley,” Iris pleads, turning her puppy eyes on Sholmes, “can we go?”

Sholmes heaves a gloomy sigh. He’s been like that since last night, when their guests left and their landlady came to remind them that rent was due in a few days. “My dear…if we spend our money on an upscale establishment like that, then we’ll definitely have no means of solving the second-greatest problem known to man.” 

“Aw.” Iris frowns, only for a second, then immediately cheers up again. “Well! Then maybe I can try to make Susie’s new recipe for dinner…” 

She scampers off, leaving the newspaper in Kazuma’s hands. He reads it again.

Well…the salary at the Prosecutor’s Office may not be extravagant, but it could certainly cover a meal. Two, specifically, for a very important and intimate occasion.

Kazuma tucks the newspaper into his pocket and heads to work.

Clearing his schedule and getting leave from van Zieks for his plan ends up being…surprisingly easy. Kazuma would bet his job on Harebrayne’s presence in London being the reason—either because the professor has done the impossible and softened van Zieks’ rough edges, or because van Zieks is so embarrassed by his admission yesterday that he’s trying not to antagonize Kazuma lest he go running with van Zieks’ secrets to Lestrade and Gorey. 

Either way, it’s a win. Kazuma works his normal amount of hours at the office today (he needs to make sure the restaurant doesn’t drain his coffers completely, after all) and heads for the Great Waterloo Hotel, where Mikotoba had said they were staying at for now.

When Kazuma enters, he immediately spots Ryuunosuke walking across the lobby. The Mikotobas and Murasame are nowhere in sight. Good—Kazuma doesn’t think he could survive the embarrassment of doing this in front of them.

“Ryuunosuke!” Kazuma calls. Ryuunosuke starts, turning to him.

“Kazuma?” Ryuunosuke tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”

Kazuma squares his shoulders and strides forward. “Ryuunosuke, I lo—”

Wait, fuck, wrong script, it is way too early to lead with that. He snaps his mouth shut, mortified.

Ryuunosuke’s brow furrows. “What’s up?”

Kazuma mentally slaps his cheeks. Get yourself together, man! He coughs. “A-are you busy?”

“Uh…yeah.” Ryuunosuke blinks. “I think I’m late for some sort of meeting with the new Chief Justice…”

“Not right now,” Kazuma says. He’ll just have to make this quick, then. “Tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Ryuunosuke frowns. “No, not really. Why?” 

Kazuma clears his throat. He better not mess this up—this isn’t even the real confession yet. “It’s been a while. Since we caught up.”

“Didn’t we eat together yesterday?” 

“Alone,” Kazuma clarifies. Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen, and he flushes. It’s endearing how easily his emotions dance across his face.

“Ah…I-I guess so.” He rubs the back of his head. “I guess so. It’s really been a year, huh?” He exhales. “I missed you.”

Kazuma’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. “I missed you too.” He takes a deep breath. Now seems like as good a time as any. “There’s a new restaurant on Baker Street. Do you want to go together tomorrow?”

Ryuunosuke starts, like he wasn’t expecting that. But then he smiles. Kazuma passes away a little.

“Of course. What time?”

“Anything is good.” When it’s with you.

“Hmm…” Ryuunosuke tilts his head. “What about five?” 

Kazuma nods, giddy. Everything is going according to plan. “Perfect. I’ll meet you outside.”

Ryuunosuke smiles wider. “I’ll see you there tomorrow, then—” He begins to turn away, but pauses for a second to add, “Partner.”

With that, he hurries off, like he didn’t just obliterate Kazuma’s entire composure with a single word. A word that they’ve called each other before, many times, but…Kazuma suddenly finds himself weak-kneed at the sound of it. 

That used to be his line. Back when they were at Yuumei. It was Kazuma who had started the whole partner thing—from tongue twister study partners to just partners, because it was easier, and everything with Ryuunosuke felt easy, back then. Before love and vengeance alike swept it all away.

Kazuma takes a deep breath. It’s been two years since they first agreed to go to London together. This has been two years overdue.

…Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow, he could call Ryuunosuke partner in a different sense of the word.

It starts off wonderfully. Kazuma spends the whole day rehearsing his speech in his head instead of working, then leaves early and shows up at the restaurant half an hour before their designated time, just to be safe. As the clock strikes five, he catches a glimpse of Ryuunosuke stepping out of a carriage across the street.

Ryuunosuke sees him and waves. Kazuma is very proud to say that he does not trip on his feet as he walks over, even as his heart starts pounding in his chest.

Ryuunosuke has Karuma at his side—he really does bring it everywhere, it seems. He carries it around so comfortably, now, like it’s a part of him. Is it weird to feel jealous about your own sword?

“Woah,” Ryuunosuke says, half in awe, half in apprehension, as he looks at the restaurant. “This is the place?”

Kazuma nods. “Don’t worry, partner, I’ll pay.” No stuttering, either. That’s good. 

“Ah! Y-you don’t have to—” Ryuunosuke stammers, but Kazuma grabs his sleeve in a sudden burst of boldness and starts herding him towards the door.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s not miss our reservation time.”

He holds the door for Ryuunosuke like a gentleman. Ryuunosuke heads in first. Before Kazuma steps inside after him, though, he takes a moment to inhale, closing his eyes and steeling his courage.

This will be the best meal Ryuunosuke’s ever been treated to. Kazuma will make sure of it.

The atmosphere in the restaurant is quite lovely. There is a quartet in the back playing a slow, sweet song, and the tables are illuminated by soft candlelight. It’s perfectly romantic—and perhaps, the best occasion to make his feelings clear.

“Good evening, sirs,” the waiter says when they enter. He’s a nondescript man, if not a little jumpy. He does a double take at the sight of Karuma and the saber on Kazuma’s belt. “Um, are those swo—?”

Kazuma glares at him. You will not ruin this for me.

The waiter flinches and snaps his mouth shut. “N-never mind!” He grabs two menus. “I’ll get you a table.”

They’re seated quickly. Kazuma opens his mouth to start—a witty remark about the atmosphere he practiced in the mirror, guaranteed to make him irresistible—but Ryuunosuke speaks first.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a revolver?”

Kazuma blinks. “Huh?”

“Uh…” Ryuunosuke looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I just—I just remembered something from the case last year. About every member of the judiciary having a standard-issue revolver.”

“Oh…yeah.” Kazuma pats the hilt of his saber. It seems like Ryuunosuke noticed the waiter’s fearful glance, too. “They did give me one last year. Said it’d probably be more effective in an emergency. But in my opinion, nothing beats a sword.” Although this one is far inferior to Karuma. 

“Of course you’d say that,” Ryuunosuke snorts, not unkindly. He gives Kazuma a little smile that nearly takes his breath away. “So how have you been holding up here in London?”

“Fine.” Kazuma folds his hands together on the table. He searches for another line among the many he practiced—one to sweep Ryuunosuke off his feet. “It hasn’t been the same without you, though.”

Ryuunosuke’s cheeks turn an endearing pink. But instead of swooning or stuttering, he simply says back, “I could say the same about life back in Japan.”

Damnit, is Ryuunosuke purposely trying to one-up him in suavity? Kazuma takes a second to collect his thoughts by flipping through the menu. “How has it been, turning the Japanese judiciary upside down?”

“Exhausting,” Ryuunosuke groans. Then he winces. “I mean, it’s an honor and everything like that, but God. I wasn’t exaggerating in my letters, you know. Dealing with Prosecutor Auchi on a near-daily basis…even facing van Zieks during my first month in London was better.”

Kazuma snorts. “That bad, huh?” 

“The worst,” Ryuunosuke stresses. He picks up the menu, too. “How is van Zieks, anyway? I hope he’s not too hard on you.”

The little bit of concern in his voice is touching. “Oh, you know.” Kazuma waves his hand. “He grows on you. Like mold.” Ryuunosuke chokes on his complimentary water with laughter, and Kazuma feels delight spark in his chest. “I’ve gotten used to it, really. He’s not that bad anymore.” 

But Kazuma didn’t come here to talk about his pathetic excuse for a boss. He switches the subject.

“Have you decided on what to eat?” he asks. “Don’t worry about the price. I’m treating you.”

“Hm…I dunno.” Ryuunosuke flips through the menu’s pages. “This menu’s even longer than the one they had at La Carneval.”

Kazuma blinks. He had nearly forgotten their outing to that restaurant in Japan, two years ago. He silently curses his oversight. Hopefully choosing a similar restaurant here wouldn’t dredge up too many bad memories. 

“I’ll just have what you have, I think,” Ryuunosuke says after a moment, setting the menu down. “You’ve been immersed in Western cuisine longer than I have.”

That’s a lot of pressure, but Kazuma is great under pressure. He waves over the waiter, the same one from before, to order.

It’s been years since they’ve eaten together, but Kazuma still remembers what Ryuunosuke likes. They used to enjoy beef stew outings, and while it’s not as good here as it was in Japan, meat is still meat—he’s heard it’s the quickest way to a man’s heart, and he doesn’t mind the help in his courtship efforts. 

“So,” Kazuma says when the waiter leaves, “how long do you plan to stay here in London?”

He needs to make sure, before he confesses. While his love is strong enough to cross the distance from Britain to Japan a thousand times over, he still wants to know how long they have together, this time. 

To be honest, after an entire year without seeing Ryuunosuke’s face, he’d take anything.

“I don’t know,” Ryuunosuke says after a moment. “Honestly, what Professor Mikotoba said yesterday was only…kind of true?”

Kazuma blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Ryuunosuke scratches his head. “The government only wanted to send Susato-san and Murasame-san, at first. Because they thought I learned all that I could’ve already. They really wanted me to stay in Japan.”

“Don’t tell me you got smuggled aboard again?”

Ryuunosuke makes a face. “No, no, Professor Mikotoba got them to relent, finally. And I’m glad.” He smiles. “I get to see you again, after all.”

Kazuma feels his face go hot. Why does it feel like Ryuunosuke is taking all the meaningful one-liners out of his mouth?

“But,” Ryuunosuke adds, “I probably won’t stay as long as the girls. Just a couple of months. This is technically just a vacation for me.”

Okay. Okay, Kazuma can work with that. He smiles. “Still, perhaps we can finally enjoy our time tearing up Her Majesty’s streets?”

Ryuunosuke laughs. “I hope so.” He glances at Kazuma, and there’s something weighty in his gaze. “You know I’ve been looking forward to it for two years.”

Kazuma sucks in a breath. “...yes,” he says softly. “Me too.”

Back then, after the Professor case was laid to rest once and for all, they only had a week. Seven days before Ryuunosuke returned to Japan, and most of that time had been fraught with lingering grief and hurt. Even after Ryuunosuke approached him to talk it out, even after they laid out all the grievances between them…there was still something unbroachable when they said their goodbyes.

But it’s been a year. It’s been a year, and the flame of bitter vengeance in Kazuma’s heart has been snuffed out since then. These past few months in London, he could actually breathe. And it’s all because of Ryuunosuke’s relentless pursuit of the truth.

The words are on the tip of Kazuma’s tongue, threatening to burst out of his chest. He glances around. Their food still hasn’t arrived. He wanted to wait until they finished the meal, but…looking at Ryuunosuke across the table, aglow in the warm candlelight, smiling back at him like he’s the only person in the world…

Kazuma doesn’t think he can physically wait any longer to say the words he wants to say. 

“Ryuunosuke,” he starts. “Actually, I…asked you to come eat dinner with me today for a specific reason.”

Ryuunosuke’s brow furrows. “Yeah. To catch up, right?”

“W-well, yes,” Kazuma admits. “But not just that. I also wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done.”

“Oh.” Ryuunosuke flushes. “I-it’s nothing. I was just trying to find the truth. You helped, too, Kazuma.”

Kazuma shakes his head. “But you got us there. It’s what I’ve always admired about you, Ryuunosuke. It’s why I knew I could trust you with Karuma.”

Ryuunosuke’s hand drifts to the hilt of the katana. Kazuma feels his skin spark as if Ryuunosuke had touched him. “I’ve been polishing it every day, like you told me to.”

Kazuma feels his heart clench. “I expect nothing less.”

Ryuunosuke smiles bashfully, and Kazuma has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from blurting out those three words. He takes a deep breath to collect himself. He has to put some thought into them. Say them right. He’s rehearsed these three words over and over again this past year. He can do this. He’s Asougi Kazuma. He can do this.

“Ryuunosuke,” he says, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

Ryuunosuke stares at him, mouth agape. He turns crimson. “I—”

Kazuma keeps barreling forward. “I am forever indebted to you. You have shaped my future a-and become it. So—” He inhales. “I want to say, with my whole heart, that I lo—”

BANG!

Kazuma is on his feet before he even registers the sound for what it is. Screams fill the air as restaurant patrons duck down in fear, scrambling away from the—

“What was that?”

“Someone call Scotland Yard!” 

Kazuma reaches for his saber on instinct. 

It was a gunshot. 

He scans the vicinity quickly. Nothing seems out of place here—no one is collapsed on the ground. And in fact, the gunshot sounded like it was coming from…the kitchen?

“Kazuma!”

Kazuma turns to look at Ryuunosuke, who’s also stood up. They’re the only two people motionless in the restaurant; everyone else is fleeing for the door. They exchange silent glances. Without a word, Kazuma immediately knows what he’s suggesting. He nods.

Ryuunosuke’s hand goes to Karuma, and the two of them forge ahead towards the kitchen. 

They approach the door. Kazuma listens for a sound, any sound, but there’s just silence behind it. He draws his sword and locks eyes with Ryuunosuke. 

Then he charges in first.

“Freeze—!”

There’s no assailant in sight.

Instead, right next to the half-open oven door lies a body on the tiled floor, blood pooling beneath him. From his outfit, he looks like the head chef, his white apron stained through with crimson. There’s a gunshot wound in his chest, but no murder weapon in sight.

Kazuma does a quick scan of the room. There’s no place to hide, really. Passing him, Ryuunosuke makes a beeline for the backdoor, the only other exit from the room, and tries the handle. After a moment, it swings open.

Kazuma tenses, reaching for his saber again, but Ryuunosuke frowns and glances back at him.

“It was locked,” he says. “From this side. The killer couldn’t have escaped through here.”

That’s…weird. Kazuma crouches down next to the body, mindful not to step in the pool of blood, and feels for a pulse on the man’s neck. 

“He’s dead,” Kazuma confirms. Bitterness shoots through him, and he glares down at the corpse. Why did someone have to die now of all times? And of all places? Just when he was about to confess to Ryuunosuke!

“Shit,” Ryuunosuke says. He’s looking everywhere except at the dead body. Seems like he still can’t stand the sight of blood. “We should call for help. The murderer could still be—”

“Sirs!”

Kazuma whirls around, saber drawn, and nearly cuts off the head of the waiter who had greeted them when they first entered the restaurant.

He looks even jumpier than before, stumbling away from Kazuma’s sword. “Y-y-you can’t be here! This is—” 

“An active crime scene, now,” Kazuma says. He flashes his prosecutor’s badge. “So actually, you can’t be here.

“Ah—” The waiter flinches, sweating nervously. Kazuma narrows his eyes in suspicion. “W-what do you mean, crime scene? What ha…” The waiter’s gaze drifts to the body behind him. “Oh my god—is that—?”

“Did you see anyone come into the kitchen?” Ryuunosuke asks.

The waiter is still staring at the body. “No! I can’t believe—” He starts to back away. Kazuma feels a jolt of alarm. “I didn’t—who—noooooo!”

He turns and runs out of the kitchen.

Kazuma shouts, swinging his saber, but the waiter ducks out of the way and rushes for the restaurant door—

Where he slams right into three Scotland Yard bobbies.

“‘ey! You!”

Behind them is a very excited-looking Gina Lestrade. Toby is hot on her heels, barking. At the sound of his owner’s voice, he starts biting at the waiter’s ankles.

That was fast. Kazuma slides his saber back into its sheath. “Lestrade.”

“Mr. Asoggy?” Lestrade squints at him. “Wot are you doin’ ‘ere?”

Trying to kiss Ryuunosuke, he thinks mournfully. Instead he says, “It doesn’t matter. There’s been a murder. One of the chefs was shot in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Lestrade says. “We got reports of a man runnin’ out of the kitchen when it ‘appened.” She narrows her eyes at the waiter, who is being grabbed by the bobbies. “A man wot looked like ‘im!”

“What?” Looks like Ryuunosuke’s caught up. He stares at Lestrade, wide-eyed. “Gina, are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure!” Lestrade huffs. “I ‘eard the witnesses wiv my own two ears!”

“Huh?” The waiter looks terrified. He struggles futilely. “No! It wasn’t—I didn’t—”

One of the officers pats him down and pulls a revolver out of his pocket. “This must be the murder weapon!” 

“No—!” the waiter protests, again, but to no avail. 

“Mr. Waiter!” Lestrade points at him accusatorily. “Yer under arrest!”

Of course. The man’s wary demeanor when they first entered. The door locked from the wrong side. His attempt to flee just now. Kazuma straightens his shoulders, sending the waiter a withering glare. Not only did he take another man’s life, he also interrupted Kazuma’s date! That’s unforgivable!

“You,” he says coldly, “will be paying a very big price for this crime.” 

“What?” The bobbies begin to drag him away. “Hey! No, no—”

Kazuma stares despairingly after them as they leave. His perfect dinner…

A few more officers start pouring in, securing the crime scene. Lestrade shouts a few orders at them, then turns back to Kazuma and Ryuunosuke with a suspicious look on her face.

“So,” she says, “don’t tell me Mr. Sholmes predicted the murder ‘nd sent you ‘ere to scope the place out?”

“No, we were just having dinner.” Ryuunosuke sounds less shaken now. He blinks at Lestrade. “It’s good to see you again, Gina. You’re an actual detective now, huh?”

“Wot do you mean?” Lestrade crosses her arms. “‘ave always been one!”

Ryuunosuke flushes. It’s unfortunately endearing. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like—”

Too late. Lestrade looks ticked off. She folds her arms. “Now scram! You ain’t defendin’ anyone in this case, so you can’t be ‘ere!”

“What?” Ryuunosuke sputters. “I can’t just leave! Someone is dead!” He turns pleadingly to Kazuma. “Kazuma, tell her! Let me investigate!”

Kazuma does not want to tell her. Kazuma wants to get out of here and find a way to salvage this dinner, but…Ryuunosuke is looking at him with the full brunt of his gaze, intensely soulful brown eyes meeting Kazuma’s…

Duty calls, Kazuma thinks glumly. He turns to Lestrade. “What if he acts as my assistant in the investigation?” 

Lestrade stares at him. “But ‘e’s a defense lawyer!” 

Kazuma sighs. “Lestrade. If you let us both take a look, I’ll tell you who van Zieks’ secret visitor was from a few days ago.”

That makes her perk up. “Is it embarrassin’?”

“Obviously.” 

Lestrade stares at him for a few more seconds, calculating. Then she huffs. “Fine! But I’m tellin’ Maria, too.”

“Of course.” Kazuma has no qualms about mortifying his boss.

“C’mon, then!” Lestrade grabs both of them by the arm and starts dragging them back towards the kitchen. “We don’t ‘ave time to lose!”

“Wh—” Kazuma and Ryuunosuke protest simultaneously, but she doesn’t relent. Kazuma glances over at Ryuunosuke, who locks eyes with him back and smiles.

Tearing up Her Majesty’s streets, huh?

Kazuma stares at the dead body on the floor and wishes he felt more thrilled about this.

“Well,” Ryuunosuke says when they finally leave, two hours later. “At least it wasn’t me who got arrested for murder in a restaurant this time.”

Kazuma stares mournfully at the restaurant sign. The sun is setting, but it’s so foggy today that it doesn’t even cast any romantically warm lighting. “...Yeah.”

“You alright, Kazuma?” Ryuunosuke asks. He looks unfairly okay with the whole situation. It’s just like him, to be so committed to his work. Kazuma can relate, usually. But after he spent so long preparing for his confession today… 

Before Kazuma can answer—though he honestly doesn’t know what he would’ve said—there’s a soft growl.

Ryuunosuke flushes, a hand drifting to his stomach. “Sorry. Still kind of hungry.” 

Right. Kazuma remembers, with horror, that they didn’t even get to eat this evening. This date has been completely and utterly ruined.

He desperately scours his brain for a way to salvage this. “There may still be some food vendors open. We can go—”

“No, it’s fine,” Ryuunosuke dismisses, so casually that Kazuma can hear his heart wail in pain. “I don’t know if I can eat after seeing the blood. And actually…” He hesitates, giving Kazuma an odd look. “I was thinking that I’d go talk to the waiter at the local prison before it closes.”

Kazuma stares at him. “What?”

Ryuunosuke glances away. He starts walking. After a stunned second, Kazuma jogs to catch up with him.

“I don’t know,” Ryuunosuke says after a moment. “I just have...an inkling. That we still don’t have a whole story.”

“You—” Kazuma can hardly believe his ears. “You’re not thinking of defending him, are you?” 

Ryuunosuke doesn’t respond to that. Kazuma crosses his arms. 

“The only other exit was locked from the inside, Ryuunosuke. The gun was found on him. You saw it with your own eyes today! It could be no one but that waiter!”

Ryuunosuke lifts his chin. “I guess we’ll resolve this in court, then.”

Kazuma nearly trips. “In— court?”

“Yeah.” Ryuunosuke stops in his tracks, mercifully, and tilts his head. “You’ll be taking on the prosecution, right?”

“I…” Kazuma gapes at him. Investigating together these past few hours had made him completely forget that, right—they’re supposed to be on opposite sides of the courtroom. Kazuma is not the defense attorney he first set out to be two years ago. Ryuunosuke has taken up that mantle, and far more admirably than anything Kazuma could have achieved. 

Kazuma’s first instinct is to say no way. This case would keep them both far too busy. He desperately needs time to recuperate from his shattered dreams today by screaming into his pillow and then plan for yet another opportunity to make his feelings clear. 

But then he thinks about it more. Facing Ryuunosuke again, locking eyes with him from across the courtroom in a battle of words and souls...Kazuma feels an anticipatory shiver run up his spine. 

Last time, neck-deep in the Professor case, Kazuma had been too distraught to properly appreciate the thrill of it. The honor of working with Ryuunosuke to fight for the truth. But now…

“I’ll ask van Zieks about it,” is what Kazuma ends up finally saying. “If he allows me to be on the case, then…”

“We can tear up Her Majesty’s courtroom again?” Ryuunosuke offers. He smiles, and Kazuma detects a hint of relief in his eyes, nearly overshadowed by a gleam of enthusiasm. He sticks out a hand.

Kazuma sucks in a breath. The sting of disappointment from this evening is starting to fade, replaced by mounting exhilaration. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially not from his partner.

Kazuma takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. It takes all his willpower not to intertwine their fingers together.

“Of course.”

The next morning, Kazuma marches into the Prosecutor’s Office nice and early and filled with determination.

“Lord van Z—”

“Let me guess.” Van Zieks is sitting at his desk, swirling his wine glass like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “You want to prosecute the restaurant murder case. Mr. Naruhodou’s client.”

Kazuma doesn’t ask how he knows already. He just nods. Van Zieks sighs deeply. 

“Well,” he says after a moment, “you were first on the scene and you have the most knowledge of this case. I would’ve given it to you even if you hadn’t asked.” 

Kazuma breathes out a sigh of relief. That was easy. “Thank you.”

“His trial is scheduled for tomorrow,” van Zieks continues. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Kazuma nods again, turning to head to his desk and write up the necessary reports. 

“And Asougi?”

Oh, apparently he’s not done. Kazuma looks back. He has a feeling he’s not going to like this next statement. “Yes?”

“I heard about the investigation yesterday,” van Zieks says. His eye twitches. “You would do well not to collude with the defense anymore for the duration of this case. For the sake of…impartiality, if nothing else.” 

Kazuma feels a surge of annoyance. Really? He scoffs. “I don’t think you get to talk to me about collusion, my Lord.” He pauses. “Actually, on that subject, how has Professor Harebrayne been these—”

CRASH!

A wine glass shatters against the wall, a few meters away from where Kazuma is standing. Van Zieks has stood up from his desk, glowering full force at Kazuma.

“I told you,” he growls, “to never bring that up ag—”

“...Am I interruptin’ sumfin’?”

Kazuma turns around to see Lestrade at the doorway. She must’ve forgotten to knock again, or at least didn’t care enough to. Some documents are tucked under her arm. She squints at the glass shards on the ground, brow furrowed in confusion. A year ago, she would’ve been quaking in terror. Now, she and Kazuma both know van Zieks isn’t shit. 

“Nothing,” van Zieks hisses, casting Kazuma a withering glare. Not a word, his scowl reads, loud and clear.

Too late, Kazuma thinks to himself. He had already shared the gossip with Lestrade last night, as promised. As van Zieks turns back to his work to sulk, Lestrade gives Kazuma a silent smirk.

“What are you here for, Lestrade?” Kazuma asks. 

“Got the chef’s autopsy report. From Maria.” Lestrade tosses him the documents. “You think Mr. Narra-’Oddo’s lost ‘is touch? ‘Cos it’s obviously the waiter wot did it!”

Flipping through the report, Kazuma has to admit, it is looking like that, but…

“This is Ryuunosuke we’re dealing with,” he says. “Who knows what truths he’ll stumble upon to show his client’s innocence.” 

Lestrade harrumphs. “Yeah, right! You better not go easy on ‘im tomorrow just ‘cos yer pals, you ‘ear me?”

“Of course I won’t.” Kazuma has been a prosecutor of the crown for over a year now. Just because Ryuunosuke got a head start on account of not having been amnesiac for months doesn’t mean Kazuma is lagging behind. He intends to show Ryuunosuke the full extent of his growth here in London. And then maybe kiss him on the lips afterwards. 

His heart skips a beat. Hearing about Ryuunosuke’s exploits in the Japanese courts had been delightful. But seeing it again with his own eyes, the two of them exchanging blow after blow, objection! after objection!, as Ryuunosuke throws out his hand and stares at Kazuma so intently he nearly burns into his soul—

Lestrade whacks him with the autopsy report.

“Ow!”

“Stop daydreamin’!” she huffs. “Do you even ‘ave the court record sorted yet?”

Kazuma glares at her, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll swing by Scotland Yard later. I need to stop by the Lord Chief Justice’s office, too. And interrogate the accused.”

“Well, then ‘urry up! I ain’t got all day!” Lestrade marches out of the office, the door slamming shut behind her. 

Kazuma sighs, settling into seiza in front of his desk. He just needs to power through one day. One day of busywork before he walks into the Old Bailey tomorrow and faces Ryuunosuke. And then, after the trial, after uncovering the truth and working up the courage to loosen his tongue and speak his heart again…

Kazuma will finally tell Ryuunosuke he loves him. He will.  

Kazuma doesn’t see Ryuunosuke for the rest of the day, and it’s maddening. Maybe van Zieks had been right about the impartiality thing, but still. While the anticipation of facing Ryuunosuke hums loudly in the back of his mind, it still doesn’t completely take away the irritation of his perfect plan being ruined by murder.

He fumes about it every second he can between filing subpoenas for witnesses and interrogating the accused and organizing the evidence.

As for the case itself, it’s pretty solid. The bullet inside the chef was fired from the gun found on the waiter. Witnesses didn’t see anyone else going in or out of the kitchen before the incident. The only thing that isn’t clear is a motive, which Kazuma normally wouldn’t care about, but he’s going up against Ryuunosuke, who will inevitably tear a hole in his reasoning through that avenue.

Kneeling in front of his desk late at night, quill in hand as he rehearses his arguments, Kazuma tries to anticipate Ryuunosuke’s possible objections in his head. After an entire year of imagining Ryuunosuke’s voice reading out the letters he’s received, it’s a comfortingly familiar endeavor.

The day of the trial is bright and sunny. Perfect for the date Kazuma could’ve been going on if someone hadn’t decided to get murdered in a restaurant. He fastens his jabot and slides his saber into the sheath around his waist and takes his evidence with him to the Old Bailey.

When he steps out of the carriage, Ryuunosuke is walking up the front steps. 

All thoughts of impartiality and court etiquette fly out the window.

“Ryuunosuke!” Kazuma calls. Ryuunosuke starts, turning around. He’s wearing a cap over his usually unruly hair, and Karuma peeks out from under his cape.

“Should we really be talking?” Ryuunosuke asks. He looks a little nervous. Huh, what happened to his bold challenge from two days ago?

“What, I can’t even say good morning?” Kazuma glances around. “No Susato as co-counsel?”

“She has her own trial to prepare for. It’s tomorrow afternoon,” Ryuunosuke explains. “So it’s just you and me.”

Kazuma feels a burst of pride for Susato—immediately followed by a rush of heat to his cheeks as he registers the second half of what he said. You and me…

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Well, then we better wrap up our trial today as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t want to risk it running till tomorrow and missing her big debut.”

That makes Ryuunosuke straighten. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” He tilts his chin up and squares his shoulders. “I won’t back down!”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kazuma says, because oh, now his brain decides to pull out the one-liners. When he’s supposed to have his head in a different kind of game. He coughs. “I’ll see you in the courtroom.”

With that, he turns and heads into the Old Bailey.

He hopes he left a lasting impression of confidence. He should be confident! Nearly all the evidence is in his favor. Most defense attorneys Kazuma has faced here in London would crumble in less than half an hour. 

But this is Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, the greatest man Kazuma has ever known (and loved). As Kazuma goes over the evidence one more time in the prosecutor’s antechamber, he knows he’ll put up a fight.

Kazuma has prepared himself for a whole year when it comes to truths and confessions about his feelings for Ryuunosuke. Surely that means he can handle this trial—this battle of kindred spirits—without a hitch.

“In the name of Her Majesty the Queen,” the judge announces, banging his gavel, “I hereby declare this court to be in session.”

As the judge speaks, Kazuma finds his gaze wandering to Ryuunosuke. He’s standing ramrod straight, his chest puffed out, his lips moving silently like he’s giving himself the pep talk that Susato usually gives him when she’s there.

Not that Kazuma is focusing on either of those parts of Ryuunosuke’s body in particular. He notes Ryuunosuke’s eyes, too—they don’t dart around as much as they used to. His hand fiddles with his armband. His cape swishes gently around him in an unseen breeze, reminding Kazuma of the hachimaki tied around Karuma’s hilt. 

Kazuma swallows. The palm he has wrapped around the hilt of his saber starts to get sweaty.

Without a hitch, he reminds himself weakly.

But…dreaming about Ryuunosuke standing across from him isn’t the same as physically seeing him there. It’s alien and familiar all at once. Kazuma chokes on the words pushing against his tongue—whether objection! or I love you! would’ve come out of his mouth is anyone’s guess.

He inhales deeply and resists the urge to slap himself out of it. It wouldn’t earn him any points with the judge.

It’s fine. He can hold it back for a few hours. He can be normal. He can totally go through this trial without weak knees or stuttering words or burning cheeks, staring at Ryuunosuke on the other side of the courtroom for the first time in a year—the way his new suit frames his broader shoulders, the definition of his chest visible beneath the taut fabric, the limp wrist resting ever so comfortably on the hilt of Kazuma’s soul…

Yes. So normal. 

“Counsels?”

Kazuma starts. The judge is looking at him expectantly.

“A-ah.” Kazuma clears his throat. “The prosecution is ready, My Lord.” 

“The defense is…ready,” Ryuunosuke echoes. 

The judge doesn’t look convinced by either of them. “Counsel for the Defense, it has been a while since you’ve defended in the Old Bailey, is that correct?”

“Y-yes, My Lord!” Ryuunosuke somehow manages to straighten even more. “But I assure you, I am fully prepared.”

The judge nods. “I am glad to hear it. Thank you, Counsels. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury?” 

The jury seems to be leaning towards guilty already. Kazuma sees Ryuunosuke flinch a little at their remarks. His posture doesn’t falter, though. His gaze finally slides to Kazuma, but Kazuma can’t read the look in his eyes. 

The tension is killing him. Kazuma looks away, lest he say or do something very unprofessional. 

“Your opening statement, if you please, Prosecutor Asougi,” the judge says, and it begins.

Now, Kazuma didn’t win that speech debate three years ago, but he still delivers his statement beautifully.

“It’s clear no one could’ve committed the crime except the accused.”

“Not true!” Ryuunosuke exclaims. “The gun was—”

“Counsel, save the cross-examination for the witness, not the prosecutor, please.” The judge bangs his gavel. “Call in the first witness!”

It’s Lestrade, who has gotten much better at not lashing out on the stand. She still ribs Ryuunosuke as much as she can, and Ryuunosuke seems to be floundering within her first two statements. Kazuma bites his tongue. A slow start. And here he was, so eager to get into the mood for—well. 

He doesn’t know if it’s triumph or disappointment in his gut right now. 

Halfway through pressing her testimony, Ryuunosuke goes quiet. He closes his eyes. Even from afar, Kazuma can see the rise and fall of his chest as he inhales.

What’s gotten to him? Come on, Ryuunosuke! Kazuma takes the opportunity to speak. “Are you too stunned for words already, my learned friend?” 

“Hm…” The judge’s brow furrows. “Perhaps he was not as prepared as he said he was. Counsel?”

Ryuunosuke doesn’t answer. Instead, slowly, he lifts his hands to his face—

And slaps himself on both cheeks. 

“Counsel?” the judge repeats, looking rather startled. The jurors murmur amongst themselves. It seems Ryuunosuke doesn’t have Kazuma’s qualms about such a display in the courtroom.

Another beat of silence passes. Ryuunosuke finally opens his eyes.

And they’re burning with resolve. 

“Hold it!” he shouts, loud enough to make Kazuma jump. Then—

Then he fucking grins.

“Patience is a virtue, my learned friend,” Ryuunosuke says calmly. Kazuma stares, gaping. “I was just thinking about Miss Lestrade’s last statement. You said the revolver was fired from the doorway! But—” He slams his hands on the bench. “—there was gunpowder on the victim’s clothes! Meaning he was shot at point-blank range!”

Kazuma balks. “What?”

“Wot?” Lestrade stamps her foot. “But no—that’s not possi—!”

“I have the evidence here!” Ryuunosuke exclaims, and then it finally begins—

For real this time.

Ryuunosuke picks up speed faster than light, throwing contradiction after contradiction at him, poking hole after hole in his ironclad arguments. Kazuma can barely keep up as he shouts back. It makes his head spin brilliantly— Ryuunosuke was already impressive a year ago, but he’s on another level now.

“The victim was shot twice!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Kazuma fires back. “We were there! We only heard one gunshot!”

“He was first shot at an earlier time, when no patrons were around!”

“Then how do you explain the time of death?”

“Faked when he was put in the restaurant’s freezer!”

It keeps going back and forth. Every time Ryuunosuke seems to falter, he always manages to regain his footing. Kazuma grits his teeth and keeps pushing. With every other defense attorney, it can be infuriating to put up with their constant needling, but—the sound of Ryuunosuke’s voice, the intensity of his gaze as he fixes his eyes on Kazuma…

If Kazuma’s throat could handle shouting all day long, and if they didn’t have something tomorrow that required them to wrap up this case, he would be content to continue this trial forever. Just to see Ryuunosuke’s craftiness at work.

It almost comes to an end too soon. Kazuma manages to claw his way back into the jurors’ favor by pointing out that there was no opportunity for the body to be moved to the kitchen, and they start discussing with vigor. 

“My Lord!” the foreman exclaims. “We have reached an agreement!”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen. “Wait—no!”

When the six jurors bang their fists in a unified chorus of guilty!, Kazuma exhales, vindicated. Just as he had thought. He casts another glance at Ryuunosuke, trying to gauge his reaction.

Ryuunosuke doesn’t even look at him as he slams his fist on the bench again.

“The defense wishes to assert its right to a summation examination, My Lord!”

Kazuma blinks in surprise. It seems like he’s the only one, though. The gallery barely murmurs around them, and the judge doesn’t even flinch. 

He’s only heard about Ryuunosuke’s use of this antiquated procedure from van Zieks, since the one trial in which he faced Ryuunosuke last year hadn’t had a jury. No other defense attorney has tried such a trick, but then again, none of them could ever be as charmingly persuasive as Ryuunosuke (and Kazuma definitely isn’t biased in saying that).

“The prosecution has no objection,” Kazuma says. The judge gives him an odd look.

“Even if you did, Counsel, it would not matter.” He adjusts his spectacles and turns back to Ryuunosuke. “You may now take the stand.” 

Right. The prosecution has to stay out entirely during this procedure. Kazuma folds his arms, scowling, as the jurors begin explaining themselves. 

He is not sulking about being left out. He’s just…neutrally observing. How Ryuunosuke is so focused on the jurors, and not on him. Kazuma can’t even interject until it’s over. He tries not to scowl harder.

At least he can watch Ryuunosuke pace around with that pensive look on his face, working his magic. Ryuunosuke really has a way with words, which Kazuma can appreciate even when the words are being used against him.

Soon enough, four of the jurors cave, switching back to not guilty. Kazuma perks up.

The fight is on again.

Ryuunosuke doesn’t slow down. If anything, there’s a new fire inside him—perhaps he’s struck on another theory? Kazuma fights back the best he can, but now it feels like he’s backed against a wall, with Ryuunosuke closing in on him…

Kazuma quickly erases that mental image from his mind before he can get distracted.

Finally, the other shoe drops. Ryuunosuke slams the bench again and thrusts out the business card that had been found in the freezer that day. 

“It was not the waiter who was there that morning,” Ryuunosuke declares, “but the restaurant’s investor! He’s the only one who could’ve committed the crime!”

That sends the courtroom into an uproar. The judge has to bang his gavel for a solid ten seconds to quiet everyone down. Then he calls a recess to summon the new suspect.

Kazuma checks the clock once he enters the prosecutor’s antechamber. Hours have flown by, and his feet are even sore from standing so long, but—they’re in the home stretch now. He can feel it.

“Lestrade,” he says, “come with me to fetch the witness.”

“Don’t tell me wot to do,” Lestrade grumbles, even as she gathers the documents in her bag. She pauses to give him a reproachful look. “‘e’s really kickin’ yer arse in there, you know.”

Kazuma bites his tongue. “Thank you, Lestrade. I do know.”

She huffs. “I told you not to go easy on ‘im!” 

“I’m not!”

Lestrade rolls her eyes and marches out of the antechamber. 

“Grown-ups,” he hears her mutter before the doors swing shut behind her. He sighs and follows her.

Thirty minutes later, they’re back in the courtroom. Ryuunosuke has not lost steam during the break. He lays into the new witness—an austere, calm businessman who shows little reaction to the accusations thrown at him at first, but Kazuma can see his mask begin to crack as the cross-examination continues.

Finally, it breaks apart completely. 

“This is absurd!” the businessman seethes. He turns to Kazuma. “You! Prosecutor! Why aren’t you stopping this? That dull-witted serving boy is going to get away with his crimes!”

For a moment, Kazuma hesitates, clenching his fist with a scowl. Losing has never felt good, in any respect. He has appearances and pride to maintain. Knowing his perfectly-crafted arguments weren’t enough always comes with a sting.

But then his gaze slides to Ryuunosuke again, who’s looking back at him, and finally, Kazuma can understand the expression on his face. 

Pure, unfaltering trust.

His words from a year ago echo in Kazuma’s head.

I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for the truth.

Kazuma won’t lose because he hasn’t grown. He’ll lose because he has.  

“Indeed,” he says slowly, “I have a duty to lock away London’s criminals.”

“Exactly—” the businessman starts, but Kazuma doesn’t let him finish.

“But—” He slams the bench. “It is becoming increasingly clear to me that you are the one who belongs in prison!”

It is viciously satisfying to see the man turn as pale as a sheet. Ryuunosuke smiles at him, and suddenly the entire battle has been more than worth it.

The bailiffs have to drag the man kicking and screaming from the stand. The last two jurors switch their leanings. The judge reaches for his gavel. 

“Very well,” he says. “I hereby pronounce the defendant…not guilty!”

The gavel slams down and cheers fill the courtroom. Kazuma looks at Ryuunosuke again, who locks eyes with him.

Thank you, partner, Ryuunosuke mouths.

Kazuma’s knees buckle. He leans against the bench.

(He decides to blame it equally on the exhaustion of standing for six hours and on his suddenly pounding heart.)

Kazuma waits for Ryuunosuke outside the Old Bailey, food in hand. He’d bought some off the street vendors outside when he left. He’s starving after the trial, but he refrains from eating just yet.

Ryuunosuke emerges ten minutes later and looks startled to see him there.

“Kazuma? What are you still doing here?”

In lieu of answering, Kazuma thrusts out a bag of food. “I bought us something to eat. To congratulate you on the win, partner.”

“Oh!” Ryuunosuke takes it, smiling sheepishly. “T-thank you. You didn’t have to.” 

“Of course I did,” Kazuma says, nudging him. “You were amazing in there today. As always.” 

Ryuunosuke flushes, looking away, and Kazuma feels his heart flutter. 

Now’s a chance, he realizes. To at least partially make up for his ruined restaurant plans. He clears his throat. “Do you want to find some place to sit down and eat?”

Ryuunosuke blinks, tilting his head. “Don’t you have post-trial paperwork to do?”

Oh, right. Kazuma decides to ignore that for now. He’ll deal with van Zieks’ hissy fit later. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it tomorrow. Let’s celebrate.”

Ryuunosuke hesitates, for a moment. Then his smile widens and he nods. “Sure. Why not?”

Kazuma counts that as a win of his own. 

As they walk, he has to resist the urge to take Ryuunosuke’s hand. Patience. The trial’s over, meaning Kazuma’s brain finally has room to think about his plans again. He wonders, faintly, if Ryuunosuke is going to bring up the botched confession in the restaurant. Does he even remember Kazuma’s words? Kazuma really hopes not. He wants to start over on a blank slate. For a perfect moment. 

They find a small park to sit at, one Kazuma passes by frequently on his way back from the courthouse. There’s not another soul around except a few birds flitting from tree to tree. 

“Let’s sit here,” Kazuma says, and Ryuunosuke nods.

The food isn’t that good, though maybe Kazuma’s been spoiled by Iris’ home-cooked meals. Ryuunosuke doesn’t seem to mind, scarfing it down in a matter of minutes.

Between bites, Kazuma takes the time to mull over what to say. His head is still spinning a little from the thrill of the trial. He doesn’t think he has enough words to compliment how beautiful Ryuunosuke was in court today. He has to try, though. He takes a deep breath, opening his mouth.

“Ryuunosuke, you—”

“Kazuma, I wanted to—”

They both pause, looking at each other. Kazuma wants to laugh at how connected their minds are. He waves a hand.

“Go ahead. Winners first.”

“Ah—” Ryuunosuke turns pink. “I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did in court. I couldn’t have gotten the verdict without you.”

Kazuma feels his heart glow. Losing really was worth it, to achieve the correct verdict. To see Ryuunosuke’s stunning display in court. “You were right from the beginning. And you fought so hard for your client. I didn’t stand a chance when it’s you looking for the truth.”

“Come on,” Ryuunosuke huffs. “You were amazing today, too. And you helped at the end! Although you were really pushing me into a corner for the first half.” He pauses. “You’re kind of scary sometimes, Kazuma. Maybe van Zieks is rubbing off on you.” 

“Wh—” Kazuma sputters, offended. “Don’t you dare say that again.” 

Ryuunosuke laughs. The sound is more than enough compensation for the insult.

“But really,” Ryuunosuke continues, sobering up. “Seeing you in court again…” He swallows. Kazuma’s eyes totally don’t fixate on the bob of his throat. “It had me thinking. About a lot of things.”

Kazuma sits up a little straighter. “Yeah?” he prompts.

“We’ve both changed,” Ryuunosuke says softly. “Definitely for the better. Since the last time we saw each other in court.” He pauses. “The last time we saw each other at all, actually.”

On the docks of Dover. Kazuma parting with his soul and soulmate. 

But Ryuunosuke is here again, on the same bench as him less than a meter away, and Kazuma is struck by how much he’s missed him. How he doesn’t have to miss him anymore. 

The familiar three words, laid dormant as the trial took up the forefront of his mind, are inching back onto his tongue. It’s just so easy, to be in love with Ryuunosuke. To want to shout it to the world.

But Kazuma knows the importance of timing. He looks for his opening as he responds.

“For one thing,” he says, lighter than a feather, “you’re not wearing your schoolboy uniform anymore. About time.”

Ryuunosuke snorts. “Yeah. Susato-san took me shopping the week we got back. The armband is still yours, though.”

Kazuma blinks. “Really? You never got your own?” 

“Never needed to,” Ryuunosuke replies, and Kazuma feels like he could float away on this feeling. His expression suddenly falters. “Wait, I hope that’s okay with you—”

Sometimes he flips back to his mild-mannered, modest self so quickly it surprises him. Kazuma waves a hand. “Of course it is, Ryuunosuke. I trusted you with Karuma, after all.”

“R-right…” Ryuunosuke looks relieved. His hand drifts to Karuma’s hilt. “Karuma. Your soul.” He says it so softly it gives him goosebumps.

Then he stands, suddenly. He faces Kazuma and pulls Karuma out of its sheath.

Kazuma’s breath catches. He hasn’t seen his katana out in so long. Its straight, sleek blade shines in the waning sunlight, pristine enough that Kazuma can see his own reflection in it, and the tip—

Its tip is no longer broken. It’s as sharp as it used to be.

“I got it repaired back in Tokyo,” Ryuunosuke says. He must’ve seen the shock on Kazuma’s face. He smiles sheepishly. “I was going to tell you earlier, but we’ve kind of been busy.”

That’s an understatement. Kazuma stares, too overwhelmed to speak.

“The blade’s a little shorter now,” Ryuunosuke continues, turning the katana in his hands, “but hopefully they did an okay job.”

“Okay?” Kazuma finally remembers how to form words. “This is perfect, Ryuunosuke. Thank you.”

Ryuunosuke looks away, his ears turning an endearing pink. “It’s the least I could do.” He tilts Karuma slightly. Kazuma notes with surprise that his grip on the hilt is actually correct. “So, do you…want it back now?”

Kazuma pauses.

He had resolved to take Karuma back, one day. The final case a year ago had left him raw and bitter. The air of London and everyone in it felt oppressive; he couldn’t even look van Zieks in the eye. He knew that if he had Karuma in his hands he would do something reckless. 

But now? Kazuma’s hands are steadier than they have ever been. Baker Street is starting to feel like home, and while it will never be the same as growing up in Japan and having the Mikotobas and Ryuunosuke at his side, it’s still something he’s gotten used to.

Ryuunosuke was right; they have both changed for the better, and Kazuma’s judgment is now clear enough to appreciate that. So maybe he is ready to wield Karuma again.

Except...there is another reason he wants Ryuunosuke to hold onto it. Because Kazuma trusts no one, not even himself, more than he trusts Ryuunosuke. Because Ryuunosuke holds onto Karuma like it was meant to be. Because actions apparently speak louder than words, and Kazuma thinks giving his soul to Ryuunosuke might be the most meaningful thing he’s ever done.

“Not now,” he says, eventually, after realizing he may have paused a bit too long for a normal person. “I want you to keep it a while longer.”

Ryuunosuke’s brow furrows. “Why?”

You look stunning with a katana, Kazuma wants to say. What comes out of his mouth is, “You would do well to carry a sword around at all times. It adds to your image.”

Ryuunosuke snorts, even as his eyes soften. “Are you sure?”

Kazuma nods. Ryuunosuke glances away for a second. He doesn’t sheathe Karuma.

“Well, then…” Ryuunosuke suddenly seems a little nervous. “I have something to ask, if that’s okay?”

Kazuma blinks. “What is it?” He gets a sudden sense of deja vu.

Ryuunosuke begins pacing around, as if he were doing a summation examination. There’s none of that pressure now, though. None of that distance, nor the audience that came with it. Ryuunosuke is only focused on him. 

The thought makes him shiver.

“This past year in Japan…” Ryuunosuke starts. “I’ve carried Karuma everywhere with me. Like you did. As a reminder.”

Kazuma feels his heartbeat quicken. “A reminder of what?”

“Of what we fought for in that trial a year ago,” Ryuunosuke murmurs.  “And of what we fought for today. And most importantly, just—of you.”

Kazuma almost chokes on his own breath. Ryuunosuke pauses in his pacing and looks at him. 

“Kazuma,” he says. Despite the intensity of his gaze, his voice is as soft as silk. “When we were apart, I was always thinking of you. Thinking of when we would meet again.”

“Me, too,” Kazuma whispers. Has Kazuma been on Ryuunosuke’s mind as much as Ryuunosuke has been on his? His heart suddenly threatens to burst out of his chest. 

The deja vu is back. It sounds like Ryuunosuke is leading towards something. Something big, like…

Kazuma looks at the evidence—Ryuunosuke’s flushed cheeks (not from the cold or heat, since the weather is mild today), his sentimental rambling (somehow sounding spontaneous and rehearsed all at once), and, okay, the rose-tinted glasses of his own heart (not admissible in a real court of law, but the rules of love are different in his book)—and then it clicks.

Could it be…that Ryuunosuke is gearing to confess as well? 

The thought nearly sweeps him off his feet. He never considered that Ryuunosuke would try to make a first move. Two years ago, when they were just friends at Yuumei, it had seemed very unlikely. But now? Ryuunosuke is right—they’ve both changed. Ryuunosuke especially, carrying himself with such confidence in court today and even now, just the two of them in the park, having a heart-to-heart.

Is this really happening? Is it finally—?

“And now that we’re finally here together, I want to see exactly just how much we’ve changed,” Ryuunosuke continues. “As lawyers and as partners.”

Fuck, he’s not even allowing Kazuma time to breathe.

Slowly, Ryuunosuke holds out Karuma, blade angled slightly towards him. Almost on instinct, Kazuma unsheathes his saber and crosses their swords together—just like they did when Ryuunosuke departed a year ago. 

Their blades touch with a light clink, and Kazuma feels electricity run down his spine as if they’d made skin-to-skin contact.

Say it now, Kazuma thinks, half in daze. Beat him to the punch. It’s just another challenge, another friendly (or more than friendly) competition to beat Ryuunosuke in. But suddenly, in this crucial moment…his mouth has frozen shut. He can barely breathe as he anticipates the next words from Ryuunosuke’s lips.

“I’ve prepared a lot, actually,” Ryuunosuke says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if I’ll be any good at this, but I figured I could try. And with you, I definitely want to. I mean, you already gave me your soul, so I thought…why not?”

If Kazuma weren’t sitting down, he might’ve fallen over from swooning at this point. 

“N-no pressure, of course.” Ryuunosuke shifts on his feet. “But I wanted to ask if we could do something different. If we could—”

Kazuma can’t keep quiet any longer.

“Yes!” he blurts out, heart hammering in his chest. “God, a thousand times yes.”

Ryuunosuke gapes. “I…didn’t even finish yet?”

“I know what you were going to say,” Kazuma says, giddy. “Ryuunosuke, I’ve been waiting for you to ask this for so long.”

“Really?” Ryuunosuke laughs, a little nervously. “I didn’t know you were so enthusiastic about sparring with me.”

“Of cou—” The last part of Ryuunosuke’s statement finally registers. “Wait, what?”

“...Sparring?” Ryuunosuke gestures at their swords. “To see how strong we’ve become. In another respect.”

Kazuma gapes at him. He nearly drops his saber.

His heart splinters into a million pieces.

Was that what Ryuunosuke meant? Just a sparring session? Nothing that involved the romantic declarations Kazuma has been fantasizing about? 

What the fuck, he almost wails, but thankfully his jaw is frozen open and he can’t make a sound.

Ryuunosuke looks terribly confused. He lowers Karuma. “Uh, what did you think I was asking?”

Kazuma didn’t think it was possible for all his hopes and dreams to come crumbling down this quickly. But it’s not even his fault! Why would Ryuunosuke preface this with such flowery, sentimental language? Even for a debate kid turned lawyer, that’s a bit much—Kazuma is hardly to blame for misinterpreting.

Still, he needs to find a way to salvage this disaster of a thought. “N-not important,” he stutters, his cheeks flushing. God, this is embarrassing as hell. He coughs. “Wait, but you mean—right now?”

“Well, the park’s empty. And we’ve still got the adrenaline rush from the trial,” Ryuunosuke says. “That was like a warm-up for this.”

Kazuma stares, still in disbelief. “A warm-up?”

Ryuunosuke turns red. “W-well, our trials together are basically just sword fights, but with words. Speaking daggers but using none.”

That’s—! Kazuma chokes back a slightly hysterical laugh at the comparison. “Is that a quote from something, my learned friend?”

Ryuunosuke looks embarrassed. “Hamlet. But my point still stands!”

“You…” Kazuma’s brain is scrambling to keep up with the conversation. “You couldn’t even do kyuudou archery. Can you wield a katana?”

“Hey!” Ryuunosuke protests, flushing. “One, that was three years ago, and two, I can! I started training with Karuma back in Japan.”

It’s just surprise after surprise today. “You did?” So his holding Karuma correctly wasn’t a coincidence?”

Ryuunosuke nods. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you, so I didn’t mention it in our letters.”

Kazuma would be impressed if his very overwhelmed brain had the capacity to hold any more emotions or thoughts. 

“So…” Ryuunosuke is starting to look a little uncertain now. “Do you still want to spar? I mean, you don’t have to. I was just asking.”

Kazuma stares. So much for relaxing after the trial. But then again, Kazuma isn’t much for relaxing. And Ryuunosuke’s right: the adrenaline rush of their court battle hasn’t dissipated just yet.

“You sure you could handle it?” Kazuma asks warily. “I wouldn’t want to send you to the hospital by accident.” Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating a little, but still—he absolutely does not want to injure Ryuunosuke. That would be the fastest way to end his chances of rescuing their romance for good.

Ryuunosuke blanches a little, but quickly shakes his head and straightens his shoulders. “I-I’ll be fine!” He tilts his chin up. “Really. Susato-san said I’ve been improving quickly, so…”

Kazuma blinks. That’s fairly high praise, coming from her—she usually doesn’t give out compliments so arbitrarily. “Then what would be the rules?”

Ryuunosuke starts. “What?”

Kazuma is beginning to suspect that Ryuunosuke really didn’t think this proposal through. One way they’re different, he supposes. Kazuma would’ve taken hours to rehearse his words to perfection. 

“How would we decide who wins?” Kazuma clarifies. 

“Uh…” Ryuunosuke scratches his chin, glancing around the park. “How about…” He points the katana at a circular patch of grass in the middle of the park, relatively flat and surrounded by a cobbled path. “We could start in the middle there. And whoever falls or gets knocked out of the grass first loses.”

Oh, right. Even when Ryuunosuke doesn’t rehearse, he’s still quick-witted enough to come up with a solution and pull through. It’s what Kazuma admires about him.

Kazuma thinks about it more. He does enjoy a good challenge. He kind of needs one, too—he’s only sparred with van Zieks this past year, and van Zieks is painfully predictable. It’s getting boring, to be honest. Kazuma could use some excitement.

And it wouldn’t hurt to be able to see Ryuunosuke’s skills, the product of his training. How he handles Karuma, his soul, breathless from the fight as his muscles shift underneath his dark suit…

Kazuma stands suddenly, hoping his cheeks aren’t red. “Fine by me. Let’s spar, partner. Show me what you’ve got.”

Ryuunosuke brightens. “I won’t disappoint!”

Kazuma knows he could never. 

They move away from the bench and to the center of the grass. As they walk, Kazuma weighs his chances. He trains frequently enough to be able to easily dispatch the criminals that occasionally target him and van Zieks. But the quality of his generic saber pales in comparison to his prized Karuma—Ryuunosuke will be much faster with his katana. Still, perhaps his footwork will have some weaknesses that could knock him off-balance…

Ryuunosuke steps a couple paces away, then pivots to face him, Karuma poised in front of him. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Kazuma’s breath stutters when he opens them.

Ryuunosuke’s nervousness from earlier is gone, just like how quickly it had disappeared in court. His eyes are dark, even as the light of the sun makes both their swords shine blindingly white. Karuma looks far more majestic than his saber; Ryuunosuke is the most beautiful of them all.

“Ready?” Ryuunosuke asks.

Kazuma nods, lowering himself into position. “Good luck, partner.”

“Good luck.” Ryuunosuke takes a step forward. He lifts Karuma above his head. 

And then he swings.

Clang!

The first clash of their blades sends a spark up Kazuma’s arm, lighting a fire inside him. He can’t help but grin as he wrenches his saber free and lunges. 

It’s on.

Ryuunosuke’s form isn’t perfect. But he still meets Kazuma blow for blow, deflecting strikes from every direction without leaving himself too open. It’s unpredictable. It’s exhilarating. It’s everything Kazuma feels when he’s with Ryuunosuke. Despite the fact they’ve never done this before, it feels familiar. Natural. Like they’re attuned to each other already. 

And another constant: apparently, Ryuunosuke loves to talk during sparring. Somehow it doesn’t seem to slow him down at all. 

“How—” Ryuunosuke gasps. “Are you still so fast? Did you keep up your training?”

Kazuma parries a blow. “Van Zieks makes me practice every week between cases. It’s part of my routine as his apprentice.”

“Of course it is.” Ryuunosuke swings diagonally, nearly slicing off his jabot.

Kazuma is forced to take a step back. He risks a quick glance—he’s closer to the path than Ryuunosuke. He curses. Not good. 

Ryuunosuke’s eyes light up in surprise, then triumph. “So if I beat you, could I beat him?”

Kazuma narrows his eyes, gripping the hilt harder. “Don’t count on that first part.” Time to step up his game.

He strikes again, and Ryuunosuke’s counter this time leaves his right side open. Kazuma turns his wrist to use the flat side of the saber. Ryuunosuke yelps and dodges, narrowly avoiding being smacked in the stomach. 

There. That puts them on roughly even ground again. Ryuunosuke readjusts his grip on Karuma. 

“Is that all you got?” Kazuma goads, because apparently Ryuunosuke’s talkativeness is affecting him too, now. Ryuunosuke huffs and thrusts the katana forward again.

It’s like a dance. Something far more elegant and electrifying than the convoluted deductions Sholmes drags him through. And Ryuunosuke’s comparison was right, too, even if it sounded ridiculous. It’s their courtroom battle of words, except it’s more. They don’t have to hold back. They’re neck-and-neck, limbs and blades coming so close in contact that Kazuma can feel Ryuunosuke’s warmth as if it’s his own.

Every cell in his body sings with the reverberation of Karuma clanging against his saber. He can see Ryuunosuke start to smile, too, as they settle into a rhythm of stab and parry. One step forward, one step back, as their bodies whirl, intertwined, in the same space. 

Perhaps Kazuma’s pride should be wounded by the fact that Ryuunosuke is keeping pace with him, but he’s not surprised. At this point, Ryuunosuke can take on anything.

“Are you going easy on me?” Ryuunosuke asks when Kazuma has to block his swings five times in a row without an attack. His voice is edged with mischief. “I hope not.”

Kazuma scoffs and, to prove himself, strikes at Ryuunosuke’s head. In a flash, Karuma comes up to counter him. The force pushes both of them back and away from each other.

They’re equidistant from the bounds of their battle. 

“I would never,” Kazuma says, stepping forward with his saber ready. “Just don’t make me break my own katana.” 

Ryuunosuke laughs, at that, and Kazuma— stupidly— stumbles to a halt.

He knows he’s in the middle of a fight right now, but he can’t help it. And Ryuunosuke seems to have stopped, too. His voice rings clear through the air, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips quirked into a smile. In the setting sun, he looks impossibly gorgeous, his face outlined in something even more precious than gold. The light breeze tousles his hair as the two of them pant, out of breath.

An epiphany strikes.

This is it.

This is the moment Kazuma has been waiting for this past year. He never imagined it exactly like this, but all the important elements are here. The atmospheric sunset. The buzz of anticipation in the air. Ryuunosuke in front of him, face lit with joy, his eyes on Kazuma and Kazuma alone.

Perhaps it was a blessing that his plans for the docks of Dover and the Baker Street restaurant failed. Because this is the perfect moment to tell Ryuunosuke he loves him. And even though Kazuma didn’t plan for this…maybe it’s time for spontaneity. For winging it and forging ahead, like he’s taken a page out of Ryuunosuke’s book.

“I won’t hold back, either.” Ryuunosuke grins, and Kazuma can feel his heart physically try to claw out of his chest. “You ready for more?”

“Always, with you,” Kazuma murmurs automatically, barely hearing his words. His ears ring from dizzying hope.

He can allow himself one more moment. He briefly lowers his saber and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He needs to muster all of his courage for these words again. 

“Ryuunosuke,” he starts. “I love y—”

Shiiiing!

A sharp pain drives straight into Kazuma’s abdomen. His eyes fly open. 

The color drains from Ryuunosuke’s face.

“Shit.” He stumbles back, away from Kazuma, strangely empty-handed. “Fuck—Kazuma—are you okay? Oh god, stupid question, fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“Huh?” Kazuma tries to take a step forward, but his knees buckle. He looks down.

Karuma’s blade is embedded in his stomach.

“Oh,” he says faintly. Oh no. 

Ryuunosuke rushes forward as he falls, catching him by his shoulders. He’s still blabbering.

“I’m so so sorry—shit, there’s so much blood—we have to get you to the hospital—I didn’t mean to, I swear! I thought you would dodge that! You said you were ready!”

Kazuma stares down at his stomach, still in disbelief. Or maybe it’s the delirium. Did Ryuunosuke…really stab him? 

He touches the fabric on his abdomen. His hand comes away stained with red.

Yep. Ryuunosuke definitely stabbed him. 

Kazuma’s head suddenly feels too heavy to keep up. He lolls to the side, leaning against Ryuunosuke’s chest. It’s warm, and solid, and feels like the nicest pillow Kazuma has ever slept on.

All of a sudden Ryuunosuke’s face is startlingly close. 

“Kazuma!” he pleads. “Stay with me. Come on—” Kazuma feels something jostle him, and he jerks in pain. Distantly, he realizes Ryuunosuke’s hand is wrapped around Karuma’s hilt.

“Nnno…” Kazuma tries. His tongue feels like lead. “L…‘eave it’n.” He really doesn’t want to bleed out all over Ryuunosuke. 

“Huh?” Ryuunosuke lets go of the weapon like it burns him, frantic. “Fuck—you’re right! Okay, okay. I just gotta…get you someplace—”

Stars begin to dance in his vision, too bright. Kazuma turns his head, pressing his face against the crook of Ryuunosuke’s neck. He closes his eyes. 

The adrenaline is starting to fade, and the ache worsens with every little movement. The only solace is Ryuunosuke’s warmth. Kazuma reaches out blindly and manages to find one of Ryuunosuke’s hands. 

Their fingers intertwine, and Kazuma, in his daze, thinks, Finally.

Ryuunosuke is still rambling in panic, it seems. Kazuma hasn’t registered a single word he said in the past minute. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Ryuu…” Kazuma murmurs, half-muffled by the fabric of Ryuunosuke’s suit. “Love you.”

“What?” Ryuunosuke sputters. Kazuma feels the grip on his shoulder tightens. “Oh god, the blood loss is making him lose it.” 

He says the second part half to himself. Kazuma barely understands anymore—every sound and sensation around him is starting to blur together. All he’s really aware of now is his katana lodged in his organs, burning him up from the inside.

Karuma really is an impressive blade. It hurts like hell and back. 

So Kazuma almost welcomes the exhaustion as it pulls him under, away from Ryuunosuke’s embrace and voice, and plunges him into black. 

Consciousness crawls back to him slowly, in pieces. 

Hurts, is the first thought that crosses his mind, even though—it doesn’t, really. His body feels overwhelmed and numb at the same time. Pressure builds in his head, prodding at the outskirts of his awareness until he can actually feel the solidness of his limbs.

It takes a slow, indescribable moment of time for him to realize that the dull ringing in his ears is actually noise.

It sounds like overlapping timbres, measured and familiar. But he can’t make out anything beyond that. Everything sounds muffled, far away, like he’s underwater. He tries to breathe and sharpen them into clarity. 

“...be okay?”

“...lucky…in time…”

Voices, he realizes. He strains his ears, even as the crescendoing volume begins to drive spikes in his temples. Voices he can distinguish, finally. Voices he can recognize.

“—can’t believe you! After everything Kazuma-sama has done for you—”

“Susato-san, please, I didn’t mean to! It was an acci—WAAAGH!”

CRASH!

(Kazuma would’ve jumped from the noise if he had control over his body right now.) 

“If he dies, I’ll never forgive you!” 

“My dear, my dear, let’s calm down!” A third voice, much more jovial than the first two. “Do you doubt your father and friend’s medical prowesses so much that you believe they cannot save Mr. Asougi’s life from such a minor scrape?” 

“A minor scrape? Mr. Naruhodou ran him clean through!”

“Yes! Just a minor scrape of his organs. A few centimeters to the left, and Mr. Asougi surely would’ve bled to death in minutes! Fortunate, is he not?”

“Mr. Sholmes—!”

“Susato, calm down.” The fourth voice sounds weary, if not concerned. “Let’s resolve this civilly.” 

Kazuma finally gathers the strength to open his eyes.

The light above him is so blinding he can’t see anything, for a moment. He has to blink a few more times for everything to settle into focus. 

Damp, wooden ceiling beams cover much of his sight. Daylight filters through the window. Moving his eyes around, he can only see the sleeve of a yellow patterned kimono to his right, and in the very corner of his periphery, partially obscured, a furious Susato rearing her arm back, book in hand. She throws. 

“Ow! S-Susato-san, please—”

“Haori, can you hand me that heavy tome over there?”

“Wait, no—!”

“Got it!”

The yellow sleeve moves, allowing Kazuma a view of the rest of the room. He’s in the attic of 221B, he realizes. Murasame is closest to him. Sholmes is lounging near the doorway. Mikotoba is anxiously reaching for Susato’s arm. Kazuma notes belatedly that she’s dressed differently than usual—a black suit and cap, strikingly similar to Ryuunosuke’s outfit. 

And Ryuunosuke himself is sprawled on the floor, clutching his head. A half-open book lies next to him. In his free hand is Karuma, tucked back into its sheath. 

Suddenly, it all comes back to him. The trial. The park. Ryuunosuke swinging Karuma, his hands perfectly steady, his face so radiantly beautiful as Kazuma opened his mouth to say those three words…

The excruciating pain in his abdomen. The blood soaking his uniform.

Ah. Right.  

God, Kazuma can’t believe he was worried about injuring Ryuunosuke. How ironic.

He peers at his stomach. At least they got Karuma out of him okay. 

“Careful, dear!” Sholmes exclaims, sounding a little too delighted by the tense stand-off in front of him. “You wouldn’t want to give Mikotoba another patient so quickly, would you?”

“But he hurt Kazuma-sama! He needs to pay!”

Stop shouting, Kazuma wants to say. It gives him a headache. But what comes out of his mouth is instead a weak, “S-st…”

It gets everyone’s attention, at least.

“Kazuma-sama!” Susato cries. She drops her book-turned-weapon with a loud thud and nearly flings herself at him, then seems to reconsider—instead, she just hovers anxiously at his bedside. Her eyes shine with tears. “Thank goodness you’re awake!”

“Su…” he croaks. His throat burns. “What…”

She helps him sit up, then turns to grab a glass of water off the nearby dresser. “Here. Drink.” 

His arms feel heavy, but he manages to take the glass and lift it to his lips. His hands tremble so badly he nearly spills half of it. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, successfully this time.

Mikotoba approaches, relief clear in his expression. “How are you feeling, Kazuma?”

His body is still numb, but vaguely he can feel the return of a dull throbbing in his abdomen. He looks down again and finally notices that someone had taken off his uniform—his upper body is bare except for some bandages wrapped around his midriff, tinged with red. “Not ideal.”

“Sorry, Asougi-san,” Murasame says apologetically. “The anesthesia will take some time to wear off.” 

Kazuma nods, craning his neck to look around again. “Y-you…brought me back to 221B?”

“It was closer than the hospital.” Mikotoba sighs. “Luckily, I was already here with Sholmes and Iris. Ryuunosuke gave us quite a fright when he brought you back yesterday.” 

“A duel!” Sholmes butts in. “How exciting! Although I was under the impression that Mr. Asougi was the stronger swordsman of the two.” He turns to Ryuunosuke. “How did you best him, Mr. Naruhodou? Was it the boxing technique I taught you?”

Ryuunosuke is just getting up from the ground, wincing as he rubs his head. He won’t look at Kazuma. “Uh…I…” He shrinks back from Susato’s glare, directed at him again.

Kazuma coughs. “It’s not his fault.”

Everyone turns dubiously to stare at him.

Kazuma’s cheeks burn. He can’t very well explain it like, I wasn’t thinking straight because Ryuunosuke is so beautiful he scrambles my brain. Instead he just settles on, “I got distracted. During our duel.”

Mikotoba’s brow knits. “Still…Naruhodou used excessive force with Karuma. It cut clean through some very solid muscle. I know he has been training diligently, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Ryuunosuke mumbles. He seems like he’s trying to melt into the wall.

Mikotoba looks at him with disappointment. Kazuma scrambles to change the topic. “H-how long was I out?”

“A very long nap of nineteen hours!” Sholmes exclaims. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up!”

Nineteen hours? Kazuma groans. He’s officially missed work—van Zieks is not going to be happy about this. Not to mention he still hasn’t filed the paperwork after the waiter’s trial. 

He really hopes his coworkers don’t catch wind of the cause of his injury. They would not let him live it down.

Murasame gasps suddenly. “Susato! The time!”

“What?” Susato looks around, then starts, eyes widening. “Oh—my trial!”

Kazuma blinks. Her trial…?

Oh, shit. Her trial! Kazuma had nearly forgotten about that, during yesterday’s whirlwind of events—that must be why she’s dressed like this. What is she still doing here? “W-when is it?”

“In half an hour.” Susato quickly starts packing her things. “I’m sorry, Kazuma-sama, but I must get to the Old Bailey at once.”

Kazuma is touched that she’s stayed here so long despite her urgent matters elsewhere, but— “Oh, no, please don’t worry about me. Go prepare for your trial; I know you’re going to do great. I—” He scowls down at his wound. “I just wish I could watch it.”

“It’s okay,” Susato says, her tone pleasant, but she shoots another death glare at Ryuunosuke. He flinches. “Get some rest.” Then she glances uncertainly at Murasame. “Father, can I—?”

Mikotoba waves a hand. He looks rather amused. “Yes, yes, you may bring Murasame along. I’ll enlist Iris’ help for Kazuma’s care if need be.”

Murasame brightens. “Really?” She exchanges excited glances with Susato. At least some of them are getting lucky, Kazuma thinks wistfully. 

“I’ll hail a carriage for you, my dears!” Sholmes says, and the three of them are off. 

Mikotoba moves as well. “I’ll go fetch Iris from downstairs. She’s been worried about you.” He heads for the doorway, passing by Ryuunosuke and touching his shoulder lightly, a gesture of pity.

Then the door shuts, leaving the two of them alone in the attic. 

Kazuma finally takes a good look at Ryuunosuke. He looks…worse for wear. His hair is even more disheveled than usual. His eyes are frantic and bloodshot, standing out against his paled skin. And he won’t meet Kazuma’s gaze—he keeps his eyes fixed on Karuma, held gingerly in his hands. 

Kazuma clears his throat and searches for the right words to comfort him in this situation.

“Congrats on winning the duel, partner.”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes snap to him, incredulous, and Kazuma instantly knows that was the wrong thing to bring up.

“Excuse me?” he sputters. “I stabbed you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“You were a worthy opponent,” Kazuma says weakly.

Ryuunosuke groans. “Stop it. I’m serious!” He gestures around wildly. “How can you be so okay with this?” 

“Ryuunosuke,” Kazuma sighs. “It’s fine.” Well, not really. Kazuma can acutely feel the ache in his abdomen, steadily getting worse. He puts a hand on his bandages and tries to hide a grimace. “You’re not going to get…arrested, are you?”

“Only if you press charges.” Ryuunosuke winces. “I’m so sorry, Kazuma. I really mean it. I was so careless, and I stabbed you, and—” He drags a hand over his face. “I’m so so sorry. I-it wasn’t on purpose, I swear.” 

“I know,” Kazuma murmurs. He knows Ryuunosuke wouldn’t hurt him intentionally; it’s why he trusts him with his life.

His response doesn’t seem to soothe Ryuunosuke's nerves. He looks at him beseechingly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! In any way possible!”

Kiss me, then, Kazuma almost says. But he’s not so far gone under the anesthesia to lead his confession with that.

He closes his eyes. Fuck. He should’ve never gotten distracted during their duel. But the moment he heard Ryuunosuke’s beautiful laugh, it was over for him. His one-track mind always has tunnel-vision when it comes to Ryuunosuke.

Footsteps. When Kazuma opens his eyes again, Ryuunosuke is at his bedside, holding Karuma out at him hilt first. 

“What are you doing?” Kazuma asks, confused.

“Here.” Ryuunosuke mumbles. He bows his head. “I-I’m giving Karuma back to you.”

“What?” Kazuma blinks. “Ryuunosuke, I already said I want you to hold on to—”

“But I don’t deserve it anymore!” Ryuunosuke blurts out, making him jump. “I hurt you with it—your family’s sword! Your soul! I tried so hard to take care of it but I ended up stabbing you! I’m not meant to have it. I…”

Kazuma feels his heart twist in his chest. Ryuunosuke looks miserable. All because Kazuma couldn’t dodge the simplest strike. Shame floods through him; he scrambles to find the right words to fix the situation. 

“No, Ryuunosuke.” In a burst of courage—or maybe it’s the anesthesia—he reaches forward and puts a hand on top of Ryuunosuke’s. “You were wonderful with Karuma yesterday. It belongs with you.” I belong with you.

Ryuunosuke frowns. “But…”

Kazuma shakes his head. “I don’t need anything from you. Just…” He swallows. “Stay with me.”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen. He glances away, but doesn’t shake Kazuma’s hand off.

“W-why do you want me to keep Karuma so badly?”

So they’re not leaving this topic just yet, huh. Except this time…Kazuma opens his mouth and hesitates. 

He doesn’t want to keep mincing his words. A sudden wave of exhaustion washes over him. He’s tired of elaborate plotting, waiting for the right moment, planning for the right speech. Every time, it hasn’t worked out for him. Clearly he needs a new approach. 

Maybe he should just say it outright at this point. And third time’s the charm, right? Or has it been three already? God, he doesn’t know anymore.

In any case, this has to be it. Kazuma doesn’t think he can keep the words inside any longer. He inhales, and says it as clearly and coherently as he can—he can’t fail this time, surely—

“Because I’m in love with you.” 

Kazuma almost feels a weight lift off his chest as the words leave his lips. He sighs, shoulders sagging. Finally, he’s said the whole thing: no interruptions, no disasters. Just a confession from the heart. He can rest easy now. 

But then he sees Ryuunosuke’s face.

Ryuunosuke has gone pale, like he’s just seen a ghost—so ashen that Kazuma wonders, for a second, if he’s been stabbed again without noticing. He’s frozen completely save for his eyes, a flurry of emotions crossing them too quickly to be deciphered. 

Kazuma’s heart begins to sink. 

“Ryuunosuke…?” he asks tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

His voice seems to snap Ryuunosuke out of it this time. Ryuunosuke jerks his hands out of Kazuma’s grasp like it burns and begins to back away, eyes darting around.

“U-um,” he stutters. “Aha, d-did Professor Mikotoba give you too much anesthesia?”

Kazuma recoils, stunned. “What? I’m not delirious!” The words physically sting. Is that really what he thinks? He tries to lock eyes with Ryuunosuke again, but he won’t even look at him anymore. “I mean it. I love you. I’ve loved you since—”

“IshouldstillcheckwithProfessorMikotobaokaybye!” Ryuunosuke yelps, and bolts out the door.

“Ryuunosuke—!” 

It’s too late. The door slams behind him with a loud thud. Kazuma tries to swing his legs over the side of the bed to follow him, but the throbbing pain incapcitates him almost immediately.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, doubling over. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

The resounding silence is deafening. 

If Kazuma had thought misunderstanding Ryuunosuke’s offer to spar splintered his heart…

Well. Now he knows what it really feels like.

He takes deep breaths, trying to power through the pain, but the confused, shattered, heartbroken panic bubbling in his chest is making it hard to keep steady. 

What was that?

After all this time…all his years of silently loving Ryuunosuke, waiting for the day he could reveal his true feelings and have them reciprocated in turn…this is how it ends?

Was it because of the stabbing? Or was it because of Kazuma? Of course, Kazuma had considered the possibility that Ryuunosuke might not love him back as strongly. He had accepted it as a necessary risk. But still he knew—he thought—that Ryuunosuke would at least appreciate it, after their years of friendship. Of being partners.  

Now all Kazuma can think about is Ryuunosuke’s blanched face, and he doesn’t know anything.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, hoping that somehow Ryuunosuke would magically appear in front of him again. But the attic is just as empty as before.

He slumps, his gaze sliding down. Karuma is on his lap, he realizes. Ryuunosuke must’ve dropped it when he ran.

Kazuma hasn’t touched his katana in a year (and being stabbed by its blade doesn’t count in his book). Slowly, he runs his hands over the hilt, trying to feel comfort from its familiarity. 

It only resonates hollowly in the gaping hole that’s been left inside him.

Finally he picks it up and unsheathes it. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but…the blade is pristine, not a speck of Kazuma’s blood left on the metal. Like their duel never happened.

God, Kazuma wished.

The door swings open again. Kazuma perks up, eyes snapping to the doorway—but it’s just Professor Mikotoba walking in, trailed by Iris. There’s no sign of Ryuunosuke. 

“Kazuma,” Mikotoba chides, gently. “No need to look so disappointed to see us.”

“I—” Kazuma feels his cheeks burn. He looks away. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay, Zumie?” Iris asks. She’s holding a cup of tea in her hands. “I made a special blend for you! It’ll soothe the ache.”

Kazuma takes it from her and tries to smile in gratitude, although he’s sure it looks too hollow. “T-thank you, Iris.” He glances up at them. “Did…did Ryuunosuke talk to you on the way out?”

Mikotoba frowns, shaking his head. “No. He just ran straight out the door. It seemed like he was in a hurry.”

Kazuma thought as much, but still, it stings to hear. He looks down. “Oh.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the two of them exchange glances. Mikotoba pats his shoulder.

“Get some rest, Kazuma,” he says, sympathy clear in his voice. “You need it.”

Kazuma can’t argue with that.

He closes his eyes, taking a shaky sip of Iris’ tea to soothe himself. It’s warm, and sweet, and he wishes it were enough to lift his spirits.

But the look in Ryuunosuke’s eyes before he ran away is ingrained in the back of his eyelids. Kazuma shudders and presses a hand to his chest. The pain is twofold now—his heart hurts far more devastating than his wound. 

Stay with me, he had said. The simplest request.

But Ryuunosuke couldn’t even do that for him. 

It’s been three days. 

It’s been three days, Kazuma hasn’t seen Ryuunosuke even once since his confession, and he’s taking it like a champ.

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato says from the desk. She doesn’t even look up from her notes, but her usually-polite voice is edged with irritation. “Sighing tragically over that print of Naruhodou-san doesn’t do anything except distract me from my studies every minute, you know.”

“Huh?” Kazuma blinks at the photo in his hands. He hadn’t even realized he picked it up again.

It’s a print of Ryuunosuke, presumably in Japan. He’s dressed in a simpler kimono rather than his usual suit and he’s looking down at Karuma with a soft smile on his face. Normally, it would make Kazuma’s heart flutter. Right now, it just serves to make him feel even more depressed. He wonders forlornly if he’ll ever see him smile like that again.

When Susato had brought all her textbooks up to the attic to keep him company during his recovery, the photo had fallen out of one of the pages. She let him have it without questioning why he suddenly looked like he wanted to cry.

Now he wonders if she regrets it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, finally, after realizing that he hadn’t answered her. Then, to distract himself—because his current train of thought isn’t really conducive to his mental health right now—he adds, “You’ve already been studying for the whole day, though. Why not take a break?”

Susato frowns a little. Impressively, her writing doesn’t slow down as she continues responding. 

“That is hypocritical coming from you,” she says, and he winces. She’s always straight to the point. “Besides, I can’t grow complacent just because I achieved my first victory in court.” Even though she’s trying to keep her voice modest, Kazuma can sense the pride in her tone. He smiles. “I need to keep up my studies or I’ll fall behind.”

Kazuma can understand that. Susato is already doing him a massive favor, staying by his bedside rather than finding a more stimulating place to expand her judicial education. He’s grateful for her. 

She goes silent again, staring intently at her notes. Kazuma tries to leave her to it. 

Alone with his thoughts again, his gaze drifts to Karuma, on the nightstand next to the bed. He reaches for it, but even the comforting weight of his prized blade in his hands is now a soured reminder. It should be in Ryuunosuke’s hands right now.

Although Kazuma guesses that it’s some form of poetic justice, that Ryuunosuke had broken his heart and rejected his soul in one fell swoop. 

“You’re doing it again,” Susato says, and Kazuma chokes mid-sigh. She finally pauses her writing and looks at him, lips pursed. “Really, Kazuma-sama, this is unlike you.”

Fair enough, because Kazuma has never been heartbroken before. God, he probably looks pathetic right now. He buries his head in his hands without responding. 

He waits for the telltale scritch scritch of her quill as she returns to writing, leaving him to wallow in peace. Instead, she says, “There’s something you’re not telling me.” A statement, not a question. “And it’s about why Naruhodou-san hasn’t been around in three days.”

Kazuma freezes. Slowly, he looks up again. Susato is staring at him, her gaze unwavering, so intense he suddenly feels like he’s being cross-examined.

“He’s just scared that you’ll throw him again,” he mutters. She looks unconvinced. 

“I know that’s not it. I’ve talked to him already and forgiven him…for now.” There’s still fury in her voice, although it has cooled to a chill. “Besides, I don’t think his fear of me would override his concern about you. You’re his best friend. 

Normally, perhaps it wouldn’t. But this situation is anything but normal now.

“So,” Susato continues, tilting her head. “What exactly is wrong?”

Kazuma suddenly becomes very interested in staring at Karuma’s hilt instead of her.

This past year, and even before then…he hasn't told anyone about his feelings or plans for Ryuunosuke. Van Zieks is his fucking boss. Lestrade and Gorey already make fun of him on a daily basis as it is. Whether Sholmes takes a secret to his grave or immediately shares it with every single person he meets is honestly a coin toss. Iris is, well, eleven, and while she has certainly been the best option out of everyone, he’s a little afraid she’d go overboard with her well-meaning desire to help. 

And then Ryuunosuke ran away. So maybe Kazuma’s silence has been a good thing, because at least now he can take this fruitless wish of his to the grave. 

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato says. Her voice is softer, now, less steeled. “I can see this is eating at you. Please, tell me. I just want you to be okay.”

Kazuma inhales. Her eyes have mellowed from determination to concern. And now that she’s here again with him…that’s another person he could confide in. She’s his sister, after all. Someone he can definitely trust when in need. 

“I…” He takes a second to find the words again. “I’m in love with Ryuunosuke.”

The words still feel monumental as they pass through his lips. He half-fears, irrationally, that somehow they’ll make Susato run away like Ryuunosuke did, but—

She doesn’t even bat an eye. “I know.”

Kazuma feels his heart nearly stop. He stares. “Wait— you do?”

She nods, a little bit of sympathy entering her gaze. “It is rather obvious, Kazuma-sama. I have suspected since Yuumei.”

Well, that makes him want to die a little. Even though Susato has known him longer than most people and can read him fairly well…he wonders if Sholmes and Iris, with their enigmatically genius minds, have deduced this already, too. He hopes not. 

“It’s alright,” Susato says gently. “I won’t tell anyone.” She tilts her head. “But what does this have to do with why…” 

She trails off. She stares at him wordlessly, mouth agape.

Kazuma feels embarrassment flood through him at the intensity of her gaze. He can see the gears turning in her head, connecting the dots. 

He knows the moment it clicks, because she immediately snaps her book shut and rises. 

“That’s it,” she says flatly. “I’m going to kill Naruhodou-san.”

“No, wait!” Kazuma yelps. Once again he curses his inability to move. “Susato, please don’t, it’s fine—”

Susato whips around, eyes smoldering, and he flinches away. “What do you mean, it’s fine? ” she fumes. “First he stabs you, and then he breaks your heart! It’s unforgivable!”

“I-it’s not like that!” Kazuma stammers, even though it kind of is. “After I told him, he just—”

“Ran away?” Susato crosses her arms, scowling. 

He can’t argue with that description of events. He glances at Karuma again. “I just don’t know why…” 

Susato is quiet, for a moment. She closes her eyes and inhales.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Although she doesn’t sound as furious anymore, she still says talk as if she means do ten Susato Takedowns while yelling.

He shakes his head. He can only imagine it going terribly. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

A longer silence. She fiddles with her quill.

“Do you want to talk to him?” she asks, gentle but firm. He freezes. “Once you recover, I mean?”

Kazuma...hasn’t thought about that at all, actually. He’s been too busy moping about never seeing Ryuunosuke again to consider an actual course of action for when he gets out of this bed.

Fuck. Susato’s questions are actually forcing him to think instead of wallow. She’s always been a voice of reason, he supposes. Even when she’s angry herself.

“...I don’t know,” he admits, barely above a whisper. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

His heart seizes in his chest at the thought. To leave such a gaping chasm between them forever…he doesn’t think he could bear it. 

Susato’s brow furrows. “I can’t answer that question, Kazuma-sama. But…” She hesitates. “I think he would give you an explanation for why he ran, if you asked. He could never deny you that.”

No empty condolences or promises—just her matter-of-fact words. For a second, he’s so grateful for her that he can hardly speak.

Because she’s right. Kazuma pushes aside his despair for a moment of clarity. Ryuunosuke is neither irrational nor cruel. He wouldn’t run without a good reason, and even if that reason might be your confession has made things terribly awkward and we shouldn’t be friends anymore, he wouldn’t turn Kazuma away without saying something.

The thought of a confrontation makes him want to die a little right now, but it’s not like he’ll be able to leave this attic to go find Ryuunosuke for a while, anyway. He has time to think it over.

“Thank you, Susato,” he murmurs, finally. She brightens.

“Of course.” She bows, ever so cordial. “I’m glad I could help.” 

Then she sits back down, returning straight to her studies as if she didn’t just subtly but effectively alter his worldview a little.

He smiles faintly to himself. He’s immensely proud of her. No more getting stabbed, he resolves—he simply must see her in action in the Old Bailey next time. 

They fall back to their routine of quiet companionship. Susato doesn’t make any more comments about his sighing. Then Iris comes up to bring him his daily herbal tea, and Mikotoba visits to check up on his wound. 

“It still hasn’t gotten infected, at least,” Mikotoba notes. “But stab wounds aren’t so quick to heal.” He starts wrapping new bandages around his abdomen. “So no arduous activity for at least a few weeks. You should also request additional leave from the Prosecutor’s Office.”

“Don’t worry, Zumie!” Iris says cheerily. “If Barry doesn’t agree, I’ll be sure to give him a stern talking to!”

Kazuma would pay to see that. “When can I leave the flat?” 

“Give it at least a week,” Mikotoba says, and Kazuma groans. “I know it’s hard, Kazuma, but it’ll be harder if you don’t let the wound heal properly.”

Still, another week? Kazuma’s already going a little stir-crazy in here, with too much time to think. He slumps against the pillows with a scowl. 

Fine, then. Another week before he can talk to Ryuunosuke, another week before he can learn the truth…unless Ryuunosuke decides to come visit him again before then. 

Kazuma closes his eyes and hopes, for the first time, that he isn’t the one who makes the first move.

Days fly by and drag on at the same time, as Kazuma stays cooped up in the attic with a mixture of anticipation and dread in his chest. 

It takes a bit before he can actually leave the bed and walk around by himself. It still hurts, but he does his best to power through. 

“Come on, Mr. Asougi!” Sholmes cries, as he unfortunately watches him stumble around without helping. “Those legs of yours haven’t shriveled up that quickly, have they?”

(Kazuma proceeds to heal enough to walk purely out of spite.)

Susato doesn’t stay with him all day anymore, which he understands completely, so he passes his time talking to Iris or polishing Karuma or reading old editions of Randst Magazine. It helps alleviate the boredom at least a little.

But the anxiety isn’t so easy to take care of. Every day, he hopes to see a glimpse of Ryuunosuke walking into the attic, finally ready to face him again, but…

Ryuunosuke never comes.

Kazuma tries to grind his teeth through the sting as if it were just from the antiseptic on his wound. 

It’s nearly two weeks from when he first woke up before Mikotoba finally gives him the OK. He peels off the bandages and for once does not have a look of concern on his face as he examines him.

“It’s closing up nicely,” he says. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Kazuma answers, and it’s the honest truth. It doesn’t ache that much anymore; he can actually walk up and down the stairs now without too much trouble. 

“Good.” Mikotoba pats Kazuma’s shoulder. “Just be sure to keep changing the bandages regularly. And don’t overexert yourself, Kazuma. I mean it.”

“I won’t,” Kazuma promises. Then he immediately asks, “So can I leave now?”

Mikotoba sighs like he expected this. “Not to the Prosecutor’s Office, I hope.”

“No, no. Actually, I…” Kazuma hesitates. Wonders if he should ask Mikotoba or wait until his daughter gets here, but fuck it— he’s been waiting for two weeks. “Where has Ryuunosuke been staying?”

Mikotoba blinks. “He moved into a flat a few streets from the hotel.” He tilts his head. “You want to talk to him, I assume?”

Great, so now Mikotoba has noticed something’s amiss, too. Kazuma just nods, too defeated to explain himself.

Thankfully, Mikotoba doesn’t ask. “I will accompany you there.”

Kazuma flushes. Having Mikotoba witness his pitiful trod to confront Ryuunosuke…he shakes his head. “No need, Professor Mikotoba. I’ll be fine.”

Mikotoba frowns deeply. “As your doctor, I really can’t allow—”

“Please,” Kazuma whispers. His voice cracks pathetically, but at least it gives Mikotoba pause.

He stares at Kazuma for a few more moments. Then he reaches for a piece of paper on the nearby desk, scribbles something down, and hands it to him. 

“Here’s the address,” he says. “I’ll hail a carriage. Walk slowly and do not overexert yourself. Are we clear?”

Kazuma feels like he’s being patronized a little. Maybe he deserves it, though. He stares down at the address. It finally starts to sink in that he’s actually doing this. He’s actually going to see Ryuunosuke again. One way or another, they’re going to lay this issue, and possibly any hopes of Kazuma’s love and happiness along with it, to rest. 

“I understand,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

Mikotoba silently hands him his shirt in response.

Kazuma puts it back on and slides off the bed with much more ease than before. Mikotoba leaves first. Kazuma grabs a coat for the weather, tucking the address into his pocket.

Then his eyes drift to Karuma again.

With only a second’s hesitation, he takes his katana and hangs it from his belt. It was one thing to take it back willing; another if it was shoved back to him without warning. He still means what he said about Karuma belonging with Ryuunosuke. Maybe he could convince him to take it back.

Another weight on top of the monumental confrontation he has awaiting him.  

Kazuma heads downstairs, gripping the railing. Sholmes seems to be out, mercifully; Iris is the only one in the living room. 

“Hi, Zumie!” she greets. “You’re going to see Runo, right?” 

There’s a knowing look in her eyes. He can’t bring himself to feel even more embarrassed by her apparent knowledge of the situation, too. “I am.”

“Oh, then could you do me a favor?” Iris sticks a box of tea leaves into his hands. “Give these to Runo for me, okay? It’s my new special blend! You two could try it out together at his flat!”

“Ah…” Kazuma looks down at it. He doubts there will be the time or atmosphere to drink some warm, relaxing tea, but it’s not like he can say no to her. “I’ll pass it along.”

That makes her light up. “Great! I’ll get the door for you.” She hurries off to the foyer, and he follows.

He puts his shoes on and tries not to let dread get the best of him. He can do this. He has to do this. At this point he can’t leave words unsaid; he values their friendship too much. And if Ryuunosuke really doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore…

Well, at least he could say I tried before drowning in his sorrows. 

“Good luck, Zumie!” Iris says as she holds the door for him. She smiles reassuringly at him. He feels a spark of gratitude; at least this past week, he hasn’t been alone.

He wonders what it’s been like for Ryuunosuke. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and then he’s off.

It is a miserable day outside in the foggy town of London. 

Kazuma wraps the coat tighter around himself as he trudges towards the carriage in front of 221B. The air is cold and damp like it’s about to rain, which doesn’t help the discomfort of his wounds; the bump and jostle of the carriage on the poorly-cobbled streets aren’t pleasant either.

Still, he closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly. This past week, he’s been attempting to rehearse what to say in his head, but…nothing sticks. He can’t remember anything he’s thought up, nor can he concentrate enough to form any coherent sentences. 

He’s never needed a plan more desperately. He’s never been more certain that he won’t be able to come up with one—the words will have to come unscripted from his heart, no matter how broken it feels right now. 

But the last time he winged it, he got stabbed, so…he really hopes it doesn’t go that way this time.

The ride takes twenty minutes and an eternity. Soon enough, Kazuma finds himself staring up at a nondescript brick building. 

Thankfully, he only has to climb one set of stairs. He takes his time, though—he can’t tell if his stomach hurts because of his anxiety or because his wounds are already starting to act up again.

He follows Mikotoba’s instructions and arrives at the last door in the hall. He lifts a trembling hand to the wood, then knocks before he loses the nerve. 

“Coming!”

Ryuunosuke’s voice; Kazuma has the right place. He hasn’t heard him in so long, and suddenly resentment and fear and relief hit him all at once. He can barely keep standing. 

Footsteps. An unlatching lock, and then the door swings open.

“Who—”

Ryuunosuke proceeds to choke on his own words.

Kazuma would’ve, too, if he had been speaking, because his heart is suddenly in his throat. Ryuunosuke is dressed more simply today, almost like the photo Kazuma had been staring at. His deep eyes are as wide as saucers—he stares back at Kazuma like he never expected in a thousand years to see him here.

Kazuma wishes he could’ve had those low expectations too these past two weeks, instead of waiting fruitlessly for Ryuunosuke to come to him first. 

For a long moment, neither of them say anything. Kazuma opens and closes his mouth about ten times, a new way to start the conversation popping into his mind each time. How are you? Do you hate me? Why haven’t you visited? I’m sorry.

The ache in his abdomen is getting worse. He really doesn’t want to collapse in front of Ryuunosuke. He grips the doorframe and, only half-thinking, he blurts out, “Can I sit down?”

Ryuunosuke blinks at him a few more times before his question seems to finally sink in. He takes a sudden step back. Kazuma fears for a second he’s going to close the door on him, but instead he says, “Come in.” 

The flat is small, composed of just one room. It’s incredibly messy, books and clothes strewn over various pieces of furniture. A rickety-looking bed is shoved in one corner; next to it, a table where Ryuunosuke presumably takes his meals, although it’s currently occupied by a large Daruma doll.

The only open place to sit is a stool by the table. Kazuma takes a seat. At least Ryuunosuke won’t be able to kick him out as easily if he’s sitting down.

Ryuunosuke is still looking at him expectantly. He keeps nervously shifting from foot to foot, like he wants to ask Kazuma something, but won’t. Kazuma bites the inside of his cheek; is he really going to have to do everything here?

He clears his throat, holding out Iris’ box of tea leaves. “Iris had me bring you some of her special blend.” 

Ryuunosuke starts. His brow furrows briefly. “O-oh?” He just stands there for a few more moments, like he’s waiting for something else. Then he crosses the room to take the box from him. “Tell her thanks. I’ll brew some now.” 

Kazuma suddenly realizes he’s phrased it as if this were his only reason for coming. But Ryuunosuke is already turning away to prepare the tea kettle. 

“How’s your wound?” Ryuunosuke asks after he’s filled it up, the sound of running water nearly drowning out his words. His voice shakes a little; Kazuma can hear guilt, still raw, underneath.

“It’s fine,” he answers. It’s not your fault, he wants to say again, but the words don’t come up in his throat.

Ryuunosuke nods without looking at him. “T-that’s good.”

This is a poor attempt at small talk for both of them; Kazuma hates it. He slips off his coat—it’s rather stuffy in here—and glances down, reaching for his katana. 

Maybe he can get one thing over and done with, at least.

“Ryuunosuke,” he says, to finally get him to turn away from the kettle and look at him. “I still want you to have Karuma.” 

Ryuunosuke tenses up. “But…”

Kazuma shakes his head; his heart feels like it’s begun shattering in his chest again, but he broaches the subject nonetheless. “I still trust you with my heart and soul. I don’t care if you hate me now because of what I said, but—it was a gift. To you.” He inhales, holding his katana out hilt first. “And I’m not taking it back until it’s my decision to do so.”

Ryuunosuke stares at him. Kazuma can’t decipher the look in his eyes—when did Ryuunosuke become so hard to read? He can feel his heartbeat pounding, and he tries to keep his hand steady, but Karuma is still wobbling in his hands as Ryuunosuke slowly steps forward.

Gingerly, he grabs Karuma by the hilt and slides it out of Kazuma’s grasp. It almost feels like a weight off his shoulders. 

“I don’t hate you.” Ryuunosuke’s voice trembles almost just as shakily. He holds Karuma to his chest. “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Kazuma.” 

Kazuma inhales. Ryuunosuke sounds genuine. Skittish, but genuine, and after two weeks it feels so relieving to hear him say it.

But still…it took two weeks. And Ryuunosuke won’t look him in the eye yet. Clearly, there’s something else going on here. 

“Then I want an explanation, Ryuunosuke,” he says. He winces at the bitterness in his own voice, but he’s been waiting for so long. “Why did you run away from me?”

Ryuunosuke goes rigid. He clutches Karuma tighter, suddenly staring intently at its hilt. “I…”

When it becomes clear he won’t say anything, Kazuma continues. “I meant what I said. I love you.” The words still make him shudder from their weight. “And I get it if you don’t reciprocate, but I want you to tell me instead of—” He gestures around helplessly. “Instead of this silence. It’s unlike you.”

He borrows that line from Susato, and it seems to work; Ryuunosuke flinches, guilt crossing his expression. He puts Karuma down on the table.

“I’m sorry,” he finally mumbles. “I’m really sorry. I just…” He sighs, shoulders sagging. It takes a few more seconds for the rest of his words to come. “When you said it, I wasn’t sure. If it was just an in-the-moment thing, from the adrenaline or anesthesia…” He starts to babble faster, looking more and more anxious. “Like, I just stabbed you! Who would be crazy enough to confess their love after that?”

Kazuma feels as though something’s struck his chest. “You think I’m crazy?”

Ryuunosuke turns red. “No—I mean—!” He sucks in a breath. “It’s just…so much happened. I already wasn’t thinking straight. I assumed you weren’t, either. And then you said that, and I couldn’t—” His voice begins to wobble. “I couldn’t help but think about—”

The tea kettle whistles, making both of them jump. Ryuunosuke immediately hurries over to take care of it. Kazuma watches him, confused. Think about what?  

Ryuunosuke’s hands are shaking as he pours the boiling water into the teapot along with Iris’ leaves. Miraculously, he doesn’t spill anything. Then he sets the kettle back down. He doesn’t move from the counter, though. His shoulders curl. 

“You know,” he says after a moment. His back is still turned to Kazuma. “You told me you loved me before.”

Before? Wait, had Ryuunosuke actually heard all his previous botched attempts? Kazuma recoils, cheeks heating up. “I—”

“Two years ago,” Ryuunosuke adds, and Kazuma’s thoughts screech to a halt.

“What?”

He thinks—hopes?—for a second that Ryuunosuke is joking, but even if he can’t see Ryuunosuke’s face right now, he notices his hand curl tighter around the teapot handle, knuckles turning white.

And Ryuunosuke would never joke about this.  

Two years ago? Where even were they, back then? When—

“Yeah, thought you didn’t remember.” Ryuunosuke laughs. The sound is tinged with sorrow. “On the SS Burya? After you showed me Karuma? You said you loved me and I went to sleep that night thinking we had all the time in the world together and then you fucking died!”

The last word seems to echo between them, even in the heavy silence. Kazuma suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

No matter how hard he racks his brain, he doesn’t remember those words passing through his lips back then. But…

Even after his memories were dredged back up, the journey aboard the SS Burya had always been a little fuzzy, especially the day before he fell. He never thought much of it. Ryuunosuke and Susato had already extensively chronicled that time for him, and whatever else didn’t seem important enough to be remembered, anyway. 

Or so he thought. 

Ryuunosuke finally turns around. Grief ghosts at the edges of his expression.

“You died,” Ryuunosuke whispers. “You died and for a year I thought it was my fault, because the only reason Pavlova pushed you back then was because you were going to get me. So in the attic, when you told me that you—”

He hesitates, looking away. Like he doesn’t want to say the word.

“Loved you,” Kazuma supplies softly, even as his heart shudders in his chest.

“Yeah.” Ryuunosuke swallows. “When you told me that, so soon after you almost died again …I couldn’t handle it. Because this time it would’ve really been my fault, and I thought—I thought surely you didn’t mean it.”

So when Ryuunosuke had gone pale back in the attic…he really had seen a ghost, in a way. Kazuma feels regret wash over him. He bites his lip. “Why didn’t you tell me this happened?”

Ryuunosuke shakes his head, sharp. “When could I have gotten the chance? Last year was a whirlwind after we found out you were still alive. There were so many other things to talk about before I left, and this didn’t seem like something appropriate for our letters. So…” He inhales shakily, lips trembling. He doesn’t continue.

Even now, it’s strange for Kazuma to think about his death. The gravestone carved for him back in Japan, the people he loved who actually mourned him. His chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.” Ryuunosuke drags a hand over his face. “I-it wasn’t your fault. We’ve been over this.”

Only half-true. A few days before Ryuunosuke first left for Japan, in the dimness of van Zieks’ office, they talked about Kazuma’s “death”, to be sure. But that confession? To lose hope so quickly after gaining it? 

Kazuma can’t believe Ryuunosuke’s had that bottled up for two years. His heart twists in his ribcage. “That doesn’t mean you can’t feel upset.”

Ryuunosuke shudders. He presses his palms into his eyes. 

“I was so worried after you passed out from the blood loss,” he mumbles. “I really thought—I thought it would happen again. But for real this time.”

Kazuma thinks about the amount of blood on his uniform and winces. It really had been serious—Mikotoba’s concern wasn’t an exaggeration. He swallows, guilt stretching taut inside him.

“I’m still here,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t leave—” You, he wants to stay, but he opts for: “—this world that easily.” 

“I know.” Even as Ryuunosuke’s voice quivers, he says it like it’s the most certain fact in the world. “I’m sorry for running. For not facing you.”

“No, I…I get it now.” It’s not Ryuunosuke’s fault any more than it's his own. Kazuma glances at the teapot. “The tea is probably ready.”

It’s half a reminder, half a chance for a breath of air, because he—and Ryuunosuke, too, from the looks of it—both need a break from this conversation. After a long moment, Ryuunosuke finally lifts his head, wiping his eyes. “R-right.” 

He turns back to the teapot and pours two cups. He hands one to Kazuma.

They drink quietly, for a few minutes. Ryuunosuke continues leaning against the counter, refusing to sit down. The tea is mild but refreshing—Kazuma hadn’t even realized how sore his throat had gotten from their talking, from the emotionally charged atmosphere. He makes a mental note to thank Iris again later. 

Surprisingly, Ryuunosuke is the one who breaks the silence first.

“Even after everything,” he asks, “do you still…stand by it?”

It takes a second for Kazuma to understand exactly what he’s saying. His breath catches, and he stares into the reflection of his tea, taking a second to find the words. 

“Nothing could change the way I feel, Ryuunosuke.” 

Ryuunosuke blinks. He looks…not disgusted, at least. Mostly uncertain. Kazuma doesn’t know what to make of that. Then Ryuunosuke looks away again. “Back then, when you told me the first time, I…”

He trails off, like he’s unwilling—or unable—to finish. 

Kazuma puts his teacup down and gets to his feet, one hand against the wall to support himself. He needs them to be on equal ground for this. “What did you say?”

Ryuunosuke’s hand curls tighter around his teacup’s handle. He still won’t look at him. 

For a moment, Kazuma thinks Ryuunosuke has shut down again, refusing to answer his question. His heart cracks a little. But then—

“I said…” Ryuunosuke murmurs, finally. “I said I wanted to be with you.” 

Kazuma inhales sharply, traitorous hope rising in his chest for a weightless second. Then he quashes it immediately. He doesn’t want to break his heart again, because the two of them have changed so much since then, and it was for the better, but it wasn’t together. So he needs to be sure. He needs to hear Ryuunosuke say it, one way or another. 

“And what would you say now?” he whispers. 

Ryuunosuke opens his mouth, then closes it. His free hand reaches, almost absently, for Karuma.

“You know I won’t be able to stay too long,” he says instead of answering. “I-if we do try this, I mean. In a few months, I have to go back to Japan.”

It’s not a rejection. Kazuma has to put a hand on his chest to make sure his heart hasn’t leapt out of his chest. “I know. But we’ve survived worse, haven’t we?”

Ryuunosuke starts, for a moment. Then he laughs—still weak, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Yeah. That’s an understatement.”

“And—” Kazuma blurts out. “I-I could always go with you. Back to Tokyo.” 

Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Actually…Kazuma hasn’t really thought about returning home in a while. His whole life, he had his sights set on Britain, the mysterious faraway land where his father’s life was taken. When he arrived, he was too haunted to even consider going back. And then his career as a prosecutor started, keeping him busy here in London.

It’s strange—only after he’s grown comfortable here could he finally consider returning to Japan. Because Kazuma finally knows what path he wants to follow.

“It doesn’t have to just be a few months together,” he says. “It could be the rest of our lives. If you want it to be. So…” He swallows. He can barely hear his own voice over his pounding heart. “Do you…?”

Now even he can’t say those words anymore. 

Slowly, Ryuunosuke sets down his teacup. He begins to walk over. Kazuma feels his entire body seize up. He can barely fucking breathe from the anticipation, frozen completely stiff. 

Ryuunosuke gets closer and closer. His eyes shine, with residual tears or a gleam of hope, he can’t tell. Perhaps both. Kazuma could drown in those eyes forever.

But Ryuunosuke takes away that chance when he cups a hand on his cheek and kisses him.

Kazuma has dreamed of this for years. Of what Ryuunosuke’s lips would feel like, taste like in the moment. Perhaps he thought about it a little too often, but even so, his brain never settled on a satisfactory option that wasn’t too horribly abstract or cheesy, like home or passion. Something cliche that embodied warmth and softness and sweetness all at once. The details changed every time; he convinced himself it was more romantic that way. 

But now he finally has an answer.

Ryuunosuke’s lips are cold and chapped. Despite Iris’ tea, he still mostly tastes like mediocre London street food; it unfortunately might’ve had chicken. His teeth clack a little too harshly against his own. 

(It’s perfect.) 

Kazuma is just beginning to savor it when too soon, much too soon, Ryuunosuke begins to lean away. Only a few centimeters, though—this close, Kazuma can feel his rapid breath ghost against his lips, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks. His thumb strokes the edge of Kazuma’s lip, mind-numbingly soft. 

“Kazuma,” Ryuunosuke murmurs, and fuck, Kazuma feels his knees wobble from how he says his name: reverently, almost desperately.

“Ryuunosuke,” Kazuma gasps. He can’t help it—he slides a hand through Ryuunosuke’s messy hair and drags him in for another kiss. 

Their mouths crash together. Kazuma stumbles back from his own force, nearly falling, but Ryuunosuke slides an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Which is good, because Kazuma is sure he couldn’t possibly stand on his own right now.

Ryuunosuke’s touch is intoxicating. His hands are gentle as they roam, but his mouth is anything but—his teeth tug at Kazuma’s bottom lip, and Kazuma can’t help the small noise that escapes his mouth at how good it feels. The combined pain and pleasure turn every inch of his skin electric; in retaliation, he yanks at Ryuunosuke’s hair, eliciting a small whine from him.

It’s like their courtroom battles. It’s like their duel of steel. It’s all of that simultaneously and more than they could ever be, because they’re as close as their skin could possibly allow. Kazuma pulls Ryuunosuke towards him, and Ryuunosuke keeps him upright, and they stagger back like they’re one connected body, one intertwined soul. Everything in the world finally clicks into place with the way Ryuunosuke’s tongue slots against his.

Kazuma isn’t even aware of how far they’ve moved until the back of his leg suddenly bumps into something at knee height. He stumbles again, trying to regain his balance…but this time gravity actually takes hold.

He can’t untangle his fingers from Ryuunosuke’s hair fast enough.

When he falls, Ryuunosuke comes down with him. Kazuma’s back hits the rough, stiff mattress—

And his abdomen immediately explodes with pain.

He jerks, instinctively biting down. Then he promptly remembers that Ryuunosuke’s tongue is still in his mouth.

“Ow!” they yell simultaneously. Kazuma quickly shoves him away, curling up into a ball as the world tilts on its axis. 

Fuck fuck fuck, it throbs like hell. His vision turns nearly white from the pain, and he gasps in short staccato breaths, trying to push the ache away.

What a way to kill the mood, he thinks dully. 

It takes him a minute, as the ringing in his ears starts to subside, to realize that Ryuunosuke is blabbering something. Kazuma tries to sit up, but another bolt of pain lances through his abdomen. He hisses and settles for just craning his neck to look.

Ryuunosuke is hovering over him, hands wringing anxiously like he wants to touch him again but is too scared to. “Shit, I’m sorry—not again —a-are you okay, Kazuma? Did I hurt you—?”

“Ryuunosuke,” Kazuma says, to shut him up. “Take off my shirt.”

Ryuunosuke freezes, his entire face instantly turning red. “What?”

Kazuma, belatedly, realizes the implication of his words. Heat rushes to his cheeks. “Wait, no, n-not like that!” Fuck, now that mental image is going to be playing in his mind forever. He stares very intently up at the cracks at the ceiling. “I-I need to check if I bled through my bandages.”

“Oh. Oh, r-right.” Ryuunosuke coughs. After a second, Kazuma feels the mattress dip beneath him as he climbs onto the bed. 

Ryuunosuke helps him sit up. Then he begins to unbutton his shirt. His cheeks are still flushed. His hair is a mess from Kazuma’s hands, his lips swollen and glossy from his mouth. Kazuma has to physically clench his fists to stop himself from immediately trying to kiss him again. 

Then Ryuunosuke’s fingers ghost against the bare skin of Kazuma’s stomach as he begins to inspect the bandages, and Kazuma nearly bites his tongue off trying not to go insane. He can’t lose self-control that easily.

“It still looks clean all around,” Ryuunosuke says. He keeps his tone impressively measured despite his tomato-red face. “No blood.”

Kazuma exhales, relieved. Small miracles. Now he can avoid being scolded by Mikotoba and Ryuunosuke can avoid being subject to another Susato Takedown. “That’s good.” 

Ryuunosuke sits back, shoulders hunching. “I’m really sorry. Does it hurt?”

“Only a little.” Kazuma can’t stand seeing that guilt in his eyes anymore. He reaches forward, cupping Ryuunosuke’s cheek. “It’s okay. You can consider this your payback for me not telling you about the assassin exchange. And dying on you. And getting stabbed.”  

Ryuunosuke gapes at him, an expression Kazuma is getting used to by now, before shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Kazuma says, automatically, then freezes, because—well, Ryuunosuke still hasn’t said it yet. 

But now Ryuunosuke looks at him. Really looks at him, his dark eyes paradoxically bright, and begins to smile like they have all the time in the world.

Kazuma can say it for certain now: he could fix the whole damn universe with Ryuunosuke looking at him that way. 

“I love you,” Ryuunosuke whispers back, finally, and it feels like coming home.

Like magnets, they draw back towards each other. Kazuma presses his thumb against Ryuunosuke’s bottom lip and kisses him again. They take it slower, this time. Ryuunosuke is more careful; Kazuma savors his warmth. He traces his fingers across Ryuunosuke’s throat and tries to memorize the shape of him.

He could stay like this forever. His abdomen still throbs in pain. Outside, it begins to pour, rainfall loudly pounding on the window next to them. The lights in Ryuunosuke’s shoddy flat start to flicker, and an uncomfortably cold draft blows in. 

None of this was what Kazuma had dreamed of.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.