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Kazuma spots Ryuunosuke in the courtroom lobby—he’s arrived early, as usual, with Susato by his side. The sight of them steadies some of that roiling anticipation that’s been building all morning. Ryuunosuke has always had that effect on him, it seems. Good, Kazuma thinks. He’ll need Ryuunosuke in top form today, given the rate this trial is going. Kazuma has faith that Ryuunosuke will remain unshakeable—he had taken the news of the assassination plot surprisingly well, after all. Magnificently, even. But Kazuma has never been able to do things by halves, and faith is worth nothing compared to absolute certainty.
“Kazuma-sama?” Susato says, catching sight of him as he approaches. Ryuunosuke turns around, blinking in surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked to see me,” says Kazuma. “We still have a trial to finish, after all.”
Ryuunosuke releases a breath, but eyes him warily. “Right. As if I could forget.”
“Can I speak with you for a moment, Ryuunosuke?” he asks.
Ryuunosuke and Susato trade a glance—her fingers tighten ever so slightly at the hem of her kimono sleeves, and Ryuunosuke draws himself up.
“Anything you can say to me, you can also say in front of Miss Susato.”
And the bailiffs too, it seems. Smiling placidly, he switches to English.
“I was curious,” he begins, changing tack, “as to why you’re still adamant about defending the Reaper, after all that we’ve revealed yesterday.”
“We’ve certainly revealed a lot, haven’t we?” Ryuunosuke says. Kazuma feels Susato’s stare boring into the side of his head. He ignores it valiantly. “But we both know it’s not the full truth. And I’m determined to get to the bottom of it today.”
“I’d expect nothing less of you,” says Kazuma. “But the sooner you can come to terms with the Reaper’s guilt, the better it will be for the both of us.”
Ryuunosuke shakes his head. “Lord Van Zieks isn’t the Reaper, Kazuma.”
“Ha! He would tell you that, wouldn’t he?” Kazuma crosses his arms. “You’ve always been far too trusting, Ryuunosuke.”
“Perhaps,” Ryuunosuke concedes. “Meanwhile you’ve gotten far too intimate with betrayal.”
Kazuma could almost laugh again—Ryuunosuke has turned this entire conversation around, just like he had yesterday. Like he always has, Kazuma realizes, ever since that speech contest, and his own trial in Japan a year ago, and every trial he’s defended since. It was one of the first things he learned about Ryuunosuke after losing his memory, when Van Zieks assigned him to study tactics for defeating this precocious foreign student once and for all.
Too intimate, indeed.
“You’ve changed, Kazuma,” Ryuunosuke continues. It’s just barely accusatory, although the intense stares from both him and Susato relay their true feelings.
“It’s you who’s changed, Ryuunosuke,” Kazuma replies. “This is who I’ve always been.” Take it or leave it.
“I don’t believe it,” Susato murmurs. “I—Excuse me.” She turns her face away, blinking furiously. “I have to… I have to prepare our notes. Mr. Naruhodou?”
“I—Just a moment, Miss Susato.”
She nods and pushes her way through the courtroom doors. It’s odd for her to get so flustered like this. Even odder for the bailiffs to allow her to enter before they’ve given word to do so. Kazuma’s not exactly sure what he said to make her so upset, but those had most definitely been tears in her eyes. He goes back through the entirety of their conversation over the last few minutes, but there’s nothing—
“You broke it,” Ryuunosuke says.
“I—What?” Kazuma is still staring at the doors, in the spot where Susato had been. He’s lost all control over the conversation. This has been a huge mistake.
“Karuma.” Something in Ryuunosuke’s voice makes Kazuma’s shoulders tense. He stays quiet for a long moment, and finally Kazuma dares to glance towards him again. “That's a shame.”
A shame. Kazuma had thought the same just a few days ago, after the rage had drained from his head and he could fully see what he’d done. Ryuunosuke’s disappointment stings harsher than the regret, somehow.
“A Japanese man’s katana is his soul,” Ryuunosuke says, and those familiar words sound so foreign in English, here on British soil. “My best friend told me that once.”
Kazuma huffs a laugh. “Did he, now?”
But Ryuunosuke isn’t smiling; he’s not even looking at Kazuma anymore, instead staring at some spot just over his shoulder. “I thought he’d be more careful with it, if that were the case.”
Ah. The disappointment curdles into something sour in his stomach, and with it comes a rash defensiveness.
“You never could say what you mean, could you?” Kazuma says. “Always beating around the bush.”
“I find it more palatable than lying,” Ryuunosuke replies, and Kazuma lets out a small, amazed laugh.
“See, there it is again, with the roundabout accusations.” The bailiffs aren’t bothering to hide their interest anymore, and are unabashedly eavesdropping on the conversation. Well, let them. “Do you have anything else you’d like to say to me, or are we done here?”
Ryuunosuke’s eyebrows pinch together. His hand twitches at his hip, reaching for something that's no longer there. Karuma is in court custody, after all, and they both have Kazuma to thank for that. “No,” he finally says, and Kazuma feels relieved and disappointed all at once. “Take care, Kazuma.”
Kazuma laughs, again. He can’t help it. He’s missed these idiosyncrasies of Ryuunosuke’s. “We’ll be seeing each other again in just a few minutes. Surely ‘good luck’ would be more appropriate?”
“I said what I mean, Kazuma,” Ryuunosuke says, and gives him one last, long look before following Susato’s lead. “Take care.”
Kazuma was right. Ryuunosuke has changed too much.
He stands across the courtroom—back straight, head high, eyes set intently on Van Zieks as he offers his pathetic testimony—and when Van Zieks claims that there is one other person who could be the true Reaper, Ryuunosuke does not flinch from the truth.
Kazuma is floundering now, because he’s lived his whole life seeking vengeance on Van Zieks, and when that is stripped from him he doesn’t know what’s left. All he knows is that this can’t end here—not when all he’s accomplished is a broken family heirloom in return for a confession that no one will believe.
“Please,” Kazuma begs. “This trial can’t end! Not yet!”
There, Ryuunosuke, he thinks, almost hysterically. This is the culmination of everything he’s worked towards. His entire life’s purpose, consolidated into a single day—into mere hours, or minutes, depending on how much longer this trial lasts. He leans over the bench, not caring how desperate he must look. His skin is buzzing, his mind grasps futilely at facts he had once taken as given, and he can feel himself falling apart. You see me now, don’t you?
"Kazuma…" Ryuunosuke murmurs. He’s always loved the way his given name sounds in Ryuunosuke’s voice. Especially in the courtroom, where the British don’t understand the intimacy of it. Even now, when all that’s there is pity.
“I’m not doing this for you,” Ryuunosuke continues, and somehow, in this moment, he shines brighter than the marble pillars behind him. “I’m doing this for the truth.”
I see, Kazuma thinks, and nearly laughs. Of course. Naruhodou. Kazuma might be destroying himself on the way down, but at least Ryuunosuke is here to witness it.
Ryuunosuke is the light that guides him out of his fog. Kazuma follows him as they scour the depths of the sordid truth, until all that remains in the half-destroyed courtroom is the painful catharsis of clarity. The gallery is in an uproar over treason and bureaucratic reforms and socio-political ramifications, but whatever. That’s their problem. Fuck the British judiciary.
It’s all thanks to Ryuunosuke that Kazuma knows the truth behind his father’s death. The real identity of the Professor, the duel that landed him in prison, the plot to escape that ended in tragedy. At the hands of Jigoku, of all people, who had taken advantage of Kazuma’s desperation. Who knew what the British did to Japanese murderers, repatriation promises be damned.
He’s still viciously angry, when he allows himself to think about it. He’s not sure when the anger and the grief will ever go away. But even through the pain, he’s grateful that Ryuunosuke was there to anchor him. At least now he can soothe that restless part of his soul.
And yet—
I’m not doing this for you. That’s been made abundantly clear. They haven’t spoken since the end of that trial, and Ryuunosuke is leaving back home for Japan.
Karuma has been returned to him, at least. He sets his hand on the hilt, but there’s no comfort he can glean from it—only the dull pressure under his palm. He can’t feel his father’s soul anymore. Perhaps it was in the part that’s broken.
Susato says something to Ryuunosuke and then looks in Kazuma’s direction. Of course she knew he’d be here.
The laughter in Ryuunosuke’s eyes fades as Kazuma faces him. It’s almost enough to give him pause, but their ship will be leaving soon. Kazuma has no time to waste, and he’s confident enough that this will pan out the way he hopes it will, anyhow. He pulls Karuma from his side and holds it out between them.
“I leave this in your care. If you’ll take it.”
Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen, and for one terrifying fraction of a second Kazuma almost thinks he’ll refuse. But Ryuunosuke hasn’t changed that much, thankfully, and he lifts Karuma from Kazuma’s hands. He holds it reverently, the same way he had when he discovered the sword’s secret during the trial, and Kazuma feels a wry twinge of jealousy.
He loves the goddamn sword more than me.
But Karuma holds the soul of the Asougi clan, and by extension Kazuma’s soul. He was far too reckless with it before, and he’ll regret that stain for the rest of his life. Take care, Kazuma. It warms him, all the way from his chest down to the tips of his toes, to know that Ryuunosuke still cares for him. Even if the sword is his proxy.
That's my soul, he thinks again, wonderingly, as Ryuunosuke fastens Karuma at his waist.
And, well. It’s all Ryuunosuke’s, now.
Kazuma glances down at the red hachimaki around Karuma’s hilt. He’d re-tied it there after the trial as somewhat of an olive branch—tangible proof of his promise to measure up to Ryuunosuke. He hopes Ryuunosuke will comment on it. Ryuunosuke doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “I’ll take great care of it.”
Kazuma feels another rush of warmth. “There’s no one else I’d rather have safekeeping it for me.”
“Safekeeping, huh…” Ryuunosuke muses. “We’ll see about that.”
Kazuma laughs. “And what does that mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryuunosuke says. He unsheathes the sword and points it in the direction of Kazuma’s chest, absently inspecting the blade. “It’s just, the last time I entrusted you with Karuma you went off and broke it.”
“So you’re saying you’ll… keep it from me?”
“If I have to.” Ryuunosuke slides Karuma back into the sheath with a satisfying clink.
“But that’s…” The tingling warmth is dissipating now. Kazuma knows the way Ryuunosuke jokes, but the bit has gone on for just a little too long. “It’s my family’s sword, Ryuunosuke.”
“Then you’ll have to prove yourself worthy of it again, won’t you?”
“I—” Kazuma frowns. “Okay.” This will be harder than he expected.
The boat’s horn calls out in the morning air, and it’s time for Ryuunosuke and Susato to leave. They trade goodbyes with the great detective and his daughter—and a perfunctory one for Kazuma—and rejoin Professor Mikotoba to board for the long journey home.
And it’s only because Kazuma has been watching Ryuunosuke, unwaveringly, until he can no longer distinguish his silhouette from the crowd, that he can say, with absolute certainty, that Ryuunosuke doesn’t look back.