He'd been called many things in his life: eager, enthusiastic, earnest (if a bit insecure). He'd been well-liked by friends and teachers alike, but one thing Ryuunosuke had never been called was elegant.
Susato was elegant.
And Ryuunosuke understood well the benefits—no, the necessity—of elegance. He'd needed it at the speech competition, practiced it before a mirror, learned it the exact expression and tilt of his head to project poise and confidence. He was studious, earnest, undaunted by any amount of hard work or preparation. Paradoxically, that proved his undoing.
This case was nothing like the well-rehearsed appearances of his university days. With surprises around every corner, Ryuunosuke could hardly script his words, and thus he found himself facing his defendant in silence and panic.
"Priscilla Meacham, Communications Officer," she announced crisply, tapping away on her telegraph from within the cell and hardly sparing Ryuunosuke a glance. "No thank you."
"B-but!" Ryuunosuke sputtered, "you'll be convicted!"
"I said no thank you. I transcribed your court appearances, young man. Don't think I've forgotten your tampering in the Milverton case."
His mouth snapped shut, the words I didn't know dying in his mouth. He had found the bloodstains odd, and he'd stupidly presented them anyway. She was right to lose confidence in him. . . .
"Miss Meacham, Mr. Naruhodou took that case scarcely twenty minutes before the trial began," Susato was saying gently. "He believes in every defendant's right to representation, and that is why he put his own career at stake."
"Oh!" Priscilla's said, her mouth round with surprise. "Well, in that case. . . ."
Ryuunosuke held his breath while she mulled it over, making note of her thoughts in a frantic stream of Morse.
"I have no doubt he will become a great lawyer," Susato added firmly.
". . . Alright," Priscilla decided. "I accept."
Outside the prison, Ryuunosuke sighed in relief. "Thank you, Susato-san," he said. "You really are the best judicial assistant ever."
The victim's apartment was tidy and organized, save for the mysterious stain surrounded by a chalk outline. "Blood? No," Ryuunosuke guessed, creeping closer. The stain appeared black, with an iridescent sheen. "Ink? No, machine oil," he realized, catching a whiff of the substance. He looked around the room in confusion: a typical bedroom with a desk and bookshelf. There was nothing mechanical in the room.
"Here," Susato suddenly exclaimed, tracing a hairline crack in the desk with her finger. It was so small it almost vanished into the grain of the wood.
Just under the edge was a tiny chip in the wood, just wide enough for a fingernail to fit. Ryuunosuke gave it a small tug, and a hidden compartment slid open. "How did you know this was here?" he asked in awe.
"Earlier, I noticed the wood was a little sticky here," Susato said with twinkling eyes, touching the corner of the desk. "I clean my own desk of spots every week. If you learned to tidy your desk, you'd notice too, Naruhodou-san."
Ryuunosuke was engrossed in the crumpled receipt he'd rescued from the back of the hidden drawer, the writing water-stained and faded. If he squinted and stared at it, the words seemed to form a column of names and numbers, though whether they recorded debts or ages or addresses, he couldn't tell. He sat outside the victim's apartment, deep in thought, when the paper was snatched from his hand.
He was grabbed from behind before he had time to startle. "Grhghmpph!" he yelled, muffled against the hand over his face covering his mouth and eyes.
"You've seen too much," the attacker cackled. "That information dies with yo-eaargh!"
After the oddest sensation of flying through the air, Ryuunosuke and the attacker landed in a heap, giving him the chance to squirm away. He'd barely opened his eyes and taken in a flash of pink when Susato had grabbed his hand and pulled them down an alley and out of view, emerging on the other side onto a busy street.
"We need to blend in. Calm your breathing!" she instructed him. Neither one relaxed until they were back at 221 Baker St.
Ryuunosuke had many questions, but somehow, the one to come out was "Did you throw us both with a Susato Takedown?"
She looked at him with a pitying expression. "I train my body just as I train my mind. You would be just as strong if you did the same."
Ryuunosuke doubted that, but he had been thrown once today already. "I see," he said, studying his still-tingling hand.
Was his glare colder than usual? Ryuunosuke was well-accustomed to the famous van Zieks glare, but even by his standards he seemed on-edge. The prosecutors bench was covered in glass and dripping with wine by the end of opening arguments, and even Kazuma had warily taken a step to the side.
"As my Nipponese friend would have the court believe," the prosecutor was saying, and Ryuunosuke winced. It wasn't the description itself, which would have been neither praise nor insult in a stranger's mouth. Van Zieks wielded it as a saber: you aren't worth a name.
"Prosecutor," Susato interrupted, her voice calm and serious. "Good morning. I hope you are well today." And though the words were even and polite, van Zieks flinched back as if struck.
"I am. You as well," he replied begrudgingly, as if under a spell.
"Thank you," Susato continued. "I wish you a good trial."
He continued to scowl, but there was no more splashing of wine or shattering of goblets from that point. "Why does he listen to you?" Ryuunosuke asked in a side-whisper.
"I simply remind them how to behave."
It sounded so simple, but Ryuunosuke had the sneaking suspicion that if he'd tried, the next chalice would have been aimed at his head. She truly had a special talent for wrangling unruly characters, he decided.
"You make an interesting case, but I don't see the grounds to change my mind. Guilty," said the last juror.
"That will do," the judge pronounced.
Ryuunosuke sank his head into his hands. The Scales of Justice sat perfectly balanced: three votes for guilt, and three to continue. He was so close, brought back from the unanimous guilty that had sent them to the summation examination, but rather than turning the tides, he had simply evened them.
"According to the powers vested in me by Her Majesty the Queen, I declare no further examination necessary," the judge was saying. Ryuunosuke braced for the verdict.
"Hold it!" A soft, clear voice rang out by his side. Ryuunosuke turned to watch as Susato pulled a familiar book from her sleeve. She flipped quickly through the pages. "According to Juror 6, his decision was based on fingerprints found on the inkwell," she said thoughtfully. "Although the inkwell was spotted at the crime scene, it was not been presented by the prosecution." She closed the book with a snap, her eyes sharp, and Ryuunosuke instantly understood.
He slammed both hands resoundingly on the bench. "The defense has a right to examine any and all evidence!" he shouted. "The trial cannot end until the inkwell is submitted for examination!"
"Just the underhanded tactics I've come to expect from you," van Zieks sneered, but he nonetheless sent a detective to retrieve the inkwell.
Ryuunosuke slumped, sweating furiously and grateful for his unexpected last chance. He took a deep breath, slapped his face with both hands, and prepared to fight.
"I'm quite useless without you, aren't I?" Ryuunosuke sighed in the defendants lobby, shaky with relief from the long trial and close calls.
"Oh dear, you needn't feel that way, Naruhodou-san. You have become quite capable." She was looking at him in that proud way, her eyes luminous and her hand held to her heart, as though despite all his years at Yumei University and all their adventures that followed, he hadn't grown a day. Suddenly, he couldn't bear it.
"Susato-san," he said, wanting more than anything to be bold enough to grab her hand, and settling for fisting it against his chest instead. "When I boarded the ship all those months ago—alright, when I was smuggled onto the ship," he corrected. "I never imagined that I would become a lawyer. It has not been easy, but I haven't regretted a single minute. I will continue to study and grow as a lawyer, and one day, I will be worthy to have you as my assistant."
He was surprised when her fingers touched his, gently lifting it from his chest, her voice steady but her cheeks pink. "It's as I said, Naruhodou-san. You really are the best lawyer in the world."
