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Part 2
The hound sticks around. It appears with van Zieks day after day, trotting along at his side or sitting obediently at his feet. Van Zieks has made it a nest of blankets in the office behind his desk, where it sleeps or waits as he works. He has arranged bowls and saucers under his desk and keeps a decanter of water that it is Kazuma's job to fill each morning. He walks the hound at least twice a day, even though nothing else can pry him away from his work. The dog lacks for nothing.
It follows van Zieks to the office each morning, sleeps at his feet, and follows him home at night. It goes with him to his meetings, to his lunches, and even to the courtroom, where it sits behind the bench, hidden from view. Sometimes van Zieks even drops a hand to rest on its head or scratch behind its ears and then surreptitiously picks off the bristly dark hairs stuck to his gloves. It seems ludicrous that the creature is allowed in the office and courtroom, but the Lord Chief Justice has given his tacit permission as long as it stays under control, and van Zieks does not listen to anyone else's concerns. As usual, he is too fearsome for most people to defy openly.
Kazuma does not warm to the beast. It waggles its tail at him sometimes or watches him with its jaws cracked in a grin. He glares back. It hasn't done anything particularly awful since pouncing on van Zieks, but he doesn't trust it. He doesn't understand why van Zieks tolerates its presence, after how profoundly it had wounded him.
He keeps listening in on the office gossip, looking for clues about who might have masterminded the vicious scheme since the official investigation hasn't turned anything up yet. He doesn't find much. Most everyone seems genuinely horrified by the attack, and there are sincere concerns about how van Zieks has been affected and if there might be further incidents. It is almost universally regarded as an outrage, even by those who have cast doubts on his innocence or skirted around him like he has the plague. Kazuma supposes it's good to know that even if he has regarded most of the judiciary as potentially corrupt or foolish, there are still lines they won't cross and ethics they will uphold.
There are also rumblings that it is little more than what van Zieks deserves, that someone had to call him to account for his brother's crimes and his own involvement, whatever that might be, but they are quiet and discreet. No one whispers them too loudly when public opinion has, for once, swayed in van Zieks's favor, but Kazuma is sure there are also people who share those thoughts but aren't brave enough to speak them aloud.
The hound's continued presence complicates things, though. While there is a general consensus that the original incident was perpetrated by a sick individual, there is also unease regarding van Zieks's behavior in the aftermath. There are whispers that he is cracking under the pressure, that maybe he will go off the deep end like his brother, that he is plotting revenge on whoever is tormenting him. There are also people who seem to understand that he is sending a message, who even respect that he has taken a weapon designed to wound him and turned it to his own use, but Kazuma doesn't think there is anyone who really agrees with this odd tactic. Few dare approach van Zieks now that the hound is his constant companion and guard, and he seems to prefer it that way.
Kazuma hopes that after a few days, the dog will quietly disappear. That is surely enough time for van Zieks to make his point, and then the animal's usefulness will have waned.
But still, the dog stays.
"Haven't you made your point with that yet?" Kazuma asks a few days later, gesturing at the dog.
Van Zieks does not look up from the catalog of evidence he is examining. "Yes, I think so."
Kazuma has bought a paper every morning and read through it thoroughly, looking to see if the story has been leaked after all, even though it would certainly appear in bold headlines on the front page if so. So far, there is nothing. He doesn't know if van Zieks's threat has made the perpetrator think twice about squaring up with him or if there is a short grace period to give him the chance to change his mind and back down. Either that or the culprit has been frightened into inaction by the Lord Chief Justice's threats that anyone caught leaking classified information or participating in incidents of harassment at the office will be swiftly punished and dismissed from their post.
"Why don't you get rid of the dog, then?" Kazuma asks. "I don't see what possible good it's doing besides making people gossip."
"She stays."
Kazuma has had about enough of van Zieks's heavy-handed commands. He's sick of being kept away from secret investigations and pushed around by van Zieks's unilateral decisions and brushed off when he wants explanations. He hates how he is worried, how the tension of waiting to see what comes next is eating away at him, when van Zieks seems perfectly unbothered. It is frustrating, trying to help someone who does not want to be helped.
And he is especially sick of the dog. He is always on edge in the office now, unable to relax even when the animal does nothing of import. When he looks at it, he is assailed by memories of van Zieks crashing to the ground, of the fear that he is about to be ripped to pieces, and of fantasies of another hound's kills…of another van Zieks brother. It's silly to be so bothered by imaginings of what may have happened and what never did, but Klint van Zieks and his hound are the boogeymen of Kazuma's nightmares these days. It makes him think of his father and his messy demise, even if it wasn't at the beast's jaws. He can't help the suspicion that the dog will turn on them one day and attack.
Van Zieks doesn't seem to care about the possibility, but then, he doesn't seem to care about much of anything.
"Too attached to your murderous brother to let it go?" Kazuma sneers, his frustration catching fire. "Now that you don't have his ghost hanging over you as the Reaper, you're going to hold on to his weapon instead?"
He knows immediately that he has gone too far. His anger is still there, but it fizzles out to embers.
Van Zieks's head snaps up, and the fury that flashes across his face is so hot that Kazuma wonders for a moment if he will strike him. Instead, he picks up the autopsy report for their current case and thrusts it at Kazuma.
"Take this to the coroner's office," he says, his voice hard and cold and brittle. "Confirm with Dr. Gorey if there is any possibility that the time of death might have a larger range than indicated here. The defense will question it."
There is nothing wrong with the autopsy report. They have gone over it with a fine-tooth comb and already discussed the findings with Gorey, and the information all seems accurate. There is nothing questionable about the time of death, besides some half-baked theory they think the defense might clutch at.
This is just another way for van Zieks to get rid of Kazuma. And maybe a punishment, sending him to face Gorey alone in that cold autopsy room with her ever-present knives clacking together.
Still, Kazuma accepts the task without protest. He knows when he has pushed van Zieks too far, and his own frustration is still simmering. Maybe they could use a few minutes of space from each other.
He has half a mind to skip the coroner's office altogether and just have an early lunch while he waits for van Zieks to cool off, but he doesn't want his integrity called into question. The encounter with Gorey is just as unpleasant as he anticipates. Van Zieks doesn't seem put off by her eccentric and macabre ways, but then, he is a bit eccentric and macabre himself. Kazuma would just like to get through a meeting without being threatened by knives. She only asks if she can cut him open once today, which he supposes is the best he can hope for.
He takes his time walking back to the office. Gorey had nothing to add to the existing report, as expected, but he knows that wasn't the point of this outing. He drags his feet, debating how he should handle things upon his return. In truth, he has no idea how to smooth over his faux pas. With any luck, van Zieks will resort to his time-honored tradition of ignoring a problem as if it doesn't exist. The temperature at the office might be colder than usual for a while, but maybe that will be all.
Still, he will tread with caution. He hasn't seen van Zieks that angry at him since…forever, really. He pushes the door open slowly, hoping to get a glimpse to gauge his mentor's mood before charging in.
The chair behind the desk is empty. Van Zieks sits on the floor beside it, arms wrapped around the hound, face buried in its neck. It sits patiently and snuffles at his hair with its nose.
Kazuma stands frozen, feeling like he has witnessed something he isn't meant to see. It's a far cry from van Zieks's normal unyielding formality.
He shuffles back and quietly closes the door, turning to lean his back against the wall and close his eyes. He waits out in the hall for a long time, giving his mentor a chance to collect himself before barging back in.
He has to remind himself that although to him Klint is nothing but a murderer who ruined his father, he is still van Zieks's family. He might not be able to understand the lingering attachment, but it has always been clear that van Zieks loved and respected his brother more than anyone else, and that betrayal must have cut him deeply too. To some, Kazuma's father is still a murderer who killed Klint, despite the circumstances. To van Zieks too, probably, although he hasn't spoken a word on the subject since his trial. But Kazuma still loves him and can excuse him that sin because it was as honorable as such a crime can be. He supposes he can't fault van Zieks for guarding his own feelings and memories too.
When Kazuma enters this time, he makes a show of fumbling with the handle to give van Zieks some warning that he is coming. Van Zieks is at his desk again, scribbling away. He does not look up.
Kazuma crosses the room and puts the report back on the desk. "Dr. Gorey had nothing to add. The time of death is substantiated by the state of decomposition."
"Good," van Zieks says flatly, in clear dismissal. "We can work with that."
Kazuma hesitates rather than retreating to his own corner. He takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," he says. "That was an unfair thing to say."
The pen stills in van Zieks's hand, and he stares down blankly at the page. "It doesn't matter. Everyone is thinking much the same thing."
"I still shouldn't have said it."
"No, you should not have, but I know that it looks bad. And you aren't comfortable with the dog."
Up close, Kazuma notices the dark circles ringing van Zieks's eyes and the weary lines carved into his face. His anger has cooled, and now he just looks exhausted.
"I'm always half worried that it might go on the attack," Kazuma admits. "I thought it was going to kill you, that first day."
"Wouldn't that have saved us a good deal of trouble?" van Zieks says dryly, and Kazuma's hands clench into fists. "I understand your discomfort, but… She is just a dog, Mr. Asogi. Not all hounds are monsters just because one is, and I'd argue that not even then. Balmung was just a dog too, before Klint turned him into a weapon, and I would not blame him for my brother's sins. He didn't know any better. It's wise to be wary of dangerous things, but a fear or hatred of an entire species—or race—based on the actions of one individual is, I've been informed, often unjustified. Although I understand that its basis is not always logical or easily overcome."
Kazuma's eyebrows nearly jump up off his forehead. "Are you comparing the Japanese to dogs?"
Van Zieks scowls. "Don't be absurd. I'm sure I already say enough problematic things without you looking to purposely misconstrue my meaning."
Kazuma huffs out a small laugh despite himself. He can't believe van Zieks has as good as admitted that he's wrong about his entrenched racist worldview. He supposes the man has dialed back the problematic comments since his trial, and maybe that means he's working through his own prejudices. The thought is absurdly pleasing.
"Laying aside your unfortunate comparison…" Kazuma shakes his head. "I take your point, but I'm afraid that it still seems dangerous to me."
"That is understandable, and I will endeavor to keep her out of your way as much as possible, however… She will stay, for now." Van Zieks hesitates, his gaze dropping down to the dog at his feet. It looks up at him with its large eyes. "It's not about Klint, not really."
"Then what is it about?" Kazuma asks carefully.
"I don't know, exactly. She stays until I do."
This is not a satisfying answer, if it can even be called that. But at least van Zieks has made an attempt at engaging him in dialogue this time instead of shutting him down immediately and carrying on his way. Whatever is going on with him and that dog, he obviously doesn't want to share it.
Kazuma backs down, for now. No need to rock the boat again so soon.
The next day, he is fiddling with the diorama of the crime scene for their latest case, checking for inconsistencies in the positioning of the killer in relation to the victim, given the pattern of blood spray on the wall, when he notices that the tiny figure of the victim is not the one he had fashioned when making the reproduction. He leans in to look closer, but his heart has already begun to pound. The likeness is strong enough to identify it immediately, despite the small size. If the purple yarn for hair didn't give it away, the crudely carved X between the doll's eyes would. The red paint splashed across its front does not help matters.
He has half a mind to hide the figurine and fashion a replacement before its absence is noticed. On the other hand, maybe van Zieks should know if there is another threat being made. He is still debating with himself when a white-gloved hand reaches down past his shoulder and plucks the doll up.
He starts in surprise, looking up guiltily at van Zieks. The older prosecutor examines the doll in his palm expressionlessly.
"I wonder what they've done with Mr. Smith," he says.
Kazuma thinks he is missing the point. He does not know where the original figurine has gone, and he does not care. He is more concerned that someone has put van Zieks in the victim's place.
"Of all the sick and twisted…"
Van Zieks shrugs, running his thumb down the red blotch splashing the front of the doll. "In all honesty, I don't find it as dramatic as the hound. It is a little anticlimactic."
"It's not that I don't agree, but I do find it rather disturbing that there's a clear message that someone wants you dead."
"Lots of people want me dead," van Zieks says, indifferent. "Here as much as anywhere else, I suppose. Whether they have the nerve to try it or skill to pull it off is another story."
"There's no need to be so cavalier about it." It concerns Kazuma that van Zieks is so unconcerned about such threats.
"Ah, well," van Zieks muses. "Until we find Mr. Smith, I suppose this serves the same purpose."
He reaches down to replace the figure in the diorama, but a brown blur rockets up from the floor and snatches it from his hand. The dog prances about cheerfully, chewing on the doll, while van Zieks makes a startled noise in the back of his throat and grabs for it.
"No!" he says, making an undignified lunge after the beast. "Bailey, no! That's not a toy! Have I not acquired a perfectly good collection of sticks for you? Give that back. Leave it. You are not to tamper with the crime scene. Drop it."
The dog finally spits out the doll and barks sharply, dropping into a crouch with its hindquarters sticking up in the air, tail wagging in excitement. Van Zieks bends over to retrieve the doll, nose wrinkling slightly as he pinches it between his fingers and regards the teeth marks and saliva. The dog barks again, waggling its whole hindquarters playfully. Kazuma has never seen it quite so animated. Or disobedient.
"Oh, alright," van Zieks mutters.
He drops the doll back into the diorama and crosses the room, yanking open a drawer of his desk to retrieve a thick stick. He tosses it at the dog, who yips and chases after it, flopping over to chew on the end.
Van Zieks shakes his head at it, and then he looks up and spots Kazuma watching him in disbelief, mouth hanging open. Amazingly, he begins to color, a flush spreading along his cheekbones, prominent against the pallor of his skin. Although it is far too late to salvage this situation, he crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.
Kazuma can hardly believe it himself. The whole interaction has an edge of hilarity to it, something he would not expect from his straight-laced mentor. He feels as if he has stumbled upon some hidden world, some strange relationship developing between dog and man.
"You keep a collection of sticks in your desk?" he asks, still stunned.
Van Zieks presses his lips together tightly before answering. "Dogs need entertainment. Better she chew on a stick than a piece of evidence."
"I thought it was too well-trained for that."
"Ah… It seems the fatal flaw that makes her unsuitable for work is that she is rather too playful. She's still under control, just…"
Kazuma only shakes his head. "Bailey, is it?"
The color burns high in van Zieks's cheeks, and Kazuma has never seen him look so properly embarrassed before.
"Well, she needs a name," he says defensively. "Animals need names too. It makes it easier to call them."
"You named it after the Old Bailey?"
"I never said I was creative in such matters," van Zieks mutters, glaring at the floor. "Besides, it's a good, strong name that's been around for–"
"I'd think it would be inconvenient to give it a name that everyone will be saying around it constantly. Does it not get distracted by it?"
"…Admittedly, I did not consider that in advance."
Kazuma gapes at him a moment longer and then starts to laugh. "You mustn't tamper with the crime scene!" he repeats through peals of laughter.
There is something disarmingly charming about van Zieks scolding the dog like a misbehaving child, talking to it as if it understands him. The thought that he is storing a collection of sticks and chasing the dog around to pull things out of its mouth strikes Kazuma as ludicrously, incongruously hilarious. Van Zieks has always maintained his decorum and professionalism around the hound too, but now Kazuma wonders what he's been doing behind closed doors.
"I'm glad someone is entertained," van Zieks says stiffly.
Kazuma slowly gets himself back under control, still chortling softly to himself, but then he remembers the doll and glances back at the model of the crime scene. "Well, I don't find that entertaining. Who do you think is behind it?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does. Why don't you have the dog use it to track down the culprit? Surely, it's capable of tracking by scent?"
Van Zieks goes very still. "No."
"Why not? If it's going to stick around, it might as well be useful."
"She is not here in the capacity of a hunting hound."
Kazuma frowns. "I thought that's what it was?"
"No, I will not engage those particular abilities. Not here."
He does not quite understand the line of logic, but van Zieks's expression is grave and the firmness of his tone precludes argument.
Still, Kazuma cannot resist one more comment. "I'm sure Toby could manage it."
"Perhaps, although the scent might be muddied now that it's been chewed on. In any case, it doesn't matter. Leave it alone. We have enough other work to be focusing on."
"Don't you want to know who's threatening you?"
Van Zieks sighs, and he sounds very tired when he says, "In fact, I would almost rather not."
Kazuma blinks at him, taken aback. "But–"
"You may resume your examination of the scene. I trust it is still a faithful reproduction in every other way, but you should review the photos to ensure nothing else has been altered."
Van Zieks sits at his desk, calling the dog to return and chew on its stick in the nest of blankets at his feet, and goes back to whatever reports he had been reviewing before the interruption. Kazuma doesn't think they are about the case at all, but the more troublesome investigations into their colleagues, although he doesn't ask.
Reluctantly, he turns back to his work, eyeing the doll in van Zieks's likeness warily. The incident leaves him unsettled, but there's no use pressing van Zieks on it when he's made his stance clear. Kazuma still thinks it spells trouble.
He resolves to stick closer to his mentor while threats are still incoming and, on a secondary note, is curious about whatever is going on with the dog, so when van Zieks decides to take a mid-morning break to walk the hound the next day, Kazuma volunteers to go with him.
Van Zieks looks at him as if he's lost his mind. "There's really no need."
"I could use some fresh air," Kazuma says blithely. "It's not fair that you get to take all the breaks and leave me working."
Van Zieks sighs through his nose. "Do as you like."
They walk through the streets and linger in the park. The dog paces obediently at van Zieks's side until he releases it to go explore, and then it romps around the grass under his watchful eye. Van Zieks doesn't say much, and Kazuma stays quiet and observes.
When van Zieks calls the dog back, he turns away and starts walking, secure in the confidence that it will follow. And it does. It bounds after him and slows to a sedate stroll by his side, looking up first at him and then at Kazuma. Van Zieks absently pats it on the head. Kazuma does not.
They are nearly back to the office when two men wearing masks and brandishing swords duck out from between the buildings ahead of them and square up. Kazuma draws up short, surprised. Attacks are nothing new or shocking. Van Zieks takes the brunt of them alone and does not even mention most of them, but Kazuma has faced a few at his side. Rarely in broad daylight, though. This seems an uncommonly brazen attack.
The men do not bother to exchange pleasantries. They charge forward without a word, swords drawn. Kazuma whips out his sword as well, and van Zieks has already settled into a defensive position.
The hound explodes in a frenzy of barking and snarling as it lunges forward. The assailants trip to a stop and stumble back as the beast barrels towards them.
"No!" van Zieks cries, and Kazuma is startled to hear genuine fear bleeding into his voice. "Bailey, stop! Down, girl. Stay. Down."
He runs after the animal, sword dangling uselessly as he reaches out his other hand to grab at the dog's collar. In truth, his panicked string of commands is largely unnecessary. The dog stops after the first, even if it growls once more at the would-be attackers as they turn tail and run the way they came. It does not chase after them, even though Kazuma suspects they must look like an enticing target running like that. It sits and looks up at van Zieks, tail swishing back and forth in the dust.
"You can't do that," van Zieks mumbles, hooking one hand in the collar anyway.
"It chased them off quite handily," Kazuma says, strolling after them. "At least it's finally making itself useful."
"No, that was a mistake," van Zieks says. His voice sounds unsteady, and his face is completely white. There is a distinctly fearful light to his eyes that gives Kazuma pause. "I was careless. She usually listens and anticipates commands so well that I sometimes skip over making sure she heels since she does it on her own."
"It was just protecting you, I suppose. Or playing. You did say it was playful."
It's hard to tell. Kazuma has not spent enough time getting to know the dog to tell when it is serious and when it is playing. He doesn't trust it either way, but he does have to admit that if there is one silver lining to taking a hound with them wherever they go, it is having a guard dog to chase off opportunistic attackers.
"It won't happen again," van Zieks says.
"Why not? It might save you the trouble of fending off some attacks, at least."
"No. She is not a guard dog."
"You'd rather it just sit back while you get run through?" Kazuma asks skeptically. "It would still be self-defense."
Van Zieks only shakes his head and looks away, but Kazuma catches a glimpse of his eyes and they are shadowed and haunted. "There are some lines I will not cross, Mr. Asogi."
The reason for his fear finally strikes Kazuma, and he can't believe it didn't occur to him right away. The reason van Zieks doesn't want the dog chasing anyone, even in self-defense, or tracking people down by scent or being used as a hunting hound or guard dog in any way…
He does not want to do anything to bring him any closer to the Professor. To his brother's killings. He has consented to keep the hound with him, for reasons known only to himself, but he does not want it hunting or attacking or chasing. He is afraid of the hound haunting Kazuma's nightmares too…and of the man holding the leash. He might have followed his brother in everything else, but he is afraid of following here, of becoming something too close to the Professor.
Kazuma does not think it has to do with his reputation or the public's perception of him. He thinks it has to do with the way van Zieks feels about himself and his brother.
"I understand," Kazuma says somberly, and for once, he thinks he does. At least a little. "Shall we carry on?"
Van Zieks nods once and releases the dog. "Come. Heel."
He keeps a more wary eye on it now as they hurry through the streets back to the office, but it is on its best behavior again.
"Do you think it was someone from the judiciary?" Kazuma asks as they climb the steps. "Whoever has been sending you threats? It seems coincidental that the doll showed up just yesterday."
"I don't know," van Zieks says, sounding strained. "If it was, I don't expect they would have forgotten about the dog. It could have been anyone."
Kazuma doesn't like it. Van Zieks seems rattled too, or is at least on edge for the rest of the day, but Kazuma doesn't think it's because he's worried about the attack. He is rattled by the dog and the possible pathway it has opened up before him, the one he is too afraid to tread.
Kazuma wonders if perhaps this will be the tipping point that finally convinces van Zieks to get rid of the dog, but it is still there the next day, snoozing under the desk.
If anything, it seems like it's here to stay. Not a couple of days later, Kazuma pauses outside the closed door and presses his ear to the wood when he overhears van Zieks scolding the dog for, of all things, harassing the bats that roost in the darkest corner of the office with the wine casks.
"…have to leave them be," van Zieks is chiding sternly. "They've been here longer than you, you know. You have to respect them. Asogi too. You can't be chewing on his desk, or you'll make him angry. He already doesn't like you. Oh, don't look at me like that. It's nothing personal, not really. Just be gentle and don't bother him, and I'm sure he'll warm up to you eventually. If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't much like me either, but we get on. It's too bad he doesn't want to play with you, but I'm very sure I do enough of that myself, so there's no need to go hassling him for attention. You can't– No, don't look at me like that. I'm not going to give you treats while you're being reprimanded. That will only enforce bad behavior, I'm sure. Sometimes people do not like you, and that is just the way of the world. I do not think you need consolation for– Oh, alright. Come here. If you want pets, you're better off coming to me anyway. Yes, you're a good girl. Well, not too good, mind, but good enough. Just stop chewing on Asogi's things before he starts yelling at me."
Out in the hall, Kazuma presses his hand to his mouth and tries to smother his laughter in his glove, shoulders shaking. The exasperation, the scolding, the fond indulgence… It has him in stitches, listening to van Zieks have a very earnest, one-sided conversation with an animal.
He still does not like the dog, but it finally occurs to him that van Zieks does. It's a shocking revelation, not least of all because he has a difficult time believing that van Zieks likes anything at all. He almost bursts at the seams with the longing to tease his mentor about this uncharacteristic behavior, but he holds himself back and waits out in the hall until he has collected himself.
When he dares to enter, everything appears normal again. Van Zieks sits at his desk, forehead creased in a frown as he sorts through an enormous pile of paperwork that appeared overnight. The dog has settled at his feet again, chewing on some piece of rawhide van Zieks has given it despite his halfhearted resolution not to dole out treats during a scolding. It looks up at Kazuma as he enters, cocking its head and thumping its tail. It yips once, and van Zieks hushes it absently. His gloves bristle with fur.
Kazuma ducks his head and fights back the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He takes a good long look at his desk when he kneels down at it, and sure enough, he spots distinct teeth marks gnawing at one corner. He considers kicking up a fuss, at least for the fun of needling van Zieks about the dog, but he lets it go just this once. It sounds as if the dog has already been scolded, and Kazuma is not looking to pick a fight today. Maybe his eavesdropping has put him in a good mood.
The truth is that Kazuma does not dislike van Zieks as much as he seems to think. Not anymore, anyway. Not always. Van Zieks is difficult to get along with and most always exasperating, but Kazuma likes him just enough not to pick a fight about his ridiculous hound today.
What he does do is pick up an unseemly habit of eavesdropping. He creeps up on their office door when it is closed and listens for a few seconds before going inside to see if van Zieks is conversing with the dog again. He overhears a number of interesting snippets this way.
"How do you think we should convince Asogi that he's focusing on the wrong thing here?" van Zieks muses one morning. Kazuma is fifteen minutes early, but van Zieks has beaten him to the office again. If nothing else, the man doesn't seem to be staying at the office overnight anymore now that he has a dog to care for, but he is still always working long hours. "Mr. Lyle's testimony is misleading and only muddles the matter… How to convince him to look here instead…?" He trails off, considering. The dog barks once. "What, you think we should just tell him? Come now, Miss Bailey. You know better than that. He will only grow defensive and even more insufferable. No, you see, it's more productive if we just nudge him in the right direction. He's a clever man. It will do him more good to figure it out himself, rather than handing him the answers. As long as he doesn't know we're trying to point him there, or he'll dig in his heels out of spite. Maybe if we suggest…"
Kazuma listens in for a few minutes, half out of curiosity about what he has supposedly gotten wrong and half out of amusement that van Zieks is giving the dog a voice in his monologue, as if they are somehow tag-teaming the problem. The only issue is, the more he listens, the more he understands what van Zieks is aiming at and sees how the shift in perspective changes the logic of the case considerably. He is mostly annoyed that his mentor is right, at least this once. He still lets van Zieks give him a few oblique hints later that morning before feigning an epiphany and changing tack.
Another time, he is returning from an errand at the coroner's office and overhears a discussion about Iris.
"She's a brilliant girl," van Zieks is telling the dog. "Sometimes I see… Her mannerisms are all Sholmes, but I see so much of Klint in her, now that I am looking." He falls silent for a moment. "Not the murderous bits, obviously. The good parts. The charisma and kindness and…" He trails off again, voice thick. "You would like her," he says finally. "I'm sure she would be delighted to make your acquaintance as well. She's invited me to tea again. But you see, the problem is that if my name is about to be dragged through the mud again, I should probably not be seen with her."
He is quiet for so long that Kazuma almost relents and announces his presence, but then he adds, "Sometimes I am angry that Sholmes hid her from me. I wonder how it could have been different. I would have loved her, you know. I could have cared for her. I was different then. I could have been a better uncle before… But I guess it doesn't matter. She wouldn't have grown up happy or safe in the Reaper's shadow. She grew up just fine without me, whatever Sholmes's…eccentricities. I suppose there's no use in dwelling on what-ifs, is there?
"All that is to say that I feel quite bad about declining this invitation. I really need to be making up for lost time, but the problem is that I am just very bad at it. She's very nice about it, but I know that I'm always saying or doing the wrong thing, and nothing ever comes out right. Maybe I'll bring you with me next time, and you can distract her so that she doesn't notice. Yes, that's a splendid plan. Who doesn't like dogs? Besides Asogi, of course."
Kazuma waits outside for a long time after that one, feeling vaguely guilty about intruding on his mentor's private thoughts. He has laughed and needled van Zieks about the way he awkwardly dances around Iris, the way he wriggles in discomfort when she shows affection and clumsily tries to make conversation while ill at ease. It is quite entertaining. He never felt bad about it until overhearing how much van Zieks is struggling with it. These admissions are not something van Zieks has ever spoken aloud to anyone except the dog. Kazuma is sure Iris would be most saddened to hear them. They make van Zieks seem painfully human, and more vulnerable than he ever shows. It's disconcerting.
The entire affair puzzles Kazuma from start to finish. As far as he is aware, van Zieks has never had a habit of talking to himself. He has never caught his mentor so much as mumbling to himself before the dog entered the picture. Now van Zieks is having as good as entire conversations with the animal.
Kazuma walks in a few times to catch him tossing balls across the office or tugging on the other end of a stick while the hound growls and pulls on the other. Sometimes, his gloves are discarded on the desk while he pets the dog, and he starts guiltily and pulls them back on when Kazuma enters, surreptitiously picking off any hairs that adhered themselves anyway. A couple of times, Kazuma catches a hint of a smile when he walks in, and once he hears van Zieks laughing inside the office while the dog barks back. Laughing! Kazuma has never heard him laugh before or since.
And he talks. Sometimes Kazuma overhears entire conversations, sometimes only a few words or sentences. Sometimes van Zieks's monologues are exasperated or fond, sometimes it sounds as if he is trying to reason or converse with the dog, sometimes he is clearly working a problem aloud and using the animal as a faux sounding board, sometimes he is merely complaining about whatever—or whoever—has annoyed him the most that day, sometimes he rambles to the hound like a confidante and discloses feelings of a distinctly personal nature.
Kazuma takes great amusement in the silly exchanges and rolls his eyes at complaints about his behavior, but he always feels uncomfortable overhearing the more private admissions. Depending on how guilty he feels, he sometimes creeps away and returns a few minutes later.
But the big question remains: why is van Zieks talking to a dog? It seems so out of character for him. He has always been close-mouthed and private, never showing an interest in confiding anything in anyone.
And then it occurs to Kazuma that perhaps it is only that van Zieks is, after all, lonely. For all he chases people away and puts up walls and hides in self-imposed isolation… Could it be that he does need someone to confide in and converse with, even though he has forgotten how? If so, Kazuma thinks it's a little disheartening that the best he can do is a dog.
Kazuma is returning from lunch one day and pauses outside the door to listen, as is his custom. He hears nothing and is just about to go inside when a door opens farther down the hall. He straightens up quickly, hoping he doesn't look suspicious.
It is not the first time he has nearly been caught with his ear pressed to the door. That would be a disaster. The thought of van Zieks finding out what he's been up to makes him squirm. With any luck, the other prosecutors are too scared of him to approach him with the misconduct even if it's discovered, but Kazuma can't count on that.
He reaches for the knob when someone sniffs loudly behind him.
"Skulking around again, are you?" someone says, and he turns to see a lanky, dark-haired man with a ratlike face ambling down the hall towards him.
"This is my office," Kazuma says, smiling through a grimace. "I'm afraid I'm skulking about it quite often, as I work here."
The man looks unconvinced, stopping a good distance away to eye him with distaste. "I think we've had enough suspicious Easterners intruding in our offices lately, making trouble."
"I'm sure being Japanese has nothing to do with it. I have as much right to be here as you do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do in my office."
"Do you, now? I don't understand why you're still here at all instead of being shipped back to…" He trails off, the blood draining from his face. Kazuma doesn't understand why until he registers a presence behind him and notices that the man is looking at something over his shoulder. "Ah, Lord van Zieks, I–"
"He is still here because I filled out endless paperwork, liaised with foreign diplomats and state officials, and sat through several meetings with the Lord Chief Justice to hammer out the details of his continued apprenticeship," van Zieks says flatly. Kazuma starts and steps to the side, turning to see his mentor looming in the doorway behind him. "He is here to complete his apprenticeship under my supervision, at which time he will return to the Empire of Japan and apply the skills and knowledge he has learned to further the judicial system there. Until that time, he has been released into my care and practices here under my guardianship with the official approval of both our nations. Do you have any other questions?"
Kazuma's rising ire at the other prosecutor's blatant racism fizzles out. He stares at van Zieks, mouth hanging partway open in what he fears is an undignified fashion. For one, he would not have expected van Zieks to rise to his defense so openly, especially on account of someone else's xenophobia, even setting aside his own prejudices to do so.
And also… This is the first time Kazuma has heard anything about how much work went into allowing him to continue his studies here. He had asked van Zieks, rather grudgingly, to continue mentoring him, and van Zieks had given his rather lukewarm acceptance, and after a few days of mandated leave while the judiciary tried to sort itself out, Kazuma had gone back to work as usual. He had wondered vaguely, once or twice, if van Zieks had needed to petition the new Lord Chief Justice for permission, but he hadn't considered what else might have been required to smooth over the assassin exchange debacle. Van Zieks has certainly never mentioned anything of the sort.
It sounds like a lot of effort to put into advocating for someone who had just tried to send him to the gallows.
"Oh, no!" the other prosecutor squeaks. Kazuma still can't remember his name, even though he's seen him around from time to time. "No more questions."
He looks even paler now than when van Zieks had first appeared, and it takes Kazuma a moment to understand why. Van Zieks has just delivered a warning bordering on a threat by emphasizing that Kazuma's status is not some solitary bedraggled foreigner in a strange land, but rather a diplomatic envoy of sorts with the backing of both nations. Kazuma is not sure exactly how true that is, but it does sound imposing. And, more immediately, van Zieks has delivered the message that he has personally advocated for Kazuma and taken him under his protection, and no one wants to attract his attention by bullying someone he has claimed.
Before the other man can beat a hasty retreat, the dog yips loudly and shoves its head out the door around van Zieks's leg. Kazuma hears a dull but rapid series of thumps that sound suspiciously like a tail slapping into a wall. The dog is not watching Kazuma, or even van Zieks, for once. Interesting. It is usually well-behaved and shows little interest in other people when following van Zieks around, other than sometimes watching from afar.
Van Zieks looks down at the dog and then back at the other prosecutor. "Do you like dogs, Mr. Kiligrew?"
Somehow, Kiligrew pales even further, going the sickly shade of curdled milk. He backs up a couple of steps, looking at the dog and laughing nervously.
"No, not really," he says in a strangled voice. "Never had them myself."
Van Zieks stares at him for a long moment and then says, slowly, "I see. I know that you are a daring man. I've been following the Wickersham case with some interest, and I must say that I'm impressed with how boldly and tenaciously you have insisted on presenting such a ludicrous argument that none other would dare put forth. So I trust that if there is a problem, you will be bold enough to bring it to me for discussion rather than hassling my apprentice or leaving messages in my office."
Kazuma is not entirely sure what to make of that—he senses a rather cutting insult veiled only thinly by civility, but he has not been following this particular case himself—but van Zieks's words are heavy with meaning. Kiligrew flinches as if he's been shot.
"No problem," he says quickly. "My apologies for creating a misunderstanding."
"Very good," van Zieks says, eyes glittering coldly. He steps out into the hall to the other side of the doorway. The dog follows at his heels. It is still watching Kiligrew, head cocked, but stays obediently with van Zieks. "Come along, Mr. Asogi. There's work to be done."
He ushers Kazuma back into the office and closes the door behind them, leaving Kiligrew a nervous wreck in the hall.
Kazuma blinks up at him, not sure what to say. "I… Thank you?"
But van Zieks isn't looking at him. He's frowning at the dog.
"Stay away from him," he says. "He's a fool, but a dangerous one."
"Well, I'm hardly planning to make friends."
Kiligrew generally stays out of van Zieks's way, well enough that Kazuma has only glimpsed him on occasion even though their offices are not so far apart. He hopes that means he will continue seeing very little of the man in the future.
The dog circles around van Zieks's legs to look up at Kazuma instead. It gives a low whine and nudges its head against his hand. He jerks away, frowning at the beast. It occasionally tries to entice him to give it attention by wagging its tail or yipping, but it does not usually physically accost him. He doesn't like its sudden boldness.
"Don't mind her," van Zieks says. "She knows you're upset." He snaps his fingers in the dog's direction and turns towards his desk. "Come."
The hound bumps its nose against Kazuma's leg one more time before he can step away and then trots after van Zieks. Kazuma watches it warily. He isn't convinced that it is particularly empathetic. That might just be another humanlike characteristic van Zieks is attributing to it, like his one-sided conversations.
"It acted oddly with Mr. Kiligrew too," he observes.
"Yes," van Zieks says heavily. "I noticed that."
Kazuma puzzles over his sudden mood for a moment before straightening up with a jolt. The dog acted differently with Kiligrew than it did with most people, and they only hadn't noticed because he'd been keeping his distance until now. When van Zieks had asked if he liked dogs, he had immediately denied ever having owned one, although that was not exactly the question. His sudden fear could have stemmed from a half-baked notion that van Zieks might set the hound on him, but maybe it didn't. And why would van Zieks have even asked the question in the first place if he didn't have suspicions? He wasn't one to exchange social niceties.
So the meaning Kazuma had been missing in his words… The messages left in their office recently had been of an unsettlingly threatening nature.
"You think he's the one who put the dog in your office? And the doll?"
Van Zieks shrugs and sits at his desk, shuffling through mounds of papers. "Possibly."
"Finally! I don't know why the official investigations couldn't figure that out, but now we can take this to the Lord Chief Justice and–"
"Because he and his accomplices have been exceedingly careful."
"Accomplices?"
"I very much doubt all the opposition is enacted by one person alone. It won't do any good to flush him out now. I'll keep an eye on him. With any luck, he'll be too nervous to try anything else now and there will be no need to involve the Lord Chief Justice."
Kazuma stares at him, aghast. "Of course we should take this to the authorities! He's threatening you, and who knows what else he might do?"
"Stay out of it," van Zieks says flatly. "I will handle it myself."
"It doesn't sound like you're planning to handle anything at all."
Van Zieks sighs and presses his fingers to his forehead wearily. "If he has accomplices and we call him to account now, they may panic and make a move, while right now they're still paralyzed into inaction. In any case, we should be seeing a round of dismissals and reprimands shortly, and certain members of the judiciary will be facing charges of their own. I'm sure things will get messy enough then without rocking the boat now."
Kazuma considers that, feeling like he is a step behind again. "Your investigations turned up something on him?"
"Yes. It occurred to me that with all of Lord Stronghart's extravagant pet projects, it would have benefited him to have an auxiliary source of funding. I've been given access to his records, and signs of money laundering have turned up in the ledgers. Mr. Kiligrew and a number of others have links to this program. These things will be addressed, I assure you. In the meantime, just stay out of his way and let me know if he approaches you again. The last thing we need is more complications. I trust that you will keep this classified information strictly to yourself and not act on it."
"If you're expecting dismissals and reprimands soon… Do you think that will make it more likely that someone dismissed from their post will leak the Professor findings?"
"Yes." Van Zieks's eyes skim back and forth along the page in his hand, but although he seems more interested in perusing files than continuing the conversation, he deigns to elaborate before Kazuma resorts to demanding more answers. "The Lord Chief Justice intends to offer more lenient sentences to those agreeing to provide statements that can be used against Lord Stronghart at his trial, whilst also impressing that leaking classified information is still a prosecutorial offense. It's unnecessary, since we have everything we need for an indictment already. I expect he is trying to keep me out of the press until after the trial so that public outcry does not interfere with my investigations."
"That's…"
"Unfortunate, yes. I have advised against it."
That isn't actually what Kazuma is thinking. Maybe the enticement of a plea deal or threat of further charges will be enough to deter troublemakers from leaking secrets to the public even once they're booted out of the Prosecutor's Office and no longer have a position to uphold, but maybe not. No one has dared make an overt move besides the twisted threats left for van Zieks to find in his office, but stirring the pot might shake something loose. Kazuma wonders if that is what van Zieks means about things getting messy.
"And will you resign?" he asks.
"Not until I've completed the investigations, seen Lord Stronghart's trial through, and found you a replacement mentor. I said I would press on, and I will, at least until things are sorted out here." The dog gives a low-pitched whine and puts its head on van Zieks's knee. He pats it absently without looking at it, still reading the report in his hand, and murmurs, "No need to fuss, dear. You'll appreciate it when I have more time to entertain you."
He doesn't seem to realize he's lapsed into speaking to it like a person, and Kazuma lets it pass. No point calling attention to something that might well make van Zieks shut down the conversation.
"I don't want a replacement mentor."
"I'm sure you'll find a more amicable partnership a nice change of pace."
"I'm not here to make friends," Kazuma says sharply. The thought of van Zieks pawning him off on some other second-rate prosecutor after all this makes him irrationally angry. "I'm here to learn from the best, and that's you."
Van Zieks finally looks up to regard him, head tilting ever so slightly in a way that reminds Kazuma a little of the dog. He puts down the report and steeples his fingers.
"It might surprise you to know that I have professional acquaintanceships with a number of prosecutors here," he says, choosing his words slowly and with obvious care. "I know I generally speak dismissively of our colleagues, but we have competent prosecutors as well as corrupt fools. I would take care to select the best option for you.
"Regardless, nothing is set in stone yet. It would depend on what form a public outcry takes. If it's manageable enough to ride out, there would be no need to resign, perhaps just step back from public-facing duties for a time. I believe the Lord Chief Justice is trying to delay the news from coming out for as long as possible in the hopes that a backlash won't be as severe if there's been time for people to accept that I was acquitted of the Reaper's crimes. I am not sure that it matters, to be frank. The Reaper complicates things, both because of its parallels to the Professor and because I've already stood assumed of being a serial killer for many years. Revealing another murderer in the family will only cast suspicions on my acquittal. Still, it's possible that I am just being cynical and it will not be as bad as all that. Whatever the case, you can rest assured that the matter of your apprenticeship will be handled with the greatest care."
Kazuma's stomach churns. He doesn't like how much thought van Zieks has already put into this, and hearing about the Reaper and the consequences for its scapegoat always makes him uncomfortable now. It reminds him too much of how he nearly got van Zieks condemned for it.
"You're still a highly respected prosecutor, despite that," he says. "It's not only that people are afraid of you. Surely, that must count for something?"
This is, actually, true. He has never quite understood how it works, but people do seem to genuinely admire van Zieks's brilliant courtroom performances and dedication to pursuing justice, even as they speculate about whether he is a murderer and give him a wide berth.
Van Zieks shrugs, his smile a sharp slash across his face. "Klint was a highly respected prosecutor too, and he was a serial killer. I expect that only makes things worse."
Kazuma opens his mouth, closes it again. Van Zieks does not generally talk about his brother if he can help it, and the bitterness in his voice is enough to make Kazuma wary of treading there. He has the distinct feeling that van Zieks is talking as much about himself as the people of London—he had respected his brother more than anyone, and so his betrayal cut deeper too.
Kazuma doesn't dare address that. "I don't want to be transferred."
Van Zieks sighs. "Why quarrel about something that hasn't even happened? We can discuss the matter further if it becomes necessary later."
Kazuma holds his peace for a few minutes, but he is still unsatisfied with the way the conversation has gone and can't concentrate on his work when he is turning the problem over and over in his head.
"Did you really have to do all that to keep me here?" he asks, eliciting another sigh of exasperation from van Zieks, who has gone back to his work with apparently more success than Kazuma has. "Endless paperwork and meetings and all that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"…Because you asked me to."
Kazuma shakes his head. "Why did you agree to keep me on after I…? After the trial. It seems like a lot of work to do for someone who tried very hard to get you executed."
Van Zieks looks up again, brows drawing together. Kazuma has never acknowledged his role in the Reaper trial since its completion.
"Your performance in that trial was…rocky," van Zieks says carefully. "There were a number of instances of prosecutorial misconduct, you let your emotions trample over evidence, and the matter of this assassination scheme and refusing to recuse yourself given your altercation with Inspector Gregson created a mountain of paperwork and negotiation in themselves. Still… It was a brilliant performance, aside from that. You have a sharp mind and a strong mix of skills from your experience as both a defense attorney and prosecutor. They will serve you well. It would be a shame to lose such a promising lawyer because of a few missteps. I'm sure your backwater Nippon– Japanese judicial system could use that kind of talent. Ours too, it seems."
Kazuma squirms under both the rebuke and the praise. He also notices that this explanation does not address the point about the whole execution thing. Van Zieks has given a careful assessment of Kazuma's strengths and weaknesses without actually addressing his persecution or why he chose to overlook it. He is not lying. Van Zieks does not lie, generally. But it sounds like only half the truth at best.
"Is that all?" Kazuma asks. "I could have just as easily continued my studies with someone else."
"Yes, but you asked me."
Another circular argument. Why had van Zieks agreed when Kazuma asked him?
"Is it because of my father?" Kazuma asks, throwing caution to the wind. "This is your penance?"
Van Zieks looks at him for a very long time, expression unreadable. "Do you really want to talk about your father?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." Kazuma huffs out an exasperated breath. "I just want to know the truth."
He doesn't think van Zieks will indulge him this far, but after a few moments of consideration, the older prosecutor leans back in his chair and regards him with a shuttered expression.
"Then you may consider it a favor to your late father," van Zieks says tonelessly. "He did save my life once. His ending was messier than he deserved, and I played a part in that. Since I seem to have inspired you to a life of seeking revenge and provoked your rampage in the courtroom, I will do my best to guide you back to a more fulfilling path if that's what you ask of me. But I also meant it. You've shown great promise in the courtroom. Your performance reflects on me, and I would not have taken you on if I didn't think you would succeed."
Kazuma isn't sure how he feels about that. He isn't sure he wants to be van Zieks's penance or charity case. But van Zieks seems sincere in his esteem of Kazuma's talents, at least. And the admission that he now believes Kazuma's father wasn't a monster who deserved his fate is something of an unexpected relief.
"So you really don't think he–?"
"Don't misunderstand me," van Zieks says coolly. "I do not believe your father is an innocent. He still killed my brother, and while his vigilante justice may be considered more honorable than the Reaper's work, the underlying principles are much the same, whatever the intentions. I would still have prosecuted him for Klint's murder and fought for a conviction." He pauses and deflates just a little, his shoulders slumping as he adds more quietly, "I would have seen Klint prosecuted too, had he lived, although I couldn't have done it myself.
"I think that they were both honorable, principled men seeking justice, who faltered in the face of the depravity they encountered in the world and let themselves be warped into something else. Whether we can forgive them or not…" He shakes his head, looking suddenly exhausted. "I made my own mistakes, letting my anger and betrayal blind me to asking all of the questions I should have, and you made your mistakes doing much the same, and now all we can do is press on and take care that we too do not become twisted into the very things we fight against, even though the people we once aspired to be are now cautionary tales instead.
"And maybe the real reason I agreed to this is more selfish… Not because of your father or your potential, but because you reminded me a great deal of myself. When everything fell apart, I could have used a guide, but the closest thing I had was Lord Stronghart, and he…"
Van Zieks goes abruptly silent, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his face. The dog makes a quiet whimpering sound and nudges at his knee.
Stronghart, who had made van Zieks feel indebted to him by letting him prosecute his brother's murder and then handed him a corrupt case with false evidence. Who had subsequently framed van Zieks for a series of murders and left him to face the consequences alone. Who had, in the end, masterminded the destruction and torment of van Zieks's brother, along with a good number of his friends and colleagues.
Kazuma stays very still, not daring to say anything even if he knew what.
Van Zieks is quiet for a long time and then takes a deep breath. "I am not your friend or confidante. I am not the most kind or patient mentor. You can sit there and hate me if you want to. But what I can do is protect you from many of the same monsters and corruptions that drowned the rest of us. Not all of them, mind. But if I say to stay away from someone or keep out of the investigations or keep your head in the courtroom, it would serve you well to listen."
Kazuma stares at him mutely. He has never heard van Zieks reveal so much of his own feelings before in all the months they've orbited each other. Not except to the dog, at least.
He wants to be angry that van Zieks still holds his father accountable for murder when it sounds like it had been a consensual duel, but… He also almost understands the point he's making about vigilante justice and how it can be a slippery slope. And everything else has left him so cold that he can't bring himself to pick a fight.
"You may take a break if you wish," van Zieks says finally, when the silence stretches between them too long. He sounds utterly exhausted, face still buried in his hand. "Or take the rest of the day off."
It's not a command this time, not ordering him out of the room to force some space between them. It's only permission for Kazuma to escape.
He rises without a word and crosses the room on unsteady legs, closing the door softly behind him as he goes. In the hall, he presses his back to the wall and slides down to the ground with his knees tucked up against his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and buries his face in his knees.
Everything feels too big inside him. Too strange. He doesn't know how to feel.
There's grief for his father and all that he endured, the way he was so cruelly manipulated, mistreated, and betrayed. That is familiar, but it never hurts less. There's grief for himself—selfish, maybe—for everything he has lost and the things he has almost done and become. And now there is a new, less familiar grief too.
Grief for van Zieks, who had admired or respected a number of people and been consistently betrayed. Who had been manipulated into securing a false conviction and taking on the mantle of the Reaper. Who talked to a dog because he had spent so long in isolation that he no longer knew how to talk to anyone else and couldn't bring himself to trust again. Who was preparing to face another wave of public scorn and give up the work he'd devoted his life to. Who had taken Kazuma under his wing despite their turbulent history, protecting his apprentice the way no one had protected him when he had lost everything.
They are bound to each other and their pasts, and Kazuma fears that it will never really be over. He can't see any easy way out of this mess. He can't make people treat van Zieks as his own person rather than an arm of the Reaper or Professor, and he can't stop Kiligrew or anyone else from leaking the story or control how the public reacts. He can't go back in time and save his father or even make what happened hurt less. And although he always wanted to study here in Britain and then reform Japan's fledgling judicial system, he doesn't know exactly how to go about it when he feels small and lost and alone in a foreign country.
"Yes, you're right," van Zieks murmurs from somewhere inside the office, and Kazuma leans his head back against the wall. "That was inappropriate. I expect it will only worsen relations." A pause, and then, "I think you have ruined me, Miss Bailey. I don't know why you just make me want to talk when I should know better. I've gotten quite carried away. Maybe it will make the transfer easier, at least. You know, he is a great deal like his father, only far less courteous. He'll go far if he can keep his wits and temper about him. I might miss him, a little. Oh, that is maudlin.
"Will you stop that? Yes, yes, I know. I haven't given you enough attention today. Shall we take advantage while he's gone?"
He goes quiet, and Kazuma assumes he is finding a suitable toy or stick to entice the dog with. Just as well, perhaps. Kazuma is too heartsick to really want to eavesdrop anyway. He just doesn't know where else to go.
The door beside him opens, and he starts in surprise and looks up. Van Zieks looks equally startled to see him there, stopping short half inside the doorway. He blinks at Kazuma in consternation, then fishes around in his pocket and bends down to hand him a handkerchief.
Kazuma stares at it blankly and then reaches up to touch his face. Something damp soaks through the fingertips of his glove.
"Oh," he says, and accepts the offering to dab at his face. "Thank you."
Van Zieks glances back at the hound trying to stick its head out the doorway around his leg, as if appealing to it for help. When all it does is wag its tail, he looks back at Kazuma and clears his throat.
"You may compose yourself in the office, if there is not somewhere else you want to go. I am going to walk Bai– the dog, so it will be unoccupied. I…apologize for upsetting you."
Kazuma considers the awkward attempt at making amends and lets out a breath. Things are not all bad. He still has Ryunosuke and Susato waiting for him back in Japan when he returns, and he has been getting to know Sholmes and Iris here. He still has his resolve to become the best lawyer he can and ultimately reform the Japanese judicial system, even if he's doing it as a prosecutor rather than a defense attorney. He is still doing important, fulfilling work. And he has van Zieks looking after him, pointing him in the right direction and sheltering him from what dangers he can. Those are the things he can hold on to.
"No, I was just feeling a little…overwhelmed." He picks himself up off the floor and brushes off his pants. "I'll come with you."
Van Zieks raises his eyebrows and regards him warily, but only nods. "Whatever you'd like."
They walk in silence, a safe distance apart, the hound trotting along between them. It sticks close to van Zieks's side until he releases it to nose around in the park. Kazuma and van Zieks watch it prance around for a few minutes.
Finally, Kazuma says, "I don't hate you."
"Oh," says van Zieks, not looking at him.
They fall silent again for another minute or two.
Kazuma takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Thank you. For giving me an honest answer and agreeing to continue mentoring me and looking out for me."
"…Think nothing of it," van Zieks says awkwardly.
But Kazuma does.