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Chapter 1
(In which Kazuma makes a mistake in the form of a grudging ally.)
Kazuma waited outside the Old Bailey, arms crossed over his chest, watching the fog curl across the sky and along the ground as the light waned. The sky was already streaked with twilight when van Zieks stepped out the door. As expected of a man who often found himself attacked in the streets, he noticed Kazuma immediately and stopped short.
"Still lurking around here?" he asked. "I would have thought you might join your companions. I believe they're having a party."
"It seemed poor taste, all things considered. Besides, you aren't there either, and it's your acquittal party."
"I suppose I'm not the celebratory type."
Kazuma glanced up at the silvery crescent of the moon just peeking through the fog, its shape slowly growing sharper as the graying light began turning to black. "You're free to go?"
"As free as I'll ever be, I expect," van Zieks said, a wry twist to his voice.
Kazuma pushed himself away from the wall, shivering against the clammy chill of the night air. "Are you returning to the Prosecutor's Office?"
"You expect me to return to work after hours, when I've just spent days fighting for my life?"
"Yes, actually. That's exactly like you."
One corner of van Zieks's mouth curled upwards almost imperceptibly, the closest he ever came to achieving a smile. It wasn't happy. Sardonic, maybe. Dry.
"Very well," he said. "Although only to check some files. What of it?"
"I'm coming with you."
"Why? Haven't you made yourself at home in my office already? There was no need to wait for my supervision."
"I have something I want to discuss with you."
They regarded each other warily in the dim moonlight. Van Zieks's face was a pale, expressionless mask, ghostly in the silvery fog. But then, Kazuma had never been able to read his face or intentions. Reaper or not, there was something not quite right about him.
Finally, van Zieks turned away. "Come."
He took off down the street at a brisk pace. Kazuma followed a step behind because he knew the man hated it. That was the first lesson van Zieks had imparted when his amnesic apprentice was thrust on him: "Don't walk behind me. For someone used to being followed and attacked from behind, that makes you an enemy."
Well, let him be nervous, on edge. Kazuma was an enemy now, wasn't he?
They moved through the streets in silence, as if by ignoring each other's presence, it might be like the other wasn't there. When a carriage trundled past, van Zieks threw out a businesslike arm to hail it. This might have been in reaction to Kazuma insisting on following in his blind spot, considering that van Zieks had always seemed to enjoy walking the streets and tempting fate more than might be appropriate for someone with so many enemies.
He spoke a few words to the driver and stepped inside. He did not look to see if Kazuma followed. Kazuma did, of course, settling in the seat across from him. The carriage lurched once and began rolling, the only sound the clattering of the wheels on the cobblestones.
Van Zieks stared out the window, either uninterested in what Kazuma had to say or determined not to crack first and initiate the conversation. Kazuma could play this game as well as anyone—he had spent three months in near silence, after all—but van Zieks was as stubborn as they came and plenty accustomed to long silences himself, and he had nothing to gain by engaging unless he had some curiosity to satisfy.
Kazuma was the one who needed something, and that put him at a disadvantage. It only made him hate van Zieks more.
"It sounds as if Ryunosuke is planning to return to Japan," he said. Van Zieks said nothing. In the milky reflection in the glass, his blank expression was unfaltering, showing neither disappointment nor satisfaction. "I will remain in London."
A warning, sharp-edged and pointed.
"I see," van Zieks said tonelessly, without any sign of interest.
"It was my study tour to begin with. Ryunosuke only took my place because I was presumed dead after the incident on the steamship." Kazuma broke off, unsure why he felt the need to justify himself. Van Zieks did not acknowledge the explanation, in any case. "I've decided to continue studying as a prosecutor instead of going back to the defense."
"Well, you're good at it," van Zieks said matter-of-factly. Not praise, just acknowledgement.
It rankled, somehow.
"I'm a good defense attorney too," Kazuma said sharply.
"I don't doubt it."
Kazuma turned that over, searching for something to sink his teeth into, some edge of insult or mockery that he could seize on. Something to give him an excuse to strike back. But there was nothing. It was as bland a statement as there ever was, colored by no emotion whatsoever. In the window, van Zieks's eyes seemed glossy and distant, focused on something else entirely or maybe on nothing at all. Certainly not on Kazuma. That needled too.
Kazuma wanted, more than anything, to jostle a reaction out of him. Look at me, he wanted to say. Can't you face what you've done? You don't get to walk away from this.
"I want you to continue mentoring me," he said abruptly.
Finally, van Zieks stirred. In the glass, his eyes shifted to meet Kazuma's, a tenuous, distorted connection.
"I think that would be unwise."
"I don't care what you think," Kazuma snapped back.
"There are a number of other prosecutors in the capital that you might partner with."
"I don't care. I'm staying with you."
Van Zieks's empty glass eyes regarded Kazuma coolly in the reflection. "Why."
It didn't quite have the sound of a question, despite being one, and his voice lacked inflection.
"It would save the hassle of filling out the transfer paperwork."
"Is that so."
Another not-question. Van Zieks's gaze slid away, as if he was losing interest.
"You're the best there is," Kazuma bit out. This wasn't a compliment either. It was a fact known throughout London, that he could confirm himself after seeing van Zieks at work these past months. "If I'm going to learn from anyone, it might as well be the best."
Van Zieks hummed tonelessly, unmoved. "Perhaps you simply haven't looked hard enough."
"It's you," Kazuma snarled. "You owe me this much."
"I don't owe you anything, Mr. Asogi."
Finally, the bitterness broke through van Zieks's carefully blank façade. His gaze sharpened in the glass, eyes narrowing and corners of his mouth curling into a sneer.
Good, thought Kazuma. Show me your fangs. I know you have them.
There was an edge to the way van Zieks said his name. It sounded strange in his mouth: sharp, bitter, harsh. It could be because he hated Kazuma for mercilessly persecuting him for the Reaper crimes and his father's death. But Kazuma hoped it was because that was the same name van Zieks had called his father. He hoped it was because it hurt, knowing the truth now.
"My father, then," Kazuma said, jabbing back. "Don't you think you owe him something for what you did to him?"
He wanted van Zieks to say no. He wanted van Zieks to snap back that Genshin had still killed Klint, and so he was not sorry at all for what had happened. He was spoiling for a fight.
Their eyes met in the glass, and van Zieks's were no longer empty. There was something there now, something turbulent and wild and unmoored, but Kazuma couldn't read those indiscernible emotions any more than he had been able to read the lack of them. The silence spooled out between them, fraught with tension, threatening to snap.
"Very well," van Zieks said finally. The words were clipped at the edges, hard and brittle. "I still believe it unwise, but I have no meaningful objection."
Kazuma blinked at him, taken aback. He hadn't expected such an easy capitulation. He'd expected van Zieks to put up more of a fight from the start. He wouldn't be foolish enough to continue helping someone who had just tried very hard to have him falsely convicted and executed.
"You are a fool," he marveled.
He wished he could snatch the words back out of the air the second they left his mouth, afraid he was going to lose this opportunity right when he'd finally won it.
"So I've been told," van Zieks said tonelessly. "We start again tomorrow."
He stared out the window, eyes glassy and far away, and silence descended once more, smothering and heavy like fog, until Kazuma found it hard to breathe.
When Kazuma walked into the office the next morning, he knew immediately that this had been a mistake. Van Zieks stood by the window behind his desk, holding a handful of pages up to the light. He might have been reading them, except that his gaze seemed to slide off to the side, looking out the glass at something no one else could see.
Bitterness wrapped around Kazuma's chest like thorns at the very sight of him. There had been a time when that wasn't the case. He had never liked van Zieks much, but their partnership had lacked this particular tension during the months they had worked obliviously side by side, unaware of the chains binding them together and slowly tightening like a noose around their necks. Van Zieks had always been cold and curt and unfriendly, but he had provided meticulous guidance and kept an eye on Kazuma to rescue him from the awkward situations Stronghart's melodramatic orders inevitably put him into.
And Kazuma had respected him. The cases against Asman and Harebrayne had been impressive enough, even if they had ended in losses, but van Zieks won cases too, and he shone blinding and brilliant when he was right. Few defense attorneys had quite the same ability to stand against him that Ryunosuke did, and van Zieks mercilessly tore their arguments to shreds. Without some unbelievably improbable twist to turn the case around or unscrupulous men passing bribes to the jury under the table, there was really nothing to stop him. It was probably for the best that Ryunosuke had never thought to sit in the public gallery while he was banned from practicing, or his apprehension would have been doubled the next time he faced van Zieks across the courtroom.
So Kazuma and van Zieks had never been friends, but they had learned to work together and come to unspoken agreements of their own. Van Zieks had been strict and cold, but fair and supportive. Kazuma had been largely quiet and withdrawn, but obedient and quick to follow direction. They had measured each other up, acknowledged the other's skill and talent, and developed some unspoken level of mutual respect that allowed them to work efficiently together despite their differences.
But things were different now. Kazuma had often grown frustrated or annoyed, but he had never hated van Zieks before. Now he could feel something ugly and painful welling up inside him just looking at the man. He couldn't tell how much of it was that he still resented van Zieks for the role, however unwitting, he had played in his father's demise, and how much of it was born of his own guilt and shame at having nearly done the exact same thing.
He had discovered a monster inside himself that he had nearly lost control of. He had agreed to the assassin exchange, even if he hadn't actually intended to go through with it. He had very badly wanted to kill Gregson when the inspector spoke, without remorse, about framing his father for the Professor killings, and he'd damaged Karuma because of it. And he had come very close to securing a false conviction against van Zieks, deliberately withholding his own involvement in events and willfully ignoring any evidence or common sense that pointed to the man's innocence.
These were not things Kazuma was proud of, and van Zieks was a living reminder of all these missteps. The thought of working with him day in and day out, being faced with those reminders every second, seemed suddenly suffocating.
Van Zieks's gaze flicked up. "You came after all."
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"I thought you might have grown a brain overnight, or at least recovered some modicum of sense."
Kazuma scowled and bit down on the inside of his cheek. Hard.
Part of him agreed, despite the harsh wording. He wished he had taken time to think through his options first, or at least waited until he'd had time to process everything uncovered during the trial. But then, even if this was a mistake, he thought he'd follow through anyway.
He couldn't say for sure why he felt so strongly about taking this path. Maybe it was because he'd fought off his own inner demons and now felt called to bring to account those people who had lost their own fights, and van Zieks was the best prosecutor to learn from. Maybe it was that he was still motivated to learn everything he could here before returning to fight for reforms in Japan, even if the trajectory of that path had changed. Maybe it was that he felt ashamed of his behavior and the way he'd nearly lost himself, and he needed to prove himself again before returning home with his friends.
Or it could be that he wanted to stay here and hurt van Zieks with a thousand little cuts every day, some small, petty revenge for the man's role in his father's death. Or maybe it was that he hated that niggling sense of guilt and wanted to stay until he could find a way to soothe it. To set things right.
He didn't know. Maybe it was all of those things or none of them. Maybe it didn't matter, because even if it was a mistake, he was already here and committed to this path.
"I suppose that makes us both fools, then, My Lord," he said tightly.
Van Zieks glanced back at the papers in his hand, and this time his eyes did flick back and forth across the page as he skimmed over it. "Have you finished the paperwork yet?"
"Paperwork?"
"From the trial."
"Oh. Not yet. I still need to write up and submit the final case report."
"That takes precedence, obviously." Van Zieks flicked his free hand towards Kazuma's low desk on the other side of the room, eyes never leaving the page. "When you are finished, I have taken the liberty of earmarking useful precedent cases in some volumes of law that you may peruse. I also pulled case files from two of my past cases and left the evidence catalogs, witness statements, and investigation results on your desk. Go through them and write up a report for how you would construct your arguments for each case. Have them to me by the end of the week, and we will go over your work."
"Lots of self-study now, is it?"
Van Zieks sighed. He still wasn't looking at Kazuma. He'd barely looked at him last night either, and then almost exclusively through the distorted reflection in the glass. Maybe he found it hard to look at his apprentice now. Maybe Kazuma was a reminder for him too, and looking at him brought to mind uncomfortable thoughts and feelings. Maybe it hurt. Kazuma hoped so.
"We have no current cases, so this is interim work," van Zieks said. "The judiciary is in shambles, I expect. We need to determine where we stand now, which will depend on who is appointed the next Lord Chief Justice. I expect that decision will be pushed through quickly.
"Lord Stronghart is no longer in a position to have you officially remanded, but there may be calls to send you back to Japan, given all the recent fuss with foreign exchange students and the false pretenses on which you came here. As for me… There may be backlash for Klint's crimes, but until such time as those are made public, I suspect I may be given…allowances. Given my…ill-treatment at Lord Stronghart's hands on the matter of the Reaper, I think the judiciary and incoming Lord Chief Justice will tread carefully in the hopes that I don't cause a very public and embarrassing scene. Or out of a misguided sense of pity. It doesn't matter.
"I will take advantage of this magnanimous goodwill as leverage to improve your position and keep you from being expelled from the country. Still, I think it likely that you will be subjected to some kind of probationary practice. I expect I will be busy meeting with every diplomat, state official, and judicial administrator in the capital until the terms of your probation are hammered out, and so—self-study."
Kazuma stared at him, taken aback. He had…not considered any of those things, really. His world, over the past few days, had narrowed to tunnel vision: him versus van Zieks in the courtroom, with Ryunosuke playing referee. He hadn't yet taken the time to think about what the aftermath might look like, past the immediate question of what he intended to do with himself. It seemed that van Zieks had already put a great deal more thought into it, and he obviously had a much greater grasp of the political climate. These were the kinds of things that made him so good at what he did. They were the kinds of things Kazuma still wanted to learn from him despite all the hard feelings hanging between them.
"Oh," he said, trying to sift through everything van Zieks had—and hadn't—said.
"Actions have consequences," van Zieks said, turning away from the window to tap the sheaf of pages on the desk brusquely, straightening the edges. "Yours will too. This is an important lesson."
"You're one to talk," Kazuma shot back, stung.
"Mr. Asogi," van Zieks said tiredly, "I have done nothing but suffer the consequences of actions, both my own and others'. I have learned, over the years, how to accept them with as much grace as possible and move on. You must consider the consequences before taking action, and if it is necessary, you do it anyway and take responsibility for the outcome. But it is foolish to go running headlong into trouble without at least considering what will come of it first."
Kazuma wondered which consequences van Zieks regretted the most. Which ghosts haunted him the most, hurt him the most? Stronghart and the Reaper? Klint and the Professor? Genshin and Kazuma? Himself and every last miserable choice he'd made over the years to turn himself into the bitter, unhappy man he was today?
That seemed too cruel even for Kazuma to ask.
"Don't patronize me," he said instead. "I don't need to be lectured over something so obvious."
"Very well." Van Zieks left the papers on his desk and started for the door, gaze skimming past Kazuma without pause. "I am off to do some reconnaissance."
"Reconnaissance?"
"Listen in on the rumors going around the office, see who is being considered for the post of Lord Chief Justice, call in favors, throw my weight around, arrange appointments with superiors to discuss your future… Distasteful as these may be, they are important skills to have—a way to navigate the judicial system at large outside of the courtroom. You will need to learn them eventually, but not now. Your position is still precarious, and you would do well to keep your head down and mouth shut until things blow over. Stay here and do your work. I will be back later."
Kazuma's focus had always been on investigations and the courtroom. He hadn't put as much thought into the social aspects and bureaucracy, although he had no doubt that he would need those skills if he wanted to one day reform the Japanese legal system. It sounded dreadful, though, and somehow he hadn't considered that van Zieks might be adept at such things. It seemed beneath the man to bother with. Not the kind of thing van Zieks would have the patience for.
"Good luck, I guess," Kazuma said, before thinking that sounded too informal, too familiar. Too much like an olive branch.
Van Zieks did not acknowledge the awkward sentiment, but of course he had to have the last word. He paused in the doorway for a brief moment, never looking back.
"Choosing to remain in my care will have its own consequences. I hope you have considered them."
And then he was gone, leaving Kazuma feeling again that perhaps he had made a massive mistake.
Susato came to the office late, with darkness already starting to fall. Perhaps she just wanted to get Kazuma alone, or perhaps it was the only place she knew she could find him when he had been doing his best to avoid being caught in a position to have a serious conversation with her and Ryunosuke. He was not, however, alone.
Susato paused uncertainly in the doorway. "Good evening, Lord van Zieks. Kazuma-sama."
"Good evening, Miss Mikotoba." These were the first words van Zieks had spoken in hours. He and Kazuma had been more or less ignoring each other ever since he had returned from yet another round of bureaucratic errands and diplomatic meetings late in the afternoon. "What brings you to our office? Looking for Mr. Asogi?"
"Oh…" She shifted awkwardly, cutting a look in Kazuma's direction. "Yes, I was hoping to catch him before he left for the night."
Van Zieks looked down at the letter on his desk, then sighed and passed a hand over his face. He capped his inkwell and stood, retrieving his cloak from the coat rack and swinging it around his shoulders.
"Very well," he said. "I am leaving anyway. You may hold your discussion here if you wish. Mr. Asogi, lock up when you are finished. Goodnight."
Susato stepped aside as he brushed past her and out the door before anyone had the chance to say anything.
"Oh." She watched him go with a faint frown. "I didn't mean to evict him from his own office."
Kazuma snorted. "Don't worry about it. He's not so accommodating as to leave against his will. I expect he's fed up with whatever project he's working on. Otherwise, he would have dismissed me to find another place to speak with you."
He rose to his feet and crossed the room, shamelessly glancing over the pages on van Zieks's desk.
While I understand your concerns, he is still officially my apprentice and has not been removed from my care as yet. I wish to retain his services in a probationary capacity at this time. As his mentor, I assume responsibility for his lack of judgment and misconduct, and I will, of course, vouch for his continued good behavior and take responsibility for any further lapses. I have worked with him already for months, and I believe his skill and diligence will be enough to–
Van Zieks truly must have been growing frustrated to leave mid-sentence. He had not seen fit to share with Kazuma the steps he was taking to advocate for his continued apprenticeship or provide updates on how the process was going, and Kazuma had been too proud to ask. But it did seem like he was doing something, at least.
"I suppose," Susato said, drifting towards Kazuma. "I do feel badly for him, but I must admit that I still find him intimidating. What's that? Should you be reading his correspondence?"
Kazuma waved off her concern. "Apparently, there are people who would rather see me packed back off to Japan after the whole Reaper debacle. Lord van Zieks has magnanimously agreed to continue my apprenticeship, and he's advocating for me to be allowed to stay and continue working. Or that's what he says he's doing, but it does look like he's at least making an attempt. Probably grew frustrated trying to come up with enough nice things to say. It doesn't suit him."
Susato looked taken aback. "He's trying to keep you as his apprentice?"
"For now. At least it keeps him out of the office more, with all his meetings and such. Anyway… What did you want to talk about?"
Her brow creased in a frown as she considered his words. "Oh, just… As you know, my father asked Naruhodo-san to accompany him back to Japan. They will be leaving in a few days."
"You want to return with them."
"I… Yes, I do. If Naruhodo-san would have me. I don't want to be a burden on him. But… I wanted to speak with you first. I was supposed to be your judicial assistant, after all."
"And I was supposed to be a defense attorney, but here we are. Sometimes our paths do not take us where we intend to go. You don't need my permission. You and Ryunosuke make a good team. I know he'll be glad to have you at his side."
"Yes, I suppose. It's only…" Susato sighed. She sounded very unsure, very lost. Very torn. "I hate to leave just as soon as we've found you again. Are you sure that you want to stay here by yourself? Perhaps we could all–"
"No," Kazuma said gently. "This was always my dream, and you know it. I've achieved the first of my goals, more or less, but I meant it when I said that I wanted to learn what I could here in order to change the legal system back home. I still intend to do that, and you and Ryunosuke can begin paving the way until I'm ready to join you."
Susato sighed again, dropping her gaze to the ground. "I know. You were always very determined. I knew you'd say that, but I had to try." She looked up at him, her eyes large and round and shimmering with moisture. "Will you be alright here on your own? And are you sure you want to stay with Lord van Zieks, given your…history?"
"I'll be fine. Remember, I spent a year on my own, figuring out my own way here, and I've already worked under Lord van Zieks for months. I don't expect it will be easy, but… You'll have to trust me to handle myself."
"I do trust you. I only worry." She hesitated, twisting her hands together. "Well, I don't expect I could persuade you from whatever path you've chosen. But… You will come say goodbye, won't you? Before we leave?"
"Of course I will. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Kazuma stood there in the dim lamplight long after Susato had left, looking out the window at the night.
It would have been selfish to ask her to stay. Even more selfish to ask Ryunosuke to. And yet, he wished they would. He wished he wouldn't be left here alone in this foreign city, his only grudging ally a man who hated him. But he had survived this past year without them, even if he hadn't known what he was missing, and he still found it hard to face them after they'd seen his inner beast on display, that darker, secret side of himself that he kept locked away. He was not, perhaps, the noble and morally upstanding paragon Ryunosuke had admired. Not entirely.
He was traveling a different path now, and he wouldn't return home and face his friends again until he'd found his footing and was secure in his purpose. Ryunosuke could go ahead and start on the work Kazuma had once envisioned himself doing. After all, hadn't Ryunosuke taken over Kazuma's dream, stepped out of his shadow to fill the role Kazuma had intended to fill, become exactly the kind of attorney Kazuma had wanted to be? Kazuma was proud of him, really.
But perhaps that was the real reason he intended to become a prosecutor instead. Ryunosuke had already walked these steps and made Kazuma's dream his own. Maybe it was time for Kazuma to find a new dream, something that would be only his. If that meant staying here alone in this dreary city with van Zieks until he felt equal to his partner again, then so be it.
He could not avoid the problem forever, though, no matter how uncomfortable it might be or how unsettled his emotions still were. On the day the ship was leaving, he went down to the docks to say goodbye. He said goodbye to Mikotoba, who had been a surrogate father to him when his own father was gone. To Susato, who had been his sister. To Ryunosuke, who had been his best friend. He entrusted Karuma to Ryunosuke for safekeeping, informed everyone of his plans, and stayed upbeat enough to reassure them that he would be just fine. It was hard, though, pretending to be the person they'd always thought he was so that they didn't realize how difficult it was for him to look them in the eye. It still felt as if he had disappointed them somehow, and if they were not ashamed of him, then perhaps he was ashamed on their behalf.
And then they were gone, just like that, leaning over the rails and waving goodbye as the ship pulled away from the dock. Somehow, Kazuma had managed to avoid having the genuine, serious talk with them that he'd needed to have, and now it was too late even if he changed his mind. It felt very final, watching them go.
He gazed after the ship until it had become a dot on the horizon, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"I'll miss them," Iris sighed. She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes. "I wish they could have stayed longer."
"No need to fret, my dear!" Sholmes said. "Miss Mikotoba is too responsible not to write, and Mr. Naruhodo is so chatty that we'll be lucky to ever have a day without a letter! I'm sure they'll stay in touch."
Iris smiled a little despite herself. "You're probably right. We should write a letter now and send it ahead so that it's waiting for them when they get home, don't you think?"
"A marvelous idea! I need to ask Mr. Naruhodo if he packed my violin with his things. I couldn't find it this morning, and it slipped my mind to ask."
"Didn't you pawn it again last week?"
"Surely not! I swore I would never be parted from it again after that dreadful mix-up at Windibank's."
Iris shook her head in fond exasperation and looked at Kazuma. "Would you like to come over for tea, Kazu? You didn't make it to the party, and I'd like to get to know you. Susie and Runo always spoke very highly of you!"
Kazuma wanted to say no. He did not know Iris very well, and he couldn't quite bring himself to trust Sholmes after the fiasco on the SS Burya. He was wary of the eccentric detective, and perhaps harboring some bitterness about having been falsely declared dead, thus precipitating the year of amnesic wandering that led him here.
But Ryunosuke and Susato had made him promise that he would at least try getting to know Iris and Sholmes, some reassurance that he would have allies in London when they were gone, and it wasn't as if Kazuma had anything better to do. His heart was too heavy to consider returning to the fraught silence of the Prosecutor's Office, rubbing shoulders with van Zieks and worrying about his future. Surely, tea had to be better than that.
"Thank you," he said. "I would be pleased to join you."
Iris squealed in delight and started back down the dock. "Wonderful! I'm sure we'll be great friends. Now I just need to figure out how to convince Mr. Reaper to join us next time."
Kazuma pulled a face as he followed after her. "Why? He's not very nice, honestly. I'm sure it would be dreadfully awkward."
Sholmes cleared his throat loudly to catch Kazuma's attention and gave him a warning look. Kazuma raised his eyebrows back.
He guessed that perhaps Sholmes considered it bad taste to badmouth van Zieks to his niece before they'd had the chance to get to know each other. He didn't think Sholmes had told Iris about the familial connection yet and wasn't sure if he ever intended to, but he supposed it was possible she might discover it herself one day if she was as bright as everyone said. And if van Zieks did decide to make his awkward overtures and acquaint himself with his niece, he certainly wouldn't thank Kazuma for filling her head with unflattering things about him.
But that really didn't seem like Kazuma's problem. Sholmes was the one who had created the situation with his secrets, and van Zieks truly wasn't very nice. Kazuma wasn't going to apologize for telling the truth just because Sholmes had put himself in an awkward position.
"Oh, yes, he was quite mean during Ginny's trial," Iris said cheerfully. "But I think he can be nice, if he wants to be. I brought him tea before his trial, and he was very polite. Anyway, he must be lonely, don't you think? I mean, being blamed for the Reaper made a lot of people scared of him. Probably mean to him too. And he seemed quite upset with everything that came out during his trial. It's really too bad he missed his own party… He said he'd come by for tea sometime later, though, so we'll see how that goes. It's only that he seems very busy, so I don't know when that will be."
Kazuma wasn't sure why she seemed to have decided to make civilizing van Zieks her pet project, whether she knew more than she let on or pitied him or was really just that put out that he hadn't come to her party, but she was bound to realize sooner or later that it was a mistake. Maybe van Zieks really would be nice to her now that he knew the truth, if he was even capable of such a thing, but it seemed unlikely that he would make a good friend to a child even if he tried.
"If you say so," Kazuma said doubtfully. "Although I think he brought a great deal of it down on himself. Just don't be too disappointed if he's not as friendly as you hope."
Iris frowned. "Do you really think so? You've worked with him for a while, haven't you? Is he always so bad?"
"I'm sure the man must have some good qualities!" Sholmes interrupted. "He's just a bit grumpy, like Wagahai in the morning! I suppose his apprentice would have to deal with the brunt of it, but outside the office is another story."
Sholmes threw Kazuma another look over Iris's head. Kazuma had never once seen van Zieks be nice to Sholmes, so he wasn't sure why the detective bothered defending him.
Iris looked at Kazuma, eyes wide and expectant, and he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. She expected a proper answer, and his mind drifted back to those months spent in the office as a faceless, amnesic apprentice before he could stop it.
He thought of the time he'd gotten one of his splitting headaches in the office, the kind he got periodically since waking up without memories, and how van Zieks had taken one look at him and packed him straight off to the doctor, his voice a low growl in Kazuma's ear: "You can go back to fussing about Lord Stronghart's ridiculous orders later, but you had better tell me what's wrong. The quality of your work will be abysmal if you're ill." He thought of the time he'd handed in a report and van Zieks had paused his ruthless corrections to study a point on which they disagreed, gears turning behind his eyes, and then said, rather than ignoring the matter or taking the credit himself, "This…is a fair point. I shall adjust my argument. Good work." He thought of how he'd wilted under Stronghart's sly, predatory gaze when he'd first stood at his new mentor's shoulder, and of how van Zieks had seemed oblivious but started attending these meetings alone when possible, how he'd rounded on Kazuma when they were safely back in their office and said, "I don't know what situation you've found yourself in with Lord Stronghart, but take care. He likes his games. You are not to meet with him alone unless he demands it." He thought of the time they'd stood panting in the darkened streets, swords in hand, as their attackers scrambled back into the shadows in a panic, when van Zieks had said, "Defending me is beyond the scope of your apprenticeship. Next time, you will retreat and defend yourself only if necessary."
It was easier not to think of such things.
"…I suppose not," he admitted reluctantly. "He's not very friendly, but he can be…considerate. When he wants to be."
Iris's face lit back up again. "How nice! That's something to work with, isn't it? Oh! Since you work with him, maybe you could help convince him!"
Kazuma grimaced. "We are not friends, and we do not discuss personal matters."
"But you could at least pass on a message, couldn't you?" she asked, widening her eyes as far as they would go.
And that was how Kazuma found himself standing in front of van Zieks's desk the next morning, handing over a small pink envelope. It was very difficult to say no to Iris. He saw why Ryunosuke and Susato were so fond of her.
"I had tea with Iris yesterday," he said as van Zieks regarded the letter as if it were a viper preparing to strike. "She was quite insistent that I pass on an invitation."
If anything, the grimace on van Zieks's face only deepened. He took the envelope between two fingers, regarding it warily as he positioned it in the corner of his desk and straightened its edges to line up with his workspace. He did not open it or acknowledge it in any way, but Kazuma caught his gaze darting towards it every so often and then away again just as fast.
"Here." Van Zieks handed over the two reports Kazuma had turned in just before taking off to meet the boat, the ones reconstructing old cases. "You may review my comments on your own time and bring me any questions you have. Revise your arguments and return them to me for a final review, and I have pulled another case file for you to practice on when you are finished with those."
Kazuma grimaced down at the reams of notes scrawled across his work as van Zieks started for the door.
"More meetings?"
"If you've been listening to the rumblings at the office, you might be aware that a new Lord Chief Justice is very close to being appointed. And if you haven't been, you should start. Keeping abreast of developments close to home is important, and there is much information to be gleaned by listening and making acquaintances. I am off to make a few discreet enquiries. I'll be back after lunch. I've blocked out time this afternoon to be available if you want to discuss your work. In the meantime, go over my corrections."
And then he was gone, leaving Kazuma once again alone with his thoughts.
Over the next couple of weeks, Kazuma came to the conclusion that van Zieks was trying to get rid of him after all. The man had always been strict and quick to point out mistakes, but now he was nitpicking everything Kazuma did to the point where his corrections seemed more numerous and of greater length than the reports they were criticizing.
It wasn't that van Zieks was wrong, per se. His critiques were harsh but fair, and his advice was brusque but solid. It was just that he had started picking apart every single mistake or soft spot he found, no matter how tiny, and dissecting each and every element of Kazuma's work. And while sometimes the comments were terse—fix this; conjecture; needs definitive evidence; reread the witness statements—more often than not they were quite verbose, sometimes paragraphs unto themselves as he outlined exactly why he deemed something an issue and suggested how to address it.
This shift could be because he was not as available as he used to be, with all his meetings. Or it could be because Kazuma, trying to interact with his mentor as little as possible, almost never brought questions to him even when he specifically blocked out time to be available. Since van Zieks was often not actively mentoring Kazuma in person, instead leaving him to his self-study, his solution seemed to be going through his apprentice's work with a fine-tooth comb and writing critical essays to be read while he was off on other business.
That all seemed perfectly logical, but Kazuma thought van Zieks was just being unbelievably petty about the whole thing. There was no need to tear apart every little thing, even the pieces that hardly mattered at all, and he was getting sick of having to rewrite all of his reports halfway from scratch, sometimes two or three times before van Zieks was satisfied. It was ridiculous and a waste of time. Kazuma was starting to think that van Zieks was trying to make him frustrated enough to quit. Van Zieks might have agreed, reluctantly, to continue the apprenticeship, but if he could bully Kazuma into calling it quits…
Kazuma was too stubborn to be pushed out by a little thing like that, but it was getting under his skin. Van Zieks had maintained a cold civility, largely ignoring Kazuma's barbs and concealing his own hostility, but the petty criticisms, tense silences, and occasional needling comments were their own kind of small aggressions.
Kazuma would prefer to just have an out-and-out fight. He'd rather van Zieks unsheathe his claws and fight back, vent his own hatred and give Kazuma the opportunity to unleash all the bitterness welling up inside him. It was harder to justify tearing into someone who wouldn't engage. This death by a thousand papercuts was a hundred times worse.
There was no way to complain about this treatment without coming off as whiny or lazy. He could say that his work was fine and van Zieks was wrong, but that wasn't quite true and would sound like he was making excuses for himself. He could say that the comments were good but there were too many of them, but that sounded like he was just whinging and looking for a way out of work. He could say that he knew van Zieks was trying to bully him out of the office, but that would open up the conversation they'd been avoiding and give van Zieks the opportunity to say, "Then go."
So he said nothing and bided his time, but his resentment festered without any outlet. Finally, van Zieks handed back a report with an entire paragraph crossed out on the front page, comments crammed into every margin and scrawled across an entirely new sheet of paper attached, and Kazuma couldn't stop the bitter laugh crawling up his throat.
"This again," he said, standing before the ornate desk and flipping through the report, noting the dozens of corrections littered throughout.
"What now, Mr. Asogi?" van Zieks asked with a sigh. "I thought you'd understand how this works by now."
Kazuma brandished the sheaf of papers in his direction, the corners aimed at his chest. "You have been picking apart every single thing I do ever since you found out who I was!"
"That's how you learn."
"No, you're just being spiteful and petty. You were always insufferable, but you never used to be this fussy about every detail. If you have a problem with me, why don't you just say it instead of hassling me to death?"
Van Zieks brought a hand to his face, massaging his temples as if Kazuma was the headache here. "I have not been as available lately with all the meetings and paperwork I have to do for other things"—this was pointed, a jab at what an exhausting and time-consuming process advocating for Kazuma's apprenticeship was proving to be—"so I am trying to provide comprehensive feedback on your work to assist with your self-study. We have always gone over your work meticulously."
"Not like this. You're just nitpicking every little thing to frustrate me. If you think that's going to annoy me enough to quit, you're wrong."
Van Zieks opened his eyes and stared at Kazuma. "I would never doubt your resolve or determination to succeed—or bullheaded stubbornness. I don't expect I could chase you out of my office even if I wanted to, and it would be foolish to try, don't you think, after how much time and effort I've put into making sure you could stay. That would be a ridiculous waste. You're smarter than that, Mr. Asogi. Stop sulking and use your brain."
Kazuma glared. "Explain it to me, then."
"I just did. You haven't had the benefit of in-person instruction recently, so I've provided an alternative. And if you think that I'm stricter with you than I was before, that's because I know what you can do now."
Kazuma raised his eyebrows, surprised van Zieks was admitting it so readily. "Because I almost got you convicted."
Van Zieks gave him a look of exasperated disbelief. "Yes, actually. But no. This isn't some punishment for your dogged persecution, although it would try the patience of a saint to put up with your insolence every day and not grow a little spiteful. You were untried, before. You did your work and did it well, but no more than that. You didn't have a courtroom performance thanks to Lord Stronghart's melodramatic orders, and you did your assigned tasks diligently without going above and beyond at anything.
"And then you got your chance to show what you could do in the courtroom. Yes, you displayed egregious lapses of judgment and prosecutorial misconduct, but your overall performance was impressive. You are skilled and talented, and it was the first time I could truly measure the extent of your abilities. I am exacting in correcting your work because now I know what you can do. I know you can do better. Frankly, everything you've turned in lately is lackluster. You aren't taking it seriously. It's not as glamorous or impactful as taking on a real case, or perhaps you are only testing my patience with these insipid reports. But this is an important part of your education, and until such time as you are allowed to stand in the courtroom again, it's the best part available to you.
"You possess a great deal of drive and ability, but that won't be enough if you don't put in the work. You have the potential to become a brilliant attorney. I am not going to waste my time or yours teaching you how to be a mediocre one. And so I will nitpick your work as much as I deem necessary, until I know that you are giving me your best, and I will be as strict as it takes to help you reach your full potential."
Kazuma stared at him blankly. It was all excuses, probably. Grasping for an explanation to put a better spin on things. But then, van Zieks had never cared much what anyone thought of him or his motives. The words still didn't have quite the ring of a compliment, but it was an acknowledgement of Kazuma's ability, even if that ability had been displayed in potentially the worst way possible. He was surprised van Zieks might think so highly of his performance in the Reaper trial, given everything.
"Why bother?" he asked. "You only agreed to take me back because I guilted you into it as a favor to my father. There's no obligation for you to put in more than the bare minimum."
"…You are wrong, Mr. Asogi."
"Is that so?"
"I did not agree because of your father."
Kazuma frowned. "I'm very sure you only agreed after I–"
Van Zieks shook his head. "Dead men need no favors. You were still my apprentice and my responsibility. I thought it unwise to continue as such for this very reason, because I foresaw your resentment impeding your progress, but you insisted. Given that you have been left more or less alone in London in a very precarious position, it also seemed unwise to turn you away. And to be quite frank, it occurred to me that you might have a difficult time finding someone willing to put in the work to keep you here in the first place. You have a great deal of talent that it would be a waste to throw away. You said that you wanted to learn from the best. If you wanted to learn how to be a mediocre prosecutor, you should have chosen someone else to study under. I intend to mold you into the best lawyer you can be, just as you asked me to, and sometimes that might require some measure of nitpicking."
Kazuma opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. Van Zieks had surprised him once again with how thoroughly he had thought things through—and with the unexpected turn of his motivations. Whether or not he was telling the truth… Well, there was really no way to tell, but he'd never been prone to lying before, even if he might not be forthcoming with his intentions.
It was a lot to digest all at once, and Kazuma couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He needed time to consider these new possibilities and think through the implications, sift through what was genuine and what was van Zieks saving face.
"I don't…understand," he said. "If it wasn't because… Then why did you agree, really?"
Van Zieks's eyebrows rose minutely. "Because you asked me to."
Kazuma refused to believe it could be so simple. There had to be something else. He couldn't think of a good reason for van Zieks to agree to such a thing besides guilt or some private, spiteful motive. He did not understand the man at all.
The fight had drained out of him, his growing bafflement pushing it out.
"I…"
"If it makes you feel any better," van Zieks said briskly, "I have good news. As you know, a new Lord Chief Justice was appointed a week and a half ago. I've been meeting with him ever since, and we have agreed on the terms of your probation and finalized the status of your study tour. We have a meeting with him after lunch so that he can go over the terms with you, but for your own peace of mind… You will be allowed on investigations and in the courtroom again, but only under my supervision. You will not have the authority to act alone until you earn the privilege. If all goes well, I hope to advocate for you to begin prosecuting small cases yourself within the next few months, although I expect my presence will still be required at the bench. You are escaping any formal reprimand for your conduct aside from these restrictions, so it's not all bad."
Kazuma's heart lifted, the pages of his report crinkling as his hands tightened around them. "No more self-study?"
"Well, less of it. I should be more or less finished with diplomatic meetings and paperwork for the time being, so I will be more available. And I have taken the liberty of selecting our next case, so we will be back at our normal work shortly."
Kazuma smiled despite himself. "Finally."
Van Zieks looked away, shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. "Oh, and bring the Whitcomb and Stratton case reports with you to our meeting. The Lord Chief Justice has requested that you submit samples of the work you've been doing. Which is another reason I asked you to rewrite them to the best of your ability. You'll want to make a good first impression."
This time, it was Kazuma who swallowed hard and looked away.