Chapter Text
Much to his frustration, Asougi found he was having a hard time remembering things.
It didn’t used to be like this. He knew it didn’t used to be like this. He wouldn’t be the pride of Teito Yuumei University if he was always forgetting things. But as the Masked Disciple things were different; he had to be reminded of things constantly, much to Van Zieks’s irritation. He’d forget what he had for breakfast or if he had eaten at all not even an hour after having it. Van Zieks would tell him to fill out some paperwork only for him to forget what he was supposed to be writing down the moment he pulled out a pen. There were even some occasions in which he had completely forgotten where he lived and would just spend the night resting his head on his desk in his and Van Zieks’s shared office, too prideful to be escorted home.
Things began to get a little better when his original memories returned, but the going was much slower than he’d like. The morning after he had gotten his memories back he woke up in his bedroom in his flat only to wonder why he wasn’t in his cabin on the S.S. Alaclaire. Having his memories of his identity and most importantly his past made him feel like he was sucked back there while memories of his months spent as a nameless amnesiac seemed to blur together. Important events stuck out in his mind, enough so that he could explain to Naruhodou what had happened when he had asked, but specific incidents he simply could not recall. He remembered the oppressive, exhausting heat and the smell of soot and his muscles aching from working tirelessly on a freight ship but he simply couldn’t remember if he had made any friends with the other sailors. He remembered arriving in England and being appointed as Van Zieks’s assistant but he had no recollection of how he had managed to get a flat of his own or when he had acquired the sword he was to keep with him at all times.
Not only that but things about himself had changed without him remembering why. A thin scar crossed his right palm and his left forearm, both of which were long since healed and were barely visible. Along with that, an angry red burn covered his left shoulder, though it didn’t hurt anymore when he touched it. He had no recollection of how he had gotten any of these new marks, so he tried to ignore them. But he also found himself reacting to the strangest things, from memories he simply couldn’t recall. The sound of a teakettle hissing made him extremely on edge and he couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. For some reason, walking past large groups of British men on the street made him tense up quite a bit. And the sensation of being touched – even simple touches, like a hand placed on his shoulder – made him feel uneasy, as if something bad was going to happen, and he began to appear cold and standoffish, even around old friends like Naruhodou.
But at the time it hadn’t mattered to him much. Who cared that he didn’t remember much from his time as an amnesiac? What did that matter? For all he was concerned all of that time had been a complete and utter waste. He immediately got to work; now that he was here and remembered what he needed to be doing, he would devote his time to that alone. And that he did until that fateful case where, with the help of his dearest friend, he had been able to find the truth. At long last, he had closure.
But…
But for some reason, something still felt off. For the first time in his entire life, he found himself faced with a question that he had always known the answer to: now what? This was never something he had struggled with before. There was always something to do. Go to school, work hard, become a defense attorney, find out what actually happened to his father, clear his name… Honestly, that was all he had ever strived for, that’s what he had spent a decade of his life working towards! So now that it was all said and done… now what?
He supposed that’s sort of why he stayed in England. This was his exchange trip after all. He was an attorney – er, prosecutor. This could be his chance to turn over a new leaf, to find a new path to follow, all on his own. That, and he wanted to make himself into a better person before he returned to Japan. If he was being honest, he was ashamed of the way he had acted during that final trial with Naruhodou. Van Zieks was right; he was a failure as a prosecutor for letting his feelings cloud his judgment. He hadn’t meant to get like that. And… he hadn’t meant for Naruhodou to see him like that, either. He was going to stay here and work hard to find the truth in the cases he took on and he’d make sure to keep his emotions buried and as locked up inside him as he could. That way, when he finally returned home to Japan, he could be someone worthwhile, someone who would bring pride to Teito Yummei University, to Mikotoba and Susato, to his family name…
And honestly, he wanted to become someone Naruhodou would be proud to call his friend again.
So, he went to work. Immediately after Naruhodou and Susato’s departure, he took on as many cases as he could get his hands on. He had promised Naruhodou that he would work towards justice and quell the anger inside of him by the next time they met and he wanted to get a head start on that if he could. For the most part, it was working. He hadn’t gotten as upset during a case since the trial revolving around Detective Gregson’s murder. However, something still seemed… off. He had taken on so many cases, prosecuting crimes that ranged from things as awful as murder to crimes as mundane as petty theft. But none of the cases, no matter how severe the crime, seemed to pique his interest. Sure, he was thankful he wasn’t letting rage and doubt cloud his mind but… he found himself checking out rather quickly and oftentimes he’d forget what the case had been about merely a day or so after the verdict had been handed down. This… wasn’t how it was supposed to be, was it? When he imagined what being an attorney would be like when he was growing up and in school, he imagined fast paced trials where he gave it his all each and every day and fought tooth and nail to protect innocent defendants from being declared guilty of crimes they didn’t commit. He imagined himself being a hero, a hero to people like his father who he just knew growing up had to be innocent. He knew it!
Maybe it was different because he was a prosecutor and not a defense attorney. And hell, maybe being a defense attorney wasn’t even as glamorous as he had imagined it was. It wasn’t like he had ever gotten the chance to find out and he likely never would.
And if he was being honest, that made him a little angry.
No, no, it didn’t make him angry! He wasn’t angry. He was trying to get better about this. He wasn’t mad; he was fine! Things didn’t go the way he had planned but he was content and perfectly happy with the way things were going and he was more than happy to do the… the…
Now what was it he was doing, again?
He glanced down at the paper before him; it was a typical case overview of today’s trial; he was just finishing out the final details before giving it to Van Zieks who would have it stored away in the archives. It reminded him of the busywork he’d been tasked to do by professors back at university; and it seemed just as useless as that. Why should he have to fill out a final piece of paperwork explaining the case when a judge and whole courtroom of witnesses and jury members had just seen it for themselves? What was the point?
He supposed it was for memory’s sake. He of all people should know how easy it is to forget something. And he supposed the government needed records of every crime committed and every culprit responsible, even things as simple as… as….
What was the crime, again?
He groaned. The trial was this morning! How had he already forgotten? He glanced at the paper, which told him the answer: murder. Oh. This had been a murder case? He had forgotten about a murder case? What was wrong with him? This is what he was supposed to be passionate about! Making sure the true murderers got their prompt punishment and keeping the innocent safe from killers like them. So why had he forgotten about this particular crime as easily as he had forgotten what he had had for breakfast this morning? This was his job and he should be taking it more seriously and he shouldn’t be forgetting things or treating it with apathy and he shouldn’t be…
Asougi let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair in anger.
No, not anger. He wasn’t mad! He was going to tell himself that until those detrimental feelings disappeared entirely. Frustrated, that’s it. He was just a little bit frustrated. Frustration was normal and it’s fine as long as it didn’t spiral out of control which he wouldn’t let it and he was fine he just needed to finish filling out the paperwork and just get onto the next case like every other normal prosecutor in this building because he was normal and one of them and he belonged here and he most certainly was not mad and-
“Prosecutor Asougi?”
Van Zieks’s voice startled him and Asougi jolted up straight, nearly dropping his pen in the process. Van Zieks was standing above him, a bottle of wine in hand.
“…Did I scare you?”
“No.” Asougi replied curtly. “I was just… ” Distracted? Day dreaming? Out of it? None of these answers would satisfy Van Zieks and the last thing he needed to hear from him was how useless he was. “What did you need?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to congratulate you on the guilty verdict today.”
“…Really?”
“Yes. The jurors were clearly predisposed to be on the defendant’s side, but you were able to turn their reasoning around. Good job.” He placed a wine glass down on Asougi’s desk and began to pour him a drink.
“What are you doing?”
“I celebrate a job well done by having a glass of my favorite wine. I figured I should do the same for you.”
Asougi had the urge to make a snide comment that Van Zieks didn’t even need a job well done as an excuse to drink but he held off for now. Frankly, he was still a little bitter towards him. Six months of Van Zieks treating him like a servant and simply referring to him as you there wasn’t going to go away over night. Especially since Asougi still had the nagging feeling that the letter sent to his household all those years ago cursing his family’s name was from him. But… he had apologized. And though he had blatantly told him that he didn’t forgive him yet, he seemed to at least be trying to make amends. He supposed the least he could do was tolerate it, and attempt to be nice in return. It’s… what Naruhodou would do, at least.
“Thanks,” Asougi said, “but I don’t drink wine.”
“Since when?”
“Since always? I don’t have any interest.”
“You’ve had a drink with me before.”
“I… have?”
“Yes. You don’t remember?”
“No… When was this?”
“Multiple occasions when you were working under me. I’d offer you a drink whenever I got myself one and you never turned it down. You don’t recall this?”
“No. Things from… before I got my memories back are kind of blurry to me.”
“Like what?”
“If I knew then I’d know it, wouldn’t I? It’ll come back to me eventually, I’m sure.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“You… don’t?”
“No. You’ve proven yourself as a more than competent prosecutor in a very short amount of time. Cheers.” He held his own glass out towards Asougi.
“…Right.” Honestly, Van Zieks being so cordial with him was… strange. He half expected him to say something snide about his memory or tell him to get back to work. But here he was, offering him wine from his fancy collection and giving him a toast. He could tell Van Zieks was just as unused to this if the way he was anxiously tapping his fingers on the glass was any indication. Asougi didn’t really know what else to say so he picked up his own glass and followed suit, clinking them together. He still thought the wine smelled nasty but he supposed it beat having Van Zieks treat him like a walking bottle opener. That, and it gave him something aside from paperwork to do.
He took a sip of the wine; it tasted like grape juice, though it was a little bitter and sharp. Asougi found he didn’t hate it, however, and continued drinking from his glass even as Van Zieks returned to his own desk and they went back to work. A little after having the whole glass, he found the paperwork he was filling out to be far easier. Well, not necessarily easier, but less frustrating and tedious. Maybe it was because the drink made him a little sleepy. He couldn’t be very angry if all he really wanted to do was take a nap, right? Maybe this was how Van Zieks managed to stay calm all the time.
Hmm…
Asougi certainly didn’t want to make it a habit, but maybe if he found himself getting overwhelmed…
“Prosecutor Van Zieks?” He asked, just as Van Zieks had begun to put his coat on to head home for the night.
“Yes?”
“Can I keep this?” He asked, gesturing to the wine bottle still on his desk.
“Ah. You liked it?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, take as much as you want, then. You know just as well as I do that there’s enough wine in this office to last a couple lifetimes.”
“All right, thank you.” Van Zieks just nodded, and went on his way. Asougi checked the clock on the wall; it was nearly six. He supposed it was getting a little late. He organized his desk, put the bottle of wine in his bag, and headed out as well. He planned on heading home, making himself dinner, and going to bed. Frankly, he was tired. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the fact he had a trial earlier too, but all he really wanted to do was sleep.
“Hello!”
He wondered what he should make for tonight. Did he have any eggs? Quiche sounded nice.
“Hey, excuse me?”
Honestly, he wanted soba. When was the last time he had had any soba? It had to have been a year at least.
“Kazumie!”
Asougi stopped and turned around where he found a little girl quickly trying to catch up to him. Huh. He hadn’t even realized he was being followed. Had she been trying to talk to him this whole time?
“Kazumie?” Asougi repeated. “Are you talking to me?”
“Obviously! Who else would go by that?”
“I don’t even go by that…”
“It’s a nickname, Kazumie. I give all my friends nicknames.”
“Friends…?” He just stared at this girl. Did she… know him from somewhere? Now that he thought about it, she did look familiar. Most little girls in England didn’t have bright pink hair tied to look like a bow nor did they walk around with a complicated looking gun sticking out of their backpack.
Right.
Right, he knew this girl; this was Holmes’s adopted daughter. She had been there when they all saw Susato and Naruhodou off, though he hadn’t really talked to her or Holmes much. She had shown up during that final trial too, hadn’t she? He had been so focused on trying to find out what had really happened that he hadn’t really thought about her much.
Now… what was her name, again?
“Right. You’re… um…” Now that he thought about it, did he ever actually learn her name? She was Holmes’s daughter, Van Zieks’s biological niece… what was her name? “Miss Holmes, right?”
“Miss Holmes…?” She repeated. “Hmm… I guess if I’m calling Holmsie Papa now that would make me Miss Holmes.”
“Do you want me to call you something else?”
“My friends call me Iris.”
“Right.” Were they really friends? Since when? Had he ever really directly spoken to her? “Well, Iris, what brings you here tonight?”
“I just wanted to tell you good job at the trial.”
“You… watched that?”
“Yup! Narudie always used to tell me how amazing you were in the courtroom so I wanted to watch for myself.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be sitting in on murder trials?”
“Nah. I was Narudie’s co-counsel during a murder trial once! I can handle it.”
“Why did he make you co counsel?”
“Oh, he didn’t make me. But Susie was about to go home… and he really needed somebody.”
“Right...” The thought made him laugh. He could practically imagine Naruhodou, his eyes twitching back and forth as he found himself cornered, as a little girl helped him figure his way out. …Then again, he wasn’t much better himself. After all, if it hadn’t been for Iris and Holmes’s interruption, he would’ve never convicted Jigoku or Vortex. “But the trial was hours ago. What are you doing at the prosecutor’s office this late?”
“I was going for a walk.”
“In the middle of January?” Iris just nodded. “But it’s snowing!”
“It’s not snowing that hard.”
“Well… where’s your father?”
“Oh, Papa? He’s probably back home.”
“He left you out here all on your own?!” Asougi snapped.
“What? No, Papa would never do that. I left on my own accord. In fact, he’s probably worried sick right now.”
“Of course he is! It’s already dark out!”
“Hmm… you’re right.” She said, idly glancing up at the sky.
“Look… I’ll walk you home, all right? It can get dangerous this late!”
“Well thanks for the offer, but there’s still something I need to do first.”
“Whatever you need to do, it can wait until morning or until you’re with your father.”
“If you say so.” She replied, folding her arms defiantly.
“Now. Where do you live again?”
“Hmm.” She just stared at him. “I dunno.”
“What? Of course you do!”
“I dunno.” She said again, a coy smile on her face. “Have you read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?”
“No, I haven’t. That was always more Mikotoba’s thing.”
“Well, the address is in there. Since you haven’t read it, I guess we’ll never know.” She shrugged.
“Fine, if you’re not going to tell me then I’ll just guess.” He thought for a moment, trying to remember. He felt like Naruhodou had told him once, briefly, or maybe it was Holmes, or more likely Iris that had told him… - come over if you want sometime, Kazumie! – right, right, Iris had told him that the day Susato and Naruhodou had left, hadn’t she? He must have forgotten about it; if he was being honest, he had spent most of that day trying to calm the nervous feeling in his heart that perhaps not asking either of them to stay with him and remaining alone in England hadn’t been the right choice. Now what was it, what was it… “221B… Barker Street. Right?”
“I don’t know, is it?” The answer was immediate, so he assumed he was wrong.
“Fine, one more time. Uh… 221B Baker Street?”
“I don’t know, is it?” Her voice didn’t falter. He gave her a look, but she just stared back. He couldn’t seem to read her at all.
“Iris…” He groaned. “All right, I give up. But I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. How about I walk you back to my flat, and then you give your father a call? You know your own phone number, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Right. Then let’s go. It’s only a few blocks away.”
“All right!”
As they walked, Iris grabbed his hand. He shook it away, but then she quickly grabbed it again and he gave up. He supposed this way she couldn’t wander off at least.
Still, it felt weird to be holding her hand. When was the last time someone had held his hand? He felt like he had held hands with his mother as a little kid when they had gone grocery shopping – hold my hand, Kazuma, you don’t want to get lost! – or maybe it had been after he moved in with the Mikotobas as he walked Susato to school when she had only been seven or eight years old. Either way, it had been a long time and it just seemed so foreign to him. He tended to come off as rather cold and unapproachable. Why would anyone want to hold his hand?
Especially someone like her? He gazed down at her, but she looked pretty content as she chatted away beside him, occasionally catching snowflakes on her hand before brushing them off again. Asougi wondered what she would do if she knew exactly who’s hand she was holding. He was Asougi Genshin’s son, and though he hadn’t turned out to be the Professor like everyone had thought he was, he had still taken Klimt Van Zieks’s life. He had still killed Iris’s father. If it weren’t for his father, Iris would have been able to have a normal family and a normal life. And what child didn’t want that? It was all he had been able to think about when he had moved in with Mikotoba and was unable to call him or Susato family.
How would Iris feel if she knew who’s hand she was holding? Would she be disgusted to be holding the hand of a killer’s son? Would she be scared and run away? Would she be mad that she had allowed the son of her father’s killer to be so close to her?
Somehow, Asougi felt like he knew how she’d react. After all, he had seen it before from Naruhodou and Susato during their last case together. Doubt, apprehension and uneasiness. When he had gotten mad… when he had gotten desperate… that was how Naruhodou had looked at him. He… hated himself for it, still. He wanted to be someone worthwhile, someone people could rely upon and trust. He didn’t want to be someone people were afraid of. That’s why he needed to stay here, alone, and fix himself so he didn’t feel so extremely anymore. It didn’t matter that a couple of months had passed already. Right now, he still hadn’t made a difference. He was still Genshin Asougi’s son, he was still a killer’s son that was known for letting his feelings take so much of a hold on him that he had nearly become a killer himself. Why would anyone trust or admire someone like that?
He let go of Iris’s hand again. But as expected, she just reached up and grabbed it again. He just sighed and let her; he supposed his dirtied hands couldn’t sully hers if they were both wearing gloves.
“So this is where you live?”
“Yeah,” Asougi replied, opening the door to his flat for her, “why?”
“No reason. I just figured you’d live someplace super fancy.”
Fancy was absolutely the last way he’d describe his flat. Not that it was horrible, nor did he live in squalor or anything like that. It just… wasn’t much to comment on. It was a rather small, simply furnished English flat. In the living room was a fireplace, with a little rug laid out in front of it. On top of it sat a small coffee table. He had a single armchair, where he’d usually sit and relax when he came home from work. A small hall to the left lead to a bathroom and a bedroom, and to the right was the kitchen. That was pretty much it, and he didn’t feel the need to give Iris a tour.
All together, there was nothing special about the place. If he was being honest, he didn’t like it here very much. When he had first set off on this abroad trip, he had brought some of his things from his room with him, as well as Karuma of course, anything that would make wherever he would be staying feel a bit more like home. He idly wondered where most of his things went. Were they given to Naruhodou? Or maybe Susato? Or were they perhaps just thrown into the ocean, seeing how their owner was presumably dead? He seriously hoped it was one of the formers. He hadn’t brought a lot with him, considering that his… mission was supposed to send him back home early, but the whole ordeal was uncertain and there had been one thing in particular he wanted to keep with him no matter what.
In a secret compartment in the side of suitcase, he had stowed away a photograph of him and his father. It was the only image he had left of him, after all. The two of them were standing in front of their old home in Japan; his father looked serious as always with Karuma by his side, and Asougi had tried to imitate him by tying a long stick to his obi. He… loved that picture. It was the first real photo he had ever seen. Seeing his own face staring back at him on a piece of paper was stunning to say the least. He begged his mother to keep it and she had let him, so long as he promised to take good care of it. And that he did… well, until his father had set off to England for his exchange trip, only to never return. When the weeks bled into months with no word from him and his mother began to grow ill, he had kept the picture tucked safely under his pillow. Even now, he wasn’t sure why he had done it. Maybe he thought that having his father’s image close to him would somehow bring him back. Or maybe he just thought that it would make him feel even slightly less lonely and worried. Either way, it hadn’t worked, and after his mother died and he had moved in with Mikotoba, he begged him to get it framed. Now that his father really was gone, he had to make sure he kept the only image of him safe somehow.
His heart sank when he thought about the possibility of it actually being gone. What if neither Naruhodou or Susato had it? What if it really had been thrown away or dumped into the sea? What if the last image Asougi ever got to see of his father was that horrifying wax sculpture, made to look as if he was some sort of bloodthirsty, undead monster?
No, no, now that he was dwelling on it he found himself growing even more anxious. His memory was so bad already; now that the photograph was gone, what if he forgot what he really looked like? It had already been a decade since he had heard his voice or felt him ruffle his hair or seen him in person… what if he wound up forgetting all of those things? And his mother… he didn’t even have any photographs left of her! The last he ever saw of her, she had been laying in her futon and she had reached out to him, weakly, so weak he had to help guide her hand to his cheek with his own and she had smiled at him, maybe, he hadn’t been able to tell because he had been crying so hard and it was blurring his vision and… and… she had said something to him, what was it again? I’m sorry – no, it wasn’t that… stay strong - right? Or I love you, Kazuma… maybe? He simply couldn’t remember! What was wrong with him?! It didn’t matter that he was upset at the time, why couldn’t he remember something like that?!
And his father… what had he said to him last, anyways? Whatever it was, it probably hadn’t been good enough. His trip seemed so inconsequential… he had been so certain he would come back in just a few years or so. He had left so early in the morning and he had told Asougi to go back to bed, you have to rest up for school, Kazuma… was that the last thing his father had said to him? It couldn’t be, right? There had to have been an I love you, I’ll miss you, I’ll be home soon… somewhere, right? He… he simply couldn’t remember.
He found himself growing angry. He didn’t want to forget what they sounded like, or what they looked like! It wasn’t fair that he had lost them so young! He didn’t want to forget about them, he didn’t want them to slip away in his already worthless mind as quickly as memories of what he did at work today did. He would never be able to forgive himself if he let that happen! What sort of son would he be if he allowed that to happen? Surely his parents would be ashamed of him!
“Kazumie?”
Iris’s voice brought him back to reality. She had already made herself at home, if her coat hanging on the rack and her backpack tossed onto the coffee table was any indication. He was still standing by the door, holding it open for no one as snow began to pile on his foot and shoulder. Right, right, it was 1901 and he was twenty-four and it was snowing outside and he was an adult, damn it, he needed to get it together because the last thing he wanted was to have a meltdown in front of his young guest. He finally shut the door.
“Is something wrong?” She asked.
“I’m just a little tired, Iris. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is Barry overworking you?”
“Barry? You mean Van Zieks?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“No, he’s… fine, I guess.” He said bitterly. “He congratulated me on the trial today, and even gave me some wine to celebrate.”
“You got drunk with Barry?”
“I am not drunk! I only had one glass! Besides, he’s… attempting to be nice to me for once. If I’m going to be working with him I should probably at least try to be nice back.”
“Why wouldn’t he be nice to you?”
Why would anyone want to be nice to me, he thought, but he kept that to himself for now, figuring that his self-depreciating comments would be lost on her. She didn’t need to know about his many, many flaws; right now she needed a warm place to stay until her father could come pick her up. That… and perhaps a cup of tea. She still looked a bit chilly and some snowflakes still sprinkled the top of her head.
“Would you like some tea, Iris?” He asked, quickly changing the subject.
“I’d love some!”
“All right. I’ll make us some while you call your father, all right?”
“Okay!”
He headed to the kitchen to get the tea started, silently hoping that he had more than one teacup in the cabinet. Now that he thought about it, had he ever had a guest over? He hadn’t gotten around to inviting Naruhodou or Susato; he had been too busy trying to finish his mission and once things had settled down, they had left pretty quickly. There was always the chance he had had someone else over before. In fact, he was quite certain of it. If he shut his eyes and concentrated he felt like he could recall the tiniest bits of information at the brink of his mind, just far enough away that he was unable to grasp it.
He recalled tea being made by someone else, being asked to open up the cabinet where two teacups had been left on the highest shelf, just a little too far for him to reach. I’ll get that for you, someone had told him, pushing past him to grab them. Who… who was it? He simply couldn’t recall. Van Zieks, maybe? He was quite a bit taller than him, but Asougi simply couldn’t imagine him in this drab little flat. Well, he could, but he was certain Van Zieks would do nothing but complain about how pathetic or simple his lifestyle was and he certainly couldn’t imagine him helping him grab a glass. Well… who else could it have been? It wasn’t like he had many friends here in England. Or… any friends at all, now that he thought about it.
The kettle began to screech before he could dwell on that too long and he quickly put it to the side. Honestly, there were few noises more grating to him than the sound of a kettle screaming. He poured Iris and himself a cup of tea, and then brought it back out to her. She was sitting on his armchair, doodling away on a notepad she had pulled out from her backpack. He only had the one chair, so he knelt down beside the coffee table instead, sitting on his folded legs.
“Thanks, Kazumie.”
“Yeah, no problem. Did you manage to call Holmes?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t have a phone.”
“What? Of course I do! It’s at the end of the east hallway beside the…” He paused. His small flat only had one hallway. He was thinking of his old home, back in Japan. Well, not his home. He was thinking of Mikotoba’s estate, where he had spent a great deal of the past decade since his parents had died. “Shit.”
“Kazumie!” She gasped.
“Sorry, Iris. I must have been thinking of my old home.” He sighed. “Now how are we going to get you home?”
“I mean-
“Are you sure you don’t remember your address?”
“Well-”
“Do you want me to walk you to the police station? Do you think they’d be able to help you?”
“You don’t have to do that-”
“Damn it! Why can’t I remember where you live?! I know you told me before but my memory is just so-”
“Kazumie!” Iris interjected. “It’s okay. Just… hold on a second, all right?” She grabbed her backpack and pulled off the little pink stuffed animal that was hanging from the side of it. She pressed a button on its back, and suddenly the room was filled with a blinding white light; bright enough that Asougi was forced to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he noticed that the light was still coming out of the bulbs embedded on the stuffed toy’s ears, and from them an image was being projected. Standing a few feet away from where they were sitting was none other than Sherlock Holmes. …Sort of.
“Iris!” Holmes exclaimed, rushing over to her as close as the projection would let him. “Where are you?! Do you know how late it is?!”
“Sorry, papa. I didn’t mean to stay out so long…”
Asougi recognized this immediately. After all, Naruhodou had done something like this during their trial together a few months ago. He had called Holmes and Iris into the courtroom just in the nick of time, despite them being with the Queen, far, far away. It didn’t matter that this was his second time seeing it; he just couldn’t seem to grasp that something like this was possible, that Sherlock Holmes could be in his home, looking at the two of them and talking to them as if he were there in person when he was far away himself. Asougi felt like if he got up right now and reached out to him he’d be able to feel the fabric of his trench coat but he stayed put, not wanting to make a fool of himself.
“Well… are you all right? Are you safe?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Kazumie walked me to his flat, see?”
“Right…” Holmes finally seemed to notice Asougi was in the room, and waved at him. Asougi waved back, hesitantly.
“He’s quite the gentleman, you know. He even made me tea!”
“Gentleman…?” Asougi mumbled to himself. Of the many words he would use to describe himself, that certainly wasn’t one of them.
“Well… where are you, exactly?”
“Ah, right. He lives four blocks west of the high prosecutor’s office. You know that brown brick building, the one with the skinny little pine tree in the front? He’s on the third floor.”
“All right, I’ll find you. Stay put, okay?”
“Okay!”
“And… Mr. Asougi?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for taking care of Iris.” He actually smiled at him when he said it.
“Yeah… don’t worry about it.” Asougi nodded. Iris said goodbye to him before finally turning the hologram off. For a moment, the two of them just sat in silence, enjoying the tea he had made. Well… Iris did. Frankly, Asougi hated the tea here. For some reason, the only tea he had in his home was English Breakfast and he despised it. Something about the taste was absolutely vile to him and drinking it made him want to throw up. He wasn’t sure why he had such a large box of the stuff but it’d be a shame to throw the whole thing out, so he kept using it for now. Maybe when he was done he could ask Naruhodou to send something decent over from Japan. Or maybe he could drink something else instead. At the very least, he didn’t hate coffee.
Iris, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content, and now that he thought about it, she hadn’t been acting at all like a ten year old who was all alone on the streets of London. Hell, even Holmes had shown more concern about her situation than she had. He knew Iris to be incredibly intelligent, but even a genius would be frightened under those circumstances, right?
“Iris?” He finally asked.
“Yes?”
“You weren’t actually lost, were you?”
“…Ah.” Iris set her teacup down. “Did I make it that obvious?”
“A little.”
“Well, thanks for taking me with you anyways. It’s nice to know that you’re helpful in a panic.”
“Helpful? Hardly. If it weren’t for your invention, we would’ve had no way to bring you home. I couldn’t even remember that I didn’t own a phone!”
“It happens. We all forget things sometimes.”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” He replied bitterly.
“…Kazumie, are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You seem to get really upset when you can’t remember things.”
“It…” Did he? He didn’t realize he had been that obvious about it. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“…You know, after someone gets amnesia, sometimes it takes awhile to remember everything even after they’ve recovered initially. You should make sure you get lots of rest, and-”
“Naruhodou told you about that?”
“Yeah.”
Asougi just sighed. He didn’t need everyone knowing just how feeble his mind was.
“He told me a lot about you, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Let me see… he said you’re really smart. Even after all his studying with Susie, he forgot things a lot and would need a reminder. I remember him complaining that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes if you were in his place. And he told me you were confident, too. He told me that when he first got here, he was terrified, and pretending to act like you was the only thing that calmed him down.”
“He… really said all that?” Asougi asked.
“Yeah. He really missed you, y’know. Sometimes he’d stare at your sword with a really far off expression. He wouldn’t really talk to me when he got like that, but I’m pretty sure he was thinking about you.”
“I see…” He looked away, feeling his face growing warm. He hadn’t realized that Naruhodou cared for him so much. A pessimistic part of him wondered if he still did, even after everything he had done. He… wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. Especially considering how quickly he had wanted to leave. After the trial had ended, he hadn’t even wanted to spend a single day with him to catch up. Asougi knew it was immature to think this way, that he had plenty of reasons to go, but… had he really become so unlikable in his best friend’s eyes? “I miss him, too.”
“Ah…” She smiled. “That’s part of the reason why I came here, actually. Narudie sent me a letter. It seems he and Susie finally made it back home! Papa and I got one, but… he wanted to know how you were doing, too. You never told him your new address, so he asked me to find out for him.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me? I would have told you. Why go to all the trouble of pretending to be lost?”
”Well… I really wanted to meet you, Kazumie. The way Narudie talked about you… I could tell he really admired you. And you didn’t stay around long enough for me to get to know you, so...”
“Iris…” Asougi smiled. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”
“So does this mean I can keep coming to your trials?”
“Oh. If you want to, I guess. But if the crime is too gruesome you’re not allowed to come.”
“Okay!”
“And no more going alone. I don’t care how smart you are, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. It’s dangerous.”
“I know, I know.” Still, she smiled. “I look forward to watching more of your cases. Narudie was right, watching you is just as amazing as he described it.”
“I-if you say so.” This child was going to be the death of him. He quickly got up and took their empty teacups back to the kitchen while he tried to think of something to say in return to her. He had never really known how to react to praise. It was probably because he never really felt like he had deserved it. Sure, he had done a good job, but there was still more he had to do. Why celebrate now when the job was only half done? So now that it was all said and done, that there was nothing else for him to work towards… he supposed he’d need to get better about slowing down, relaxing, and taking a compliment for once.
When he returned from the kitchen, Iris was doodling away in her notepad again. He strolled over to the armchair to get a better look at her sketch. It seemed she was drawing a prototype for a new invention… or a design for a plush toy. Frankly, he could never be too certain with her. Either way, the little cat she was drawing was quite cute.
“You know,” she said, not looking up from her drawing, “you can come stay with me and Papa if you want.”
“Huh?”
“Ever since Narudie and Susie left, that whole attic has been empty. There’s more than enough room for one more person.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I would hate to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing! Honestly, it’s been kind of lonely since they left.”
“Well, I just paid this month’s rent,” he lied, not remembering how he had even gotten this flat, “besides, this is a really convenient location for work.” He was going to add that he was pretty certain that Holmes didn’t care much for him, but he decided to keep that to himself for now.
“If you say so. But just in case…” She quickly wrote something down in her notepad, then tore it out for him. “Here, take it.”
It read: 221B Baker Street.
“So I was right.”
“Sorry about that, I had to come up with some way to come with you. But look on the bright side! Your memory’s not too bad after all!”
“I guess so.”
“Chin up, Kazumie! You’re bound to remember everything you’ve forgotten sooner or later. You just have to find something that’ll trigger the memories, and-“
“How am I supposed to do that when I don’t know what I’m looking for?”
“Well, it happened a first time, didn’t it?”
“That’s true…”
“But if you ever need any help, or a place to stay, or just some company… you’ll know where to find us.” She paused, looking around the sparsely decorated living room. “It can get kinda lonely on your own.”
“I don’t get lonely.”
“Nonsense, everyone gets lonely sometimes. Even I do!”
Asougi was going to argue that she was only ten so of course she got lonely, but he wasn’t much older when he had been orphaned. And though he wouldn’t readily admit it, he had been lonely back then, even after being taken in by Mikotoba. Only age and sheer determination to figure out what happened made him forget the loneliness, at least for a while.
“Thanks, Iris.” He said, putting the address in his pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She looked like she was going to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. She and Holmes didn’t stay for long; Holmes insisted that dinner was getting cold and he rushed her back home. He didn’t say much to Asougi, but he couldn’t be offended. He didn’t say much to him, either. Besides, he didn’t expect to earn Holmes’s respect overnight. Asougi was certain that Holmes knew him as the Japanese student sent to murder Detective Gregson, or the anger driven Prosecutor who was more focused on getting revenge than finding out the truth. He had seen the way he had acted for himself, and Asougi was certain that he would share Van Zieks’s opinion from that fateful day: that he was a failiure.
Asougi clenched his fist, trying to shake the negative thought from his mind. So people thought he was a failure, people thought he was worthless... Why have a fit about it? He was worthless, and he had stayed behind in England to change that! He just needed to keep his emotions in check and get his life back on track. Now… if only he had any idea how long that would take. Getting his memories back would certainly help but… he didn’t know how long that would take, either.
Well, at the very least he knew that it was something he had to do alone. He didn’t want to be reliant on people anymore. He had spent so much of his life doing that already! First there was Mikotoba, then Van Zieks… hell, he had even needed Naruhodou to help guide him past his frivolous emotions. He appreciated Iris’s kind gesture, but he would be fine on his own. Loneliness wasn’t something he worried about. Why dwell on companionship when there were more pressing matters at hand? He could surround himself with people once all was said and done!
But…
But despite that, he couldn’t bring himself to throw away that little slip of paper with Iris’s address on it. He supposed… once he earned it… he would like to have some friends here in England. And 221B Baker Street definitely wasn’t a bad place to start. He placed the slip of paper on the top of his coffee table, figuring he would drop by once he was someone worth their company.