成歩堂 龍ノ介 (Ryūnosuke Naruhodō) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
locumstudentesquire) wrote2022-09-15 09:42 pm
locumstudentesquire) wrote2022-09-15 09:42 pmGEN. OPEN POST
At some point I'll put some kind of fancy graphic here :T
locumstudentesquire) wrote2022-09-15 09:42 pm
AT Date Night continuation (for Archer)
Ryunosuke doesn't take his eyes off of him; his jaw is set, every muscle tensed, both hands tight on his crossbow as he stares the Kenoma down on his approach. He's not sure what's going to happen when the distance is closed, but he doesn't budge... Even as every crash from each shattered pillar sends another tremor through his heart
He's still braced to fight for his life, for this to turn into a horrible bloody and violent clash, up until Kaeya asks that question. And it's that which takes some of the wind out of his sails. He looks into the other man's eyes, at his horribly still aura; remembers the mirthless laugh he'd let out just before after having his misery called out... And it's devastating.
Some of the tension goes out of shoulders, a look of immense, fathomless pain passing over his features for a moment. He's not even sure why, why this is the thing that's bringing him to such an emotional crossroads. It's not like he knows Kaeya very well, on a personal level. It's not like Kaeya was ever especially kind to him, either... Quite the opposite, really.
"...I don't know," he says honestly, his ears drooping back slightly. "I... Even if we are supposed to be enemies..."
For a moment, his expression is nakedly confused, and sad, and sympathetic. But then every bit as quickly, that expression hardens; a righteous anger starts to boil inside him once more. The tip of his tail flicks, just once, angrily.
"...I just don't think you deserve to suffer like this. You don't deserve to have to fight through that alone... No one does."
eyy 👈👈
As he rewinds the past few moments in his mind, the entire sequence plays out in a span of seconds. It's evening. The fog is particularly bad tonight, which makes it the perfect happenstance for him to walk the streets as he wants for once, as he otherwise attracts so much attention in this ridiculous getup Stronghart forces him to wear. (Most likely part of the point.) There was a man walking ahead of him, the silhouette of his back somehow significant for how ordinary it is; he'd found his gaze following the man without really meaning to. And then a couple of shadows had emerged from the alleyway in front of them both, clear menace in their postures. The telltale signs of an impending mugging.
It was somehow the easiest, most natural thing in the world to simply stride up beside the man and flash an inch of his blade from where it rests in the sheathe at his hip. The sabre feels wrong in his hands, somehow, the wrong shape and weight, but the motion is almost mechanical. And a glimpse of live steel is all it takes for the would-be thugs to decide their energies are better spent elsewhere; apparently, they hadn't been armed themselves. Small mercies.
That was very stupid, he tells himself again as he glumly re-sheathes his sabre. That could have easily turned violent instead, which would jeopardise his entire position here, and for--what? He turns back to look at the man he'd saved without even thinking, and isn't sure what to feel. The man's short. Nervous-seeming disposition. Foreign--interesting. Staring at him in what looks like wordless shock, for some reason, but he's probably just still reeling from almost having been attacked.
He shouldn't mean anything. He doesn't. And the longer he lingers here, the more likely things will go very poorly for him, and so he needs to leave. All he can offer the man is a sharp, silent nod of acknowledgment, and then he turns onto his heel toward the alleyway.]
EYYYYY 👉👉
The thing is, he's been increasingly restless these days. Ever since his suspension he's been studying hard, making the best use of the unexpected downtime that he can, but... Its been several months now, and with each passing day, he finds himself missing court more and more.
Rather ironic, considering less than a year ago he was emphatically telling Kazuma that he never wanted to set foot in a courtroom again.
Now he's aching for it, but he's cut off until Lord Stronghart sees fit to end his punishment. Until then, all he can do is wait, and throw himself at his studies. While he knows the suspension is really only fair, considering the gravity of the mistakes he'd made, he can't help but frustratedly lament that he's reaching the limits of what he can get out studying from books, versus practical on the job experience.
It all leaves him feeling very pent up, which is why he's taken to these late night wanderings, requiring some kind of physical outlet that doesn't involve pacing a hole in the office floor. He finds himself getting far too deep in his own head otherwise, and it's easier for him to avoid lingering on his past mistakes if he's able to physically get out and put one foot in front of the other.
Of course, muggers are a known threat which he tries to keep vigilant for whenever he goes out, but his experiences on these jaunts have been blessedly devoid of them until tonight. More common for him to get stopped by police officers for walking around with a foreign looking sword at his belt. He figures the sight of the very same sword probably keeps any would-be thugs at bay; no way to tell at a glance that he has no clue how to actually use it. Appearances make an effective enough smokescreen.
...This is the first time that gambit has failed him. And now, being approached by a bunch of malicious looking thugs, he finds his hand hovering, trembling, just above the hilt of the katana. These men have called his bluff, and now he's having to contend with the idea of actually using the sword in self defense... something that is at complete odds with both his own nature, and what the sword represents to him.
In his eyes, Karuma's first function isn't as a weapon; it's Kazuma's soul, the best connection he still has to his dearest departed friend. And while there might be a certain poetry in Kazuma's spirit saving him from this threat, the fact remains that the blade would be near useless in Ryunosuke's hands. If he tries, he'd be just as likely to be overpowered, and even have the sword taken from him. But, does he really have a choice...?
Suddenly, a presence at his side. Ryunosuke's heart skips just a beat, glancing over at the new arrival with bewilderment. And when he does, that's when he swears his heart very nearly stops.
All those times that they spent side by side... In class, at meals, and-- just that once-- in court... Ryunosuke never could forget the distinct profile his friend's handsome features would cut. And now, even when he can only see half of them...
...He must be crazy. That's what he first tells himself, after the muggers run off, and the two of them are left to stare each other down. The man he knew is gone, and the sword at Ryunosuke's side is the only thing that remains of him. Painful as it was, he'd accepted that; he'd taken his memories of Kazuma Asogi and he'd enshrined them within his heart, installed them as a beacon to cast a guiding light by which he'd live his life from then on. And now, after Ryunosuke had thought he'd set the worst of his grief aside, here arrives a spectre to rip the wound open again.
It's just wishful thinking. He was thinking about Kazuma when he was thinking about using the sword, and that's why he's drawing the comparison between the two of them now, surely. And yet... The longer he stares, the harder it is to convince himself that he's just imagining things. He can't put his finger on why--
Before Ryunosuke can piece anything else together, the mysterious figure nods, and then makes to leave. Ryunosuke's heart leaps, and before he can stop himself he's shouting out:]
Wha-- Wait--! Just a moment, please!
[He doesn't dare grab for the man's hand lest his instincts be wrong and he accost a total stranger, but. If the strange man doesn't stop, Ryunosuke WILL be following him down that alley.]
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He has no idea of the unseen turmoil being experienced, of course. As far as he's concerned, the man just wants to thank him--something that both is unnecessary and would take more time than he can afford to waste getting out of here. Better to just act as if the whole thing never happened.
The man will have to scramble to catch up: he's aiming to exit the scene as quickly as possible.]
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Far louder than logic, though, is the part of him that's downright terrified of letting the man get away. Terrified of how much it will surely haunt him, if he doesn't at least check. No matter how foolish the hope may be... He just has to be certain. He has to know. Not knowing would be far more painful to suffer than any embarrassment derived from a case of mistaken identity.
He's approaching the far end of the alley, scarcely slowing despite Ryunosuke's repeated flustered protests in English; if he turns the corner, Ryunosuke's sure he'll lose him. Desperate, he calls out one more time... But this time, his tongue reaches automatically for the more familiar syllables of Japanese, the words tumbling from his lips in a panicked rush:]
Please, wait--! Don't leave, not without... Not without letting me at least see your face! Kazuma!
[He winces internally. If it IS a complete stranger under there... Hopefully they don't speak Japanese. That way they'll at least be spared hearing how insane the demand he just made sounds.]
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He's wearing a mask, just as Stronghart ordered. There's no way this man can know that he's Japanese--as far as he assumes, given that he's fluent in the language--and yet he did.
How? Why? How did he find out? What else does he know? Could they actually know each other? He doesn't believe in fate, but could this be what has been calling him to London the whole time? It can't possibly be coincidence, can it, that this stranger would have a name to call him and the right language to do it in?
He stands there with the gears of his mind turning long enough for Ryunosuke to catch up if he tries, but it's a moot point, because he's already made a decision as he turns back around to him.
He doesn't give Ryunosuke time to say anything else--as soon as the man is in reach, he grasps him by the forearms, strong enough to bruise, and turns him so that his back is pressed up against the alleyway wall. No point in preventing him from running, when Ryunosuke s the one who pursued him to start with, but he's suddenly caught by a wild desperation. He needs answers.
When he speaks, he answers in Japanese as well, his own voice hoarse from disuse to his ears.]
No one can know I'm speaking with you. Understand?
[He squeezes Ryunosuke's arms again in warning, trying to make eye contact somehow through the mask. He needs the man to understand how important this is.]
I need you to swear it to me.
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Suddenly, he's being grabbed, and a short yelp jumps out of him as he's wheeled around and shoved against the wall. The sudden shift in the intensity of the situation is enough to send a chill up his spine, but even more jarring than that... Well. Even through the rust of disuse, even though he hasn't heard it in months, and was convinced he never would hear it again... There's just no mistaking the sound of that voice.
All at once, Ryunosuke is swept up in a cascade of emotions, his mind reeling to try and make sense of everything. He almost doesn't even register Kazuma's demand at first, his main reaction being to boggle wordlessly, his eyes blown huge with shock and alarm. It's really him! It's really Kazuma, it MUST be, but how--?
...And why is he immediately swearing him to silence?
It really doesn't make sense. But even with a million questions and clashing emotions burning Ryunosuke alive from the inside, staring into his old partner's eyes again makes the promise come all too easily...]
A-alright! I mean, it's alright--! I. I promise...
[He's still spooked, and confused, and amazed, but his expression is gravely serious. There's no one in the world he trusts more implicitly than Kazuma. If he's this concerned about people knowing he's still alive, well... He must have his reasons, surely.]
...But in exchange, do you think you could, uh. Please. Stop trying to crush my arms...?
[He's continuing to speak Japanese, and will continue to do so unless prompted otherwise.]
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He huffs out a breath as he crosses his arms, looking the man over again, willing the sight of him to dislodge some stubborn, dusty fragment of memory. If they know each other, then surely the man must mean something to him. But nothing occurs to him. Only the faint familiarity that's been itching at his skull since the start of their encounter, and nothing else.
Of course there isn't. He could never be so lucky, could he? He grits his teeth and shakes his head, like he can physically shake off the wishful sentiment before it can take root. He doesn't have time to daydream about what-ifs; if they do know each other, then he has more practical questions to ask.]
Who are you and how did you know I speak Japanese?
[It's somewhere to start, anyway.]
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Things are just continuing to not make sense. Ryunosuke might logic his way through to a proper conclusion more easily if he weren't so riled up emotionally... Alas, between the adrenaline of nearly getting mugged just now, and now the extreme ups and downs of... Whatever is happening here...
He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself a bit before answering. Steady, Ryunosuke...]
I... I suppose I didn't know if you did or not. Not for certain anyway... You just reminded me so strongly of a dear friend of mine, I... I needed to know... [He pauses, shaking his head lightly.] But you wouldn't stop, so, so in the moment I thought to myself, 'if I say something in Japanese, he's bound to react in different ways to that, depending on whether he understands me or not'.
[Ryunosuke trails off with a frown, still carefully studying the masked man's face; decorum forgotten, he cocks his head slightly, almost as if he's trying to peer up under the mask.]
Is it you under there...? Kazuma...?
[...Okay he definitely meant to think that last question to himself, and not ask it aloud, but. This is just how he is, unfortunately.]
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He can't afford to be any more reckless. His gaze flicks away, so he doesn't have to see the disappointment he expects to be on the man's face.]
I don't know that name and I've never seen you before.
[It's not even a lie, strictly speaking, though it means much less when his own memory only spans nine months. Still, without admitting that he doesn't remember hardly much of anything, it's clear what he's trying to imply to this man.
But he can't leave it there, either. Not when this is the only real lead he's found since he woke up in Hong Kong without even a name. It's probably cruel, to keep demanding information after intentionally dashing the poor man's hopes, but the desperation in his heart is only growing wilder the longer he lives like a ghost in this strange city.
He grips the hilt of his sword tightly, to hide the way his hands are trembling.]
What happened to your friend? What made you think I was him?
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From Ryunosuke's perspective, that's the first and most striking thing, hearing the masked man deny any kind of connection between the two of them. After getting his hopes up, it should be devastating to hear that this is just a mere case of mistaken identity... Right...?
Instead, those words, they just feel... Factually incorrect. Ryunosuke can't put a finger on why at first, he only knows that they jar with him in a very specific way. Like he's hearing someone speak what they think is the truth, when in actuality they're neither lying, nor are they correct...
That contradiction, the incongruity between what the man says and what Ryunosuke feels... He comes to a realization: somewhere in the furthest depths of his heart, he must already be convinced, at least on some level. Regardless of what the man himself may claim, this has to be Kazuma. His voice, his height, the parts of his face that aren't covered up by the hood or mask... Yes, it should be an impossibility, and yes, it defies the very truth that Ryunosuke thought that he knew! But... All the proof to the contrary: it's right here in front of him.
He just... He can't be absolutely certain. Not without seeing his entire face.
Pain doesn't actually show in Ryunosuke's expression until he's asked about what happened, at which point he sinks a little, casting his eyes down and off to one side. He's quiet for a long moment; unconsciously, one nervous hand brushes past his hip and reaches for Karuma, not to grip the hilt but to instead lightly brush his thumb over the red hachimaki that's tied around the sheathe.]
He... Died. In an accident. [Ryunosuke speaks rather softly at first, his words clipped. But he quickly finds his voice again, once his gaze flicks back to the other man's face.] At least, that's what we were told! But, I look at you and-- your height, your build, your voice--
[...His lips, Ryunosuke realizes abruptly, causing him to break off in the middle of his impassioned tirade. Good grief... Is that what tipped him off...!? Heavens know he'd spent enough time thinking about them in the past. Now he hopes to all the gods that it's too dark in this alley for the treacherous blush that's creeping across his cheeks to be visible.]
points and laughs at ryunosuke. haha gay
He also wants that. He wants to be the Kazuma that this man wants back so desperately, to be someone who warrants the kind of feeling Ryunosuke seems to have. Someone worthy. But he can't afford to risk all the progress he's made, clawing his way inch by inch, on hopes. Not after what it took to get him here. Not until he knows for sure.
(The man has a sword, too. Is it wishful thinking that something flutters in his heart at the sight of it?)]
How did he die? [No, there's a more important question--] When did he die?
don't bully him !!! 😩
He remembers it all, of course. Far too clearly. The medical examiner's report, the tape outline on the floor, the damned bed post that he'd find himself looking towards at least once a day for the entire remainder of their journey...
...The timing, he provides without missing a single beat. Because of course he could never forget a date of such significance.]
...January the ninth. About nine months ago. [He's watching the masked man closely for any kind of recognition.] We were journeying here to Britain aboard a steamship, about two weeks out from our departure.
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The timing is--it's perfect. He has no idea how long he was unconscious before he woke up, nor the exact date that he did, but he knows for sure it was mid-January. The similarities are simply too much: his physical resemblance, the timing of this Kazuma's death, his own memory loss.
It can't be coincidence. But the problem is: if he confirms Ryunosuke's suspicions, then there is no telling what he will do with the information. He doesn't know for sure what their relationship was. Even if he's as well-meaning as he acts, if he goes to the authorities--Stronghart could find out. And then it will all be over.
But at the same time... He can't let this lead get away. Ryunosuke is his only source of information about himself. How to keep him at arm's length, while still having him close enough to answer questions?
He covers his mouth with a shaking hand as his mind races. If nothing else, he needs to know how to find the man again.]
What's your name? [He's sure he can figure out the rest.]
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More convinced than ever that this MUST be Kazuma, it's hard for him to remain collected. The evidence is mounting, emotions are swelling, but without seeing the man's face...
It's a matter of self preservation. After all the pain he's gone through, all the mourning he's done... He refuses to allow himself to truly believe it until he knows with complete certainty. Otherwise... He might well wind up mourning Kazuma all over again.
He stammers out his own name, fighting to keep himself in check:]
N... Naruhodo! Ryunosuke Naruhodo... And you...!
[Kazuma Asogi. Somehow, miraculously, it must be.]
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You're--?!
[He has ears, of course, and Stronghart and van Zieks both seem comfortable discussing work in front of him on occasion. Ryunosuke Naruhodo, the surprisingly capable legal exchange student, was a not uncommon topic of conversation, though not one they have lingered on long enough for him to glean any information more useful than a name.
The coincidences just keep piling up tonight, it seems. He shakes himself. Naruhodo is still looking at him expectantly, and he can't give him the name he wants. He can't give him any name.]
I'll find you. [After he's had time to regroup and think over his strategy. It will even be easier than expected, with Naruhodo already having some connection with the prosecutor's office. Funny that.
But for now, he's wasted enough time here, and he doesn't want to give Naruhodo any more room to ask questions he can't answer. He turns to leave the alleyway right then and there, intending to escape before Naruhodo can even think to protest.]
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Eh--? H-hey, wait just a second--
[Alarmed, he starts to make a reflexive grab for the man's hand. It's partway through the motion that he realizes what a bad idea that probably is, his hand stuttering to a pause, half outstretched, as the strange man who almost-definitely-is-but-also-maybe-isn't Kazuma makes a swift exit.
He could give chase. He could demand answers. Hell, he wants to do both of those things; he's harboring enough confusion and distress on the matter that he's certain he's going to be awake long into the night trying to sort everything out... To say nothing of the lingering questions he has.
But as Ryunosuke watches the trailing end of the man's coat whisk around the corner and out of sight, he tries to settle himself around one thought: if that really was Kazuma, then... Well, it's only right that Ryunosuke uphold his faith in the bond of trust that exists between them. Right? Because that connection must still be there, no matter how worryingly strange and different Kazuma's behavior may have seemed. Ryunosuke just has to trust in his friend. Trust that answers will come when the time is right.]
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He spends the next few days with his heart in his throat, waiting to see what Naruhodo does, dreading hearing that Stronghart has summoned him. It's enough that even van Zieks asks after his health, at which point he realizes he really needs to get a grip; fussing over what he can't control is hardly doing him any good. As long as Naruhodo says nothing--and it seems he will not--the real question becomes: Does Naruhodo know what he wants to do here?
What were they to each other? Could he possibly have trusted Naruhodo enough to have told him his mission? Could he have trusted anyone that much?
Probably not. At the very least it's not a gamble he can take yet. And so he settles into a restless sort of equilibrium for a day or so, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it comes in the form of running into Naruhodo at Stronghart's office.
They don't exchange words. They hardly even exchange glances, making eye contact only long enough for him to know Naruhodo definitely saw him, before he resolutely refuses to look at Naruhodo further until he and van Zieks have swept out of the building entirely.
Van Zieks, mercifully, does not question it when he requests to be excused from his duties early. (He chooses not to dwell on how van Zieks has always treated him with true respect, despite how very easily the man could abuse the power he holds over him. It galls him to feel gratitude toward someone for simply not taking advantage of the ways they could exploit him, but this is the position he finds himself in these days.) He's able to double back soon enough that it's possible Naruhodo will still be in his meeting with Stronghart, or near enough in the general area--
There. As he skirts through the alleyways on the way back to the clock tower, he sees Naruhodo walking his way down one of the well-lit main streets--apparently he's learned. (Good.) Unfortunately, it doesn't help much when there's still nobody around to witness anything, and it's easy enough for him to slip into a side street ahead of Naruhodo's path and wait--a situation he's aware feels eerily similar to the one Naruhodo had already found himself in just days ago.
He says a silent apology for doing this to the man again, and then at the right time, steps up to Naruhodo from behind. One hand claps over his mouth and the other grabs onto his arm as he pulls Naruhodo back into the alleyway.
At least, he wastes no time in hissing into Naruhodo's ear:]
Be quiet. It's me.
[...He'll wait until he's sure Naruhodo won't struggle before he releases him, though.]
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Somehow, he manages to get through his meeting with Lord Stronghart without any questions being raised on the matter of his behavior. Thank goodness for that, because facing the Lord Chief Justice without Susato-san around to handle the conversational pleasantries and translate Ryunosuke's stammering for him is stressful enough as is... To say nothing of the fact that the man holds Ryunosuke's future and career in one finely gloved hand...
Sadly he has less progress to show for his study efforts than usual, mostly owing to how his thoughts the last few days have been consumed by that late night encounter, turning it over in his head. It's one thing to tell himself that he'll just have to trust Kazuma and be patient for answers, but it's another to live day to day with the uncertainty, oscillating wildly between hope and disbelief, wondering if he might have just imagined the whole thing somehow.
Well... Now he knows for sure that he didn't. But seeing Lord van Zieks, of all people, in such company... That's certainly a surprise. Ryunosuke isn't sure what to make of that whole arrangement yet, but it is at least a relief to know that he has some means of contacting the man, should he ever need to...
...Actually, no. That's a chilling thought. Wouldn't that require calling upon Lord van Zieks outside of court? Yikes.
He's walking down the street thinking this over (sufficiently distracted from his bad habit of post-Stronghart bric-a-brac purchasing, for once), when he does start to get the eerie sense that he's being... Watched. After his encounter with those thugs the other night he's suitably more leery about being alone after dark, but he can't actually see anyone in the vicinity--]
MMMPHH--!
[It's a good thing he speaks up as quick as he does, the urgent demand for quiet in that familiar voice prompting Ryunosuke to break off his alarmed protests with a confused squeak. He stops trying to squirm to free, but he does still try to twist to catch the other man's eye with a meaningful look. His eyes are wild, blown wide open, his nostrils flared; he seems to be asking, what the hell, man?!]
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He still doesn't apologize, though. At least not yet. He has more important concerns first.
...Or, at least, he's opening his mouth to voice them...]
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Wh... What on Earth was that for!? You couldn't have just tried signaling and beckoned me down here like a normal person might do? You nearly gave me a heart attack just now!
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He... probably should have done that. It would have been smarter, among other things.
Rather than resume his previous interrogation, he offers a short but solemn bow from the waist, at just the right angle to convey that his contrition is sincere.]
You're right. I apologize for approaching you this way. I needed to be discreet.
[He'll let Ryunosuke say the rest of his piece, whatever it might be, before he tries to rerail the conversation.]
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It's... [He sighs.] It's alright, just... Bear it in mind next time. Please.
[For the sake of his poor little mousey heart. HE'S A VERY NERVOUS MAN.]
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He can be less harsh, at the very least. He owes Naruhodo that much. He takes one more moment to breathe out another sigh before he finally looks up to meet Ryunosuke's eyes.]
Did you say anything to Stronghart?
[At least, his voice now is the calmest it's been yet.]
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AU shenans For Taisa