Work Text:
There was a bitter coldness to this place, unnatural and haunting. Kazuma felt as if he could hear his own heartbeat, feel the blood pumping all through his body. He didn’t mind the cold, usually, but this one was aggressive, draining the heat from his fingertips, leaving them permanently frozen no matter how he tried to clasp his hands together to warm them. So, he’d stopped trying a while back – this was no time to fidget when he was almost there. His boots made a crisp sound on the cobblestone floor, echoed by another, a safe distance behind him, but he paid that no mind. He focused on finding his destination…and on his even breaths. He was calm; level-headed and in control. Though, inevitably, he knew that at least one of those wouldn’t last. And that was fine. It’d be fine.
Close, now. No more time to think. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate as the cell came into view. It seemed…hardly uncomfortable, large and adequately furnished with a decently large bed, a wooden table and chair, even a small bookshelf filled with reading material. Of course, despite everything, this person still managed to pull a few small favours such as these. And there he sat at the nice little table, next to the flickering glow of a reading light, immersed in a book. Kazuma made sure his back was straight before he opened his mouth.
“You’re quite well off even now, aren’t you? Jigoku Seishirou.”
The large man looked up from the page, almost lazily. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other silently for a short moment…before Jigoku smiled his usual smile. Cheerful and unassuming, laughter lines creased, as if nothing bad had ever happened.
“Oh, my! Look who it is. I was wondering when you’d finally show your face here after all my requests.”
“I am not here upon your request,” Kazuma shot back. “I simply decided I needed to have a word with you, after all. Before you were transferred.” Jigoku’s booming laugh was also the same as ever. But something about it made Kazuma need to suppress a shudder. The prisoner flicked his book closed and got up, ambling closer to the bars.
“Of course, whatever you say. So you’ve heard about my transfer, huh? Well informed as always, Asougi Kazuma. Though, lacking in those pleasant manners you used to have. Not even a Jigoku-san anymore, hm?” Kazuma crossed his arms, leering.
“Why would you request to meet me in the first place?” he questioned, completely ignoring the man’s prodding. Jigoku raised an eyebrow.
“Why? It’s quite simple. Who else on this cold island country would there be for me to converse with? It gets lonely with no one but some books to keep me company. So, I decided I’d even settle for a nice chat or two with my little traitor.” His smile was still the same, as was his tone. But…Kazuma could feel the anger – so intense that it made his hair stand on end. Even so, there was no way in hell he’d let it intimidate him.
“How pitiful,” he answered coldly.
“No thanks to you,” Jigoku fired back readily. “But let’s keep this civil, shall we? I’d hate to have such a rare conversation devolve so quickly.”
Not as if you were contributing to that as well, Kazuma thought, but grudgingly held his tongue as the prisoner continued.
“So, you have something you’d like to discuss with me…well, I heard the news soon after. You uncovered the full truth, didn’t you? In all honesty, I’m impressed.”
“You could have simplified things back then by telling your side when we prompted you.”
“Now that all the secrets are out, I can! Safely. I suppose I ought to be grateful for that much?”
“Even at your lowest, you had such fears…it was nothing short of cowardly,” Kazuma snapped. That seemed to strike a nerve. Jigoku’s easygoing expression dropped, making way for an impatient annoyance as he idly stroked his beard.
“You may think you know politics, Asougi, but you do not understand them. You fail to grasp the complexity of it all – what it is like to live it. I’d hoped to teach you, one day. Though, now that will never come to fruition.” Teach him? One day? Kazuma just barely held himself back from shooting a pointless retort. It’d be childish, and it’d carry the conversation nowhere. He had to stay calm, stay focused.
“So then, that’s also the reason why you kept the truth from me since the very beginning? That it was you. You…shot my father. You made that decision.” Those words made Jigoku falter – the crease in the man’s brow softened. He stared at Kazuma with something that resembled remorse. Though it seemed he could only bear the eye contact for a moment, soon averting his eyes with a grimace.
“Your father…he was a dear friend. What I did that night still haunts me to this day. You must understand that – I never intended to do it. My hand was forced. It did not feel…real. Even days after, I remained in disbelief.”
These words were genuine. The truth and sincerity of them screamed out to Kazuma, begging him to understand. This man had pride, dignity. He was no cold-blooded murderer. His hand was always forced – it was that way with Inspector Gregson as well, merely self-defence. Jigoku never wished for blood.
…Well, Kazuma hardly fell for that. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
“You feared for yourself. Your own reputation, above all else. Despite your regrets…you still pulled the trigger. Your priorities were well decided.” At those words, Jigoku glared. His face darkened, gaze utterly piercing.
“Tch, is it not human nature to prioritise your own life and future above all else?! Would you truly condemn me as a monster for that, Asougi? It was a tragedy to me as well. A horrible event that has weighed down on me for ten long years. And that man…he’d never allow me to live without the fear that one day, he’d let me take the fall. He’d expose what I’d done and throw me to the dogs. As if you could ever know how that feels – having that threat hanging over your head for the rest of your life.”
Genuine words, again. And, perhaps, Kazuma did understand. He knew Jigoku meant it. The years that he’d followed this man, all this time that he endured, allowed this powerful judge to walk all over him…Kazuma knew him. He knew how Jigoku operated, how his mind worked. His charms, his woes. His admirable strengths, his pitiful weaknesses. And looking at him now, all Kazuma could feel…was disgust.
“If you were a better man…you’d’ve let him.”
“What did you say…?” Jigoku’s glare turned dangerous, but Kazuma stared back with matching vitriol.
“You heard me. You act as if you had no other choice, but I couldn’t see a more barefaced lie.” He stepped closer to the bars, feeling a venomous righteousness welling up in his chest. “You chose your allegiance from the very beginning. You chose to shoot my father. You chose to hide the truth from me, all these years!!”
Jigoku grabbed the cell bars, roughly – the clatter echoed harshly through the prison, and it took everything in Kazuma not to flinch.
“You ungrateful little–!!” The man stopped himself, teeth clenched. “How would I have told you? What could you have done about it? It would’ve solved nothing. Only brought you more grief. Why can’t you understand that? I was protecting you!!”
“No. Professor Mikotoba was protecting me. But you… you delighted in exploiting me for your own convenience.” The words poured out – ones that he’d long contained, bottled up for years. “All my pain, my desperation – it was only a weapon for you to use. You were the murderer I’d been chasing, standing right in front of me all my life. You knew exactly what you were doing when you named me as your assassin. You sent me on a hunt that was all but hopeless to return from. You’ve never given a shit about me.”
Jigoku’s face was red with rage. The bars rattled with how tightly he gripped them – it almost seemed like his large hands could make an imprint in the metal. Kazuma was half expecting to see that when he eventually let go. But then…suddenly, he relaxed. His grip slackened, as he dipped his head.
“Is that…truly what you think? How could you…Kazuma?”
“Don’t.” Kazuma hissed, tensing up. “It’s no use trying to appeal to me. I’ve known from the start what kind of man you are, Jigoku Seishirou.”
“From the start…? You don’t know anything …you deluded boy.” Jigoku raised his head slowly, once again meeting Kazuma’s eyes. His expression was…pained, mournful. It was such a soulful face, that for the first time, Kazuma faltered. “Who held you when you were little…? Bought you gifts, took you on little escapades, trained with you? I’ve always cared. When you had any problem, any inquiry, I’ve always been there to help you. Always, without fail, I’d made time to listen. Have you truly forgotten it all?”
Isn’t that true? Wasn’t he always there? Small, kind gestures that surprised you every now and then. Genuine warmth coming from his smile. That booming laugh that one could feel within their chest when they heard it. No. Kazuma knew what he was doing, right now. He knew, but…but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“You remember now, do you? All I’d sacrificed for you. The trust I poured in you. And I sincerely trusted you. I really thought you were meant to do incredible things. The prospect that one day, I’d see you become something great…” Jigoku chuckled softly, wistfully. “I truly looked forward to it. But…
“…It was all a lie , was it?”
The frightening, searing rage in his voice caught Kazuma completely off-guard. Too late to react. Too entranced by his unassuming song. A long, powerful arm lunged out between the bars. Almost too big for the gap, muscles grazing the metal – but Jigoku was determined, completely oblivious to the pain as he reached out to where Kazuma thought was a safe distance.
He gasped as he felt the hand dig into his throat, dragging him forth. Until he was inches away from Jigoku, with only the bars to keep the gap. Face to face with this raging bull.
“You disgusting little snake. After all I did for you, you repay me with eternal damnation. Who’s the real monster here?! You heartless traitor!! You would have perished in this world without me!! You would have been NOTHING without me!!!”
Kazuma struggled weakly, trying to pull away as the man’s deep roar rang in his ears. The grip was too strong, fingernails digging harshly into the sides of his neck. He couldn’t pull away…no, he didn’t want to pull away. It was hardly a chokehold. Jigoku wasn’t harming him. This hand could snap his neck in an instant if it really wanted to…but it didn’t. This was…a display. A display of mercy and a threat, all at once. The venomous look in Jigoku’s eyes made it clear. He was daring him to pull away. Just try it…see what happens.
Strong. This man was too strong. A giant that could move mountains…for the longest time growing up, that was what Kazuma pictured when he thought of Jigoku. There was a time, buried far in the past, where he had nothing but feelings of admiration for the man. He was one to be looked up to. He could do no wrong. He was someone you could surrender everything to. He’d protect you. He’d hold you safely under his massive wing…and never let you go.
Never.
Kazuma stopped struggling. Growing limp, helpless in Jigoku’s grip. And the silent response – Jigoku’s eyes lighting up in delight, his triumphant sneer – was burned into his mind.
Suddenly, a new hand closed around the prisoner’s wrist.
“…Release him.”
English words. Quiet, but demanding. Barok van Zieks stepped between them, squeezing Jigoku’s arm hard as he leered. The ex-judge blinked, expression growing blank. He did as he was told, without protest. And Kazuma stumbled back, learning how to breathe again.
“Lord van Zieks. What a surprise!” Jigoku was back to his normal self again, smiling pleasantly as he retracted his arm back into his cell and took a calm step back. “You were standing by, hm? If I’d known, I’d have switched our pleasant little conversation to English for you.”
“This meeting is concluded,” Barok answered plainly. Jigoku held his hands up disarmingly, nodding. He seemed satisfied, grinning toward Kazuma.
“Indeed, it seems like it has. It was a pleasure seeing you both.”
Covering his throat, chest heaving…Kazuma felt sick to the stomach. His body moved on its own – he turned sharply, walking away. But of course he could never move fast enough to escape the sound of Jigoku’s booming, bitter laugh.
“Hah hah hah hah hah!! That’s right, run along. You little coward!”
Kazuma was far enough to not be able to make out what Barok said in response, but not too far to fail to catch the sound of his voice. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop trembling. But he managed to keep his legs from giving in as he walked. Briskly. Out of the prison. Past all the rest of the prisoners, the wardens giving him strange looks, jovial, clueless conversations coming from the offices. He heard his name being called, behind him. Long strides, trying to catch up to him. It only made him walk faster.
He burst through the front doors of Barclay Prison, met with the chill of open air. It reeked like a swamp, but he choked the breaths down, as if he’d been holding it for years. He had mere seconds to himself, he knew, before the doors flew open behind him. He felt wretched, bile rising in his throat, his head throbbing. Why couldn’t he be left alone? He wanted to be alone. He wanted to disappear. He wanted—
“Asougi.”
Snarling, he whipped around, ripping his hand through the air to slap anything that dared to come near him. Barok stepped back, easily avoiding it.
“I thought I told you not to interfere,” he hissed, with all the malice in his corroding soul. His teacher’s expression was unreadable to most, but it was crystal clear to him – Barok was hesitating, cautiously reaching for the right words. Silence set in, for a second that felt far too long.
“…This was not a failure.”
The words sunk in, like a needle into flesh. And…Kazuma couldn’t help it. He laughed. Loudly, soullessly, hating his own voice, how much it sounded like him.
“You’re fucking mental. What do you know?!”
“There was nothing to fail. No test to pass. Do not let him make you think that there was.”
“Shut up!! Leave me alone. This doesn’t concern you. It never did.”
“He cannot harm you anymore.”
Kazuma was taken aback by that one. What? Did this man not see what just happened!? Ah, wait. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t understand a word that was said. How stupid. How utterly clueless.
“You don’t know anything,” he jeered. No one knew. No one could understand how much he was suffocating. He was all alone, once again. Only that disgusting, loathsome man understood. That power-hungry, vile, strong, inspiring uncle of his—
He felt something cold drip from his chin, and froze. How long……how long had he been crying for? He reached up, brushing his fingertips against his cheek…it burned. His tears burned, like acid. He felt nauseated. As if something dreadful was about to come over him, something he would never be able to withstand. Just like Jigoku’s grip on him. Nothing. Nothing was hurting him, and yet…he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. He wished it would all just stop. Everything…
Maybe he could just die.
Maybe he should just fucking kill himself.
His throat hurt. Was it because he cried out? Was it because he was screaming? He had no control over himself, and yet he had perfect control all the same, staring at the side of the prison building as it grew closer, balling up his left fist. How many punches could he get in, before his meddling teacher interfered? One? Two? …Just two. He made them count, feeling his bones grind, his flesh tear against the unforgiving stone. Barok sounded alarmed, almost fearful. Good. Great. The small pools of blood swelling from his shredded hand were so satisfying to see. It was almost enough for him. But alas, he was being restrained now. He fought against Barok’s grip as his teacher hauled him away from the wall. Maybe he’d punch this man next. Maybe he could make him hate him. Maybe then he could finally be alone again, as he deserved. Protected by no one. Used by no one. Loved by no one. Hurt by no one.
Having no one who’d care if he disappeared.
But then…he stopped. He couldn’t struggle anymore. Why? It was…warm. An arm firmly wrapped around his shoulders. His face was buried against Barok’s collarbone. What…what in the world was his teacher doing? Embarrassing. Disgusting. It shocked Kazuma so greatly that it got him to stop. Somehow, he knew that Barok himself was shocked by what he was doing. But despite that, his teacher didn’t let go, hugging him awkwardly…but with all the care in the world.
“…Please.”
His voice was desperate. Compassionate. Nothing like that man’s, that demanded to be praised and worshipped and loved. It was, itself, confused, unsure what words to convey, but heartfelt all the same. Fearful of crossing boundaries, but knowing that this time, it had to be done. Barok’s hand rested gently against the back of Kazuma’s neck, a touch that promised never to harm, never to threaten.
“You are not a failure.”
Kazuma stood frozen, unable to move for a long moment. And then, he was unable to stop shaking. He gave up. Surrendered, for the second time that day, but willingly as he relaxed. Letting himself fall apart, wracked with sobs as he buried his face against his teacher. And Barok let him, staying patiently still as he accompanied him through his agony. Would there really be an end to this? Kazuma felt as if they’d be standing there forever. He’d never be able to pick himself back up again. This would be the last time he fell. It’d be nice if they could stay like this until he was finally allowed to disappear.
He knew full well that these were all lies. Eventually, he calmed. The tears stopped flowing – his body stilled and quieted. Still, Barok didn’t move. He waited until Kazuma himself started to pull away. Once that happened, the teacher swiftly and abruptly let go – though, not because of any sort of embarrassment as Kazuma had assumed for a split second. Barok grabbed his wrist, anxiously examining his injured hand. His teacher’s pure white gloves were stained with red here and there from the earlier struggle, though it seemed to go completely unnoticed. The blood had thickened but not yet dried. Kazuma stared at it with fascination, rubbing his sleeve against his face – though when Barok noticed that, he hurriedly pushed a handkerchief into Kazuma’s uninjured hand. Then, he soon let go of the other, gently.
“They surely have medical supplies inside. I will fetch some – stay here.”
“No need to fuss,” Kazuma sighed, but his teacher was already gone. While he remained stoic and allergic to expressing emotions for the majority of his days, Barok could suddenly become so concerned and overprotective at the strangest of times. Like a parent losing their mind over their young child. Kazuma despised it so much when he was like this.
…Yet another lie.
But anyway. There was one thing he knew for sure – he was not staying here. He felt like a domesticated animal set free from its cage for the first time in its life. Dazed, lost, unsure of where it belonged. So, somehow confident that Barok could find him easily, he wandered away. His legs seemed to know exactly where to go.
And soon, he knew as well. Right…this was his first time actually braving the prison’s interior, but he and Barok came here all the time, didn’t they? They were here right before they entered the prison, in fact, for a very important routine. Kazuma ambled past the countless numbered headstones. He knew exactly where the correct one was, even when it wasn’t marked by a bouquet of fresh flowers – one of the only ones that ever received any. As he stood in front of his father’s grave again, it was as if watching it slowly gave back his sense of normalcy, bit by bit. And, belatedly, Barok’s grounding words from earlier began to make sense to him.
That man may have thought he’d won back there, but…Kazuma had said what he’d needed to say. Words that had haunted him for so long, released like butterflies from a jar. He was free. And he’d never have to see that face again. No one could hurt him anymore. No one could control him anymore.
He wasn’t a failure.
His teacher found him easily, just as he predicted. And after they wordlessly treated his wound, they paid their respects to the grave, one last time, before departing. Just like any other normal day, life carried on.