Chapter Text
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Wake up.
Brush teeth.
Run.
Shower.
Boil water for tea.
Turn the TV on while waiting.
Eat breakfast.
Turn the TV off.
Leave for work.
That was the rhythm of it all. The same routine every morning. Something safe. Something stable. A rhythm not meant to be broken.
A rhythm that was never allowed to be broken.
Kazuha jogged up the stairs to the university. He was five minutes early. He waved to his colleagues as he passed by, pretending time was too short to stop. He hadn’t been late as a student, no need to start being late as a professor.
Students already filled the room. Kazuha took his place by the blackboard. It had been three years and he still didn’t feel used to the position. Guiding these young adults, allowing them to look up to him. It hadn’t been long since he was the one staring at the same blackboard.
Three years. Anxiety shouldn’t be a problem now. Three years was a long time and as far as routines go, he shouldn’t have the time to let his mind wander.
He knew the issue. He should have turned the TV off sooner. Seeing violent crimes always did this to him. He didn’t want to be reminded.
As the clock struck eight, Kazuha started the lesson. Talking about literature history was enough to make anyone forget their troubles. He’d prepared for a morning of discussion and hearing his student share their theories would take his mind off things. It even brought a smile to his face. In the middle of reading a section out loud from one of their many course books, the door to the classroom opened. It caught Kazuha’s attention and his voice faltered, not finishing his sentence.
Students, noticing the shift in Kazuha’s reading, turned their heads too. Everyone was equally confused concerning who had interrupted their class. There were still thirty minutes to go after all.
Kazuha cleared his throat but remained silent. He flipped through the remaining pages of the book before remembering the students weren’t required to own this piece of literature. The room had shrunk with the visitor's arrival. The walls had crept closer. Taking a deep breath he opened the index of the primary course book, doing his best to remain calm.
“Read pages 169 to 200 before the next class. We’ll share another discussion then, so I’ll know if you’ve done it.” The few who’d sighed as he began speaking now laughed at their misfortune. They should probably consider themselves lucky he didn’t assign them pages in the book probably he alone owned. Some students remained unconvinced as he dismissed them. Aether, one of his most motivated students came up to him.
“Professor, I’d hoped I could ask you about the essay that’s due in a few weeks.” Kazuha nodded. He’d promised earlier he would help the boy out.
“Of course, could you perhaps email the questions, and I can get some time preparing sufficient answers for you? We could also book a meeting if you’d prefer?” Kazuha proposed as he closed his books to put back in his bag. The blonde nodded. The answer seemed sufficient enough.
“Kazuha, is… everything alright?” Aether meant well but his gaze did wander to the unwanted visitor at the back of the classroom. Kazuha knew his students were attentive enough to notice.
Kazuha stopped in his motion and mustered a smile. He fought the urge to avert his eyes to their unexpected visitor. “He won’t arrest me if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kazuha answered, not sure where he found the energy to joke from. Of course, the students would have questions if someone entered their classroom with the word FBI printed on them. He did not blame them.
Heizou could have found him anytime. Now was not the time.
Slowly the student left the room. Not even as the last one left and the door closed one last time did Kazuha acknowledge the other’s presence. The agent would not have it. He walked down the stairs, stopping only to lean at the seats at the front row where he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Really? You won’t even look at me?”
“Don’t come here,” Kazuha argued, pushing his glasses up his head to push his bangs aside. He saw perfectly fine. They were to prevent headaches. He studied the agent. He hadn’t changed a day. His maroon hair was the same length. Another three years on the force had done nothing to his small build.
“It’s been three years Kazuha.” His voice was stiff. The disappointment was clear as day. “I called. If you didn’t pick up then, why would you pick up now?”
The man had a point. Had Heizou not cornered him then they wouldn’t be speaking. Kazuha had nothing to say. That life was behind him. Stubborn and he was, Kazuha refrained from answering. There was no joy in this meeting.
“You look well,” the agent continued instead, taking another approach to the matter. Kazuha wished Heizou would get to the point. Heizou wasn’t here to reminiscence about the old times and Kazuha wasn’t sure he could pretend. His chest still ached at the sight of his old friend. Just seeing him here was hard. Kazuha rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the bandaged wrist. It wasn’t a taunt, he was too warm.
“You do too,” he admitted eventually. The silence between them had been suffocating but Heizou must have known that small talk would get them nowhere.
“Why are you here?” Kazuha asked, sick of dragging it on.
Heizou kicked at the floor. He’d evidently wished to avoid such an early confrontation. “Have you seen the news lately?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“I know what you’re thinking and no, there is no connection. It’s a coincidence, nothing more.”
“A coincidence? Is that why you already knew what I wanted?”
Of course, he’d thought about it too. The recent murders had been too similar. The victims. The approach. Timing. Every little detail checked out.
“Fine. A copycat at best.”
“Come back.”
Kazuha’s eyes widened. Heizou couldn’t be serious.
“No.”
There was nothing else to it. There would be no ifs´ and buts´. Kazuha was out. He’d promised himself he’d never go back to being an agent again. Never again.
He had a new start. He stuck to routines that had made him feel fine for three years. He taught literature history at the university now. He’d shut everyone out. His new friends and colleagues never asked about what he did before he started teaching. It was no secret that he’d been with the FBI. They knew better than to ask about circumstances.
He’d done fucking everything to never go back to how it was.
Kazuha grabbed the last books into his arms, threw his bag over his shoulder, and started walking. He’d been right. There was nothing good coming from seeing Heizou again. Small talk wasn’t for them. A firm grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks.
Neither said anything. Kazuha had said everything he needed to say.
No. The answer was no.
“I get it, okay?” Heizou said eventually. Kazuha glanced at the agent through his bangs.
Did he really? Did he fully understand how he tugged on that thread Kazuha had carefully sewn to keep his past in the past? The seams were already tearing at his edges. He didn’t need this. He needed stability and perhaps a thicker thread.
“Heizou, you are the best agent the bureau has seen in ages. You don’t need me.” Kazuha tore his gaze from his old partner. His words were true. The man he strived to be today wasn’t the same one as the one Heizou worked with. The agent Kaedehara Kazuha died the day he turned his gun and badge in. He wasn’t going back. He’d promised himself never to go back. That door would remain closed.
“Let me go.”
Kazuha wanted him to let go in more ways than one. The grip on his arm. The idea of getting his old partner back. Heizou needed to let it go all. Otherwise, he would suffer in vain.
Heizou did let him go but free, Kazuha remained still. He bit his lip. He wanted to say something. Heizou had been his partner and best friend. His face hadn’t always been a reminder of terror.
Kazuha had no words. Instead, he left. He had more than one lesson today. He couldn’t afford to get stuck here.
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Kazuha wished a no would be enough.
Kazuha wished the murders would stop.
Every morning as he drank his tea, he watched new victims and crime scenes flash by on the screen.
There were a lot of victims. Multiple stab wounds to the victims, men, and women alike. Elders and children too. None could escape as a sharp blade pierced through all bodies in its way.
Maybe this would have meant nothing. Another maniac spreading terror in places where people met. Like a cafeteria or the subway. But there was always something else.
With every chaotic killing and swinging of blades with seemingly no goal, somewhere, someone got their throat cut. Usually someone of higher standing. Someone people would recognize. Bankers, politicians, and journalists. Anyone recognizable. A pillar of society as the reporters would say.
It was just like three years ago.
Kazuha couldn’t blame Heizou for finding him. Not when history slowly repeated itself.
But they couldn’t expect him to come back. Not even as a consultant.
He knew what they would ask him to do, and he couldn’t do it. They would have to find someone else.
Anyone but Kazuha.
Kazuha continued as he used to. His class was a curious one and not until he’d explained that the agent was an old friend did they settle. He needed them to focus on the material at hand. Not their teacher.
It worked.
For a while.
The remote trembled in his hand.
Another massacre. A group of children and their teacher on a school trip.
Every last one of them had their throats cut open. Twelve dead. No survivors.
The tea tasted bitter. His throat too dry to swallow.
Kazuha knew what he had to do but it hurt. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His lungs struggled for air.
He clenched his hands around the phone as he slid down to the floor. He still knew Heizou’s number by heart. Write it and call, it should be easy. Kazuha knocked his head back against the cabinets. He wanted to scream.
Going back there, even if only as a consultant, would take everything he had. He’d pulled through before, but it had been enough to leave the force. The toll on his body and mind had been too great.
Now, he had his life put together. At least a therapist would call it that. By calling Heizou he would jeopardize it all.
The reporter still spoke on the other side of the kitchen counter. Eleven dead children only this morning and there would surely be more. If history repeated itself, then there would be more.
Terrified, Kazuha put the digits on the display.
No was a selfish answer. Could Kazuha really say no when people were dying? Eventually, they would start dying around him again.
Back then, the victims had been anyone. Then the noose around Kazuha shrunk. Eventually, the victims were people Kazuha knew. People Kazuha cared about. People like his family.
He’d lost everyone last time.
With nothing left to lose, Kazuha tapped the call button.
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At eight, Kazuha passed the doors. Instead of students and colleagues, he saw police and agents. People he hadn’t considered his colleagues for a long time. Many new faces.
He didn’t like that.
“Kazuha?”
Kazuha spun around at the sound of his name. Albedo stood a few feet away, lab coat on and a coffee mug in one hand along with folders stuffed under his other arm. Neither he had changed in the years that had passed. Probably not even the ballpoint pen behind his ear.
Kazuha mustered a shy smile. Seeing Albedo wasn’t bad. It didn’t sink his heart like a stone.
Albedo had worked closely with their team back then and Kazuha wouldn’t be surprised if he still did. The most skilled in the forensic team was not to be taken lightly. He’d pinpointed more criminals with nothing but dust than Kazuha could count. Besides his skill, he was brutally honest and a skilled artist. Kazuha had always found pleasure in his company and cherished their friendship.
Albedo rolled his eyes as a familiar figure stepped into the corridor. Heizou was heading their way. Albedo seemed annoyed and for some reason, Kazuha found it reassuring.
“Are you serious?” Albedo asked as Heizou stopped next to Kazuha. “Have you really dragged him back here?”
Kazuha could speak for himself, but Heizou was quicker. Choosing to not entertain the subject any further. “We can talk about it later,” he said in order to get the forensic of his back.
“Sara wants you in her office,” he said instead, directed at Kazuha. He answered with a nod. He’d suspected he would have to face her. Heizou might have asked him to come back but Sara called the shots. At least in theory.
Heizou and Kazuha had gone off the rails too many times for anyone to count back in the days.
He knocked on her door only to be called in immediately. Busy tapping away at her computer she did not acknowledge him before he’d closed the door behind him.
As her gaze fell upon him he concluded that none had changed. Three years were clearly not enough time to change. Was that accurate for him as well?
Before he could say anything, Sara placed a badge and gun on her desk. His badge. His gun.
Kazuha fought the urge to back away. To open the door and leave. Visibly, he only shook his head.
“I know you don’t want this. Heizou told me you wished to consult only.” Sara leaned back in her chair. “I can’t have that.”
He should have known. Actually, he did know. It had been worth a try anyway. Still, he did not make a move at picking his things up.
“You will have to talk to him,” Sara continued. She could might as well have punched him where he stood. Every word in that sentence acting as a harsh blow.
“There must be someone else. I get that I can help with the case but do we really —“
“No.” Sara cut him off and Kazuha swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t speak to anyone but you and during your absence, he hasn’t spoken a word.”
“Even less reason for him to be behind this.”
“We’re not taking any chances. You will interrogate him, and you will wear that badge.”
Kazuha took a deep breath, trying to ignore how the floor threatened to swallow him whole.
“I do have a condition.”
“Name it,” Sara urged him. Kazuha suspected they would agree to just about anything for him to do this. That was why he would ask for this one thing.
“I won’t stop teaching.”
Sara pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn’t like it, but she relented.
“You are free to try.”
That was all the confirmation Kazuha needed to grab the badge and gun from her desk. She smiled as he did.
“It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s temporary,” Kazuha assured her. Even so, her smile didn’t falter. Perhaps she didn’t believe him. He feared she could see something he couldn’t.
Kazuha had loved working for the FBI, that much was true. The rush had been… addictive. At least it wasn’t something he’d find in his classroom and Kazuha had deemed it a good thing.
He was a changed man. This, he peered down at his badge, was temporary. An act of selflessness towards himself and kindness towards a friend. Perhaps he felt like he owed Heizou this.
They had gone different ways but still parted as friends. It was Kazuha who chose not to keep it that way. The one who decided to shut everyone else out. Heizou and Albedo alike.
“I’ll expect you at Serai Island tomorrow morning.”
Kazuha only nodded. He had no choice. He might as well get it over with.
Sara sighed. “I get it, Kaedehara. It won’t be easy, and we all understand how hard this is for you. We promise you won’t be alone. We’ll get through this together.”
Her words did warm, his chest far from as heavy as when he entered her private office. They had chosen to trust him with this because Kazuha was the only one who could do it. That didn’t mean they would throw him to the wolves.
They could be a team again.
Kazuha met up with Heizou again. Albedo was nowhere to be seen but Heizou made sure Kazuha knew that he did not agree with this. Despite it, he was glad to see Kazuha back with them.
Kazuha stayed with Heizou, preparing for tomorrow's visit to the island, before heading back to campus.
He needed the safety of these classrooms. Of the sound of chalk against the blackboard. Of the student’s chatter. He craved it. The comfort. The safety.
In this room, nothing could harm him.
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Heizou and Sara accompanied him to the island. To the sleeping court, the isolated prison surrounded by water. All the worst criminals were locked up here, but mostly killers. People never meant to see the daylight again. Only arranging an interrogation with someone stuck on the island was hard. FBI or not, the highest clearance was demanded.
Unfortunately for Kazuha, Sara had the authority.
“We’ll keep an eye on you all the time,” Heizou reassured as he handed over an earpiece. Kazuha, although hesitant, put it in his ear. He wouldn’t get through this without Heizou. They had gone through this a million times since Kazuha left campus yesterday. Heizou and Sara seemed confident Kazuha would be fine.
Kazuha was all but reassured. He would face one of Inazuma’s most resourceful killers. A man with more than one face and a natural talent for lies and deceit. Even worse, he only ever agreed to talk to Kazuha.
Sara had proposed not to inform the prisoner of their arrival, saying Kazuha was their ace up their sleeve. They didn’t want to lose whatever element of surprise they could muster. When dealing with The Balladeer everyone needed to be clear that everything was on the line.
The others at the agency had always been relieved that Kazuha was the one to talk to him. Kazuha, if anyone, could keep their cool around him. No matter how hard things had been back then, Kazuha stood his ground. It didn’t last forever. As The Balladeer was put behind glass for life, Kazuha broke apart.
Now, he was back again. He needed but meet him once and prove to the others that these murders weren’t his doing. Then the balladeer could continue to rot for all Kazuha cared.
The hall outside the cell was quiet. In this establishment, every prisoner was in their own secluded glass cell. They never had any interactions with anyone. Especially not with each other. Some spoke to the people in charge, therapists, or visitors if the law deemed it okay. But according to the people in charge, The Balladeer hadn’t said a word for three years. The warden wasn’t even sure the man spoke at all anymore.
Kazuha’s footsteps echoed off the wall. Even light steps could be heard here. Heizou voiced reassuring words in his ear, but Kazuha had already shut them out. The only sound he could hear was the echoing footsteps and his own violently beating heart.
He could have sworn his knees buckled beneath him as he rounded the corner making the cell visible to his eyes. That the earth had opened up beneath him and let him fall for real this time. But Kazuha stood firm. He had no other choice. If he didn’t stand tall, then who would?
Seeing him, although only his back, had been enough to take him off guard. He needed to steel himself before facing those piercing indigo eyes. Those enchanting eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Kazuha sat down on the chair behind the markings on the floor. Although the man was locked up, Kazuha was thankful for the distance. From this distance, he could keep his mask up.
The Balladeer didn’t acknowledge him. Through the cell of glass, Kazuha could see that he didn’t own much. A few books and the violin in his hands. Hand-scribbled note sheets lay here and there. In a neat bunch on the desk or in scatters across the floor.
“I knew you’d be back.”
His voice sent a rippling chill down Kazuha’s spine. A nostalgic sound. A honeyed and modulated tone although accused of not making a sound for three years. Kazuha swallowed and forced himself to keep his gaze on the man in front of him.
Kazuha’s heart jumped as The Balladeer turned. Just enough to catch Kazuha in his dangerous gaze. Kazuha breathed through his nose to try to stop himself from throwing his heart up. His muscles tightened. He wanted to tear his eyes away, get up and walk out of there. He wanted anything but this.
They both stared. Unable to tear their gaze from the other. Kazuha felt as if he stared but did not see. Without moving that calm gaze, The Balladeer put the bow to the strings of his violin and let a silent chord fill the silence created between them. After another two chords, he closed his eyes and returned to the position he’d held as Kazuha entered. He still played.
It was nothing Kazuha had heard before.
Breathe. He had to breathe. He’s turned. It’s okay, he comforted himself. Or maybe it was the voice in his ear. Kazuha wasn’t sure.
He cleared his throat, doing his best to neglect the soft tunes filling the room. The sooner he talked to him, the sooner he’d be out of here. He believed the worst part was over after all. Meeting his gaze after all this time.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Kazuha began. The Balladeer made no move to acknowledge he’d even listened to Kazuha’s words.
Eventually, a long chord ended in silence. A long, prolonged silence.
“Then ask.” His arm moved again, and the melody continued. Kazuha thought back to his mental notes. He knew the questions that needed answering but he still didn’t know how to phrase them. Only because he was the only one The Balladeer would speak to didn’t mean he could get the answers.
“Did you ever teach someone?” No reaction. “Is there someone out there that will do your killing for you?”
The melody stopped abruptly. The balladeer sat frozen for several seconds before putting the instrument down.
“Ah.” He turned once more, his face unreadable. Maybe a direct approach wasn’t the best option. This time, he turned completely, and the two men were facing each other properly. The balladeer hadn’t changed either. Despite it, Kazuha had never really known this man.
“I thought you wanted to talk about us,” he continued while a dangerous grin spread across his features.
“There is no us,” Kazuha declared. If he wasn’t careful, his mask would crack. The Balladeer’s smile changed. It became almost warm, welcoming. At this moment, he looked nothing like The Balladeer. At this moment, it was just Scaramouche.
“There will always be an us. Do you really think disappearing for years will make it all go away? Do you really think that locking me away here will change anything?”
Kazuha didn’t answer. He knew it didn’t.
“Do you still live in our apartment?” The man questioned, tilting his head. “Do you still sleep in our bed?”
“I don’t,” Kazuha said before Scaramouche could continue. He was wrong and Kazuha would not let him get under his skin by switching subjects.
“No,” Scaramouche agreed. “I suppose you finally quit the force and became a professor like you always said you wanted if you ever would put your badge away. You probably couldn’t stand the thought of living in our apartment either.”
Kazuha held his breath. He hated him. He hated what Scaramouche had become. He hated that no one knew him as well as he did. His gaze fell on the floor. His hands had gone pale.
Scaramouche laughed.
“Well, well, you’ve gotten predictable love. Tell me, do you still think of me? In your dreams, do you still love me?”
“Do you have someone doing your work on the outside?” Kazuha asked as he looked up, fully ignoring everything Scaramouche just said. He surely saw what Kazuha was doing because his smile did not falter. Kazuha didn’t care if he was see-through in his tactics. Scaramouche was reaching for him, and it worked. He would stand his ground.
Scaramouche didn’t answer. Kazuha leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Scaramouche would be cooperative if Kazuha played his game, but Kazuha wasn’t here to indulge him. Kazuha wouldn’t be here if others hadn’t forced him.
“You know, I am the one that locked you up here. I don’t care what you’ve convinced yourself about me to stay sane but know that coming back here was not my choice.”
If his words hurt the other, then he didn’t show. He was too proud for it. Maybe angering him wasn’t the way to go about this either but Kazuha suspected it to be a lost cause anyway.
His theory was right. There was simply no way that The Balladeer was behind this. Scaramouche hadn’t done a thing since he was condemned to this island. In here, his words held no bite. In here, The Balladeer was powerless.
“But you’re still here. It’s almost flattering.”
Damn him.
“You should be proud Kazuha. You’re the first one I’ve spoken to in years.” Scaramouche rose from the floor and placed the violin on the desk. “Do with that information what you want,” he mumbled without looking back at Kazuha.
“So, you admit to not having any contact with anyone on the outside?”
Silence.
Heizou spoke in his ear saying that would suffice for now but if he got a chance to push it, he could. If there was a leak in security, they had to know.
“Scaramouche?”
The man looked up at the sound of his name. Kazuha hadn’t addressed him by name since his arrest. He couldn’t do it. All those interrogations, how was he supposed to call him by his name when the man in front of him was nothing like the man he knew? He was someone else and would be referred to as such.
Before that, he’d loved hearing his name from Kazuha’s lips.
White didn’t suit him as well as dark colors did, but Scaramouche was still beautiful. His hair was still the same ink color. Still cut the same. His posture still radiated what dominance his height lacked. Now, when Kazuha had his full attention, both waiting for him to speak, Scaramouche might just have been his old self.
Kazuha always fell for the silence. When Scaramouche didn’t open his mouth to spew anything but lies and nonsense, this was still the man Kazuha had loved.
And Kazuha hated it.
It was the reason he didn’t want to come here. Kazuha simply couldn’t stand the fact that the man he loved was the same one as the one in front of him right now.
“Is there anyone out there killing because you taught them?” Kazuha forced the words out. He wanted out of there as soon as possible. He couldn’t stand the way those indigo eyes stared back at him. He couldn’t look at him like this anymore.
His pulse quickened.
“You know Kazuha,” Scaramouche slowly walked along the glass wall, “You never liked talking about these murders. You should visit the sea more often.”
Scaramouche used to take Kazuha’s hand and drag him out of the apartment only to go to the ocean. He knew when Kazuha suffered from the perils at work. He knew that the sound of seagulls and crashing waves soothed his lover’s soul. He knew him better than anyone.
Scaramouche was still the one to know him best.
Scaramouche was smirking. That fucker truly knew what to say to creep under Kazuha’s skin.
Kazuha rose from the chair despite the loud objections in his ears.
“He won’t give me anything,” Kazuha explained, one hand against his ear as he walked away.
Silence erupted on the other end.
It wasn’t like they could force him to stay down there.
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Kazuha threw the doors to the prison up and walked out. Heizou calling for him drowned in the sound of waves.
Waves and seagulls.
A hand on his shoulder made him spin and smack it away. Heizou stared at him, eyes wide.
Why had he almost expected to see Scaramouche? Him and his beautiful youthful face framed in dark hair.
His pulse was still racing.
“Kazuha, are you okay?” Heizou repeated. He’d been asking that question ever since Kazuha emerged from the cells. Kazuha hadn’t answered him.
“He hasn’t spoken to anyone. This case is a copy cat there is no other explanation.”
“Okey, that’s good and all, but are you okay?” Heizou tried once again.
“I’ll help you with this case but after that, I’m out. This-” Kazuha pointed towards the prison building -“this is not happening again.”
Heizou nodded. Remorse was painted over his features. Kazuha wanted to apologize. He didn’t mean to be so stern. Especially not with Heizou.
He didn’t force him down there. Sara didn’t force him. No one did. He had a choice, but between doing this and nothing, it hadn’t felt much like one.
Kazuha took a deep breath. “I’ll wait in the helicopter,” was all he managed. There would be time for forgiveness later. Right now, Kazuha needed to get home.
Kazuha has classes to prepare and emails to answer. It was all part of his routine. The routine that by all means was nothing but fragments now. It had been one day, and he was already walking on thin ice.
The only thing he could think of was him.
Scaramouche and his beautiful face and calm voice. His fair skin and deep ocean eyes. His delicate fingers on the violin and fluid motion as he moved.
Kazuha buried his eyes in the heels of his palms. His body trembled.
Scaramouche had been Kazuha’s everything.
It had been rough. Kazuha’s mother died during Kazuha’s birth. Kazuha’s father blamed him. It was Kazuha’s fault that his mother was dead. Kazuha bore it. The hard words and the even harder punches.
He killed her and his father made him believe it. His body was a constant reminder of how worthless he was. The punches leaving bruises had quickly turned into punches that broke bone. He was too young to understand that lies like “I fell down the stairs,” or “I tripped,” would not always work at the hospital.
If he fought it, it got worse.
If he fought, he was beaten badly enough that a quick visit to the hospital wasn’t an option. Beaten bad enough for someone to finally speak up. Kazuha hadn’t accepted help. It was his own fault. He lied, repeating how his own clumsiness had brought him there.
He could hear the grown-up´s whispers but he couldn’t acknowledge them. He alone was at fault, wasn´t he? He was the reason his father drank and the reason his father hurt him.
Kazuha knew nothing of his mother. He’d never seen her. There were no photographs. No stories about her from his father. Only words about how she was worth so much more than Kazuha. That she had been his father's everything. If Kazuha killed her, maybe he was right to be angry.
It wasn’t until his young teens he found the courage enough to look for her. In his father’s study, he found a photo of her. Kazuha was her exact image. Fair complex, with light ashen hair framing their faces, and covering their foreheads. They had the same eyes and nose. The only thing he’d inherited from his father was the red in his hair. Otherwise, they couldn’t be more different.
Kazuha hadn’t been hurt bad enough for a hospital visit in years but that night, as his father caught him with his mother’s photograph in hand, he was in for the worst beating he’d ever lived through. He had seen the glass fall around him. He’d felt the broken bottle penetrate his shoulder only to get dragged down his back.
He wasn’t sure how he survived that time. He still doesn’t know if his father called the ambulance or some neighbor. It was a wealthy neighborhood. Someone must have heard him. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe his father cared.
Kazuha wasn’t taken away from his father then, but the beating stopped. The power of money was what kept him in that house. Kazuha wasn’t sure why his father bothered if not for continuing to torture him. He still didn’t know why. Frankly, he didn’t care.
No matter what Kazuha did, nothing was good enough. Not even as he graduated with two degrees did his father acknowledge him. By then, Kazuha didn’t care about his father’s opinions. He’d moved out during his first year of high school. They’d had little contact.
Kazuha met Scaramouche at the end of his first year at college. Nothing more than a coincidence.
Kazuha fell for him instantly. He’d been utterly defenseless against his calm and snarky charm. Not to mention his beauty.
Kazuha had been leaving the library for the day when he came across someone crying. Rosalyne. They were classmates but Kazuha still didn’t know her too well.
He couldn’t just leave her there. It was late and he guessed she’d thought herself alone. It made his situation rather awkward at the time. It wasn’t like he could sneak by either. Schools, as inconvenient as it was, had lights turning themselves on. Wasn’t motion detection just wonderful?
Having little choice that was less awkward for both of them, he’d joined her, not saying much at first. He’d just carefully rubbed her back and to his surprise, she’d leaned into him. It had been…odd. But he couldn’t just walk away. He wanted to comfort her. He didn’t like seeing others suffer.
Eventually, he dared ask what was wrong. She’d just received words that her husband had died in the war. Kazuha didn’t know she was married. But also, how was he supposed to know? Even worse, what was he supposed to say?
He’d barely had the time to give her his condolences before someone else entered the corridor through the doors down the hall.
That had been the first time Kazuha saw him, and Scaramouche took his breath away.
He’d been getting water for Rosalyne. With his return, Kazuha tried to excuse himself but Rosalyne begged him to stay. He’d contemplated leaving anyway, being in the same room as Scaramouche was distracting.
That evening he learned that he was in the army too. He’d only traveled here for his one month off to give Rosalyne the news of her husband’s death as well as take care of her if needed.
He was calm and kind. He seemed able to know exactly what to say to keep Rosalyne distracted. They didn’t even know each other too well. He’d practically only known her husband. Kazuha figured that’s why she wished for him to stay. Someone she knew better. If better was the right word to use in that situation.
Kazuha couldn’t take his eyes off Scaramouche.
Scaramouche would only stay in town for another week. For some unknown reason, as they would walk their separate ways, Kazuha found some unknown courage to ask him if he wanted to meet again before leaving.
He wasn’t sure what had come over him. Scaramouche had something Kazuha couldn’t explain. Something he wished to find out. Perhaps it was the small chance that every time their gaze met; he’d caught him checking him out too? Kazuha suspected he was nowhere near as sneaky as he’d hoped.
Although they only met once before Scaramouche left again. Once more was enough for Kazuha to wait for him. Before him, Kazuha wouldn’t suggest he was searching for someone. Yes, he occasionally went on dates, but it was seldom serious. After meeting Scaramouche, Kazuha knew he wouldn’t want anyone else.
He’d feared Scaramouche hadn’t felt what he’d done but as they were reunited it was clear that the feelings were mutual. He knew it was cliché, but Scaramouche had been all Kazuha ever wished for. Someone who understood him and wanted him for who he was. Scars and all.
He’d never felt love like that. Never been loved like that.
Silent tears threatened to fall down Kazuha’s face.
He hated it. He didn’t want to cry over the man who broke his heart. He’d done enough of that when he realized Scaramouche was the one they called The Balladeer. The one Kazuha apprehended and condemned himself.
He’d sat through dozens of interrogations. First, to clear his own name. Secondly, because Scaramouche refused to talk to anyone but Kazuha.
No, he wasn’t an accomplice. Yes, he could remain on the case. Then came Sara’s efforts to cover Kazuha’s involvement up from the press. Very few in the bureau ever learned about their relationship. He’d felt awful.
Kazuha wanted to believe that Scaramouche had gone insane. That Scaramouche wasn’t thinking clearly. But he was. Throughout it all, he remained calm and collected. Like a viper, waiting for its opportunity to bite. Except, the pounce never came.
Kazuha had locked Scaramouche up without the faintest clue why he’d committed all those murders. They had nothing except for vague evidence and confessions.
Kazuha had nothing. He had nothing and it had been killing him. The loneliness suffocating.
He’d been told time would heal all wounds, but time didn’t heal shit.
Instead of preparing for the class, he called a colleague of his. His students would have to do with a substitute professor for now. Kazuha needed to catch this copycat and then he could put this behind him once more.
This time it would end.
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It felt wrong going through the doors at the agency instead of the college. Hadn’t Heizou offered to pick him up at home, it could have been even worse.
Kazuha had decided. They would catch this copycat then he could write a report, and then he could slip away to his new routine with normal habits.
Copycats weren’t uncommon. There was no surprise that The Balladeer's murders made a comeback. He’d been the most efficient killer in years. He supposed some learned by observing.
The downside of the press.
Kazuha had read up on the investigation, but Heizou walked him through it anyway. Victims, survivors’ statements, evidence at the scene, you name it. Just as Kazuha expected, Heizou had done a great job with this.
The latest incident was the one with eleven children and one teacher dead on a school trip. Heizou had received the forensics report only this morning. Nothing new, just the same type of violence. The signature slit throat.
Compared to Scaramouche, these murders felt sloppy. So far there was no obvious relation between the victims which made them think there simply wasn’t one. Nor was the victim the usual kind of noteworthy.
It was simply gruesome. Kazuha couldn’t remember children among the victims listed in The Balladeers case. Scaramouche wouldn’t go that far.
Kazuha spent his break with Albedo. Heizou had an errand to run, and Kazuha didn’t want to be alone. Hiding in Albedo’s lab hadn’t been unusual back in the days anyway.
Reluctantly, Albedo had asked about their trip to Serai island. Kazuha told him the truth. There had never been any lies between Kazuha and his two closest colleagues. It didn’t frighten him to tell Albedo that meeting Scaramouche again had been terrifying.
Albedo didn’t pry, he showed concern. Kazuha appreciated it. Working with the two during the morning had been a combination of mixed feelings. He couldn’t deny that there was a certain safety in it. Being back, doing what he spent several years doing. Doing the one thing he’d wished to do all his life.
He’d believed him and Scaramouche to be similar. Kazuha wanted to help. He wanted to be of use to the people. Stand up for those who couldn’t fend for themselves. Scaramouche served this country.
After discovering who Scaramouche truly was, Kazuha had contemplated if Scaramouche was one of them who couldn’t leave the battlefield behind. It was too hard to believe Scaramouche was nothing but a killer through and through. The man Kazuha had loved couldn’t be that cruel. Nor could he have faked a love like that.
That was the biggest downside to being back. Being reminded of Scaramouche was simply too painful. Both Heizou and Albedo could see it. Kazuha knew he couldn’t hide it, his emotions on display just like an open book.
Kazuha lazily looked through camera footage from the attack that took place before the one with the children. As he himself worked with young ones he couldn’t stand it. Maybe it had something to do with his upbringing but the thought of children coming to harm had never sat right. No child deserved such hate.
He had more scars across his body from what his father had done than from his own doing. Neither self-harm nor work-related injuries could measure up. Despite it, the self-inflicted ones were the only ones he covered. He hated being shirtless due to the massive scar on his back, but those scars weren’t his doing. He’d been the victim and they told the story of his survival whether they were pretty or not. The self-inflicted ones, clean cuts over his wrists, were a harsh reminder of when he wasn’t as strong. When the thought of ending it all seemed better than the option of living.
Maybe he just wanted to feel alive. Seeing the blood run down his wrist although not deep enough to kill him gave him a sense of life. Only on the brink of death did he truly feel.
That was an emotion he feared. Something he could restrain with a job like a professor. A job that couldn’t kill him if reckless. Nor was he responsible for other's life either. Just their future within the aspect of history in literature.
Scaramouche had traced every scar across Kazuha’s body. Kazuha had told him the story of every one of them. The beating. The glass bottle had created a branch-looking scar on his shoulder and back. Then the self-inflicted ones.
Scaramouche would kiss everyone one of them. He’d say words of reassurance while he touched Kazuha with a gentleness only comparable to the handling of glass. He’d been the soft breeze in Kazuha’s life. Summer rain. Newly fallen snow.
Kazuha touched his shoulder as he paused the video. He couldn’t focus while old wounds reopened.
The faster he got done the faster he could return to the university. Return to his new life, whatever that distraction had become. Calling it anything else would be a charade.
Kazuha sighed and opened his mouth to loudly complain when he stopped mid-action. He hit the play button again. Then he hit rewind and played it again. And then again.
“Albedo, look at this,” he demanded. Albedo didn’t acknowledge Kazuha’s words until he’d finished up what he was doing. Kazuha showed him the few seconds, not saying a thing. Albedo didn’t follow.
“This was the only survivor from this attack, right?” Kazuha questioned. Albedo crossed his arms as Kazuha rewind it again.
“According to the statements, he was in a hurry, so why,” Kazuha paused the video showing the empty platform once more, “is he not stepping on the express train passing only minutes earlier?”
After considering Kazuha’s theory, Albedo pinched the bridge of his nose. Kazuha knew that look. He did that, knowing he’d missed something obvious.
Heizou picked up by the second signal. They met at the hospital. The survivor had been checked out the same morning. Kazuha sank down by the wall, pushing his bangs aside only for them to fall back.
“Should we put out an APB?”
Heizou shook his head. “We don’t know if he knows or not. He might not be guilty. We should look for him at his home and job before doing anything rash.” Heizou sank down next to Kazuha. They were both out of breath from rushing to the hospital.
“Not to mention, we are hunting more than one suspect. This man, Viktor, was hurt in the attack before last, making him the only survivor. That left him here, giving him a perfect alibi as the latest murders took place.”
This was true but even so, this man was the closest thing to a lead they had. Kazuha would not let him slip away.
“Let’s send one patrol to his job and another one to his home. We’ll meet them there.”
Kazuha agreed. Someone suffering from multiple stab wounds would probably not return to work in a haste. Kazuha knew he wouldn’t. Looking for him at home was the only reasonable solution.
Heizou carried out the order as they took their respective seats in the car. Kazuha didn’t drive. He could, but he trusted Heizou behind the wheel more than himself. An old habit.
They arrived before their backup. The red brick house towered above them, few lights shone in the windows facing the street. Kazuha rarely visited these streets. No friends nor family couldn’t take him through here. Not even his morning jog.
He didn’t like it. Almost like this entire street was close to abandoned.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
Heizou nodded in response. They might be right, but Kazuha still doubted it. The building looked like it would collapse at any given moment.
“I don’t like this,” he mumbled, reaching for his gun. There was something in the air. All was not well.
Heizou noticed this, taking his gun out as well. Heizou had an incredible intuition to work with. A hunch could get him far. Kazuha was the one to read the room. He was always able to tell when something was off, or they were followed.
He’d lost all faith in himself when The Balladeer was revealed. Kazuha had spent years living with him without ever sensing a thing. He had a theory of why, but he hated it too much to admit out loud. Heizou had comforted him, saying the man had been a great actor.
It didn’t help.
Nevertheless, Heizou still relied on that quirk of Kazuha’s. He gestured for Kazuha to take the back door while he moved on to the front. Fine by him.
Kazuha moved quickly and quietly. If the man truly was here, then a smooth arrest would be preferable. If he had to sneak to achieve it, then so be it.
Before he could ponder it further, a sound caught his attention. A man ran around the corner. He came from the front part of the house.
Kazuha didn’t have time to call for Heizou before confirmation of his situation came. Then Kazuha didn’t need to check. Heizou was alright, Kazuha could just run. The fact that the man ran from them was proof enough. He had to be guilty of something.
Another thing Kazuha mastered in this field, was speed. He was the fastest runner, and his stamina was unrivaled. As he jumped over a low wall, he caught the man in his sights again. It wouldn’t last long now.
However, It didn’t come to that.
As Kazuha rounded a corner, he was faced with a man cornered by a high fence.
“Hands where I can see them!” Kazuha called aiming his gun. The man turned slowly. For a second, Kazuha thought he could see defeat across his features, but the man slowly smiled. A wide confident grin.
Kazuha was the one with the gun, but this situation radiated danger. Kazuha was not in control. He removed the safety of his gun.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, you know.”
The words took Kazuha by surprise. His grip on the gun was suddenly not strong enough to fathom the knife emerging from the man’s hand. No time to react as the man cut the fragile skin of his throat.
Kazuha lowered his gun, his feet rooted in place. The man had fallen to the ground, still gurgling, gasping for breath. Blood coated the asphalt beneath him. Kazuha watched the light leave his eyes.
What the hell had he said? A pleasure to finally meet you?
No.
He’d imagined it.
There was no other way.
Kazuha crouched down, shifting the safety of his gun once more. Their only suspect was dead. What’s worse, he cut his own throat. Kazuha would never have gotten a word out of him. Nothing about accomplices nor a reason.
Just a bunch of nothing.
Heizou came running around the corner. He seemed fine except for the look of disappointment on his face as he took in the scene in front of him.
“Fuck,” he declared before he took out his phone to call it in. Kazuha could only agree. It was a valid description of the situation.
“Did he say anything?” Heizou asked as they waited for the team to show up. The backup should not be far away.
Kazuha glanced back at the dead man. The scene had repeated itself in his mind over and over. The smirk, the knife. How could anyone look that confident cutting their own skin open?
His gaze fell to his bandaged wrist.
It wasn’t the same.
He met Heizou’s gaze once more and shook his head.
“No.” There would be no excuses. No explanations. The man had killed himself. End of story. Who was there to testify about it besides Kazuha?
There used to be no lies between the two, but Kazuha refused to acknowledge this. The man’s words held no meaning. He could have been recognized since before he quit the force.
It didn’t have anything to do with Scaramouche.
It couldn’t.
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No matter what they did there was no sign of accomplices or helpers of any kind. Nor a copycat. Kazuha couldn’t believe it when he found himself almost wishing for a new murder just to get some clues.
It had been days and they still had nothing but a dead suspect. His apartment and belongings had been properly examined by Albedo and still, they came up empty-handed. It hadn’t been very successful at all.
On their third day of investigations, after the suspect’s death, Sara called for him. He suspected a slap in his fingers, they’d brought him in to solve this after all. Instead, she told him Scaramouche had asked for him.
“He’s asked for me?” Kazuha could hardly believe it. Had he pushed his pride to the side for once?
Hardly. A coincidence. Nothing more.
“I suspect he has something to confess otherwise he wouldn’t ask, would he?” Sara had sat through all their interrogations. She saw the balladeer’s pattern just as Kazuha did. Kazuha had to agree.
“So, just tell me when you’d like to—“
“Deny it.”
Sara’s fingers stumbled across the keyboard. She raised his gaze, one of her brows heightened in confusion. He got it. Scaramouche had never asked to speak directly. This was an opportunity. One Kazuha had decided to wave to as it passed by.
“I can’t give him what he wants.”
If he came every time Scaramouche called for him, how was he supposed to stay ahead of him? If he didn’t challenge his old lover’s games, then they would all lose. He couldn’t risk playing along. Not after what Viktor said before he slit his throat in two. Because that hadn’t been an illusion. No matter how Kazuha tried to deny it, there was no denying that that man knew Kazuha well. Either he’d been informed, or he simply wanted the attention of the man who locked a villain worth copying up.
Either way, it all had to do with Scaramouche.
Sara tapped the keys restlessly.
“Heizou told me that your first meeting him took a toll on you and that —“
Kazuha raised his hand for her to stop. He didn’t blame Heizou for this. They were supposed to report to Sara, this was details she ought to know.
“This has nothing to do with that.”
“Then what does?”
Kazuha remained silent despite that relentless gaze pinning him down where he stood. He would not speak about Viktor’s words nor his own heart.
Sara relented first. With a deep sigh, she tapped the keys once more.
“There. Request denied.”
A relief. Kazuha couldn’t tell if he’d held his breath or not. It ached either way.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sara added as Kazuha turned to leave.
He didn’t answer. He had no idea what he was doing.
Due to the loud silence in their case, Kazuha took the chance to return to the university once more. He still wore his badge and gun in case he was needed.
He knew it was unfair of him to slip away but this had been a part of the agreement and Heizou didn’t stop him. Although things were pretty much the same as they had been, their friendship was not the same.
It was entirely Kazuha’s fault.
Heizou was not to blame. Not for anything really. What happened three years ago was Kazuha’s mess. Kazuha’s problem alone. He knew it hurt him. Heizou had this sadness in his gaze as their eyes met.
He suspected Heizou was willing to go back as it was. Kazuha needed to decide if he was too. There was a heavy need for it. A want to subdue. The question was if he could do it.
He believed time would tell.
Back in the classroom, Kazuha was busy writing on the blackboard as students took their seats. It took him a few minutes to feel the unusual silence surrounding them. They were usually extra loud after Kazuha’s absence. He knew they didn’t necessarily enjoy the substitute teacher he assigned them.
He turned around, facing the crowd. They were all staring at him in anticipation.
Oh.
Oh, dear.
Kazuha thanked whoever god was willing to listen that he’d put his badge in his back pocket. On second thought, maybe they’d noticed that anyway.
They had figured him out and as usual, they were bubbling with curiosity. Kazuha was used to having their gaze on him, but this was different. Now he had their full attention in a new kind of light.
Kazuha pushed his glasses back and put the chalk down. He supposed a normal lesson was off the table for now. He should have known this would happen. He’d tried to avoid the press but of course, they had come for him the second it was evident that he was back. That, following the newest murders, said a lot, and reporters loved making up stories.
Kazuha and his team had done all they could to cover up Kazuha’s relationship with Scaramouche and for all they knew, they had succeeded. They simply sought him now because him being back was no coincidence. It was see-through and Kazuha had to give them that.
He sat down at the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. They might be his students and not the press but that didn’t mean they could make him talk.
“What exactly do you think you can get out of me?” He questioned.
”It’s not like we’re reporters,” Haypasia complained. Some hummed and nodded in accordance.
“But I’m very much still an agent. Whatever you’re allowed to know I bet you can read in the papers or watch on the news,” Kazuha retorted. He wasn’t going to lecture them in any way. He encouraged curiosity but concerning this, he would quell this flame as soon as possible.
“Did you really think disappearing for years would make it all go away?” Haypasia countered. Her voice was light and there was no trace of accusation, but still, the question hit Kazuha straight in the gut. He didn’t get a chance to answer before another spoke.
“Are you going to stop teaching?”
Kazuha turned his gaze to see Aether. Unlike the rest, he seemed busy scribbling in his textbook. Nowhere near as enthusiastic as the rest.
“No. No, of course not. I quit the force for a reason,” Kazuha reassured. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his student’s mouth.
Yes, Kazuha quit the force. Not because he thought it would make it go away. It was because he couldn’t stand it.
Pushing the lump in his throat by swallowing, Kazuha continued to explain that for the time being he’d stay on the force and if he was needed, they would have to put up with a substitute teacher once more. Therefore, Kazuha switched up the planning for the course. He comforted them saying it would be difficult for all of them, but he hoped they would be able to understand.
After class ended Kazuha went straight back to the agency.
His life continued like that for a few days. He only needed to acquire another substitute teacher once. There was little development in the case.
Kazuha had done his best to repair the friendship with Heizou. They both wanted it to work out so badly that the only thing missing was putting it in words. Or actions. Whatever made it feel okay again.
Kazuha stuck to the other in a similar matter as he’d once always done. They worked together, took breaks together, and sometimes even commuted together. Heizou didn’t mind picking Kazuha up, whether it was at home, or the university didn’t matter. After a few days, it did feel better.
Chills no longer traveled down his spine by the look of Heizou. Instead, he felt relief. A comfort. A safety that could only be found in the company of one’s best friend.
Perhaps it was even the first thing to feel good in a long while.
It had been two weeks since their failed attempt at catching the one responsible for the murders. No other murders had been committed in the meantime which now just about had laid the investigation to rest. They couldn’t figure out why Viktor would go to such lengths but since the murders had stopped, the board might settle for what they had.
Kazuha knew Heizou wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t either. Once again, they had their culprit, but no answers to why. Not a single clue, only speculations. The only good thing coming out of this was that he was almost free again. He could go back to teaching without interruption.
When the subject was brought forth, Heizou had grown quiet. No wonder. They had just patched their friendship together, but Kazuha had given no reassurance that he wouldn’t repeat his behavior from three years ago once more.
This time, he promised he would try.
Kazuha put his bag down and removed his coat. Students were already seated.
He started his lesson as he usually did. It was reassuring knowing this would be the only matter at hand in the future. He would return his badge and gun as soon as possible. He wouldn’t wear it longer than needed. It was only a shame he hadn’t been able to leave them earlier.
“Any questions?” Kazuha asked after writing the premises of the assignment on the board. He turned around to see one raised hand. He nodded, urging her to ask.
“Do you feel a sense of achievement?” Hapyasia asked after lowering her hand. Kazuha dropped the chalk.
“Do you really think that locking me away here will change anything?”
The temperature seemed to decline. A shiver ran through his spine as his student rose from her seat.
What?
Why were his words coming out of her mouth? Why?
Why?
Why?
A clicking sound brought him back to reality.
The safety pins fell from Haypasia’s hands.
“There will always be an us.”
Then the room exploded in flames.
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