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(...Why can't I shake this strange feeling? This man...who is he?)

[He watches him in silence, wondering what was hidden beneath that mask. He wanted to ask something but he was uncertain whether he should and risk making his headache worse.] ...Would you, would you like to come inside? I can make you some tea. It might help.

[ Come inside? At that, the Disciple turns his head back towards the residence again, giving it a more critical onceover. It wasn't London, it wasn't Old Bailey, and whatever was in there wouldn't be what he was looking for. But . . . this attorney had been there, too. And maybe that was enough to get him closer to whatever it was in London.

Wordlessly, he pushes himself up, turning towards the door. Despite the time of year, there's a soft, warm breeze that rustles through as he does so — a bit of determination on his part, perhaps. He takes a few steps forward and then looks back over his shoulder, as if to ask him whether he was coming or not. ]

[That sudden warm breeze, with all intentions to warm up the area, only causes Naruhodou to freeze, hot and cold now clashing with each other. He's stares at the Masked man, looking very lost and confused, his hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of Karma at his waist.] ...

[Did his heart skip a beat? No, he must be imagining things, this world playing emotional tricks on him. Slowly, he comes back to reality and quietly walks ahead of him to open the door for the Disciple. It's a quaint living space if not a bit clutter and damp? A cat comes out to greet them both as Naruhodou closes the door behind the Masked man once he was inside.] ...The couch should be fine. [He should have more to say, but the words aren't happening.]

[ He steps inside, lip curling briefly at the sight of the clutter. The cat is a welcome distraction, though, and as he sits down on the couch, he absent-mindedly holds a hand out in its direction.

His eyes stray back over to the attorney though — more specifically, to the sword at his side — and he tips his head to one side slightly at it. There was something— like something at the tip of his tongue, something just out of reach.

That train of thought is interrupted by another throbbing pain courtesy of his head, and the Disciple grimaces and pulls his hand away, bringing it back up to his forehead. ]

[Wagahai the cat, cautiously comes closer to the extended hand, but soon stops her approach when his headache returns. Naruhodou continues to watch him, which probably seems rather creepy how he's just staring, without saying much of anything. Soon as the stranger puts his hand back on his head though, he remembers he was suppose to make him tea.

And so he disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later, tray in hand with cups and a teapot. He pours the guest his tea in silence and then offers him the cup. As he does so, he goes back to staring at him.] ...This may be a strange thing for me to ask of you but, have we met somewhere before?

[There, he finally asked, eventhough what he really wants to know answer to, is still sitting in his gut.]

[ He takes the cup carefully, sipping at it slowly so as to not burn his tongue. The staring doesn't seem to bother him much; he does it so often himself that it's hardly anything unnerving when someone does it right back at him. Though it does help to have van Zieks around to do all of the talking, given that he's off-putting enough to shut most people up.

At that question, the Disciple looks up from his cup and nods slowly. Of course they've met. He was staring then, too, even in court. He gives him a quizzical look for a moment and then huffs, eyeing his cup again. After a moment, he lifts it up and shifts it in his hand to hold it much like van Zieks would his wine glass, and then looks over at him pointedly. ]

[There may have been just the slightest sound of his own teacup cracking a little. He wasn't applying that much pressure on it though, just that he had gone rather tense when the stranger just nods to his question like it was the most obvious thing.

And that motion...he's only ever seen Prosecutor van Zieks make that gesture with a cup in hand.] (But what does that even mean...? Why won't he just say something?)

[Somehow he ends up kneeling in front of him, without thinking or realizing he's doing it.] ...Could you take that mask off? Please? [He sounded desperate, as if he wanted to be absolutely sure, that he wasn't just hoping that maybe....]

[ He pulls back at that request, frowning, and sets his cup down. He couldn't put the simplest things together? No wonder he'd struggled in court. Despite the desperation in his voice, the Disciple remains unmoved, shifting away from him abruptly.

Unfortunately for him, that movement startles Wagahai, who'd been sniffing at his cloak with a great deal of curiosity. Taking a bit of the cloth into her mouth, she races off, tearing the clasp loose in the process. The Disciple snaps a hand up, trying to keep the cloak on, but the cat is already gone and the cloak with her. His lip curls again and he runs a hand through his hair, trying to maintain his composure. ]

[It's a good thing he hadn't poured himself a cup yet, because he just dropped his cup and it made a dull thud on the rug. He knew, he knew that this place could bring even the dead back to life, and yet still, seeing his best friend sitting in his own living room catches him off guard. The lights around the room flicker from his shock.

He's been here for almost two years now, already grieved and accepted his death and now--]

Asougi...!! [He hasn't called out for his friend like that in so very long, never thought he would even be speaking to him again. He could feel his emotions well up inside, but...there was something not quite right. What were those clothes he was wearing? And why the mask? And that cold silence he gave him...] I...how? What's happened to you? [Suddenly the flood of question just kept coming.] ...Why haven't you said anything to me?

Edited 2017-12-07 06:47 (UTC)

. . . Asou . . . gi?

[ The name seems foreign when he says it, questions it, voice rough with disuse. He falls silent when he realizes that he's spoken, but it doesn't really matter here, he knows. Vortex would never find out — probably.

Asougi . . .

The Disciple grimaces again, bringing his hand up to his head. There was something there, something behind that name. Another face behind another mask? ]

[His gesture confuses him. It's as if he didn't seem aware of himself. His eyes widen as something dawns on him. Back on the ship, the supposed cause of death was being struck in the neck after being pushed into the corner frame of the bed. What if...what if it wasn't the killing blow and instead...well, that just opens up a whole lot of other questions he wants answers for, but for now--

He grabs Asougi by the cuff of his sleeve, with concern on his face and dread sitting inside his heart.] Asougi, have....have you lost your memory? [...] Do you even recognize me? [At all?]

Edited 2017-12-07 07:14 (UTC)

[ That was an easy enough question for him to answer — the first one, anyway. The Disciple nods slowly in response, keeping one hand at his head. The pounding wasn't going away this time. Asougi, Asougi . . .

He glances over at the attorney, mask hiding his confusion as he furrows his brows. This wasn't anyone, just another face across the bench. But if that were true, then why does his heart seem to tighten at the obvious concern on his face? The desperation in that second question causes him to pause, hand tightening just a bit around the mask. Slowly, he pulls it off, setting it down to the side before resting a hand over half of his face again, as if that would will away the evergrowing pounding in his head.

His eyes shift over towards him, but there's no recognition there. ]

[He held his breath when Asougi finally removed the mask and he could see his face properly. When he turns to look at him though, his heart sunk, right into the pit of his stomach. There was no warmth behind those eyes, just this emptiness. The lights all stop flickering, a darkness now spreads throughout the room, as if night had come early. Wagahai, agitated by the sudden darkness decides to flee upstairs.

It's not his fault, it's not like he wanted to forget, he couldn't help it. It still doesn't lessen the pain he felt, that his own best friend didn't recognize him...like he was just another student, passing through the crowd.

With shaking hands, he detaches Karma from it's strap, gripping it tightly in his hands, seeking comfort and strength through it.] We... [His head hung low, unable to look at Asougi properly without falling apart.]

We had gone to trial together. You were suppose to defend me in that murder case, but I chose to stand for myself, so you wouldn't have to risk losing the exchange program for my sake. We narrowly won that case, and celebrated by having beef nabe that night. That was when you asked me, no insisted that I come to the Great British Empire with you.

So we set out for Great Britain together, you practically had me be a stowaway just so I could come with you. I was stuffed inside that closet that whole time. It was cramp, and we were always hungry because we had to split our meals...but we would spend all night, talking about what we'd do once we reached the British Empire and how you...you thought I'd be a great lawyer. [He squeezes Karma.] Those talks, being with you, it was worth all the trouble, because...[He bites his bottom lip. How can you forget me? He ends up shouting in frustration.] Because you're my best friend!

[ The darkness doesn't really help matters much. The Disciple grits his teeth, trying to shake off the growing pain in his head as the attorney speaks. Why did all of that seem to strike some sort of chord in him? Why did his head feel like it was screaming, and his heart was practically ready to burst out of his chest? His eyes stray towards the hilt of the sword, staring at it as if staring at a fixed point would make everything better — or at least make everything stop.

Instead, his gaze is drawn to the red headband tied to the hilt. He stares at it quietly, still, though he looks startled when the attorney shouts out at him. The Disciple draws his breath in sharply at that. ]

Best friend . . .

[ He says the words softly, turning them over carefully like some sort of revelation. Something about it felt so familiar, something that was so close now. His eyes drift back over to the hilt, to the red band, staring for another long moment. And then, he mumbles: ]

. . . aka hachimaki . . .

[ It's quiet, but he still trips over the syllables even as his voice trails off. That headband, that sword— Asougi Genshin's sword—

Genshin.

He lets out a cry of pain, pulling back and clutching at his head with both hands. ]

[His shoulders fall, his head leaning into the sheathe. He couldn't reach for his friend, this is the reality he now had to live with. It's fine, having his friend is better than the alternative. Maybe with time, his memory will return, for now...he should do what he can to support him.

As he admits defeat, Asougi says something rather strange. Aka hachimaki? At least it sounded like he was trying to say red headband. Right...one time he did mix up makigami for hachimaki. No matter how hard he tried, even the simplest of tongue twisters would put a stop to the great Asougi. He had little time to think on it further when Asougi suddenly just lets out a scream.

It brings attention back to him as he looks up at him, bewildered.] A-Asougi!? [He gets on his feet, Karma on one hand, the other just hovering over Asougi with uncertainty. He settles with resting it on his shoulder. Maybe he pushed him too hard.] I, I'm sorry! Please don't strain yourself too hard!

[ His shoulders heave as he breathes heavily, dropping a hand to brace himself against the ground. It was like the sword had split his skull wide open, inviting years and years back in to mingle with the present. The wax figure, the Professor — his father, Asougi Genshin. That was it, that was what he'd been searching for all these months, from the freight ship across the sea to the dark lock up in Scotland Yard, where he only escaped by whispering into Vortex's ear.

His breathing stabilizes a bit and he loosens his grip on his head, drawing that hand down as well. That sword, Karma — that was his. He'd taken it on the ship to England despite the looks from his best friend. That red band — his headband, to remind him of his flaws, that was his, too. And this was— ]

Naru . . . hodou . . .

[ The attorney— no, Naruhodou, he knew him. Best friends, friendly rivals, partners . . . how could he forget? How could that have just been gone like that?

Asougi stares down at his hands for a moment and then closes his eyes, collecting himself carefully. When he speaks again, though his voice is still quite raw, it carries more authority, much like it used to. ]

. . . Naruhodou.

[He stares, unsure of whether he heard him right. The second time he says it made him flinch, not because he was in pain, just from being startled to hear Asougi say his name, proper.] ...

[He's been trying so hard, so very hard to hold back his tears, but he could feel them falling on his face now. He was dead, he believed him to be dead all this time, now he's here, eventhough he couldn't remember, he's still here, with him. He presses his forearm over his eyes, and tries to stifle the noises caused from his crying.] Y-...yes...M-My name is, Naruhodou Ryuunosuk! And...you're Asougi Kazuma, my best friend, and partner!

[ Asougi manages to look up at him, despite the seering pain in his head. It was all coming back together — the steamship, the trial, dinner, school, everything — and he chuckles softly, shaking his head as if to shake all the cobwebs out. Right. He knew now. ]

It's been awhile, my friend.

[ He frowns as he looks over, taking note of the arm over Naruhodou's eyes. He should know this— no, he does know this, he can still read his body language well enough even if he's rusty. That stammering voice was also a dead giveaway, too. Asougi reaches over with one hand, resting it gently on his arm. ]

[He tenses when he felt Asougi hand on him. Ah, well so much for keeping the place dry. The darkness finally recedes only to be replaced now with a storm, happening indoors. There's a clatter as he lets go of Karma so he could get up and hug his best friend, never wanting to let him go. He's a sobbing mess, there's no way to stop the tears now until he can calm himself down.]

You...I thought...on the ship, you didn't-- [He couldn't get his words out, he just wanted to hold onto Asougi, wanting further justification that he was still right here with him. He was claim dead, Naruhodou had to live with this fact for almost two years now.]

[ He's only taken by surprise briefly before he allows it, resting his arms around him in turn. Asougi briefly glances up at the thunderstorm, raising an eyebrow, and takes note of that for later. For now, well. Stranger things have happened that need to be addressed. ]

I fell.

[ It's a simple, matter of fact statement. He remembers now — he fell, hit his head (his neck?) hard, and then when he woke up, he was in a strange cabin on a strange ship with no clue as to his whereabouts or even his name. Who knows what Naruhodou and Mikotoba had been told. ]

[He lets out an exasperated breath. Well of course you fell! That much they all understood.]

You were...you were declared dead. Accidental death. [Please understand why your partner is completely distraught.] I...they all thought I did it a-and-- [It was, a really traumatic time for him.]

Dead? — No, I was . . .

[ He furrows his brows, thinking hard. They declared him dead? But that's strange because— ]

I woke up in a cabin on that ship. I snuck off with the passengers in Hong Kong. [ Asougi frowns at that. They accused him? When they had proof he wasn't dead? ] . . . They had to have known, though.

They... [had to have known? His sobbing finally starts to lessen, his hold on Asougi lessen as he leans back, giving him a look like a lost puppy.]

What do you mean? Are you...you were still alive that whole time? [Did the crew knew? Sherlock? He glances over to the stairway. He must have, a famous detective wouldn't miss that kind of detail.] ...I never did saw your body. They had already removed you from the crime scene when I came too.

[ He'd be angrier if he didn't have a pounding headache and a lot to turn over in his head, but it's still enough to add a rumble of thunder to their sad little cloud. Asougi shakes his head, keeping his voice level despite his ever growing displeasure. ]

I never died. [ It was obvious then and now how he'd been purposely placed in a cabin, how members of the crew had undoubtedly been keeping watch over him. It was what made him flee the ship in the first place. ] . . . I lost my memory, not my life.

[ He leans his head back a bit with a sigh, looking up at the clouds above them. What was the point? Why would anyone even care about him? There was only one reason he could think of, but— they'd all kept it so close to vest. Asougi sighs, tilting his head forward again. ]

So you've been mourning me all this time, huh.

...Mm. Susato was beside herself as well. [In fact she broke into tears before he did. He slides himself over besides Asougi on the couch, rubbing what tears remain, though the water was probably coming from the rain cloud at this point. He looks to Karma, picking it back up and holding it close to him. Asougi never died, there's a small inkling of relief just knowing that some day when he comes home, he'll likely see him again...right?]

So then, where did you go after that...? After you escaped in Hong Kong? [He recalls a certain motion Asougi did with his teacup before his memories returned.] You were making these gestures, holding the teacup like Prosecutor van Zieks. Did you meet him somehow?

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