Six of Crows Oneshots

Always the Fool

A/N: so, this was requested by Merrytwinketoes And it's set after CK (Matty boo is alive don't worry) so lmk if you hate it but I tried. I'm supposed to be on a break, but I'm trying to get back to writing (I feel bad bc I'm not writing) if you requested things and I didn't do it plz just recomment it plz tysm

Kaz was just walking through the streets. His streets. Looking on the people and deciding a new con. There was always opportunity in these streets. The Razorgulls were quiet, the BlackTips were scattered, and the Dime Lions we're non-existent by now. He wandered in the busy streets, his iconic cane and piercing gaze split the crowd easily.

He passed the street he swore he'd never see again. The alley where he'd huddled close to Jordie, so close.

He clenched his crow's head, the lightly squeaking leather bringing him back. Whispers flew all around him like cackling pigeons, half of them were Jordie's voice. Taunting him, just the usual words and insults of course.

He turned, oddly enough he saw a man infront of Hertzoon's old shop.

Dark hair fell over the man's face. Features not unlike the ghost that followed Kaz around.

Dirtyhands scoffed. He was used to seeing ghosts now a days. Delusions were common when he went this long without sleep. Probably just another figment of his mind. One he didn't have time for.

He made his way past the man. Trying to speed on to Wylan's mansion, he was supposed to meet them for Inej's welcome home dinner, but he was planning to be early. Pick a lock or two to get in-

"Excuse me sir!" A voice called from behind him.

That tone. That voice. Aged, but it still haunted his nightmares and crawled through his sleepless midnights. That voice was the maggots beneath his skin when anybody got close.

Kaz turned on his heel. If you asked Dirtyhands, even he didn't know why he'd turned. But he did, to face the eyes he'd prayed to forget.

"Hi, my name is Jordan Rietveld." Jordie was always so expressive in the face, just like old times. "I'm looking for a Jacob Hertzoon, have you met him? Probably here a few years ago?"

Kaz took a measured breath, just like Nina had taught him for these type of moments. What had she called it? Anxiety? Kaz didn't have anxiety or whatever, that would make him weak.

He cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders, and taking a reassuring grip on his cane replied. "No, there is no man here with the name Jacob Hertzoon. Sorry for the inconvenience-"

"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

Did his own brother not recognize him?

A voice of sunlight and fresh cut hay fields. "Did you ever live in Lij? I don't know, this is really sending me for a trip." Only Jordie knew that sort of odd slang, the kind nobody else said but somehow he made it seem casual any way. Like it was common, like everything was easy.

The cold indifference spread through Kaz, freezing any panic or emotion in place.

The voice of a long dead child flitted through his kind. He could remind him. He could get his brother back. He could have Jordie back in his life. He could be like he used to be. Show the crows who he used to be. Just like old times.

"Hey man, you okay?" A hand reached towards him and brushed Kaz's clenched hand, the one not on his cane, and a thumb brushed his wrist.

His open wrist.

The emotional shut-off was overrided by the immediate panic. His breathing stopped, his lungs refusing to cooperate. Bodies. Bodies everywhere. His body was underneath him rotting and sloughing off in chunks-