The Binding Vow of Lazarus

Chapter 97

Suzu hated the sound of their own footsteps against the quiet evening pavement, as if every click and scuff of their boots echoed their twitching nerves. They had pulled the collar of the long coat high, a shield against the stares that always came when they weren’t hidden behind one of their masks. They were in their original form — the one they avoided most because it always felt like stepping into a spotlight they never asked for.

Back home, their skin was just skin. Their hair was shaved neat against their skull and was nothing to glance twice at. But not here. Here it was different. In Japan, people’s eyes snagged on them shamelessly. Curiosity wrapped in politeness, sometimes pity, sometimes that brittle sharpness that Suzu hated more than anything: the reminder that they did not belong here.

Tonight they had chosen this form… or maybe "chosen" was the wrong word. Kenjaku hadn’t demanded it, but somehow it felt dishonest to come to him as someone else. If Suzu was going to walk willingly into the lion’s den again, it would be as them-self at least.

Inside their coat their fingers picked at their nails until the skin at the edges stung. The streetlamps bled a pale orange glow across the road, smearing light across the narrow path to the café. That café. The same one, again. Suzu wondered if Kenjaku found amusement in the routine of it, the ritual of meeting somewhere so ordinary.

Their stride slowed. The cold air scraped at their throat with every breath, and they felt the weight of hesitation pressing against the inside of their ribs. Why were they even here? Why did they keep coming back? They could have left. They could have been out of the country and somewhere far away. Hell, the offer still stood for them to dump the whole mess and move to a different end of the country — the newer northern branch still needed more help.

They stopped under a lamppost, staring at the glow pooling around their shoes. The café waited for their decision and Kenjaku would be inside, smiling that knowing smile.

Suzu pulled their coat tighter, nails biting crescent moons into their palms. They took one more step, then another.

The bell on the door jingled and the employee at the counter welcomed them inside. The café smelled of fresh espresso and sugary syrups. Their eyes flicked over the customers, then back to the booth where Kenjaku sat, already waiting.

Suzu’s boots scuffed against the wooden floor as they crossed the café. They slid into the booth beside him, not across, the way one would with a friend, though nothing about this was friendly. They exhaled a slow, sharp sigh, letting their shoulders drop heavily against the seat.

“Awfully rare for you to call me,” Kenjaku murmured, setting his cup down with deliberate care. “What’s the occasion?”

Suzu turned their head just enough to glare at him. Their jaw flexed, breath coming in a shudder in through their nose as if steadying themselves before the plunge.

“They,” Suzu said at last, low and clipped, “want to speak with you. Tsukumo. Haibara. Larue. Miguel.”

Kenjaku chuckled. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, tilting his head toward them. “Oh? And tell me, Suzu… did you tattle on me?”

Suzu scoffed, rolling their eyes, leaning back in the booth. “Just answer me.”

Kenjaku swirled the sake in his tiny cup, his eyes tracing the small reflection.

“And what do they want to discuss with me?”

Suzu’s throat felt dry, but they didn’t lie. “What you know and what you intend to do.”

Kenjaku nodded slowly, as if mulling over a request that had already been dismissed before it was spoken. He didn’t lean forward, didn’t frown, didn’t betray a single shred of reconsideration — just deliberate and infuriating silence.