Heiji reared back, dumbstruck. Hakuba chastising him in that annoying condescending tone he was used to. But this? Well, the Brit was being honest, he supposed. He just hoped that was a good thing. And he felt a little guilty; he hadn’t meant to embarrass the other boy.
“Of course I can,” he replied in English. His accent was American, with a slight Japanese lilt. “In fact, I think it would be interesting to take classes abroad. England, America, Australia, any of them. I like trying new things. And it might not even matter if I was at the top of my class or not, because I know I would have done my best. And if I didn’t succeed, then that’s more reason to push myself. No one’s perfect, after all, and there’s always room for improvement.“ He took another bite of okonomiyaki, ignoring the stares from Katsura. That’s right, the man had never heard him speak English before, had he?
"I’m sorry for embarrassing you. It wasn’t intentional.” There. He’d apologized. All that was left was to see how Hakuba reacted. And if the detective wanted, he’d continue to speak in English.
For a moment, all Hakuba could do was stare. Slowly, as the Osakan went on his self-important ramble, the foreign detective’s jaw actually dropped. The words that Heiji had said were ultimately unimportant and easy to dismiss; he couldn’t care any less for his aspirations of being his best and ego, but the way that he said them… The accent, the diction, the… everything.
“Good God,” Hakuba said, voice a whisper and also in English, without realizing it. “Flawless. Utterly… flawless."
The chopsticks clattered as they fell from Hakuba’s hands and onto the plate and he turned toward Heiji, wide-eyed.
"Y-you… you’ve been able to speak perfect English this entire time… with.. with that voice … and you… insist on…”
Hakuba ran a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell, Hattori-san…"