Chapter Text
Such a wonderful thing to be born upon the world, yet now once again, he’s just a pathetic kind of boy.
Once again, Edogawa Ranpo wakes up all the same.
Ranpo doesn’t know if he should move or not, he’s afraid of what outcome will come out with each movement he makes. Every breath he takes is mechanically timed perfectly, he keeps his eyes closed though he wants to open them.
The pain from every previous life comes to him, the faint scars itch for him to scratch.
Just how many times had he reincarnated? How many times did he fail?
Unconsciously, his nails reach his cheek and pick at the skin— it still hurts so bad.
The blood drawn out from his nails brings him memories of what had happened previously.
It was like always, except he had created his own organization against Fyodor and allied himself with Dazai—yet, he didn’t expect his most trusted member to betray him.
The betrayal didn’t hurt as much as it was intended to, and he knew it was stupid to hold a grudge for one too many lives. (That's quite the statement judging from his ever growing hate for Dostoyevsky.)
No, that’s wrong, that happened much more before this life.
Ranpo tried keeping up with which life he lived and the order of them all, which isn’t easy at all considering just how many times he lived and died, lived and killed, lived and gave up—
He inhales a deep breath, pulling his hand away from his face.
It’s suffocating; his failures seem to count up to hurt him even more the more he lives again, and the faint but ugly scars on him can prove that. Once or twice Ranpo would look at them in his reflection and fear the one he became.
He wonders if all of this has changed his mind, his soul.
Sitting there holding his own wrist and thinking over his wrongs, the wind starts to pick up. The day is windy and cold.
Once again, he’ll try. With only just a singular spark of hope to keep him going on, if this fails, Ranpo doesn’t know if he’ll try again. He can only go so far until he gives up.
Getting up and pulling his coat closer to himself, he starts to walk to his destination, the company where he first met Fukuzawa.
(Fukuzawa had stood before him with his katana in hand, Ranpo was an enemy to the agency. But just seeing the face of the director with nothing more than just anger, he’d accepted his death and bit the apple right after crimson red bled through his shirt.)
Ranpo looks up to the sky with empty eyes—the same ones he feared from whenever he looked at his own reflection, he wondered what kind of higher being had made him to be like this.
Ranpo believed his existence was just something by mistake; he was written with a left hand, scarred and inexperienced.
Perhaps even just a simple joke upon the world.
Once he’d believed he was worthy of being like a god too.
Picking up the pace, he reaches the building and he sees the crime scene, it doesn’t faze him at all. Ranpo hesitates to get inside, nails digging into the fabric of his coat.
What if he doesn’t have it in him to be beside the agency, is he worthy of being alongside them anymore?
(Atsushi had his tiger arms wrapped around his neck, threatening him to let the hostages out, which included Naomi and Haruno. Ranpo never budged and had only smiled weakly, sneaking a quick bite into the apple. There had been no other choice, everyone was going to die in that building in only a few seconds if no one found the bombs.)
Pushing the thoughts away, he gets inside and up to the office where Fukuzawa would be in. He feels his sins crawling on him and under his skin.
And so, Ranpo acts like he has never met anyone in this room at all. No one suspects a thing.
It’s the same thing. He doesn’t react when Oda Sakunosuke kills the secretary, and he isn’t fazed about anything that happens in the room.
And there he is, eating with Fukuzawa at the same tea house, although he doesn’t eat much more than one bowl. Even one bowl feels too much.
And so everything else is just the same.
For once, the mocking and insults that were directed towards anything in world stopped.
Whatever happens in the theater and the aftermath of it is the same.
Ranpo couldn’t tell if the tears he shed were real or fake, but the apologies he repeated were forced until the fifth time he said ‘sorry.’
He knew that two outcomes could come from this too. Either the Happy End he had died for what seems a thousand times over, or the same disappointment he faced every time.
Most likely, it was the second one.
Everything kept going as the first time. The Agency was made, saving Yosano, Kunikida joining, and so on.
The hurting and pain is all the same to them all. Normally, he’d help them in his own way, trying to keep them smiling throughout all their pain—he was always playing the older brother no matter how much he denied it.
Ranpo still does that, it doesn’t matter what life he’s in; so long he’s with the agency, he’ll try to ease their suffering even if only a bit. It’s just that every word that comes from him burns.
It’ll be alright, or something like that. But it’s not, it’ll never be alright. There’s always something that hurts them, they all get through it all still so admirably strong.
But it pains him to see their pain, his failures are the reason for it too. If only he had been smarter, if only he was stronger, maybe he’d be able to stop their suffering even if temporarily.
“Ranpo-san?” A voice comes from beside him, there stands Kyouka with a bag in her left hand.
Ranpo turns his chair away from the window to face her, a smile paints his face. “Kyouka! What do you need?”
(Memories come to him with the picture of the pained expression on her face from his own betrayal. It hurt as much to him as it did to them.)
She shyly averts her eyes away, and holds the bag to him. “I got some candy…” Kyouka wanted to add more but she closed her mouth, “I wanted to share with you.” She added instead.
Ranpo is more focused on the shadow lurking around Kyouka, its hands are wrapping around her neck with sharpened teeth and talons; ready to tear apart its prey and devour her—come to think of it, he’s seen the exact ones around other people.
“Ranpo-san?” The girl asks again, hesitating in saying his name. She fidgets with the strap of the plastic bag nervously. She’s worried for him.
“Ahah! I was just wondering a bit over something, so don’t worry about it Kyouka!” He gets up from the chair and leads Kyouka away to the break room.
The two sit down next to each other, Kyouka takes out the candy, they’re his favorite.
She hands him one while he stares blankly at it.
Ranpo remembers eating this with Dostoyevsky, it tasted so bitter and disgusting; he sat there eating candy while fate was still on the same route of the downfall of the agency, he sat there beside the enemy he swore to destroy.
They sat together mixing the candy. Ranpo had taught her his way of eating it and now it was her favorite way of it.
“Kyouka,” The girl looks at him, the concern painting its way onto her face. “I'm alright, so you don’t need to worry your head about anything.” Ranpo gives a small pat on her head, he doesn’t like the expression the girl has on her face.
“But…” Kyouka doesn’t say anything more. She trusts his words and nods, “okay.”
It turned awkward now, but they still enjoyed the company of each other.
Ranpo ignored the whispering in his ear and the deformed creatures lurking.
—
Walking around alone on the street. Ranpo paid more attention to the things he saw, trying to figure out just what he was seeing and feeling all this time.
The shadow creatures and deformed beasts haunted every person’s mind he walked by, no one but him saw them physically.
Just like the times where he’d been the only person able to see the truth about everything, he was the only one able to see these beasts.
Ranpo had glanced at every single one and noticed things about these things, the whispering was mocking—it explained what he had heard when he sat next to Kunikida that one evening.
The sharp talons hovering over someone was trying to drive the victim to cause self inflicted wounds. Ranpo saw how it would grab onto an arm and the person would shiver and grip it uncomfortably. He’d be uncomfortable too.
Said creature would try to swallow you whole, baring its teeth and unhinging its jaw with a painful crack. It wouldn’t try to eat anyone, it just stayed there ready to strike.
Ranpo assumed that it was anxiety or guilt, maybe anger? He couldn’t tell.
He was always bad with emotions and feelings.
Ranpo shrinks onto himself as he feels some of them leave their respective victim to go to him, finding a fascination in a person that can see them.
Someone they could torment properly.
It comes to him all of the sudden, he is an ability user. The realization of it finally makes sense.
All of the times he was around Fukuzawa with a shadow trying to swallow him whole, a beast was looming around Yosano whispering things into her ear, the one around Dazai trying to take off the bandages, the faint insults he heard that were directed to the Tanizaki’s and Atsushi, the one with Kyouka was obvious now—it all made sense.
Years of pretending to be an ability user, wanting to finally fit into a place. Years of not being stupid enough to be a human or special enough to be extraordinary.
Ranpo was finally able to fit somewhere just as he wanted, so why did he hate it so much?
He’d spent so many nights wishing he was like the others in the agency, able to be of use to Fukuzawa, he wished and prayed for the lie to be true.
So why when he did have what wanted, he wished it was gone?
Ranpo could feel the creatures around him, far too much to know how many. Did they abandon their own victim to come and feed off his suffering?
It made his stomach twist.
Their eyes dug deep into him—they cackled, mocked, and insulted him continuously. Some picked at his skin, some tugged at his hair, one tried to choke him.
Ranpo quickly got up and tried getting away from them, hoping that they’d go back to their own victims.
People glared and shouted at him while he simply just ran away.
Ranpo could sense that they were trying to reach him and latch onto him.
It was fine, they could feed off of his pain. He can handle it. His human limits can be ignored, they don’t matter and they don’t exist.
Ranpo’s not allowed to have limits, limits cause mistakes and he, as the pillar of the agency, is not allowed to be anything but invincible.
—
Ranpo had let himself become the source for these creatures to feed off of.
He didn’t care that it caused him restless nights or how many memories it dug out, it was his own burden he had to carry on his shoulders and he learnt to accept that.
It still didn’t stop his coworkers from worrying about him.
They sometimes tried to get him to talk about it by starting a topic and slowly going into getting him to talk, most times they tried to corner him and force him to talk. None of it ever worked though.
Ranpo doesn’t want them to care, he needs them to be safe .
Maybe he does want them to care, Ranpo wants to be basked in their warmth. But he doesn’t know that he wants that.
It’s hard, the beasts were able to whisper and speak more clearly now that they fed off of him, he could hear what they’re saying and spouting: “ just give up, you won’t succeed again. ” “ You’re such a fool for trying to go against fate. ” “ It’s still so funny how your suffering feeds us! ”
Ranpo remembers all what they say, he had written them down in his journal. He’s afraid of what else might happen if these creatures gain more power when he still didn’t act out on his plans.
He needs to act fast.
Ranpo distanced himself away from everyone to put his plans into motion.
But that’s not the only reason. The shadows are getting more demanding and controlling, it’s not like he’ll give up his mind to them but it’s getting bothersome.
He has to keep calm, a large spike of emotions from him could cause something bad, a simple mistake like that will not happen.
This mission is his to fulfill, he can do it. And even if he can’t, he has to.
So there he was, at the top of a rooftop on a particularly windy day. Standing there and looking down at the ocean, there’s no one around since it’s an abandoned building. He could see the agency from there.
If they knew what he was doing, they’d surely be mad at him. They’d ask why he didn't tell them his plan, why he didn’t ask for their help.
He knows they want to help him, they care for him just as much as he does. It hurts to imagine an expression of distress on their faces.
(Like the time the world has ended, everyone was dead, including Fyodor who had killed himself. Naomi had lost half her body but was still alive , Ranpo couldn’t do anything but comfort her through the pain.)
Ranpo doesn’t like getting flashbacks from things he doesn’t want to remember either. It just ends up proving his points.
Taking out the pocket watch, he sighs and kicks his heels impatiently.
“Finally, you took far too long.” Ranpo turns around, frowning at the sight of the man in front of him.
“Forgive me for taking that long, I simply had an important thing to attend to…” Fyodor had a grin on his face, far too cold and cruel, it’s almost mocking Ranpo.
The detective looked at his face with disgust, he crossed his arms. “Sure…”
There was something awfully wrong about this, too wrong. Fyodor was standing high and firm. His hands are hidden by the dark coat, hiding something.
It’s hard to tell what the man is thinking, or what his intentions are. It’s driving Ranpo insane.
“You know,” Fyodor says before Ranpo could open his mouth, annoying . He worries about what the important thing was, because he knows that Fyodor is never the one to be late no matter the occasion.
It’s something he learnt a lifetime ago.
“I admire your determination.” Fyodor tilts his head, genuine fascination drawing on his face, but Ranpo only felt uncomfortable.
Something felt wrong, all too wrong.
He steps closer, “an abilityless person with an intelligence unmatched like mine; the ideal of my goal. Unfortunately…” Fyodor’s expression grows dark and resentful. “You’ve associated yourself with those parasites. ”
He grits his teeth at the insult. He was wrong, in this life, he’s a part of the category he pretended he always was a part of. Fyodor thinks he isn’t an ability user, simply because he still uses ‘Ultra Deduction’ as a cover for it.
It dawns on him why he had interrupted what Ranpo wanted to discuss with him, the realization hits him and he feels dread.
“I’m sure you know that I’m doing all of this for the sake of a better world, a land so untainted with sinful beings.”
“What have you done to the agency?” Ranpo spits out with malice, glaring daggers at the man in front of him, who is still playing a harmless man.
Fyodor laughs as the dark coat flows with the wind. “Just what is right, the punishment for their crimes. ”
In the distance, he sees an explosion go off in the office of the agency. Destroying the building.
Ranpo’s eyes widen and he freezes in his spot. “Don’t look so shocked now, the explosion felt like nothing to them.” Fyodor whispered, standing beside him. He had a smile plastered on his face, proud of his own doing.
“Just what do you mean by that?!” Ranpo grabbed him by the collar, good thing he kept a dagger with him for defense, it itches for him to grab.
“They were already dead before the explosion.” Fyodor calmly said, not trying to break free. Ranpo didn’t say anything, he knew what he meant already.
The man revealed his hands, one empty but bloodied and the other has a heart, still fresh and dripping blood.
His grip on Fyodor’s collar loosens at the sight, it’s not new to him, he’s used to such gruesome things.
“You see, they’ve already gotten the perfect punishment to pay for their sins.” He freed himself from the loosened grip.
Ranpo could only imagine what type of cruel punishment they got. Fyodor takes his hand and drops the heart in his palm. “This is your president’s heart. I’ve personally harvested it.”
All he could do was hold it, Fuluzawa’s heart was in his hand, still bleeding.
Of course this would happen, why did he even try. He knew another tragedy would end this tale.
This was his choice, the choice he wanted to make.
“I would’ve done the same to you. After all, you’ve tried to defy everything I’ve set up for a better world.” Fyodor looks onto the horizon, leaning to the railing.
“But, you’re nowhere near as bad as these parasites you call a family. ”
Ranpo could feel something cracking inside of him, he tunes out whatever Fyodor has to say next. His vision blurs and shakes,
Time and time again, everyone dies. It was his greed and selfishness that had started this.
He feels like sobbing again at every single mistake he made, he doesn’t even know what they were.
He doesn’t know what he did, but it was his fault.
In the back of his mind, a voice tells to avenge them—screaming at him and demanding blood to be split. His anger overtook the sadness and sorrow.
“What’s wrong, detective? Shocked that your actions caught up to you? This is your fault.”
Ranpo knows it was, he was to blame for all of this in the end.
If only he had picked up the booklet instead of that damned apple.
At that statement, he snaps. He doesn’t yell or shout.
The last he knows is he has a dagger to Fyodor’s throat, a thin line of blood drawing out as the man only smiles.
“Foolish you are, dear Ranpo-san.” his hand grip onto his own wrist, he doesn’t move away, not fearing the deathly ability Fyodor holds.
Ranpo doesn’t wait for any word to come from his mouth, just looking at his face hurts already. The face of someone he had seen as an equal once in a life. A face he had grown comfortable around in another.
Ranpo hates him.
Not thinking twice, he slashed his throat and blood splattered everywhere. Fyodor’s face held a shocked expression, but still a pleasant and painless one.
At the same time, the same blood that had splattered was also his own.
“Hah…” he tearfully smiled, looking at his own hand, still somehow not dead.
Ranpo sinks into his knees, head in hands—he wants to scream in agony, shout in anger, cry in grief and sadness.
The pain is unbearable.
Of course, no matter how much he tries, it just comes crashing down in the end.
Because when does it not?
He isn’t the type to cry or scream to relieve pain, that was a fact that wouldn’t be changed at all. The only thing he’s sure about himself.
But yet— a choked sob comes from him. Tears fall down his face. He sobs into his hands, trembling and shaking.
Surely, surely the figures that plagued him are having a feast with the emotions he’s emitting—pain, sadness, grief, anger—he can only name a few. How had he not died yet, that he doesn’t know.
The itching urge he was so used to wasn’t there, he was ready to give up once and for all. Even if he knows he doesn’t, he doesn’t think it’d be safe to even try again.
It‘ll be in vain anyways—
Really? You’re giving up now?
Yes, all of the lives that were given were the suffering he chose.
That doesn’t sound like you at all.
Maybe in the past, but now… now he doesn’t even know if this is what he wants. Maybe it’s better if he let go of this, then somehow, in another universe the agency will be happy—without him or not.
But is that what you really think you want?
Ranpo doesn’t know. He can’t answer.
Where has your selfhood disappeared?
Ranpo doesn’t answer, he feels numbness come to him. There is nothing he feels. There is a hand that brushes his uneven hair strands. They’re like the talons of the monsters that gladly fed on his emotions. but they feel more gentle.
Try once again, do as you did before all of this. Have trust in everyone around you;
You don’t have to be alone in this.
Huh… those simple words he has heard once comfort him, maybe he wanted to hear this. Even if it's untrue, he likes it.
He closes his eyes and expects nothing but death. Darkness finally swallowed him whole.