Chapter Text
Atsushi knew Dazai had said the ability user’s base was a children’s youth group, but he hadn’t quite expected the plethora of rainbows above the entrance.
They were in disorganised, crossing lines, interlocking and winding around one another in a mesmerising way that the boy always seemed to get lost in. The doors to the establishment itself were coloured a honey yellow, paint crisp and newly done, according to his eyes. Still, the place filled him with dread, knowing that Ranpo could be, or dare he say was, in there. Dazai had informed him that upon visiting the hospital to see the man, he was not found, and assumed to have been taken by the ability user who he was told was named ‘Fumiko Enchi’. He was informed that, after Tanizaki had done a generous amount of research, she ran a youth group, and was completely fascinated by children, which, he could admit, was an odd sentiment, at the least.
Despite the lack of resemblance, the building reminded him of his days at the orphanage, all the times he was disregarded and tortured for what he believed to be the headmaster’s enjoyment. The thought made him want to shudder, though he pushed it to the back of his mind to make an attempt of disregarding it.
Reaching for the door handle, he allowed the sensation of the cool metal to calm him, taking in the realism of it all compared to the thoughts that drove him to panic. Atsushi pushed open the door after a moment of fearful hesitation, expecting a loud bustle of noise and children’s laughter as he entered, only to be met with uncannily calm, quiet chatter from the room, and a feeling of dread coiling up his spine. Immediately, he knew that something wasn’t right.
“Hello there! Woohoo!” A cheery voice echoed, like a speaker in silence, “What’s up? Can I help out with any stuff?”
A woman with long, sleek black hair and bright, maroon eyes skipped over, wearing a hearty smile.
“Ah, hello!” Atsushi responded sheepishly, finding himself shying away from the outgoing woman, “I just came to see what this place is like, for a short while, if that’s alright.”
“That is a-okay!” She gave a thumbs up in response, grin widening. “My name is Fumiko Enchi! It is a pleasure to meet you, Nakajima-san.”
Atsushi froze at her words. This was the woman Dazai discussed, name and appearance completely accurate. But it felt off, to say the least. His mentor had described the woman as flirty, seductive, bold, and direct. This woman was bright, cheery, peppy and the complete and utter opposite of the personality description he had been given.
On top of that, a bigger question lay in Atsushi’s mind; how did she know his name?
“How did you-?” He began cautiously, but his words came to an abrupt stop as she grabbed his wrist, making him flinch.
“Your dear coworker told me that you’d be coming! He told me all about you!” She tightened her grip on his wrist, and a feeling of dread settled itself in his stomach. “So, how old are you?”
“I’m, uh, 18. Could you please let go of my wrist?”
“Uh-huh!” Her smile widened as he responded with his age, and she let him slip his hand away from her tightly clenched fist. “Do you want any food, or a drink, or something?”
Dazai’s warning emerged in his mind at her words, his voice sharp and tinged with warning; Do not trust her. We have reason to believe she has attempted murder on Ranpo-kun.
But.. she sounded so warm. So unlike the way Dazai had described her, that same, kind, cheerful expression spread across her face still. The feeling of dread in his chest lifted.
What could one meal hurt? After all, he hadn’t eaten for several hours, and his stomach grumbled at the thought.
“Uh, yes please. Anything will do.” Atsushi nodded gratefully, smiling. She had a slightly odd look in her eyes, although he brushed it off. She must have just been excited to have a guest somewhat her age, he guessed.
“Yay!” She clapped her hands together, gaze glimmering with an emotion he couldn’t quite pin down. “I’ll get it for you in a bit, but we need to talk more now! I’m dying to know more about you.”
“Thank you, Miss Enchi-sama.”
“Call me Fumiko-san! It’s really, really nice to meet you.” She tilted her head, eyeing him thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you know how to braid hair?”
“Huh? No, I don’t. Why?” The silver haired boy blinked at her somewhat abrupt question. She certainly was a bit odd, even with her natural friendliness.
“Well, can I teach you? It’s so super fun, and then you can braid your female coworkers’ hair and make them look pretty!” Atsushi’s mind flashed to Kyouka at the statement, finding himself smiling at the thought of her grinning with a loose braid tumbling down her back.
“Sure. Why not?” He shrugged, letting himself be led along as Fumiko half-dragged him to a colourful, mix-matched carpet, sitting him behind a small child with long, flowing black hair.
“Well..” She carefully demonstrated, hands gentle as she tangled them in the young girl’s hair. Her nails were painted a soft red, and her own hair was tied back in a loose, shiny ponytail, falling down the back of the embroidered cardigan she wore. Atsushi himself didn’t find himself wondering about her appearance, moreso focusing on the braiding technique.
Finally, Fumiko pulled her hands away, undoing the neat knots she had made in the child’s long locks. “It’s way easier than it looks, trust me. I’ll be back with some food in a sec’; try have a go!” She chirped, perching on the balls of her feet before bouncing away gleefully.
Once she had disappeared into a room labeled ‘staff only’, Atsushi narrowed his eyes, imagining the process in his mind before reaching tentatively to the brunette strands that were in front of him. They were surprisingly soft, and he had the odd urge to sniff them, though he pushed the thought away, thinking of how much discomfort it would bring to the victim of his antics.
After a few minutes of struggling, he managed to begin finding his way through the technique, weaving the coils of hair together like threads of a sheet. The hair folded itself together, a calming sensation washing over him at the tranquil activity.
“I’m back!” Fumiko’s voice echoed through the quietly playful room, and she weaved between clusters of children, holding a plate and glass in hand. She set them down in front of Atsushi, a grin spreading across her face at the sight of his braiding skills. “Wow, you’re a natural, Nakajima-san! Also, can I call you Atsushi-kun?” He was slightly taken aback at the question, but still nodded, her smile infectious.
“Of course. Thank you again, for the food.”
“It’s no problem. Dig in!” At her words, he picked up the plate, staring at his with his mouth slightly ajar, practically salivating at the sight of something so delicious-looking. A crisp, chestnut-brown chocolate brownie sat on the plate, topped with a purplish-brown, bell-shaped flower, enclosing itself with oval shaped leaves.
“The flower is edible, by the way!” She noted, “And, in my opinion, it tastes really good! It’s a nice tang before the brownie’s sweetness. But, like, also sweet!”
“I’ll be sure to try it.” Atsushi gave a genuine smile, picking it up by the stem and taking a bite. The flavour of it washed over him instantly, a sweet, blissful sensation brushing along his tongue, and he released a contented sigh. “Ah, it really is nice, isn’t it?”
“I know! Now, try the brownie! I made it myself yesterday.”
Swallowing the last of the pleasingly sweet flower, the boy’s gaze drifted back to the plate, and he took a bite of the brownie, the corners of his mouth being tugged upwards at the taste. The flavour brought him back to one of his few less bleak days at the orphanage, when he’d stolen some sweets that belonged to the staff from the kitchen. He’d hidden behind a shed and nibbled on it, smiling and giggling the entire time.
That memory still reflected him in the present. He had learnt long ago to appreciate good food when it was around, and something as appetizing as this wouldn’t be something he left unnoticed.
Resisting picking off the crumbs after finishing, he put down his plate gently, exhaling deeply.
“I know I’ve said this a dozen times already, but thank you. That was amazing,” Atsushi spoke carefully, voice filled with gratitude towards Fumiko.
“There’s absolutely no need to thank me! I’m happy that you enjoyed it. After all, it wouldn’t have been any good if you’d found it gross and yucky.”
The silver haired boy chuckled at her remark. Her vocabulary throughout the time he’d been talking to her reminded him of a young child, curious, but also not able to find more mature words to describe something.
“Oh, oh! Guess what, Atsushi-kun?”
“What is it?” He leaned forward in interest at her sudden burst of excitement, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I’m hosting a really big party in a really big hall! It’s gonna be one of those balls like in fairytales, right?” She flashed a peppy smile. “And you and all your colleagues are invited!”
Atsushi let loose a laugh. Dazai had been wrong. Fumiko Enchi was simply misunderstood, clearly. She acted so young and naive. How could someone like her be so awful?
“We’ll all definitely be there!” He nodded, practically giggling at the way she bounced up and down like a small child. “Thanks a lot!”
Abruptly, an uncomfortable knot tied itself in Atsushi’s stomach, but he tried to push it to the back of his mind, focusing on the young woman’s ecstatic words. Still, a dryness emerged in his mouth along with the increasing pain that took over his stomach. He tried to keep his composure, taking a deep breath before speaking, voice trembling slightly;
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Fumiko-san, but do you have a bathroom I can use?”
“Yup! It’s just down that hall, on the left. See you in a sec!” She waved as Atsushi stood, legs feeling like jello. He managed to make it out of her line of sight before the real pain set in, heart thudding in his chest, the throbbing making him wince. Staggering down the hall, the lights above him shone too bright, and he screwed his eyes shut, ears ringing to match his blood screaming and heart banging on his ribcage. After making an attempt to peel open his eyes, he realised his vision had muddled into a mix of colour and spinning motion, a quivering groan escaping his lips as he staggered against the wall, desperately trying to hold himself upright. His head pounded, like screaming children running around and pounding on the sides of it.
Atushi slid down the wall, barely able to hear his own raspy, wheezing breaths through the blood roaring in his ears. His legs were heavier than they should have been, like dead weights slowly leading a boat to sink and be swallowed by the sea entirely.
“F-Fumi-..” He croaked out, throat burning as he tried to form a coherent sentence. Even whilst calling her name, he knew, subconsciously, that she had done this to him. Dazai had never been wrong about her. She was a cruel, cunning woman, easily manipulating Atsushi for her own will.
His mind drifted, no matter how hard he tried to focus on staying conscious. A picture of Ranpo flashed into his mind, his imagination twisting it into a picture of his colleague shivering on the floor, the silhouetted shadow of Fumiko Enchi kicking him with a daring laugh.
Despite his worries, his mind drifted further, thoughts jumping from trying to force himself to stay awake to the sweet taste of the flower topping the brownie. Looking back on it in his current state, Atsushi came to the realisation that Fumiko’s eagerness for him to consume the flower was slightly peculiar.
After a moment more, though, guilt consumed his thoughts once again.
He couldn’t save Ranpo.
He couldn’t even save himself.