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From the moment Ranpo first laid eyes on Naomi, he knew she wasn’t real.
No one else seemed to realize it, though, so he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, he supposed.
And, well, he couldn’t blame them for not noticing. She certainly seemed real, acted real. She carried conversations, ate meals with the agency, and was even able to make physical contact with everyone. There was nothing about her that screamed fake.
In fact, she appeared so real that Ranpo second guessed himself and his ultra deduction. Maybe he made a mistake this time? But he came back to work the next day and there she was, the same as before.
At first, he couldn’t quite tell if Jun’ichiro knew. But after watching them interact for ten minutes, Ranpo understood. He knew. In fact, he’d been the one to create her.
Light snow truly was an impressive ability. Ranpo wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, but if he had to guess, he’d say that Naomi was an advanced, sentient illusion fueled by Light Snow. It probably took a lot of energy to keep her going.
Now, he wasn’t sure why Jun’ichiro created and kept the illusion around, why he pretended she was really his sister and that she was a living, breathing human being. But Ranpo was certain of one thing, and that was that he wasn’t going to get attached.
Nope—he wasn’t going to associate with Jun’ichiro’s figment of imagination. She wasn’t real, so why should Ranpo waste his time interacting with her like she was? Sure, he definitely came across as cold, but everyone just chalked it up to him being territorial over the agency.
After observing Naomi for awhile, Ranpo discovered a few things. First, Jun’ichiro did not control her. Naomi was as sentient as any human being. He probably could control her, but Ranpo guessed he’d feel too bad about it.
He also realized that Naomi had her own distinct personality. She was absolutely nothing like her brother. While Jun’ichiro was more mild-mannered, Naomi was loud and outspoken. Jun’ichiro took things pretty seriously while Naomi was more carefree. They even disagreed and argued with each other. Because of that, he assumed Naomi was his actual sister once, someone he used to know and love.
His skin prickled with unease whenever she was around. He didn’t like it.
A couple months into Jun’ichiro and his illusion working at the agency, something… weird happened.
Naomi walked through the door like usual with a wide grin stretching across her face and her hair swishing behind her back. “Good morning,” she greeted, nodding to Ranpo and the others as she sat down.
She was followed by Jun’ichiro, the bags under his eyes dark and his smile strained. Even after he sat down and opened his laptop, Ranpo saw Jun’ichiro staring at Naomi. Almost as if he were worried about something.
Naomi laughed at some stupid joke Dazai made, and a chill ran down Ranpo’s spine at the sound. He excused himself to use the restroom.
That wasn’t Naomi.
Well, it was, but it wasn’t.
She looked the same, sounded the same but… somehow, Ranpo could tell she was different. That wasn’t the same illusion that walked through the door every day for the past couple months. Jun’ichiro’s whole demeanor was evidence enough—the anxiety in his eyes, the exhaustion clinging to his face, the way he just kept staring at her…
For whatever reason, he created a new Naomi.
Ranpo was vaguely ill.
It shouldn’t bother him because he didn’t care about Naomi—she was just another nuisance he had to put up with. But something about how easily she was replaced, how seamlessly she slipped back into the agency, how she was exactly the same yet so different…
Ranpo didn’t come out of the bathroom for awhile.
“Hey, Naomi, you know you aren’t real, right?”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so brash and forward, but for the first time since she started working at the agency, it was just the two of them in the office and it just sort of… slipped out.
Naomi blinked, head slowly tilting to the side. “What?”
Ranpo cleared his throat, kind of nervous now. Funny, he typically didn’t get nervous. “Well, as you know I’m a master detective and… I realized right away that you were one of Tanizaki-kun’s illusions. I was just… wondering if you knew?”
Again, Naomi blinked, staring at Ranpo in something akin to horror.
“I—” she began, standing up, and Ranpo noticed her hands start to shake. “I—I am real. Brother wouldn’t lie… wouldn’t lie to me like that.”
Ranpo swallowed uneasily. He shouldn’t have said that. It was too late to go back, too late to pretend that he was just being an ass. The seed was already planted, and based on how quickly she got defensive, Ranpo guessed there was a part of her that always knew but was locked away until someone gave her the key.
“You’re lying to me,” she continued, pointing at him. “You’re lying. This isn’t funny.”
“I know,” he said so quietly he didn’t think Naomi heard him.
“Even if I-I wasn’t real, I would know! And that’s not how Light Snow works!” Naomi was hunched over now, a hand wrapped tightly around her stomach. “I’m real I’m real I’m real I’m real—”
Naomi fell to her knees, and screamed.
She pulled at her hair, yanking it out in clumps. “No no no!” she cried, eyes bulging. “I am real! I am!”
Shit. Jun’ichiro would have his head for this.
“Please don’t tell Tanizaki-kun,” he pleaded. “Please don’t tell him that I told you.” Ranpo wasn’t one to beg, but he also didn’t want to face Jun’ichiro’s wrath, didn’t want to somehow be the one to drive the Tanizakis out of the office. It wasn’t a fair request, but he was desperate and scared.
Naomi nodded through her sobs and hiccups. “I c-can’t… I’m real… I’m real, please…”
It wasn’t exactly a clear answer, but it was enough for now.
Ranpo stared at her for another minute, breathless. His stomach hurt—it twisted and burned with a vengeance. Her screams were loud and made his head hurt. He didn’t know what to do—he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. Him and his big mouth…
So, Ranpo did the only thing he could do.
He bolted.
He ran out of the office as fast as he could, away from the sobbing mess that was once his co-worker and away from his mistakes.
Because Ranpo wasn’t brave. He pretended to be brave, he acted as if he were brave. But deep down, he was just a monster. A weak, weak monster who ruined things and then ran away.
He burst into his apartment, collapsing onto his couch as soon as the door was closed.
His heart raced—thumping aggressively as if to say why why why.
Why would you say something?
Why did you hurt her?
Why are you so heartless?
Ranpo bit back a scream, shoving his face into the closest pillow.
He should’ve known better—he should’ve. But it just slipped out before he could think! He was just curious how she could live as a figment of Light Snow and not know. Shouldn’t she know? Would he know if he weren’t real?
The thought made bile slide down his throat, and he gagged, hacking into his pillow. Ranpo pinched the skin on his hand between his fingers. He squeezed and squeezed until it broke and blood trickled out.
That felt real—the pain was real pain (what was “real” pain?), the blood smelled like real blood.
“I’m… real…” he uttered, pinching harder still. “I’m not… I’m not fake.”
The confirmation did little to ease his nerves. If Naomi didn’t know she was an illusion, how would he know if he were one?
Ranpo didn’t sleep very much that night. When he did, he was haunted by the echoes of Naomi’s screams.
Unsurprisingly, Jun’ichiro called in sick to work the next day. Naomi did, too.
The next time Ranpo saw Jun’ichiro, Naomi was at his side, as cheerful and oblivious as ever.
It was a different Naomi that crossed the office threshold, though.
And that’s when it hit him, and suddenly Ranpo felt sick again. Jun’ichiro created a new Naomi every time she realized she’s an illusion. Perhaps it was naive of him to hope that nothing would change, that the new Naomi was a one time thing.
Ranpo made a point to pass by Jun’ichiro’s desk and clapping him on the back. “You look tired today, Tanizaki-kun,” he teased. “Late night?”
“You could say that,” Jun’ichiro replied, flashing Ranpo an exhausted smile. Then he turned back to his work, one eye on Naomi.
That was all he needed. Ranpo circled back to his desk. Okay, Jun’ichiro was polite with him, smiled at him—he didn’t know Ranpo told her. He figured that was the case since Jun’ichiro didn’t storm into his apartment or even glare at him, but the confirmation made his stomach stop twisting.
He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful Naomi kept it a secret. A part of him wanted to be yelled at, wanted Jun’ichiro to hurt him because he essentially got Naomi killed. But another part was relieved that no one knew, that the awful truth died in the mind of the now deceased Naomi. That way, he wouldn’t have to face it.
When Dazai and Yosano came back with Atsushi, Jun’ichiro, and Naomi’s unconscious bodies, Ranpo’s mind spun.
He’d known Yosano for a long time, he’d seen a lot of death and blood and injuries up close. He knew how this whole process works, and it didn’t move him anymore—it was just another part of the job. They knew what they were signing up for, and so did he.
But Naomi…
She was just an assistant. She wasn’t even real, was she actually injured? Was it possible for her to die? Nothing about Naomi made sense—it was infuriating.
Ranpo was out of his seat the second Yosano re-entered the office, crowding around her with the kids and other clerks.
“Atsushi-kun doesn’t need treatment,” Yosano assured the office once the three were stable, looking a little too glum about it. “His tiger form has some kind of self-healing ability. He just needs to rest for a bit. Now the Tanizakis on the other hand…” She grinned like a shark that smelled blood in the water.
“Are they okay?” Kenji asked, wringing his hands nervously. Ah, yeah. He was pretty close with Jun’ichiro.
Yosano made a so-so gesture. “I’ve already treated them, so they’re stable. Jun’ichiro’s injuries were bad, but I would’ve been able to save him without my ability. Naomi’s probably the worst off. She’ll be fine, though. No need to worry.” She ruffled Kenji’s hair. “All three of them should be up and running again in a few days.”
While everyone was distracted, Ranpo snuck into the infirmary. He knew it was Yosano’s space and blah blah blah, but he just… he needed to see Naomi for himself.
And there she was, lying on one of the beds. She was a bit pale, her hair was a mess, but most disconcerting of all was the blood.
Ranpo’s seen a lot of blood in his life—he’s no stranger to it. It didn’t scare him and he didn't get grossed out by it. But seeing Naomi’s bloodstained body… It was hard to believe she was healed, that Yosano just hadn’t had time to clean the blood away yet.
He shuddered, swallowing. Then, he reached out, hand shaking, and ran his finger along the blood on her arm. He brought his finger up to his nose and sniffed.
It certainly smelled real.
If that wasn’t enough, he reached for her again and placed his palm flat over her heart. And sure enough…
thump
thump
thump
It was unnervingly slow, but it was there and it was real.
Ranpo pulled his hand back to his chest, holding it closely. Then, he ran.
He ran out of the infirmary and into the bathroom, turning the sink on as hot as he could. The water burned his skin, but it also burned away the blood.
He didn’t understand.
He didn’t understand how Naomi had a heartbeat, how she bled just like everyone else. It made no sense, it was so far out of Ranpo’s realm of knowledge and he didn’t get it he didn’t get it he didn’t get it.
The blood washed away quickly, and he watched the pink water swirl around until it disappeared down the drain.
Ranpo wiped his shaking hands on his thighs, panting.
If Naomi died, she wouldn’t actually die because Jun’ichiro would just make her again. But she was bleeding but she had a heartbeat but her blood was warm but she’s not real she’s not real she’s not real she’s not—
Ranpo didn’t understand, and it scared him.
Naomi scared him.
Weeks later, he and Naomi were alone in the office again. Everyone else was out working on cases. He was supposed to be working on a case report, but it was so boring and he simply didn’t want to. Naomi was doing some paperwork and filing, so it was relatively quiet.
Every once in awhile, Ranpo would eye her suspiciously. It’s not that he didn’t trust her or anything. No, he was just a little uncomfortable being alone with her, especially after last time. He didn’t trust himself not to hurt her again.
(why did he even care? it wasn’t like she was real or anything…)
“Hey, Ranpo-san,” Naomi said breaking the silence as she rolled her chair closer to his desk, “do you know about how Dazai-san and Kunikida-san are—”
“—are hooking up,” he interrupted, closing his eyes and leaning back. “Yes, yes. Of course I know.”
Naomi laughed. “Well, I’d expect nothing less from you, Ranpo-san.” She paused. “But I think I may know something you don’t.”
Now that intrigued Ranpo—very rarely did others know more than him. “Oh?” He already knew about their secret relationship (they didn’t come close to being subtle), but if Naomi had details well… Ranpo wasn’t above office gossip.
“So, I stole one of Kunikida-san’s notebooks and—”
Ranpo’s eyes snapped open. “You managed to get one?” he cried, almost falling out of his chair. Naomi nodded, a mischievous smirk on her face as she pulled one of Kunikida’s ideals notebooks out of her pocket. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on that since he started working here! How’d you get it?”
“Did you know that Dazai-san trained me a bit? He wanted to make sure I could take care of myself if anything happened. He taught me all about how to steal and sneak around.” She giggled, opening it and flipping through the pages. “But I haven’t even told you the best part yet.” She stopped on a page about halfway through. “Kunikida-san wrote a make-out session with Dazai-san into his schedule for later today.”
Holy shit.
Ranpo lost it—he wheezed, grabbing his desk for support.
“Oh my God.” This might be the best day of Ranpo’s life. Okay, not really, but still.
“I know right!” Naomi exclaimed. “They’re actually kind of cute in a weird kind of way. And honestly, them hooking up or dating or whatever they’re doing makes their whole, you know, thing make a lot more sense!”
There was something Ranpo could add, something he’s been dying to share with someone and, well, he shouldn’t share it with Naomi, but she wasn’t real, right? The secret would die with her the next time Jun’ichiro remade her.
(and—yeesh, that was a terrible, disgusting thought… why did he kind of feel bad for thinking it?)
“… can you keep a secret?” he asked, leaning closer to Naomi. She nodded eagerly, miming zipping her lips shut. Ranpo hummed, glancing at the door to make sure no one was about to walk in. “Nakahara’s in on it, too.”
Naomi gasped. “Nakahara-san from the Port Mafia? No way.”
“Yes way,” Ranpo smirked, turning some pages. “Like… there! You see where it says ‘get some ginger with Dazai’ in the notebook?” He pointed to one of the last items of the day. “He’s probably too embarrassed about being in a relationship with someone from an enemy organization that he uses a pseudonym for Nakahara.”
And now Naomi was the one wheezing, gripping his arm to keep herself upright. “Oh my God!”
He couldn’t help but smile at Naomi’s reaction—most people in the office weren’t really big on gossip. Dazai liked it, but he always tried making stuff up and Yosano was trying to be more professional or something stupid like that. He didn’t know Naomi enjoyed it.
“I’ve known for awhile now, but I know Kunikida would flip if I told anyone. So, you have to keep this a secret.”
“Of course!”
Instead of doing work, Ranpo and Naomi spent the rest of the day gossiping about their co-workers. Well, they did until Kunikida and Atsushi returned and they got reprimanded for “wasting company time”. But Ranpo had fun, so much fun that he forgot that Naomi wasn’t real. Not only that, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care and he wasn’t scared or confused.
And for the first time, Ranpo saw the humanity in Naomi. She wasn’t a confusing monster anymore, she was… she was Naomi.
Huh, maybe Naomi wasn’t so bad after all.
“Did you guys hear about the earthquake that’s going to hit Tokyo?”
Ranpo looked up from his bag of chips at Atsushi’s words. Everyone else paused their work to glance at him.
He noticed Juni’chiro stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “An-an earthquake?” he squeaked.
Huh… was Jun’ichiro scared of earthquakes?
Atsushi nodded. “Yeah. I saw it on the news this morning. They said it’ll be there soon, but it shouldn’t be too bad. It’s going to be pretty mild, I think.”
Yosano whistled. “Yeesh, that’s rough. Hm. Maybe they’ll need me: there might be casualties.”
“You’re so morbid, Yosano-sensei,” Dazai complained, making exaggerated sounds of pain as both Yosano and Kunikida smacked the back of his head. “So meeeeeeean!”
“I-I have to go to the-the bathroom,” Jun’ichiro announced suddenly, pushing his chair back and nearly stumbling out of his seat.
Ranpo watched him go with narrowed eyes.
See, it’s not that he wanted to be able to figure out what was wrong as easily as he did, sometimes it really sucked. It was an invasion of privacy, in a way. But Ranpo couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. The realization itched his skin, burned under his flesh.
Everything came together in a flash, and Ranpo was out of his seat, too. “Yeah, I also have to piss,” he said, darting out of the room before anyone could say anything.
He found Jun’ichiro on the platform of one of the rarely used staircases. His head was between his knees, his back shaking.
“It was an earthquake, wasn’t it?” he asked softly, sliding down the wall until he was next to Jun’ichiro, their knees lightly touching. “One where you grew up that killed the real Naomi.”
Jun’ichiro sucked in a breath. “How long have you k-known?”
“Since the minute I first met you guys. They don’t call me the master detective for nothing.” He paused, heart heavy as Jun’ichiro continued to fight against the imminent panic attack. “I didn’t pry or anything, I swear. It kind of just… came to me. I haven’t told anyone, though.”
Jun’ichiro laughed, a crazed and broken sound. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out. You really are amazing, Ranpo-san.” He swiped at his nose. “I didn’t know she was an illusion at first. I just… created her that night.” He looked up, his eyes drained and empty, as if he were gazing back at a memory. “I kept talking to her, and she responded. So I figured…”
His breath hitched, and then neon green flakes of snow began to fall down on them.
Life materialized around them; a street filled with potholes, cars speeding past, children laughing in the alleys. A young Jun’ichiro and Naomi ran past them, shouting and giggling.
Jun’ichiro stood and stumbled after his younger self. Ranpo followed.
A cool breeze brushed by them, ruffling their hair and clothes. It all felt so real, and not for the first time, Ranpo was amazed by Jun’ichiro’s ability. Light Snow was one of the few things that could truly shock and impress him no matter how many times he witnessed it.
This was the first time he’s actually been in an illusion, though. It was so real that it almost fooled him into thinking he was really there. Almost.
“I was ten,” Jun’ichiro said, taking a step forward. His face was blank, almost as if he was mesmerized by his own creation, “when the earthquake hit.”
A loud rumbling pierced his ears, and Ranpo cried out, covering them with his hands. It was a bad sound, like a really loud static. Rocks and debris fell around them, crushing anything and everything. Buildings crumbled, streets were torn apart, and the rumbling got louder and louder, overwhelming not just his ears but Ranpo’s entire body.
The ground shook, and he toppled over, landing on his side. Somehow, it didn’t hurt. Dust filled the air, and if the noise couldn’t get worse, piercing screams joined in. Genuine fear filled Ranpo’s heart as pieces of the world broke around him, above him… he covered his head with his hands.
All Ranpo could do was cower, muttering, “this isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real…” over and over to try to calm himself down. But that still wasn’t enough.
He couldn’t see Jun’ichiro anymore, but he was somehow able to pick up a soft, agonized whimpering to his right, and Ranpo knew it was him.
So, he ducked his head and began crawling towards the sound, gritting his teeth as the noise got louder and louder. No, he had to keep going. This wasn’t real, but Jun’ichiro was, and he was suffering somewhere.
He wasn’t sure how long the earthquake lasted, how long he searched for Jun’ichiro, but it felt like ages before the shaking finally stopped and Ranpo remembered what it meant to be still. He blinked through the dust as he pushed himself to his feet.
The air was lighter now, like it was before. The breeze was back, a soft breath, a gentle heartbeat washing over Ranpo, soothing his tense and anxious body. The calm didn’t last long.
Everything was in shambles. The scent of blood and death clogged his nose, bodies littered the ground.
There were hundreds of them, some trapped, some crushed, some with severed limbs. Ranpo swallowed back the bile that was creeping up his throat.
“I broke an arm and some ribs. Naomi…”
Ranpo jumped, whipping around at the voice. His relief only lasted a second, though. Jun’ichiro was leaning heavily against a chunk of wall still standing, clutching his left arm which was unnaturally bent. Blood dripped down his face, bits of debris clung to his skin.
Jun’ichiro took a step forward, eyes wide and glassy, and he took another step. And another. Slowly limping past Ranpo and into what was once the street.
The wind was colder now, the clouds greyer, and the sky darker. Ranpo wrapped his arms around his chest. Jun’ichiro just kept walking, undeterred by the weather.
There it was: Naomi’s limp, bloodied body. The young, broken, and bruised Jun’ichiro was at her side, shaking her, screaming her name. He screamed until his voice gave out.
“Jun’ichiro—” Ranpo reached for him, but his fingers only grasped air. It was like Jun’ichiro couldn’t even hear him.
Then Naomi sat up, covered in dirt and grime, but alive. Her eyes flashed a bright green, and when Ranpo looked closer, he saw faint, green lines on her skin, almost like lichtenberg figures. He watched curiously as the lines slowly fade into nothingness.
“I don’t know how I created her,” Jun’ichiro continued, and the world shifted with his words. The mess left by the earthquake was cleaned up, and although the sun returned, it was still dark and cold.
Children were playing in the streets again, laughing and screaming with delight. Ranpo took a shaky step forward, stumbling as he attempted to re-orient himself. He wobbled after Jun’ichiro, squinting.
The scared, injured children were gone. Naomi was now running down the sidewalk with a joyous smile.
“Hey, wait for me!” the younger Jun’ichiro cried, chasing after his sister, laughing carelessly. “Naomi!”
They pushed through crowds of people, Naomi teasing Jun’ichiro until he managed to catch up and grab her hand.
The illusion was so alluring, so addicting that it was hard to tear his gaze away from the scene, and when Ranpo finally managed to turn back to Jun’ichiro, he was met with distant eyes, staring longingly at the past.
“She just appeared. I still don’t really know how I do it. I’ve never been able to make anything like her before no matter how hard I try.”
Ranpo reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. “Jun’ichiro—”
The world shattered as soon as Ranpo touched him. Everything exploded into thousands of tiny pieces around them, falling to the ground and melting into nothing.
Just like snow.
Ranpo returned to reality breathless and dizzy. His back hit the wall with a dull thud, his heart racing erratically. He held a hand to his chest, trying to reorient himself to reality.
He touched his cheek, the wall behind him, felt his chest for his heartbeat.
They were back at the office. He blinked dazedly at the old stairs, at the tan walls, and the red railing. They were back, they weren’t there. Everything was fine, nothing was destroyed.
Jun’ichiro was on the ground, trembling once more. His arm was back to normal, but his eyes were sunken, yet were also wild and terrified.
His breaths were getting faster and faster. Jun’ichiro grabbed his hair and pulled, just like Naomi had all those months ago.
Shit, Jun’ichiro was having a panic attack. Should he run and get someone? Dazai was good at this kind of stuff, so were Yosano and Fukuzawa… no, that would take too long, and Ranpo didn’t want to leave him alone.
Ranpo dropped to his knees, hesitantly reaching out. “Jun’ichiro,” he called, the name tasted foreign, but right, “I need you to breathe.”
“I-I-I-I—”
“Um, try breathing with me, okay? In for four…” Ranpo inhaled deeply, exaggerating the sound so Jun’ichro could hear. “Out for eight…” He slowly released the air. He inhaled again, smiling in relief when Juni’ichiro followed suit, then let it out.
They breathed together for a couple minutes, only stopping once Jun’ichiro’s eyes flickered closed and he leaned back against the wall. “Th-Thank you,” he whispered. “Didn’t… didn’t expect you to be g-good at this…”
Ranpo chuckled lightly. “Fukuzawa did this with me when I was younger,” he admitted. “Thought it was stupid at first, but it works.”
Jun’ichiro snorted, his lips quirking into a small smile. It fell almost immediately, though. He opened his eyes, diverting his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry you had to see that and for dragging you into it,” he muttered. “I haven’t had an incident like that in a long time.”
“Did it happen a lot?”
“Eh,” Juni’ichiro hummed, making a so-so gesture. “It did for the first couple months after the earthquake, but it settled down after that. Sometimes loud noises would trigger it or nightmares… it got b-better with time. All Men Are Equal helps, but I think the mention of an earthquake was just too much for me.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah…” Jun’ichiro trailed off, then paused, looking up to squint at Ranpo. “Are… are you okay? I know it can be kind of sc-scary.”
Was he okay? Ranpo blinked, then pressed two fingers to his wrist to feel his pulse. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied. “I was more worried for you anyways. Are you okay?”
Jun’ichiro shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
That was a concerning deflection, but that was an issue for another time. Right now, he needed to address the elephant in the room since it was weighing on both their minds.
“This may not mean much,” Ranpo began, shifting uncomfortably, “but… she’s real to me, even though I know.”
Junichiro turned to him. “Y-yeah?”
He nodded. “I didn’t like her at first. I even told her she was an illusion once.”
Jun’ichiro’s eyes widened. “You—”
“I don’t regret much, but I regret doing that,” he admitted. “She’s as real as you or me. Every version of her. Honestly, I’d say she’s one of my friends, like the younger sister I never had.”
And she was. It took awhile for Ranpo to realize it—to process and accept it—but she was. She gossiped with him, took extra long lunch breaks with him, never got frustrated when he blurted things out (he learned that Naomi liked spoilers, which was nice because Ranpo didn’t have to watch what he said around her). They were a lot alike in certain ways.
“I wish you could’ve met her,” Jun’ichiro sighed. “Like, b-before she died. She would’ve loved you.”
His breath hitched and tears began to well up in his eyes. “S-sorry.”
“Take the rest of the day off,” Ranpo said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll tell everyone you’re sick. Read, play some video games, sleep… whatever you do to relax. Oh, and make sure you eat, okay?” He extended a hand to Jun’ichiro and helped him up.
“Are you sure? I-I can still work—”
“No,” Ranpo interrupted. “You just had a bad panic attack. It’s okay to take a mental health day—we all need them in this line of business. Do you want to be with Naomi or would that make things worse?”
“I need to see her.”
And it dawned on him, why Naomi was so attached to Jun’ichiro. Why she always seemed to hold his arms or drape herself on his lap. He was scared of losing her, so his subconscious drew Naomi to him.
All this time, he rolled his eyes at the affection, told them to knock it off, when really, they were just two traumatized teenagers coping in whatever ways they could.
“I’ll get her,” he said. “And if anyone says anything, I’ll prank the hell out of them, piss ‘em off so much they forget.”
“You’d do that anyway,” Jun’ichiro laughed. The sound made Ranpo smile.
“That’s true, Dazai-kun could use a good pranking. Do you want me to walk you back to your apartment?”
Jun’ichiro shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I think I need a second to myself. N-Not that I don’t like your company, Ranpo-san! I just—”
“Shush, you’re fine. I get it.” Ranpo stretched his arms above his head. “I’ll send Naomi your way when I get back to the office. Text me when you get home. And… I know I’m not the best person to talk to, but call or text me if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything, no matter how stupid it sounds.”
Tears filled Jun’ichiro’s eyes once again, but Ranpo knew they were happy, relieved tears. “Thank you, Ranpo-san.”
Ranpo awoke to his phone ringing. He scowled, blindly reaching for it. When he managed to hit it, he brought his phone to his ear. “What’d you want this early?” he grumbled.
There was silence on the other end. Then, a faint, heavy breathing sounded. “Ranpo-san?”
It was Jun’ichiro, though he didn’t sound like he usually did. His voice was higher pitched than normal and he sounded like he was fighting back tears.
He sat up, suddenly very awake. “Jun’ichiro? What’s wrong?”
It was just the sound of his borderline frantic breathing for a few more seconds before—
“Can you come over? I’m… scared.”
Ranpo never heard Jun’ichiro sound so small before, never heard him sound so young. Sometimes, he forgot how young everyone was. Sometimes, he hated that he remembered. “I’m on my way,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Hang tight.”
He heard a muffled sob on the other end followed by a quiet thank you, and then nothing. Jun’ichiro hung up.
All Ranpo bothered grabbing on his way out were his keys.
And as he ran, all he could think was, he’s eighteen—he’s only eighteen.
The door was unlocked when he reached Jun’ichiro’s apartment. Ranpo knocked curtly to let Jun’ichiro know he was there, then opened the door.
Jun’ichiro was on the ground, sitting on his knees with his forehead pressed against the floor. His hands were clenched in fists so tight his skin lost some of its color.
“Jun’ichiro, hey!” he cried, falling to his own knees and placing a hand on his back.
And when Jun’ichiro lifted his head and Ranpo saw his red, puffy, teary eyes, he knew.
“You had to do it again?”
Jun’ichiro nodded, almost pitifully. “She keeps… she-she-she keeps figuring it out,” he choked, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. “No matter what-what I do, she always figures it out. I feel like I’m killing her over and over again. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. It hu-hu-hurts so much.”
“You never killed her in the first place,” he whispered instantly. “It was an earthquake. Not you.”
His words seemed to go in one ear and out the other.
“I know this isn’t healthy, but I can’t just stop. I’ve never lived without Naomi. I don’t know how.”
Ranpo’s heart clenched at the desperation, at the hopelessness in his voice. And he wished there was something he could do, wished he could magically make things better. But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do except be present and love them both.
“Jun’ichiro, hey, look at me. We’re gonna breathe together, okay? In for four and out for…”
Jun’ichiro hiccuped. “Eight.”
They breathed together, Ranpo’s loud breaths guiding Jun’ichiro’s shaky ones.
He calmed down after the third time, slumping over and leaning on Ranpo. “S-Sorry.”
“Hey, no, shhh, none of that,” Ranpo said. “You don’t need to apologize, remember? So I better not hear ‘sorry’ again. Can I touch you?” When Jun’ichiro nodded, Ranpo gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him closer so he was pressed against his side.
“You’re okay,” he mumbled, running a hand through Jun’ichiro’s hair. “You’re okay. You didn’t kill her. You’re safe. You aren’t there.”
Eventually, Jun’ichiro fell asleep, hugging Ranpo’s arm tightly. It was kind of uncomfortable, but Ranpo couldn’t find it in him to care. He sighed, resting his head on top of Jun’ichiro’s. He was grateful that he called him, that he didn’t deal with it alone again.
They’d grown closer ever since they were trapped in Light Snow together. A couple days after Jun’ichiro’s breakdown, Ranpo told him the story of how he met Fukuzawa. The full story, not the watered down, ‘friendship is magic’ story everyone else was told.
“Now we’re even,” he’d said. “I know your story, you know mine.”
Jun’ichiro would have to tell everyone eventually, they both knew it, but they had each other for now and that was okay. Ranpo knows what it was like to be scared. He knew the fear of everyone leaving nce they know what you’ve done, who you are. And he knows that no one will hate Jun’ichiro for coping, he can’t blame him for bringing Naomi back to life every time.
So, he held Jun’ichiro the rest of the night because that’s what big brothers did.