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His head was spinning. There was a sharp pain and a pulse in his hand, and it was warm and wet with blood.
What happened?
There was an ache in Ranpo’s chest as he tried to sit up from his position practically face down on the ground. That’s right. From the butt of Fukuchi’s sword hitting him square in the ribs and knocking him out. He didn’t grab Poe’s booklet in time.
But why was he still on the ground? Shouldn’t he have been kidnapped by now? Or killed? He’s definitely been out for too long by now.
With shaky arms pushed underneath him, he lifted himself slowly, arms trembling and pain coursing through his body. He’s got to get back to Fukuzawa. If he grabs the book fast enough, they can go through with the plan. Maybe he can catch Fukuchi off guard. Maybe…
It was too late.
Ranpo felt his voice catch in his throat. Fukuchi’s feet were the first thing in his vision, and just beyond them on the ground, lying in a pool of blood, as still as the ground itself—
“ FUKUZAWA!”
The blood curdling scream sent alarm bells through the man’s head, and he sat up abruptly from where he laid and practically sprinted towards the voice.
Something was wrong. He was in danger. Fukuzawa was sure he had checked to make sure the place was secure beforehand. All the doors were locked and no one could come in. The building was brand new and there wasn’t anyone who would target them already, would they?
He finally made it to the room and slammed the door open with a loud thud .
“Ranpo! Is everything alright?!”
The sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Fourteen-year-old Ranpo Edogawa was huddled under his futon, the big bundle shaking slightly. His slippers were askew, and one of them was thrown across the room. The window was slightly open, and there was a very faint bzzzzzz in the dimly lit room.
“Ranpo?”
“There’s a bug and I can’t get it!”
The sigh that the 32 year old let out was unbelievably loud, so much so that Ranpo whined from under the blanket.
“Please!”
“I’m getting it,” Fukuzawa promised in an exasperated tone as he scooped the bug into his hands gently and impressively, and guided it back out the window.
A pause of silence.
“Is it gone?”
“Yes, Ranpo.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ranpo.”
“Promise?”
“Ranpo-“
“ Promise?”
Fukuzawa sighed. Raising kids is hard; he didn’t understand how parents did this so willingly and so readily. But he’s getting used to it—and he’s already gotten kind of a soft spot for the kid.
“I promise.”
And finally, the teenager crawled out from underneath his covers, looking around timidly like the tiny bug was on its way back in just to terrorize him for the rest of the night. It was almost endearing, in a somewhat annoying way. It had to be almost midnight by now. Fukuzawa wanted to sleep more than anything, but he prioritized the well-being of the shaken kid first.
“Do you think you can go back to sleep now?” he tried, giving Ranpo a gentle look. The boy pondered for a minute before he shrugged. And then,
“Can I have a snack?”
So, they walked through the almost entirely empty building to the small kitchen area downstairs. All of the rooms had yet to be occupied, but Fukuzawa hoped that, soon, he’d be homing a full, strong Armed Detective Agency. One that would protect people. And protect Ranpo.
They were only in the kitchen for a matter of seconds before Ranpo was crouching slightly and opening their tiny, busted-up fridge.
“Hmm… who took the last ramune?”
“You had it earlier,” Fukuzawa offered. That earned a noise of disappointment from Ranpo, and he settled on a pudding.
“Finish it and then get to sleep. I have plans tomorrow, and I don’t want you to be too tired.” Well, c ranky was his first choice of words, but he still settled on being polite.
“What plans?” Ranpo prodded as he fed himself a spoonful of tapioca.
“Just some errands.”
“Like what?” he pushed.
A sigh. “Errands for the agency.”
“Shopping?”
“No. More like meetings.”
Ranpo made a small sound that sounded something like a ‘ boooo’ , causing Fukuzawa to raise his eyebrow at the boy. Ranpo shoved the spoon in his mouth before continuing, “No fun. I’ll stay home.”
“No, you can’t just—“ But Fukuzawa stopped.
He stopped because what Ranpo said caught him off guard. Because even if they’d been here for a little bit now—a few months or so—the boy had never considered it more than a bed and a place to sleep. This was the first time Ranpo openly acknowledged a sense of comfort from the shoddy, empty building. This was the first time Ranpo had called it home . Fukuzawa wasn’t sure if it was a slip of the tongue or not, but judging by the way the tips of Ranpo’s ears burned red and he tucked in on himself a little bit, he had definitely realized what he’d said.
And Fukuzawa couldn’t help but smile a little bit and chuckle, and he didn’t even bother continuing to bicker with Ranpo anymore.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
And they went their separate ways, to their own bedrooms, in their little home. And Fukuzawa dreamed of their little family, and he dreamed of comfort and safety for Ranpo. And he slept so peacefully that he slept through his alarm. So he awoke to the sound of Ranpo shaking him, telling him to get up.
That’s right. He had errands to run. They had to go out that day. He had to get up. Ranpo shook him again.
“Get up! Get up! C’mon!”
Hot tears hit the bloody pavement as weak screams echoed through the empty area. Cruelly, the man with the bloody sword stood and watched.
“Hey! Get up! Why are you just lying there?! We have to go! Get up!”
Ranpo’s screams were bloodcurdling. Not many people can say they’ve had a father die twice. Few can say they’ve been orphaned twice. At twenty-six years old, Ranpo Edogawa was coming to the harsh realization that he was alone again. The man he knew as his father was taken away.
And his murderer stood and watched.
“ FUKUZAWA!”