Chapter Text
Why was he in America again? He didn’t know. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d lived on the streets, but something like that is a part of your life you can never really forget. Everybody was stupid back then, and they still are now. But this time he’s stupid too. He could look at a stranger and know everything about them with only a glance, yet he couldn't tell you anything past his name.
Ranpo Edogawa,
Ranpo Edogawa,
Ranpo.
Who was Ranpo? What did he do? How did he act? What kind of hobbies did he have? He spent the past few weeks squatting in random houses, sleeping on benches, or on the grass in the park. It was his normal rotation of places, nobody bothered him, and nobody shot at him. Sometimes some police officers would kick him out of the park or business owners would shoo him away from the benches near their stores, but otherwise he was mostly okay.
Key word, mostly. The main issue he was facing at the moment was a language barrier. He couldn’t ask for help, or food, or money. He struggled to converse with other homeless people, luckily it was still pretty easy for him to deduce the message they were trying to convey, but Ranpo would rather spend his time solving mysteries instead of whether the man yelling at him was trying to protect his cigarettes or warning him that the lady behind him was about to stab him with a used heroin needle.
‘Homeless people in Japan are so much more civilized.’ He thought, pulling out his notebook. The small notebook read:
Ranpo Edogawa
-male
-short-ish
-only reads, writes, and speaks in a language different from others.
"That was it– that’s where I'm from.” Ranpo felt stupid for taking so long to recognize his own language, but for the past month he’d been speaking a language he didn’t know the name of.
He crossed off a line in his notebook.
Ranpo Edogawa
-male
-short-ish
-only reads, writes, and speaks in a language different from others.
-Japanese
That's why he feels so out of place. He’s a foreigner. It was pretty easy to figure out where he was, but not where he’s from.
Americans have the tendency to put their flag on just about everything over 4 feet off the floor, so it wasn’t difficult. He wasn’t completely sure where in the United States he was, but he had known it was somewhere on the coast, since he spent a lot of time wandering around the beach. Though judging by the fact that Halloween decorations were going up and he just passed a heat warning sign, he was probably somewhere in California.
Ranpo Edogawa
-male
-short-ish
-only reads, writes, and speaks in a language different from others.
-Japanese
-In California (?) United States of America.
Did he feel guilty for stealing random people's food on the beach? Probably should, but he could barely scrape up enough money for more than a small bottle of water, so it had to do. “Excuse me! Are you a lost kid? I’ve seen you wandering about for the past couple of days taking food from people. That doesn’t seem like what most people would want to spend their time at the beach doing.”
‘Who was this guy? Why was he talking to me? He looks concerned, he might be looking for something.’
“ Eh, uh, I…” God this was hard.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m just worried.”
‘His sandals are really worn out, he’s probably been here for at least a few days, wetsuit and surfboard, definitely a surfer. His forehead seems to0 tense for regular concern, probably a bit hungover, dehydrated. He was probably up all night partying at the beach–
shit.
'He probably saw me steal something– play stupid, play stupid.'
“Eh, sagashiteimasu ka.. d–directionu?”
“Huh? Do you not speak english? HEY MARCUS, come over here and translate for me.” An Chinese man walked over at the other man's call, seemingly in his early 30’s, similar to the other man. “Dude are you stupid, he’s Japanese–” The two went back and forth while Ranpo used this time to try and slip away. Unfortunately these people weren’t completely hopeless.
“Wait! Uh,” He started to talk slower and wave his arm around to try and charade what he wanted to say.
“Do, you, know, where, your, parents, are?” He struck odd poses, but they got his message across.
Ranpo stared at him blankly. He understood what he asked him, but he wasn’t a child right? His last memories were from when he was about 17-ish, he had just won a solving battle with an awesome detective. That was, he thinks, about maybe 4–5 years ago. He was at least 19, and he was an orphan! He wouldn’t have an answer to that question anyway.
“Uh, dead.” He said oddly perky and stared at them hoping to scare them off a bit. What he was not hoping for was pity.
“Oh, oh no. So you’re homeless? Ya think he can live with us?” Marcus asked, crossing his arms and observing him.
“I don’t see why not, since Ed’s book took off we’ve been living in that massive house, might as well fill it.” The other responded.
He didn’t really know what they said then, but he heard something recognized.
Ed.
That was the name of the boy he competed with! “You guys know Poe? Can I talk to him? He speaks Japanese, he can help!”
The two men stared at him with a confused look. Then they gave a gesture that resembled something of a “follow us” and began to walk. “So what do you think Ken, is this kid like an immigrant or something?” Marcus asked. “I don’t know, he barely speaks any English, but he seems to understand us well.” Ranpo tapped Ken on the back. “Poe wa watashitachi ga iku tokoro ni irudeshou ka?” The two Americans stared at each other trying to decipher what he asked. “Are you asking about Edgar? Marcus asked him.
Ranpo sped up his space to walk between the two taller men.
“Yes!” Ranpo exclaimed. Edgar , Edgar Allen Poe! That was the name of the man he fought in Japan! It can’t just be a coincidence can it? “Oh, he’ll probably be holed up in his room, but he keeps the money flowing so we can’t really get mad at him for it.” Ken explained. “I can. Why live at the beach if you’re not going to go to the beach!?” Marcus complained.
Ranpo wasn’t paying attention to them anymore, as long as he could talk to Poe, he’d be able to communicate better. The three of them approached the house, it was sleek and modern, not at all the kind of house Ranpo expected Ed to live in, but it was big and spacious. Nothing but a small space of parking separated the house and the sand.
“Ed! Come down here we have a guest.” Marcus yelled upon opening the door. Ranpo waited awkwardly, removing his shoes at the entrance. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, upstairs is only a no-shoe area because the sand is a pain.” Ken tried to explain, but Ranpo just looked up at the stairs to wait for Poe. After about a minute Marcus called again and Ranpo heard the door creak open. There he was, Edgar Allen Poe, the only detective who was able to keep up with him.
“Poe! You remember me right? I need your help!” Ranpo exclaimed. Edgar wasn’t as thrilled to see him, at least not on the outside. “Ranpo? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Japan? I’m not ready for you here yet!” He cried. “Woah, Ed you speak Japanese? I didn’t know that! Help us out here, what’s he saying?” Ken asked.
“Why would you two bring him here? I had a whole speech prepared for how I wanted our reunion to go and you’ve ruined it!”
“Wait, you know him? We found him wandering aimlessly on the beach stealing peoples snacks and fighting with that crack addict down the street over a dollar.” Marcus explained, Ken nodding along.
“What? Ranpo doesn’t get into fights, he’s a detective. I’m willing to bet he was able to decipher what you’ve been saying without even speaking the language.” Poe explained, crossing his arms triumphantly like an artist displaying his creation. “He has been pretty good at that for someone who doesn’t speak English.” Ken remarked.
Poe rushed down the stairs and grabbed Ranpo by the hand to yank him into his room. He slammed the door behind him and flopped down on his chair, shuffling frantically through his papers.
“Poe! I’m so happy to see you again! Listen, I know this is going to sound odd, but I lost like a big chunk of my memory, and I can’t figure out what happened within that time–” Poe stilled.
“You, Ranpo Edogawa, can’t figure something out?” Poe stared at him with disbelief.
“I know, it’s stupid. I can name 100 things about everybody around me, but this is all I know about myself.” Ranpo threw his notebook down onto Poe’s table.
Ranpo Edogawa
-male
-short-ish
-only reads, writes, and speaks in a language different from others.
-Japanese
-In California (?) United States of America.
“You lost your memory to the point you didn’t know what language you were speaking? Or where you were from?” Poe looked over what little notes he had on himself and picked up a pen.
“Well I can tell you what I know.” Poe actually knew everything about him, where he spent his free time, where he worked, what shampoo he used on his hair, the snacks he ate, the books he read, every case he’s worked on in the past 6 years, but he couldn’t tell him that. He couldn’t tell anybody for that matter– they wouldn’t understand why Ranpo was so important to him.
So, Poe decided to withhold some information.
Ranpo Edogawa
-male
-short-ish
- 5’5 - 5’6
-only reads, writes, and speaks in a language different from others.
-Japanese
-25 years old
-Detective
-In California (?) United States of America.
- Beach
“Hang on, 25!? Why am I so old!?” Ranpo exclaimed, grabbing the book. “Well you’re two years younger then I am, and if I’m 28 then you must be 25.” Poe explained. “The memory loss must mess with my perception of time, I remember our battle like it was just a couple years ago, there’s no way it’s been over half a decade.”
“You remember our battle?” Poe’s eyes widened, like a new light had been shone onto Ranpo.
“Of course! I’d never forget such a great case, or such a great detective. You’re the only person who’s ever been able to keep up with me. It was amazing, just the two of us going back and forth pitching our idea’s until one of us came up with the right answer.” Ranpo gave Poe a larger, earnest smile, way more honest than he’d ever imagined.
It was so odd, for 6 years, he imagined Ranpo’s smile as much more smug, his was the grin of someone who genuinely enjoyed his company. ‘He must be messing with me’ Poe thought. “Well you haven’t lost all your memory since you still remember me, and you remember some worldly events, so it’s more like large gaps.” He sighed.
“I remember everything from when I was living on the street as a child, and then that's when the gaps begin. I know I lived in a real house during my later teen years, but I can’t remember where or with who.” Ranpo explained.
“Well, for now, I guess you can live with me– it wouldn’t make sense to send you back to the streets when we have 5 guest rooms. Feel free to pick one and decorate it to your liking, we can do some research later.” Poe cleared his throat and extended his hand out to the door.
“Thanks Poe!” Ranpo said, peaking his tongue out of his mouth with a smile. He skipped out of the room, leaving Edgar to finish his novel.