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Fukuzawa was an Alpha — and an assassin who worked for the government.
A man like him was not meant to have a family. An assassin with pups? Yeah… as if.
He could help them when they needed it. He could guide them, protect them for a time, even offer kindness when circumstances allowed.
But that was all he could ever be — just a man lending a hand before walking away again.
He would never possess those instincts people spoke of. That overwhelming, instinctive drive to protect someone at the cost of his own life.
Even as he tried to become a better man, he believed there was something missing inside him — something essential.
He could never truly care for others more than he cared for his own survival.
…At least, that was what he used to think.
Fukuzawa had expected this case to be simple. Routine, even.
When he stepped into the office, however, the sight that greeted him was anything but orderly.
Papers were layed across the entire floor.
A man — the assistant — was kneeling among the documents laying them out neatly across the floor. As he worked, he explained the situation, his voice tight with nerves.
He said he hoped Fukuzawa could help find the murderer.
According to him, the young assassin who had supposedly committed the crime was waiting in the next room.
Carefully stepping around the papers, Fukuzawa crossed the office and moved toward the door on the opposite side. If the child truly was there, then speaking with him directly would reveal the truth soon enough.
Just as he reached the door, another boy entered the room.
He looked young — a Beta dressed in black. His eyes were squinted slightly, giving him a sharp, unimpressed expression.
The young Beta began complaining almost immediately.
He grumbled about the strange position of the building, about how inconvenient it was… and most of all about how hungry he was.
Soon enough, he and the secretary fell into a short back-and-forth argument, their conversation sharp and quick. Fukuzawa simply stood there, watching the exchange unfold in silence.
Unlike Fukuzawa, the boy paid no attention to the papers covering the floor. He walked straight across them without hesitation and headed for the window.
He opened it.
Immediately, a rush of wind swept into the office, sending the loose documents flying through the air in a chaotic storm of paper. Easily finding the permit he had been looking for.
Only then did the boy calmly walk over and sit down at the desk. As if the mess meant nothing to him at all.
Resting his chin lightly in his hand, he spoke in a voice that was far to lively for the situation, but yet it was so certain with the kind of confidence hard to question.
The assistant was the one who killed the CEO.
Then suddenly— From the room beside them, the young assassin made his move.
The door burst open as the child attempted to escape.
Fukuzawa reacted instantly, moving to intercept him.
What followed was a brief but intense clash. Despite Fukuzawa’s skill, the boy managed to evade every strike the Alpha made. Each movement was precise, slipping past his attacks with surprising agility.
At one point, the boy even used the momentum of one of Fukuzawa’s own movements against him, twisting his body and launching himself toward the doorway.
In the blink of an eye, he shot out of the room— A gunshot rang out.
The assistant collapsed, dead before he even hit the floor.
Before the young assassin dropped his guns, he spoke in an eerily calm voice.
“There’s no forgiveness in this world,” he said. “Only those who take revenge.”
For a moment, the office fell into silence.
Fukuzawa let out a slow breath before looking toward the young Beta. “Call the police,” he instructed. “And an ambulance.”
The boy answered immediately, his voice casual. “That won’t be necessary. An ambulance, I mean. The secretary is already dead.”
Fukuzawa sighed heavily. His gaze drifted toward the body on the floor, then back to the boy standing nearby.
The calmness in the Beta’s voice bothered him more than the corpse itself.
Something about it felt wrong to the Alpha.
No child should watch someone collapse in front of them and remain so completely unaffected. No child should be that numb to cruelty.
After the police arrived, they began handling the scene and arrested the young assassin. Fukuzawa decided there was something he needed to do.
He turned to the young Beta. “Come with me,” he said. Not long after, the two of them left the building together.
Fukuzawa brought him to a small restaurant nearby. It wasn’t anything special, just a quiet place where they could sit and talk.
Once they were seated, he ordered food for the boy.
This time, he intended to properly discuss what had happened.
Because there were still things about the situation that didn’t quite add up to the man.
The boy’s voice was casual as he asked for more food, already halfway through his meal. Fukuzawa watched him quietly from across the table.
“Why don’t you eat the rice cake?” he asked, his gaze lingering on the untouched portion.
“It’s not sweet enough for my palate.”
Fukuzawa studied him for a moment before continuing. “When did you realize the secretary was the murderer?”
“From the beginning,” the boy answered without hesitation. “The secretary was wearing a coat. When have you ever seen someone sorting documents while sweating in a coat? The sleeves would just get in the way. He was hiding tools — probably to fake the assassin’s fingerprints.”
Fukuzawa nodded slightly. “Pretty smart, boy,” he said.
The boy’s expression sharpened instantly. “My name is Ranpo Edogawa. Not ‘boy.’ You’d better remember that.”
The two continued talking with each other for a little while longer, with fukuzawa asking the boy questions about himself as the child explained his situation.
Eventually once the boy had his full fukuzawa reached for the bill to pay, when the beta put his hand over the alphas looking at him.
“So that’s it?” Ranpo said. “You talk to a homeless fourteen-year-old who lost his parents, his job, and his future… and that’s all you’ve got?”
Fukuzawa paused. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to him.
“What’s this?”
“My contact information,” Fukuzawa replied. “Security work — I’m essentially a bodyguard. If you’re ever in trouble, contact me. I’ll help you. Free of charge… the first time or so.”
Ranpo took the card. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away.
Fukuzawa watched him go. “…Wait—” He started to call out, but before he could finish, his phone rang.
Fukuzawa answered it. “Hello?”
“I need help, Mr. Bodyguard.” It was Ranpo. “I don’t have a job or a place to stay. I’m afraid I’m going to die out here.”
Fukuzawa exhaled slowly. Then he walked over to the nearby phone Ranpo was using.
“I’m heading to work right now,” he said. “Come with me. My client is looking for extra manpower. I can work something out, if you’d like.”
As he spoke, he picked up Ranpo’s jacket and held it out to him. “Does that work for you?”
Ranpo’s expression brightened instantly. “It sure does!”
Fukuzawa brought Ranpo to a theater where he had been hired to investigate a murder threat.
He explain to the boy everything — about the staff shortage, and how, if things went well, he might be able to arrange work for the boy.
Once inside, the head of the theater began giving them instructions, telling them they still had time before the performance and should investigate anything unusual.
Fukuzawa stepped forward, asking the woman a series of standard questions — where the threats had come from, what exactly had been said, and what he should be watching for.
Behind them, Ranpo sat lazily on the stairs, listening. After a while, he spoke. “I’ve already figured it out. One of the actors is going to be killed.”
The woman froze, only just noticing his presence. “…Who is this child?” she asked.
Fukuzawa answered calmly. “He’s with me. He’s currently looking for work.”
He paused briefly before adding, “I recall you mentioning a staff shortage. I was hoping you might be willing to consider him for a position once this situation is resolved.”
The woman studied Ranpo for a moment. “…Send me his resume,” she said at last. “I’ll review it with the others.”
Ranpo tilted his head, muttering under his breath. “With other applicants, I won’t stand a chance…”
Then, louder— “You’ve already decided not to hire me, haven’t you?”
The woman stiffened slightly. Ranpo continued, unfazed. “Adults never say what they really mean. You’re doing the same thing right now.”
He gestured lightly. “You’re also limiting the information you’re giving him. And you haven’t introduced him to the police either.”
A small pause. “You want him to keep an eye on the police… and the police to keep an eye on him.”
Ranpo leaned back slightly, finishing flatly— “In other words… you don’t trust anyone, do you?”
Fukuzawa watched him quietly for a moment. Then— “Boy. That’s enough.”
The woman’s attention shifted back to him.
Fukuzawa spoke evenly. “Your intentions regarding the police are not my concern. My job is simply to prevent a crime.”
He met her gaze. “If that is acceptable, I would like to speak with the rest of your staff.”
She exhaled sharply and turned away..“…Do whatever you want.”
As she left, Ranpo watched her go. “Wow. Adults get angry so fast.”
Fukuzawa glanced at him, his gaze just slightly softer now. “…Now I understand why you can’t hold a job.”
After that, the two of them began questioning the staff, gathering as much information as possible before the show began.
Later, they moved to the main lobby.
Fukuzawa observed the crowd carefully, scanning faces and movements. Ranpo, meanwhile, was more interested in the snacks on display, idly browsing as if none of this concerned him.
Fukuzawa’s attention drifted to a nearby newspaper. then quietly made his way upstairs.
Ranpo followed, dropping into a chair behind him, already starting to complain. “Yep. Someone’s going to get killed here, and the theater’s going to shut down real fast.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Fukuzawa replied. “No one is taking the threat seriously.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a warning.” Fukuzawa paused.
“A threat gives options,” Ranpo continued matter-of-factly. “This doesn’t. It’s just a declaration. From the beginning, the attacker hasn’t made a single demand.”
Fukuzawa looked at him. “…When did you come to that conclusion?”
“When I read the letter.” Fukuzawa’s eyes widened slightly. So he really is…
“If you knew that,” he said, “why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
Ranpo shrugged. “It never occurred to me that someone as capable as you would misinterpret it.”
Fukuzawa exhaled quietly. “…Do you assume everyone sees the world the way you do?”
Ranpo blinked. “You notice everything,” Fukuzawa continued. “Tell me—what have you noticed about me?”
“I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight,” Ranpo said instead.
“…I know.” After a brief pause, Fukuzawa spoke. “Then you can stay with me. For the time being.”
Ranpo blinked again. “At your home?”
Fukuzawa nodded. Even he didn’t fully understand why he was offering this. But the thought of leaving the boy alone like this didn’t sit right with him.
“…But first,” he added, “answer my question.”
Ranpo sighed, standing up. “Grown-ups really love their quizzes…” He stretched slightly before answering. “I’ve only just met you, so there’s a limit. But… early thirties. A bodyguard. Highly trained in martial arts. You’re single. No coworkers. Right-handed. You chose a seat with your back to the wall, You’re a swordsman.”
He glanced over. And with a small pause. “And you don’t use your katana anymore because you’re ashamed of your past work.”
Fukuzawa went still. Ranpo continued, almost casually— “There was that incident a few years ago… during the peace treaty negotiations. Government officials were found dead one after another.”
He tilted his head. “Should I keep going, mister?”
“Silence!” The word came out sharper than intended. Before Fukuzawa realized it, Ranpo had been knocked off his feet. The moment the sound left his mouth, regret followed. Fukuzawa immediately stepped forward, kneeling beside him.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, helping him up. “Are you alright?”
Ranpo blinked, startled. “Y-yeah… just surprised, that’s all.”
Fukuzawa steadied him gently, his expression tightening. This child… He’s far too sharp. He bent down, picking up Ranpo’s hat before holding it out to him.
“Help me with this case,” he said. “If we succeed, I’ll introduce you to work that suits your abilities better.”
Ranpo took the hat, placing it back on his head. “…Sounds good to me,” he said with a nod. “I’ll do what I can.”
At that moment, the signal announcing the start of the show echoed through the theater.
Together, the two of them made their way inside. As they did so, Fukuzawa found his thoughts growing unsettled. He worked alone. He always had. So why… why was he allowing this boy to get involved?
When the play began, Fukuzawa kept his attention on the audience rather than the stage. His sharp gaze moved from face to face, watching for anything unusual, anything out of place.
Beside him, Ranpo fidgeted restlessly. “Hey… can I ask you something?” the boy muttered. “These people paid good money to watch this, right? So why isn’t anyone upset about sitting through a show with such an obvious ending?”
Fukuzawa glanced at him. “Hey—stop.”
But Ranpo suddenly stood, pointing toward the stage. “He’s the murderer, isn’t he?! You can tell within the first five minutes!”
Fukuzawa immediately pulled him back down into his seat, placing a firm but controlled hand on his shoulder. “Knock it off. Right now.”
Ranpo tilted his head up slightly, frustration breaking through. “Why? Why is everyone just sitting here, watching this without complaining? The dialogue is terrible… it doesn’t make sense… I don’t get it.”
His voice wavered. “There’s something everyone else understands… something I don’t. And I don’t get it.”
His hands tightened slightly. “I’m scared. It’s like the world is full of monsters… monsters only i don’t understand.”
He shut his eyes tightly. “I’m all alone… living in a world of monsters.”
Fukuzawa went still. Something twisted in his chest. He didn’t like it — the fear in the boy’s voice, the quiet isolation behind his words. And before he could stop himself…
He shifted slightly closer. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough. For the rest of the first act, Fukuzawa remained beside him — steady, silent… present. Offering, in the only way he knew how, a small sense of safety.
When intermission arrived, Fukuzawa stood.
“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll give you the answer you’re looking for.” They returned to the earlier spot, away from the noise of the crowd.
Fukuzawa looked at the boy for a long moment before speaking. He told him the truth. About his past. About the lives he had taken. About the uncertainty that haunted him — whether he had killed for duty… or for something far worse.
That fear had driven him to lay down his sword. To promise never to use it again. Ranpo listened quietly. Then Fukuzawa spoke again.
“You’re different,” he said. “You see things others can’t. You understand what they miss.”
Ranpo’s eyes flickered slightly. Fukuzawa continued, answering each of the boy’s questions patiently. He explained abilities — what they were, how rare they could be. And though he knew the truth… He chose his words carefully.
“Your ability,” he said, “lets you see the truth in an instant.”
Ranpo blinked. Fukuzawa held out a pair of glasses he had picked up. “These will help you control it.”
He stepped closer. “When you wear them, you can use your power. Without them… you’re just a boy, still learning.”
The boy stared at them. “They look cheap,” Ranpo muttered.
Fukuzawa didn’t respond to that. Instead— He placed them onto Ranpo’s face. The motion was sudden, firm enough to startle him. Ranpo stumbled slightly, falling back into his seat.
“Use it,” Fukuzawa said. “See the truth.” His voice steadied. “From this moment on… you are the world’s greatest detective.”
Ranpo blinked. Confusion flickered— Then something shifted. Fukuzawa continued, more firmly now. “The world hasn’t changed. It was never full of monsters.”
A pause. “They only seemed that way because you could see more than everyone else.”
His gaze softened, just slightly. “To you… everyone else simply seems foolish.”
Ranpo’s eyes widened. Understanding. At last. The tension in his body broke— And suddenly, he laughed. Bright. Free. The fear was gone.
“Well then!” Ranpo said, grinning. “The attack will happen in the second act. We just need to use that.”
When the second act began, Fukuzawa remained in the audience while Ranpo moved to act behind the scenes. Then— It happened. The lead actor collapsed on stage. Dead.
Fukuzawa was on his feet instantly, rushing forward. “Call an ambulance!” he ordered. “Notify the police! Lock down the theater!”
Panic spread through the crowd. Fukuzawa moved quickly, examining the body, scanning the stage, piecing together what he could. He kept the situation under control as best as possible, directing people, preventing chaos.
But his attention lingered. Waiting. For the boy.
Soon, he learned that one audience member was missing. As he moved through the theater gathering information, he encountered the head of the theater again.
“Your boy already explained things,” she said. “Is he really… gifted?”
Fukuzawa didn’t answer. Instead, he returned to the audience— Just as Ranpo stepped onto the stage. And began to explain everything.
The “murder” had been staged. The actor had faked his death to make the play more realistic. The missing audience member was the true victim — hidden backstage, unconscious. The so-called corpse… was the culprit.
Ranpo laid it all out effortlessly. To him, it was obvious. To everyone else, it was astonishing.
After everything settled, Fukuzawa approached him. He intended to tell the truth. About the lie. But Ranpo talked right over him, completely uninterested.
Then a police officer approached, thanking them and offering to take Ranpo to the station to explain the case.
Ranpo immediately began bragging. “I’m gifted, you know! The world’s greatest detective!”
The officer listened, impressed.
Fukuzawa stepped in. “I’ll come later to give my report. The boy is exhausted—”
“I’m fine!” Ranpo interrupted. “I’ll go ahead and wait for you!”
Fukuzawa hesitated. Something about letting him go felt… Wrong. But in the end— “…Alright.”
Ranpo grinned, turning to leave with the officer. As he ran off, he called back— “See you soon!” A moment later, he crashed into a sign, quickly fixing it before hurrying away, laughing to himself.
Fukuzawa watched him go. That strange feeling lingered. He turned back to his work, questioning the lead actor again.
he explained there had been two objectives — the staged death… and capturing the man they had found. Fukuzawa processed the information—
When suddenly, someone came running toward him. “There’s been another murder!” they shouted.
Fukuzawa’s eyes sharpened.
“The playwright—he’s dead. Killed in his own home.” A pause. “…Impaled from behind. Just like the play.”
Silence fell. The case… Wasn’t over yet.
With that new information, Fukuzawa paused to think. Ranpo’s earlier words echoed in his mind — about the play, about the warning, about the intent behind it all. Something wasn’t right.
As he reviewed the situation, he asked about the officer who had taken Ranpo to the station. The response made his expression harden. They hadn’t been able to contact the officer since he left.
Fukuzawa didn’t like that. Not at all. He turned immediately, heading back to retrace his steps — when something caught his eye.
At the base of the sign Ranpo had bumped into earlier, there was a card. Fukuzawa picked it up. A small message had been written on it. He went still for a moment.
…That boy. He’d gotten himself kidnapped on purpose. For the sake of the case. A sharp, unfamiliar weight settled in Fukuzawa’s chest. A tightness he had never felt before.
He didn’t like it. Not even a little.
Moving quickly, he resumed his investigation, tracking down the “missing” audience member — only to discover the man walking stick, with a device.
Using it, Fukuzawa headed straight to a prison. There, he sought out the young assassin.
Fukuzawa questioned him, but the boy refused to answer — bound by loyalty to his clients.
So Fukuzawa changed his approach.
The assassin paused. “…Do you even know why they’re doing this?” he asked before adding “ it's for a cause,” he said.
The words struck something buried deep within Fukuzawa. Without hesitation, Fukuzawa made an offer. “Tell me what I need to know… and I’ll help you get out of here.”
The boy blinked, clearly surprised. Even Fukuzawa himself was aware of how far he had just stepped beyond his own principles. But the thought of Ranpo being in danger…
Was enough to make him cross that line without hesitation. The assassin studied him for a moment.
“…Working alone is best for someone like me,” he said. “But if a martial artist like you is willing to abandon your ideals to save someone…”
A faint smile. “…That boy must be lucky to have you. A superior like that.” A pause. “…I envy him.”
Fukuzawa didn’t respond. Ranpo wasn’t his subordinate. Wasn’t his responsibility. …And yet— The thought felt hollow.
The assassin continued, offering information — but instead of accepting Fukuzawa’s deal, he simply made a request.
“A bowl of spicy curry.” A small shrug. “I could escape whenever I want. But I’d rather have a proper meal first.”
Fukuzawa agreed without hesitation. He had a child to save. Whatever this feeling was — responsibility, attachment…
He didn’t fully understand it. But he couldn’t ignore it.
The tracking led him to a warehouse. Fukuzawa moved quickly, silently taking down the armed guards stationed outside.
Each one fell within seconds. Then— Through a window— He saw it.
A gun. Pressed against Ranpo’s face. Something snapped. Before he could even think, Fukuzawa moved.
He crashed through the window, closing the distance in an instant. The man holding the gun didn’t have time to react before Fukuzawa struck him down, knocking him unconscious with a single, decisive blow.
The remaining guards rushed in— And were dealt with just as quickly.
Silence followed. Fukuzawa turned immediately, rushing to Ranpo. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine—” Before the boy could finish— Smack.
Fukuzawa’s hand struck him. “Screw you!” he snapped, his voice sharper than ever. “To hell with your damn calculations! When I got here, there was a gun pointed at your face!”
The words came out harsher than intended. Driven by something he didn’t fully understand. Fear. Real fear.
“I knew you’d save me,” Ranpo said simply.
Fukuzawa’s expression tightened. “Using your abilities is fine. Using your intellect against dangerous people is fine,” he said. “But I want you to stop risking your life on these reckless gambles!”
Ranpo froze. His eyes widened— Then tears welled up, spilling over as he suddenly stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Fukuzawa.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Fukuzawa went still. Then slowly— He let the boy cling to him.
After that day, Fukuzawa made a decision. He had always worked alone. Always believed that was the only way. But that was no longer enough. Not anymore.
For that boy’s sake— He would create a place where Ranpo could belong. A place where he would be safe. A place where people like him could exist without fear. A detective agency. And together— They would work to obtain a license for a gifted organization.
Wip