Archive of Our Own

Fukuzawa put together that Ranpo was transgender about two weeks into living with him.

He could hardly send the fourteen year old back to the streets. And he had the mind of a genius - letting it go to waste would be insane. So, he'd brought the kid home. Ranpo was fourteen. Teenagers liked their independence, Fukuzawa had thought, it couldn't be that hard. Ranpo wasn't your regular teenager, however.

Fukuzawa was woken by the shower. He laid for a while, figuring there was no point in going back to sleep.

Half an hour later, the water stopped. There was a soft knock on his bedroom door.

"Ranpo," he said.

Ranpo pushed the door open, hair damp, head down. He toed at the ground.

"Can I…"

"Of course." Fukuzawa sat up, patting the side of the bed. "Come in. Is everything alright?"

Ranpo shook his head, creeping forward to sit on the bed. He shuffled as close as he could without further invitation. Fukuzawa waved him forward, and Ranpo fell into him, trembling. Fukuzawa hugged him.

"Would you like to talk about it…?"

"No… You wouldn't understand…" Ranpo mumbled, clutching at him. Fukuzawa felt his shirt get damp.

"Try me."

Ranpo shook his head. Fukuzawa petted his hair, letting him cry in silence.

Fukuzawa didn't know how to help. He guessed Ranpo didn't want to talk about it, and maybe didn't want Fukuzawa to know yet. But Fukuzawa couldn't take care of him without addressing it.

Hoping to spare Ranpo for as long as possible, Fukuzawa did his own research. Found the right products, and put them somewhere easily seen and accessed without drawing attention to Ranpo. He was concerned that Ranpo wouldn't know how to use them, being that his parents likely died before it had ever been relevant, but Ranpo never came to ask.

He left heat packs around with microwave instructions written on sticky notes, and made sure the sweets stash never got low. Ranpo's already selective diet dwindled to just snacks, but he hadn't cried again, so Fukuzawa was taking it as a win.

The third day, Ranpo hadn't got out of bed. Fukuzawa was okay with letting him sleep in, but it was almost 2PM. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Ranpo…? Are you awake?"

"Go away…" Ranpo called back, voice raw.

Fukuzawa sighed softly. "Do you want a toasted sandwich?"

"…Yeah…"

"Okay. I'll come back in a few minutes."

He brought him a ham and cheese toastie, a bottle of water, and some painkillers. Ranpo barely moved. Fukuzawa had to coax him into sitting up, putting the plate in his hands.

"I don't mind if you don't eat much. But try to drink some water, okay?"

Ranpo grunted, taking a small bite of the sandwich. Fukuzawa sat on the side of the bed with him, concerned.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Not unless you can bring my mum back…" he whispered, raw.

Obviously he couldn't. Ranpo knew that.

"Nothing I can do for you…?"

Ranpo shrugged, eating slowly. "You could… Stay in here for a bit…"

"Sure." He made himself comfortable.

Ranpo ended up curling over his lap, sleeping again. Fukuzawa stroked his dark hair, staying put. He didn't want Ranpo to wake up alone after asking for Fukuzawa to stay with him.

Fukuzawa didn't know what he'd been doing on the streets. How he'd taken care of himself. Poor kid. He was too young to lose his parents. Not to mention his school kicking him to the curb. The whole situation would've been difficult for a normal person, and Ranpo was far from that.

It passed. Ranpo returned to his bright, loud self, taking any opportunity to yap about anything that interested him. It got annoying sometimes. Fukuzawa tried to remind himself that it meant Ranpo was getting comfortable, and that snapping would only send his progress back to square one.

One morning, Ranpo was at the table, looking through the newspaper for the crime section. He looked up, expression shifting to something unsure.

"Fukuzawa…"

"Yes?" He continued to make his tea, acting as though Ranpo's hesitance and concern didn't concern Fukuzawa tenfold.

"Could you take me into the city?"

"…Sure. You need something?"

"Mm."

Not elaborating on what. Fukuzawa would be there the whole time, anyway.

"Sure thing. Give me an hour to get ready, okay?"

According to Ranpo, 'one hour' meant strictly one hour. It was Fukuzawa's mistake, he supposed.

They took the bus, which Ranpo did not like at all, especially early on a weekday. Everyone was off to work. Still, they made it without any big issues.

Fukuzawa stood in the city square, Ranpo half-hanging off his sleeve. He sniffed, looking around.

"Lot of people…"

"Weren't you living out here a few weeks ago?" He gently led Ranpo forward.

"I got used to the quiet…" He glanced around. "I didn't have to just cope for a while…"

"…We can go home anytime. Just give me the word. We can get a taxi back, if the bus is too much."

Ranpo nodded. "Yeah…"

"What did you need, anyway?"

"Right. Um…" He looked a bit lost. "Clothes shop…"

"Any in particular?"

"Yeah. But… I don't remember which one it was."

That wasn't very helpful. Fukuzawa was about to point that out, but Ranpo was already starting to look distressed. Fukuzawa opted for patting his back.

"We'll look around for a while, then. I'm sure we'll find it."

"Okay…"

"Wrong," Ranpo said again, trudging after Fukuzawa, eyes focused on fiddling with the glasses in his hand.

Fukuzawa looked around the street. "I'm sure that's all the clothes stores in the area, Ranpo. Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"…No." He looked up, shifting closer.

"We're not lost," he promised. "I'm just not sure where else to look."

"I don't know…"

Fukuzawa nodded, holding back a sigh. Ranpo was hyper-aware of little reactions like that.

"Lunch, then? We're not on a time limit. Maybe you'll remember after you eat."

"Okay…"

Fukuzawa picked a cafe - Ranpo preferred sweets over anything, so he guessed a breakfast meal for lunch would be better received than something savoury. Ranpo picked a table at the back, far from the door and the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at a large group on the other side of the room. Fukuzawa hoped he wouldn't get too annoyed by them.

They sat down, and Fukuzawa looked through the menu. He told the waitress his order when she came over, scratching at her little notebook. When it was Ranpo's turn to order, however, he was dead silent. Didn't even look at her. Fukuzawa frowned.

"Could you maybe come back in a few minutes? Thank you." Fukuzawa said to the waitress.

She nodded and scampered off. Fukuzawa put his focus on Ranpo.

"Ranpo?"

Ranpo grunted, rubbing his forehead.

"Is it too loud?" He looked at the group, who were laughing and talking. A bit obnoxious, but he could ignore it. He was learning Ranpo couldn't do that so easily.

"It's fine…" He sighed. "I don't want to talk to her," he said, flicking his wrist in the direction of the waitress.

"…Okay. Is there a reason?"

Ranpo shrugged, head down. Fukuzawa pushed the menu in front of him. "Show me what you want. I'll tell her your order."

Ranpo pointed. Breakfast pancakes. "All the toppings…" he mumbled.

"All of them?" Fukuzawa repeated, trying to calculate how much extra that would cost in his head.

"…Please."

That wasn't what he had been going for, but he appreciated that Ranpo was working on his manners.

"Sure."

Fukuzawa ordered again.

Ranpo ate most of it. He would've finished off the whole thing, but Fukuzawa stopped him before he could make himself sick, saying he'd eat the rest. Ranpo was a little weird about leaving food on his plate. Fukuzawa wanted to teach him it was okay not to overeat just to clear his plate, but telling him to waste food didn't feel like the right way to go about it.

He finished the pancakes after eating his own meal, and Ranpo played around with the glasses. He tensed up every time the group across the room erupted into laughter. Fukuzawa would've sat outside, if he'd come with a group that large and loud.

"Can we go now…?" Ranpo murmured.

"Of course." Fukuzawa piled the dirty plates up neatly. "Just let me pay, first."

"Right…"

This time, Ranpo looked around, eyebrows furrowed. "I think I know where we are…"

"Oh?"

Ranpo grabbed Fukuzawa's sleeve, pulling him forward. Fukuzawa followed without a fight. Ranpo knew what he was doing, and if he didn't, Fukuzawa would figure it out.

"Just needed some sugar to get your brain working again, hm?"

"Shh. Thinking."

"Mhm."

Ranpo pulled him to some odd little store down a side street, not at all somewhere Fukuzawa would ever go. He stared through the window.

"This is it…?"

Ranpo nodded, some light back in his eyes, having remembered. Fukuzawa pushed any worries about the store to the back of his mind. He was here to care for Ranpo, not dictate what he wore.

Ranpo pulled him to the seat inside. "You can sit."

"…Oh. You don't need any help?"

"I'm fine."

Said the kid who couldn't order food for himself barely half an hour ago. Fukuzawa nodded, though. "Okay. Come get me if you need me."

"Mhm." He wandered off.

Fukuzawa almost fell asleep. The seat was comfortable, and Ranpo was taking a while. There was no harm in closing his eyes for a moment-

"Fukuzawa."

Fukuzawa started, waking himself up. "Sorry, I- you're done?"

"Uh huh." He fidgeted. "It's, um, at the counter."

You want me to pay, Fukuzawa didn't say. It wasn't Ranpo's fault that he didn't have much money. He did spend a lot on snacks, but it'd been a while since he had a job. And he was fourteen, he shouldn't be worrying about buying clothes.

"Alright." He stood up.

Thankfully it was only a small bundle. Fukuzawa paid, and the worker - an androgynous fellow with bright blue hair - wished Ranpo well as they bagged the clothes.

"Remember, no longer than six hours, okay? Take care of yourself," they said.

Ranpo nodded stiffly, taking the bag. Fukuzawa thanked them and walked out with his teenager.

"What is no longer than six hours…?" he enquired.

"Nothing."

"Mhm…" He rested a hand on Ranpo's back, gently steering him the right way. "You can tell me anything, you know. There's nothing you can say that would make me abandon you."

"Sure."

He didn't sound convinced. Fukuzawa didn't push. He wouldn't gain trust by forcing it.

"Just remember, I want to help you. You can come to me."

"I'm ready to go home."

"…Okay. That's where we're headed."

Four weeks after last time, Ranpo got miserable again. Moped about, barely ate, hardly got out of bed. When Fukuzawa pushed him to walk around or eat a meal, he'd get quite upset. It wasn't manageable. Sure, it was only a few days, but Ranpo was really struggling.

Fukuzawa knocked on his bedroom door lightly. "I brought dinner. Please try to eat."

"Not hungry…"

"I know. But you haven't eaten all day. Please, Ranpo." I'm worried.

"…Fine."

Fukuzawa let himself in, knowing Ranpo wouldn't get up. He came by the bed, setting the plate on Ranpo's lap - he'd sat up, at least.

"Could I sit…?"

"I'm tired…" Ranpo mumbled, picking at the food, far from enthusiastic.

"I know. Only for a little while."

After he didn't get an answer, Fukuzawa sat on the bed, hands clasped in his lap. He didn't want to confront Ranpo, make him feel cornered, but it wasn't okay. It was like the very life was drained out of the poor kid.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Ranpo…?"

"No…"

"Absolutely nothing? Even in a hypothetical situation?"

Ranpo squinted at him. "What do you mean…"

"If, say, you had something you didn't want to tell me. But in the hypothetical situation, I would already know and it wouldn't matter. If that were the case, would there be anything I could do?"

"I guess…" Ranpo was a bit tired to work through all of that in his head.

"And hypothetically, what would that be…?"

"Something to make it stop… Pills, maybe…"

Fukuzawa nodded. He didn't know the first thing about any of this, but he wasn't letting Ranpo suffer through it if he didn't have to. "Okay."

Ranpo got through it, though he slept a lot, after. Recovering, Fukuzawa guessed.

Fukuzawa had a doctor he trusted, and talked it through with them. He explained Ranpo's situation, and, being an old friend, they were happy to prescribe medication without forcing an uncomfortable meeting with Ranpo.

When he got home from the chemist, Fukuzawa put them right in Ranpo's hand.

"Here."

"What are these?" He turned the box over.

"Your hypothetical pills."

Ranpo glanced up. Fukuzawa just patted his shoulder. "Once every day. Tell me if there's any issues." He went to start dinner before Ranpo felt like a conversation was necessary.

Ranpo's energy still dipped, a month later, but he was a lot better. No crying, no meltdowns, no rotting in bed for hours upon hours. Fukuzawa wasn't worried about the inconvenience. He just hated how miserable Ranpo had been.

Ranpo trailed out from his room, standing somewhat awkwardly by the couch, where Fukuzawa was reading. He looked up.

"Ranpo?"

"How do I handwash clothes?"

"…The washing machine won't work?" Ranpo could barely manage unloading the dishwasher - he was learning, though. Fukuzawa wasn't sure why he was trying for another chore.

"No… It's fragile…"

"Mhm… Can I see?"

"…Not really."

Fukuzawa nodded. That made it a bit difficult, but he'd do what he needed to for the kid.

"How about I show you with a shirt, and then you can do it by yourself?"

"Yes, please…"

Fukuzawa smiled slightly. He stood up, abandoning his book. "Let's go."

"Fukuzawa-" A tug on his sleeve as he went past.

He stopped. "Yes?"

"Mm…" Ranpo lowered his head, still holding onto Fukuzawa's sleeve. "Thank you…"

"…Of course. Anything you need, Ranpo."

The kid nodded, leaning into him. Fukuzawa hugged him gently. Who knows how many people had shown him kindness, since his parents. He wouldn't let them be the last.