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Ranpo knew the meeting would be boring the moment he was told to go. He tried to get out of it, claiming there were many more important cases for him to work on, but Fukuzawa just shook his head and turned, with the expectation that Ranpo would follow.
With that, Ranpo sighed loud enough to ensure that everyone in the room was aware of his dissatisfaction. Grabbing as many snacks as he could fit in his arms, he stood and followed Fukuzawa and the others to the room. Kunikida was already there, busy connecting his computer to the projector.
As soon as Ranpo saw fog emerging from buildings, he knew what this case was about. Of course he did. Kunikida rewound the video for the others to watch again, but Ranpo just rolled his eyes, settled in his seat, and opened a new bag of chips. This was either going to be the shortest or longest night of his life, depending on the effect the fog had on non-ability users.
With everyone’s shock from the photo of the ability user’s corpse distracting them, Ranpo didn’t bother to put on his glasses. Somewhere deep within him, he had always known he didn’t have an ability. However, the want — need — to fit in somewhere drowned out any sense of logic he may have had towards the subject.
Ranpo played the role of a gifted person just as an actor does during a show. Despite everyone knowing the person on stage is an actor who is reading a script and dressed in costume, the audience pretends as though they aren’t for the sake of the story. The agency has always behaved in a similar manner when it came to Ranpo’s non-ability.
Eventually, he grew tired of it. Tired of the anxiousness that would swell in his stomach every time a new member joined the agency and had to find out all over again that Ranpo wasn’t who they thought he was. Who they wanted him to be. Tired of how, whenever he mentioned his ability, everyone rolled their eyes. Tired of playing a role that didn’t even serve its purpose of helping him fit in at the agency. Ranpo would eternally be an outsider: too smart for the public yet not powerful enough for the gifted.
Poe gave him an excuse — a reason — to quit the act and relinquish the costume that only made him appear more idiotic than he already did.
So, Ranpo didn’t bother putting on his glasses. The prop weighed heavily in his pockets, screaming at him to at least look like he’s trying to be like them, yet he ignored it. Instead, Ranpo pointed out what he already understood: the victim was gifted.
He felt the atmosphere grow even more tense than it had already been. Someone or something is targeting ability users. Whoever it was made it appear as though they committed suicide, and while they considered the possibility of this being a suicide epidemic, Ranpo knew it wasn’t.
This is why, as everyone discussed the case and how they were at risk, he promptly stood and left the room. This discussion had no space for him. The subject didn’t include him, and Ranpo had nothing of value to add to the conversation. It was just another way his lack of a gift made him different. He already knew both who and what was behind this, as well as how it would end, anyway.
He made his way towards Fukuzawa’s office first. After digging through the man's belongings, Ranpo found the safe he was looking for. He opened it, throwing whatever was already in it on the floor, and left the room to find the rest of his snacks.
When Ranpo returned to the meeting room, it seemed as though no one noticed that he had left. However, a few members did notice his return and glanced at the safe in his hands with curiosity. Not caring for whatever conversation was currently happening, Ranpo slammed the box on the table and began shoving his snacks in it. If he was going to be this bored through the night, he might as well keep his snacks safe where he can find them.
Kenji was sitting closest to him in the meeting. At the bang of Ranpo’s safe on hardwood, he startled and looked over at the other detective. Curiosity filled his eyes, and Ranpo knew what he was going to ask. Ranpo also knew what his reply would be.
That’s the problem, isn’t it? He knows everything, so nothing ever surprises him. At least that ensures he’s never disappointed. Even so, it also means he’s never surprised when someone does something good for him. Ranpo doesn’t know if he would like being surprised — he hasn’t not predicted anything since he was a small, small child — but it can be annoyingly boring nonetheless.
“What are you doing?” Kenji peered over as Ranpo continued sorting through his snacks while adding them to the safe, ensuring that his favorites would end up at the front.
He shrugged, not caring to return his gaze. “That’s my little secret.”
In the corner of his eye, he notices Yosano looking at him. The understanding in her eyes severely annoys him. Ranpo slams the door to the safe and shoots her a warning look. Stop it.
Ranpo knows everything. He understood that the fog manifests the abilities of the gifted and forces them to fight their user until one of them loses. He recognized how this would end. Ranpo had seen what would happen to each person tonight and figured out how the agency members — the real ones, with abilities — would be fighting together tonight. He understood that Atsushi was at the center of it all and would not come out the same.
Even so, as he watched the fog creep into Yokohama from the agency window, Ranpo realized something concerning: He didn’t know what was coming next.
He knew the distant future, yes, but he had absolutely no idea what would happen when the fog began to consume him. Ranpo would disappear, out of sight from the agency and the world as they understood it, but where would he go?
Would he be held in a stagnant moment, unaware of his own consciousness, or simply dream in a comatose state, completely forgotten by the outside world? Maybe Ranpo would be trapped in a space in which he was completely aware, stuck only with his thoughts to keep him company.
For the first time since he was taken in by Fukuzawa, Ranpo felt a twinge of fear. He had forgotten what it was like to not be aware of his future. He looked down and saw the fog begin to creep at his feet. Stomach sinking, he pulled his legs up to his chest. Ranpo wondered how long it would take for the fog to surround him and didn’t bother to grab a snack before it did. As the fog began to block the city from his sight, Ranpo wondered if anyone knew he was here.
-
Only a moment passed before Ranpo was returned to his own world. As he blinked the light back into his eyes, he noted that the sun was rising and the fog was nowhere to be seen. Still, he felt a pressure in the back of his throat at the thought of the fog and dismissed said thought as quickly as it came.
Leaning back on his hands while remaining atop the desk, Ranpo closed his eyes. For a moment, all he did was breathe. He took in the way the crisp morning air cut at his skin and the staleness of the office air. He felt the wood of the desk, smooth beneath his palms. The cuffs of his pants itched at his ankle, but he welcomed the discomfort.
Ranpo didn’t know what had happened or where he had gone. He had no memory beyond the way his mind became overwhelmed with the sensation of drowning, gasping, and sinking into the fog as any other thoughts left his mind. He realizes how long it has been, but he has no clue as to where he went.
As he opened his eyes, Ranpo thought of the agency. They should be wrapping up by now. He looked out the window and scanned the sight before him. Everything was… okay, for the most part. Never having been unsure of his abilities in the past, Ranpo winced as the thought that he hoped he was right, that they were safe, crossed his mind. He knew they were. Shibusawa was far gone at this point. Atsushi would still be at Mukurotoride, reconciling with his past and looking for Kyouka and Dazai. The rest would remain in their places, processing the events of the night and understanding their gifts just a little bit better.
Yosano would have her hands full with the agency members. Ranpo wondered if she would bring them back here or treat them on-site and send them home. His mind told him that it would be less of a headache if they didn’t return to the agency, but a part of him also hoped they would. The building's silence was unfamiliar, and all he wanted was to hear someone’s voice.
Sighing, Ranpo turned to open the safe and found his snacks just as he had left them. By the time the agency returned, it was near noon and his food supply was almost completely gone. He turned to the door, remaining in the same spot he had been all night, when he heard footsteps.
“It’s about time,” Ranpo greeted as Kunikida opened the door. Kunikida stared at him for a moment before determining that the sight before him was not something he could understand right now and promptly headed for his desk.
The next to enter were Atsushi, Kyouka, and Dazai. Atsushi and Kyouka were caught up in a conversation and headed straight to their spot in the office. Meanwhile, Dazai felt Ranpo’s gaze on him and turned to face him. Their eyes met for a moment. Dazai scanned his face, looking for something, before giving a curt nod at him and turning away.
Yosano rushed into her office, not sparing the room a glance.
Of course, after such an eventful night for them, Ranpo wouldn’t expect the agency to remember that he wasn’t like them. He was an outsider pretending to be their version of normal. They have no reason to think of him as any different from themselves after he has spent so long trying to prove to them that he was at their level. That he belonged.
As their separate conversations began to merge into a larger one about the manifestations of their abilities, a seed of doubt was sown in his mind. Ranpo can solve any case, deduce the motives of any perpetrator, and notice things that no one else sees — and yet, that doesn’t make him any better at understanding people themselves.
While Junichirou began to describe the way his ability would appear out of nowhere and grab him from behind, Ranpo wondered if maybe they had remembered. They’re smart. Not as smart as him, but a few of them are close enough that he heavily doubts they could forget that he doesn’t have an ability.
They may have forgotten, yes, or maybe they just don’t care. It is quite likely that Ranpo’s shadow of a presence and the chaos of the night have led them to know he doesn’t have an ability, but not care enough to get to know his version of the night.
After all, why would they care about someone who was gone from the world while they fought and screamed and cried in a battle for not only their lives but the entirety of Yokohama? Although he was eating a strawberry wafer, Ranpo’s mouth tasted bitter as unreasonable resentment pricked at his mind. Ranpo shouldn’t be resentful that he was, well, safe.
(Probably safe. He still didn’t know what would have happened if they had failed, if he was wrong. Would he have been lost to an incomprehensible void for the rest of eternity? Would he be relieved from his residence in negative space and die instead? Would there be any survivors? Would they remember him?)
Whatever. Ranpo turned away from the room and hopped off the desk, walking closer to the window. Even now, he could feel it — the sensation of being gone. It drowned out the chatter behind him. Ranpo didn’t know why he wanted to hear their voices, anyway. They’re annoying, like nails on a chalkboard, he thought as he ran his tongue over a wafer hanging halfway out of his mouth.
He thought about his next case and the case after that. Ranpo stared beyond Yokohama and imagined that something was happening. Something that he could be useful in. Ranpo is smart, he is. He is the best detective in the world. He can be useful. He can. He can.
Lost in his thoughts, Ranpo didn’t hear the already silent steps behind him. A heavy, comforting hand rested itself on his shoulder and, without looking, he already knew it was Fukuzawa’s. Fukuzawa’s presence made him irrationally mad. He wanted to know exactly what Fukuzawa did last night. Where he was and why he wasn’t with him.
Ranpo knew it was illogical and unreasonable to think this way. He’s better than that — he’s not a child. That made him even angrier. At himself, at Fukuzawa, at Shibusawa, at whoever the fuck decided that gifts were a necessary part of human nature.
Still, Fukuzawa stood behind him — with him, when he could have been talking with anyone else in the world — and Ranpo couldn’t help but turn around and hide his face in his dad’s yukata as tears stung his eyes. He clung tightly to Fukuzawa while the man held him with one hand and ran circles around his back with the other.
They stayed like that for long enough that the agency had since parted ways and left the office, leaving them the only people in the room. Ranpo peered up to find Fukuzawa's concerned expression looking down at him. His face was filled with so much care that Ranpo absolutely could not stand and had to turn away.
He didn’t realize he was speaking until the broken words left his mouth. Ranpo sounded so young and stupid — vulnerable — that he almost wished he were alone again.
“I was scared,” he says. “I’m never scared.”
Fukuzawa sucked in a breath, and Ranpo broke once again as the man leaned down to wrap his arms around him in a firm, secure hug. He shuddered as sobs overtook his body and felt too much like the fog. He was scared the fog was going to take him again and—
“-ts okay, Ranpo. You’re okay.” Fukuzawa’s voice parted through the fog. “You’re here, Ranpo. You’re safe.”
Ranpo took a deep breath, the fog dissipating at Fukuzawa’s continued reassurances. For the first time in the past few days, his worries retreated into the deep, hidden parts of his mind as he realized that he was okay.