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Around ten days ago, Fukuzawa met a lone boy on the streets. Edogawa Ranpo was a strange child, from what the bodyguard could tell in the short amount of time they’ve interacted, Ranpo is incredibly childish. He’s impulsive and unafraid to speak his mind.
He grew up faster than other kids. Ranpo was rather mature for his age, having lived on the streets (the duration hasn’t been confirmed yet but Fukuzawa knew at the very least, a year) by himself. Yokohama is a risky environment to grow up in. With a larger population of gifted than anywhere else, it’s dangerous for a child to wander the streets alone.
It would explain why he was sticking Fukuzawa like glue whenever they walked throughout those very streets. Likely paranoid about someone leaping out at them. It was no problem however. Ranpo was afraid and Fukuzawa couldn’t allow him to be lost, so if he held Ranpo’s hand tighter as they walked past an enormous crowd, nothing would be said about it.
Today, they had no cases to work on, Fukuzawa choosing to take Ranpo out shopping for essentials instead. His only possessions were his father’s wristwatch, his mother’s ring, and a meagre amount of money.
He had no idea how Ranpo had survived so long with only the clothes on his back and didn’t wish to.
“Mr bodyguard!!!” Ranpo suddenly called out, attracting a few stares from passersbys.
“I’m tired!” He exclaimed this in a manner that seemed less lethargic and more bratty than anything.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with index and thumb, then withdrew them after exhaling.
“What do you want me to do about that?” He questioned, already knowing the answer.
Their outing ended with Ranpo being called to a crime scene as usual. They’d already established a routine with these kinds of things despite their short time together.
Wearily, they trekked to the scene, the salty air of the ports empowering their senses. Clouds looked menacingly in the distance, large enough to most likely cause a downpour for at least a few hours.
Ranpo had become quiet midway through their journey and as he was lifted from Fukuzawa’s shoulders to observe the body, he stayed silent and withdrawn. It felt so out of character for him, especially considering his upbeat mood only an hour ago.
He was taken by surprise when he didn’t bother to insult the police, the officers whom they’d met days a bit perplexed by his sudden attitude change.
The body was dripping wet, eyeless and stained with blood and dirt. It was a wonder Ranpo could even discern it from the sheer volume of cuts on the face and body. What Fukuzawa hadn’t noticed were the visible insides of the abdomen half hanging out. He’d been led away by another officer before he could also inspect the body with his ward.
The gagging from the boy answered any qualms he had about the state of the corpse and before he knew it, Ranpo had rushed to his side and refused to respond. He’d concealed his face under his haori, even when Fukuzawa attempted to ask of his wellbeing, he did not move.One glance at the body told him this was a crime that Ranpo shouldn’t have seen.
It was rotten, almost inside out with the wound on its stomach. Internal organs sprawled on the ground for the world to see, flooding it with red. What a grim picture it painted… The eyes of the victim were right where Ranpo once stood too. The perpetrator would pose a danger for the young detective if he attempted to figure it out too. Cases like this were better left to the adults.
“We will be leaving.” He announced, much to the dismay of the officers on the scene.
“W-what?! Why?” The sergeant for the case stood in shock before the pair, quickly muttering a guilty, “nevermind…” as understanding quickly seeped through him.
As unresponsive as Ranpo was to their environment, he still walked when Fukuzawa did, trailing behind him as they left the port to their home. Any previous ideas of going shopping after this were swiftly disregarded as the swordsman spared a glance to his ward who was currently struggling to hold back tears.
Slipping his sandals off, he allowed Ranpo to have space. Seeing such a gruesome scene at his age must’ve been traumatic, and only days after he scraped past death too…
“Old man..” Ranpo murmured, looking away. He seemed so small and meek. His weight hasn’t improved from the boy’s time on the streets so he still looked scrawny, more youthful for someone his age.
“I uh… Sorry. I guess.” He stared at anything but Fukuzawa in shame, averting his gaze to the floor awkwardly.
Why was he- What was he… “Why are you apologising?” He settled for.
Shuffling to the spare futon, Ranpo wrapped himself in the warmth of the blankets. “For being dumb.” From the tone of his voice, it sounded like it was obvious for the boy.
Why was he so distraught by his own weaknesses? It’s not even a weakness, he was human and had a genuine reaction to a disgusting crime. Someone as sheltered and as young as Ranpo shouldn’t have to see that.
Yes, the murder at the theatre had blood but it wasn’t even real a real murder, he’d witnessed death but not something as vile and sickening as that.
“Ranpo.” He paused mid sentence , trying to find his words whilst walking towards Ranpo’s futon. “You aren’t dumb for being afraid, you’re a child and none should bear witness to something like that.”
Ranpo took a moment to process his words. Although correct, they were also difficult to believe. Ranpo was dependent on himself for a long portion of his life, with nobody to turn to, it was likely he bottled up his emotions in order to see another day. This likely continued into his time with Fukuzawa, the only time the facade slipped was the incident with the theatre mere days ago.
“That’s stupid… I-“ Stumbling over his words, Ranpo inhaled sharply, wiping his eyes with the hem of his sleeve whilst choking on sobs. “I’m a detective, I shouldn’t cry when it’s just something gross..”
“You’re a child, you should never have to see something like that.” He gently reassured, remembering to be a bit firm with his words but not too much.
“But… I’ve seen bodies before, how was- how was this different?” The boy stammered, and that was the moment Fukuzawa knew that the child had grown up far too fast. Forced to adapt to a world of merciless adults that could never understand the words of that sheltered boy.
“Compare that scene to the one from when we met. Was that one as gruesome as this one?” He decided to say instead, hoping it would bring light to what he was trying to say.
Shaking his head, he stood up immediately and staggered over to Fukuzawa, almost startling him if he hadn’t known Ranpo and studied his behaviour for a while. He clung onto the man’s body like a stray cat clasping for warmth, muffled sobs being the only sound in the apartment.
He wished he could hide Ranpo from the horrors of the world forever, but knew that withholding these things would only make him hurt even more.
It hurts.