Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

….

Ranpo took his seat next to Oda. The redhead sat to the right of him.

“I’ll take the usual.” He said in a monotone tone that Ranpo realized was his natural voice.

“I’ll take an Apple Juice, Boss!” Ranpo cheered out, arms flailing in delight. It was a hobby of his to categorize apple juice into tiers. The best so far was (begrudgingly) from the Port Mafia. It seemed that Elise knew her juices as well and only asked for the best of the best (he’d know, Ranpo sat through a tea party of hers once, as the president and Mori were talking Business, so there was no one to entertain the little girl).

Oda turned his head to him. “Not going to get a drink?”

“I don’t drink! It fills the mind, and as the world's greatest detective, I need my brain sharp at all times!” He replied with a double thumbs-up. Oda nodded, taking that as his answer.

Now, there could be questions about how he talked here with a living, breathing Oda Sakunosuke at age 24. Well, he could give you the short version of that, but it’d be like explaining Saber from Fate to a non-watcher. It’d be easier to go back in time, which is what he did.

Let’s flash backwards a bit.

Akutagawa and Atsushi started fighting Fukuchi, clashing against each other and the older man yet still synergizing. It was as Dazai intended when he designed Shin Soukoku, the pair to fight and argue until the deciding moment when everyone’s lives were at stake.

Ranpo was safe in the book Poe helped him with, a lovely lounge room with a tv and a few sage-colored couches.

It was nice, but Ranpo felt he hadn’t done enough.

Outside, the two were fighting with everything at stake, and here Ranpo was, lounging on a chair, eating popcorn to drive off the nerves! He hated it, but he wasn’t an ability user, and he wasn’t a fighter.

Ranpo resigned himself to being a burden left on the ship's deck, with Atsushi forgetting him due to honoring Akutagawa’s dying wish.

Because he couldn’t honor Ranpo’s last wish for them to run.

It was easy to deduct that Fukuchi would pull out Amenogozen. And then they would lose this battle. It was what Dazai had thought of, Ranpo was sure, but Ranpo wanted to do something more. Something that could help his coworker and his other half. And what was he best at than breaking things?

( Ranpo can remember going on a case without Fukuzawa when he was 14. It was the first case the President didn’t go with him, and it was simple to rationalize the killer. The issue featured a woman whose friends were dying one after another, and that was the only link. It was her boyfriend. He was jealous that his girlfriend spent time with people that weren’t him and decided to murder them.

Ranpo solved the case, helping to save the woman’s remaining two friends.

So why was she screaming at him, trying to tear his face off, if not for the officers holding her?

“How dare you!” She cried, tears streaming down her reddened face in ugly globs. “All you do is break things! You ruin them; how dare you, monster!”

“You’re a fraud! A fake!” The officers escorted her back to her home as she cried those words out in the dead of night.

Why did her words hurt so much worse than the scratches leaking blood? )

As of today, the wounds had scarred over a bit, leaving a few marred blotches of skin on his right hand. Thankfully his face was alright, but well. If that lady wanted him to break things, why not comply with her orders?

As he exited the book, he could feel the slight change in the air, as if something had happened that shouldn’t. Perhaps that was Atsushi and Akutagawa winning.

Ranpo picked up the empty flair, feeling the red powder on his fingers. He went to the emergency box and picked up the extra two flairs feeling their weight in his hands. He found a cloth used to cover cargo and snatched that up as well. With as much speed as he could muster, he raced up the thousands of steps to the top of the deck, finding rope and extra fabric. He tied them into an extensive line, making sure to have the rope tied around his waist loose where it connected to the material.

And there, on the ground, he saw it. Fukuchi was talking to Atsushi, no doubt about Amenogozen. Akutagawa was kneeling, blood pouring out steadily onto the floor.

Ranpo opened a flair and threw it to the floor where Fukuchi was. He backed up and jumped off the roof, using the deck to propel him further.

The dark red smoke would have confused Kamui, increasing his guard. He threw the second flair right where he estimated his face to be and right then, the rope untied from the rest of the line, laughing Ranpo onto Fukuchi.

His eyes widened as he realized who was on top of him. “You—! I should have finished you off a long time ago!” Fukuchi was about to push the clingy boy off him when Atsushi and Akutagawa returned, attempting to tag team him. He focused all his attention on Shin Soukoku, not noticing when in the split second of lost concentration, the boy took his sword.

Fukuchi could feel his eyes redden in rage as he realized what happened. “You goddamned thief! First, you take my best friend. Now you take my sword!” Yet he couldn’t put all his efforts into getting it back as the brat duo kept up a barrage of attacks.

Ranpo could feel the strange power emanating from the space-time sword. It seemed to throb in his hand as if telling him to return it to its owner. He would do no such thing, however.

He grabbed the hilt in one hand and the blade's tip in the other, ignoring the blood drooping out of his palm.

Atsushi turned wide eyes to him, Akutagawa mirroring his expression. Fukuchi placed one boot in front of the other, racing to get his sword back before—

Ranpo would not let him. He let Fukuchi trample over the trust he and the President so carefully gave out.

Gripping the sword tighter, he raised it over his head—

“Ranpo-san!” Two voices yelled in unison.

“Brat, no!” An afraid voice screamed.

—And smashed it onto his knee.

The last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness was twin faces of terror and a man’s angered stature.

(And elsewhere, two men stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Is… is this part of your plan?” The first man said with a heavy accent that did nothing to betray his confusion.

The other man’s eyes were wide as saucers. It was clear he didn’t expect that, yet he still managed out a “…yes.” That was only slightly hysterical at the end.)

Chapter Text

He could feel microscopic shards in his wound, only seen if the light hit it correctly. His hand held the more significant bits together. Perhaps the blood loss made everything spin around him, or maybe it was his thoroughly drenched state. He didn’t know.

“—Close your eyes..!”

Huh? Close them? Alright.

His eyelids fluttered closed. He couldn’t hear the concerned tone. Or the red hair.

For someone like Oda, walking was easy. Perhaps that was a strange statement, but it wasn’t difficult to get up daily and praise that fact. He was also glad he could run, sprint, or swim.

For a time like now, he couldn’t help but be extra thankful.

Oda had just picked up takeout from a nearby tea house when he saw a brown blob floating down the Tsurumi River. He was going to ignore it at first until he realized that it wasn't a tree branch bobbing up and down like a drowning man. It was a drowning man.

So he tossed the food aside and dived into the river, grabbing the man from the back of his cape thing (and grabbing his hat before it could swim away). He hauled the man—it was not a man upon further inspection but a boy— onto the riverside and started chest compressions till the strangely garbed boy weakly coughed up water.

While he was busy with that, Oda inspected the boy better. He had to do a double take because, yes, right, that was a goddamned katana in, who could probably pose as, at least, a 16-year-old. Okay then. The issue with this was that he was holding the blade, and even though Oda just got him out, blood was already starting to drip. All of that helped him realize the severity of the wound.

“Hey, kid!” Oda shouted to his face, watching emerald eyes lazily open from behind his eyes. They were glazed over. He probably didn’t know he had been in or saved from the water.

Those jade eyes blinked slowly, seemingly having trouble staying open.

“Hey, hey! Stay open! Don’t close your eyes, kid!” He ripped a piece of his coat off before tying it around the boy's palm. It would be better to have the sword shards in his hand for now else he’d bleed out to death.

Despite Oda’s words, his eyes shut. His eyes stayed shut. He rushed to dial Pops, grabbing the boy’s sword to put it through his belt.

“Hey, Oda-san!” His cheery voice rang out.

“Pops, open the medic bed and have it ready with disinfectant and bandage rolls!” Oda was grateful for his long legs that helped him cover the ground quicker. Perhaps with his natural abilities, he could save this boy.

The realm of stars surrounded him. The constellations, kindly clustered up with a large bow called a name, all packed together. Did It have a name? It didn’t want to destroy. It wanted to have worship like how it was designed. It was a weapon. It beat all the stars and disintegrated the rain because it was the rain. Wait, he wasn’t Rain. He was Ranpo—

Ranpo’s eyes remained glued shut as consciousness slowly returned to him. He could feel the pain from where the blade had damaged his soft pink hands. There would be a scar there, too, it seemed. He could hear the pitter-patter of feet upon wood tiles on the floor upstairs, along with children's giggles. So was he saved by a mother or father?

“I see you’re awake.” A deadpan voice said to his right. Ranpo immediately stiffened. He couldn’t even sense the man’s presence.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. And slammed them shut again when a barrage of light crammed into his eyes. His head hurt.

“Oh, sorry. I can’t do much about those open windows. You’ve got a concussion, by the way. And a slash on your palm that went to your dermis, so I went ahead and stitched that up after taking out all of the metal shards I could. Unfortunately, though,” the man sighed. “I couldn’t take them all out. Some tiny shards are still in your hand, but it should be fine. They’re very tiny.”

“Uhhhh-huhhh,” Ranpo said. His voice ended up gravelly, as if he had just swallowed concrete which would describe why he feels like absolute shit.

“Right. Water.” The man pressed a paper cup of cool liquid into his hand. “You should drink it; it should be good for you.”

Ranpo raised an eyebrow. “Because I can trust you and know who you are?”

“… I’m Sakunosuke Oda. My friends call me Odasaku, though.”

His eyes blew open, uncaring of his concussion that gave him the vision of a blind man, and indeed, in front of him was the Sakunosuke “Odasaku” Oda. The same one that changed Dazai’s life for the absolute better and put him on the straight and narrow— yeah, that was a lie. He wasn’t straight or narrow.

Odasaku raised an eyebrow in response. “Do you know me?”

Ranpo looked at his cup, determined that it was water, and chugged the cup. He wiped his chin with his sleeve and replied. “I’m Ranpo Edogawa, the world’s greatest detective! Of course, I know you. If I couldn’t deduce who you were, then what type of detective am I!”

Odasaku looked skeptical but didn’t comment further other than “…right.” He also didn’t comment that Ranpo didn’t answer his question.

The redhead cleared his throat before asking the dreaded questions. “So, how’d you get stuck in a river? And where’d you get the katana? Because no offense, but detectives don’t usually carry them.”

Ranpo could respond only, “Well, I found them at Nunya right off the corner of Deez Street.”

“Nunya? Deez? I’m not sure where that is.”

Ranpo grinned. “Nunya business deez balls don’t fit in ya mouth.” He laughed at Odasaku’s face. ‘Please kill me now,’ it said.

Odasaku sighed. “Listen, kid. I want to return you to your parents.”

“Kid? I’m not a kid?” Did…

His eyes blew open like Ranpo’s did 2 minutes ago. “You're not a kid!?”

“I’m 22!” He shouted indignantly.

If he were genuinely meeting Oda Sakunosuke, that would mean he was four years in the past. That would mean Ranpo traveled four years in the past. And sure. Perhaps Ranpo should have known that breaking the Time-Space sword would result in him time-traveling, but don’t blame him! If anything, blame the makers of the sword!!

Chapter Text

It’d been about a week since his unlikely time travel to the past, and his healing was progressing nicely. He met the Brats and a nice older man he now called Pops. If it took a week for them to (reluctantly) grow on him, he could understand why Odasaku went on a murderous rage killing the murderers. Ranpo would do worse, though, if anyone (FyodorNikolaiFukuchiFukuchiFukuchi) ever tried to harm his family, though. He’d never grant them the reprieve they yearned for.

With all said and done, it was now possible to flex his hand without too much pain, and Odasaku had helpfully gathered Amenogozen’s shards and stuffed them in a box for Ranpo to take “home” with him later on. Oda was, as was typical for a man working for the Port Mafia, not always here. Sometimes Ranpo would see Odasaku leave for work; most nights, he’d see him go to hang out with his friends.

On this particular occasion, Ranpo was fiddling with a Rubik’s cube, trying hard to look like he was concentrating on that when in reality, he could feel the need to pull open holes in space and drift around, letting time pass him by in a monotonous melody that would never stop unless he wanted it to. And wasn’t that funny? Ranpo could be granted a pseudo-ability when he wasn’t an ability user.

It was Its power, and It despised being wielded as a weapon—

“—po? Ranpo?” Two fingers were snapping right under his nose, and he flinched violently, falling off his plastic chair.

“Ow! Odasakuuuu! You made me fall!” Ranpo grumbled from his place on the floor, pouting as he took the offered hand to help him get up.

“Sorry. I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me.”

Huh? Well, this was something new!

“You’re going out? Where? With who? When? Why are you inviting me? Is it a private event? Is it with coworkers? Am I going to be the third wheel? Is it a date?” His barrage of questions wouldn’t stop, but Oda raised a hand, signaling he should end.

“Let’s see. I am going to Bar Lupin with two friends. You seem to be in better health; it’s not private, they are both my coworkers, you are not a third wheel, and it’s not a date.”

Ranpo raised his eyebrows, impressed he could keep up. Only four people could do that: Fukuzawa, Yosano, Dazai, and Kenji. (He missed them; he wished he knew how they were doing.)

He shrugged. “Sure then.”

And so after they got their clothes—that Ranpo let him wash—they headed out.

They were waiting at a stoplight. Ranpo went to his toes, back to his heels, then did it again.

“Y’know,” Ranpo started, taking the lollipop stick out of his mouth and carelessly flinging it toward the trash can. “We’ve met before.”

Odasaku’s eyebrows raised. “We did? I think I’d remember someone with a personality like yours.”

“Yup. When you got framed as the killer of a company President around ten years ago, the Pre-Fukuzawa-san, he gave you curry in jail?” He said it as a question but phrased it as a statement.

He stayed silent for a moment. “How is he?” Odasaku said softly.

Ranpo stilled. How was the President? He didn’t know. Did the future collapse on itself after he went to the past? Was this a new timeline? What happened to Atsushi and Akutagawa? Perhaps they finally took the hint and ran. It would probably be their only chance to leave.

Oh, who was he kidding? They were probably still gonna fight the old bastard. Then again, this was also the best chance to get the Page.

Odasaku seemed to take his silence for an answer.

“I see.”

And then he did something only two people did.

Odasaku petted his hair.

“It’s alright; we’ll figure it out.”

The light turned green.

Ranpo speed walked ahead to hide his blushing face and the smile that threatened to uplift his cheeks.

It was a bit of a dingy alleyway. Ranpo could remember sleeping in similar ones when he was homeless during those months before Fukuzawa found him. Ah, seeing this brought back memories.

“This is it.”

The smooth voice of Odasaku cut through his reminiscing. They were standing in front of a bar with a bright sign. It had the name Lupin, with a photo of a man wearing a monocle. Was this where Odasaku and Dazai, plus that other guy, would make their fond memories? Wasn’t he intruding on a private moment!?

“Bar Lupin, huh? Sooo, who’re your friends? What are they like? Do they have candy because I’m already feeling the lack of sugar high.”

“Sometimes I’m surprised you’re 22.”

“You’re not the only one!” Ranpo laughed and waltzed into the building, where he immediately confronted with stairs. These stairs were going to be such a pain to go back up—

“Hey, Ranpo. Just don’t torment my friends too much, alright—“

“Hi guys, gays and non-binary baes!” Ranpo exclaimed as he got to the last step. He saw two faces, a mirror image of each other: a whatthefuckisthisgremlin type thing he also saw on Fukuzawa’s when they first met.

Osamu Dazai's face cleared a moment later, his wary, but I’m not going to show it #15 smile showing instead. Ango Sakaguchi cleared his throat a mere moment after, which was to be expected of a spy, honestly.

“So, who’s the new friend Odasaku!” Why is he here?

Ranpo could read the actual question clearly as day, but he still said, “I’m Ranpo Edogawa, the world's greatest detective in the history of detectives!”

To assert his dominance, He plopped onto the chair on the side, clearly meant for Odasaku. And Dazai got the message by the way his eyebrow scrunched up.

Odasaku glanced at Ango in apology which Ango only responded with a nod.

Dazai scooted to the far left of his chair, leaning on his triple-crossing companion. “Ewww, the gremlin baby is sitting next to me! Quick, Odasaku, put him down before he spreads his rabies!”

“I’ll have you know I haven’t gotten a vaccine for tetanus either!” Ranpo shouted at Dazai, slowly creeping closer to the boy and wiggling his fingers like Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen.

“Ew, he’s a sewer baby Ango; Odasaku, save me!” Faux tears came to Dazai’s eyes as he crushed Ango in his arms. Because the elder could help with someone shattering his ribs.

Odasaku chopped his head lightly. “Behave.”

Ranpo pouted but sat adequately in his seat, waiting to order the finest apple juice this place had to offer.

Dazai returned to normal as well, sporting a pout akin to his.

Ah yes. So here Ranpo Edogawa was, drinking with three of the people the world screwed over the most. The trio leaned forwards to toast, and he leaned back. He did not want an angry Dazai on his hind for messing up one of the only good memories he could make!

“So, Ranpo-san,” Ango took a swig out of his glass before continuing, “are you a detective?”

Ranpo stared at him with the most deadpan expression he could muster. “I wonder.”

Dazai scoffed. “As if the sewer baby was a detective.” He sighed. “You’re gonna have to give us some proof of your “deductive abilities.”

“Bahaha! Of course! With my ability, Super Deduction, I can figure out anything! Just ask me something, and I’ll figure it out instantly!” Ranpo took out his glasses and slid them on his nose bridge.

Ango’s eye twitched. “So you’re an ability user?”

Ranpo rolled his eyes. “I just told you that. Odasaku, you believe me, don’t you?” He swiveled his head towards his companion wanting some backup.

Odasaku nodded, bobbing the ice sphere. “He is. He figured out how the kid's parents died without me telling him anything.”

Dazai frowned. “Lucky guess! Here fine—” Dazai turned his head towards the eldest in the room, “Odasaku, how much did you tell him about where we work?”

“Just that you’re both part of the Port Mafia.”

“Alright!” He slapped his hand on the table. “Tell me everything you can glance about me!”

Okay, he was kind of cheating with this question. The two around him had their interests piqued; they wondered what the strange small man could figure out about their enigma of a superior with just a glance. Lucky for them, Dazai was as much of an enigma to him as he was to the other two.

“Easy! You’re Port Mafia executive Osamu Dazai.” Was this going to end like what happened to the President? Dazai snapping and hurting him? “You’ve got a gun hidden in your waistcoat, and you're ambidextrous.” It was so easy to get into the rush of deductions. When you stare at someone long enough, you can understand them better than their closest friend. He could see obvious pointers, little comments he made to himself such as the state of his clothing, the difference in demeanor based on the person, the look of things as simple as his fingertips.

“You have no notable nervous ticks other than tapping your finger on a wooden surface that you mask by making it seem intimidating. You first met Odasaku when you were 16 and suicide is simply a reason for you to find yours to li—”

“That’s enough!”

Before he knew it, he was sprawled on the ground, staring up at the trio with wide eyes. Ango was between glancing at Dazai and him, unsure who to comfort. Dazai stared down at his pants, hands  shaking in barely concealed rage. Ranpo couldn’t see what expression he was making behind his bangs. And Odasaku. He took up Ranpo’s seat, leaning close to Dazai to try and help him.

He was never a part of this. He was the stranger in the closely-knit group of friends. He could never be a part of this.

He picked up his hat and made his way up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Right. Because god was dead and replaced by a rat bastard, the rain drizzled down, soaking his just-cleaned garments till Ranpo shivered.

He kept walking.

He didn’t want to walk in the cold rain, but it was better than, god forbid, Oda catching up to him and asking him to apologize to Dazai. Never! He would never say an apology; that just wasn’t how Ranpo’s worked. He showed his regret through acts of kindness and gifts, never ever apologizing.

But it wasn’t like Dazai would ever want to see him again.

Without meaning to, he ended up at the end of an alleyway. Great. The rain was falling even stronger now, like metal bricks upon the asphalt. It hurt when the raindrops pelted Ranpo’s body. He looked towards the sky and saw a few poorly dressed men, each with an object that let rain land on it and then slide down the metal.

Knives.

Ranpo’s heart dropped. If they saw him, it’d be easy to shack him for his money and leave, and he wouldn’t be able to fight back or protest or anything because he was that physically weak. He sneaked around the opposite corner than the people were at, letting the rain mask his footsteps. Then, he ran.

“Hey, over there! Stop running!” He heard a deep voice call from behind and the din of shoes on the wet floor, but Ranpo didn’t turn around. He quickly swerved around to another road, looking for something familiar to him. Something that could lead him back to Oda’s house because he couldn’t just leave the magical sword shards there!

And then he slipped and fell. Something on him kept him from face-planting, though. Ranpo looked down at his chest to find the item responsible but only saw metal glistening from the street light. Metal sharpened to the point that hurt.

Ranpo had been impaled by a throwing knife one of the men threw.

Blood crawled through his throat, forcing his mouth open to let out a wet cough. The damp asphalt tinged a darker color in response.

“Hey, we got him! Hurry, here!” A man’s voice shouted from behind him, but he couldn’t see who it was because it hurt. Pain shot through his nerves as though being slammed with a hammer. It was worse than he’d felt before, and he wanted to scream. All that came out were gurgles as his mouth filled with more vermillion liquid.

Ranpo wanted to leave. He hated this place. He wanted the President’s warm hugs, or Yosano’s affectionate cheek tugging, or any of the other Agency members to be here. He just wanted to be safe again.

As if the universe answered his pleas, an inky black circle opened beneath his body, suspending him over space before he fell through.

He was floating.

That was the only way he could describe how the vast expanse felt. Like he was on the moon and decided to let zero gravity take him away, he could see stars in the background illuminating brightly. They helped him see his hands and the stab wound that miraculously disappeared.

It was you. You are It now. Please handle It with care.

A voice boomed from all around, wrapping Ranpo in only the sound of the words spoken. Did this have to do with the Space-Time sword?

As the new Amenogozen, you unconsciously reversed the state of your body to that of a few minutes ago.

So he was a sword now?

Amenogozen is now you. You are now Amenogozen, wielder of Rain, space, and time. The only thing It requires is worship to wield It properly.

Then that would be easy! Worship was praise, and praise was the one thing he loved most in the world!

…Amenogozen knew It chose the proper wielder.

“There are a few places I need to go before we return to my time,” Ranpo said to the limitless space.

Amenogozen is compliant with all of your wishes.

A new portal opened up beneath his feet. Ranpo let it swallow him whole.

Japan from 1,500 years ago was very different from its modern counterpart. If an American were to go this far back to the past, back to Europe, they’d have no idea what was being said due to the evolution of language. Similarly, Ranpo had no idea what the people here were talking about. Screw the language barrier, seriously!

It took him an hour to find where the shrine was. As the Shinto Amenogozen, the sword used to be used for Shinto rituals until the government got their grubby hands on it and gave it to their most valuable soldier: Fukuchi. Honoring the sword was a crowd lined up to pay their respects and become purified, which, sorry!

Ranpo concentrated on where he wanted to go, feeling the space around his contract, the air tasting dull and lifeless. He closed his eyes and free fell through the floor. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at a whole crowd.

“Hello! I’m just going to” Ranpo grabbed the hilt of the sword, throwing the weapon into a hole. “Just gonna borrow this! And never return it but Anyways. Bye!” He jumped through to follow the sword. The group of people stared at where their prized sword had laid just a minute before.

And promptly fell into a rage.

When Ranpo plummeted to the floor, he lay on the cold pavement for a few seconds. He just had a very hectic week, so he deserved a moment's rest before looking up at the shitstorm he had created. He should probably come up with an explanation as to why he just fell through a space-time portal from the roof. Wait. Pavement?

Ranpo scrambled to his feet and looked around his surroundings. He was in the middle of a parking lot. A weathered building stood behind him, and to his right was a large sign that said ‘Freedom Restaurant’. He could hear screaming from inside the restaurant, and in front of him was a white van.

Nonononono.

He was at that time. The time that would break Dazai and force him to reconstruct into a better person. The time would push Oda over the edge and leave him perpetually falling until his final breath—when the world would take five innocent children for no reason other than as an incentive.

Could Ranpo let this pass to ensure the future he desired?

He righted his hat to secure it on his head, and the young man barreled towards the front door. Ranpo swiftly clasped the hilt and looked to see the mess of what had been his home for a week.

Chairs were scattered around the table. Condiments spilled on the floor. A wooden shelf had been knocked over in the haste to finish their objective and leave.

When the men heard footsteps approaching, they halted for just a moment. Pops used that moment to bat one of them over the head with a metal frying pan which launched everyone back into action. Ranpo could only watch as a cloaked man pressed the trigger of his gun, pelting the curry shop owner twice in the chest.

No.

The detective made a horizontal slash with his sword, rushing back into the restaurant and witnessing the wreck Mimic made to the shop.

When the men heard footsteps approaching, they halted for a split second. Ranpo traversed through the airspace, appearing before a soldier and making quick work of him.

As he approached the next man, sword at the ready, bangs assaulted his hearing. He had three holes in his chest.

No.

Ranpo traversed through the airspace, appearing before a soldier and making quick work of him. He fell through a hole in the floor, using the momentum granted to him to tackle the gunmen to the floor and attempt to wrestle the weapon out of his hand.

The elder yelled in pain when Amenogozen materialized through the tiles, taking his hand off the wrist. The sword went through his back twice, and he no longer twitched.

“Ranpo-kun?” Pops said hesitantly as the older man saw the mess he made of the assailants.

With his sleeve, he wiped off a splash of blood that fell to his face and turned. “Yea, Pops?”

The shop owner went to the back of the store and sped walked towards him. In his hands was a box void of dust, and inside were his sword shards.

“You…” Ranpo said softly, making his way to Pops. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Now go and help the kids. They’re in danger as well.”

Ranpo nodded. “I will.”

He emerged through the floorboards to the sight of five teary-eyed children all struggling against the older men twice their size. Yu’s console was discarded on the floor, crushed by a shoe. Books strewn across the floor accompanied a pair of shattered glasses.

“Close your eyes, brats!” He shouted and let one second pass before slicing a man’s Achilles tendon. The 22-year-old slashed another on his back and implanted the other three with a separate Amenogozen shard rendering the five to stay crumpled on the floor.

“Ranpo!”

He fell to the ground from the force of the kids jumping on him.

“Ranpo, you saved us!” Sakura buried her face into his blazer, getting snot and tears everywhere. He’d cut her slack for this only for this one moment. She needed to get this out of her system.

“Kosuke was super scared. He was shaking and everything, but not me! I knew you’d come for us!” Katsumi said from where he was squashed next to Yu and Shinji, both rendered speechless from today's event. Did they give out free therapy to those under 10? Because lord knows these kids are going to need it.

“Was not scared! I was really brave! Right, Ranpo?”

He sighed, placing a hand on both of their heads. “You all were. You all were.”

Ranpo softly dropped his head to the floor, staring at the ceiling. He pondered where he should go from here.

“Where’re you going now, Ranpo?” Sakura asked with a hand still clenched in his clothes. He carded fingers gently through her hair to take out any knots.

“Yeah, are ya’ just gonna leave us here when the bad guys could still take us?” Yu’s face threatened tears which Ranpo had no idea how to take care of, so he did the only thing he could think of.

“Of course not! Give Pops this note and have him take you to the address written on it. Just explain that Mimic almost kidnaped you and for them to shelter you for 24 hours. That’ll be enough time.” Sending this group to the place he felt safest was the best thing Ranpo could do.

“Enough time for what?” Her head cocked to the side as Sakura’s eyebrows scrunched. Was she thinking of some problematic mathematical equation or something?

“Enough time to make sure no one can get hurt again.”

Its voice broke through the silence of his head, echoing Its complaints about being used as the same thing they both agreed not to do.

I hate it too. But it’s the only way.

Just this once? Please?

It wasn’t satisfied still but quit Its refusals.

Thank you.

For the last time, Amenogozen would be painted in its enemies' blood.

He quickly turned, lowering his hat to shield his eyes from the rain he knew would soon pour.

This man is my friend

These simple words seemed so foreign to Dazai, who only had himself for many years. Yet they made so much sense. Why he enjoyed the older man’s company so much, why he was sprinting over to Freedom Restaurant to make sure he wasn’t late. Perhaps Odasaku saw Dazai the same way he saw him; a friend. Dazai knows that friends look out for each other, valuing their words and taking them to heart. Dazai needed to let Odasaku understand that this wasn’t the end and that he could continue despite his world collapsing.

Dazai didn’t know what he’d do if Odasaku didn’t.

There were police cars and fire trucks, but he couldn’t find Odasaku anywhere.

He approached a crowd member, “Excuse me, did you happen to see a man with red hair? He should be here…”

What if he was too late? What if Odasaku already went marching on to his death, and Dazai wouldn’t be able to utter the words he desperately wanted to spill out?

“Red hair, huh? Y’know, I’m pretty sure I saw a tall man like that, right?”

Dazai nodded fervently.

“Yeah, he ran off into the distance a while ago. I think he was handed a note by one of the officers. Couldn’t see well, though.” She scratched her cheek, looking everywhere but at him. “Sorry.”

He managed a smile. “It’s all fine, miss. You have a wonderful day.” And sprinted.

A person would not rush to death if they were confident it was coming. So then, why would he run towards Gide’s hideout? What was the merit of that? You run to go quicker, to try and beat someone in a race, to catch someone up.

Catch someone up.

Ranpo-san.

Dazai took a deep breath.

And took off towards his friend and his companion.

Gide frowned at the sight of the brown-clothes detective.

“You are not the one I wanted.”

Ranpo smiled, pointing Amenogozen to his chest.

“Yeah, well, I’m the one you’re gonna get.”

How could Ranpo fight this man? He had the perfect counter to his attacks. He would have to—

Two bullets flew perfectly through his chest. Blood spurted out of the holes in his chest as he fell to his knees.

.

“Yeah, well, I’m the one you’re gonna get.” Ranpo jumped to the side, forming holes for his sword to go through and stab at Gide.

The man easily dodged, shooting two more bullets that passed through Ranpo as he appeared behind Gide.

He ducked, rolling away before shooting him square in the jaw.

.

He ducked, rolling away before shooting at him. Ranpo fell on all fours as the bullet landed right where his face was.

The Mimic leader laughed. “You’ve never used a sword before, have you? It’s clear that the sword is brand new in your hands, yet you manage to evade all of my attacks. I wonder.” He pointed the muzzle to the back of his head.

Ranpo felt the cold metal dig into his skull painfully. A portal teleported him over Gide, who ducked out of his sword's reach.

To win, he’d have to fight for longer than six seconds.

He completed his fall with a roll, concentrating all his strength on the opening of dozens of portals of which shards of Amenogozen, of him, emerged.

“I hope you can dodge all of these.” Ranpo’s grin sharpened at the edges.

The first piece flew forwards, and Ranpo followed.

Each fragment attempted to embed into Gide’s skin a deadly tango with sunshine reflecting off the sword as the stage lights. Andre and Edogawa, the performers, continued with their assaults. Gide could barely dodge or block the onslaught of metal and was forced to defend. With his Walther, he shot the large ones and used his coat to batter away the minuscule pieces. Ranpo was forced to admit it was a good strategy.

As the two continued their dangerous dance, the slam of the hall doors opening awakened them from their battle-poised mind.

Two shots from a familiar-looking pistol rang from its barrel, temporarily making Gide focus on his ability parallel.

“Ranpo!”

The detective raised his katana high into the air, shooting it forward through tunnels to increase its velocity until it poked through the ribs of the man he'd fought for the past half hour.

Pains he didn't know he'd gotten came to life slowly, like the trickle of water in a barren basin or the rotting of spoiled fruits.

“Ranpo! Ranpo, are you alright?” The face of Oda blocked his view of the roof. Since when has he fallen to the ground?

“Just dandy.” He grunted, reluctantly taking his hand and leaning on him for support. They stumbled towards the soldering body of Gide, watching him take weak coughs.

“I... I knew you’d have that ability, Detective.” He whispered. “Every time I’d think to attack you… you’d already be out of the way. Thank you for granting me my wish.” Ranpo watched dully as his eyes glazed over and his chest stopped moving.

“I’m tirreddddd, ugh. A piggyback ride, Oda,” he demanded. His knees were so weak he couldn’t even stand up alone!

“Alright, Ranpo.” Oda carefully maneuvered him onto his back, finding a spot comfortable for them both. It spoke to his years of practice with how quickly he could do that, but considering how Oda took care of five children, that was easily explained.

After a minute of awkward silence, Oda decided to start the conversation.

“So… I want to apologize for not helping you as well that day. Dazai needed to be calmed down, though. I hope you understand. When he had gotten better, I turned to help you, but you’d already left, and when I went to the Freedom Restaurant the day after, you hadn’t even gotten your sword shards back. Then, a few months passed, and then.. this happened.” He said it in his typical monotone voice, but Ranpo could detect traces of worry, sadness, and guilt in his tone as well.

His inability to properly wield Amenogozen showed at times like these. Where for him, it’d been about a day of going back centuries to pick up his katana, for the past-present here, it’d been months.

Y’know, we should get this bug fixed for real.

It knows that it’s not a ‘bug.’

“Baha! Do you seriously think the great master detective Ranpo Edogawa would've been in danger? Calm down!” He repeatedly slapped Oda’s back. “As if! I left Bar Lupin and then realized! I don’t know how to get back! So I was wandering around until I found the restaurant by accident and happened upon a terrible sight!” Yes, Ranpo, keep on lying like that! Maybe he could convince himself that was what happened.

“Oh, I see then.”

The patter of footsteps upon tile alerted the two of another person entering the hall. Odasaku and Ranpo prepared for battle only to see a sweaty Dazai holding onto the door frame and heaving breaths.

“Ranpo..san.! Odasaku!! Please don’t fight Gide!” When Dazai looked up, it was the man, as mentioned earlier, on the floor, dead. “Eh?”

Beneath him, Odasaku shrugged. “Ask Ranpo.”

“Ranpo..san? What did you do?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Nothin’ much.”

“.. Right.”

They had gone outside the building to ignore all of the bloodshed inside. Someone would have to clean that mess up, and that sure as hell wouldn’t be Ranpo.

“So, what’re you two gonna do from here?” He leaned against the bark of a tree and looked at the two men near him. “I mean, the Port Mafia was setting you up to die,” he nodded at Odasaku, “and set you to be completely neutral in your response to this.” He flopped his hand to Dazai.

The brunette towards Ranpo. “Not sure, but, Ranpo-san? I want to apologize for pushing you off your chair. I’ve come to realize that Ranpo-san is very.. cool.”

Dazai?? Apologizing??? Was the sky about to fall? Was it raining actual cats and dogs??

“Pfft, don’t apologize. I deserved it, honestly. If you both don’t have anywhere to go.” Ranpo typed an address to Odasaku’s number. He hadn’t checked it at all while he’d been away but looking at it now, his phone was bombarded with texts.

Odasaku got a notification. When he opened it in maps, it was not too far away.

“Join the agency!” He beamed.

Their confused faces would fuel his laughter for a lifetime.

Perhaps Ranpo should have expected the timeline to break a bit. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t think about the consequences of his actions! It was a chronic condition!! He’d passed along a note Dazai would give the Ranpo of their time. The past-him would love this mystery. He’d figure it out in minutes.

The detective had sent the two on their way, not entirely reassuring them that this was an occupation they could handle, but that wasn’t his job. It was everyone in the Agency.

Alone in the deep forest, he took out Amenogozen. A single slash would take him back to his future, where, for whatever reason, Atsushi and Akutagawa would still be on the boat.

What would happen to Fukuchi? He could never have the time-space sword, so would he still be aiming for the agency? Would he still be part of the Decay of Angels? What if he had ruined the future so severely that by the time he came back, everyone was dead?

Ranpo’s cowardice could not be the cause to even glance at them, though. He adjusted the handle in his hand and slashed down. With wide steps, he went through—

—walking right into the middle of the Agency, where he caught the wide eyes of Odasaku doing paperwork and Dazai, who fell off his couch.

Dazai let out a high-pitched scream that would scar his ears for the rest of his life.

“So, magic space sword, huh?” Dazai said after he took a swig of his lukewarm tea.

“I win, Dazai. Pay up.”

“So unfair!” Dazai pouted but took out a large wad of cash from his wallet.

“You placed a bet on me!?” Ranpo screeched out in surprise. Dazai placing bets he could understand, but Odasaku??

“We both could tell you weren’t acting the same at all. Dazai thought it was because of amnesia; I knew it was because that wasn’t even you.”

“Please tell us, detective! What the fuck!” Dazai asked with a cheery, all too fake smile. Just like the Dazai he used to know.

Ranpo sighed but began his tale. “It all started four years ago, with Gide and business permit on the line..”

This isn’t the future he knew or the one he hoped for. But this is the one he was granted, and Ranpo would do everything he could to keep it.

It will help you every step of the way.

I know.

Ranpo smiled.