Prey and Predator [Ranpo x Reader] + Bonus ✓

19. Family

I will leave this particular account unnamed due to being unsure of how to properly provide its title. It's not a case, but a mere collection based on curiosity.

There is this small boy going around the city rumoured to be moving from job to job, showing indiscipline and annoying every employer on the way. There's nothing about him that makes him stand out, really, but there's something beyond that early teen rebellious act, I'm sure of it.

I met him for the first time not too long ago - perhaps a while ago, but that is irrelevant; an older male had called the police, and I could not pretend to not have been interested in their hurry (I will lose my job one of these days if I keep this up, forgive me chief). I wasn't able to get intel on the case but I managed to lay eyes on him: the petit and troublesome black-haired talk of the neighbourhood.

Then he was present at a play not so long after that. He kept bothering the audience surrounding him and the older male I'd seen him with before during that earlier rendezvous too. My ears may have deceived me, but had he announced that both his parents were dead? - I suppose it can happen to anyone, really, in the society we live in... but isn't he too young to have healed enough? Does that explain his behaviour? Hasn't be matured enough?

A third time came by. The police were summoned by my partner and me, who, by mere coincidence, noticed strange activity in a place I don't quite remember now... I caught a glimpse of that familiar black hair; the majority of citizens around Yokohama had the same colour, but the boy's stood out for some particular reason I cannot yet decipher.

Sometime later he was taken, hostage. Kidnapped. And rescued while the police had not arrived at the scene - rescued by that older male who always seemed to be with him.

I was called out by the boy and exposed for observing from behind a line of bushes; his accent was foreign compared to that of Yokohama natives - he must be from elsewhere: "If you want to learn from the greatest detective in the city then show yourself!" - he said - "Detectives can learn from detectives also! The great Ranpo has loads on offer!".

Ranpo was his name. Foreign was his accent. His tone definitely unbearable if heard for more than a couple of minutes. But there is something about the attitude to life's small drawbacks he adopted.

"Detective, you say?" "The greatest! Of the Armed Detective Agency!"

There was only so much to take from these few paragraphs that I could hardly see where to begin; much unlike all other cases my father had written, these lacked major details, like he had forgotten the plot of a particular novel he had read and enjoyed, but his interest in the subject of the writings remained the protagonist of the pages.

'Where do I start?'

'From the beginning.'

'Thanks, Sherlock,' I shot back, then gave the book a quick skim again. 'He never told me of you... This sounds so different compared to every other case he's written... it barely feels like it was written by him, really.'

'That's because I was never really a case. I didn't need to be, anyway. And even if I was in his eyes, I remained an unsolved one to him.'

I addressed every line of content, and for each, I received a short reply, concise enough to bring together into a summary:

He was an orphan from outside the city. He had a distaste for all jobs he had sought before becoming a detective and managed to get kidnapped on his first independent venture after joining the newly founded agency (that last point tainted his pride, no doubt).

'Your brother's read that journal before you. Now,' He looked back at me and fiddled with the plastic wrapper of the packet of biscuits on the table and took one out. 'Do you believe me when I say your brother ultimately knew who I was?'