Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 3 Chapter 4 Part 5

Chapter 4 Part 5

“…”
Ranpo didn’t say a word. Just then, the stage got dark, and lights began to shine one by one over the audience.
“We will now be having a fifteen-minute intermission. Part two will begin at six twenty.”
A broadcast sounded throughout the entire theater.
Fukuzawa thought back to the program. He’d almost forgotten there was going to be a break in the middle of the show.
Shadowy figures began standing and chatting. “Come with me.”
Fukuzawa took Ranpo’s hand, but Ranpo was in a foul mood and looked away without even budging.
“Now!”
After forcing Ranpo out of his seat, Fukuzawa dragged him out of the auditorium.
They walked over to a few square seats in the lobby away from the crowd. Ranpo was sitting, albeit sulking, while Fukuzawa was standing right in front of him. Ranpo was fidgeting with his sleeves, so upset he couldn’t sit still. Fukuzawa watched him without saying a word. Before long, five minutes of unchanging silence had passed.
“Okay,” muttered Ranpo as if he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Get it over with. Give me your lecture. I’ve been chewed out like this by tons of people at my past jobs, so I know it’s coming. I know what you’re going to say, too.”
“You’re surprisingly self-aware,” noted Fukuzawa, his voice low.
“I’m gonna be scolded because I did something wrong, right? If so, then it’d actually make me feel a little better. It’s an easy concept to grasp.”
“…You’re right.”
Fukuzawa pondered. He wasn’t a person who could teach something to this kid. He had always avoided giving guidance to others his entire life. This was the first time he ever regretted that. Fukuzawa had to tell him something. This teenager was at the edge of the cliff, leaning forward.

“Tell me about your parents.” Fukuzawa made sure to select his words wisely. “Did they say anything about your gift?”
“My ‘gift’?” Ranpo furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t be having trouble finding a job right now if I had a gift.”
“Then… Did they say anything to you about your future?”
“Uh… My father always said, ‘One day, you’re going to surpass your mother and me, and you’re going to win the admiration of all those around you. But now’s not that time. Stay humble and keep your silence. Always be modest. Just quietly observe and don’t hurt others with what you discover.’ …Or something like that. I don’t really know what he meant, though.”
I figured.
Fukuzawa quietly nodded.
So his father knew, after all. He understood that Ranpo possessed an extraordinary gift. He knew his son had the special ability to observe, remember, and uncover the truth in the blink of an eye. That was why he sealed it away. He didn’t want Ranpo to go astray, to ever hurt others and make the world his enemy. His father wanted Ranpo to learn virtue and what’s right just like any ordinary person until he had grown up with good judgment and knowledge.
He was protecting him, creating a transparent cocoon to protect his extraordinary gift from this strange world. Ranpo’s parents raised him like an ordinary child. What an astounding deed that must have been. How difficult it must have been to convince him that the world he saw was normal and nothing he knew was anything other than common sense. But Ranpo’s parents did that with their extraordinary minds. What was such a feat, if not unconditional love? But long before Ranpo had fully matured— far before Ranpo was ready for the world—they departed this life. An immature yet gifted larva was stripped of his cocoon and abandoned.
The palms of Fukuzawa’s clenched fists began to sweat. No matter how strong his opponent was, he never experienced fear like this. The larva was without shelter. He was only moments away from being crushed by the outside world. If Fukuzawa didn’t use just the right amount of force, then the damage would be irreparable. While hesitant, Fukuzawa finally spoke up.
“You…have a gift. A gift to observe and deduce. Nobody has ever figured out my past job. Nobody knew who really killed the president of that company other than you. You’re special, Ranpo, and if you so desire, you will become a greater mind than even your parents.”
“As if.” Ranpo immediately shot down the claim. “My parents were amazing. There’s no surpassing them to reach the top because they were the top. Neither of them ever told me once that I had a gift, and I believe them.” He was stubborn. The protective wall his parents created was thick. That wall protected Ranpo from a world of ordinary people who would fear and fail to understand him, yes, but it was also what rendered him unable to step
into the outside world.
“During the play, you were able to guess who the killer was,” Fukuzawa continued. “And at that point in the performance, you were probably the only one in the audience who had. I myself didn’t know until I finished the script.”
“Huh?” Ranpo gave a distinctly inquiring look. “Don’t lie to me. If I figured it out, surely an adult would have no problem.”
The discussion was going in circles. He didn’t understand others because he didn’t think he was special. He didn’t think he was special because he didn’t understand others, which only confirmed what his parents had told him. It was unyielding logic that fed off each other, and the only way to break through was to shine light on something completely new.
Something different.
A new factor that Ranpo hadn’t even thought of.
“Tell me this.” Fukuzawa persevered. “Have you ever thought the people around you were stupid? That they were a bunch of fools who didn’t understand a thing?”
“…”
Ranpo sent Fukuzawa a skeptical glance, and a few moments went by before he answered.
“…I have.”
“That’s it. Believe in that feeling. You have a gift, but everyone else is a fool, including me. The reason why you’re all alone is because of your talents. Utilize them. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
“Don’t think you can control me with a few compliments.” Ranpo slightly averted his gaze. “My mother told me to never look down on others. Besides, why would only I be special? There are so many people in the city, so why would I be the only special one?” “That’s because…”
I’m almost there. I can’t allow myself to mess up now.
The time for decision was near. Fukuzawa wasn’t an eloquent speaker. He wasn’t someone who could manipulate others with his words. There was only one card left up his sleeve that he could play.
Sincerity.
“You were right,” admitted Fukuzawa. “I used to carry a sword at my waist. From an early age, I trained at a government-run school of martial arts. I was one of the five greatest swordsmen in the government, known as Goken. I truly thought my sword was for the peace and welfare of the nation… And I killed for that belief.”
Fukuzawa stared off into the distance. Ranpo carefully observed his expressions.
“Assassinations were extremely simple. I had an overwhelming advantage, and not even once had I ever struggled in battle. It started to frighten me when I noticed I was looking forward to my next mission. I no longer knew if I was killing for the country or killing for the enjoyment of it. That was when I decided to permanently lay down my sword.”
Fukuzawa remained calm as he spoke.
Why am I telling him this? Why am I telling this kid something I’ve never told anyone before?
But the words continuously crawled out of the depths of his heart and poured out of his mouth.
“Power must be kept in check. Power that cannot be controlled must be discarded. If you refuse to acknowledge your gift, you are no different from the bloodthirsty man I used to be. You must recognize your talents, especially now that your parents are gone.”
Fukuzawa yearned to speak more eloquently. He didn’t need the ability to fire up an entire crowd, or even the sort of inane flattery that could rouse the populace. All he wanted was to be able to tell a little white lie so that this kid could see the simple truth.
“I get what you’re saying, but…” Ranpo scowled hard at Fukuzawa while remaining seated. “But—then tell me. What am I? What were my parents telling me? Make me understand why I’m here—why I’m like this. If you can do that, then I’ll believe you.”

Ranpo was no longer sulking. Instead, he was honestly looking for an answer—something he’d never done before. And Fukuzawa was the only one who could give it to him.
“The intermission is about to end. Please return to your seats.”
The announcement played over the intercom. The few people around started to walk away and head back to their seats, and Ranpo was already looking toward the small crowd.
Fukuzawa didn’t have much time. If he let this chance go by, Ranpo would probably never seek answers again.
“That’s because…”
Fukuzawa paused midsentence.
Anything. Anything would do. He just needed to say something.
He had already used the ace up his sleeve: sincerity. He wasn’t good at persuading others or speaking eloquently, either. He was even worse at lying. Just then…Fukuzawa suddenly caught sight of the script rolled up in Ranpo’s hand. The troupe had given it to him, but he hadn’t made it past the first paragraph before getting bored. As if by reflex, Fukuzawa said:
“Because you’re a skill user.”
Ranpo seemed perplexed. “…What?”
“A skill user,” repeated Fukuzawa. Even he still wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying. “The reason you’re special is because you’re a skill user. Your skill awakened when your parents died. That’s…that’s precisely it.”
“A skill user…? Why?”
Ranpo’s eyes darted about in abject confusion. This was essentially the first time Fukuzawa had experienced something like this in his life. More precisely—he had never spoken so impulsively.
“It’s all because of your skill. You can see the truth with nothing more than a simple glance. They spoke about it in the play, right? There are people in this world who possess supernatural abilities. And skills don’t always make the possessor happy. Yours is the reason why you’re in pain and why everyone seems like a monster.”
“…???” Ranpo was at a loss. He blinked in silent confusion. “You have to control your skill.”
Fukuzawa gave thanks to his daily training. He had no idea what he was saying, but his heart was racing, and cold sweat dripped from his palms.