Chapter Text
For a lot of people, family is the most important thing in their lives.
Murase could theoretically understand the appeal, but he had never really had a family of his own. His parents had passed away when he was too young to remember them and his (much) older brother had joined the military and disappeared from his life the moment he turned eighteen. Murase had spent most of his childhood moving from one foster house to another, yet none of them had been home.
He wasn’t against the idea of getting married or building a family, but at age thirty four with no serious romantic relationship under his belt, he had started to doubt that that future was for him. Murase was fine with it; he had a stable job and plenty of friends and colleagues he spent quality time with on a regular basis. He didn’t need to become a father to have a fulfilling life. Taking into account the lack of parental figures in his life, he doubted he would be any good at it anyway.
It was a regular day.
Murase was on patrol around the city, which he much preferred from being stuck at the office doing paperwork and waiting for something to happen to get him out of the station. It was almost the end of his shift when his car’s radio informed him of an ongoing robbery at a bakery near his location. Murase turned right and only had to drive three blocks to find the place.
A middle aged woman was waiting for him at the entrance of the shop, hands on her hips and an angry expression on her face.
“Finally! The police is here!” she yelled exasperatedly. “I’ve caught the perpetrator. Come arrest him, officer!”
There were a few things that Murase expected to see as he entered the shop. Robberies weren’t uncommon at this part of the city, especially after the explosion that had left countless people homeless a few weeks prior, though a bakery was an unlikely place for them to happen. Murase looked around for the perpetrator the shop owner kept shouting about, weapon ready to be grabbed on his side, when his eyes fell on a small child curled up on the floor under a chair.
The chair wasn’t particularly big; it was a regular chair that had clearly been thrown at the kid by the small statured middle aged woman who couldn’t be that strong. Yet the kid was simply lying under it, looking like he was being crushed under the weight of it.
“Are you okay?” Murase rushed ahead, lifting the chair off of him and reaching forward to help him sit up. The boy flinched away from his touch, curling up even further on himself. Murase returned his arms to his sides, not wanting to terrify the kid even more.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you arresting him?” The woman bellowed.
“Ma’am, this is a small child.” Murase tried to keep his tone even, no matter how angry at her he was for the kid’s sake.
The boy didn’t look older than six. His hair was long and clearly unkempt, and his clothes were dirty and ripped and way too big for him. The hollowness of his cheeks betrayed the reason why he had tried to steal food. Looking at him more carefully, Murase noticed that he was clenching something on his small hands.
“And what of it? If he is a robber then he is a robber! I don’t care about his age!” The woman continued, undeterred. “If we let him get away with stealing he is just going to grow up to be an even bigger criminal!”
“Ma’am, let me take care of this,” Murase tried again. The boy was trembling. Murase wasn’t sure if it was from fear or if he was cold. Autumn had barely started, but it wouldn't be strange for a small child that malnourished to feel the evening chill.
“You better take care of this by arresting him! He had the nerve to try to grab one of my fresh loafs right under my nose! Does he think I’m blind?!”
Murase decided he wasn’t going to pay any further attention to a woman who clearly lacked any sort of compassion. He kneeled next to the boy and told him, quietly, “Hey, I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? We can find you something better to eat.” The boy didn’t move or respond so he added, “Don’t worry, I’m not arresting you. You’re fine.”
There was still no acknowledgement. Murase looked at the reddish-brown mop of hair on his head and his blue eyes and wondered if perhaps the boy was foreign and didn’t understand Japanese. Murase didn’t speak any other language though, so he tried again in Japanese using simple words.
“It’s okay. I will help you. Me” —he pointed at himself— “help you” —he pointed to the boy— “Okay?”
The kid’s gaze, wide and still terrified, hesitantly turned towards him. Murase smiled as kindly as he could at him, an unfamiliar urge to make the child feel as safe as possible. The both of them ignored the lady’s shouts in the background as they made eye contact for several seconds. Eventually, it seemed as if the kid had found what he was looking for in his gaze and slowly started to uncurl himself. He still flinched when Murase reached forward to help him get up, but he let him take hold of one of his hands. The other one still had a strong grip on the loaf of bread he must have been caught stealing; strong enough that he had crushed it in his tiny fist, quite impressively.
“Where are you taking him? Who’s going to pay for the bread he stole?” The woman stood in front of the entrance blocking it.
Murase really didn’t want to deal with her any longer. He wanted to take the kid to a safe place and get him as much food as he needed to stop looking like he was a second away from collapsing. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and handed the lady more than enough money for the loaf.
“There, let us go now before I arrest you for assaulting a minor and interfering with police work.”
Though the scowl didn’t leave the woman’s face, she begrudgingly stepped aside to let them pass without further resistance. The little boy held on tightly to his hand until they reached the car. Murase opened the door for him and was ready to lift him to help him in, when the boy practically leapt to the seat before Murase could even blink.
Huh, that was strange, he thought as he secured his seatbelt and closed the door. He wished he had a car seat for him, but this would have to do. He paused to sent a quick text to one of his trusted colleagues, Tanaka, before moving to get on the driver’s seat
The extent of his malnourishment betrayed that he had spent a significant part of his life not being fed properly, not just a week or two. He was small and looked frail but he clearly wasn’t as weak as he seemed. The oversized clothes he was wearing were, at closer inspection, a military uniform. Who was this kid and where had he come from? Murase needed to figure it out, but he needed to be careful. The more he thought about it, the more suspicious the situation got. If the boy had escaped from some kind of military base, then he couldn’t let them know he had him.
He stared at him through the rearview mirror for a few seconds before starting the car. There was an intense feeling inside his chest that he couldn’t yet identify.
“You can eat that bread, you know,” he told the kid.
He wasn’t expecting an answer, but there it was, a quiet, hoarse voice asked, “Bread?”
“Yeah, you can eat the bread.”
“This is bread?” The boy cleared his throat, like he wasn’t used to speaking.
“It’s bread, yes,” Murase replied, slightly confused.
“Can you eat it?”
The realization hit Murase violently. The kid didn’t know what bread was.
“Yes, you— you can eat it. I’ll get you more food, okay?”
The boy didn’t reply to him, but Murase was happy to hear him chew as he made his way back to the station. He had people at work he knew he could trust to help him discreetly with this matter.
“My name is Murase, by the way,” he suddenly remembered to introduce himself. “What’s your name?” He really hoped the boy knew at least that.
“Chuuya.”
That was a start.
“Do you know your last name?”
“No.”
“Alright, that’s okay. Do you know how old you are, Chuuya?”
“No.”
“No? Okay. Do you know your parents’ names?”
“...No.” His answer came more hesitant.
“You don’t remember their names?” Murase tried.
“I— I don’t think I have parents.”
There wasn’t much Murase could reply to that. He knew he had to pester the boy for more information in order to identify him, but he didn’t want to pressure him any further at the moment.
Chuuya, surprisingly, let Murase carry him to his office once they reached the station. Murase covered him with his jacket, knowing that the station tended to be chilly at this time of the night.
Tanaka was waiting for them at their shared office. Murase immediately spotted the kid’s clothes and food he had asked him to bring on his desk.
“I hope I got the right size, Mura.”
“Thanks, Tanaka, I’m sure it will do,” he replied gratefully, Chuuya still perched on his hip. The boy was looking at his colleague suspiciously.
“This is the kid?” Tanaka asked. Chuuya turned his gaze away.
“Yes, I’m gonna let him change and eat before we do anything else.”
“Alright. Do you want me to wait with him while you go update the Chief Inspector?”
Chuuya tightened his grip on him. Murase momentarily thought the kid weighed more than he had before.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll take him with me there later. Your shift is already over, Tanaka. You go home first.”
“You sure you don’t need more help with him?” his friend raised an eyebrow.
Tanaka had two sons, a seven year old and a three year old, so Murase had thought he was the best person he could ask for help considering the situation. He wasn’t at all confident that he didn’t need more help, but Chuuya was burying his face further and further into his chest the more Tanaka stayed in the room.
“I got it for now. I’ll call if I need any help.”
“Alright. I’ll text you the number of the boys’ physician. If you tell her the situation I’m sure she can squeeze you in tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Tanaka. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Or so I’ve been told,” Tanaka said as he turned to leave.
Murase waited for him to close the door to gently lower the kid to the ground.
“Alright Chuuya, you’re gonna need a bath later but let’s get you into some clothes that fit you for now and then you can eat all you want.”
Chuuya nodded. Murase randomly picked a change of clothes for him, making sure to include a jacket too, and handed them to him. He waited patiently for Chuuya to change into them, only offering to help when the boy struggled with the zipper of the jacket.
“Do you have more bread?” Chuuya asked quietly while Murase was still crouched in front of him. Murase didn’t miss the hopefulness in his stormy blue eyes. Though it hadn’t even been an hour since he had met the boy, his heart broke thinking about the implications of a child this young being excited about bread.
“No, buddy, I’m— I’m sorry.” Chuuya didn’t complain, but he lowered his gaze to the floor in clear disappointment. “But hey, Tanaka brought a delicious meal for you, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. And I promise I will buy you all the bread you want tomorrow, alright?”
“Alright,” the boy replied, turning curiously to the bag of takeout on the desk. Murase figured out he would have to teach him a few more things.
Murase made it three whole days before he had to ask for help.
Chuuya was already asleep in his bedroom —the one Murase had let him have since there was only one in the house and he wanted the little boy to be comfortable— when Murase escaped to the balcony to call the only person he could think of that could possibly help him in this situation.
“Hello?”
“Fukuzawa, I need reinforcements,” he said instead of a greeting.
“What kind of reinforcements?” his friend asked quickly and steadily, most likely believing it was a work request.
“Well, this is a long story but the gist of it is that I’m currently fostering a seven year old boy in my house.”
Fukuzawa was quiet for a moment before asking, “How did you acquire this child?”
Murase snorted. “A little differently than you did.” He gave Fukuzawa the story, excluding his thoughts about Chuuya’s potential past —he didn’t want to risk having that conversation over the phone— and added, “He looks like he’s barely six but the doctor thinks he’s most likely seven. We’ve been looking through all reports about missing kids in the past seven years but there’s still nothing. I’m supposed to be looking after him until we find his family, but— I don’t think we will.” He couldn’t elaborate on why at the moment but Fukuzawa didn’t question him. The man always had great instincts.
“Are you planning on keeping him with you if you don’t find them?”
That was a good question, one that Murase had spent three nights lying on his old futon in the living room thinking about. Chuuyas was a very cute little boy, there was a chance that if he went into the system there would be a family interested in adopting him, but Murase had spent way too long in group homes and foster houses to see not only himself, but a lot of kids grow up without ever getting out of it.
Murase didn’t want that uncertain life for him. It was clear that the boy had already gone through more than enough than someone his age should have, he deserved something stable. Could he give that to him? What did he even know about being a parent? Though his doubts were high, there was a protective instinct building inside of him that overwhelmed them. If he kept Chuuya close, he could keep him safe from whatever mess he had escaped from. Letting him live with an unsuspecting family would be a risk on its own.
“I’m— thinking about it, yes,” he told Fukuzawa. “I know it’s sudden, but I want to.”
“You know I can’t judge you on this,” his friend replied, tone light. It had been a surprise when Fukuzawa had shown up to the station one day with a young teenage boy following him around, but Murase had understood, even if Fukuzawa was still refusing to call himself a dad.
“This is why I called you actually. As of recently, you have a kid.”
“Ranpo is fourteen though, not seven.”
“Sure sure, but I don’t know who else to ask. I have friends with kids of their own but having a kid with your wife and picking up a kid from the street are two different experiences. Tanaka gave me a few clothes his oldest has outgrown and Suzuki brought me kids’ books and toys, but— this isn’t what I’m struggling with.”
Murase could figure out the technical parts of raising a kid. He was a decent cook (and Chuuya’s standards weren’t very high), he had taken care of younger kids when he was a teenager in group homes, he had friends to help him with clothes and toys and doctors’ numbers.
“Chuuya, he— he barely talks to me. I don't know how I can get him to open up.”
“Ranpo hasn’t stopped talking to me since the day I met him,” Fukuzawa fired back instantly. Murase could tell he was hesitant about claiming any credit about the promising young man Ranpo was growing up to be even in the few months he had started living with him, but Murase knew it had been Fukuzawa’s influence that had helped the boy. Besides, talking and opening up weren’t necessarily the same thing.
“Okay, clearly they don't have the same personality, but I really don’t know what to do here, Yukichi.”
“I want to help you, Mura, I just don’t know if I’m the right person for this.”
“You are.”
Fukuzawa sighed. “I can come by tomorrow for a chat. Are you on shift?”
“I’ve been on desk duty in the past few days so I can have Chuuya with me. I’ll be free after four. And hey, bring Ranpo along. Chuuya seems very guarded around adult men, maybe it will make him feel more comfortable to have another kid around.”
“Alright, we can bribe him with treats.”
The following day, as promised, the bell rang around 4:30 PM. Chuuya curiously followed behind Murase as he made his way to the door and practically hid behind his leg when he opened the door. Murase almost stepped on him when he went to take a step back to let their guests in.
“Welcome guys, it’s good to see you again.” Murase took a more careful step back, mindful of the small person attached to him.
“Thank you for having us over, Mura.” Fukuzawa’s smile was gentle when he spotted Chuuya peeking at him from behind Murase.
Ranpo on the other hand, only looked towards the kitchen. “I was promised donuts, old man.”
“Oh, Chuuya and I bought powdered sugar ones on our way home. Chuuya really likes them.” That was an understatement. Chuuya had eaten three of them in quick succession and probably still had sugar on his face.
Ranpo’s gaze turned to Chuuya. He took one good look at him, still half hidden behind Murase, and said, “Wow, he’s a baby.”
Chuuya suddenly stepped around Murase, almost tripping him with his speed, and stood confidently in front of Ranpo, all 109 cm of him.
“Hey, I’m not a baby! I'm seven!” He said —hands on his hips and a scowl on his little face— far louder than Murase had ever heard him speak.
He turned to Fukuzawa at his side with a confused look and whispered, “He’s never had that attitude with me.”
“And I'm fourteen, so you're a baby,” Ranpo didn’t lose a moment to argue back.
“I'm not!” Chuuya practically yelled. He then turned to Murase, clearly frustrated. “Tell him I'm not a baby!”
“Uhm,” Murase started hesitantly. “He's not a baby.” Even if he looks like one.
“Ha!” Chuuya laughed and then faced Ranpo with a smug look, and even if this wasn’t exactly the attitude Murase wanted to teach him to have, he was so happy to see him finally act like the little kid he was that he felt his eyes fill up with tears. “And you’re a kid too!”
“At least I'm not a baby like you!” Ranpo seamlessly matched the younger boy’s attitude.
“Ranpo,” Fukuzawa interrupted them. “Be nice.”
“Maybe after I get my donuts.”
Chuuya immediately shot Murase a distressed look. Murase gently patted him on the back and reassured him, “There are enough for both of you, don’t worry.”
“Chuuya has clearly eaten some already. Is all that sugar good for a baby?” Ranpo asked nonchalantly, and then dashed to the kitchen. Chuuya followed behind him without missing a beat.
“The feistiness is new,” Murase addressed Fukuzawa as they watched the kids try to trip each other up to get to the kitchen door first.
“Ranpo has that effect on people sometimes,” his friend replied, obviously amused.
Murase chuckled, his eyes still a little wet. “Come on, let’s go before they start a war in there.”
Not even a minute had passed when the two of them joined the kids in the kitchen, yet they found Chuuya hanging by the ceiling light, one hand casually holding himself up while the other tightly held on to the box of donuts, and Ranpo trying to balance himself on a chair to reach it.
“This is also new,” Murase informed Fukuzawa, gaping at the sight.
Ranpo’s finger managed to touch the box. Chuuya swiftly moved even higher, taking a seat on top of the ceiling light where Ranpo couldn’t reach him anymore. He opened the box and shoved a donut in his mouth.
“This isn’t fair! The donuts were for me!”
Ranpo only attempted to jump on the chair once before he gave up on the task and turned to Fukuzawa instead, exaggeratedly pouting. He didn't seem fazed by Chuuya’s apparent ability in the slightest. Murase certainly didn’t share the sentiment.
“That’s gotta be a skill, right?” he asked Fukuzawa. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Chuuya for more than a second, afraid that something could happen and he would fall.
Fukuzawa nodded, a serious look on his face as he observed Chuuya (who was sticking his tongue out at a frustrated Ranpo). Murase could guess where his mind had gone. Even if he hadn’t given his friend the full story yet, he was sure he had figured out why he had hesitated to share some parts of it.
A young undernourished kid who had suddenly appeared dressed in a military uniform and possessed an impressive skill that he didn’t seem to struggle to control… It was suspicious to say the least.
There had been rumors about the military doing human experimentation ever since the war reached Japan, though nothing had been proven. Murase was a mere police officer; a scandal of that caliber wasn’t something he could ever investigate alone. But, perhaps, if he had the newfounded Armed Detective Agency on his side, he could at least get the necessary information in order to protect Chuuya.
First though, he needed to get the kid on the ground.
“He can… fly?” Murase wondered aloud.
“It's gravity manipulation.” He didn’t have to look at Ranpo to know he was rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know if this is more or less troublesome.”
Murase could only imagine the shenanigans a seven year old could get up to with that kind of skill. Could Chuuya float? How did he activate his ability? Did he have to worry about him accidentally flying away in his sleep? How would he reach him if Chuuya started hanging out at the ceiling?
“Uhm, Chuuya, can you come down please? I know you really like those donuts but you need to learn how to share. Ranpo is our guest, it’s not polite to not let him have some too.”
“Or the whole box,” Ranpo tried to correct. Fukuzawa immediately shushed him.
Chuuya, still chewing on the donut, looked down on Murase. His voice was sad when he said, “You told me I can eat whatever I want.”
“You can,” Murase rushed to reassure him. His heart broke every time Chuuya used that dejected tone. “But food tastes better when you share it with friends. Come down and we can all share.”
Chuuya stared at him intensely for several moments, something that Murase had started to interpret as the boy trying to decide if he was going to believe whatever he had told him. This time too, it seemed that he did. With an effortless hop, Chuuya jumped down from the ceiling light and soundlessly landed on the floor, the box of donuts perfectly safe in his hands.
Before Ranpo could snatch it away (most likely because Fukuzawa was holding him back), Chuuya got on his tiptoes and set the box on the table. “We can share,” he said quietly.
“Finally!” Ranpo, free from Fukuzawa’s grasp, rushed forward to grab one donut in each hand and simultaneously bite them both.
Chuuya then turned the box towards where Fukuzawa was standing. His demeanor was more meek when he addressed him, “Do you want one too, sir?”
“Sure, thank you.” Fukuzawa carefully took one out of the box. Murase rarely ever saw him eat sweets. “And you can just call me Fukuzawa.”
Chuuya stared at him for a moment and then nodded. Murase hoped that was a sign that Chuuya had decided to trust the man.
“And for you.”
Murase kind of wanted to cry at how quickly this little boy who must have only learned pain was picking up these casual acts of kindness. He could, also, almost physically feel the responsibility that came with teaching a child how to be a good person.
“Thank you. You’re such a good boy,” he couldn’t help but say.
Chuuya’s answering smile was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
Murase peeked inside the room one last time, making sure that Ranpo and Chuuya were really quietly sitting and watching TV and not trying to fight each other again. As glad as he was about Chuuya opening up and showing more of his personality, he really didn’t want to have to repair his ceiling or something if these two didn’t behave around each other.
“Okay, it’s still peaceful in there,” he informed Fukuzawa as he joined him on the couch. Ranpo had tried to insist that they should let him join their conversation instead of babysitting, but eventually Fukuzawa had convinced him to let them talk alone first.
“You have suspicions,” Fukuzawa stated, more than asked.
“I do,” Murase confirmed anyway. “The area where I found him was close to where that explosion happened three weeks ago. There have been rumors that there was a military base around there and one of their experiments went wrong, causing it. Chuuya—” He paused. It pained him to even think about this part. “Apart from obviously being malnourished, he also had these marks on his body. Needle marks and marks from tubes, some fading bruises in peculiar places. And of course there is the part where no matter how hard me and a few trusted colleagues search to find any clue about his identity, there’s nothing. It’s almost— it’s almost like he doesn’t exist.”
If there was any organization capable of successfully hiding someone’s identity like that, it would have been the military.
“Do you want to know who he is?” Fukuzawa asked.
“Well, Chuuya will probably want to know when he’s older. I should be prepared for that. But most of all I want to know who I need to hide him from and how to protect him.”
Fukuzawa nodded, not questioning his obvious admission that he was planning to keep Chuuya after all. “The Agency can take the case.”
“Are you sure? This could end up being really dangerous, if you get involved—”
“Mura,” his friend interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder. “The purpose of the Armed Detective Agency is to help people in need. We won’t stand by while a child’s life could be in danger.”
“Thank you, Yukichi. I know I just met the kid but I can’t let anything happen to him.”
“I know the feeling.” Fukuzawa turned towards the corridor that led to Murase’s room with a soft smile. “Ranpo has most likely already gathered enough clues to get the investigation started.”
“Your kid is crazy smart.”
“He’s not my…”
“Right, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Murase laughed. He wasn’t going to force him to admit how he felt about Ranpo, but he knew the truth. It was obvious in everything about his demeanor when he was around him. “Should I go check on them again? It’s a bit too quiet.”
Fukuzawa shook his head, a smile on his face. “Let them be. They will need to learn how to be around each other sooner or later.
Murase stayed rooted on the couch, discussing with Fukuzawa more details of the few things that had figured out about Chuuya, no matter how much his entire body was itching to get up and go check how Chuuya was doing. He really hoped he wouldn’t find him on the ceiling again when he went in the room.
Forty minutes later, when Fukuzawa finally let him go check on the boys, Murase found both of them on the ceiling.
“What’s going on here?” he sighed. Chuuya’s little hand was half wrapped around Ranpo’s wrist, and the two of them were pressed onto the ceiling next to each other, almost like they were lying on it.
“This feels weird,” Ranpo said instead of explaining anything. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“I would really like it if the two of you came down to the floor.”
“You’re no fun, old man.”
“Well, it must be making Chuuya tired to use his ability so much,” Murase gave it another go.
“It’s not. This feels nice,” the boy immediately shot back. It seemed like Murase would have to come to terms with the fact that he had a child in his house who he would routinely find at the ceiling.
When Fukuzawa joined him in the room, Murase turned to him with another sigh. “I'm not so sure introducing them was a good idea.”
Fukuzawa hid a smile behind his hand as he gazed at the boys for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Ranpo, do you remember what we talked about this morning?”
“Ugh, okaaay.”
Murase didn’t have the context to understand what these two meant, but Ranpo quickly got Chuuya to lower both of them to the ground, so he was grateful for it anyway.
“Did you two have a nice talk?” Fukuzawa asked, looking at Ranpo expectedly.
Before Ranpo could reply, Chuuya rushed ahead and gripped the end of Murase’s shirt, looking up to him excitedly. “Mura!” He practically yelled the nickname he had picked up from Tanaka. “I want to be a detective too!”
“No, this isn't what I said—” Ranpo started.
Chuuya didn’t let go of his shirt but his head immediately turned to look at the older boy. “But you said you're a detective and you're so cool so I want to be a detective so I can be cool too.”
“You're getting it wrong little Chuuya. I'm cool because I'm me, not because I'm a detective. And you're way too young to—”
“I'm not! I'm gonna be a detective!” He turned back to Murase, hopeful. “Mura, can I be a detective?”
What could he possibly reply to that? If this was the path Chuuya wanted to walk on, he wasn’t going to stop him, but he was way too young to decide that. He needed to go to school, to make friends, to be a kid first. Murase would much prefer for him to have a normal life away from any kind of danger, but even if Chuuya chose that for himself one day, it certainly wasn’t going to be at this age.
“When you get older we can talk about it again.”
“How much older?” Chuuya questioned quickly. “As old as Ranpo?”
Ranpo raised an eyebrow at the emphasis on the word old. “Okay, I’m not that old. Watch it, kid.”
Fourteen still didn’t seem old enough to Murase for this kind of job, but he couldn’t express that with the fourteen year old present, so he settled for a more diplomatic answer. “How about we talk about this in a few years? You may change your mind as you get older and learn new stuff.”
“I’m not changing my mind, I’m gonna become a detective,” Chuuya finally let go of his shirt to announce to the room.
“Alright, alright, we’ll come back to this in a few years.”
Chuuya’s friendship with Ranpo grew over the months, despite the older boy’s constant need to remind everyone that he only agreed to babysit him for the greater good; whatever that meant. The Armed Detective Agency —that still only consisted of Fukuzawa and Ranpo— kept working on Chuuya’s case along with the other, simpler cases they picked up as they built their reputations. Fukuzawa insisted on being extra careful during every step of this investigation, as the matter proved to be even more complicated than Murase could have ever imagined.
It had been about four months since Chuuya had started living with him, two since he had gained the title of ‘dad’, when Murase received an unexpected visit from Fukuzawa early in the morning, just as he was getting back home from dropping off Chuuya at school.
After the initial greetings, his friend hesitated a moment before admitting, “I picked up another kid.”
Murase snorted. “Maybe you should turn that detective agency of yours into an orphanage.”
“Well, I couldn’t help it. I was only planning to take the girl away to a safe place but Ranpo recruited her into the agency. I trust his judgment so I agreed.”
“Wait, weren’t you meeting with Doctor Mori yesterday? You said he could have a lead about Chuuya.” Murase had been skeptical ever since he learned about Fukuzawa’s alliance with the Port Mafia doctor, but he hadn’t thought it was his place to comment on it.
“I ended my alliance with him. Our ideals don’t align after all.”
This news would have made him rejoice under any other circumstances, but considering the matter at hand, Murase rushed to ask, apprehensively, “Does this have something to do with Chuuya or with the girl you took in?”
“Both,” Fukuzawa replied, a grave look on his face. “Doctor Mori… I knew he had built a career in the underground world and I thought I understood what that implied, but… he has been involved in far more sinister things than I could have ever guessed, and I can’t tolerate that. People do desperate things to get the upper hand at war, but there should be a line. And Doctor Mori has crossed it, certainly more than once.”
Murase’s chest tightened. He had been waiting for an answer for how Chuuya had ended up in that facility, but with every new clue Fukuzawa presented him, he disliked what he learned more and more.
The truth about Mori Ogai’s involvement in Chuuya’s abduction wasn’t any different.
“You’re saying, Chuuya’s father met Doctor Mori while they both served in the military, and what? Doctor Mori convinced him to sell his son?”
“From what I could gather, Chuuya’s father had been involved in some illegal activities that he was going to get heavily punished on if he was ever discovered. Doctor Mori found out about it and blackmailed him.”
“So instead of accepting punishment, he gave away his five year old son to be experimented on?”
Fukuzawa nodded. “It’s unclear if his wife knew about the whole truth, but she was at least aware that Chuuya was being recruited into the military and that he would have to lose his identity as their son.”
Well, regardless if either of them were aware of the extent of the torture and experimentations Chuuya would have to go through in the hands of that facility, one thing was for sure. Neither of them deserved the right to call themselves Chuuya's parents.
No one knew what had really gone down in that place and how much trauma Chuuya had to go through since the young boy was still suppressing his memories of those two years, but Murase could not imagine a single scenario where he would willingly let his son be taken away from him.
His blood was boiling with rage and his palms stang as he tightened his fists, uncaring of the damage his nails were causing.
It had been a thought in his mind, that if Chuuya's family was alive he would have to give their son back to them so he could grow up with his biological parents. Though he had quietly dreaded the possibility, since it meant he would have to say goodbye to him, he would have done it if it had been the best option for Chuuya.
Reality was worse than his imagination. It would have been far easier to explain to a kid that their family had passed away during the war and a bad man had taken him away, than having to sit him down one day and let him know the people who gave life to him also decided that in order to save their careers they would give their only kid away to be a guinea pig.
“Did the same thing happen to this girl?” How many children had suffered in this war?
“No, she was a different case, but— it wasn’t good.” Fukuzawa didn’t have to elaborate for Murase to understand. “Doctor Mori isn’t happy that I got her under my protection, but I am confident that at least for the time being he is not going to attempt to take her back.”
“What about Chuuya? Does he know about him?” Murase was a mere police officer, but for Chuuya, for his kid, he was ready to fight the entire Port Mafia if he had to.
“He didn’t give any indication that he knew. But this is why I actually rushed here.”
Murase’s heart was about to beat out of his chest. “You think he is in danger?”
“Not now,” Fukuzawa tried to reassure him. “Ranpo and I had been investigating Chuuya’s case and it led us to Yosano Akiko, the girl. I only confronted him about her. Although we don’t believe that he knows about Chuuya’s status right now, that won’t be the case forever. If his plan succeeds and he takes over the Port Mafia, his influence and connections will significantly increase too. If he knows that Chuuya survived the explosion then it’s possible that perhaps one day he will try to find him.”
“So you think we should hide him?”
“That won’t work with Mori. Even if we take him to the other side of the world, if Mori sets his sights on him, he will find him.” Fukuzawa paused to put a reassuring hand on Murase’s knee when his face must have betrayed his distress. “But hiding him isn’t the only option. Of course it’s best to keep his identity hidden, but I think the best course of action right now is to help Chuuya train his ability so he has the means to defend himself if he ever needs to, and, most of all, it’s vital for me to built a Detective Agency strong enough to protect him, when the time comes.”
“You want him to be part of the Agency,” Murase said more than asked.
“One day, yes, I think that would be the best option for him. I’m not going to rush him on this, I know he is still very young. He won’t even have to actually work for us if he doesn’t want to, but you know how my ability works. I’d like for him to become an official member of the Agency once he is able to make that decision for himself so I can help him have full control of his ability, though of course, I will offer my full protection to him regardless.”
Murase didn’t have to think too hard about it. Even though the entire situation was terrifying him, there probably wasn’t anyone in the world he trusted more than Fukuzawa. If he thought that that was their best course of action, he was going to listen to him.
“I’ll trust you on this, Yukichi. Chuuya can decide himself when he’s old enough if he wants to work for you or not, but I’ll encourage him to become a member of the Agency.” He put his hand on top of Fukuzawa’s hand that was still on his knee and squeezed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for this.”
“Nonsense, Mura,” Fukuzawa rushed to say. “Protecting people is my responsibility, but even if it wasn’t, I would still do it for you and Chuuya, don’t doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
For some reason, even if so many people in his life had screwed him over, he had no doubt that Fukuzawa would never be one of them.
“So, when are we meeting the girl?”
“Well, she’s still… I don’t know if she is ready to meet new people right now but perhaps meeting another kid will help her, like it did for Chuuya. Let’s give it a few days and you can bring him over.”
“Perfect, Chuuya will be excited.”
Thirteen year old Yosano was quiet and skittish. Murase knew not to take offense when she didn’t greet him back the first time they met or hesitated to reply to him whenever he tried to make conversation with her. He was trying his best to give her as much space and time as she needed to get comfortable, knowing that at her age it would be harder for her to bounce back compared to someone Chuuya’s age.
Despite her obvious hesitation to open up to the adults, she seemed to feel comfortable enough around Ranpo and was also slowly warming up to Chuuya, even if she was a bit overwhelmed by the, admittedly, alarming amount of energy the two boys got around each other.
Chuuya, who unfortunately understood far more about Yosano’s situation than Murase would ever want him to, seemed to be on a mission to get her to play with them.
“We brought taiyaki from dad’s job!” Chuuya announced loudly as they entered the Armed Detective Agency’s office. From dad’s job translated to from the vendor by the police station that Chuuya had been obsessed with recently. The boy really had a sweet tooth.
Ranpo rushed to the door to grab the bag out of Chuuya’s hands but Chuuya stopped him with a glowing red hand on his chest.
“Where’s Akiko? I want to give some to her first.”
“Hey, I’m the oldest here! What happened to respect?” Ranpo begrudgingly followed behind Chuuya towards Yosano’s direction. Murase and Fukuzawa watched the three of them try to divide the sweets fairly with a smile.
“So, did you decide?” Fukuzawa turned to ask him after a moment.
“Huh?”
“About becoming a detective,” his friend clarified.
“Ah, that,” Murase hesitated. “I don’t know if it’s possible for me right now, Yukichi. I have to put in extra work if I want that promotion, and if I get it, there’s Chuuya. If I work irregular hours, who is going to take care of him?”
“Do you even have to ask that?” Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow. “There’s an available two-bedroom apartment near ours. I know you’ve been looking for one. Move in there and I’ll be just a few doors away.”
“Yukichi, I— I can’t ask you that.”
Fukuzawa only smiled at him. “You didn’t ask.”
Murase opened his mouth, ready to argue further that his friend was already doing too much for them, when Chuuya’s shrieks interrupted them.
“Put me down! I’m not a baby!”
They turned to see Yosano holding Chuuya from under his armpits and spinning him around. The girl was laughing delightedly the more Chuuya complained while Ranpo was ignoring them in favor of eating his dessert. No one brought up the fact that Chuuya could easily escape her grasp if he really wanted to, but inside his chest, Murase felt his heart get bigger in order to fit all the love he felt for that boy.
“Daaaaad!” Chuuya yelled from across the room. Yosano's laughter intensified. “Tell her I’m not a baby!”
“You’re just proving her point now, little Chuuya,” Ranpo said between bites of his taiyaki.
“Daaad!” Chuuya yelled again, somehow louder.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Murase started making his way towards the kids, happily accepting an armful of Chuuya when he got close enough for him to jump from Yosano’s arms to his. Chuuya wasn’t normally a big fan of being carried around, but at that moment, he leaned in Murase’s touch and buried his face on his neck.
“You okay, buddy?” Murase asked quietly, wanting to make sure he wasn’t really upset.
“Yeah,” Chuuya muttered. “I think Ranpo ate all my taiyaki, though.”
Murase couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped him. “I’ll get you more tomorrow.”
Whatever challenges and storms were ahead of them, Murase was going to ensure that Chuuya was safe and happy.