Archive of Our Own

Edogawa Rampo spins in his chair, a chocolate bar in his hand and Elise at his feet, drawing another terrifying scene in crayon. Ōgai Mori, head of the Port Mafia—courtesy of the assassination of the former mafia boss at his hand—yaks on about something boring again. Something about business. Armed Detective Agency. The city’s new celebrity; The Weretiger. The Guild. 

The Guild is a new problem. Rampo had heard of them, of course, but he didn’t see much reason for the American organization to have much use for nuking Japan. It wouldn’t benefit them at all considering the man they’re hunting is The Weretiger himself, who would be incredibly annoying if his beloved city of Yokohama was burnt to toast. 

Rampo looks down at Elise’s drawing. A childlike diagram of Yokohama burning down, The Weretiger at the center in clear distress. With an overdramatized sigh, Rampo interjects Mori’s speech. “This is getting boring. I think I get the idea, boss.”

Mori broke a smile. “Naturally,” he said. “But I don’t know if you really see how much value this Weretiger has for the mafia-“

“We have enough money to buy me like…I dunno, five mansions or something.”

“-if we could get him into our organization,” Mori continued, “imagine the power we would hold over other organizations! And if his worth plummeted, we could also just turn him into the Guild and earn some extra pocket money.” 

Rampo had mixed opinions on the man in front of him. His hair was pulled into his usual ponytail, one stray hair poking out onto his face. His face was clean shaven, his clothing ironed and clean, despite how minimalist it was. He was almost the spitting image of a morally gray wealthy man. Maybe if he changed the hairstyle it would be more accurate, Rampo thought. 

“True.” Rampo crossed his legs, tossing a square of chocolate into his mouth. “Seems like a hassle though,” he said, his words muffled by the incoherent chocolate chewing. “Yeah, he’s powerful, but like, think about how annoying detaining him would be. We already tried that!” Rampo swallowed and wasted no time filling his mouth with more.

“It may not be as hard as you think, Rampo,” Mori smiled. Rampo knew that smile. He was plotting something, or something had been plotted for him. Usually the former. Rampo knew there was something about a meeting between the Armed Detective Agency, Guild, and Port Mafia, but he wasn’t all paying attention during that announcement and planning meeting he had before with fellow executives. Something something Weretiger something something money was all he heard.

“Yeah, yeah, good luck,” Rampo shrugged. “with…whatever.”

Mori sighed. “Rampo, you’re one of my favorite employees, but for the love of god, pay attention during meetings,” he grumbled.

“Moo~” Rampo smiled.

…

Much to his displeasure, Rampo had been tasked with meeting the Guild members along with some of his fellow important pawns in the mafia. They were supposed to be discussing The Weretiger, or making some sort of alliance. Mori and Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, being the imposing girl-dads they were, decided on bringing some of their members to see how well they interact. An experiment, dare say.

Rampo had little interest in what was going on, but he noticed a tall man he’d seen before. Edgar Allan Poe—someone he’d dueled against in a battle of wits six years ago. He cracked a smile at the memory of finally finding somebody who could find cracks in his intelligence, and snake around how his brain worked. Likewise for Poe, Rampo had stumped him. It was satisfying, and since then Rampo had asked Poe to make a story for him. Something not even the greatest detective in the world could figure out. 

He thought, maybe that day would really come. 

Poe looked different. Older. He was twenty-eight now, wasn’t he? His hair was shorter, yet still covered his eyes in that signature look that made you question how he could see. He seemed more fashionable now, but still kept that raccoon safely on his shoulder, tucking into the crook of his neck. It was kind of adorable.

He was talking to a younger woman with red braids trailing down her back, and a tattered yet fashionable dress. She had a flower in her hair, and a sour expression on her face. Poe seemed rather frightened by this young woman, though Rampo assumed he was the type of person to be frightened of everyone he met. Maybe even the type who had no knowledge whatsoever on how the female brain worked—which would be an odd trait for an author to have. No doubt there were several who were like that.

Rampo stepped up to the pair, and quickly silenced them with his presence. 

“Hey.”

“Edogawa Rampo,” Poe muttered, turning his head to him. He cracked a crooked smile. “Nice- nice to meet you again.” He still had a bit of a nervous stutter, Rampo noticed.

“You know this guy?” The red-haired woman asked, looking at Poe quizzically. Poe nodded. 

“We’ve had a battle of wits before.”

“You said you’d write me a mystery novel that could stump me.”

“I’ve been working on it for the past six years, Rampo,” Poe seemed nearly giddy with excitement. “I’ve never been so glad to see a rival in my life!”

Rampo laughed. “Really! I guess this has been in the back of my mind.”

Poe smiled softly, his genuine joy brought a softened expression to even the red-haired woman. “That’s wonderful. Say, Rampo,” he mused, “perhaps to kill time now, would you solve my mystery?”

“Duh,” Rampo put his hands on his hips. The red-haired woman sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess,” she grumbled, looking towards the mafia members talking amongst themselves rather reluctantly. A few glanced in Poe and Rampo’s direction, a bit curious as to the pair’s history. 

After a bit of rummaging through his pockets, Poe pulled out a leatherbound book and handed it to Rampo with a cynical grin. “You keep this in your pockets?” Rampo asked, taking the book. “That’s hopeful thinking.”

“Not-not all the time, no,” Poe replied defensively. “I just had a feeling I might run into you here, so I brought it just in case.”

“That’s some good detective work,” Rampo winked, earning a crooked, flustered smile from Poe. Rampo opened the book, and with a flash of text and yellow light, he was gone, and the book had dropped to the ground. Poe picked it up and dusted it off, decided to keep it under his arm for the rest of this meet-and-greet. 

He didn’t think he could be any more excited. 

・☆・

Rampo looked around his surroundings. A hotel of sorts, it seemed. Before he could turn around fully, he heard screams down the hall spouting about some sort of murder. Naturally, the man had come up with a classic murder mystery.

The scene of the crime wasn’t as gruesome as Rampo assumed it would be. He pushed past a few people in various styles of clothing, and then looked at the body. An older man, his suit disheveled. His hair made it look like he had just crawled out of bed. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” A young woman in a quite fancy dress shouted. “Don’t go look at a corpse! Are you mad?!”

“No, I’m a detective,” Rampo replied, already annoyed with these guests. They were so stupid, he thought, that they didn’t even think to turn on each other. He knew already that he had a gift—a supernatural ability Mori had informed him about 8 years ago—so of course everybody else was an idiot. It puzzled him.

Rampo stood up after observing the room, the corpse, and the guests briefly. “A locked room murder,” he muttered with a smile, “good one, Edgar.” He looked at the guests of the hotel, and deduced confidently, “The murderer in this case is me, Edogawa Rampo!”

The guests collectively gasped, and Rampo’s surroundings changed from the hotel room to the pavement, a singular step ahead of him.

・☆・

Poe walked straight into Rampo. Startled, he fixed his hair and looked down at the man. “Al-already?! I thought that one was sure to stump you!”

“Are you kidding? The evidence was right there!” Rampo huffed, his hands on his hips. Poe gulped, intimidated. Rampo had a capacity for annoyance larger than himself, Poe found. “The window was locked, so nobody could have escaped. There wasn’t a key in the man’s suit, and there wasn’t a string attached to it. The guests were out of breath, too, like they ran there. Obviously, I had just gotten there, and clearly nobody there would’ve had the guts to kill somebody in a snow globe.”

“You even knew about the set?!” Poe exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Rampo nodded proudly. “A hotel in a snow globe with guests from very different backgrounds.” He paused. “Clearly, from the weird way they were dressed.”

Poe sighed, exasperated. “Yet again, I’ve failed, Rampo.”

Rampo laughed in reply. “Don’t give up yet, Ed!” He raised his hand onto Poe’s shoulder, giving him a friendly, yet rough, pat. “Try harder next time. I’ll be waiting.” He winked.

Poe’s heart seemed to jump out of his chest. Next time. He still had hope to stump the detective! The problem was, though, he had to come up with the right scenario. How on earth would he do that..?

“Yes!” Poe smiled. “I assure you, I’ll come up with something that will make you question even your own wits, Rampo!” The shorter man laughed again.

“Get to it. My challenge for you is tracking me down after that, okay?” Rampo grinned.

“Ah…I’m sure I can ask around,” Poe deflated a bit. Another failure of obtaining the detective’s cell number. 

What a day.

…

The bell above the door chimed as Poe entered. The cafe smelled of coffee and pastries, the atmosphere immediately calmed his nerves. Poe exhaled and sat down in a booth, letting the place relieve him of his worries.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” An old man behind the counter stood, cleaning a glass. He looked like the friendly sort; his waistcoat and shirt neat, his gray hair slicked back. Poe shook his head, smiling back at the man. 

“No, thank you.” 

Poe opened his bag to extract his paper and pen. He wanted a change of scenery today; something that might give him new–and perhaps better–ideas for a mystery for Rampo. He jotted down a few ideas, yet realized how…classic they were. 

Town murder mystery

Solve the cause of a terrorist attack (?)

Locate a man with no immediate clues apart from a wanted poster

None of those were suited for somebody like Rampo! Poe was at a complete loss. He raked a hand through his hair, thinking as hard as he could. Writing takes time, especially coming up with the idea itself. Still, Poe wanted an excuse to see the detective as soon as possible. 

“Hey, Tenchō!” Poe glanced up as a man stepped down the stairs, a coat draped over his arm and a bowler hat with a chain on his orange-haired head. He held up a hand in greeting to the old man behind the counter, who smiled warmly in return. 

As if on autopilot, the old man–Tenchō, as the shorter man called him–began to prepare his station to make a drink. “The usual?”

The man with the hat smiled and nodded. “You know me too well,” he clicked his tongue in satisfaction. The man had a wealthy looking appearance, his shoes shining, pants ironed and fitting as if they’d been tailored, and his red collared shirt was nearly perfect. A ponytail hung over his shoulder, tied with a red ribbon. 

Poe thought he’d be a rather good character if he was in a novel.

The man’s brown eyes flicked to Poe’s table. He cocked his head to the side with a smirk, realizing he was being carefully observed. Poe felt a bit of a fluster as he walked forward. “I haven’t seen you here before, what’s your name, sir?” He asked, his tone friendly.

“Ah..eh-” Poe cleared his throat “-Poe. Edgar Allan Poe.” He noticed the man’s gaze went from his face to the face of his companion, Karl. His raccoon. “And- and he’s Karl,” Poe added with an awkward smile. “He’s harmless.”

“You two make quite a pair,” the man chuckled and sat down across from Poe in the green-padded booth. “I’m Nakahara Chūya, Armed Detective Agency employee. You’re from the Guild, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, I am,” Poe nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Nakahara had figured that out. After all, Poe did struggle a bit with his Japanese pronunciation, and was clearly a foreigner. “I- er…well, that makes this a bit awkward…” he laughed sheepishly. The Guild’s current intention was to buy out the Agency, which Fitzgerald had already discussed with Fukuzawa Yuichi, the Agency’s boss. Naturally he’d been turned down. A man as honorable as Fukuzawa would never offer up his business for a few stacks of cash. To take things to the next measure were extreme, Poe knew, but if they were to find that thing…

Nakahara interrupted Poe’s thoughts with another laugh. “Not at all. Look, it’s a pretty lofty goal to get the Agency from my boss, and I know your rich ass boss ain’t gonna give up too quickly. I don’t really know what you’re after apart from our license from the Division.” He rested his elbow on the table, propping up his head in his palm. “Whatever happens, we’ll make sure you guys don’t do anything too crazy.”

“Right…” Poe swallowed. “W-well, er…”

“Wat’cha writin’?” 

“Oh!” Poe looked back down to his list of ideas. “I’m coming up with a mystery even the greatest detective can’t solve. Something to stump even the most intelligent mind,” he explained, “although I’m struggling to come up with that idea. I have to write it myself, and to beat Ra- the detective's skill–” Nakahara raised an eyebrow “--I have to think in the way they would exactly.” Poe sighed, taking his head in his hands. “Yet I can’t fathom what weaknesses he has!”

“I think I know who you’re talking about,” Nakahara swiveled the paper over to his side of the booth, taking out a pen from his pocket and beginning to write another proposition. (Unlike what was already written, this one was in Japanese characters.) “Edogawa Rampo of the Port Mafia? Easy. The guy’s a complete sloth.”

“How’d you-?!” Poe’s eyes widened, Karl looking intently over his shoulder. Nakahara passed the paper back to him with a smug look.

Get a cat out of a tree in a deserted town

How hadn’t Poe thought of that..? A simple task, a perfect annoyance for the world’s best detective.

“If you can’t stump ‘im,” Nakahara proposed, “make ‘im do something where he actually has to get up out of his desk chair, yeah?”

“Genius,” Poe smiled, looking up at the man across from him. “When do you think I’ll have an opportunity to see him?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself yet,” Chūya smirked. “You still have to write it.”
“Right…you know what my ability is?!”

“Kunikida can find information on anybody, raccoon guy,” Nakahara said as Tenchō placed a drink in front of him. Nakahara smiled. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Plus, y’all aren’t that great at hiding yourselves. You, though, were a bit harder to track down, but we found some good stuff.”

Poe shivered. “I..see…”

…

It felt like an eternity without him, until Poe stepped into that sweet smelling sweet shop. The soft, baby pink walls were decorated with trinkets on shelves, posters advertising the shop’s pastries and such, with bold characters in Japanese, stars and hearts all over. This was one of the stores Lucy requested Poe to look around in. She wanted him to look at sweet shops all over Yokohama for her to find the perfect one. Poe checked off the shop’s name on his list, which he’d figured would be easier on his notes app rather than a physical piece of paper. 

Poe stood in a corner, phone–and several pretty paper bags over his arm–in hand, looking carefully at the menu. Today, he ditched his usual suit coat for something easier to walk in. Casual. A leather jacket, old shirt, and jeans. The menu being in Japanese, he mentally stumbled over a few words, occasionally forgetting them in both languages. What’s more, some of them were a Japanese interpretation of a French delight! He’d taken French in high school, but now that was ages ago.

There was a man on the shorter side over at the register. He looked familiar. Jet black hair, messed up yet still fitting to the character, a brown newsboy hat on his head, a black waistcoat and grey trousers paired with sleek brown shoes. Poe knew that getup anywhere. 

At last, Edogawa Rampo!

Poe made a silent promise to himself that as soon as Rampo was finished ordering, he would go strike up a conversation and present his new, revised, challenge. To his surprise, Rampo walked up to him first-!

“Hey, shopping for a girlfriend or something?” Rampo smiled.

“Ah- no, for my friend…she requested I take a look around every sweet shop I can find in Yokohama…I seem to be on my 5th.” Poe looked down at his list. There were tens more to go. He sighed and looked back at Rampo. “Anyhow, I finished a new novel for you.”

“Already?” Rampo raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He laughed. “Must be something really annoying, then.”

“You could say that,” Poe smiled back, eager. He moved to grab the book out of his jacket pocket, dropping his phone in the process, then trying to pick it up with the other hand as the bags began slipping off his arm. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He cleared his throat and managed to safely give the book to Rampo with a crooked smile. 

Rampo looked as if he was about to burst out laughing, which only worsened Poe’s embarrassment. His genuine laugh, though, was almost…endearing. Poe ignored the thought. “Thanks,” Rampo snickered. “Before I get to this, you want some help with the menu?” Good Grief.

・☆・

Rampo ended up in the middle of a street, yet there were no cars. The houses around him all had their lights off inside, doors open to nothing. The sun was bright and hot. The only sounds were the rustling of the trees and Rampo’s own breathing. Nobody was walking on the sidewalk, and the road seemed to stretch on forever. 

“What on Earth…?” Rampo looked around. Nailed into one of the houses’ walls around him was a poster, softly buffeted by the wind. On closer inspection, it had a picture of a cat on it. A calico cat. It seemed oddly familiar…

Rampo grumbled in annoyance under his breath, reading the poster.

LOST CAT

His name is Mii

Return him to this home

At least that made the objective pretty clear. The thing was…this was such a boring challenge for a detective like Rampo! He wasn’t meant for finding lost cats! That sounded more like something that kid, Akutagawa, would do if asked nicely enough…specifically by his former..er- mentor..? Maybe that wasn’t the right word.

“Fine, Edgar,” Rampo huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll play your stupid game.” Maybe he could just find somebody somewhere to do it for him…

・☆・

“Edgaaaaar,” Lucy whined. Poe held his phone to his ear while balancing way too many sweet bags on his arms, a book tucked under his arm as well. “When will you be back? I’m so hungry!”

“We-well, Lucy, you could always find something to tide you over,” Poe muttered. “I…er…ran into a…a friend, yes. And- well- I..er…It-It’s important.”

“For a writer you sure have a way with words.” Lucy sighed. Poe could practically hear the eyeroll from the other side of the call. “What, did’ya meet a lady friend or something? Impressive, actually. Didn’t really think you could get one at your old age-”

“I’m only twenty-eight!”

“-but anyway, focus on my stuff, okaaay? See ya soon.”

Poe had been hung up on. 

He struggled to get his phone into a hand capable of opening the notes app and checking off another store. Having visited 25 by now, trying to make most of it on foot as to save time climbing in and out of his car, he figured he may as well head back to the boat; the Guild’s temporary Japanese HQ, basically. Melville was a great help, but Poe couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for his ability, the Moby Dick, who was industrialized for the benefit of the Guild. He thought a whale would be much better off in the water rather than the sky, and in Poe’s personal opinion, heights are terrifying.

Despite what a typical onlooker would assume, the person on Poe’s mind as he dumped sweet bags into the back of his car was not a woman, but the detective of the Port Mafia. Edogawa had still not returned from the book, and Poe was beginning to worry if he’d made the simple challenge…well, too simple. A rather unpleasant thought, Poe wondered if he’d picked too lazy of a person to set his sights on. In fact, thinking about the unfortunate situation almost made him run a red light, and of course he instantly felt bad about that. Even as he got back to Lucy, Edogawa was still in the very front of his mind. Visions of him struggling to climb up a tree and grab the cat down haunted him, especially if the cat happened to claw his wonderful face!

Lucy was there to snap him out of it, thank goodness. “You had a good day out, huh,” she muttered while sifting through bags. Poe let out a soft sigh, stretching his aching arms. “Who were ya with?” 

“I wasn’t with anyone!” Poe exclaimed in embarrassment. He swallowed a lump in his throat and found a soft velvet chair to sit down on, petting Karl to ease his mind. “You-you’re right about the fact that I can’t find a woman to spend my time with, but…” He trailed off. 

Lucy might have had the right idea. If someone was occupying his mind this much, there must be only one conclusion as to why-! 

Poe grumbled softly. Lucy looked up with a smirk. “Come oooon, you can tell me. I know you were with someone. It’s written all over your face–” she popped a chocolate in her mouth, now speaking between bites “--you know I love talking about this sort of thing. Oh! You went to that meeting with the mafia, didn’t you? About trying to team up or something–did you meet someone there?”

At this rate Lucy would end up to be a great detective as well. “Well…” Poe stumbled over a few words, none of them exiting as well as he would’ve liked. “In a way, y-yes,” he blurted. “Bu-but! He’s a rival…a rival, nothing more. I doubt he considers me a friend.”

“He?” Lucy looked up, intrigued. “This just got more interesting.”

Poe felt his face flush. “Gah…here, the thing is, he’s a master detective. The master detective, really. And- well- we’ve met before, six years ago for a battle of wits. Naturally he won, and ever since I’ve been working on novels to finally stump him, and-”

“Okay, I get it, so what happened?” Lucy interrupted his rambling.

Poe cleared his throat. “I fear I may have given him a task too boring, and now he won’t come out of the book.”

…

Lucy stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Ha- really?? Too boring?! You’re kidding! The world’s best detective, failing because the task was too boring?!” 

“He doesn’t like to concern himself with basic tasks!” Poe attested as Karl jumped off his shoulder, disinterested. “It-It’s very reasonable.”

“Okay, okay,” Lucy wiped her watering eyes, still holding back a cackle as her voice wavered. She took a chocolate puff out of a bag, giving it a curious look as she spoke. “But really, if he’s this big ol’ master guy, he’ll be fine.” She looked up, holding the pastry as if pointing at Poe with it, a smirk on her face, braces gleaming on her visible teeth. “You worrywart. Oh! Edgar, this stuff’s really good!” The pastry was now half inside her mouth.

“I’m glad.” Poe slumped back in his chair. He gazed over at Karl, who had found a nice rug to curl up on. He took the book out of his jacket’s pocket, looking over the cover. He hoped Rampo would jump out of it any moment now. 

Maybe Nakahara was a bit too smart…

・☆・

“Urk- damn you–!” Rampo struggled up a tree, reaching up for a calico cat, which had seemed much cuter on the poster. In this current mindset, this may have been the ugliest and most annoying cat he’d ever laid eyes upon. After wandering around aimlessly looking for someone to do the work for him, Rampo’s legs were extremely sore. What’s more, now he was being forced to climb up a tree for some stupid cat! 

Rampo promised himself he’d give Poe an earful once he was released from cat-stuck-in-a-damn-tree jail. He hoisted himself up onto a branch, quickly grabbing the cat, getting a scratch on his arm, and tumbling down into the grass. “Gah- you ass!” He held the cat out over his head. “There, I did it. Now what?”

The cat didn’t reply. No instruction. 

“I’ve gotta return you, don’t I?” Rampo heaved a heavy sigh. He took the cat into his arms, standing up and heading back the two street blocks to the poster house. At last, the cat was placed onto the front step, and Rampo was released.

・☆・

“-he, like, totally was pathetic, I swear.” It was the voice of the red-haired girl. Rampo found himself on a crimson rug, sitting on the floor next to Poe’s pet raccoon, Karl. In a velvet seat sat the man himself, the red-haired girl across from stretched out on a loveseat with various bags around her. Upon Rampo’s arrival, she looked down, unimpressed. “Oh, hey, Edgar, it’s your boyfr-”

“Rampo!” Poe shot up from his seat. “Gosh, I thought I might have really trapped you in there, I didn’t know what to do with myself!”

“You asshole,” Rampo huffed, crossing his arms. “I got scratched by tree branches and a cat! Also, I had to walk around a whole bunch to try and find someone to get the cat for me, and found literally nothing! That wasn’t a mystery, that was a chore!”

“Ah- yes, I’m sorry-”

“Come up with an actual mystery sometime!” Rampo chided. “Y’know what, to make up for it now, you should go out and get some snacks for me, yeah?”

Poe inwardly groaned. “I suppose that’s fair…”

“Edgar, you’re really gonna just get yelled at, huh,” the red-haired girl giggled. “You wuss. How about you two make it a date?”

“Sounds fine to me.” Rampo pet Karl absentmindly, bored out of his mind. Karl nuzzled into his arm, making Rampo look at him a bit fondly. “Actually…this guy could grow on me.” Poe smiled in response. 

Yet still a part of him felt a bit guilty. Was Rampo really that mad…? He’d have to work hard to make this right, wouldn’t he? But how would he ever come up with something for Rampo…furthermore, did he even want to? That fear was now instilled in him; what if Rampo gave up and couldn’t get out?

Naturally, he went back to the café to ask 

Nakahara for help.

…

Poe took a breath. He lingered by the wooden door, his hand ever so slightly raised in a motion to knock. “Alright, Karl,” he muttered. “I can do this, I just have to knock and make a bit of conversation and then-” The door flew open before he could finish, striking him right in the nose. “Oh- oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” a boy with white hair caught his arm and he stumbled backwards. “I didn’t know anybody was going to be coming today, I sincerely apologize!” The boy said as he let go of Poe’s arm and bowed apologetically.

“Ah..er..” Awkward. “It’s fine, really,” Poe faltered. He then recognized the boy. There was a black streak in his hair, one side of it hanging down, his bangs awkwardly cut. This was Nakajima Atsushi, the weretiger the Guild and Port Mafia were trying to get rid of. 

Nakajima stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck and averting his gaze to the floor. “R-right. Um-” he lifted his head to look at Poe “-who are you? Oh- I’m Nakajima Atsushi.”

“Edgar Allan Poe.” Poe replied. The two then stared at each other in an awkward silence for a few moments before speaking at the same time.

“Well, I should probably get to work now-”

“I was going to head inside, if you don't mind-”

Another pause. Nakajima hurried down the stairs, leaving Poe free to enter the office. He took another breath and opened the door wide enough to enter. The office smelled of coffee, sweets, and incense. It was furnished in a lovely way, and there were two screens that blocked the entryway to the actual office areas. Before him was something of a lobby, with a comfortable table space and chairs the same shade of green as the booths in the café below. He gently knocked on one of the screens, peeking into the office. Not many people appeared to be engaging in productive activities.

A man with long blonde hair looked up from his laptop. He muttered something to himself as he left his chair, pushing up his glasses and heading towards Poe. He gave him a smile that seemed rather forced but still kind. “I didn't hear about any visitors today. Do you need something?” The man asked, his arms crossed.

“I was looking for Nakahara, if you don't mind? There’s something I need to ask him about,” Poe appealed. 

“Nakahara..?” The blonde man raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“Edgar Allan Poe, sir,” Poe answered sheepishly. 

“From The Guild?” The blonde man seemed rather skeptical now. “What do you need from him?”

Poe honestly couldn't think of a reply worth this man’s time. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “Well…he helped me a few days ago to come up with a good mystery for a rival of mine, and now I’m worried said rival is angry at me because Nakahara’s idea was too good, so I need his advice to get me out of this,” he babbled. It was a silly story, now that he’d said it out loud.

“You’re worried your rival is mad at you?” 

The blonde man sighed, somewhat speaking under his breath. “I guess I can find him for you. Wait here.” He disappeared behind the screen. Poe pet Karl as he waited for a minute or so, hoping his visit wasn't in vain.

“Hey, Raccoon Guy,” Nakahara tipped his hat at Poe as he emerged from the screens. He wore a smirk, which Poe had come to accept would be his usual expression. “I heard you’re having boy trouble again?”

“Don’t put it like that,” Poe muttered. “But…yes, I am. It’s just- I’m afraid I’ve angered Rampo. Your idea was too much of an annoyance for him!” Nakahara reached out to let Karl sniff his gloved hand as Poe continued, keeping an eye on Karl as he spoke. “I do appreciate the idea, it worked wonderfully, and yet…”

“I’m flattered.” Nakahara’s smirk softened into a smile as Karl allowed him to pet him, leaning into his hand. “What did Edogawa say when he came out of the book?”

“Ah..well, if I recall, he said something along the lines of ‘Do better and don’t make me do a stupid task again.’” Nakahara let out a small chuckle at this.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” he said, looking at Poe while still petting Karl. “Hey, he said there’s gonna be a next time, right? So don’t sweat it. He’s probably like some other pain-in-the-ass I know, and just didn’t learn how to express emotions clearly like a normal person.” Poe took this into consideration. Edogawa was a mysterious man. He spoke in what seemed like riddles to Poe, but he couldn’t help but feel compelled to continue in his journey to satisfy him. There was something so alluring about having the bragging rights to say ‘I won in a battle of wits against Yokohama’s greatest detective.’ 

Maybe there was more to it than that. 

Poe cleared his throat and nodded, tearing away from his thoughts. “Thank you. However, when there is a next time, what on Earth do I offer him? I can’t give him a measly task again-”

“Personally, I’d do it just to spite ‘im,” Nakahara muttered.

“-and I’ve thought of nearly everything I could to stump him, but I can always see him finding a way around it. Locked room murders, missing persons, crimes with no witness and no evidence, but no, he’s just too good!” Poe groaned. 

Poe could tell there was something on Nakahara’s mind. He seemed–so far–like the type of person who’s casual about lots of things, but is smart enough to know what to say and when. Who can make jokes and worm his way out of awkward situations. Poe wished he had that power. 

“Why do ya wanna beat him so bad, anyway?”

Oh.

Poe had never thought about that. At least not in the current situation he was in. In the past, he’d longed for the pride and the validation from Edogawa that he’d done it. That he, too, could be considered a genius. But what now, now that he’d grown so fond of the detective? If he couldn’t get Edogawa out of a book, what would he do with himself? There would be no pride or praise. There would be loneliness, and the guilt of having trapped a mastermind. A friend, daresay. 

Nakahara smiled. “Don’t know?”

“Yes…” Poe looked away. “I wanted the pride of being called a genius back then. I…I wanted Edogawa to tell me I was on his level.”

“So it all traces back to that, hm?”

“To what?”
“To the fact you’re kinda desperate for Edogawa’s recognition.”

Poe fumbled a quick reply. He inwardly cursed Nakahara for being so good at social cues and understanding. “Perhaps.”

Nakahara laughed. “Be honest with yourself, man. Anyway, I’ve got work stuff to do. Talk later, ‘kay? Oh- I’ll have to get your cell.” Nakahara rummaged in his pockets for his phone. 

Desperate for Edogawa’s recognition. 

Huh.

From here on, the Guild has disbanded. Francis has been defeated

For Edogawa Rampo, Port Mafia Executive.

Dear Edogawa,

I hope this letter finds you well. As of late, I have been writing on my own after the Guild’s disbandment. I have yet to come up with an idea to stump you, and I apologize. However, I must admit being cooped up in my studio day after day and night after night has gotten quite lonely. If you can make the time, I’d be overjoyed if we could meet up somewhere, preferably soon. 

Best Regards, E. A. Poe

Rampo smiled. Edgar wrote in such a professional manner, it was almost funny. He didn’t even put his cell number in the letter, so he’d just have to write back. Of course it was like that. Rampo figured the guy rarely used his phone. 

He’s lonely, huh? Cute. Rampo wasn’t surprised Edgar wanted to meet up with him of all people after the Guild’s disbandment. Edgar always looked strangely excited when Rampo told him there would be a ‘next time’ they could meet, or where Rampo could dive into another one of Edgar’s books. 

“Hey, Mr. Detective,” Rampo looked up from the letter as Dazai strode into his office. “I just got a pretty neat text for ya.” He had a sneaky smile on his face. “I think it’s from your secret admirer,” he added.

“Secret admirer?” Rampo asked. “Why would someone text you about me?”

“So here’s the deal,” Dazai began, “Chūya texts me that he’s got someone with a message for ya at some random sweet shop. I ask who it is. He says it’s some American guy I probably don’t care about.”

“Edgar,” Rampo nodded. He paused, Dazai looking at him with a strange anticipation. “Wait, secret admirer?”

…

After Dazai had given him the address of the shop, Rampo–in a taxi–made his way there. Stepping inside, he noted the mass of sweets before looking around for any people. It was a small shop, but sweet smelling and uncongested. 

Acknowledging the people in the shop, there was a young woman behind the counter, helping an older woman set up a large chocolate display. There was a young couple showing their toddler around the shop, too. The kid was rather obnoxious, as they usually are. Looking at his shoes in the corner was the “some American guy” Rampo was looking for. 

“Hey, Edgar,” Rampo tapped his shoulder, startling him. “What’cha need? Come up with a novel already?” Edgar looked even more awkward than usual. Karl rested on his shoulders with an expression that suggested he was tired of Edgar’s shyness around Rampo. 

“I haven’t, no,” he admitted. “Honestly, Edogawa, your brain is on another level. I can’t think of anything to stump you, and yet if I did..” He took a breath. “Well, really, if you got stuck in one of my novels I could never forgive myself.” Edgar stared at Rampo awkwardly for a brief moment. He then sped up the pace of his words, looking away. “And I bought you some sweets already to apologize for the previous inconvenience of my most recent work.” He held out a bag, labeled with the shop’s name. Rampo almost laughed. 

“First of all, call me Rampo. You don’t need to be so formal!” He took the bag and began digging through it. “Second, I appreciate the apology, but you should really be better about sending times, dates, and locations in your ominous letters.” Edgar blushed with embarrassment. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said, sheepish. “Uh…it seems you got here with Chūya and Dazai’s help?” Rampo nodded through a mouthful of chocolate. Karl was now intrigued by the wrappers’ rustling and such. 

Rampo looked up at him. “Actually, you confuse me in a lotta’ ways, so ya probably shouldn’t worry too much about those novels.”

“Huh..?”

“I’m not great at analyzing what people are thinking, especially you, and since that first meeting after six years, I’ve been wondering…” Rampo hesitated for a moment, trying to study what he could see of Edgar’s expression. “...why do you keep trying to find me, anyway, if you can’t figure out a novel idea to stump me? Also, why did you feel bad about the stupid one?” 

Edgar blanked on a reply. He feared Rampo knowing the truth. He, himself, barely knew the truth. He’d been contemplating it for so long, but had continuously given up on it; why did he have such a fear of losing contact with Rampo? Why didn’t he want to cause him harm? Why did he feel bad for things his organization had done to his city and co-workers, knowing the outcome would benefit him. But now, being put on the spot, he needed whatever came to mind.

Maybe this feeling was what Lucy had teased him for. Maybe this beating in his chest, his oddly jumbled thoughts and sloppy speech were the symptoms of something he never considered–did he love Rampo? He certainly wanted a friend, but with everyone else he’d managed to become friends with, he hadn’t grown nearly as nervous. But love couldn’t be an option, it shouldn’t be an option! Some American immigrant whose organization tried to destroy Yokohama, and the city’s greatest detective? There was no way. And besides, Rampo already seemed fed up with the confusion of feelings themselves, and whatever answer Edgar could offer, neither of them would understand.

“What’s taking you so long?” Rampo snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. 

“Ah- sorry, sorry.” Why? Why did he feel this way? “I…I care about you…Rampo.” He hesitated. “That’s why…I suppose.” Rampo was uncomfortably silent. “I- I guess I want to be friends-”

“Are we not already friends?” Rampo interjected. “I don’t get you. Just be honest with me. I’ve been honest. You confuse me. You weird me out. But you’re still a pretty cool dude! You’re infuriating but I like you, okay?”

“Rampo…” Edgar gulped. “Ye-yeah, I’m just a bit awkward with trying to say things out loud. You know, feelings and all, but, yes, I admit you confuse me, too. And I like that about you.”

“Sweet,” Rampo smiled. “Hey, how about I give you my cell and we go out again sometime?”

For a detective, he really wasn’t that smart about this at all.