Prey and Predator [Ranpo x Reader] + Bonus ✓

6. Kept to oneself

Later that same day I returned home alone; it was something I was used to doing but I made it my assumption I'd have either male - or both - waiting for me outside the gate by the time I was dismissed from lessons, but neither was, which, honestly, had disappointed me.

'Their excuse for my person being targeted by corrupt police officers was odd. Way to go with keeping me safe,' I complained at the train station while I picked at small pebbles on the ground as a result of boredom generated by the tedious delay of the train. 'You're detectives, not bodyguards. I should have expected no less.' A particular stone that I was messing with caught my attention for the small emerald pigment it had on its surface. It reminded me of Ranpo's own eyes - I threw it out in front of me. 'Trash.'

I watched as the pebble rolled down and stopped just before the platform-end, its green flesh facing upward and still visible from where I was. The sun shone on it brightly and warmly, almost as if at any moment he'd be summoned and would appear before my eyes as if it'd be some sort of magic trick - let his ability only be of deduction, nothing else.

"Without your cooperation, he'll be arrested by the end of the week."

What am I supposed to do with this statement? What does it even mean? - A warning you said? Well, it sounds a lot more like blackmail if I'm honest. If you'd stopped talking in child or riddles then maybe we would be able to understand each other!

I frowned at the rock as people walked by.

It's happened before, it's bound to happen again. If the detectives can confirm that my brother is indeed innocent in a case where his involvement almost poses no doubt to questioning his guilt then it must mean someone may be trying to frame him.

Leaving the poet killer case aside, I did not share the story of the supposed necrophile with anyone - not mother nor father (though he must remember the case but not know about my awareness of it) - which then would only leave brother and I the only ones aware of its recent apprise. That made us the main suspects at re-enacting the crime of '92.

Perhaps I was overthinking the purpose of the offence; it was not necessarily common for young students to be targeted by older citizens due to their belief that "young girls are fragile and weak", but it was certainly not rare. Any man or woman alike could have single-handedly murdered those girls for whatever reason they had - it wasn't "peculiar enough" to have been influenced by a former detective's old journal.

As for his appearance having been messed up... There was a possibility he encountered the true culprit on his way to the bookstore or attempted to stop him from committing the offence... But he wasn't bloody, and the only piece of evidence indicating he was ever-present at the wrong place and the wrong time was an old clerk's attestation - possibly backed up with CCTV footage.

The one other possibility I could reason with for his bad appearance was his lack of concern for physical impressions or too little time and light to groom himself that early in the morning - but why had he left so early in the morning?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the train reach the platform, the hinges of the tracks creaking as the wheels forced the vehicle to halt; I made my way inside, picking up the small emerald pebble on my way in and letting this slide down inside the pocket of my school blazer - it was bad enough that it reminded me of someone whom I hadn't acquainted with so well, true, but I must admit both the pebble and his eyes were alluringly ethereal.

***

I was excused for the afternoon to complete any work I had received from school, look after dad and perhaps have a little time for myself until I was asked to work a night shift; though it was clear mum didn't want to have me working until late - due to the possibility that I may not get enough sleep for the next school day - we had no choice as Brother had not returned since he'd been taken to the police station for interrogation earlier the same day and we could not come into contact with him.

'As much as I love you, you better have some good excuse else you are so screwed!' I thought out loud as I reread the various messages I'd spammed his phone with - none were delivered. Your mysterious whereabouts are truly beginning to become suspicious, so it's getting hard to believe you're innocent.

"Without your cooperation, he'll be arrested by the end of the week."

I replayed the words in my head times and times again, trying to once again decipher their meaning. It almost sounded like I was the reason these were happening; I've figured that by sharing the story with someone they begin happening, I've figured out that much, Mr Diabetes. So I'm keeping quiet about this one: no one apart from me will know about this - that should deter it from happening.

Other than the thoughts in my head, the store remained quiet until it was time to close; I got up from my seat and headed down towards the door, the metallic jingle of the keys echoing as I locked the store's entrance.

Then a loud thump sounded in front of me.

I jumped back startled, and when I looked up to see what animal it must've been to have hit the door with such force I was met with my brother standing there, fear struck in his eyes as if he had been escaping from a pack of wolves.

Shaking in desperation, I unlocked the door, and without a word, he rushed for the counter and reached for my phone which was placed on the stool I had abandoned; he quickly dialled a number and brought the phone to his ear. '[Y/N], stay away from - Yes, hello, good evening, officer -'

The police?

'There's - I think it was attempted murder - I don't know, I was on my way home. Yes, breathing, just barely. They were buried alive, to their waist -'

They were buried alive, to their waist.

'[Y/N], you - come back inside -' he ordered as I set foot outside, but did not succeed in leaving as he pulled me back by the wrist and pushed me down the aisle. 'Go upstairs to bed or something, but do not come outside. This isn't one of dad's made-up stories. This is real life.'

I searched his body from the distance; he still wore the clothes he had left with, but his jacket was missing. The white sleeves of his shirt were tainted with brown with soil and swatches of fresh blood. He provided the receiver with the location of the store and stepped outside, loudly slamming the door to assert his instruction for me to stay inside.

But I didn't tell anyone...

'[Y/N], what's the matter?' mother's voice was heard from the counter as she opened the door behind it - one which led to the narrow hallway of our house. She was dressed in a thin silky nightgown, and her messy hair proved she had just got up to check on the impact which the door had made on the building without caring about brushing it. '[Y/N]!' She rushed up to me and brought me towards her chest while wrapping her arms around my figure. 'Why are you crying? Was it a customer? Did they harass you? [Y/N], dear, mama's here. Please calm down.'

The sound of the sirens wailing through streets far off was muffled by mum's hands reaching up to cover my ears from the noise and the abundant company of my tears which I had only been aware of being there after she had highlighted their presence. Through the vibration of her chest, I could tell she was speaking - to me, to someone, it didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was that past crimes I was being told about or made aware of were happening around me. This time it wasn't my brother, he did not know about the tea plantation case.

The problem was me.

'[Y/N]! Look at me, dear, look up!' - was the last thing I heard when mum released her hands from my ears and tapped her cold hands against my cheek.

I must've passed out.