The Silent Script - Bungo Stray Dogs

Weapon

So Ranpo's been waiting for someone. 

Which means...

Dazai gazed at the newcomer with curiosity. The only hint of color on him was his light blonde hair, in complete contrast with the rest of his dark attire. Even his face was shadowed behind big, black sunglasses. The overcoat he wore over a shirt and pants did little to conceal his lanky frame.

He looked impeccably put together, like he'd descended onto earth to define the word 'perfect.' Dazai was certain he smelled like rosewood. Even the leather on his Chelsea boots gleamed in the dim lighting of the tavern.

It was no surprise he was Ranpo's associate. Perhaps he even worked for the rebel leader, but Dazai was more interested in another question that had surfaced as soon as the other man had approached Ranpo.

Ranpo was here to meet someone alright, but that someone was most certainly not Dazai. He felt relieved he hadn't made the mistake of revealing his presence to Ranpo.

But why was Dazai here?

Why had he led himself to this tavern at exactly the same date and time as Ranpo's meeting? Dazai was certain now that the revelation of the blue-eyed man was not the sole reason for this adventure. Ranpo holding a meeting right when Dazai was here was simply too convenient.

Dazai decided to wait and listen. There was bound to be something worth learning if he kept his ears open.

. . . 

Ayatsuji didn't order. He declined the barkeep's polite offer of water and quietly sat smoking his pipe.

The noise didn't seem to bother him at all. He slowly pulled off his sunglasses with a thumb and forefinger, folded the arms neatly, and slipped them into a pocket. Ranpo had never met anyone he couldn't get a read on, but Ayatsuji was the first.

His face was entirely devoid of all emotion. 

"Was it a success?"

A smile ghosted his lips. "I'll take that as an insult, Ranpo."

Ranpo inclined his head. "My bad."

He closed his eyes briefly, relief flooding his veins. Of course, Ayatsuji had pulled through. He'd never failed Ranpo yet. 

Ayatsuji tapped his forefinger lightly on the wooden table in a rhythmic pattern. "There is a weapon, after all. Impressive."

"Of course there is. So, a fortress? An army of guards? Clever traps?"

Ayatsuji's eyes slid to Ranpo's. "Yes, I thought so, too. But it’s far worse than that."

Ranpo didn't reply as Ayatsuji took a puff from his pipe, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"The very name is a summoning spell."

His eyes churned with foreboding, staring far off into the distance.

"There are no guards, no protection. He doesn't need any. You understand, don't you?"

Ranpo closed his eyes, this time in frustrated acceptance. Ayatsuji knew he didn't need to say anymore. With those few words, Ranpo understood enough to slot the remaining pieces into place himself. Everything finally made sense.

A summoning spell. 

The entire past year of the cat and mouse chase Fyodor had been playing with the Resistance finally became clearer to Ranpo. It had been bothering him how Fyodor never truly pursued them seriously. It was challenging to stay hidden with the Children of the Blessed tag on their backs, but Ranpo had never had to work hard for their safety. Not in the way Fyodor could have made him.