Fukuzawa chose solitude, but this kid didn’t even get that luxury. Besides, there was no way Fukuzawa could reject him now after seeing him this ecstatic.
“Great! Now that that’s settled, let’s get a move on! First, I’ll just get my stu— Wait. First, I’ll wash my hands and— Wait, wait, wait. Before that, I wanna eat something a little salty! The inside of my mouth is so sweet that I can’t take it anymore! Hold this for me! I’m gonna go to the fried snack shop next door and get something to eat. Oh, hey! Actually, how about you go grab me something instead? Ugh, I’m so thirsty! Get me some tea, would ya, old guy?”
Ranpo was full of smiles.
A thought crossed Fukuzawa’s mind:
Maybe I ought to just toss him into the ocean.
Three times, Fukuzawa told Ranpo to quiet down as he whined for candy.
Twice, Ranpo wore down Fukuzawa’s patience until he caved.
Three times, Ranpo asked Fukuzawa why planes could fly.
Four times, Fukuzawa convinced Ranpo to keep walking when he complained his legs were tired.
Four times, Fukuzawa carried Ranpo on his back.
The two of them finally arrived at their next destination, but Ranpo endlessly rambled, asked for opinions, and complained all along the way: “I hate walking. I’m not built for physical labor. Traveling’s such a waste of time. What’s the point of phones if we’re not going to use them? Are we still not there yet? I want some more candy. This brand has been garbage recently. Their products got worse after they changed CEOs. Cities are awful, but the countryside is worse. I wanna go on a sightseeing cruise. I wanna feed the birds. Are we seriously not there yet? I want more candy. How are we not there yet? I want more candy. Are you sure we’re not taking the long way?”
Fukuzawa didn’t even bat an eye. A child’s irritating ramblings were nowhere near enough to break the mental concentration of a man who had trained his spirit and technique through mastering ancient Japanese martial arts. His daily trainin
g had paid off; he was able to deal with Ranpo the entire time without letting anything show up on his face.
Nevertheless, while he was responding with nods and brief interjections, he had mentally already tossed Ranpo to the curb. He tied up Ranpo, left him on the street corner, and went home…in his head. He removed a manhole cover, tricked Ranpo to fall into it, and splash! After hearing Ranpo fall to his demise, he closed the manhole cover and left…in his head. Fukuzawa quietly came up with fifty ways to get rid of Ranpo and go home, but all the events solely took place in his mind. The more ideas Fukuzawa came up with, the more expressionless his face became, thus saving him from ever losing his temper and yelling. Ranpo even expressed admiration in the end. After idly gazing at Fukuzawa’s expression, he said:
“You’re one patient old guy.”
It was a moment of great danger. If Fukuzawa’s concentration had wavered in even the slightest, Ranpo would have a manhole over his head by now. Fukuzawa’s daily training in the martial arts really was coming in handy. After traveling for two hours, Fukuzawa had finally come up with his fifty-first idea…but it was something far too wicked to ever repeat. Soon after, they eventually reach their destination.
“A theater?”
“Yes.”
The deep-blue evening sky hung over them as they stood before the rectangular theater building. The current play’s poster was plastered on the bulletin board at the entrance. A few patrons could already be seen inside, despite there being quite a bit of time left before the show started. There was a stone monument installed in the wall with the words THEATRUM MUNDI carved into it.
Ranpo frowned melodramatically. “This looks so boring.”
“The owner here is short on staff. If all goes well, then we can probably get you a job.”
“What did the client hire you for anyway?”
“A death threat.”
Fukuzawa began to walk toward the entrance. Ranpo soon jogged after him.
After going through the service entrance in the back, Fukuzawa walked down the staircase to the basement, where the theater owner greeted him.
“So?” the owner demanded casually. “What’s your excuse for being late?”
The owner was a woman in a suit, probably around Fukuzawa’s age. With her chest held out and her arms crossed before her hips, she looked up at Fukuzawa with a defiant gaze. She seemed to have a tic where she would push up her glasses every few moments or so. Her wiry black-framed glasses were shaped like acute triangles.
“My apologies, Ms. Egawa.”
Fukuzawa bowed his head before the woman. It was Ranpo’s fault they were late due to his whining and grumbling, but that had nothing to do with this lady.
“Sigh. It’s fine.”