If one wanted a birthday celebration to feel truly distinctive, the first step was always to decide on a theme in advance.
Asou Akiya's very first thought was [Princess and Knight].
Thanks to years of being steeped in Japanese shōjo manga, Asou Akiya was never short on imagination in this regard—especially this year, when Vampire Knight, currently serialized in LaLa, had exploded in popularity. The image of a heroine surrounded by a host of beautiful young men was so striking that it lingered stubbornly in the mind, impossible to forget.
To his surprise, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru showed no resistance to the idea of "knights" drawn from European culture. They accepted the theme without objection.
"Do we need to order outfits?" Gojo Satoru asked. "I've never worn a suit before."
Geto Suguru teased him lightly. "It's still better than being a gofer."
Asou Akiya laughed silently to himself. As if you can really escape the fate of being a lackey, he thought. Even a delivery knight is still a knight.
After the dorm lights were switched off and everything fell quiet, the three of them continued chatting enthusiastically about Ieiri Shoko's upcoming birthday party.
"So," Gojo Satoru said, "step one is booking the bar, step two is getting the suits. What's step three?"
Geto Suguru replied based on his impressions. "Flowers. Or maybe a bouquet."
"As expected of you, Geto," Asou Akiya said. "You really know your stuff. Have you been secretly playing otome games?"
Geto Suguru shot back at him. "Not as much as you do, Asou."
Only then did Gojo Satoru realize that the two of them were talking straight past him, and that Geto was even deliberately steering the conversation away. Unhappy, he suddenly lunged forward and smashed his head into Geto Suguru's. Geto cried out in pain and snapped angrily, "Are you some hot-blooded idiot who headbutts people because you can't hold a proper conversation?"
Gojo Satoru bared his teeth in a grin. "That's because you didn't bother to defend yourself with cursed energy."
Rolling over, Gojo Satoru propped himself up and deliberately formed a human barrier to block Geto Suguru from view. "Akiya," he said, "what's step four?"
Asou Akiya glanced at the sight beside him. A white-haired beauty so striking that even the manga industry rarely produced his equal, and inspiration came pouring in without end. He wanted Ieiri Shoko's birthday banquet to be something she would still find unforgettable even ten years from now.
"Step four," he said slowly, "is renting an imposing luxury car…"
"I get it!" Gojo Satoru exclaimed at once. "There's a scene like that in TV dramas—using a stretched limousine to welcome the princess of a wealthy family!"
"No," Asou Akiya rejected it flatly. "A stretched limousine is far too ostentatious, and it's a nightmare to park in the city."
"A convertible sports car, then?"
"Most sports cars only have two seats. Are you planning to make Geto and me trail behind you like lackeys?"
"A convertible luxury car?"
"Why are you so obsessed with convertibles?"
"Someone as handsome as me," Gojo Satoru said shamelessly, "wearing a suit for the first time and putting on sunglasses—of course I need to dress up properly and let everyone admire me."
"..."
Asou Akiya reached the limit of his patience. This was utterly impossible to communicate. He turned and called out, "Geto, switch places with Gojo."
"Akiya, am I really wrong?" Gojo Satoru shouted in disbelief.
"Right—so right it hurts. Now move aside, please," Geto Suguru said calmly. He rolled over and, using his weight, pressed Gojo Satoru flat like a biscuit. Gojo let out a miserable scream, spitting a stream of very unflattering insults as he loudly accused Geto Suguru of being fat.
"Asou, let's continue," Geto Suguru said, having claimed the middle position, just like they used to sit back in their early school days.
"I'm planning to hire a luxury car," Asou Akiya said, continuing the discussion with him. "I'll be the driver and sit in the driver's seat. Do you have any cursed spirits that can create illusions? Can you help me cover it up? I'm underage—if the traffic police stop me, it'll be trouble."
Geto Suguru laughed. "Did you forget about our jujutsu sorcerer credentials? We do have certain privileges, you know."
Asou Akiya sighed in distress. "You still have to consider the possibility that the traffic police won't understand those credentials and will just think we're a bunch of mischievous kids."
"We can dress a bit more maturely," Geto Suguru suggested.
He poured cursed energy into his eyes and looked at Asou Akiya with enhanced night vision. The other had already cut off his long hair, which made Geto feel a trace of regret.
"In terms of presence and bearing," Geto Suguru said, "Asou and I won't fall that far behind actual adults."
"No, I'm not nearly that world-weary," Asou Akiya objected.
"All right, all right," Geto Suguru relented with a chuckle. "We're invincible, youthful high school boys. If it really comes to it, we can always hire an assistant supervisor to help."
"That works too."
After Asou Akiya finished discussing the plan with Geto Suguru, the latter still showed no intention of switching back to his original spot.
Ignoring the clapping and urging from someone behind him, Geto Suguru asked with curiosity, "Asou, I don't often get to look at you this closely."
He leaned in a little nearer.
Resting on the pillow, Asou Akiya's expression was gentle; there was less of his usual composure in his voice, and he seemed far less intimidating than he did during the day.
As Geto Suguru drew closer, Asou Akiya instinctively shrank back.
Geto Suguru said, not particularly seriously, "Looking at you up close, you really do look younger than the rest of us—your features are softer, more delicate. Want to take a page from my book and tan your skin to a nice wheat color?"
Asou Akiya bristled, mildly indignant. "I'm still in my growth phase. My future is full of promise."
He was just about to push Geto Suguru away when, all of a sudden, Geto Suguru floated upward, suspended in midair above the bed.
Geto Suguru blew his bangs aside. "Gojo, you're being way too petty."
After levitating Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru smoothly reclaimed his sleeping spot, clearly unwilling to let Geto play the role of a DK lounging with someone tucked under each arm.
"I just can't stand watching you pick on Akiya," Gojo Satoru said bluntly.
"I didn't bully him," Geto Suguru protested.
"Then why did you say Akiya doesn't look as good as us?" Gojo Satoru shot back. "I think Akiya looks perfectly fine."
"Oh, come on, Gojo, try to understand," Geto Suguru said helplessly. "That was flirting!"
"Huh?"
Gojo Satoru was about to gently lower Geto Suguru back down when Asou Akiya grabbed his hand and shoved it straight under the blanket. The instant Gojo lost physical contact—the prerequisite for maintaining the technique—Geto Suguru plummeted, slamming onto the bed frame with a dull thud. He grimaced, clutching his waist as he struggled back upright.
Asou Akiya covered Gojo Satoru's ears with both hands, his voice brimming with disdain. "Don't listen to the things Geto says."
Just like countless high school dorm rooms everywhere, perfectly ordinary straight-boy DKs had an unmatched talent for fooling around until their backs nearly broke.
Gojo Satoru stopped listening altogether. His ears were wrapped in warm palms, the night dissolving into a faint, gentle white noise.
"Akiya~."
In the pitch-black darkness, the air was thick with the scent of youth.
"Hmm?"
Asou Akiya responded softly.
"When that night comes," Gojo Satoru said, "I want to wear the coolest suits with you guys and go pick up Princess Shoko. Will you teach me how to drive and how to drink, okay? I've never touched a single drop of alcohol in the Gojo household."
Gojo Satoru had learned how to ask for a classmate's opinion—no, it wasn't quite acting cute, yet it was more disarming than outright coquettishness.
"All right. We'll learn slowly, bit by bit," Asou Akiya replied. He lowered the hands that had been covering Gojo Satoru's ears and rested one gently against his forehead. Beneath the snow-white fringe were the Six Eyes that stubbornly refused to close—an absolute forbidden territory, one he could not touch.
"Close your eyes and go to sleep," Asou Akiya said quietly. "Don't be a night owl."
"Okay."
Gojo Satoru shut his eyes, as though turning off the very last light left on in the dormitory.
November 7th, Monday, 10:00 a.m.
Even during class, Ieiri Shoko had sensed that something was up. The three boys in the class were constantly messaging on their phones, yet there were no corresponding records in either the class group chat or their four-person group. It was painfully obvious that they were conspiring behind her back about some kind of "secret."
But in this world, were there really any secrets that could stay hidden?
It was just her birthday, after all.
Ieiri Shoko smiled calmly, a quiet sense of anticipation blooming for the hours after school.
4:30 p.m.
The moment classes ended at Tokyo Jujutsu High, the three DKs vanished without a trace.
In their place, a massive European-style gift box sat atop Ieiri Shoko's desk, tied neatly with a bow. Beside it lay a bouquet of flowers, arranged to be carried in one's arms.
Ieiri Shoko reached out and tugged on one of the ribbons.
The gift box opened.
Inside lay a pure white cocktail dress, accompanied by a card that read: [From me~.]
Next was a pristine white handbag, its card declaring: [From Gojo~.]
Then came a pair of elegant white high heels, the card beside them reading: [From Geto~.]
Finally, there was a pearl necklace meant to complement the dress—an aurora-hued strand worthy of a celestial maiden, beautiful in the dreamy colors cherished in a young girl's heart. It came from one of Japan's most renowned seawater pearl brands. Fifty-three flawless warm-white pearls were strung together into a necklace measuring forty-three centimeters in length, shimmering with fluid light. The surface of the pearls was polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting back Ieiri Shoko's cool, composed features.
The last card read:
[This pearl necklace was carefully chosen by all of us together. Geto and Gojo were only one step away from diving into waters less than two hundred meters deep to harvest oysters themselves and crack them open to find pearls by hand. Happy 16th birthday. May you shine like a pearl—always treasured by everyone, always radiant. To our beautiful Miss Shoko~.]
[Now, please try them on. We're waiting for you at the school gate to pick you up and celebrate your birthday.]
[—Tokyo Jujutsu High DK Trio]
Who said highschool boys didn't understand romance?
As long as there was an Asou Akiya among them, he would personally teach his classmates, step by step.
Ieiri Shoko's nose stung. She raised the back of her hand to cover her mouth and nose, then let out a soft, stifled laugh. "Gojo and Geto don't have a romantic bone in their bodies," she said with certainty. "Something this embarrassingly sweet must have been written under Asou's direction."
She closed the classroom doors and windows, changed into the outfit, and then took out her makeup from her bag to freshen up.
She couldn't let everyone's expectations go to waste.
Twenty minutes later.
The DKs stood beside a luxury car parked at the school entrance, craning their necks and waiting with mounting anticipation, until at last the birthday girl appeared before them.
She was a short-haired girl in a pure white cocktail dress, bouquet in hand, her steps crisp and assured—the white-clad angel of Tokyo Jujutsu High who had saved countless lives.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, my knights."
Ieiri Shoko extended her right hand with easy familiarity, offering it to the three handsome DKs dressed in black suits, each styled with a different shirt.
She had assumed only Asou Akiya would catch her playful cue, yet all three of them reached out at the same time.
Four hands met.
Laughter followed.
Gojo Satoru, who embodied the sharpest, coolest edge of the day, wore sunglasses. The black suit accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, long legs and slim hips, a pocket square tucked neatly at his chest. Without even seeing his full face, he looked every bit like a man in his early twenties.
It was as though he had recovered manners long since misplaced. With one hand pressed to his chest, he solemnly took on the responsibility of welcoming the princess.
"Please choose your seat, Shoko," he said. "The front passenger seat—or the back, between me and Geto."
"…Where exactly are you planning to take me?"
"5-11, Ginza 5-chome, Chūō City, Tokyo. The bar is reserved exclusively for tonight. Shoko, drink to your heart's content."
Gojo Satoru flashed the signature smile he'd only acquired after enrolling at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
He gifted his classmates a piece of clear, cloudless sky.
In the driver's seat, Asou Akiya projected an air of complete maturity. At fifteen, dressed in a black suit, with the cold edge that seeped from his bones, he looked uncannily like a second mafia executive—one who might stand beside Yaga Masamichi himself.
Asou Akiya made a crisp hand gesture. "Departure! We're partying at the bar all night!"
From the back seat, the other three shouted in unison, "Departure!"
Tokyo's Ginza—there was an old, long-established bar hidden there.
The bar was small, tucked away in a narrow alley, steeped in literary atmosphere. Its owner was an elderly gentleman. When he heard that someone had paid a considerable sum to reserve the place for the night, he said nothing more, simply smiling as he chose to close for the evening, leaving his nephew, Takasaki Tatsuhiko, behind to help.
Tonight, "Bar Lupin" welcomed a group of handsome young men and beautiful young women who looked nothing like ordinary high school students.
They descended the steps into the basement bar and took seats once occupied by the famed "Three Mavericks" of Japanese literature. The boys were dressed in sharply tailored black suits, the girl in a pure white cocktail dress—more like guests attending an elite soirée than jujutsu students who had seen the bloody underside of the world and come drinking together.
"Why did you choose this place?" Ieiri Shoko asked. She loved alcohol, and naturally, she loved bars.
"You're wondering why, with so many bars in Tokyo, I picked such a secluded one," Asou Akiya said gently, taking the opportunity to explain the origins of Bar Lupin. "This used to be a venue for literary salons. Writers like Dazai Osamu were regulars here. As time passed, the original owner passed away, and the bar was inherited by his younger brother, an eighty-year-old man. It's only a little over twenty years away from a full century of history—a bar that has endured, upheld by the sentiment and nostalgia of the Japanese people."
"I wanted to find a fixed, discreet place to drink," he continued, "somewhere we could gather every year without worrying about it closing down, without worrying about the environment being too noisy and ruining the mood. A place where we can drink for a lifetime, and talk for a lifetime."
Asou Akiya held a special affection for Japan's Bar Lupin, much as he regarded France as the sacred land of modern literature—missing it would have been far too regrettable.
What was more, when Bungou Stray Dogs began serialization in January 2013, Bar Lupin would become the "Lupin" bar in the manga—a place steeped in boundless sorrow, woven into the memories of Dazai Osamu, Sakaguchi Ango, and Oda Sakunosuke. When that time came, Asou Akiya, who bore more than a passing resemblance to the manga's version of Dazai, would surely be teased mercilessly by his classmates.
The L-shaped bar counter was an everlasting memory of this place, one that time itself could not erase.
Asou Akiya hoped that the four of them could escape their ill fates and live long enough to one day sit together and chat about anime.
Takasaki Tatsuhiko emerged from the small door behind the bar counter. With a neatly trimmed mustache and dressed in a three-piece suit, he took his place at the bartending station and, in the courteous manner of a seasoned bartender, asked, "What would you gentlemen and lady like to drink?"
Asou Akiya turned to look at him, his eyes burning bright, as though he had crossed straight into the world of Bungou Stray Dogs.
All the pleasures of traveling abroad, all the delight of a pilgrimage to a sacred place, converged in that single moment.
And his cool, melancholic yet exquisitely refined youthful features left Takasaki Tatsuhiko struck with awe at first sight.
"One cocktail that tastes like dishwashing liquid, please."
"..."
Takasaki Tatsuhiko was left utterly speechless.
"Don't mind that—just kidding," Asou Akiya said, sticking out his tongue. Amid his companions' laughter, he settled back into his seat, legs neatly together, enjoying the birthday celebration with a demeanor that appeared gentle on the surface yet remained defiantly untamed beneath. At the same time, he casually cut off Gojo Satoru's eager attempt to imitate him and place an order of his own, allowing the three of them to yield the spotlight of the night's most dazzling protagonist to Ieiri Shoko.
"Shoko, what would you like to drink?" Asou Akiya asked. "One of this place's signature drinks is a Moscow Mule served in a copper mug."
"Sounds good. I'll have one."
Ieiri Shoko ordered without even glancing at the alcohol content. Smoking and drinking—she was adept at both, carrying herself with a breezy nonchalance that made Geto Suguru, who could only handle low-proof alcohol, click his tongue in admiration.
The number-one heavyweight drinker ranked in the Jujutsu Kaisen official fanbook delivered her ultimatum.
"Tonight, all of you are drinking with me!"
"We're not going home until we're drunk!"
Author's Note:
Asou Akiya has always loved literary works, which is why he's especially fond of Bungou Stray Dogs.
The "Lupin" bar that Dazai Osamu frequently visits in Bungou Stray Dogs actually exists in real life, right there in Ginza, Tokyo.
{Note: Akiya's love for literary works is even more pronounced in the other Bungou Stray Dogs ff I'm translating. I highly recommend checking it out. I personally think it's really good.}