"Randou, do you remember your birthday?"
"I don't."
Randou, who had just yawned, paused slightly, then tilted his head to look at Akiya after their intimacy, his expression faintly dazed.
Did Akiya know, during the course of their relationship?
Asou Akiya himself couldn't clearly remember Randou's birthday either. A trace of guilt surfaced, yet there was nothing to be done—after all, in his previous life, he had never regarded the poet Randou as his wife, so forgetting a birthday was hardly surprising.
He changed his approach.
"Then how about celebrating it together with me from now on?"
"Sure."
Randou didn't particularly care about birthdays. The moment he heard Akiya's suggestion, he understood what the other was planning.
If there was nothing—then they would create it anew.
Randou himself was someone who had awakened into a blank slate. His family, his emotions, his past—all of them had been severed from the person he was now. The only thing connecting him to that past was Asou Akiya. Nestled in Akiya's arms, Randou grew drowsy, entrusting everything to him without reservation, and said lazily, almost like he was shirking responsibility, "With Akiya here, I feel very at ease. Akiya wouldn't bully me."
Asou Akiya nipped lightly at his ear. "I already did."
Randou laughed softly, pliant and gentle, like a pure breeze. "That doesn't count. I rather liked it."
Asou Akiya's heart melted.
For just a single second, Asou Akiya shamefully felt a resonance with the demon Fyodor and couldn't help but sigh: how wonderful it would be if this world had no supernatural abilities at all.
Unfortunately—if that were the case… how else would he ever have met Randou in the aftermath of that explosion?
What a troublesome yet blissful line of thought it was.
The fulfillment of his emotional life made Asou Akiya far more composed at work. He calmed down, grew increasingly meticulous and focused when handling contracts, and at last truly regarded the Port Mafia as a job through which he could prove his own abilities, rather than a place where a single careless step might turn him into expendable cannon fodder and cost him his life.
The change in the black-haired young man's presence was subtle, yet undeniably real.
Unflappable, steady, and reliable.
Once those three qualities settled onto someone, that person would inevitably stand out from the crowd and earn the notice of their superiors. In an era of war where anxiety ran rampant, there was someone who moved without haste, who went to work and left on time every day, who carried no sense of urgency about him. An invisible confidence supported him, allowing him to face all kinds of troublesome, trivial matters with a smile, giving others a feeling of ease and gentle warmth.
"Does being in a relationship really have that much of an effect?" his colleagues' murmurs never bothered to avoid his ears.
Asou Akiya's methods in managing interpersonal relationships were fairly ordinary, but he understood the value of generosity and knew how to enliven an atmosphere. Among the members responsible for translation, he was not the most outstanding, yet he was certainly not someone who would be forgotten.
In this world, the safest position is not first place, nor second or third—it is fourth.
Asou Akiya had a lover, kept a proper distance from his female colleagues, and thereby reduced the chances of becoming the target of envy. As a result, someone with good looks, decent eloquence, solid translation skills, and a background tied directly to the Port Mafia lineage instead became one of the fastest to receive promotions and raises.
A senior internal member of the Port Mafia arrived at the office.
"Asou Akiya, please come with me."
A new assignment had arrived.
Asou Akiya was granted an audience with the Port Mafia's leader. His task was to accompany the boss to a secret location and sign a weapons transport agreement with foreign arms dealers.
After being searched, he handed over his communication devices, then followed beside the captain of ten, Hirotsu Ryuurou, keeping his presence deliberately low throughout. Hirotsu Ryūrō spoke in a low voice, offering quiet instructions: "Don't look around. Stay behind me. When you see the boss, salute."
Twenty minutes later, after riding in a car and then transferring to a speedboat, the group arrived at an ocean-going cruise ship.
The moment all Port Mafia members saw the boss, they saluted in unison.
"Boss!"
Asou Akiya did not even have time to properly glimpse the boss's face before he followed Mr. Hirotsu in dropping to one knee, lowering his head and not daring to steal even a sidelong glance at these people whose nerves were stretched to the extreme.
Did he dislike kneeling?
He had already accepted that reality back at the very beginning of his transmigration.
On the cruise ship there were not only non–ability users, but also many ability users rarely seen in the everyday lives of ordinary people, any one of whom could crush him effortlessly—more easily than killing an ant.
This was a high-level collaboration; they would not dare to use a translator who was not fully trusted within the organization.
Only after standing back up did Asou Akiya finally get a clear look at the boss he almost never had the chance to meet. The man had a full head of white hair, was advanced in age, wore a beard, and when his face was not smiling it appeared extremely stern, the corners of his eyes etched with wrinkles. Even so, he managed to make a well-tailored black coat look like a rigid monk's habit.
[This man will become gravely ill in just a few more years.]
What Asou Akiya saw was a boss who still appeared relatively healthy. Drawing on the original owner's memories, he suddenly recalled that this was an exceptionally shrewd figure, the man who had single-handedly founded the present-day Port Mafia. His temper was unexpectedly decent. Before the meeting's counterpart arrived, he smiled in Hirotsu Ryuurou's direction and said, "Hirotsu, is this the kid you recommended? Both parents were with the Port Mafia?"
"Yes."
Hirotsu Ryuurou admitted that he himself had introduced Asou Akiya, which took Asou Akiya by surprise.
"Later, you'll be responsible for reviewing the documents. The other party is British, and not a single word spoken on this ship today is allowed to leak out." The Port Mafia boss spared him a few measured glances. Having seen countless people, he could naturally tell that Asou Akiya's performance was quite good, that he was not overly tense like other clerical staff.
"Yes, Boss." Asou Akiya swiftly withdrew his gaze, eyes lowered to his nose, nose settled to his heart, disciplining both sight and thought.
Far removed from the front lines of combat, clerical work within the Port Mafia carried one overriding requirement: secrecy. A loose mouth meant a lost life. This rule of the Mafia was carved into the heart of every member.
After the Port Mafia boss had been seated for a short while and finished half a cup of black tea, the British arms dealer arrived. The gentleman offered a restrained smile and, escorted by bodyguards, took his seat across the negotiating table. As his gaze swept over the Port Mafia members, there was something indescribable in his expression.
Asou Akiya felt uneasy the moment he saw it. Thinking more carefully, his heart skipped a beat.
Wasn't that the look one gave to fish laid out on a chopping board?
The Port Mafia boss's expression did not change; he treated it as though he had seen nothing. The guards, however, grew faintly colder in their demeanor.
The arms dealer spoke. "Mr. Boss of the Port organization, compared to our previous agreements, I wish to add one more condition this time." He raised a single finger and proposed a reason that bordered on the bizarre. "The Port Mafia must protect British nationals residing in Yokohama for five years, and assist them in resolving certain minor inconveniences in their daily lives."
The moment these words fell, surprise flashed across the faces of all the Port Mafia members.
Asou Akiya was equally bewildered.
The foreign settlement in Yokohama had been destroyed, and most foreigners had long since fled in terror. There were hardly any British people left at all.
"May I ask… are you acting on behalf of a government?" the elderly-looking Port Mafia boss suddenly asked.
"No," the arms dealer denied it.
Immediately afterward, he laid out an even more outrageous demand. "Without legitimate cause, should a single British national die, the Port Mafia must provide corresponding compensation. The specific clauses are already written into the contract." He paused, then added, "Naturally, if you uphold this agreement, the price of this arms shipment will be reduced slightly."
The Port Mafia boss fell silent in thought, his gaze shifting to the senior figures he had brought with him. All of them frowned. When matters involving foreign nationals were concerned, an unspoken sense of impending storm inevitably arose.
What, exactly, was happening on the international stage?
Why propose such an unreasonable deal?
Given the scale of the Port Mafia in Yokohama—and the fact that they were still constrained by the military police and the Special Division for Unusual Powers—they were in no position to grasp the government's movements. Everything was shrouded in fog, and for a long while they could not bring themselves to make a decision.
The British arms dealer, by contrast, was unhurried and composed, sipping his black tea with elegance, clearly unconvinced that profit-chasing wild dogs would ever walk away.
As long as they agreed, his additional objective for this trip would be fulfilled.
A cold sweat broke out across Asou Akiya's back.
He remembered.
This year, he was twenty-one; Mori Ougai was twenty-six; Yosano Akiko was eleven. The two of them would take part as military doctors in the Ability-User War on Tsukigami Island.
The final great battle of the early arc in the original Bungo Stray Dogs.
By next year, Japan would be defeated, and Yokohama would fall completely into the chaos of a "lawless zone." Warlords from various nations would insert themselves, carve up the land, seize resources, and abuse the privileges granted to foreigners. Whoever secured the advantage of local forces first would emerge as the winner in this scramble for profit.
Had foreign powers already begun laying their groundwork so early?
Put another way… what overwhelming confidence this was—confidence that Britain would win without question.
Even though Asou Akiya's soul was not Japanese, he could not help but feel a faint unease about the situation awaiting them next year.
War.
A defeated Japan.
In this world, the hierarchy of national strength differed from that of the real world. Britain's foundations surpassed even those of the United States; it was the strongest ability-user nation on the planet, while Japan was a pitiable minor power, crushed beneath the pressure of the great ability nations.
The only thing Asou Akiya could secretly take comfort in was the fact that Huaguo* was formidable. According to the intelligence he had gathered, Japan had never invaded Huaguo; the two maintained a peaceful diplomatic relationship. Moreover, Huaguo's overall strength was far from weak—it stood on the front line resisting European influence, and it was likely that Transcendents existed there as well.
*{Note: Huaguo is China.}
When it was Asou Akiya's turn to step forward and read the contract, his instincts screamed at him to run—to flee as far as possible. Better yet, he wished he had never boarded the cruise ship at all, had never been recommended by Mr. Hirotsu.
The contract was a trap.
What if the Port Mafia found itself unable to vent its anger on the British and instead settled accounts with him afterward?
One only had to look at the future brutality of the Port Mafia's leader to know the answer. The man was hardly broad-minded; describing him as someone who repaid the slightest slight with vengeance would not be an exaggeration. How could such a person ever believe that signing this contract had been nothing but his own error in judgment?
Within five years, the Port Mafia would pay an enormous price, dragged into a chaotic melee where warlords from multiple nations fought over profits.
Protect British nationals?
How laughable—the Port Mafia could barely protect itself.
Asou Akiya deliberately slowed his pace as he read the contract aloud, his mind racing frantically in search of a way out, hunting for loopholes within the text. Unfortunately, it was far too difficult. The other party had come with the express intent of leading the Port Mafia into a pitfall. Unless the Port Mafia maintained close ties with the Japanese government, and unless they could foresee the outcome of the Tsukigami Island war, they were very likely to fall straight into this trap.
The seasoned Port Mafia boss narrowed his eyes slightly, tasting hesitation in Asou Akiya's tone.
Had the brat responsible for translation noticed something amiss?
Yet when the boss looked toward the other two interpreters who frequently accompanied the organization to negotiations, both of them, after reading the contract, showed no sign of anything unusual, their expressions calm, as though there were no problems at all.
Out of sheer distrust for the British, the Port Mafia boss made a relatively wise decision.
"Please remain in Yokohama for the time being," he said coolly. "You will receive our reply tomorrow."
"Very well." The British arms dealer rose to his feet and accepted the decision. Under the Port Mafia's arrangements, his people disembarked from the cruise ship and headed into Yokohama City to spend some time sightseeing.
Once the outsiders were gone—
the atmosphere aboard the cruise ship grew heavy at once.
The Port Mafia boss spoke again. "Brat, tell me your opinion."
Hirotsu Ryuurou and the two veteran interpreters were all taken aback. The boss's attitude had shoved the newcomer straight into an awkward and dangerous position. Under the boss's lukewarm, unreadable gaze, Asou Akiya drew in a deep breath. There was no time left for regret now—ever since the moment he had hesitated over the contract, he had been forced to produce a flawless answer.
"Boss, first, allow me to quote an old saying from the East," he said. "There is no such thing as a free lunch falling from the sky."
He pressed a hand against the contract on the table, his fingers sliding over the supplementary clause about protecting British nationals, his voice firm and resolute.
"There is something wrong with this contract—absolutely something wrong with it. May I ask, under what circumstances would British citizens in Yokohama, Japan, not be protected by the military police, and become vulnerable to unnatural deaths? Only when Japan's military police are critically understaffed, and when the law in Yokohama has lost all meaning."
The Port Mafia boss's pupils contracted sharply.
Even one of the executives Asou Akiya had never met before was startled, feeling that the young man was engaging in reckless alarmism.
"What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"It is not nonsense," Asou Akiya replied. "The war has never truly ended… has it?"
The person he needed to persuade was the Port Mafia boss, so he fixed his gaze steadily on the man who held authority. His heartbeat accelerated, his brain tinged with faint oxygen deprivation—he had already gone far beyond the boundaries of what he had ever dared to say before.
The tides of the era were crashing down upon them, and he could not afford to sit and wait for death. The Port Mafia boss was a petty man, after all.
"Boss," he said again.
"For the sake of Yokohama, and for the shared interests of you and the organization, please do not fall into the British people's trap. I beg you to activate your connections on the government's side and investigate the movements of the military and our nation's ability users…"
"Has the country already gone to war? Will Yokohama become the next battlefield?"
Chang'an Island lay somewhere in the Pacific, seemingly an island created through supernatural abilities. As for what made it special, Asou Akiya did not know in detail—he had never deliberately studied its records. He only knew that the conflict centered primarily on ability users and represented the final round of maneuvering among the nations.
Yokohama, on the other hand, would face postwar chaos. It could hardly be called a battlefield; invoking it as one was more a matter of rhetoric.
After saying all this, sweat trickled down from Asou Akiya's temples. He took a breath, making no attempt to hide his nervousness or the urgency of his plea. In the eyes of everyone else, he was staking his future on thinking for the sake of the organization.
Hirotsu Ryuurou thought in disbelief, I never imagined Akiya-kun was this kind of person.
A small man, yet possessing great wisdom?
The Port Mafia boss, however, burst out laughing unexpectedly. He stood up and patted Asou Akiya on the shoulder. "Whether you are right or wrong, your line of thought surprises me. To be able to consider matters from this angle makes you a rare talent indeed." He was not mistaken—those who could extrapolate from small details to larger truths, and who would actively think about conflicts between nations, were exceedingly few.
He turned and swept his gaze over all his subordinates.
Then his voice dropped.
"The war has not ended. Any agreement made during wartime holds no real binding force. To speak frankly, even if we signed it, it would not matter—but I have no desire to become a fool in the eyes of the British."
"The Port Mafia will always be Yokohama's leading organization, and it will never sell out the interests of the nation!"
These words elevated the Port Mafia's stance and stirred the hearts of everyone present.
Asou Akiya was witnessing history unfold.
No matter how muddled the future might become, at this very moment the Port Mafia's boss was clear-headed, firm in his overall direction, and standing on the same side as the Japanese government, unwilling to sell out the nation's interests for the immediate profit of arms deals.
The boss fixed him with an expression so hearty it looked as though he might slash someone with a knife at any second, and deliberately addressed him.
"Kid, give me your name."
"Asou… Asou Akiya."
The black-haired young man bent at the waist in a bow and answered neither servilely nor arrogantly.
In the span of a single day, he had entered the Port Mafia boss's field of vision and left a deep impression on everyone involved in the negotiations.
Reckless courage.
Words that shocked the room.
No one envied Asou Akiya for stealing the spotlight; instead, they mocked him in their hearts. If his judgment proved wrong and cost the Port Mafia benefits that had been within easy reach, this person could simply be thrown into the sea to feed the fish.
The Port Mafia respected talent—on the condition that it was genuine talent.
That very night, Asou Akiya was confined within the Port Mafia headquarters and forbidden from contacting the outside world.
He turned his face to the side and stared blankly at the closed window.
Randou…
So this is the dangerous atmosphere you're always surrounded by…
Only after stepping outside his usual zone of comfort did Asou Akiya truly realize what it cost to climb higher. Rather than saying that ability users were born above others, it was more accurate to say that they were far more likely to brush against danger. Over time, the trials they endured were harsher than those faced by ordinary people, and through that constant sharpening, their vision and understanding inevitably surpassed the norm.
A person's limits, more often than not, are forced into existence.
After staying awake through the entire night, enduring a sleepless vigil until dawn, Asou Akiya waited with bloodshot eyes for the outcome of the next day.
The result arrived—
The arms deal worth hundreds of millions of dollars had been canceled.
When Asou Akiya learned of it, he brewed himself a cup of coffee in a daze.
He was exhausted to the bone.
His reaction was reported honestly to the Port Mafia boss and received an evaluation of "not bad." The records of his life since birth were laid out on the boss's desk, and even the mention of his French lover failed to surprise him. In an era lacking surveillance cameras and systematic investigative awareness, most intelligence came from colleagues' evaluations and handwritten documentation. In that regard, Asou Akiya had taken precautions early on.
On the third day, Asou Akiya finally returned home, and Randou wrapped his arms around his lover without saying a single word.
Randou was exceptionally perceptive. After realizing he could not contact Akiya, he stopped sending messages, drew the curtains at home, and waited patiently instead of impulsively rushing to the Port Mafia to look for him.
He believed Akiya would come back.
As someone without official status, going to the Port Mafia would only have caused more trouble.
Asou Akiya let out a soft laugh and tugged him toward the door, glossing over the danger as he said lightly, "My dear, I got a promotion and a raise."
Randou's expression remained shadowed, unable to summon any real joy.
Asou Akiya tightened his grip on Randou's hand.
"Life can never be smooth sailing. All I can do is become someone who rides the waves—someone who doesn't get drowned by the tides of the era—and you are my only point of reference in this city."
"And what if you do get swallowed by the waves?"|
Randou's question went straight to the heart of the matter; he was not someone who could be soothed by honeyed words.
Asou Akiya let out a soft hum, closed his eyes, cast aside countless hollow lies, and answered with an unrestrained honesty.
"Then I'll do everything I can to find a life buoy. I'll never give up on the hope of living. As long as you're still waiting for me, I will come back to you. I will never die quietly, without a sound."
I'm afraid of death.
But I'll learn how to arm myself and fight against it.
"Let's go eat hot pot," Asou Akiya said with a smile to Randou, who clearly had little appetite. His tone carried a rare note of longing and closeness. "I'm really hungry. I want to eat something hot, somewhere lively, together with you."
Randou had never experienced Akiya's dependence before; it had always been Akiya standing in front of him, shielding him from the wind and the rain.
In that instant, he understood his own meaning.
It was companionship.
All at once, a surge of strength poured into Randou's heart, driving away the cold. He wanted to treat Akiya with the same gentleness Akiya had always shown him—even if this person was not as invincible as he had imagined.
Randou seized Akiya and strode forward without hesitation. "It's just hot pot, isn't it?"
The French beauty's long hair brushed past Asou Akiya's ear, carrying a familiar fragrance and a soft, comforting touch.
"We could eat it for a lifetime."
A lethal answer.
Asou Akiya swallowed hard, no longer sure whether what he craved was the hot pot—or the person beside him.
Don't think about it!
He was going to order the spiciest broth there was!
—
Author's Note:
There are many Bungou Stray Dogs fanfics and pre-release story outlines in the author column.
Everyone is welcome to bookmark and follow the column!
In the Bungou Stray Dogs world setting, the strongest ability-powered nation is Britain.
I went to Xinhua Bookstore yesterday but couldn't find poetry collections by Rimbaud or Verlaine; it looks like an online order is unavoidable.
PS: France has no shortage of famous writers, but Britain feels like a hornet's nest packed full of big shots!