"There are no wrong vehicles—only the wrong people to look for."
...
After finishing his parents' funeral arrangements, Edogawa Ranpo packed a small backpack for himself. Acting entirely on impulse, he bought a night bus ticket bound for Yokohama and stepped onto a road whose destination he could not foresee. What kind of scenery awaited him in a big city, what kind of people he would meet—none of it lay within Edogawa Ranpo's predictions. It was a world unknown, stretching out before him without explanation or promise.
With a pair of emerald-green eyes clearer and more transparent than those of most children his age, Ranpo pressed himself against the bus window, staring at his hometown as it gradually receded into the distance. In truth, he did not like the countryside at all. He disliked the rural towns, disliked the people, disliked the schools. The only things he had ever loved there were his father and his mother.
When he arrived at Yokohama's transit terminal, he felt as though a single grain of rice had fallen into a vast pot of porridge—suddenly, the number of people around him multiplied at once. Teenagers about his age rarely traveled alone; they followed obediently at their parents' sides. Men shielded women, women cradled children in their arms, all of them gentle in the same way his own parents had once been gentle with him. He felt a small, fleeting pang of envy. Turning his head away, he swiftly scanned the bus routes on the map, memorized them in an instant, and boarded a bus heading into the city center from the transit station.
On this journey alone, Edogawa Ranpo took in information from hundreds of people. His eyes darted restlessly, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of impressions, until he was once more submerged beneath the onrushing atmosphere of the big city.
As the bus traveled deeper into Yokohama, the variety of passengers began to change. He saw migrant laborers from the countryside, teachers, thieves, corporate employees, men heading out to nighttime rendezvous with women… ah—and there was someone with an unusual profession as well.
Edogawa Ranpo rose onto his toes and stomped lightly to wake his legs, which had gone numb from standing. Amid the crowd of Japanese passengers of varying heights, he unintentionally noticed a newly boarded figure.
It was a tall young man who, by all rights, should not have been riding a public bus.
By "should not," one meant that the man had already risen beyond the lower strata of society. He was not troubled by money and had recently attained a respectable managerial position. His attention to personal appearance surpassed that of everyone else on the bus: his chin was cleanly shaved, his suit brand-new, his tie knotted with meticulous care—though clearly not by his own hands.
Was it done by a lover? A wife? Or—oh? A boyfriend?
That boyfriend seemed to be carefully protected by the young man. Mentally fragile? Or perhaps his identity was problematic?
Japanese? Foreigner? French?
The man wore a French-style shirt with double cuffs and no chest pocket, yet over it he had on a locally tailored Japanese suit jacket. At his cuffs hung luxury cuff links with a distinctly French flair—clearly not aligned with his own aesthetic preferences. His tastes likely leaned toward Japanese styles, or perhaps those of the neighboring Huaxia region.
Beneath the suit jacket, he concealed a gun. It had been used recently. He possessed a moral baseline, treated strangers with calm composure, and did not grow angry even when jostled by the crowd. He was not someone who took pleasure in harming others.
Was this what father had once referred to as the mafia?
Ranpo's gaze settled on the matching ring the man wore—a couple's ring. He blinked once, and everything became immediately clear.
Boring adults not only loved to play dumb, they were especially fond of indulging in solitary or multiplayer games of romance, treating love like a battlefield where they tried to conquer whoever proved the more formidable opponent.
The instant Ranpo laid eyes on the young man, a flood of thoughts burst forth in chaotic succession. In less than a second or two, they assembled themselves into an immense mass of information. To Edogawa Ranpo, the world was almost like a transparent fish tank—he could effortlessly browse whatever he wished to see. And so, with unabashed excitement, he found himself brushing up against Yokohama's largest and most distinctive local industry: the Mafia.
Yet, mindful of the teachings instilled in him by his detective father, Edogawa Ranpo had no intention of approaching "bad people."
Ranpo was a good child.
However, while he was lost in thought, he was squeezed off the bus, powerless to resist the sturdy middle-aged women and elderly men around him, reduced to a pitiful sardine packed inside a tin.
"I should have avoided standing in the aisle ten seconds ago."
Edogawa Ranpo let out a silent whimper in his heart, then forced himself to focus and look around at the bus stop.
"We must have arrived!"
There was no way Ranpo had gotten off at the wrong stop!
A few seconds later, reality struck the countryside-born boy with merciless precision: he was still several stops away from the police academy he was trying to reach, and there was no way he felt like walking the rest of the distance…
Taking advantage of the moment, Edogawa Ranpo began searching for a kind-hearted stranger to ask for help, craning his neck and pacing back and forth as he explored the unfamiliar map.
At last, he spotted the black-haired young man again—the very one whose presence had led to him being shoved off the bus.
Edogawa Ranpo bounced on his feet.
"Uncle—!"
A free ride!
He called out several times, and what delighted Edogawa Ranpo even more was that the adult did not continue pretending to be foolish. One tedious act of play-acting—so often the source of his unhappiness—was spared him.
The man saw through his intentions at a glance and was willing to take him to the police academy.
Edogawa Ranpo could not remember how long it had been since he had last met an adult who could not be bothered to put on an act. His heart cheered with joy. People in the big city really were different from those in the countryside—honest, straightforward, and refreshingly unpretentious!
After arriving at the police academy, Edogawa Ranpo accepted the head-rubbing from the young man he had just met, his mind filled entirely with the thought: This uncle is just as smart as Mom and Dad.
He readily agreed to the conditions the man set. His father had taught him that promises made to intelligent people must be kept; otherwise, they could very easily make sure he suffered for it—like being forced to swallow red bean mochi he could not stomach.
This world was dangerous. He himself was ordinary. He had to protect himself, to survive, to keep living in this lonely world without his father and mother.
Once again made keenly aware of his own weakness and pitiful insignificance, Edogawa Ranpo, upon meeting his father's acquaintance, accepted the police academy principal's sponsorship without a second word.
His parents had been right, and what that uncle said was right as well: one could not be deceived by the apparent foolishness people displayed on the surface.
Children should listen to adults and study properly.
In the police academy dormitory, after settling in, Edogawa Ranpo left his roommates behind and ran outside. Not long after, he returned in low spirits. He had realized that the uncle had deliberately taken a detour and did not wish to see him again.
"If you don't want to, then fine. I don't care." Edogawa Ranpo had his own pride, and he forced himself to ignore the fleeting disappointment that flashed through his heart. After all these years, that uncle was the first adult—aside from his parents—to tell him, "You're too stupid," unlike everyone else, who either hypocritically praised him as clever or scolded him as unruly.
When had Ranpo ever been unruly?
If something was so obvious at a glance, why did people insist on pretending they did not understand, insisting on acting out a performance with him?
Edogawa Ranpo developed a new anticipation toward school. "The countryside is terrible. The rules in the city must be different, right?"
What happened today had given him boundless courage.
And that was the entirety of how Asou Akiya came to know Edogawa Ranpo.
…
Because he had crossed paths with Edogawa Ranpo, Asou Akiya had lately grown suspicious of everything, tense and exceedingly cautious.
A fiasco was absolutely out of the question.
He had been "driving" for so many years—how could a seasoned old hand like him lose so absurdly, in such a humiliating way?
Only after quite some time did Asou Akiya go to see Nakahara Chuuya. Chuuya first looked at him with a complexity of expression rarely seen in a nine-year-old, then hesitantly spoke up, his voice tangled with unease.
"Mr. Asou, about the cat-shaped cake last time… thank you. We enjoyed it very much. Um, Mr. Asou, do you like cats? I could catch one and give it to you."
Asou Akiya: "???"
The orange cat I want to raise is you!
Gathering his courage, Nakahara Chuuya continued, "I saw a calico cat with some orange markings in the streets around here. It seems to be a stray, but it's quite clean. I've heard that calico cats are very valuable. If you kept it, it would be just right."
A calico coat?
A clean stray that often appeared around Suribachi Street?
The legendary "Mii-chan"?
Asou Akiya sucked in a sharp breath and waved his hands repeatedly. "I can't afford it—really, I can't!"
Nakahara Chuuya drooped at once. "You've been so kind to us, Mr. Asou. I can't just keep accepting everything without giving anything back."
According to what his companions said, they were orphans, and it was only natural to accept help from kindhearted people. But based on his fledgling understanding of society, the ones who ought to provide for them should have been the government, not private individuals offering charity for free. Especially since Mr. Asou was not particularly wealthy and was busy with work every day, yet still took time to come and teach them—Chuuya could not bring himself to accept such pure goodwill and kindness without feeling anything at all.
Asou Akiya quickly understood where his inner conflict lay and silently praised him for having sound values. As expected of a kid I like.
"Teaching you makes me happy as well," he said gently.
The black-haired young man crouched down halfway, bringing himself to eye level with the small boy, treating him as an equal and respecting his personhood. Perhaps because his family in his previous life had been intellectuals of a high caliber, there was an elegance to him that set him apart from other members of the mafia—a refinement reminiscent of a university student from Huaguo.
'When one's mind is filled with books, grace naturally follows; it is the fragrance of learning that carries one far.'
The meaning of those words was simple: only those who read, who learn, and who enrich themselves with knowledge can truly go far in life.
"Chuuya, you're a smart child. This isn't charity, and I'm not doing this out of pity. I simply can't bear to see you give up on learning. I want to watch you grow, step by step, and become an outstanding person."
In all his years since transmigrating, Asou Akiya had spoken so softly and patiently to only two people.
One was his wife.
The other was his son.
Even Ranpo had never received this kind of treatment.
Noticing that Chuuya was about to speak up and argue, Asou lifted his hand and flicked the boy lightly on the forehead, the affection in the gesture unmistakable. "When you grow up, you can think about how to repay my investment then."
Nakahara Chuuya muttered awkwardly, "What investment… you just want to raise me."
Asou Akiya raised an eyebrow. So you do know.
Unable to keep it bottled up any longer, Chuuya lowered his voice and spoke his true thoughts. "Mr. Asou… I'm not suitable to be your adopted son. To be honest with you, my 'parents'… may have had a special background."
Asou Akiya's face filled with surprise, and inwardly he thought, Isn't your background literally me and Randou?
Chuuya grew even more nervous. "I don't want to drag you down."
Asou Akiya let out a helpless laugh, caught between tears and amusement. "I've already told you—because of my lover, I can't adopt you."
Nakahara Chuuya pulled him into a corner, pursed his lips, and held his hands out in front of him.
"Look."
A red glow bloomed around the orange-haired boy's hands, and in the center of his palms, a stone slowly floated up into the air.
"I'm different from everyone else…"
"..."
Asou Akiya, who had been watching with casual curiosity, suddenly fell silent. His gaze went blank as he listened to Chuuya struggle to articulate a worldview he could not fully put into words: I am different, and I cannot be adopted by ordinary people.
Asou Akiya said hoarsely, "Your companions don't have this kind of ability, do they?"
Then why was it that the members of the Sheep could live together like that?
Nakahara Chuuya had long since thought about this question. Inside his small head lived a sense of responsibility that seemed to come from nowhere. He straightened his back and said firmly, "They saved me. They took in someone like me, with an unknown past… Mr. Asou, I can't leave them. I have to use my own strength to protect everyone."
As he spoke, Nakahara Chuuya suddenly became flustered and hurriedly tried to comfort Asou Akiya when he caught the flash of sorrow in his eyes.
"S-sorry! Did I say something wrong? I didn't want to make you sad."
"No…" Asou Akiya replied softly. "Chuuya is right."
Asou Akiya could be said to be someone who had weathered great storms and seen vast worlds. When he had first crossed into this life, he too had believed himself chosen by fate, blessed with extraordinary luck—no matter how bad things became, he ought to have been a trendsetter of the age, riding the crest of history's waves.
He had merely been struck by reality once again.
"The one who's wrong is me."
He repeated it over and over, as though mourning in silence. "The one who's wrong is me."
Without possessing Edogawa Ranpo's talent, he had still presumptuously tried to cross that boundary, to step into the circle of those with supernatural abilities.
"Chuuya, I'm just an ordinary person."
Asou Akiya reached out and touched the orange-haired boy's hands, red light staining his skin as he made contact with that heavy gravity-based ability.
His muscles screamed in pain; his bones creaked and shifted ever so slightly.
"But—"
"I still want to protect you."
In a world this vivid and magnificent, how could he resign himself to sitting quietly in the audience, watching from behind the scenes without ever raising his voice?
Randou is my lover, and you are my child.
I don't want to lose either of you.