Nakahara Chuuya's heart felt as though it had been immersed in warm water.
In an instant, it grew gently, soothingly warm.
The orange-haired boy listened to everything Asou Akiya said, utterly at a loss as to what to do, and driven by a sudden impulse, he threw his arms around the man's neck. Fortunately, he dispersed his supernatural ability just in time—otherwise, it would have turned into a crushing surge of gravity.
"Asou-san!"
So… this was what the human world was like?
Having always regarded himself as a monster, Nakahara Chuuya finally truly tasted what it meant to be human.
Asou Akiya lifted him up, unwilling to miss the child's first voluntary embrace. Chuuya, like this, was exactly the same as Randou back then—after losing his memories, smiling with pure, unguarded innocence. He had missed the chance to raise Chuuya in the past, but in the days to come, he would find ways to make it up to him, to give Chuuya a childhood better than the one written in the original story.
"You choose to stay in Suribachi Street—that is your decision, and I won't interfere," Asou Akiya said softly, gently patting the orange-haired boy's back, as though comforting a very young son. This kind of affection from an elder was something human children should have experienced as infants, yet for Nakahara Chuuya, this was the first time.
"Please forgive me for not being able to protect you more."
"Chuuya."
Asou Akiya placed a kiss on Chuuya's cheek, just as he had done back then, tinged with the same faint apology.
Nakahara Chuuya's surge of emotion stalled.
This feeling—somehow, it was familiar.
Guided by his animal-like instincts, Nakahara Chuuya blurted out, "Asou-san, have you met me before?!"
Asou Akiya ruffled the orange cat's hair into a mess and replied lightly, "Which time are you talking about?"
Nakahara Chuuya clutched the silver longevity amulet hidden beneath his clothes, his body tensing with nerves. "Two years ago…"
Asou Akiya lowered his gaze to look at him. As he reined in the emotions threatening to spill over, his eyes became like jet-black, crystal-clear glass beads.
"Nope."
The black-haired young man denied it outright.
Holding the young Arahabaki in his arms, he spoke in a tone that sounded almost like a joke, gently soothing the other person. "If you ask me, I think I must have met you in a past life, Chuuya. That's why we get along so well."
Once a lie has a beginning, it is hard to stop it from continuing.
Asou Akiya had no intention of dragging the past into the light. Trump cards were things you used only at the moment when your life was on the line.
And what he hoped for—
Was that such a day would never come.
...
Yokohama, Japan, had fallen into becoming a different kind of "concession."
On the international stage, the major ability powers—Britain, France, and Germany—were likewise shrouded in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.
In truth, all three countries had suffered a humiliating loss of face.
The real truth behind the World Ability War was tightly covered up by Europe, yet fragments still leaked out afterward. There were rumors that the heads of state of the three nations had been kidnapped by ability users and taken to Tokoyami Island for negotiations, where they were forced to agree to an end to the war. During that period, aircraft carriers from various countries were mobilized, and the decisive battlefield was shifted to a special island in the Pacific Ocean, rather than continuing the land warfare where blood and brains had already been spilled.
The entire world was forcibly pushed into a "peace period," and after paying different prices, the nations signed a ceasefire agreement.
That war, in turn, made the name of a newly born ability organization resound across the world.
Its name was—[The Seven Traitors].
Within the Port Mafia, although they knew less than the government did, they still obtained intelligence that hovered between rumor and truth.
The Port Mafia's boss handed the materials to Asou Akiya to read, a gesture that showed how highly he valued the man's intellect.
"Akiya-kun, what do you think?"
"Please give me a moment, Boss."
Asou Akiya replied briskly. He quickly unfolded the thin sheet of paper, fully aware of how precious this information was. Even in the original work, this stretch of history had never been described in much detail. It was only because Yokohama had become a gathering place for foreigners, a chaotic den of all kinds of people, that an international terrorist incident of this scale had surfaced so quickly.
The instant he saw the words "The Seven Traitors" and "Tokoyami Island," he knew it was real.
At the same time, he fervently hoped that Paul Verlaine was not among their members.
Otherwise, it would be almost impossible for Arthur Rimbaud to take his revenge.
Judging from the organization's name alone, and from what it had done, the "Seven Traitors" were most likely seven Transcenders. Otherwise, the ability users of Britain, France, and Germany would have mobilized together and torn them apart long ago.
Asou Akiya sifted through his thoughts, then let out a breath. "I've finished reading."
The Port Mafia boss remained silent.
In truth, he had already held Asou Akiya in extremely high regard, yet he was still impressed by the man's performance. Even he himself had been deeply shaken after reading the report, while Asou Akiya remained remarkably restrained.
Asou Akiya knew the plot. Even if his understanding was incomplete, he still possessed the ability to judge truth from falsehood.
"Boss, most of what's in these materials is false, but a small part of it is real," Asou Akiya said evenly. "Top-tier ability users in the world are capable of turning the tide of an entire war on their own. If several of them joined forces, kidnapping heads of state would not be impossible. And for the sake of peace, idealists are willing to pay any price."
The Port Mafia boss rubbed his temples and cut him off. "Wait. Tell me how you arrived at that conclusion."
Asou Akiya shook his head. "It's not something that can be neatly analyzed. It's more intuition, and a judgment born of understanding war. The amount of blood spilled behind every world-scale war is far greater than what's written here. The end of this war came far too abruptly."
Hearing this, the boss felt the malignant resentment lodged in his chest grow heavier, with nowhere to be released.
"Is that so…"
The war had ended, and the chaos in Yokohama was treated by the various nations' warlords as part of the compensation.
The aging boss loathed the current situation to the core.
Sensing the chill radiating from him, Asou Akiya's gaze unconsciously dropped to the carpet in the boss's office as he spoke. "Boss, compared to other organizations, the Port Mafia has already managed to preserve itself fairly well… You did everything you could. It's just that we underestimated the 'trauma' war would leave behind."
The boss said heavily, "No. I underestimated it. You did not. Stop being evasive. Tell me your judgment outright. I trust your sensitivity to war. Yokohama cannot be allowed to descend further into chaos."
Asou Akiya really wanted to shrug, but his relationship with the boss wasn't close enough for that kind of casualness.
So he answered honestly. "I estimate the turmoil will last another two to three years, until the foreign warlords withdraw."
The boss froze. "…That short?"
The corner of Asou Akiya's mouth twitched. That wasn't short at all. No matter how badly Japan had lost, it was still better off than a certain neighboring peninsula.
Japan lacked top-tier combat power, but its mid- and lower-level forces were barely sufficient to hold the line.
The moment he heard that the projected end date of the turmoil fell within an acceptable range, the Port Mafia boss's thoughts began to stir. "Then tell me… with ability users that powerful, does the Port Mafia have any hope of establishing contact with 'The Seven Traitors'?"
Asou Akiya replied with an awkward yet courteous smile, "Boss, we are Japanese."
The boss frowned in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
Asou Akiya felt a surge of pride for his homeland in his previous life, and at the same time couldn't help sparing a second of pity for the humbly diminished Japanese government of the present.
"Europeans generally look down on Japan. To make contact with them, we would have to go to the dangerous Tokoyami Island. Forgive my bluntness, Boss, but compared to dealing with top-tier ability users of unknown background, it would be better to spend our time cultivating our own ability users. Every discipline has its specialization—only ability users can counter other ability users."
"..."
The Port Mafia boss was left speechless. It sounded easy enough when said aloud, but ability users were hardly so simple to cultivate.
Asou Akiya could only express that he would continue to earn money wholeheartedly for the Port Mafia.
The boss sighed. "You may go. I approve your investment in the health supplement industry."
Asou Akiya's departing steps grew noticeably lighter.
The boss shot a glance at his subordinate's retreating back and laughed as he scolded, "So young, yet already researching this sort of thing. If you don't take care of your body, you'll pay for it sooner or later—believing in health supplements, of all things…"
Yet despite his words, once samples of the new health supplements—blended from various traditional Chinese herbs said to tonify the kidneys and boost virility—were delivered, the Port Mafia's upper ranks tacitly ensured that each of them had a box. They wouldn't harm the body, and every claimed function and effect was beneficial to male health. Asou Akiya understood them far too well. No man could resist slogans about enhanced virility. Hah—fine, they would just treat it as enduring hardship for the sake of the organization.
While Asou Akiya immersed himself in investments, using the Port Mafia's funds to experiment with all kinds of novel industries, Randou wrapped himself in his coat and sat in the corner of a bar frequented by foreigners. His features were deep-set, and a scarf partially concealed his cold, pale face.
He was observing the foreigners who had settled into Yokohama.
At the same time, he discovered that many of them were morally corrupt, relying on extraterritorial privileges to act without restraint. Even his fellow Frenchmen, who spoke loftily and at length, were no better—repulsive and unbearable to endure. Every piece of information he gathered testified to Japan's defeat, to the way the various nations carved up their interests on Japanese soil, treating the so-called "peace" after the great war as nothing more than a transaction between states.
"Is this what the postwar era looks like?"
"When the law collapses, when crime never ceases, how can the war within people's hearts ever truly end?"
Randou asked himself again and again, a faint, almost inaudible lament rising from the depths of his heart.
Asou Akiya had once told him a story that truly happened, a story set on the battlefield. Because of internal strife and political maneuvering—or for the sake of so-called greater interests—the upper echelons of a nation abandoned their own soldiers, forcing them to bear the charge of "treason" in utter despair. Together with a battle-hardened commander, they fled. They were hunted down by their own people, scorned by the civilians they had once protected, and survived on borrowed time, lingering like ghosts.
To live was to refuse to betray the comrades who had already died.
The protagonist of that story was named André Gide—a French officer.