Recently, someone in the underground markets had posted an anonymous bounty to capture "individuals of unknown identity."
Those people were, in truth, ability users.
The Port Mafia—masters of this city's shadowed side, a presence as all-encompassing as the night itself—caught the scent of something ominous. After filtering out the noise and false leads, the intelligence was relayed twice through internal channels before finally landing in the hands of Asou Akiya.
Akiya immediately recalled the incident in which he himself had been kidnapped not long ago, and a sudden clarity dawned on him: someone was trying to probe the Port Mafia's ability users. He did not possess Edogawa Ranpo's near-miraculous talent for seeing through the truth at a glance, but he was hardly a dull-witted fool either. Those country bumpkins gained no real benefit from abducting him—after all, the greatest value of a clerical staff member lay in one thing alone: information.
At the same time, the organization that had orchestrated that crude, second-rate kidnapping had never intended to truly offend the Port Mafia. After a brief test to confirm just how tightly guarded the intelligence was, they allowed him to live. Put in cold, objective terms, the reason he had been rescued safely was not because he was important, but because of a balance-of-power game between the Port Mafia and the force backing the kidnappers. They had spared him on a whim.
He curled his fingers and tapped them lightly against the solid wooden tabletop. Its polished surface reflected the displeasure in his eyes.
Who would feel happy about this?
More humiliating than being a pawn at someone else's mercy was this—
You are not even worth killing. Just expendable cannon fodder.
"This kind of luck can't happen a second time. I don't have an ability, which makes me both safe and extremely dangerous. They won't deliberately target me; at most, when the typhoon comes, I'll be caught at the edge and dragged in along with everything else."
Asou Akiya let out a sardonic smile, his gaze locking onto the codename of the anonymous bounty issuer.
[V.]
That wretched organization did not seem to have been wiped out in the original story. Its influence had taken root in Japan, a classic ability-user group that lurked beneath the darkness, never daring to step into the light. They clung to a so-called righteous cause and lofty ideals that, in Akiya's eyes, were no different from sheer idiocy—eliminate the parasites corroding the nation and expel ability users from the country.
No… perhaps they were colluding with figures inside the Japanese government itself. A set of goals riddled with contradictions.
The word "expel" was, after all, a very delicate one.
Kill them, imprison them, traffic them, subject them to illegal experiments, force them into complicity—so long as an ability user no longer appeared in everyday society, their identity erased and their actions restrained, could that not also be called "expulsion"?
He set the intelligence file down and fell into thought. "If this were used properly… using V's name to set traps for ability users…"
For example, the enemies he had within the Port Mafia.
Ever since he had crossed paths with Ranpo, the overwhelming advantage of an information gap had become dangerously intoxicating to Asou Akiya. If not for the lover named Randou, whose presence in his heart steadied those restless impulses, he might already have done something whose cost far outweighed the gains.
Akiya pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Not worth it, not worth it. First, an ability user might not even die—they could just as easily join V instead. Second, if I use V's name to issue bounties, V can just as easily turn around and hunt down me, the impersonator. My greatest advantage is the information gap; my greatest weakness is that I lack the ability to control the endgame of any scheme. No one is teaching me, and I can't afford the consequences of failure."
A mind-controller as a profession truly needed a master to guide them through the door.
In the original story, V's principle had been to keep their own hands clean, using outsiders to do their dirty work. Their people had even captured Edogawa Ranpo once, only for him to be rescued in the end by Fukuzawa Yukichi working together with Oda Sakunosuke.
That incident had also implicated Natsume Sōseki.
"Even Oda Sakunosuke, a gold-medal assassin, doesn't want to provoke these so-called champions of justice. I'd better pass—this feels like a fast track to an early grave."
"I've waited this long already."
"I'm not lacking… a few more years in the future…"
In the end, one could only take on tasks proportionate to one's ability. In this lifetime, he had carried out only one truly reckless operation—its uncertainty immense, its chance of failure just as high—but if it succeeded…
A warm kang bed, a loving spouse, children at his side.
The black-haired young man within the Port Mafia, who was gradually earning the title of "analyst," cupped his face in his hands and let his thoughts wander.
His wife was amazing. His son was adorable.
As for the cat… ah, that had been a chance encounter on the road—definitely not part of the original plan.
Inside the Port Mafia boss's office, after hearing his subordinate's report, the boss asked, "After Akiya-kun finished reading the intelligence, there was no reaction at all, and he simply continued working in the assistant's office under Executive Nishida?"
The watcher responsible for acting as the boss's "eyes" lowered his head. He did not think much of this so-called "analyst"; anyone even slightly perceptive should have been able to see the danger hidden in that intelligence and immediately run to the boss to claim credit. He answered cautiously, "Yes. There were no anomalies in the computer surveillance either. He didn't look up any related information. It seems he didn't take it to heart."
The Port Mafia boss spoke in a hoarse voice, "That is precisely where his cleverness lies."
Those hawk-like eyes pinned the watcher in place, sending a chill through his entire body.
"You think he couldn't see it?" the boss continued. "No. Someone like Akiya-kun only ever sees more, never less. I don't believe for a second that he couldn't guess the truth behind his own kidnapping. The reason he didn't investigate is not because he couldn't—it's because he sensed, through his own ability alone, just how deep the waters behind V truly are. He doesn't want to invite trouble… and he doesn't want to provoke my suspicion either."
The boss understood ordinary ways of thinking all too clearly. With an organization dedicated to purging ability users, anyone seeking profit would not hesitate to exploit it. But once that happened, if any ability user within the Port Mafia were to be harmed, the first people the boss would suspect would be those insiders who knew about V.
Whether Asou Akiya had actually hired killers or not, the mere fact that he possessed both motive and capability would make him a suspect.
Silence, inaction, and restraint were themselves a declaration of loyalty.
By estimating Asou Akiya's abilities so highly, the Port Mafia boss had indirectly elevated him to the level of a "scriptwriter," someone who could see the truth behind events—an outcome that even Akiya himself had never anticipated.
…
In the end, he was someone who had once harbored thoughts of killing.
Asou Akiya, during his activities at headquarters, frequently crossed paths with ability users within the organization.
They did not belong to the same social circles. Akiya understood this clearly without ever having shared a drink with Hirotsu Ryūrō: he was not part of the Black Lizard, nor was he an ability user. The reason those combat-oriented Black Lizard members were willing to show him courtesy was entirely because of the Port Mafia boss. After all, Akiya had been careful to cultivate his own reputation, keeping excessive stains from clinging to his name.
Without a bad reputation, there was no awe-inspiring authority—but Akiya did not care. The people who paid his salary were the executives and the boss, not the rank-and-file members. All he needed was competent bodyguards and the freedom to use his brain to its fullest.
By chance, he ran into members of the Black Lizard's upper ranks once again. The ability user named Kimura Semei was walking beside Hirotsu Ryuurou, gesturing with both hands as though chatting and laughing with ease.
Both men were squad leaders, ten-man captains, but Hirotsu Ryuurou's seniority ran far deeper, enough for him to be addressed as a true elder.
Asou Akiya swept his gaze over them in a flash. Without offering a greeting, he passed them by, unwilling to put on a false performance of harmonious camaraderie among colleagues, even if it made him seem discourteous. Hirotsu Ryuurou's eyelid twitched. Seasoned by long experience, he sensed a trace of concealed killing intent: Asou Akiya had not forgotten his enemy.
Kimura Semei, however, noticed nothing at all. He rubbed his nose and said with a gossiping grin, "So that's the organization's 'analyst'? He looks pretty young. Does he really have the ability to earn that much money for the organization?"
Hirotsu Ryūrō brushed it off. "Akiya-kun isn't from the combat division. There's no need to pay him much attention."
Exactly.
You'd better not pay Asou Akiya any attention.
Every ability user who joined the Mafia carried some kind of criminal past and was no longer bound by surface-level laws. The government deliberately loosened its policies toward them, allowing its own ability users a certain space to survive.
Leaving others aside, Kimura Semei himself could no longer remember how many people he had killed. In any case, his reason for joining the Port Mafia was simple: to latch onto a reliable power and wipe away past grudges in one stroke. Anyone who killed him would be declaring war on the Port Mafia. Even if he had enemies within the organization, they were not worth losing sleep over.
Those who could kill him would be ability users—those he would stay wary of. Those who could not were weaklings and not worth a second thought.
Such was the carefree confidence of an ability user who possessed the power of "Explosion."
…
In Suribachi Street, Nakahara Chūya wrote furiously, racing to finish his homework before Asou Akiya arrived.
Three math worksheets, five essays, ten questions on general social knowledge… When he finally completed them, he let out a long breath of relief and slumped over the makeshift desk made of wooden crates. Around him, his companions' teasing and commentary rose in a chorus:
"Chuuya actually finished."
"Damn it, I bet he'd played around for days and wouldn't get it done."
"That speed just now was insane, Chuuya, your hands were glowing red and all the stationery started floating—hahaha!"
The laughter and chatter of boys and girls wove together, filling the air with an overwhelming sense of liveliness.
When Asou Akiya stepped into the territory of the Sheep, what greeted him was precisely such a harmonious scene: a group of children laughing together, while the slightly older youths sat off to one side, watching the orange-haired boy with gentle, protective eyes.
After conducting the usual homework check and reinforcing several key points from the textbooks, Asou Akiya relied on the cramming-style education of Huaxia, barely managing to complete an elementary-school curriculum appropriate for Nakahara Chuuya's age.
While he was explaining incorrect word usage in an essay, he suddenly lowered his voice and spoke without warning.
"Chuuya, for the time being, don't use your ability. Be careful of outsiders."
"Asou-san?"
"It seems that outside… there are people who are hunting down those like you."
Asou Akiya spoke vaguely, passing the warning on to Chuuya without going into detail, unwilling for him to run into those lurking behind V.
Nakahara Chūya's talent for grasping the "key point" was just as skewed as Randou's. He sprang to his feet in excitement. "There are people like me outside?!"
Asou Akiya: "..."
Asou Akiya smiled gently. "Pretend I didn't say anything."
Honestly—others might be ability users, but you were a straight-up bug in the system. You weren't even on the same playing field.
The kid was just too powerful.
As a father, it really killed his sense of accomplishment.
"Chuuya, I've finished reading your last essay. The topic I assigned was 'How to Become a Cultured Person,' so why did you write about defeating everyone and reading all the books, and then declaring that makes you the most cultured person of all?"
Was there something fundamentally wrong with the results of this education???
A refined… thug?
You're only nine years old!