Nakahara Chuuya was forced to sit through a full hour of ideological education.
The key points revolved around how fighting could never truly solve problems, how the mind was capable of accomplishing far more than brute force, and how one must learn to maintain emotional balance and view the world correctly. From there, the lecture branched off into discussions about the structure of society and the importance of moral cultivation, rambling on at length. Asou Akiya's worldview was a fusion of two worlds and two nations; many of his ideas refused to be neatly confined within the boundaries of good and evil. They were strikingly fresh, and compared to ordinary people, far closer to the mindset of ability users—individuals with a strong sense of self and a relentless pursuit of their ideal state.
For the young Arahabaki, however, it was simply too early.
Chuuya heard nothing that interested him. His initial obedient attentiveness quickly shifted into frustration, then slid into complete mental emptiness—his eyes unfocused, his gaze scattered. The entire progression happened so fast that he looked exactly like a dumbfounded little lamb. His brain stiffly memorized everything the other person said, storing it away word for word, only to truly savor and understand its meaning after he grew older.
The members of the Sheep organization chose to stand by and do nothing. Yawning, slinging their arms around each other's shoulders, they walked off, feeling that sitting in on this kind of lesson was even more unbearable than being sent to fight adults. Matters of personal cultivation were therefore handed over entirely to Chuuya.
When the "education" finally ended, Asou Akiya pressed a hand to his throbbing temples and realized that Chuuya looked utterly lost—so lost that he was even trembling slightly.
"Chuuya, I'm not trying to force you to stop using your ability," he said.
Asou Akiya sat down on a crude stool and pulled the orange-haired boy to his side without hesitation. He took two candies out of his pocket and placed them in front of Chuuya, doing his best to shed the authoritative aura of a teacher lecturing a student.
"Look. There are two candies here. Most people would eat one themselves and give the other to a friend. Children from Suribachi City, on the other hand, would usually stuff both into their own pockets. In places where resources are scarce, survival is the first priority, and spiritual cultivation naturally becomes less important. But you are different. Your goal should be to become one of those who are truly exceptional."
Chuuya grew tense. Another impromptu test. After a moment of hesitation, he answered, "Then… I won't eat either of them?"
Asou Akiya shook his head. Instead, he took out all the candy in his pocket and laid it on the table. Fruit hard candies wrapped in brightly colored paper spilled out, and the air filled with a sweet-and-sour fragrance.
"What I hope," Asou Akiya said softly, "is that one day you'll have eaten so much of this cheap candy that you grow sick of it. You'll be able to buy more candy—not necessarily high-end or exquisite—and when you share it with others, you'll be able to smile knowingly from the heart."
"Your spirit should be as strong and powerful as your strength. It should give those you protect a sense of safety—standing beyond society, yet still grounded in it, not becoming a solitary figure whom no one can understand."
In the absence of any onlookers, Asou Akiya gently worked to build Chuuya's way of thinking.
The Sheep would not become a burden to Chuuya—for now.
"Chuuya," he said, "setting power aside, in my eyes, you are a good child."
"Mr. Asou…"
Nakahara Chuuya flushed bright red at the praise, his face burning as he clumsily pinched the edge of his sleeve, fingers fidgeting with nowhere to go.
He had gotten into fights outside—Mr. Asou didn't know about that. Of course, Chuuya had no intention of exposing himself, either.
"I once knew a child very much like you," Asou Akiya said, stopping deliberately before going too far, sparing Chuuya from having his ears tortured by adult logic. His tone shifted, easing into gentle guidance instead. "A child who was also considered an outsider by society. Do you want to know how his parents educated him?"
Chuuya's ears practically perked up. An outsider to society, just like him?
Asou Akiya continued, "They told him this: 'you are ordinary. You are not special. You are merely one of the countless people in this world. On what grounds do you believe that what you know, what you possess, what you have mastered, is something others cannot know, possess, or master?'"
Placed in the present context, that "you" made Chuuya feel as though he himself were being addressed. His face grew shy with embarrassment, yet his curiosity about the other child's future quietly took root. What kind of person would someone like that eventually become?
Asou Akiya used Ranpo as an example not to comfort Chuuya, but to break down the invisible wall separating him from society.
"He believed himself to be an ordinary person, living in an ordinary world. Influenced by those around him, he never developed even the slightest sense of superiority over others. Through his parents' words and actions, he learned what was good and what was evil, learned how to distinguish right from wrong. He would stand up for those treated unfairly, confront evildoers for the sake of the kindhearted. He would not fear authority, nor cower before oppression. He would earn the respect of countless people and grow into a good man—just like his parents."
"He," Asou Akiya said softly, "is a brilliant star that is about to rise in this world."
Chuuya listened, utterly absorbed. When he noticed Mr. Asou was about to stop speaking, he hurriedly asked, "Who is this person?"
Asou Akiya smiled slyly. "His name is confidential for now. You'll find out someday."
Edogawa Ranpo.
The nemesis of countless criminals.
The greatest pillar supporting Yokohama's concept of "justice."
And also… the intellectual who would dare challenge Chuuya one-on-one.
"Before that, he will suffer greatly. Without going through hardship, one cannot truly empathize; without holding expectations for this world, one will never attempt to understand it deeply…" Asou Akiya gazed steadily at Chuuya. "Chuuya, go and experience it. Do not rely too easily on your heaven-given power. Use your own eyes to clearly see both the light and the darkness of this world… and in the end…"
His hand gently covered the boy's bright blue eyes.
"Choose the direction that makes your blood surge and your heart burn the most."
Nakahara Chuuya saw darkness the moment the light was blocked—and yet, between the gaps of Asou Akiya's fingers, he also saw faint glimmers of light.
In that single second, it felt as though he finally saw through to the deepest desire in his heart.
Compared to the pitch-black, sealed space he had known before, human society was unimaginably complex; beyond its chaotic rules, there was still light to be found.
He liked that light—the light that symbolized freedom.
"Okay."
I promise you, Mr. Asou. From now on, I won't so easily rely on the power of my fists.
Nakahara Chuuya thought this simply and childishly in his heart.
[I want to be a human being…]
At the coastal defense garrison of Yokohama City, Edogawa Ranpo, who was doing compulsory labor, suddenly sneezed several times in a row. He remembered what his mother once told him—that when someone was speaking ill of you, you would feel it. Planting his hands on his hips, dusty and disheveled, he stood up and complained, "Is someone talking behind my back? Or is there some bad guy hiding in here, trying to make me sneeze until I catch a cold?"
He swept his gaze around the area, emerald-green eyes sharply scanning each person one by one.
A few seconds later—
Edogawa Ranpo childishly pointed straight ahead and declared, "Found you!"
The camp commander who had been rudely pointed at froze mid-step, cursing inwardly that this newly arrived brat was clearly insane.
The commander continued inspecting the camp, looking imposing and dignified, his expression righteous and upright, giving no hint of corruption whatsoever. And yet everything about him—right down to what kind of underwear he was wearing that day—was completely exposed under Edogawa Ranpo's gaze.
It just so happened that Edogawa Ranpo had grown utterly sick of the monotonous drills and exhausting physical labor.
The black-haired boy, ostracized at every turn, went looking for happiness whenever he felt unhappy. His values were, by his own standards, quite "upright," and he fully intended to share what he had seen with others, letting the adults step in and deal with the parasites gnawing away at the military camp from the inside.
So he began spreading the word—openly and without restraint—about how the camp commander was siphoning off state benefits and diverting public military property for his own private use.
The camp commander: "..."
Disaster had fallen from the sky.
The consequence of being so proactive and enthusiastic about stirring up trouble was that Edogawa Ranpo, who had joined the camp less than ten days ago, was promptly thrown into solitary confinement.
When he was finally released, starving and weak, he was mercilessly expelled from the camp.
"Tch!"
Thus ended his very first attempt at earning a living on his own—dead on arrival.
On the route home after visiting the Port Mafia, Asou Akiya encountered Ranpo exactly where one would expect.
The other party had already changed outfits again, now dressed as a scrawny little soldier fresh out of the camp.
[R card.]
Asou Akiya silently rated his rarity. If Ranpo had chosen the right path, a "Soldier Ranpo" might very well have been born.
Reality, however, was that Ranpo had managed to get himself kicked out instead.
"Uncle! I held out for nine whole days—now I'm unemployed and here to find you, Uncle!" The black-haired boy bounced right up in front of him, brimming with energy, calling out "Uncle, Uncle" over and over again until it was enough to make anyone roll their eyes.
Asou Akiya smiled without the slightest stinginess and said warmly, "Well done."
In the original course of events, Ranpo exposed the camp commander's private misconduct; even if it hadn't been this particular commander, he would surely have gone on to accomplish other acts of exposure just the same.
A faint mist of moisture surfaced in the black-haired boy's green eyes, then vanished in an instant. Pretending not to care, he spoke in a casual tone.
"Uncle, I did a good thing. So why didn't anyone stand up and speak for me?"
"Because you were missing one step."
"Huh?!"
Edogawa Ranpo jumped in place.
Asou Akiya proceeded to teach him the darker pragmatics of dealing with people. "You should have passed what he did to someone whose rank was just a little higher or a little lower than his—and who already disliked him. When that happens, someone will naturally step forward to speak on your behalf."
This was the very definition of armchair tactics: one dared to complain, and the other dared to advise.
Edogawa Ranpo seemed to half-understand. "I see."
Then excitement lit up his face, as though he had finally grasped the crucial clue after failing a game level. "Is this the game the adults in the camp are playing? Seeing through each other, clashing head-on? People of equal rank can't move against one another, subordinates can't openly accuse their superiors, and superiors can't get caught holding evidence against them. I was expelled because I didn't follow the rules, right?"
Asou Akiya listened to him with a smiling, indulgent expression, then took him to a well-reviewed Japanese restaurant.
"Half an hour," he said. "I'll give you half an hour to eat."
So—no rambling.
Surrounded by tempura, sukiyaki, sashimi, and desserts, Edogawa Ranpo's cooperativeness skyrocketed. His ears finally became receptive to reasonable conversation. Eating as he spoke, he said, "The way Uncle is in such a rush to go home and see his boyfriend—it's just like my dad going to see my mom. Every time he works overtime, he gets frantic and rushes back all dusty and worn, and Mom will be waiting for him in the living room, keeping the lights on all night…"
As he reached that point, a flicker of sorrow passed through Edogawa Ranpo's eyes.
Yet that rare moment of pessimism vanished almost immediately. He stared in shock at Asou Akiya, who had calmly picked up a slice of sashimi. "Uncle, why don't you have any reaction at all? Those were the words of a thirteen-year-old boy whose parents are both dead—you should at least, at least, have some kind of special emotion bursting out of your heart! Even if it's not like a fountain erupting into the sky, it should at least be like a faucet turned fully on!"
"Mm, I do," Asou Akiya replied, his tone turning exceptionally gentle, as though he were looking at the most ideal subject for parental education.
A certain table-slamming boy simultaneously embodied both a positive example and a cautionary tale—truly a classic specimen.
"At this very moment," Asou Akiya continued, "I'm helping you think about your next job."
"Oh…"
Edogawa Ranpo's gaze drifted aimlessly as he gnawed on his favorite red bean mochi.
Unable to hold back what was on his mind, he blurted out, "Uncle, is there any way to support yourself without working?"
Asou Akiya set his chopsticks down and answered, "There is."
Edogawa Ranpo's face lit up with desperate longing—he had had more than enough of swallowing grievances in the military camp.
Asou Akiya said calmly, "All you have to do is walk up to the richest woman you see on the street, one who's over thirty, and say, 'Big sister, I don't want to work anymore. I don't have a home to go back to.' You'll immediately receive the appropriate return."
Edogawa Ranpo was struck dumb, his mouth hanging open as the red bean paste fell straight out.
Asou Akiya took a wet tissue and wiped the mess from Ranpo's small face, brushing his bangs back and admiring the result for a full three seconds.
"If you're not smart," he sighed, "how do you still manage to dream so beautifully?"
Wasn't that just stupid?
Didn't you see that I also want to live off someone else—yet I'm working hard to make Rimbaud live off me instead?
...
"The Phantom Lord": Only those who can endure the countless forms of oppression in the adult world while still clinging to their dreams can become great inventors, small inventors, great artists, small artists—or beggars.
—Edogawa Ranpo