"Ring—ring—ring—"
Morning arrived to the sound of a bicycle charging forward like a sudden sprint, the young postman racing happily toward his destination.
The bell mounted on the bicycle chimed with a clear, pleasant tone.
It proclaimed the beginning of a new day.
No awkward struggles with human relationships, no nagging, troublesome adults—every morning, Edogawa Ranpo simply collected the neatly sorted letters, slipped them into his single-strap satchel, swung it over his shoulder, and his new job could begin just like that.
Unlike the mornings of the past, which had always made one drowsy and unwilling to open their eyes, the city streets today were filled with a cool sea breeze. The air was free of the stench of sweat from military barracks, free of dust mixed with mud. It was this freshness that made Edogawa Ranpo, for once, genuinely fond of Yokohama in daylight. His rural hometown had never been so brimming with vitality; here, those who rose early were mostly people who greeted life with an active, forward-looking spirit.
"Alright! First letter!"
Edogawa Ranpo had a terrible sense of direction, but he had memorized the map.
Relying purely on his brain to navigate, he took a shortcut and arrived at the address, slipping the letter into the mailbox. At the same time, he muttered words that would make the recipient shudder in fear: "A letter from a gambling addict of a son—probably asking his mother for money again. Letters like this are better off tossed straight into the trash. Do that next time you see one."
The second letter was an ordinary family letter. Edogawa Ranpo held it in his hand, pinched it thoughtfully, and chattered on to himself.
"Nice. That feeling of having parents."
The third letter, the fourth letter, and many more after that were delivered one by one into households throughout the neighborhood.
It was as though Edogawa Ranpo possessed a pair of see-through eyes—after a brief glance at a letter, he could more or less guess its contents. When he encountered families who opened their doors early in the morning, he would enthusiastically hand the mail directly to them, cheerfully announcing, "A letter from the son you're raising outside!"
In an instant, the male head of the household would turn deathly pale, snatch the letter, and slam the door shut with a loud bang.
"Why so nervous?" Edogawa Ranpo stood on tiptoe, peering toward the house as the sounds of arguing and shouting erupted inside. "Raising a son on the side is pretty normal, you know. That uncle over there has a son too—their father-son relationship seems quite good."
His parents had taught him what they believed to be a proper view of society: that marriage must not admit a third party, that friends should be treated with sincerity, that those who bully you should be avoided, that public property belongs to the state and to everyone, and that anyone who encroaches upon it is an enemy of the people. Yet they had forgotten one crucial thing—teaching their son about adults themselves.
No one knows which arrives first: happiness, or death.
"Super easy!"
By the time the morning had passed, Edogawa Ranpo patted his now-empty postman's satchel—today's workload had been completely taken care of.
The wages were paid daily, more than enough to buy him ten bowls of red bean mochi!
In Edogawa Ranpo's mind, nearly a hundred letters had already been sorted and categorized, their addresses carefully marked on a virtual map, outlining the most efficient delivery route possible. It could be said that he no longer needed to look twice at any address; riding his bicycle through streets and alleyways alike, everything was effortless. Aside from legs that felt a little sore and a backside that had gone numb from sitting too long, the rest was nothing to worry about.
"I really don't get what letters are even for. Wouldn't making a phone call be way more convenient?"
As usual, Edogawa Ranpo casually dissed his own job while pedaling toward a Japanese sweets shop that sold red bean mochi, happily stuffing his face with food.
"Sure enough, it's always the adults who don't dare to show their faces and don't dare to deal with people directly who love writing letters to pour out their feelings."
"So many junk letters—no one's going to read them anyway."
"Really want to just toss them all into the trash—"
Edogawa Ranpo quickly stuffed a piece of red bean mochi into his mouth, forcefully abandoning the dangerous idea of causing trouble on his very first day.
He pulled out the work regulations. Right—no mistakes allowed!
For several days in a row, Edogawa Ranpo deliberately avoided the hours when the sun was at its fiercest, finishing his deliveries at top speed. His efficiency earned him verbal praise from the Yokohama City Post Office. Edogawa Ranpo, who believed himself immune to flattery from adults, nearly doubled over laughing when he turned away, hands itching to plant themselves on his hips, looking exactly like a cat that had fallen into a cake and rolled around in it with delight.
"I can do it! I really can! Uncle, just you wait—you'll be buying me red bean mochi every single day!"
Through his time in Yokohama, he made a remarkable discovery: spending other people's money was the happiest thing of all.
Edogawa Ranpo rubbed his stomach. Last time, that uncle had been right again—when he was starving, he still couldn't manage to eat ten bowls after all. Instead, he had ended up wasting one precious bowl of red bean mochi he had earned with his own wages.
"That uncle is amazing."
Thinking of how he would soon have a new place to live, he felt an unusual fondness for the kind, gentle Asou Akiya, who had deliberately let him win. "Not as smart as Mom, but about the same as Dad."
In a blind spot of Edogawa Ranpo's vision, a calico cat padded along at an unhurried pace, eavesdropping as it walked.
Natsume Souseki was taken aback.
[The Port Mafia's "Analyst" and the Metropolitan Police's "Clairvoyant"—are they really on the same level?]
Having seen countless people and being able to read many of their traits at a glance, Natsume Souseki realized that this time he had misjudged someone. The reason was simple: Asou Akiya radiated an overwhelming air of domestic comfort—of a warm bed, a spouse, and children waiting at home. There was no dazzling brilliance, no diamond-like sharpness to be found at first sight.
Natsume Sosueki began to think over the information he had asked others to investigate.
Asou Akiya, male. His parents had died in an explosion caused by an ability user.
At sixteen, he dropped out of school and joined the Port Mafia through connections left behind by his parents. At seventeen, he became a translator fluent in four languages—Japanese, Chinese, English, and French—showing a certain talent for languages, though his aptitude for hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship was unremarkable. If nothing unexpected happened, he was presumed to spend his life as a clerical worker. At twenty-one, however, he suddenly rose through the ranks because of a "top-secret" Port Mafia incident, revealing his capabilities and becoming a talent valued by the Port Mafia boss. Over the past two years, he had been given targeted training.
Within the Port Mafia, opinions of Asou Akiya were neither particularly good nor particularly bad. He was highly approachable, yet he clocked out on time every day and rarely socialized with his colleagues. Rumors claimed he was a top-tier "analyst": minor bits of intelligence were beneath his notice, but whenever it came to international-level information, he could cut straight to the truth, distinguishing real from fake with surgical precision, and sniffing out the scent of blood and profit.
More than that, he excelled at analyzing international situations and financial shifts, possessing an exceptional grasp of the overall picture. When Yokohama was invaded by warlords from multiple countries, the Port Mafia managed to minimize its losses—and he had played a part in that outcome.
In this world, people with genuine deductive minds were rare, and deduction was inseparable from analysis.
If Edogawa Ranpo was a peerless genius who could perceive the subtle and infer the obvious—yet was unable to fully unleash his talent due to his youth—then Asou Akiya, who could restrain Ranpo and guide him, could not possibly be weak. He likely had deep research into human behavior and psychology, deliberately concealing his true abilities within the Port Mafia, and had firmly grasped Ranpo's weaknesses from their very first meeting.
A textbook seedling of a "mind manipulator."
Natsume Souseki felt a stir of temptation. To speak frankly, leaving someone like him in the Port Mafia was a waste. What the government lacked were "analysts" with a comprehensive view of the big picture—not "mind manipulators" who merely toyed with human hearts.
[Wait—Ranpo, what are you doing?!]
The calico cat lazily swayed its tail in the breeze, basking comfortably, when it suddenly realized that Ranpo was up to no good again.
It all started when Edogawa Ranpo passed by a household mailbox and abruptly stopped. With his usual lively curiosity, he leaned in to take a look and discovered, just as expected, that no one had bothered to collect the letters inside.
"I knew it—adults aren't stupid either. Sending junk mail just increases the burden of recycling trash. Nobody's happy about it."
So, out of the kindness of his heart, he took the letters out and tossed them into the trash.
Natsume Souseki went blank.
You could call him a troublesome brat, but this brat's motivation seemed perfectly wholesome—helping people clear out garbage… my foot.
That is absolutely not a reason for you to throw away other people's mail!
Under the calico cat's gaze—one reserved for watching an unfortunate child march toward disaster—Edogawa Ranpo ran off cheerfully.
The cat thought to itself, "I don't even need to step in. He's finished."
Edogawa Ranpo had read about the rules of workplace life and flipped through the employee handbook, yet his worldview was simply too "upright." A resounding, uncompromising sense of justice stood firmly in his heart, driving him to do many things that ordinary people could never understand.
Asou Akiya, meanwhile, enjoyed a stretch of days without cats outside—lavishing his exclusive affection on the single cat at home.
He had given Chuuya time off.
After finishing elementary school courses, one ought to have things like "summer and winter vacations," after all.
Having tasted the sweetness of using tools to his advantage, Asou Akiya regained the confidence of a workplace elite. He stopped complaining about the effectiveness of health supplements; after all, though the French beauty was undeniably enthusiastic, life was far more exciting when there was give and take.
However, Randou had absolutely no intention of surrendering so easily.
"Akiya, I'm not being a cat anymore!"
For several days in a row, Randou's waist went weak, and a certain part of his body ached with mortifying soreness, forcing him to develop an entirely new understanding of Japanese industrial culture.
—A gathering place for shameless perverts.
Since his lover had made a firm decision, Asou Akiya could only give up. He savored the memory of the French beauty, face flushed crimson, replaying it in his mind again and again, not even daring to keep a photograph, for fear that some hacker or ability-user might steal such "important data." Yes, he meant Tayama Katai!
That brat was probably around ten years old now—who knew whether he had already awakened an ability? If that guy could use an ability to manipulate electronic devices, then the security of anything digital was simply far too low!
"Tanaka, thank you for your hard work," Asou Akiya said. He no longer drove himself to work; a Port Mafia driver now handled it for him. The driver was a young man who ran errands efficiently and, more importantly, did not pry or ask unnecessary questions.
"It's no trouble at all, Mr. Asou," Tanaka replied with a grin that showed all eight of his teeth. "There are so many foreigners in Yokohama these days. I'm hoping to find a foreign girlfriend too—learn from you, Mr. Asou."
With a hint of wry reflection, Asou Akiya said, "You really shouldn't learn from me."
Tanaka immediately grew uneasy. "Did I say something wrong?"
Seated securely in the back seat, Asou Akiya kept a faint smile at his lips as he gazed out at the streets sliding past the car window.
"It's not something you can learn."
"Oh? Do you have some kind of special technique, Mr. Asou? Could you share a little?"
Tanaka would never ask outright about private matters, but among men, the conversation always circled back to the same few topics in the end.
The cluster of five buildings that marked the Port Mafia headquarters drew closer and closer.
Cold, modern structures rose in stark lines, like a gigantic beast that devoured gold, looming over the city as it gazed down upon everything beneath it.
"The only real technique is—" Asou Akiya rested his cheek against his palm, his tone unhurried and almost casual. "To work hard at becoming the kind of person the other party would like."
Tanaka was completely lost.
This was the most difficult step of all, and also the step that had taken Asou Akiya years of slow, painful transformation to complete.
Actually trying to learn from him?
As friendly advice—this was not coming from the scriptwriting department—don't play with fire.
Back at home, Randou finished his shower and lightly patted his cheeks with his palms. "I can't indulge myself like this. I need to regain my former abilities as a spy as soon as possible. That way, I can join the Port Mafia and help Akiya."
Once Randou had seen through the truth of his own "identity," an intense sense of urgency settled over him.
He couldn't afford to slack off.
Rather than waiting for some unknown danger to appear at an uncertain time, it was better to take the initiative, to train himself and recover the skills he had once lost.
In a sense, the thoughts of this pair of lovers aligned perfectly.
—Working hard was the right answer.
At the Yokohama City Post Office, Natsume Souseki had been convinced that Ranpo was finished for good. Yet when the complaint letter arrived, Edogawa Ranpo did not fly into a rage, did not leap up and loudly argue about how unreasonable the complaint was. Remembering Asou Akiya's guidance, his first reaction was to seek out his superior, put on a pitiful expression, and say, "I really didn't realize the matter was this serious. I only wanted to help them dispose of junk mail… please, give me one more chance."
Faced with the plea of those green, catlike eyes, Ranpo's superior hesitated.
"Ranpo-kun, if you can retrieve the letters and return them to the clients, then this matter can still be resolved…"
"I can!"
The quick-witted Edogawa Ranpo shot his hand into the air and answered without a shred of doubt.
In order to recover the letters he had thrown away, Ranpo launched into a full-scale brainstorming session, pushing his intellect to its absolute limits and squeezing every last drop of ingenuity out of his mind.
All of this unfolded under the keen, amused gaze of the calico cat.
Ranpo dashed off to every recycling center he could think of, then stormed through advertising and printing companies as well. To him, the most important thing was stabilizing his job; as for his own grievances, he could swallow them for now!
"I absolutely refuse to be unemployed!"
If he couldn't find the letters, then he would make substitutes—counterfeits so convincing they could pass for the real thing, just to placate the clients and get through this crisis.
In the process, Edogawa Ranpo learned an invaluable life lesson:
"Never try to argue head-on with drama-loving adults. Just do your own thing, achieve your goal first, and only then turn around and scold them for stirring up trouble out of sheer boredom!"
Still, trying to "recover" those letters without missing a single word was unbelievably difficult.
Cat tears streaming.jpg
...
Bungou Stray Dogs: If it suits my wishes, then everything is wonderful!
—Edogawa Ranpo.