Edogawa Ranpo completed the task in a state of utter exhaustion, his nerves stretched to the breaking point.
Fortunately, the number of letters he had thrown away was not large.
And even more fortunately, he retained a clear impression of every single letter he had discarded, never deleting those "unnecessary" memories from his mind.
When his superior saw the black-haired boy again in the office, the sight was almost shocking. Ranpo's skin was slick with sweat, his body carrying a stench like someone who had just crawled out of a garbage heap. Even in such a sorry state, he was still wearing the wrinkled postal uniform, and the cap on his head could not conceal those vivid emerald-green eyes, blazing with confidence like the midday sun.
This was a truly unusual kid—a boy whose "difference" became more apparent the deeper one came to know him.
His superior thought of the recent string of incidents involving Ranpo and felt his stomach ache for a brief second.
Losing letters was the gravest offense of all.
This brat couldn't keep his mouth shut, loved talking nonsense everywhere, and would spread half-heard bits of gossip from who-knows-where until they boiled over into rumors.
"This time, I'll let it slide."
The relaxed clerk put down the morning paper in his hands and spoke calmly. "But if you make another mistake, no matter how much I might want to shield you, you'll have to leave the Yokohama City Post Office."
"I'm off to deliver the mail!"
Edogawa Ranpo let the words go in one ear and out the other; once he got his answer, he bounced right out of the office.
Utterly disrespectful.
Shamelessly so… and yet somehow, just a little bit cute.
His superior rolled his eyes. If it weren't for the fact that the kid was easy on the eyes, he would have already exploded in a furious scolding—had it been anyone else… hah.
—
Yokohama's villa district.
At her residence, Catherine stood on the balcony, stretching her body. Unlike those exhausted salarymen, she was practicing yoga, supported by family wealth that allowed her to live exactly as she pleased. It sounded somewhat foolish, but at twenty-six years old, Catherine possessed no special powers whatsoever—yet she firmly believed that she had a latent supernatural ability, one that simply had not awakened yet.
She often wandered into dangerous places, deliberately seeking out situations that might stimulate and provoke that awakening.
An intuition without origin—yet one she believed in with absolute conviction.
Over the years, she had gathered all kinds of information on ability awakenings, watching with envy as some people leapt in a single bound into the ranks of heaven's favored children. Even being mocked by genuine ability users was a price she was willing to pay.
But the more she read, the more a quiet bitterness rose in her heart, because the traits of ability users were strikingly clear, unmistakably different from ordinary people.
—There was not a single one who was truly, thoroughly ordinary.
Whether it was faith, ideals, or sheer force of will and intellect, it was as though God had bestowed every glimmer of brilliance upon ability users, leaving only a thin, diluted light for ordinary people—so thin that among ten thousand, there might not be even one true genius. Fortunately, ability users, as God's darlings, rarely bothered to exhaust themselves chasing power and authority; otherwise, the upper tiers of society's pyramid would long ago have been monopolized by them.
"Is that the postman outside?"
Catherine inhaled the morning air and lazily glanced outward.
Then her gaze sharpened. With her excellent eyesight, she clearly saw a teenage postman riding a bicycle up to the gate. His black hair stuck out messily from beneath his cap as he lowered his head, rummaging through his bag for letters, preparing to slip them into the mailbox.
A scream went off inside Catherine's heart, a sense of destiny unlike anything she had ever felt before.
It's him!
It's that adorable little one who asked to be kept!
Cupid's golden arrow had pierced her heart, letting her encounter a cat-like little boy in Japan! Sure, he was young—only thirteen—but what was wrong with cultivating affection over a few years between an older sister and a younger brother?
Catherine did not hesitate any longer. She dialed the butler's number and said decisively, "Have someone send me a letter."
Though You and I had no fate to begin with—
But everything relies on your big sister here having money!
Edogawa Ranpo lifted his head slightly, squinting as the sunlight pricked his eyes, and cast a glance over the style of the villa.
"A Frenchman's residence, huh."
That uncle's boyfriend was French, after all—though what kind of personality he had was anyone's guess.
"Hehe."
Edogawa Ranpo rummaged out the next letter, and when he saw the address—Suribachi City—he wasn't surprised at all. Instead, he spoke with evident satisfaction.
"Totally worth it, snatching this one out of so many letters."
In truth, mail bound for Suribachi City was the kind no one wanted to deliver.
That place was chaotic and impoverished, a gathering ground for the homeless. It ranked second only to the more infamous slum on the other side of Yokohama, and as a result, ordinary citizens of the city believed that decent families' children should stay far away from Suribachi City.
"Suribachi City"
Edogawa Ranpo swung himself onto his bicycle, excitement bubbling up as he set off, eager to go meet that uncle's son who was being kept outside the household.
Suribachi City had been rebuilt atop the old site of Yokohama's foreign settlement. The maps had yet to be updated and still retained the old addresses. It was the largest "scar" on Yokohama's body. Seen from a helicopter, Suribachi City resembled a funnel-shaped, charred pit leading straight to hell—a massive, nearly circular crater that left first-time viewers shaken to the core.
Edogawa Ranpo was no exception.
His eyes widened, perfectly embodying the shock and novelty of a country boy entering the city for the first time. Yet what occupied his mind was something no one else could ever reach. Using images of the former site and geographical data, he reconstructed the original appearance of Suribachi City before its destruction, while countless human lives surged through his thoughts as rapidly multiplying figures.
At the moment of its creation—how many people had died, how many buildings had been obliterated?
Such overwhelming power was terrifyingly violent.
A beat later, Edogawa Ranpo finally let out his astonished cry.
"Wow!"
The casualties rivaled those of a full-scale war!
The longer he looked, the more dazed he became. He scratched at his black hair, muttering in confusion, "Was this caused by some secret weapon developed by the government or something? An instantaneous burst of force that wiped out everything around it… Adults really do play dangerous games, don't they?"
Wasn't there a saying like this—that we were not defeated by other countries, but instead slaughtered our own people?
Edogawa Ranpo arrived at an understanding.
His bicycle couldn't be ridden any farther in, so he parked it beside Suribachi City, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped carefully down the uneven, pockmarked stairs that led inside.
Not long after Edogawa Ranpo disappeared from sight, the bicycle met its fate—it was stolen by the orphans of Suribachi City.
Children had children's advantages; they didn't need to compete with adults in shamelessness.
"This is ours!"
"Get lost, don't steal our stuff!"
"Hurry up and move it—we can sell it for a good price. Nobody in Suribachi City rides bicycles anyway."
"The lock's a bit troublesome…"
After a round of clanging and banging as the lock was smashed open, several orphans dragged the bicycle away.
Edogawa Ranpo's feet touched the ground of Suribachi City with a hint of caution, as if he feared that imaginary black flames might scorch the soles of his shoes, or as if he were afraid of stepping on the people who had died here.
The distance his gaze could reach stretched back into the past from two years ago, and toward the people living here, he felt a faint but undeniable curiosity.
Elsewhere, nine-year-old Nakahara Chuuya leapt over layers of obstacles, weaving through the narrow passages between the makeshift buildings of Suribachi City. The boy was like a flickering orange flame in motion—overflowing with vitality, blessed with exceptional physical talent. Rooftops that adults struggled to climb were cleared in a single bound by him, hands and feet working together as he moved with agile grace, so nimble that the children chasing after him could only stare in envy.
"Chuuya's way too fast."
"Huff—can't catch him, I give up! Looks like we're treating Chuuya to a meal now!"
"Hey, who was the one who suggested this race in the first place?!"
"Hahaha!"
A group of children around ten years old shoved and tussled with one another as they laughed. Their lives were poor, yet their clothes were washed so clean they had faded to white.
The incident happened without warning. When Nakahara Chuuya was suddenly blocked by a black-haired boy who darted out in front of him, he was startled and nearly crashed straight into him. Of course, he wasn't afraid of hurting himself—his instinctive worry was that he might hurt someone else.
He staggered back a step, steadying his body, and looked at the newcomer with lingering alarm.
"Are you okay?"
At this point in time, Nakahara Chuuya was not yet the future "King of the Sheep." At best, he was merely a small lamb who knew how to protect himself.
No—calling him a lamb was still giving him too much credit.
A kitten suited him better.
Panting as he ran down the stairs, Edogawa Ranpo arrived just in time before Nakahara Chuuya could leave, his face breaking into a radiant smile.
"I'm delivering a letter. Could you take me to the address written on it?"
Nakahara Chuuya slipped both hands into his trouser pockets, utterly bewildered.
"But we don't have house numbers around here. The buildings are packed layer upon layer—inside three circles, outside three more. Who would even send a letter to a place like this?"
The address on the envelope read: Japan, Yokohama City, Suribachi City— the tenth house to the left of a certain grocery store.
Edogawa Ranpo's deliberate bit of "bumping into trouble" paid off splendidly. Beaming with satisfaction, he said cheerfully, "It's a work-related letter sent from the Tokyo area."
Work from outside Suribachi City meant opportunity—meant the possibility of leaving this barren, exhausted land behind.
Nakahara Chuuya broke into a smile. His blue eyes turned round and bright, and a healthy flush spread across his baby-fat cheeks.
"Then that sounds like a good thing."
Meeting for the first time, the two little "cats" formed a favorable impression of one another.
After delivering the letter, Edogawa Ranpo naturally had no intention of leaving right away. He took the initiative to fish out a piece of candy from his pocket, hesitating for just a moment before painfully parting with it.
"I'll treat you to some candy if you show me around Suribachi City," he said lightly. "I'm really curious about this place!"
His emerald-green eyes sparkled as he looked at Nakahara Chuuya, as though Chuuya himself were the most fascinating "thing" here.
For no clear reason, Nakahara Chuuya felt a faint chill creep across his skin.
He pinched the fabric of his trousers between his fingers, turned his head aside, and refused the offered favor.
"No need for candy. If you're a mail carrier, you'll probably be coming back to deliver letters in the future anyway. Showing you around once won't take much time."
Under the guidance of Asou Akiya, Nakahara Chuuya had learned not to fall easily for temptation. He followed his own heart, held to proper values, and kept his footing steady.
Edogawa Ranpo peeled open the candy wrapper and popped it into his own mouth, then stuffed another piece into Nakahara Chuuya's hand when the younger boy failed to resist him. At thirteen, Ranpo stood a good head taller than the nine-year-old Chuuya, giving him the appearance of a dependable big brother.
A few minutes later, that dignified image shattered completely.
Edogawa Ranpo could no longer walk. He kept crying out about how tired he was, plopped down on the ground, and declared with absolute seriousness, "I need a break!"
Nakahara Chuuya looked at him helplessly. He had the least resistance against people who acted overly familiar. Squatting down beside him, he asked, half exasperated, "Your stamina is really terrible. Do people outside start working at such a young age too?"
Edogawa Ranpo answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, without the slightest hesitation:
"I have to support myself, you know."
Nakahara Chuuya nodded in agreement.
Then Edogawa Ranpo added cheerfully, without the slightest sense of contradiction, "And after that, I'll have other people support me. I hate doing this kind of boring work the most."
Nakahara Chuuya: "..."
Edogawa Ranpo rummaged through his single-strap bag and pulled out a bottle of ramune that was already more than half empty. He tipped it up and gulped it down in one go, the liquid disappearing with a series of enthusiastic glugs. Afterward, he shook the bottle lightly; the glass marble inside clinked crisply against the walls. He stared at Chuuya with open, unabashed longing.
"I want the marble inside."
Nakahara Chuuya took the bottle without comment. With a twist of his wrist and a controlled application of strength, the mouth of the glass bottle cracked cleanly.
The pale blue marble rolled out and landed neatly in his palm.
"This color is really pretty," Edogawa Ranpo said. He took it from Chuuya and, in a thoroughly childish gesture, held it up in front of his eye, squinting as he peered through it toward the outside world.
For a moment, Nakahara Chuuya had the absurd illusion that the boy in front of him was younger than himself—at least younger in terms of mental age.
What the hell?!
He himself had only existed for two years!
"You should head back the way you came," Nakahara Chuuya said at last, clearly unwilling to indulge him any further. "If you get lost next time, just ask someone in Suribachi City. Their tempers aren't very good, but they probably won't bully an underage kid delivering mail."
"Orange little kitten," Edogawa Ranpo suddenly called out.
Nakahara Chuuya froze.
"You don't want to leave Suribachi City," Ranpo continued lightly, smiling as if he were merely making idle conversation, "because you're looking for the truth about your own origins, aren't you?"
Nakahara Chuuya stiffened, then spun back around in a flash, his voice sharp and urgent.
"What do you know?!"
Edogawa Ranpo smiled, eyes curved into pleased crescents.
"When you run into a problem, why not go ask that old man?" he said casually. "That uncle knows an awful lot of things."
In his own mind, he had already neatly repaired the strained relationship between father and son, resolved the uncle's hesitant, half-spoken inner conflicts, and felt thoroughly satisfied with himself.
The black-haired, green-eyed boy then added one more line, nosy in an endearing way.
"That uncle is your current father, you know."
More reliable than blood ties, more profound than the truth of one's origins—
in this world, he was the only man who would shield you from the wind and rain without hesitation!