Exactly noon, 12:00 p.m.
At the Port Mafia headquarters, Asou Akiya lifted his wrist and glanced at the time on his watch.
"Okay, lunch break countdown."
Spread across his desk were all kinds of materials related to financial investments. An aging desktop computer glowed quietly, its screen filled with stock charts that rose and fell like the jagged lines of an electrocardiogram. In a sense, these really were the "EKGs" of stock traders—one careless move was enough to give you a myocardial infarction and kill you on the spot.
Setting work aside for the moment, Asou Akiya pushed open the door and headed for the cafeteria, planning to eat while fiddling with his phone.
Nominally, he belonged under Executive Nishida, but the results of his work involved massive flows of capital and could easily expose sensitive internal intelligence of the Port Mafia. Because of that, he had always reported directly to the Boss. In practice, he was a direct subordinate of the Boss, merely attached to Nishida's faction in name. As a result, Nishida—one of the five major executives—neither grew close to him nor fully trusted him, and even suspected that Asou Akiya might be the Boss's watchdog planted at his side.
Asou Akiya offered no explanation for this.
Choosing sides was important. As a consummate fence-sitter, his creed was simple: whoever sat in the Boss's chair, that was the side he stood on.
"Yo, isn't that Asou-kun? Playing on your phone again?"
Hearing the voice, Asou Akiya immediately stood up. Anyone who could greet him directly and with that sort of casual tone—no matter what—was definitely someone of higher status than him.
Sure enough, he saw another executive of the Port Mafia: Executive Ousa. The man had a formidable reputation within the organization, and his personality was deeply beloved by his subordinates. If one had to draw a comparison, he resembled the later-version Executive Nakahara Chūya. Ousa's demeanor was remarkably approachable. He sat down nearby—hardly strange during the lunchtime rush—and, more than anything, seemed to be taking the opportunity to get a good look at Asou Akiya, who had recently stepped into the upper ranks.
A year ago, the distance between Asou Akiya and Executive Ousa had always been no less than ten meters.
"Executive Ousa."
"No need to be so formal. You're not my direct subordinate—just think of me as a colleague."
Ousa waved for one of his subordinates to go get food for him.
He rested his arm along the edge of the table, a black suit jacket draped over his shoulders, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned by two buttons. Japanese summers were anything but cool, and even stepping into the cafeteria from outside, wearing a full black suit was more than enough to make someone swelter. Aside from the future Dazai Osamu—who somehow never seemed to worry about heat rash—even ability users could get heatstroke under the blazing sun.
"Executive Ousa, what brings you to eat here today?" Asou Akiya sat back down, giving the other man ample courtesy and face.
"Mostly because it's close," Executive Ousa replied with a helpless shrug. "After coming back, I don't feel like waiting, and I don't feel like going out either. I heard you've been investing in various industries lately—have you ever considered expanding delivery services for Yokohama's restaurants?"
Asou Akiya gave it some serious thought before answering, "The labor costs would be too high. But mid- to high-end restaurants could be worth considering."
Executive Ousa laughed despite himself. "You really took that seriously, didn't you?"
Once Executive Ousa's food arrived, Asou Akiya followed Japanese workplace etiquette to the letter. He waited for the superior to begin eating before casually starting on his own meal. He had no desire to offend an executive over something so trivial.
Asou Akiya slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Food, clothing, housing, transportation—whichever one wins people's hearts is the one that makes money."
Executive Ousa nodded in approval. "As expected of a money-making expert."
Asou Akiya couldn't quite read his intentions. Was he trying to get a piece of the action—investments, stocks, something along those lines?
Lowering his voice, Executive Ousa said, "It's exactly what you're thinking. If there's a business that's guaranteed to make a profit, feel free to come to me. I doubt the Boss would mind putting in a bit more investment capital."
No one ever complained about having too much money. The upper echelons of the Mafia had enormous expenses—villas, fine wine, luxury cars, none of it lacking—and if they kept a few lovers on the side, the money drain was even worse. As for those who claimed not to care about such things, what they sought was something far greater than wealth itself.
Asou Akiya finally relaxed.
Executive Ousa picked up a piece of charcoal-grilled Pacific saury, unfazed by how the volume of conversation in the cafeteria seemed to drop by several degrees.
"Asou-kun, let me congratulate you in advance on becoming an executive candidate."
"—!!"
Caught completely off guard by having the matter laid bare, Asou Akiya's pupils contracted as he instinctively scanned the reactions of everyone around him.
Every single person eating in the cafeteria subtly changed expression.
It was easy to imagine that within a single day, most of the Port Mafia would know this news.
Executive Ousa spoke calmly, "Don't blame me for not warning you—this is the Boss's intention."
Asou Akiya frowned. "Executive Ousa, did you really have to say something like that in the cafeteria? I'm not even a candidate yet."
Executive Ousa ate heartily, his words deliberately vague as he spoke around his food. "Are you genuinely dense, or are you pretending? The five executive seats have already been short two people for a while now. Kouyou has locked down one position. If you become an executive candidate, that's basically one foot in the door already. The meaning of that is completely different. You can make money all you want, but sooner or later, you still have to find a way to make everyone else accept you."
Asou Akiya stared blankly at his tray; the food had suddenly lost all its flavor.
Since the day the Port Mafia was founded, the five executive seats had changed hands countless times. At present, only Executive Ousa, Executive Nishida, and Executive Yagishita remained—every one of them a combat-capable ability user. Ousa was practically an evergreen among them. For a non-ability user to sit securely in that position was almost a fantasy.
Executive Ousa flashed him a bright, open smile. "Take me, for example—I'm not exactly convinced you could rise to that position either."
Asou Akiya felt drained. If there were genuine hostility, Ousa wouldn't have said it so openly.
"Executive Ousa, at least leave me a bit of face."
"Haha, can't be helped. You're just far too bad at fighting. You can't possibly live in the Port Mafia headquarters forever, can you?"
After finishing his meal, Executive Ousa gave Asou Akiya a light pat on the shoulder as encouragement, then walked off easily, leaving behind nothing but the pressure he had created.
Part of what he said reflected the Boss's will; another part was purely his own stance.
If you don't want to die, don't sit in that seat.
And if you do sit in it, then you'd better push yourself to improve—stake your life on securing that sub-executive position.
Sensing the faint but unmistakable hostility lingering all around him, Asou Akiya felt his scalp prickle and a chill creep up from the pit of his stomach. No matter how you dressed it up, the Port Mafia was still an underworld organization; there were far more people here who liked using guns than people who liked using their brains. Asou Akiya bit down lightly on his chopsticks and thought to himself, When I've finally made ten billion U.S. dollars, I'll go ask the Boss for a reward in exchange.
If he were single, holing up in the Port Mafia headquarters' dormitories wouldn't have been such a problem.
But he had a wife and a son!!!
Sitting in Yokohama's "night," in the very nest of darkness, Asou Akiya found himself deeply missing the two people who lived under the sunlight.
[Randou is out there being a poet.]
[Chuuya is probably having the time of his life—no homework lately.]
A third, much smaller and rather aggrieved figure popped up in his mind, like a black cat rolling around on the ground.
[...]
[If Ranpo can behave himself for two whole months, I'll thank the heavens.]
Asou Akiya suppressed the faint unease rising in his heart. No matter what, Natsume Souseki was keeping watch on the outside—there was no need for him to worry too much.
…Probably.
Once he found Fukuzawa Yukichi, he could arrange a long-term meal ticket for Ranpo.
Asou Akiya returned his tray to the counter, earning a friendly smile from the cafeteria staff. "Mr. Asou, you're always so polite. You could've just left it on the table for us to collect."
He didn't bother to explain anything, maintaining the good manners he'd cultivated in his previous life, and walked absentmindedly back toward his office, exchanging greetings with quite a few colleagues along the way.
His reputation within the Port Mafia was about to rise to another level—either to be tempered and burned by raging fire, or to carve out a path as an ordinary man, forcing his way upward and pinning the other ability users beneath his feet within this underworld organization.
Asou Akiya began quietly gathering information from the black market, trying to find any clues about Fukuzawa Yukichi working as a bodyguard.
What he didn't know was that his own "cat-filled backyard" was already on the verge of catching fire.
"Hey!" Nakahara Chuuya dashed forward, cutting off Edogawa Ranpo just as he turned to leave. Chuuya spread his arms wide, using his own body to block the path of this mysterious mailman whose origins he couldn't grasp. "Don't go. Say clearly what you meant just now!"
Edogawa Ranpo casually dug a finger into his ear. "Didn't you already understand it yourself? Why do I have to spell it out point by point for you?"
This orange kitten really didn't seem very sharp.
Had the old man not taught him properly?
Chuuya pressed urgently, his voice tight. "When you say 'the old man,' you mean Mr. Asou, don't you?!"
Ranpo looked at him with genuine confusion. "Is there another adult man around you who gets close to you and treats you well?"
"How could he possibly be my father!" Chuuya blurted out. His face flushed scarlet, his heart thrown into utter turmoil. He cared far too much about his own origins—just the slightest mention was enough to set him off. His skin tightened, his posture instinctively hunched, bristling with raw aggression. His hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. He refused to believe it. He absolutely refused.
"I promised the old man that I wouldn't talk about him in front of other people," Ranpo said, completely ignoring Chuuya's denial. He hopped up the steps, talking to himself as if no one else mattered. "But I'm about to be adopted by him anyway, and you're the son he's been raising in secret, so you don't really count as 'other people,' right? I came to see you ahead of time because I wanted to take a look at what's so special about you, living here in Suribachi City. From now on, let's get along, yeah—orange little kitty."
Ranpo blinked at him cheerfully. "As for everything else, I don't know a thing."
Chuuya swore he had never met anyone this willful in his life—someone who spoke only half their thoughts and deliberately left the rest hanging in the air.
"If you don't explain it properly," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm not letting you leave."
The orange-haired boy's hair lifted slightly, as if stirred by an unseen current, and a faint tinge of red bled into the depths of his azure eyes as he fixed Ranpo with a ferocious stare.
In this moment, Nakahara Chuuya would rather be the villain.
He needed to know the truth—the truth about who had dragged him out of that sealed space and turned him into a human being.
A truth he had to obtain in this lifetime—no matter what!
"You're so long-winded," Edogawa Ranpo complained, rubbing his temple in annoyance. "You're nothing like the old man's kid at all. If you'd just use your brain a little, the answer would be obvious at a glance. Honestly, your temper is probably more like the person who actually gave birth to you, huh."
Nakahara Chuuya flushed with anger and embarrassment. "I've never even met my parents! And Mr. Asou has denied having any relationship with me before!"
Edogawa Ranpo suddenly fell silent. His emerald-green eyes carried a frightening sense of seeing straight through the past.
"Adults like to lie."
"Hey, haven't you ever doubted it?" he went on calmly. "Why does he favor you so much? Even when he's exhausted from work every single day, he still makes time to come see you after hours, wholeheartedly wanting to teach you how to read and study. He must have said things like this to you before, right? That you can't stay in Suribachi City forever, that once you step outside, you have to grasp the knowledge you're supposed to have, or you'll be toyed with by people who are truly clever."
He pointed directly at Nakahara Chuuya, who had fallen into confusion. "No matter how absurd the truth sounds, you still have to acknowledge it—"
"You are the son the old man has been raising in secret. Hurry up and mend your father–son relationship with him. He wants you to call him 'Father.' Even though he gave up on that because of various reasons, he is still the person who loves you the most."
Those words, spoken by a black-haired boy he had only just met, struck Nakahara Chuuya like a blow to the head.
Chuuya opened his mouth, but no rebuttal came. Unable to find a single convincing argument, he could only say weakly, in pain, "That's impossible."
He could do nothing but repeat the denial to himself.
Was Mr. Asou lying to him? Impossible—he was such a good person.
Was Mr. Asou his father? Impossible—he wasn't human, and the other was an ordinary man.
"That's strange," Ranpo said, tilting his head. Lacking any understanding of supernatural abilities, he sensed something he couldn't quite grasp. He leaned closer to Chuuya's deep blue eyes, curiosity written all over him, like a cat studying something new. "What are you wavering about?"
"You think you're not normal? That you shouldn't have normal parents?" He snapped, almost indignant. "Idiot! A father is a father!"
"The one who'll protect you for your entire life—who else could that be but your father!"
"And do you have any idea how hard that must have been for the old man?" Edogawa Ranpo continued, his tone uncharacteristically earnest. "Even though you aren't his biological son, he accepted everything without hesitation, secretly looking after you in the role of a father, constantly afraid that you might be bullied by others. You're wearing a silver necklace around your neck, aren't you?"
With sharp eyes, Ranpo hooked a finger lightly and drew out the pendant from Nakahara Chuuya's collar—a longevity lock that dangled against his chest.
"Your name was given to you by him."
Engraved on the longevity lock were the characters: Nakahara Chuuya.
"As for your surname, it's probably connected to your previous father," Ranpo shrugged casually. "I've never met him, so I wouldn't know. But amnesia isn't something anyone can help. The old man really did his best—your family issues are something you'll have to resolve yourself."
The sheer volume of information was overwhelming.
Nakahara Chuuya's brain overloaded and promptly crashed.
Lacking crucial knowledge about abilities, and having been misled by the careful groundwork Asou Akiya had laid three years in advance, Edogawa Ranpo's deduction veered away from the very core of the truth—yet it still remained within the truth's radius of influence.
Two years ago, an explosion tore through the Yokohama Foreign Settlement. Asou Akiya's beloved and that beloved's child were caught in the disaster. In the aftermath, Asou found only the gravely injured French youth, his life hanging by a thread, and was forced to take him away immediately. After that, Asou did everything he could to gain the French youth's trust, and from there began a romantic relationship with the person he loved. Later still, he finally found the lonely orange-haired kitten—wearing the necklace Asou himself had once given him, having lost all memory of recognizing Asou, and living among an orphan mutual-aid group, unwilling to leave.
Asou Akiya had been unable to take the boy away for two reasons.
First: the boy himself refused.
Second: his French lover did not agree.
This child had been jointly raised by his French lover and that lover's former partner.
"Fuahaha! Ranpo really is amazing!" Edogawa Ranpo laughed, praising himself without restraint. Every time he unraveled a secret, he felt the same exhilaration as gulping down an ice-cold soda.
"I'm heading off now."
"Don't thank me too much—I'm just a kindhearted little postman who loves doing good deeds!"
Behind him—
Still stunned, dazed, and thoroughly overstimulated, Nakahara Chuuya didn't even have time to reach out and grab him. All he could do was stare blankly as the other brushed past him and ran off.
Edogawa Ranpo hadn't gone far before he suddenly shouted again at the top of his lungs.
"My bicycle got stolen! Come over here and help me teach those kids a lesson!"
"…Huh? Oh—what?!"
Nakahara Chuuya's soul felt like it was floating somewhere outside his body. He staggered after him, completely overlooking one blindingly obvious fact that was right in front of his eyes.
You're nine years old!
And the one asking for your help is already thirteen!