Overnight, Edogawa Ranpo gleefully slipped into the identity of an "ability user."
Fukuzawa Yukichi barely had time to finish his next words before the boy had already filled in every blank with flawless imagination. In Ranpo's mind, he himself was an ability user, his entire family shared the same gift, and his guardian had concealed the truth about his powers all along to prevent them from spiraling out of control. The day he grew mature enough to uncover that hidden ability would mark the moment the "seal" finally broke!
He was the chosen one, endowed with talents far beyond ordinary mortals. Destiny had summoned him to rescue this world of dull, commonplace fools!
"Hahahaha—I shall protect these idiotic adults, pity their limited minds! It isn't that they hate me or oppress me; they simply cannot comprehend the world I inhabit—"
Edogawa Ranpo shattered the barriers clouding his vision and gazed out upon a vast, boundless realm of abilities.
In that instant, he felt his very soul ascend to a higher plane.
Light and joyous.
The chains that had once bound him snapped one after another. Someone stood ahead, watching over him, guiding his steps. He was truly blessed.
The dark-haired boy savored the intoxicating satisfaction of his "awakening" for a lingering moment. His emerald eyes narrowed like a contented cat's—then abruptly flicked toward the far end of the corridor.
There stood Catherine, clad in a midnight-black gown, an elegant feather fan held gracefully in her hand, a veiled hat framing her face. Her gaze carried unmistakable envy mixed with jealousy as she stared at Edogawa Ranpo. How could he have become an ability user in the blink of an eye?
"Sister, I am an ability user now. There's no way I can go with you."
"…I see."
Catherine was not surprised that Ranpo had seen through her intentions. This boy's intellect had reached a truly extraordinary, boundary-breaking level. If it were not an ability, how else could one explain such prodigious talent in a mere human?
After a brief pause, curiosity overcame her restraint.
"Congratulations. What does it feel like to become an ability user?"
Edogawa Ranpo reached into his pocket and drew out a glass marble—pale blue in hue.
He lifted it to his eye and peered through the glass at the world beyond.
A riot of dazzling colors burst forth—five hues, ten shades, all shimmering in splendid chaos.
"This world—truly fascinating, truly beautiful! It is woven from the dull threads of boring people into the most marvelous stories, and those who spin the tales are waiting, eagerly anticipating the day the grown-up Ranpo-sama joins their ranks."
The scriptwriting team had officially welcomed a new member!
Super Deduction—Edogawa Ranpo!
Edogawa Ranpo cast aside all restraint and threw himself into the pursuit of the shadowy forces pulling strings behind the theater. He climbed into Inspector Tamura's car, deliberately stepping straight into the trap that had been laid for him. Meanwhile, Fukuzawa Yukichi had no choice but to follow the script Ranpo himself had written—racing against time to track down the boy's whereabouts.
To locate the place where Ranpo was being held, Fukuzawa Yukichi descended into an underground detention facility near the police station. There, lining the corridor, stood row upon row of curry rice containers. Even from a distance the rich, fragrant aroma curled through the air, warm and inviting.
Fukuzawa Yukichi questioned the guards and received an answer delivered with unmistakable pride: "The citizens brought these over themselves as thanks. It's wonderful to have a proper midnight snack. I already checked with the shop—they said delivering meals here is perfectly fine."
Guided by one of the detention officers, Fukuzawa Yukichi soon stood before a cell and saw Oda Sakunosuke.
The young assassin, shoulders still carrying the softness of youth, sat motionless inside the dim cell. His eyes were vacant, lifeless—until the moment he caught sight of the newcomer. Instantly his voice rasped out a single phrase:
"Curry rice."
Fukuzawa Yukichi blinked. "?"
The red-haired boy spoke again, his tone ghostly and distant: "I can smell the thick, rich scent of curry rice drifting in."
An idea sparked in Fukuzawa Yukichi's mind. He leaned closer to the bars and said: "If you help me with one thing, I will personally see to it that you get a portion. There is plenty waiting outside."
The red-haired boy murmured: "How impressive…"
Fukuzawa Yukichi frowned, puzzled by the words, unsure what the boy meant. Yet Oda Sakunosuke offered nothing more. Time pressed heavily against Fukuzawa Yukichi's shoulders; he had no leisure to probe deeper. Urgently he asked the most pressing question—where the V organization was most likely to be holding Ranpo.
The red-haired boy—Oda Sakunosuke—lifted his gaze and fixed it steadily on him.
Then, in a quiet voice, he asked: "What does it feel like… not to kill?"
Fukuzawa Yukichi froze.
His hand moved instinctively toward his waist—toward the place where his sword used to hang day after day, decade after decade. That blade had been his constant companion, the weapon he had honed through countless years of training, the same weapon that had cut down innumerable targets on government orders.
"Not killing… feels very peaceful."
"..."
"And what does it feel like to protect people?"
"...It gives you a sense that you still have value, that you haven't completely lost yourself."
Fukuzawa Yukichi truly lived up to his reputation as an educator of the three-dimensional world—even here, he could not help but radiate positive energy.
After those words fell, the prison cell became profoundly still.
It was the tail end of the year, the coldest part of the season. Even criminals longed for warmth at a time like this—they wanted a place to drink with friends and family, not to be left alone inside a cold cell, seeing out the chaotic close of another year.
Something unfamiliar drifted through the blue of Oda Sakunosuke's eyes—emotions Fukuzawa Yukichi could not quite read, as though the usual cold detachment had thawed just a little.
"Actually… living here isn't so bad. The air-conditioning works, the bedding is decent. The food is just particularly awful. I could escape anytime I wanted—but lately I've suddenly found myself wanting to see how one particular book ends."
"The story is approaching its conclusion. The protagonist is going to meet a very dangerous appointment… for the sake of his wife and children."
"Whether he lives or dies—I'm very curious."
"Buy that book for me."
"And I'll tell you the address you want to know."
After a killer chooses to stop killing and decides instead to protect others… just what kind of ending awaits him?
Oda Sakunosuke wanted to see it reflected in the bodyguard from the novel—and in the real-life Fukuzawa Yukichi standing before him. The male protagonist carried echoes of both the other man and himself, as though the story were quietly foretelling the path his own future might one day follow.
All at once.
A faint weariness toward the profession of assassin settled over him.
He thought—if the ending turned out to be a beautiful one, perhaps he really could consider trying a different line of work.
...
Fukuzawa Yukichi left.
Oda Sakunosuke received a portion of fragrant, spicy curry—and a brand-new copy of the novel.
He read slowly, savoring each page until he reached the final part.
In an instant the curry lost its aroma. His mouth turned flavorless. The lively spark in his thoughts seemed doused by a sudden bucket of cold water.
The novel's ending revealed that the protagonist died!
Total annihilation!!!
Oda Sakunosuke swallowed down the ache in his chest and forced himself to read the author's afterword—the one addressed directly to "the readers." He had always believed himself far from naive, yet more than ninety percent of the story's beautiful moments had quietly kindled in him a longing for that world.
"Only if the protagonist survives can the tale truly be called 'Zenzai'?"
"Death… leaves nothing behind. It is neither good nor evil. It is merely one more tragedy in the span of a human life."
"To onlookers it brings only added sorrow. In the end the protagonist could not save his wife and children."
"This blade—such a fine blade."
Oda Sakunosuke set the book down and let out a silent sigh of lament.
So that's how it is—
An assassin who no longer wishes to kill is doomed to tragedy, isn't he? Utter tragedy! The wrong way of living inevitably leads to that final, inescapable outcome.
Oda Sakunosuke resumed eating the curry rice that had long gone cold. Once more the sharp bite of chili flooded across his taste buds.
"Ah… I'm alive again."
A life made entirely of sugar is, after all, nothing but an illusion.
...
Inside a stronghold belonging to the V organization.
"Kimura Semei" had slipped past the guards and arrived early to lie in wait. Now he crouched there, bored out of his mind, idly tugging at strands of his own hair.
He pulled one out; it fell to the ground and vanished. A moment later a new one sprouted in its place on his scalp. This little trick was something he had only recently discovered as a way to pass the time. This body of his was a false human shell—incapable of real injury or bloodshed—yet every sensation of pain remained perfectly intact. People, he reflected, only remember to review their entire lives once they are dead, and only then do they realize just how thoroughly unsatisfying it all was.
While alive, he served as cheap labor for the Black Lizard.
When dead, he became an overworked corporate slave under an ability user—on duty every day of the year, no holidays, summoned at any hour. The mere thought of it was enough to make him want to weep.
"Why on earth was 'I' so arrogant back then!"
If he had not killed Asou Akiya's parents all those years ago, none of this would have happened. He would not have been turned into a plaything, denied even the peace of death. Not even the government's most elite corporate drones were subjected to treatment this cruel, were they?
When he caught sight of Fukuzawa Yukichi arriving to mount the rescue, "Kimura Semei" first confirmed that Edogawa Ranpo was safe—then quietly withdrew from the scene.
In the very instant he departed, Edogawa Ranpo's gaze flicked toward him.
"Hmph hmph."
The sensation of being protected by an adult.
Edogawa Ranpo completely forgot the peril he had faced only moments ago beneath the barrel of a gun. Swelling with smug pride, he turned toward Fukuzawa Yukichi and crowed triumphantly: "Silver-haired old man—just as I calculated! No, even a little faster than I calculated, you came!"
What he received in return was Fukuzawa Yukichi's sudden, furious outburst.
Slap—!
Edogawa Ranpo—who had spent the entire evening reveling in delight—was struck so hard that he burst into loud, wailing sobs. Through the sharp sting of pain he finally felt the depth of that "concern."
Adults were too much! Did protecting someone really require hitting them as well?!
No way!
He was clearly safe already!!!
At Bankoudou, Natsume Souseki stepped into his own domain. His eyes swept over the two figures inside, then lifted to the blackboard on the wall.
"Welcoming the arrival of my esteemed self?"
The pair—one dozing lightly, the other slumped in sleep after finishing his written reflection—snapped awake in perfect unison.
Asou Akiya meekly handed over his completed self-criticism.
Meanwhile Randou propped himself up, rising slowly from the cradle of Akiya's arms. He straightened his posture and turned to regard the man whom Akiya had already decided would become his future teacher.
"So this is Natsume-sensei?"
Natsume Souseki appeared to be a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in the impeccable style of an English gentleman—though his true age remained a mystery.
His features were handsome and refined, carrying none of the sinister edge one might expect. Only the sharpness in his gaze as he observed others betrayed something keener beneath the surface.
"Good evening, Randou-kun."
Natsume Souseki returned the greeting while quietly appraising the young man in front of him. Randou looked remarkably docile—especially when he had been curled up with his head resting on Asou Akiya's lap moments earlier. There was not the slightest trace of menace about him. Draped in men's clothing though he was, if one judged solely by his face he resembled nothing so much as a beautiful French companion kept by a member of the Port Mafia.
Randou, adopting the courteous tone of a junior in the literary world, offered a friendly reply.
"Natsume-sensei, good evening."
Natsume Souseki accepted the greeting with a small nod and began skimming through several pages of the self-criticism at a glance—ten lines at a time.
Gradually the faint dissatisfaction that had lingered on his face melted away.
Asou Akiya had poured everything into the document: various methods to patch up every conceivable vulnerability, written with trembling care and exhaustive detail. He had included every possible precaution he could think of and concluded with the words: "I have no experience in laying out plans and feel deeply ashamed of my shortcomings. From now on I will earnestly listen to Natsume-sensei's guidance and strive to become a proper student."
Natsume Souseki thought to himself: I haven't even accepted you as a student—must you be so forward about it?
Yet the earnestness of the gesture left him somewhat disarmed. His expression softened.
"It's written quite well."
Hearing those words, Asou Akiya redoubled his efforts at contrition and bowed his head even lower.
"It was my negligence in Ranpo's education that allowed him to stray down the wrong path. Fortunately Fukuzawa-san was there. From now on I will maintain friendly communication with him and do my utmost to ensure Fukuzawa-san guides Ranpo back onto the proper course."
"…Do you actually know what Fukuzawa Yukichi did tonight?"
Natsume Souseki's lips curved in a half-smile that held no real mirth. Merely recalling the events of the evening made his breath catch in his throat.
Asou Akiya blinked.
"Him?"
Asou Akiya spent five full seconds recovering his ability to think. The apologetic expression on his face slowly shifted into a trace of suspicion.
If one looked at it in the best possible light, Fukuzawa Yukichi had simply struck Ranpo awake from his self-deception—everyone ends up happy, Ranpo breaks free from the cocoon that bound him, and the only remaining question is how to help Ranpo adjust to a world of comparatively lower intelligence. If one looked at it in the worst possible light, Fukuzawa Yukichi had deceived Edogawa Ranpo into believing he was an ability user, convincing him that he had many kindred spirits out there.
That should not be such a big deal.
In the original story, was that not exactly how they handled Ranpo…?
But with "himself" thrown into the equation as an unpredictable variable, just what might Fukuzawa Yukichi do? How exactly would he explain it to Ranpo?
Asou Akiya suddenly felt a hidden crisis lurking somewhere behind him—as though someone were quietly preparing to stab him in the back.
He asked with genuine humility: "Natsume-sensei, I cannot figure it out."
Natsume Souseki let his smile fade. His tone turned subtly meaningful.
"If I had not been present myself, even I would not have guessed."
He let the emotion build for a moment before delivering the "surprising" truth.
"Have you already thought of how you are going to explain to Ranpo that your entire family consists of ability users?"
"...?"
Asou Akiya froze in complete bewilderment.
He turned slowly—almost sluggishly—toward one of the supposed "entire family," Randou, searching the other's face for any clue to the reason. Randou, equally stunned, murmured in a daze: "…Entire family… are ability users???"
At first Randou was simply lost. Then realization hit him faster than it had hit Akiya. A brilliant light exploded in his eyes.
"Akiya! You are an ability user?!"
Asou Akiya could hardly believe his ears.
"Holy shit!"
Fukuzawa Yukichi!
It's fine if you tricked Ranpo, but why on earth did you have to drag me into the mess as well?! The whole family thing only works because I am the ordinary one!!
Asou Akiya frantically pressed both hands against Randou, who was already lunging forward to tackle him in excitement. Panic flooded his voice.
"I am not! Don't get so worked up—I really am not! If I were, I would have told you long ago!"
If he had ever wanted to pretend to be an ability user, he would have done it ages ago.
The reason he never bothered to fake it was painfully simple—the danger level would only shoot higher, never lower!
Arthur Rimbaud might show mercy to an ordinary human, but he would never extend the same grace to an ability user!
The implications of the two kinds of deception were completely different!
"Natsume-sensei!" Asou Akiya turned in desperate appeal toward Natsume Souseki, who was watching the spectacle with evident amusement.
"Perhaps you are, perhaps you are not—no one can say for certain." Natsume Souseki offered his assessment with perfect objectivity. "There is no need for you to undervalue yourself. The hidden potential within human beings is something contemporary science still cannot detect or measure. When talent reaches its absolute peak and surpasses everyone else around you, even if you declare yourself an 'ability user,' no one would dare contradict you."
The events of tonight had given Natsume Souseki considerable food for thought. For the first time he had witnessed someone successfully convincing a genuine non-ability user that they possessed an ability—and, what was more astonishing, making every bystander completely convinced of the lie.
Asou Akiya was on the verge of tears.
"I am just an ordinary person!"
Natsume Souseki tossed the thick stack of the self-criticism report onto the table, bringing the matter of the evening to a decisive close.
"An ordinary person would never have the nerve to pull something like this off. Anyone capable of doing so has already ceased to be ordinary."
"Akiya, my boy."
"Seize the moment—climb your way up to the position of sub-executive as quickly as you can."
Natsume Souseki had no desire to witness any further display of affection between the pair. He had already acknowledged Asou Akiya's potential: the boy had clear weaknesses, which meant he could be molded and improved; his combat ability could be trained up over time. As long as he refrained from letting thoughts of his beloved distract him during serious work, everything would be fine. Before leaving, Natsume Souseki delivered one final warning.
"You are not permitted to do that sort of thing inside Bankoudou. If I ever discover you have—consider yourself dead."
The sharp claws of a tricolor cat flashed in silent threat.
The door closed behind him.
Inside the Bankoudou Hall, after listening to Asou Akiya's full explanation, Randou's eyes still shimmered with the bright glow of dreams.
"Akiya, even if you are not one right now, I want you to become an ability user."
"..." I want that too!
"Is there a way? If not, perhaps I could seek out someone who possesses that kind of ability and have them extract the power for you? You are already so clever, Akiya—if you also had an ability to protect yourself, I would feel far more at ease."
"...Randou, I am truly touched. But we should head home now."
"Akiya~."
"Randou, the methods by which people usually gain an ability the day after tomorrow tend to be exceptionally cruel. We cannot bear that kind of cost."
"Tell me then—just how cruel could it possibly be?"
The amnesiac transcendent spoke with the pure, innocent words of someone untouched by the world's harshness. His gaze remained soft and gentle, as though there were nothing he would not do for Asou Akiya. Such a willingness to walk through fire and water for love was the sort of devotion that could drive countless ambitious schemers utterly mad with envy.
Yet—not including Asou Akiya.
Asou Akiya hoisted Randou—who had been clinging to him like a limpet—onto his shoulder, carrying him home like a neatly packaged bundle. As they walked through the night streets he continued speaking without pause.
"How about this—you change your personality, you have a child with another woman, and then the child passes the ability they inherit on to me. What do you think?"
"...Huh?"
"Or alternatively—you do not get jealous, you help me find a powerful female ability user. I have a child with her. If the child turns out to be a non-ability user, the female ability user first transmits her ability to the child through the maternal bloodline, and then the child passes it on to me through the paternal bloodline?"
"..."
"The government's ability modification program is completely out of the question—the death rate is far too high, it's nothing but gambling your life on sheer luck."
"..."
"You should just focus on strengthening 'Illuminations' instead. Read the mind of some powerful figure who does not do good deeds, force him to transform into a humanoid ability and serve as my bodyguard. That would already satisfy me completely."
"Akiya...the things you are saying are going to give me nightmares. Is there not a simpler way?"
From his perch on Asou Akiya's shoulder Randou asked the question with careful hesitation.
Asou Akiya answered with a dazzling smile.
"Darling, let us go dream instead. In dreams everything is possible."
In this world only a tiny handful of people knew the truth: abilities followed a system of bloodline inheritance.
According to the two childbearing scenarios Asou Akiya had casually outlined—even Japan's Special Division for Unusual Powers would probably be shocked speechless by such suggestions. In Asou Akiya's view, taking the original story's Kyouka Izumi inheriting her mother's "Demon Snow" as precedent, abilities could theoretically be obtained in both forward and reverse directions through the blood ties between parents and children. Compared to relying on The Book, this method was far more reliable.
The true nature of The Book remained unknown. It could be tampered with. The risks were far too great.
If Asou Akiya had no love in his heart, no morals, no conscience—he might actually consider pursuing such a path.
But he had Randou now.
Why would he ever settle for a second-hand ability!