Randou was the one driving. Asou Akiya still felt unwell, but leaning back against the seat, his condition was noticeably better than it had been a few days ago.
The two of them were heading out to pick up Edogawa Ranpo, who had been roaming freely outside.
Because it was the evening rush in the city, traffic was anything but smooth. Red lights were everywhere, which at least meant Akiya didn't have to worry about Randou suddenly pulling off something like a hearse drifting through the streets. Akiya cast a sideways glance at his lover. Come to think of it, he had discovered a latent side of Randou's personality: a thirst for adventure, an inability to remain content with stability, an eagerness to engage with unfamiliar things—and on top of that, an impressively fast learning curve.
Randou wasn't a pure intellect-type, but his ability to learn was far from poor. In the original story, if he hadn't been so deeply mired in memories of the past, then with the schemes he had laid out, his lies wouldn't have been exposed by Dazai Osamu so quickly.
Randou was simply too emotional.
A man who placed his own feelings above reason.
More frightening still—when he misspoke, he didn't care in the slightest. On the contrary, he would be genuinely intrigued if you managed to catch the flaw. He was a madman, deeply contradictory: chasing unexpected surprises, yet at the same time painfully nostalgic.
Asou Akiya couldn't help but mutter a complaint in his heart—using the same hat for eight years, how could that not count as being sentimental?
"Randou, wake me when we arrive."
Asou Akiya pulled down the car's eye mask and closed his eyes to rest for a bit. Traffic jams really knew no borders.
The Japan from decades ago in his previous life… was it really this bustling?
Someone who had never gone abroad back then couldn't say.
After drifting in and out of light sleep for a while, Asou Akiya heard a knock against the car window. He turned his head, the loose strands of his hair brushing softly against the leather seat with a faint rustle. His gaze, usually gentle, looked a little dim now from exhaustion as he recovered from his injuries. Outside the window, a black-haired boy leaned close to the glass after noticing he was awake, his cheek squished flat against it, turning his face into something comically pancake-like.
Edogawa Ranpo's face—flattened or not—was still an adorable little pancake.
"Ranpo, get in the car."
Asou Akiya's voice was faintly hoarse, adding the illusion of four or five extra years to his age.
Perhaps it was only his imagination.
He saw Ranpo's emerald-green eyes fill with a flowing river of light, countless strands of information surging and converging, finally settling into a trust so pure it was without flaw.
A child's innocent heart was one of the most beautiful things in the world.
Randou stepped out from the driver's seat and, together with Akiya, took on the responsibility of guardianship, lifting Edogawa Ranpo's suitcase and stuffing it into the trunk. The moment Ranpo saw Randou, he didn't climb into the car right away. Instead, he trotted over and said brightly, "Mr. Randou, why does Akiya look so listless? Should we let him come out and get some sun?"
Randou couldn't help but glance up at the sky. At dusk, the heavens over Yokohama were painted with clouds like a sea of fire.
"There isn't really any sun left to bask in right now."
"But the air outside feels nice."
"No need. Akiya has a whole month off. When he's feeling better, we can go out and stroll around."
"Wow, that's so much vacation!"
Edogawa Ranpo was unusually talkative today.
Randou noticed Ranpo's rumpled collar, and his mild compulsiveness flared. He reached out and fastened the misbuttoned buttons for him with his own hands. As he did, his naturally wavy long hair brushed past his ear, partially veiling his line of sight. His profile was elegant and gentle. Compared to the fragile, unwell Asou Akiya inside the car, Randou at this moment looked like a work of art that belonged in a hall of sculptures.
Ten meters down the street, a small-framed boy in a hoodie stood with the hood pulled low, pretending to be nothing more than a passerby.
As if drawn in by the warm, father-and-son-like scene, he turned his head to look.
In that single instant, he froze.
The Randou Asou Akiya spoke of stood right there by the roadside, wrapped in a gray-blue overcoat, long hair cascading over his shoulders like a dark, snow-laden cedar. His tall, slender figure seized the eye not through any deliberate display, but through an intangible presence that made it impossible to ignore him.
Nakahara Chuuya looked nothing like Randou. Their hair and eye colors were different as well—he himself had orange hair and blue eyes, while Randou had black hair and green eyes. Even Edogawa Ranpo, who was Japanese, bore a faint father-and-son resemblance to Randou. Compared to most Japanese people, Chuuya's features could be called refined and well-defined, yet when placed beside a true Frenchman, they lacked that profound depth. The contrast laid bare, with painful clarity, the traits of a Japanese–French mixed heritage.
Nakahara Chuuya felt both happy and despondent at once, thinking bitterly, So I really do look like Randou-san's former lover.
That teasing nickname—Mom—was something he could never bring himself to say.
The man didn't even know he existed. Even if Randou were to recover his memories one day, he probably wouldn't want to acknowledge a child born of a former relationship.
Chuuya cast one last glance at Randou, then at the ailing Asou Akiya inside the car, before turning away and leaving quickly. In those green eyes—contacts worn just in case—an unbidden trace of grievance quietly welled up.
Inside the car, Asou Akiya had been watching the street when he suddenly caught sight of a small figure, and his eyelid twitched.
That height… no, it was that pigeon-toed way of walking.
Wasn't that his own kid?!
Thinking of what Chuuya might be feeling, Akiya hesitated, words caught in his throat. He lowered his head and pulled out his phone. There was no way to communicate face to face right now. All he could rely on was the greatest invention of this era for human connection—the mobile phone.
[Chuuya, I'm watching you.]
The message landed on Nakahara Chuuya's phone, and the orange-haired boy, just about to bolt, shuddered.
Since the moment of his birth, there had been someone who watched over him with such gentleness.
Was this what family meant?
Why was it that, despite having no blood relation, despite being rejected by him time and time again, that person still cared for him so deeply?
[Mr. Akiya, do all human parents truly love their children?]
"..."
Asou Akiya had no time to reply to Chuuya. He looked up just in time to see Randou walking back toward the driver's seat, his expression calm and composed, ear protectors still on. Compared to how he appeared in front of enemies, he seemed far more approachable now, almost gentle.
Edogawa Ranpo climbed into the back seat of the car, then lunged forward, throwing himself against the front seat as he reached out with both hands to snatch Akiya's phone.
Akiya failed to hold onto it, and the phone was pulled right out of his grasp.
Randou said unhappily, "Ranpo?"
Ranpo's fingers flew, tapping away in a rapid clatter, before he shoved the phone back into Akiya's hands.
Curious about what he had done, Akiya lowered his gaze and opened the screen.
[Of course they do!]
The words Ranpo had typed seemed to thrum with force, firm and resonant, as though they could shatter the barriers around a person's heart with a single strike.
Akiya lowered his head and let out a soundless laugh, which in turn stirred Randou's curiosity. "Akiya, what are you two playing at?" he asked.
"I'm looking at a composition topic," Akiya replied. "The question is whether parents love their children. Ranpo answered it for me without a moment's hesitation—of course they do."
After starting the car, Randou added casually, "Generally speaking, if they didn't love them, they wouldn't give birth to them in the first place."
In the European world, where free love was highly valued, population growth often dipped into the negative. Randou's answer wasn't wrong. Still, Akiya reached out and lightly poked Randou's thigh with a finger, deliberately tickling him.
At the small provocation, Randou's gray-green eyes slid sideways toward him, the glow of dusk outside the window lending them a vivid splash of color.
He caught Akiya looking at him with a faint smile, and his gaze softened, rippling with light.
Thinking back on it now—
It had already been nearly half a month of abstinence.
In the back seat, Edogawa Ranpo was busy playing on his own phone, deliberately keeping his eyes off the adults in the front.
[Little orange kitty, your parents are showing off their affection again.]
Even if there were some deep-seated hatred involved, wouldn't it be better to take advantage of the fact that Mr. Randou had lost his memories, seize the opportunity early, worm one's way in, and carefully cultivate feelings? That way, wouldn't the poor little orange kitty be able to return to this family sooner?
The biggest problem was… just how much did that face resemble the predecessor, exactly?
Ranpo's gaze drifted back and forth as he tried to reason it out, but unfortunately, he had chosen the wrong target for his deduction.
Randou's personality was simply too unconventional.
So—
Ranpo covered his eyes with both hands, peering through the gaps between his fingers. On the surface, he saw nothing but syrupy sweetness between the two of them, yet beneath that surface, he glimpsed something far more unsettlingly real.
[Uncle Akiya, do you know your wife is bisexual?]
[Just now, he was thinking that if you were a girl—if you acted a little coquettish—he wouldn't mind having a child at all!]
[Sometimes he even wants to be the one on top!]
Terrifying. At the very least, mom would never harbor such "do-whatever-I-want" thoughts toward dad!
Is this what French people are like? Edogawa Ranpo's thoughts ran wildly off course.
...
Once they got home, dinner was Randou's responsibility, and naturally, it was French cuisine.
Edogawa Ranpo cast a resentful look at Asou Akiya. Akiya, however, failed to catch the meaning of that gaze; their thought processes were clearly not aligned. After a moment's hesitation, he asked tentatively, "Ranpo, would you like to try the French red bean soup Randou prepared so carefully?"
Asou Akiya could swear that Randou had, without question, prepared it with the utmost care.
After all, Akiya had personally watched Randou return home and deliberately detour to the supermarket next door to buy high-quality red beans and other ingredients.
His range of going out was strictly limited to within a hundred meters.
If not for the extra mouth at home waiting to be fed, Randou would not dare stray too far from Asou Akiya at all; should an accident occur and he fail to arrive in time, he would immediately unleash the "Illuminations" to seal off and strike the area on a large scale.
Edogawa Ranpo inhaled the rich, stewed aroma lingering in the air, his eyes gradually lighting up.
It smelled like it would be delicious.
After finishing a main meal that was filling but not overly so, Edogawa Ranpo cradled a two-handled ceramic bowl and gulped down the French red bean soup. The flavor was sweet without being cloying, the texture thick yet perfectly balanced, its gentle sweetness enough to wash away the day's dryness and fatigue.
Asou Akiya glanced at the two sweet-toothed people in his household and felt profoundly out of place.
"Randou, next time, how about trying a bit of pepper and salt?"
In an instant—
The French beauty and the green-eyed beautiful boy both turned to stare at him in unison, their expressions filled with sheer horror.
Under the visual assault delivered by two exquisitely beautiful cat-like creatures, Asou Akiya almost seemed to hear a sharp, pitiful "meow" echoing in his ears, protesting against their servant's outrageous desire to switch their cat food to some bizarre experimental flavor.
Asou Akiya leisurely finished his bowl of French red bean soup and smacked his lips.
"Never mind. Health comes first."
It seemed he would have to start training Nakahara Chuuya to tolerate spicy food—at this rate, there would soon be no one left willing to eat barbecue with him.
A life without chili peppers was simply incomplete!
...
A month-long vacation looks generous at first glance, yet without careful planning, it slips through one's fingers in the blink of an eye.
This truth is something students who have lived through winter and summer breaks understand more deeply than anyone.
Edogawa Ranpo's days passed in comfortable indulgence. He lacked neither money nor a warm bedroom, and with no immediate pressure to work, he simply could not be bothered to do so. He called it preparing to become a future detective novelist, but given his level of literary discipline, without a bit of external motivation he would happily extend his "creative period" indefinitely, quietly showing signs of becoming a second Oda Sakunosuke.
For the sake of a future where Ranpo could lie back and live off royalties for the rest of his life—where, should anything happen to Akiya, Ranpo would not have to beg on the streets and could still afford a high standard of living—Asou Akiya truly spared no effort.
He assigned new homework to both Edogawa Ranpo and Nakahara Chuuya.
Mutual supervision.
Only when Nakahara Chuuya could understand the poems he himself wrote, and when Edogawa Ranpo could write novels that Nakahara Chuuya could actually comprehend, would the two of them be considered to have, at last, graduated from elementary school.
As for what kind of consequences such an arrangement would bring about, Asou Akiya merely smiled, declining to comment.
In Suribachi City, after returning to his companions, Nakahara Chuuya was bombarded with questions about everything he had seen and heard in Tokyo. Shirasé, who had initially been jealous that Chuuya got to go out and have fun, was utterly shocked upon hearing that Chuuya had in fact gone there to make up lessons.
"You didn't go see Tokyo Tower? You didn't stroll around Ginza? You didn't climb the famous Mount Fuji?!"
So many exclamation marks threatened to spill out of his voice.
His companions' reactions left Nakahara Chuuya staring in a daze. Were those really places one absolutely had to visit?
"I knew you lacked common sense, but I didn't expect you to be this obedient, Chuuya," said a girl with the air of an older sister as she walked over, speaking gently. "So… what exactly did you go and do out of town?"
Nakahara Chuuya replied awkwardly, "I met a detective novelist and stayed at his place as a guest for three days."
Shirasé blurted out impatiently, "Did he give you any gifts?"
Nakahara Chuuya answered honestly, "Books."
The people gathered around him in the Sheep scattered within minutes, each going off to mind their own business, having completely lost interest in hearing more. If they liked reading or wanted to attend school, they would have gone looking for foster families back when Suribachi City was first established.
Chuuya felt drained. If he hadn't gone out and seen the wider world, he would have thought reading was a dull and pointless thing as well.
That way of thinking was a mistake.
Being able to realize that did not mean others could change their mindset so easily. Sometimes, knowing something was one matter, actually doing it was another entirely. The free-spirited atmosphere of Suribachi City shaped those orphans whose lives had yet to take form. What they admired were adults who could slaughter their enemies without mercy; what they longed for were the weapons held in soldiers' hands; what they wanted to drink were not bottles of ramune, but harsh, pungent alcohol—something that could let them taste the sweetness of degeneration.
And then, just as Nakahara Chuuya was settling back into what passed for a normal life, he received a new demand from Asou Akiya—
He completely blew up.
Orange cat screaming.jpg
"How am I supposed to understand Ranpo's novels?! Aren't those written for dead people to read?!"
At the same time, inside the study, Edogawa Ranpo was having a meltdown of his own. "Poetry? Fine, Randou's poems get a pass—sure, I don't understand them, but at least his handwriting is pretty. But the little orange cat writing poetry? That's something even a three-year-old wouldn't want to look at twice! Akiya is going way too far, making me write a reading response of no fewer than two hundred words!"
Outside the study, Randou—already considering clearing out an upstairs room to turn into a small private study for Ranpo—glanced at Asou Akiya, who was shamelessly eavesdropping, and lightly nudged his lover's shoulder. "Ranpo doesn't seem very happy."
Asou Akiya smiled and quoted a classic line passed down from Natsume Souseki.
"Diamonds must be polished by diamonds."
If you want to shine, then go ahead and grind against each other. Chuuya, you should be grateful that the one your dad found for you is Ranpo.
Next time you run into Dazai Osamu, you'll surely have built up plenty of experience in verbal sparring by then.
First take on a level 100 opponent, then go after level 90!
So smugly anticipating the spectacle, Asou Akiya completely overlooked the fact that he himself was currently disguised as one of the "diamonds" in Natsume Soiseki's eyes. By that same logic, someone else was also pondering how best to polish him.
In Yokohama, Japan, three people shuddered at the same time.
The weather had turned cold.
And the government hadn't gone bankrupt yet.