Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

#1 

Detective Junichiro Tanizaki was at a loss. 

The newcomer was glaring at him. He hadn’t said a word ever since he took a seat across from Tanizaki. Instead, the newcomer simply sat motionlessly as he fixed Tanizaki with a penetrating gaze. 

“I’m so sorry!” Tanizaki had bowed his head and apologized a few moments earlier, but the newcomer still didn’t even blink. 

They were in a bright café. An old piano tune with a sorrowful melody was playing in the background, almost so softly that it couldn’t be heard. 

There were four people sitting at the table, each a detective. They had just gone to town to buy new furniture for the newcomer and decided to stop by a café on their way back to relax. Still bowing apologetically, Tanizaki stole a glance at the newcomer’s face, only to meet his frighteningly piercing gaze. “Fiendish” would be an understatement; it was as if Cerberus were staring down Tanizaki before the gates of hell. That gaze was ruthless, unrelenting—unforgiving. 

Tanizaki had encountered various miscreants and criminals due to the nature of his work, but he’d never seen such a vicious look in someone’s eyes before. The newcomer’s name was Akutagawa. He was a young man who’d just passed the agency’s entrance exam the day before. 

“Uh…,” muttered Tanizaki in a feeble voice before timidly continuing, “I’m really sorry about yesterday. Even if it was a test, for me to pretend to be a mad bomber and threaten to kill you was just… Uh… You’re angry, aren’t you?” 

To no one’s surprise, Akutagawa still didn’t reply. He took the Armed Detective Agency’s entrance examination yesterday where he had to protect the other detectives from a bomber who was played by Tanizaki. Tanizaki had taken a woman hostage, then barricaded himself inside the building and demanded to see the agency’s president. Nevertheless, Akutagawa was able to subdue him within seconds. 

“J-Jun, everything’s going to be okay. Your sister’s right here with you,” assured Naomi in an attempt to cheer Tanizaki up. She had played the bomber’s hostage. 

“You’ve given him the silent treatment long enough,” barked Kunikida, a tall, bespectacled man and seasoned detective who was sitting between Akutagawa and Tanizaki. “You passed your test yesterday. In other words, from today on, Tanizaki is your superior. You can’t just stare at him in silence for the rest of your life.” 

Akutagawa swiveled his eyes over to Kunikida with palpable intensity. 

“Erk!” 

Even the highly experienced detective couldn’t stop himself from yelping when he came face-to-face with the boy’s fearsome glare. A child would’ve burst into tears at the sight. 

Tanizaki suddenly glanced over in Kunikida’s direction. His gaze silently asked: 

What should we do, Kunikida? The new guy is really mad. We did threaten him and put him in danger with the whole bomber and hostage thing, after all… He’s not going to kill us, is he? 

Kunikida’s expression remained hard as a rock, but he replied with his own silent gaze: 

Don’t be stupid. What we did yesterday was all an act. It was a test he needed to take to join our agency. Not only that, but he passed with flying colors. Even if he did happen to attack us, we have two seasoned agents here. He wouldn’t stand a chance. At any rate, it’s you he’s angry with, not me. 

Uh, Kunikida, why are you acting like this has nothing to do with you? 

“Unforgivable,” the newcomer suddenly muttered, causing both of them to slightly jump out of their seats. 

Tanizaki’s mind went numb. He’s…gonna kill me, isn’t he? 

“The girl who played the hostage—is she your sister?” 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah… Naomi’s my little sister.” 

Akutagawa’s expression remained emotionless as he took a sip of water. He then said, “You should cherish your sister. Protect her.” 

Tanizaki repeated those words three times to himself until it suddenly hit him. 

“…Wait… A-are you in a bad mood…because I was rough with Naomi while she played the hostage? Is that it?” 

Still fixing Tanizaki with a piercing gaze, Akutagawa nodded so faintly that it was almost impossible to notice. 

“Oh my. Really? You don’t have to worry about me, though. See? My brother and I are extremely close.” Naomi snuggled up to Tanizaki and began rubbing her cheek on his collar. “I actually requested to play the hostage because I wanted Jun to tie me up.” 

Akutagawa emotionlessly looked back and forth between the two as they shared an intimate moment, then said, “I see. Then there is nothing to worry about. It appears I jumped to a hasty conclusion.” 

The waitress just happened to be walking by, so he turned to her and asked, “Could I get the sweet red bean soup and some roasted green tea?” 

“Sure thing!” the waitress replied with a smile and a nod before leaving to place the order. 

Akutagawa then faced forward once more and took another sip of his water. All the while, his gaze remained as sharp and penetrating as the hound of Hades. 

Is the new guy…? 

Tanizaki and Kunikida exchanged glances. It appeared they shared the same opinion: The newcomer was not glaring at them out of malice. This was just how he always looked…as frightening as that was. 

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa was an orphan who had been found by the riverbank on the verge of starving to death. Nobody at the agency really knew much about him or his background. They weren’t told why Akutagawa was on the verge of death, nor were they told how he was found and taken in. All they knew was that he was a highly talented skill user who could manipulate his clothes into any shape he wanted and that he joined the detective agency to search for someone. 

“Anyway, what’s taking that man so long?” Kunikida retrieved his pocket watch and began restlessly tapping it with his finger. “He was supposed to be here already. Sigh… The man takes in an orphan half starved to death and convinces him to join the agency, only to abandon the boy like this… Honestly.” 

“He can be pretty unpredictable—that’s for sure,” remarked Tanizaki as if to mediate. “But when I called him a moment ago, he said he’d be here in five minutes, so let’s wait a little longer.” 

“Easier said than done…” 

Kunikida glanced at Akutagawa, who was blankly staring off into space. But the look in his eyes was still demonic, like a torturer of the underworld. A cold silence reigned over their table; theirs was the quietest in the entire café thanks to the newcomer’s stiff demeanor. 

“Hey, uh… Akutagawa?” Tanizaki timidly squeaked. “Is, uh… Oh, I know. Is there anything else you wanted to order?” 

“No,” replied Akutagawa with that same penetrating gaze. 

And then there was silence. 

Tanizaki felt like he was slowly withering from the inside. 

Sheesh, this conversation’s going nowhere… Am I even gonna be able to work with this guy…? 

His younger sister, Naomi, picked up on how he was feeling and bluntly asked with a smile, “By the way, Akutagawa, what did you do before you joined the agency?” 

Tanizaki secretly squealed with joy. 

Good job, Naomi! That’s my little sis. I knew I could count on you. 

Akutagawa pondered for a few moments before replying, “My past is like the withering winds—a pebble among gravel. I am always moving, never staying long in one place. I’ve never had a real job. I simply wandered the slums day in and day out.” 

In other words, he basically did nothing, thought Tanizaki. Huh. That’s surprising. 

“But surely you would’ve had no problem finding a job with an amazing skill like that, right?” said Tanizaki. “You could’ve been a bodyguard or security guard or something. I bet lots of places would’ve hired you.” 

Akutagawa, however, lowered his gaze without saying a word. Perhaps he wasn’t comfortable talking about this. After thinking for a moment, Tanizaki asked, “Then…what are you into? Anything you particularly like or dislike?” 

“Not really.” 

The brief reply almost sent Tanizaki into a mental breakdown, but he fired himself back up and doubled down. 

“Well, uh… Let’s say you had to choose something.” 

“If I had to…? Hmm…” 

Akutagawa’s gaze wandered as his mind went to work. 

“I enjoy…tea, figs, and red bean soup… I dislike—If I had to choose, I suppose it’d be fava beans, mandarin oranges, and…stray dogs.” 

“Oh? Stray dogs, huh?” 

Tanizaki’s face lit up with a smile. 

So he hates dogs? Guess he isn’t totally unusual, after all. 

“I know what you mean. There are some massive stray dogs around here, and they’ll just bark at you for absolutely no reason. Scares even the adults.” 

“I see,” replied Akutagawa while sipping on his drink. “A stray dog once almost chewed my arm off in the slums while I was asleep. I immediately woke up and was able to escape, but…I haven’t liked dogs since then.” 

His reasoning was far more horrific than anyone imagined. 

“O-oh, you don’t say…” Tanizaki shuddered as his eyes goggled in astonishment. He didn’t know what else to say, so he simply added, “That must’ve been rough.” 

“No. It was nothing out of the ordinary in the slum where I grew up. One of the people I lived with was even killed and devoured by a stray dog… Of course, I made sure to slaughter each and every one in the neighborhood as payback after that.” 

“O-oh…you don’t say.” 

The newcomer had been through a lot, apparently. Tanizaki struggled to find something to talk about, and every time he did, he regretted it. It wasn’t long before he turned into a robot that automatically replied to everything with “You don’t say.” 

“Allow me to ask something as well,” Akutagawa suddenly said. “What did you all used to do? Where did you work before joining the agency?” 

“Oh my. That’s a wonderful question.” Naomi clapped her hands together and beamed. “That’s the first thing most people ask. We actually have a game where we try to guess what someone used to do before joining the agency. Right, Jun?” 

“Y-yeah… We make all the new hires do it. Still…the man who found you is a tough nut to crack. Nobody’s been able to guess correctly so far, so the prize pool from everyone’s bets is now at seven hundred thousand yen. You should give it a try, too.” 

Just then, the waitress appeared with a tray. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Here’s your roasted green tea and—” 

But the waitress wasn’t able to finish her sentence…because she had stepped on the hem of Akutagawa’s coat. She instinctively tried to lift her foot back up, but that mistake would cost her. As she pulled her foot back, her heel got caught on the fabric. She let out a small yelp as she tried to right herself, but her foot got tangled in her kimono, causing her to stumble backward until she slammed both of her hands onto a nearby table to catch herself. The tea that was on the tray flew through the air—and right over Akutagawa’s head. 

“…!” 

The detectives reflexively leaped out of their seats, but it was too late. The burning liquid was spilling right onto Akutagawa’s head. Naomi briefly shrieked; Kunikida and Tanizaki froze. Kunikida’s hand was on the pistol at his waist. If he hadn’t hesitated for another second, he would have been pointing the gun right at Akutagawa. 

“Watch where you’re walking,” warned Akutagawa dispassionately. “You could have burned someone.” 

Akutagawa had silently expanded his coat and blocked the hot liquid mere moments before it would have burned his head. He’d reacted with almost godlike speed. Tanizaki looked at Kunikida, who then peered down at the hand he’d placed on his gun almost unconsciously. Neither of them had been trying to help the waitress, nor tend to Akutagawa’s wound. Their only goal in that moment was to kill Akutagawa—because for a split second, they sensed the murderous fury surge through him like a flash of light. Theirs was an instinctive reaction in order to protect themselves from harm. Both Tanizaki and Kunikida instinctively predicted that Akutagawa was going to behead the waitress. 

Akutagawa had passed the entrance exam, but he hadn’t passed the real test. There were still some conditions Akutagawa had to meet before he could become a detective. He saved the hostage from the bomber extremely quickly, but speed wasn’t a requirement to join the agency. A detective must possess the self-discipline and steadfast morals needed to protect the people—an honorable spirit that does not waver in even the most extreme situations. That was the policy of the president of the agency, Fukuzawa. The entrance exam had another rule as well: The examinee must not know they are being tested. 

Akutagawa saved the hostage so quickly that he still hadn’t gotten the chance to demonstrate how his mind worked. Therefore, he would only serve as a temporary member of the agency for now, and the real entrance examination would take place at a later date, when his fate would be decided. In other words, both Tanizaki and Kunikida were in the middle of a mission. Their objective was to gauge whether Akutagawa was truly fit to join the agency, and if he proved to be wicked, they were to immediately dispose of him before anyone got hurt. 

Kunikida took a nervous breath, then peeled his fingers off his pistol. The newcomer was a mystery to him. He couldn’t read him, nor tell how he was feeling. All he could see was his piercing gaze and powerful skill. But at his core, was Akutagawa good or evil? 

Both Kunikida and Tanizaki wondered: Why was someone like Akutagawa joining the agency? What was that man thinking when he recommended Akutagawa? 

Just then, the door to the café opened, and a tall man walked inside. He had his back to the light, casting a shadow over his face. 

“Oh,” squeaked Tanizaki after turning around to see who came in. “Glad you could make it. What took you so long?” 

“You’re late,” commented Kunikida after looking over at the new arrival. “The newcomer you invited caused a scene while you were out doing who knows what. Hurry up and take care of it.” 

The tall man scratched his head and muttered, “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

The ceiling lights gradually illuminated the man’s face as he walked farther into the café. That man was— 

Nighttime rendered the seaside warehouse district the darkest place in the world. Neither streetlights nor moonlight reached this pitch-black abyss so dark you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of you. 

Just then, several screams rang out. 

“Somebody, help!” 

“Ahhh! Stay back!” 

“Help me! Please…! Anybody!” 

Their simultaneous cries were reminiscent of a battle hymn, with the sounds of something breaking, shattering, and a sticky substance splattering across the floor serving as the musical accompaniment. 

And yet, none of these noises could disturb the silence outside of the warehouse district. Every single sound was absorbed by the dense, heavy darkness like a sponge. 

They were in a spacious warehouse used for storing imported goods. Inside were countless wooden boxes stacked on shelves all the way to the ceiling. The pitch-black sky of the new moon loomed cruelly over the skylight on the building’s high ceiling. 

“Stop! Stay back! Stay back! No…! I don’t wanna die! No, no, no! Don’t do this! I—” 

One by one, the screams vanished into the abyss as gunfire created sporadic bursts of light. The flickering clearly illuminated the individuals’ faces with each shot. They were mercenaries—a fully armed platoon of over twenty seasoned soldiers who were frantically trying to escape the darkness. 

“Don’t shoot! You’ll hit one of our men!” shouted a soldier. “Bullets don’t work on him! Switch to armor-piercing shells! Use your tactical flashlights to locate the target!” 

“I can’t! The enemy will find me if I turn on my flashlight!” 

“The enemy can already see us! If we don’t find them soon, we’re all gonna—” 

Those were the last words he ever spoke. His voice suddenly stopped and was replaced by the sound of his throat being slit. The air whistled out of his lungs in a silent scream. Another scream echoed from behind the group, causing them all to turn around. 

It was a white beast. 

The creature, practically the size of a small car, was on top of one of the soldiers. It sank its enormous jaws into the soldier’s throat. 

“He’s here! Fire! Fire!!” 

Everyone fired their gun at the beast in unison, but it twisted its head, snapping the victim’s neck in half before nimbly leaping back into the darkness, leaving the soldier’s body behind to be pelted by countless bullets. The firing soon stopped, and darkness returned. It was as if the beast had vanished into thin air. 

“It… It wasn’t just a rumor…!” yelled one soldier on the verge of tears. “He’s real—the beast of calamity…the Port Mafia’s White Reaper really does exist…” 

The sounds of cracking and shrieking reverberated in sequence from every direction. The mercenaries couldn’t even make a defensive formation because they had no idea where the enemy was. They couldn’t even choose a direction to retreat in. All they could hear over their two-way radios was screaming and shouting. This was no longer a battle but a slaughter, nothing more than the natural outcome of mere humans trying to fight against darkness itself. 

“Fall back! Regroup!” the leader desperately shouted into his handheld transceiver. “There won’t be anyone to stop the Port Mafia’s invasion if we lose here! Your superiors, your friends—everyone is gonna be sent home in a body bag with our heads removed if we don’t stop that thing!” He continued yelling orders as he pulled the pin out of a flash-bang grenade. 

“When I give the signal, the Odd Squad will fall back to the entrance while the Even Squad provides covering fire!” 

After the leader threw the grenade, it exploded in midair, releasing a blinding flash produced by magnesium reacting to oxygen. The room immediately lit up as if it were high noon. 

“Now! Fire!” 

The leader’s frantic shout echoed throughout the storehouse until it was swallowed by the abyss. Not a single gunshot could be heard. 

“The hell is going on? Even Squad, I said…” His frustrated voice gradually withered as he came to a certain realization. “Don’t tell me…” 

Something quietly emerged from the darkness before him. Its white forelimbs didn’t even make a sound. Its eyes burned gold as a soldier’s forearm dangled from its bloodied jaw. This was a giant, carnivorous beast with white fur. 

That was when the leader realized there would be no gunfire, for there wasn’t a single living soldier left in the warehouse. 

“Is everyone…? Is everyone dead…?” 

“That’s right,” replied the white beast. 

Startled, the leader aimed the muzzle of his gun at the beast, but what the attached tactical flashlight illuminated was no beast but a boy. He had white hair, and his bangs were cut with a slant, which complemented his innocent features. He wore a black overcoat that went all the way up to his throat, almost completely covering his entire body as it fluttered in the faint breeze. 

“So it was true…,” babbled the leader in shock. “The White Tiger—the Port Mafia’s White Reaper—really is just a boy.” 

The youth gently nodded. “This is the end,” he declared softly. “You plotted to assassinate Port Mafia’s boss. I’m impressed you were able to keep it a secret from us until the actual day of the assassination. You’re a real professional.” 

There was no animosity in his eyes, nor was there any sadistic pleasure from slaughtering others. An overpowering silence and darkness enveloped the boy—both a blessing and a curse in equal measure. 

“But while you and your men are professional assassins, our boss is also a professional…when it comes to people attempting to assassinate him. Highly trained killers sneak into our base almost every day in an attempt to take his life, but not one has ever been successful. Most don’t even make it past the lobby on the first floor…just like your group.” 

“…You little shit…” 

The leader noticed his fingers were trembling. The hands of a seasoned soldier, who had fought in countless battles against numerous armies and yet never broke into a cold sweat in his life, were shaking before a mere teenager. 

This teenage boy, however, didn’t look human. He was death itself, here to respectfully see the man off to his grave. 

In which case… 

“I’ve been waiting for you, Reaper.” 

The leader then pulled a wireless device around the size of his fist out of his pocket. 

“We may have no chance of winning now, but that doesn’t mean we have to lose.” 

The Port Mafia teenager narrowed his eyes. 

“Do you know what this is? It’s a detonator.” The leader pressed the button on the device with his thumb. “Did you really think we just randomly chose this warehouse as our war zone? This building is where we store our explosives, and this is the detonator to every bomb in here.” 

The teenager’s eyes flickered a dark golden hue, and his pupils stretched into slits like a cat’s. 

“What—?” 

“That’s far enough, kid.” 

The platoon leader raised the device into the air, showing his thumb already pressing the button. 

“You see this? They call this a dead man’s switch. The bombs don’t detonate the moment you push the switch. They detonate when you take your finger off it. In other words, if you kill me, then my finger’s coming off this button, and I’m turning you into dust with me.” 

If the teenager were to kill the leader, then everyone would die in the blast or when the building came crumbling down. If he were to run, the leader would detonate the bombs, and everyone would still die. Even trying to steal the detonator would result in pulling the man’s finger off the button, and once again, everyone would die. 

“I’m a soldier, and I plan on dying that way.” 

The platoon leader grabbed his gun with his free hand while the other was still pressing down the button on the detonator. 

“I am going to fight and die on the battlefield alongside my comrades. But it won’t be that bad, seeing as I get to take you along with me.” 

“I see you’re not afraid of dying. I’m jealous,” admitted the teenager with hint of sorrow—or perhaps some kind of similar emotion—in his voice. “Because I’m afraid to die. I’m afraid to get hurt. I’m afraid to get shot and bleed. That’s why I became the Reaper…because if I merge with death itself, then death will never be able to find me.” 

“You’re ‘afraid to die’? Are you saying that’s why you killed my men?” The leader squinted. “I guess that means releasing this button can instill fear in you, huh? Couldn’t ask for a better reward.” 

He briefly smirked with a slight twitch of his lip, then let go of the button. 

“…” 

Nothing happened. The platoon leader looked at his thumb…but it was still pushing down the button. He pulled his hand away to peel it off the button, but his thumb and the detonator remained floating in the air. 

“N-no…” 

A white blade had quietly slid through the base of his thumb, cutting it clean off. He reflexively tried to shoot his gun with his other hand, but his finger was already missing. His index finger, which was touching the trigger, was now lying on the floor. 

“Can I kill him?” asked a young voice. 

A shadowy figure that melted into the darkness even more fluidly than the tiger had was gently clutching the leader’s thumb and detonator. 

“There’s no need, Kyouka,” the boy replied softly. 

A white hand and white dagger emerged from the darkness behind the platoon leader with its sharp point aimed precisely at his throat. Hiding in the darkness, the dagger’s wielder was a teenage girl wearing a kimono. She had long, jet-black hair and chillingly pale, almost porcelain skin. 

“But he tried to kill you,” complained the girl called Kyouka, her voice as quiet as snow gently falling upon the ground. 

“I know. But the boss gave orders to let one go. He wants one of them alive so they can go tell their superiors how easily their platoon was slaughtered.” 

“But…,” the girl said in a childish tone. She shifted her dagger slightly and faintly pressed it into the leader’s throat, drawing blood. 

“It’s fine. He’ll never again be able to hold a gun without those fingers, so we don’t have to worry about him ever coming back for revenge.” 

The girl tilted her head to the side somewhat, and her pitch-black hair lightly brushed against her cheek. Her complexion was so translucent that it was as if she were about to vanish into thin air. 

“Well, if he isn’t a threat to you…,” said the girl, hardly even moving her lips as she slipped her dagger back into her pocket. She then backed away from the platoon leader with a flowing motion reminiscent of plankton in the ocean depths. 

“Thanks.” 

The girl’s expression remained unchanged, but her eyes gave the impression that she was smiling. 

“Th-this can’t…be happening…,” the leader painfully moaned as he applied pressure onto the nubs where his fingers used to be. “The assassin girl…Kyouka Izumi…? The ‘Thirty-Five-Man Killer’…? Impossible… Why is she with Port Mafia’s White Reaper? I thought she betrayed the Mafia and disappeared…!” 

“She did betray the Mafia once,” answered the boy. 

“But I came back.” Kyouka gently nestled against the boy. “Everything I did…was for him.” 

They were both still. It was as if the warehouse grew even more still each time the two pale figures spoke amid the shadows. 

“You said you planned on dying like a soldier, and I respect that. Therefore, if you wish to fight a battle you have no chance of winning, then you’re free to do so,” the boy suggested in almost a whisper. “So if you do decide to fight me, I’ll have no choice but to do everything in my power to kill you so that I can avoid death.” 

The platoon leader glared at both skill users with bloodshot eyes, but he eventually dropped his shoulders. 

The light sound of metal sliding across the floor spoke for the platoon leader. He had thrown his gun down. 

“Thank you very much.” 

After bowing, the boy began walking toward the exit, and Kyouka followed him. They walked right past the soldier without even glancing in his direction as they slowly approached the door. The platoon leader then turned around and stared at their backs. They walked away as if there was no longer anybody behind them. 

“Hey, kid… What’s your name?” asked the platoon leader. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he got one, surprisingly. 

“Atsushi Nakajima.” 

The young man’s clear voice reverberated throughout the room. 

Atsushi Nakajima… 

The soldier could feel it in his gut: That name and what happened tonight was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He would be overcome with fear every time he saw darkness or a wild animal. He might never again sleep soundly through the night as the smell of blood and fear would surely haunt him in his nightmares. His life as a soldier ended here. He would never be able to recover from this. 

The platoon leader dropped to his knees. Even after the footsteps faded into the distance and the dark silence returned, he remained curled up in a ball, trembling like a child. 

After retiring from the warehouse, Kyouka and Atsushi walked down the path along the seaside, coldly lit under the streetlamps. But less than a minute later, Atsushi suddenly lost his balance and fell to his knees. 

“Are you okay?” 

Kyouka rushed over. 

“I-I’m…fine, Kyouka,” Atsushi painfully moaned. “I was just…transformed…for a long time tonight… That’s all…” 

Kyouka swiftly opened Atsushi’s overcoat, exposing his neck, which was hidden beneath his tall stand-up collar. 

A large, sturdy iron choker was strapped around Atsushi’s neck. Both sides were adorned with clawlike spikes. Each spike dug into his skin, sending several streams of blood trickling down his body. 

“You need to take that off.” 

Kyouka reached out to remove the choker. 

“It’s fine.” Atsushi groaned in agony. “Without this restraint and the pain…I can’t control the tiger’s power. I’d be putting you in danger if I ever lost control.” 

“But—” 

“Allow us to take you back, Sir Atsushi.” 

A group of men in black suits were standing in the darkness where the streetlamps’ light couldn’t reach. 

“Hiro…tsu…” Atsushi painfully smirked while holding the back of his neck. “And everyone in Black Lizard, too… Thanks for…keeping watch for us…” 

The dozen or so suited men bowed in unison. 

“It appears you have annihilated the enemy as planned. Excellent work, sir.” The middle-aged gentleman standing at the head of the group faintly nodded at Atsushi. “Now, if you would please come back with us to headquarters for treatment. You can report to the boss after that.” 

“All right,” Atsushi said with a nod. “The boss’s plan went smoothly as always… We lured the enemy into the darkness and annihilated them. He even knew where to place Kyouka…because he saw through their bomb tactic.” 

Atsushi unsteadily pushed off his knee and stood back up. 

“I need to see the boss right away. I’ve already got another mission lined up,” said Atsushi while looking straight ahead. “That man saved me from hell and let me join the organization. Whatever he wants me to do, I do.” 

Atsushi then began to walk, carrying the weight of darkness on his shoulders but wearing an innocent expression on his face. 

“Tell the boss—tell Dazai I’ll be there soon.” 

The door to the café opened, and a tall man walked inside. 

“Oh,” squeaked Tanizaki after turning around to see who came in. “Glad you could make it. What took you so long?” 

“You’re late,” commented Kunikida after looking over at the new arrival. “The newcomer you invited caused a scene while you were out doing who knows what. Hurry up and take care of it.” 

The tall man scratched his head and muttered, “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

He tottered over to their table, faced the waitress who had tripped a moment ago and was exhaustingly wiping the floor, then quietly placed his order: “I’ll have the curry.” 

He then took a seat next to Akutagawa. Dressed in a sand-colored coat, the man had reddish-copper hair and a five-o’clock shadow. It was difficult to get a read on him from his expression. It always seemed that he was both concentrating on something, yet thinking about nothing at the same time. 

“So? Why were you late, Oda?” asked Kunikida. 

“The old lady at the tobacco shop down the street kept talking and wouldn’t let me go,” Oda said simply. 

“Again?” Kunikida frowned. “Chatty old folks really seem to like you. At any rate, although it’s wonderful that you respect your elders, you can’t be three hours late to work. You have to start saying no to them from time to time.” 

“I did. Nobody takes me seriously,” Oda replied, looking incredulous. 

“I really can’t tell when you’re being serious sometimes…,” replied Kunikida with a troubled stare. “At least make it look like you’re not enjoying yourself so they’ll realize you want to go home.” 

“I do, but nobody notices.” 

“Really? Show me.” 

Oda stared blankly at Kunikida in silence. After a few seconds had passed, Kunikida’s expression turned suspicious, and he asked, “How much longer is this going to take?” 

“I’m doing it right now.” 

“Oh… Uh-huh…,” replied Kunikida with an exhausted sigh. 

Tanizaki noticed the troubled looks on their faces and tried to change the subject. 

“Uh… Akutagawa, I’m sure you already know who he is, but allow me to formally introduce you. This is Sakunosuke Oda. He’s been a detective at the agency for two years now, and from today on, he’s going to be your mentor.” 

“I look forward to working with you, Oda.” Akutagawa bowed his head reverently. 

“Me too.” Oda nodded without changing his expression. “You been eating?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

Right after Oda nodded, the waitress gently placed his plate of curry in front of him. Oda gave her an acknowledging look. 

“If you hadn’t found me, I would have surely perished at that riverbank,” said Akutagawa. 

Watching Akutagawa submissively lower his head, Kunikida mentioned, “Oda has a habit of going out of his way to help orphans in need, after all.” 

“I just felt like it,” commented Oda before digging his silver spoon into the curry and taking a bite. “…This curry isn’t spicy. At all. Did they give me something off the kids’ menu?” 

Oda turned around in his seat and called out to the waitress standing in the back. 

“Excuse me, waitress? Do you think you could switch this—?” 

That was when Akutagawa attacked Oda using one of his deadly cloth blades without any warning, seemingly out of the blue. Its sharp point was aimed straight for Oda’s head; Oda wouldn’t see it coming from his blind spot. One hit, and Oda would be swiftly and silently decapitated. 

Oda used his spoon to parry the blade and send it off course…all without even looking back at what was attacking him. The cloth blade passed right by his face, scorching the air. After glancing in its direction, Oda continued, “Do you think you could switch this curry out for something a little spicier?” 

The waitress let him know she would be right back with a spicy curry. 

“What…?” 

Meanwhile, the detectives watching the attempted murder froze in mute amazement. Eventually, Kunikida managed to squeak, “What the hell was that?” 

“It’s not curry if it isn’t spicy,” Oda replied, turning to his fellow detective. 

“That’s not what I meant!” shouted Kunikida. “New guy! What the hell did you just do?! Because to me, it was pretty clear you were trying to slice off his head!” 

“Why do you ask?” answered Akutagawa as two more blades of fabric pierced the air. The gray blades were precisely aimed for Oda’s face and heart, but Oda slightly tilted his head to the side and leaned back, dodging both attacks. Not once did Oda ever even glance at the blades. 

“Hey!” 

“He suddenly tried to attack me when I found him at the riverbank,” Oda explained with the utmost nonchalance. “But when I repelled his attacks, he said he wanted me to teach him how to become stronger. I told him I didn’t know how to train people, but I could give him some guidance if he joined the agency. The rest is pretty self-explanatory.” 

Oda gestured at Akutagawa, who nodded back and said, “I am very fortunate. I’ve never met someone as talented as Oda.” 

Meanwhile, Akutagawa swung another blade of fabric at Oda, who smoothly parried it with his spoon. 

“No…no, no, no…” Kunikida shook his head. “While Oda’s skill is extremely powerful…what kind of person tries to attack someone in the middle of a restaurant?! Enough! Go to a dojo if you want to train!” 

“I wouldn’t be going through all this trouble if my enemy was at a dojo,” griped Akutagawa with a piercing glare. “I could be walking down the road when I encounter them, or inside a restaurant, or even inside a train. I need to be prepared to fight regardless of the location, or this will all have been for naught.” 

“Your ‘enemy’?” 

“There are apparently two people he wants to kill,” Oda said while looking at Akutagawa. “That’s why he’s been honing his skill so much.” 

“One of them is a man—I have no idea who he is, nor what he looks like,” added Akutagawa. “I simply call him the ‘man in black.’ He kidnapped my younger sister, so I plan on killing him and saving her.” 

“Your younger sister?” Tanizaki’s eyes opened wide as he stared at Akutagawa. “Oh… No wonder you were so angry earlier when we were talking about my sister.” 

Naomi looked at Akutagawa and asked, “Do you have any idea where she might be? Any leads?” 

“Not the slightest. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.” A faint light wavered in Akutagawa’s normally expressionless eyes. “But I will find her.” 

“So that’s why you wanted to join the agency.” Kunikida crossed his arms. “It makes sense. You can browse the city police’s records on missing people at the agency, and you can easily get your hands on information about various underground organizations. However…” 

Tanizaki took over for Kunikida with a troubled expression. 

“It’s not going to be easy finding someone in a big city like this.” 

“Giggle… It appears you’re all forgetting something,” Naomi mirthfully suggested as her lips curled into a grin. “Akutagawa, you made a wise choice joining the agency. And that’s because there isn’t an organization in the world better suited to finding your missing little sister.” 

Naomi looked at everyone in an amused manner, then began speaking in a hushed voice as if she was telling a secret. “Wouldn’t you all agree? You all know as well as I do that he should be able to find Akutagawa’s sister.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“True…” 

“You’re right.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“Akutagawa, you’re going to be reunited with your sister in no time.” Naomi stood up with a smile. “Anyway, shall we go? I’m about to introduce you to the greatest detective in the world!” 

Port Mafia headquarters: a black building that towered over Yokohama’s ritziest neighborhood. The outside looked like any ordinary, well-kept, newly built high-rise, but the inside was an impregnable fortress. The windows were bulletproof and explosion proof while the exterior was made specially to withstand even the impact from a tank. It had the defensive capabilities of a military stronghold. 

Atsushi made his way through the building, passing by several of his silent, armed colleagues. He walked across a fancy high-pile rug fit for a throne room before eventually reaching the end of the hallway, where he stopped before a sturdy double door. 

“Boss, it’s me. Atsushi. I have arrived as requested.” 

A few seconds passed. 

“Come in,” demanded a voice. 

“Yes, sir.” 

There was a unique ambience to the boss’s sizable office space. Every high-end oddity in here was one of a kind, from the candlesticks to the desk in the center of the office. And yet at the same time, each decoration seemed somehow out of place, as if they’d wandered into this room by mistake. The presence of death filled the space. 

The floor and ceiling were black. All four walls were black. One of the walls was made of special glass that could turn into a window with a view of the Yokohama skyline, but it hadn’t been used for the past four years. All this was done to protect the current Mafia boss, Dazai, from sniper and artillery fire. 

“Lower your head, captain,” snapped an executive standing in the back of the room. “You’re in the presence of the boss.” 

Atsushi immediately dropped to one knee and deeply bowed his head. “My sincerest apologies.” 

There were two men in the room. One was a Port Mafia executive and envoy standing at attention in the back. He wore a black suit and hat. Despite his youthful appearance, he was the second-highest-ranking executive in the organization and the strongest skill user in the Mafia. 

The other man—the owner of the room—was seated on a black throne in the center. He spoke into his handheld transceiver: “It’s fine, Chuuya. Good work, Atsushi. I’m glad you made it back safely.” 

His voice was both majestic like a king’s and cruel like a demon’s. 

Osamu Dazai—the boss of colossal underground organization Port Mafia. 

Even European royalty would covet his black overcoat and shoes, which were of the highest quality. 

“Th-thank you…very much, Dazai,” Atsushi nervously stammered with his head still lowered. 

Chuuya’s deep voice immediately chimed in: “Scuse me, errand boy? You got a death wish? You address him as ‘boss.’” 

“Come on, Chuuya. It’s fine,” Dazai assured him while crossing his legs. “Anyway, I want to talk with him alone, so go wait outside.” 

“The hell?! Why?!” shouted Chuuya with a crudeness that wasn’t present only moments ago. “What’s gotten into you? He ain’t an executive or your secretary. The kid’s just an ordinary grunt. Hell, the fact that he’s even getting to see you makes this a special case as is.” 

“What makes you say that? I trust Atsushi.” 

“Trust don’t mean shit. What if he’s being controlled by someone’s skill or if someone planted a bomb on him? Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, so there’s no way I’m leavin’ you alone in here with him. I won’t allow it.” 

Dazai smiled and looked at Chuuya. 

“You won’t ‘allow it’? I’m not asking for permission, Chuuya. You’re an executive, and I’m the boss. And in the Mafia, orders must be followed at all costs. We must respect the chain of command.” 

Chuuya remained silent with a look of clear discontent for a few moments before eventually storming off. 

“Yeah, right. Do whatever you want,” he muttered as he strode past Atsushi. But after walking past him, he briefly stopped. 

“Don’t even think about killing him, flunky…’cause I’m gonna be the one who kills him someday,” hissed Chuuya without even looking back at Atsushi. He then wildly threw the door open and marched out. 

“Good grief… He hates me so much that he wants me dead, yet he has to protect me since I’m the boss. Seeing Chuuya struggle with both extremes is fun and all, but…I think he goes a little overboard sometimes.” 

Dazai wryly smirked, then faced Atsushi once more. 

“Make yourself comfortable, Atsushi.” 

Atsushi stood, then wrapped his arms behind his back. 

“Anyway, I heard about the mission. You annihilated the entire platoon with the exception of one soldier, yes?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“The enemy platoon you defeated was a group of mercenaries hired by a foreign military clique in the settlement, but I’m sure there’s a certain cabinet minister actually pulling the strings behind the scenes,” commented Dazai in a gentle voice while he recrossed his long legs. “We spent the past four years practically barring them from the nearby coasts. Must’ve caused them quite the headache—hence why they tried to kill me. Unfortunately for that minister, however, the attack ended in failure. I’m sure he has no end of headaches now,” joked Dazai before narrowing his eyes in glee. 

Four years had gone by since Dazai took over for the previous boss, and ever since then, Port Mafia’s authority had expanded rapidly and exponentially. The courts, distribution, banks, urban development—there wasn’t a single institution within not only Yokohama but also the entire Kanto region that wasn’t influenced by the Port Mafia in some way. The Mafia’s armed forces had grown to rival even those of the government. 

Each one of these great achievements came to fruition only because of the new boss Dazai’s extraordinary talents. Rumor had it he hadn’t even slept a day ever since taking over from Mori four years ago. 

“Now…let me explain your next mission. Phase two of the plan ended with Akutagawa joining a Yokohama detective agency, so it’s time to prepare for phase three.” 

“‘Detective agency’? ‘Phase three’?” Atsushi curiously tilted his head to the side. “What are you talking about?” 

“This is big, Atsushi. So big it’ll make your head spin.” Dazai smiled. “And your work is essential to realizing this plan. I’m counting on you, Atsushi—you’re the Port Mafia’s White Reaper, a fearless assassin who slaughters his foes without even batting an eye.” 

Atsushi carefully listened to those ominous words as they resonated throughout the room before being absorbed and disappearing into the walls and floor. He then said, “I’m not fearless.” 

His voice was quiet and barren, like the bleached bones of the deceased on a battlefield after war. 

“I’m a coward. I’m terrified of bleeding or being shot.” 

“But according to the report, you annihilated seasoned soldiers without showing an ounce of emotion.” 

“Yes… As scary as fighting is, I never sweat or even shake during battle. Just like a calm lake, I don’t even react to what’s happening…and it’s been that way ever since that day.” 

Dazai squinted his eyes sharply. “Ever since ‘that day,’ huh?” he said. “You mean the day you ignored my orders?” 

All emotion began fading from Atsushi’s expression. His already stolid visage withered until there was no discernible expression left. 

“I…” His voice trembled. “I—That—What happened that day…” 

Atsushi bent over and wrapped his arms around himself. His fingers were uncontrollably trembling as they dug into his joints so tightly that they turned white. He was shaking out of fear. His soul was crying out over something even deeper than death—true terror. 

“No, I… I—” 

“I agree that you’re timid by nature. You always used to search for an escape route even when face-to-face with an enemy. You were a scared little boy. But that day changed you. Do you know why?” 

Atsushi was still trembling. Cold sweat rapidly dripped down the back of his neck. 

“The only way to overcome fear is through fear itself. And ever since that day, you’ve been in constant terror, never allowing yourself so much as a moment to rest…which has thus robbed you of your ability to fear anything else. Never will guns, knives, or an enemy’s bloodlust ever reach the depths of your heart—because a truly monstrous fear already lies within.” 

Dazai stared icily at Atsushi, but Atsushi wasn’t listening. His legs were trembling as cold sweat poured off his body. He seemed to be on the verge of passing out at any moment. 

“So you’re still unable to escape that particular fear, huh? …The one born from his death.” 

“N-no, I—I’m not a-afraid of…” 

Atsushi curled up into a ball on the floor, unable to keep his entire body from trembling any longer. 

“Please…give me orders…Dazai,” Atsushi somehow managed to stammer despite his chattering teeth. “Right now. I’ll never…go against orders…again. Never… Never again…” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” claimed Dazai as he coldly looked down at Atsushi. “My secretary will give you the necessary documentation. You’ll find the details of your mission inside.” 

A female secretary suddenly appeared from the back door without even making a sound. She was a quiet girl around the same age as Atsushi. She wore a black suit that fit like a second skin and had long black hair tied into a ponytail. Although she was simply standing in place, it was as if her eyes were absorbing all the sound around her. 

“Gin, dear, hand me the map and letter.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The secretary Gin handed Dazai a black envelope. Dazai then faced Atsushi and said: 

“Atsushi, your next target is…the Armed Detective Agency.” 

The Armed Detective Agency’s headquarters was a mess. Office supplies cluttered the spacious fourth floor of the multi-tenant building where the clerks briskly worked away at their desks. The agency staff were mainly split into two groups: clerks and detectives. The former were in charge of accounting, handling documents, communicating and negotiating with clients, and information processing. The detectives were the ones actually involved in the investigations, from rushing to the scene of the incident to solving cases. Due to the nature of their work, every detective possessed some sort of unique skill. 

…That is, everyone but him. 

“A missing person? No thanks. I’d rather not,” grumbled Ranpo Edogawa. He had his feet kicked up on the desk and was licking a lollipop. 

“Ranpo, please… Could you make an exception?” 

Surrounding Ranpo with peeved expressions on their faces were the same five people who were just at the café together: Tanizaki, Oda, Kunikida, Akutagawa, and Naomi. 

“The new guy Akutagawa was separated from his little sister,” said Tanizaki in an attempt to mediate. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing if something terrible’s happened to her… She was apparently kidnapped by a man in black.” 

Ranpo’s eyebrow twitched. He continued staring at the ceiling but shifted his gaze to his right, then to the left, then back to his right before asking, “Got a name? What’s the guy look like?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Akutagawa. “But I would recognize his voice anywhere.” 

“Sigh…” 

Ranpo leaned his head back and let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“Why’s the world gotta be filled only with fools, ignoramuses, and screwups?” 

“What?” Akutagawa narrowed his eyes sharply. “Are you implying that I’m one of those?” 

“Hey, now. Come on,” pleaded Tanizaki in a fluster as he tried to calm him down. 

“Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once,” began Ranpo as he straightened up. “I may be the greatest detective in the world, but I don’t investigate cases I’m not interested in. In other words, this is your problem.” 

“There’s no need for an investigation,” argued Akutagawa with a pale expression. “I will find my sister—I will find Gin on my own.” 

After heaving another sigh, Ranpo whipped out a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the desk. Akutagawa glanced at it, then fixed his eyes on Ranpo once more. 

“What’s this?” 

“It’s an OK Card,” said Ranpo. 

“…A what?” 

Twirling the lollipop in his mouth, Ranpo insouciantly replied, “I happened to hear about your motive for joining the agency beforehand, so I knew you would come to see me sooner or later. So I did some prior research and have a rough idea where she is… Your sister’s alive.” 

“What?!” Akutagawa suddenly leaned forward. “Where is she?! Where is Gin?!” 

“That’s where the card comes in.” 

Akutagawa looked down at the card once more. It was a palm-sized, rectangular white sheet of paper separated into six boxes. 

“You need to explain the situation to each detective in the agency and get them to stamp that card. Once you get everyone’s OK stamp, we’ll help you find your sister. By the way, the president already stamped it.” 

In one of the six boxes was a fresh stamp with the letters OK. The other five spaces, however, were still blank. 

“The stamp’s requirements are written on the back of the OK Card. For the most part, you’ll need to satisfy a condition or do something for someone to get them to stamp that card. What exactly you’ll be required to do…is largely left to the discretion of each detective,” admitted Ranpo as he took out a wooden stamp and rolled it across the desk. 

“In other words, I need everyone’s permission to learn the whereabouts of my sister,” said Akutagawa as he appeared to be deep in thought. “But why has the president already given me his stamp?” 

“’Cause I’m an amazing detective,” argued Ranpo as he licked his lollipop. “Besides, it was actually the president’s idea to make that card in the first place. When I spoke to him about your situation, he told me to see that everyone welcomes and accepts the newcomer. And, well, I can’t say no to the boss.” 

Akutagawa stared pensively at the card for a few moments, until all of a sudden, he grabbed it, his mind made up. 

“Four and a half years. I have been searching for my sister for four and a half years. Ever since then I’ve been torn in half, bleeding imperceptibly from my severed body… Getting a few stamps on a piece of paper is nothing.” 

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Ranpo smirked. “Good luck, new guy. But, well…” 

Ranpo paused, and his expression grew serious. Then, almost prophetically, he said: 

“…the real suffering’s gonna start after you get everyone’s stamps.” 

It took around four straight weeks for Akutagawa to collect every stamp. The first to comply was Tanizaki. He didn’t require anything in return. After hearing about the card, he immediately stamped it right in front of Ranpo. 

“If I were in your position…” Tanizaki grinned as he spoke. “If Naomi were ever kidnapped, I probably wouldn’t be able to wait until I got all the stamps. I bet I’d try to beat it out of Ranpo if he knew where she was, so I really respect you, Akutagawa. That’s why I don’t need anything else in return.” 

Akutagawa calmly watched as Tanizaki bashfully stamped the card. He then glanced down at it before looking back up at Tanizaki. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Can I offer you some advice, though?” Tanizaki’s eyes were completely serious as he handed Akutagawa the card. “When you do find your sister…don’t hold back if the man in black tries to get in your way. Forget about your duties as a detective and what’s socially acceptable. And if you end up killing him, remember that it’s not your fault. No justice or morals are more important than your sister.” 

“Hey, now,” Kunikida interjected with a frown, but he didn’t say anything else after that. After accepting the card, Akutagawa replied, “Understood. If I manage to safely rescue my sister, you will be the first person I notify, Tanizaki.” 

The next person to stamp the card was the youngest detective in the agency: Kenji Miyazawa. 

“I don’t mind stamping the card right now, but…,” Kenji began in his cheerful, boyish voice. “Ranpo said to come up with some sort of requirement first…and there is a small task I need help with… Ms. Maeda mentioned she has some simple farmwork she wants done. Do you think you could help me? And you don’t need to worry if it’s your first time because I can teach you! It’s all really simple. Anyone can do it!” 

The task was rice planting. 

Akutagawa’s expression as he stared at vast fields of rice paddies would become the stuff of legend at the detective agency. It would be the first and last time Akutagawa, who was typically expressionless, appeared utterly lost. 

“Now let’s get started!” Kenji cheerfully suggested. He was in his workwear and long boots. “Don’t worry! If we wake up early and work until the agency opens…we should be done by next week or the week after that!” 

It wasn’t a mere one or two rice paddies. In the valley surrounded by mountains were beautiful paddy fields as far as the eye could see. 

Are two weeks even enough? 

Akutagawa’s lips mouthed those words, but he did not speak—or perhaps couldn’t. 

“Hey, uh…? Are you sure you want to help?” Kenji apologetically asked. “I know you’re probably in a hurry, so…do you want to do something else instead?” 

Akutagawa sternly glared at the rice fields for a few moments until eventually saying, “I was the one who said I would work in exchange for your stamp. Besides, where I come from, those who didn’t treat food with respect were the first to perish… I can do this.” 

He then faced the fields and took a step forward. 

“Ack! You can’t work dressed like that,” Kenji said with a laugh. “You should definitely change into the work wear and long boots I got you. Oh, and this straw hat, too! You’re gonna look great! I promise!” 

“…” 

The first day, Akutagawa simply learned the process from Kenji and prepared for the tasks ahead. The second day, he hurt his lower back doing work he wasn’t used to. He rested on the third and fourth day. On the fifth day, he learned how to transplant rice seedlings with his skill, so his efficiency increased exponentially. Kenji mirthfully clapped his hands together and praised him. 

Akutagawa spent his days testing his skill’s speed against a borrowed rice transplant machine, keeping watch to make sure there was no flooding on rainy days, and eating the rice balls the fields’ owner made for him. He quietly worked away without showing so much as a hint of displeasure. 

“This takes me back to when I grew potatoes behind my place in the slums,” noted Akutagawa while he gazed at the fields. 

He ran into trouble on the tenth day, though. When he headed to the fields that day, more than half the rice they planted had turned black and died. After examining the rice for some time, Kenji mentioned that the service water was most likely the cause. When they headed over to the main irrigation canal to check, they discovered factory waste that had been illegally dumped upstream and had leaked harmful soluble organic substances into the water. 

The detective agency almost immediately uncovered who was behind this criminal activity after thoroughly investigating the containers the waste was in. It was a drug manufacturer with a large-scale factory. Around half the fields were ruined now. Unfortunately, the only paddies affected were the ones Kenji and Akutagawa had already worked on. 

“Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. At least we can still finish the paddies that haven’t been ruined yet,” said Kenji. 

Akutagawa wasn’t having it, though. The next day, he marched right into the drug manufacturer’s factory alone, choking the guards unconscious with his skill as he headed for the office floor. It was clear who planned the illegal dump the moment he checked the management chart, but he wanted to figure out who gave the orders, so he planned on beating that information out of the employee responsible. Akutagawa had every intention of doing this until he figured out who was truly pulling the strings behind the scenes. 

But right as Akutagawa was about to open the door to the office and go inside, someone called out to him from behind and stopped him. Standing there were Kenji, Tanizaki, and Oda. 

“Let’s go home,” suggested Kenji. 

“This is nothing, really,” Kenji assured Akutagawa as they walked back home. “Natural disasters are far more brutal and unfair: flooding, cold-weather damage, drought, pests. Sometimes, you spend years working on something, only for it to be wiped out in a single night. But half the crops survived this time. Plus, the agency will be able to sue the criminal for damages once we prove who was behind the illegal dumping. It’s not like we can get any compensation from the sun or insects, so we should consider ourselves lucky.” 

“It still doesn’t sit well with me.” Akutagawa fixed Kenji with a piercing gaze. “Compensation? So you’re permitted to do evil as long as you pay for it? That means the rich can do anything they want. Perhaps there’s only one thing in this world that can deter acts of evil: retaliation. Display your enemy’s head by the roadside for all to see. Punish and instill fear into your foes. There is no other way to protect yourself…and there never was.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. You’re probably right,” replied Kenji after pondering for a brief moment. 

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. They continued walking in silence until eventually, they found themselves back at the rice-field paddies. The reddish-orange evening sun glittered off the water filling each paddy as the shadow of night slowly crept over the mountains’ ridges. 

“Night will fall, and morning will break,” began Kenji while gazing at the paddies. “Spring will come, then autumn. Everything happens in halves: Plants grow; then they wither away. Animals produce offspring, then perish…becoming the soil that we live on. I’ve gradually learned over time that nature works in halves like that. When something awful happens—like a storm or mudslide—it sometimes feels like the bad stuff is never going to end. But nature is both the good and the bad… That’s what it means to live. At least, that’s how we view things in my village.” 

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” admitted Akutagawa as he gazed at the same scenery. “Blessings and misfortune are divided equally in halves? Tell that to my friends who died in the slums.” 

“You’re the other half, Akutagawa.” Kenji looked at him. “You survived, and you developed an incredible skill. Everyone passed the good half on to you. That’s why…” 

Kenji paused and smiled as the evening sun glowed in his eyes. 

“That’s why I just know you’ll get your sister back. A lot of good things are waiting for you now. That’s what nature’s all about.” 

Akutagawa stared at Kenji for a few moments as if he was scrutinizing those words before eventually turning his gaze at the setting sun. 

“I see,” Akutagawa replied in a hushed tone. “My friends who perished gave me their half.” 

The ridges of the mountaintops were slowly swallowed by the violet night. Nobody said another word. 

It took both of them four days to finish the rest of the rice planting. Kunikida paid them a visit on the last day to see how things were going, but when he arrived, he found them chatting while covered in mud. 

“If you ever want to check whether the crops are doing well, then that’s the bug you want to eat! These little guys taste great boiled if your field’s healthy.” 

“Interesting. When I was struggling to find food, I used to dig up insects and eat them. The mountains in the untouched countryside always had far tastier larvae than any man-made forest or farmland.” 

“Let me treat you to some salt-grilled ones next time you’re free!” 

“I look forward to it.” 

As he watched their exchange, Kunikida muttered in blank amazement, “They’re…getting along…” 

Akutagawa received Kenji’s stamp after they finished transplanting the rest of the rice. 

“The owner’s going to give us a whopping ten percent of the rice when it’s ready, so I hope you’re looking forward to gaining some weight,” Kenji joked in the agency’s hallway with a smile. 

“It appears I won’t need to worry about starving for quite some time,” replied Akutagawa. 

Kunikida happened to be passing by just then, so Akutagawa asked him how the investigation on the illegal dumping was going. 

“We’re on the verge of solving it,” replied Kunikida. He then quietly stared at Akutagawa for a few moments and asked, “Did…you get a tan?” 

“No,” replied Akutagawa. 

“But I can see the outline of your shirt on your nec—” 

“I didn’t get a tan,” Akutagawa answered shortly, his expression blank. 

“Are you sure? Well, if you say so… At any rate, you don’t need to worry about the illegal dumping case—it’s essentially over and done with. The carrier who transported the waste confessed to everything. All that’s left is to obtain an arrest warrant for the drug company responsible.” 

“That is excellent news. But what made the carrier confess to the crime so easily? Selling out your client is supposed to be taboo among career criminals.” 

Kunikida’s lips curled into a faint smile. 

“It’s simple. Nobody in this city is going to make Kenji angry if they know what’s good for them.” 

It was Kunikida’s turn next. He had already decided what he was going to request from Akutagawa the moment he heard Ranpo explain the OK Card. It was something that he had originally envisioned over a year ago, so when everyone heard about Akutagawa having to earn the stamps, they thought: Yep, I can already imagine what Kunikida has in mind. 

Early the next morning at six thirty in the Armed Detective Agency’s dormitory: 

“Hey, new guy! It’s time to leave for work! Get up and get dressed!” 

Kunikida’s bellow echoed throughout the dormitory. 

“You’re already two minutes and thirty seconds behind wake-up time! You’ll be following my schedule for the next two weeks starting today! You’re going to set a precedent and put an end to our detectives’ overly lax work ethic!” shouted Kunikida while he pointed at his watch. “Now get up! You have twenty-two minutes for breakfast, eighteen to get dressed, sixteen minutes and thirty seconds to arrive at the office, and six minutes and ten seconds of preparation before you start your work! Plans only have meaning when they’re flawless! Got it? Now hurry and—” 

“Up here,” came a voice from above. Akutagawa was gazing at the morning sun from atop the roof. His gray overcoat fluttered in the brisk morning breeze. He watched unblinkingly as the warm sunlight slowly illuminated the rooftops of the buildings below, his motionless figure reminiscent of a king gazing upon his kingdom. 

“You’re…already awake?” 

“I’m a light sleeper,” replied Akutagawa while he continued to watch the morning break. “Therefore, I spend early mornings taking in the city like this, awaiting any hints of impending dangers or trouble that may appear along with the morning sun: the sound of a getaway car screeching off, the smell of spilled fuel oil floating through the air, overcapacity transport ships’ steam whistles…” 

He paused for a moment and looked down at Kunikida standing in front of the dormitory. 

“Time to head for work, you say? Let’s go.” 

Akutagawa used his skill to lift his body into the air and nimbly lower himself to the surface. 

“All right… Did you already finish breakfast?” asked Kunikida. 

“I’m fine.” 

“What? Absolutely not. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Without it, you won’t be able to jump-start your pancreas to its fullest potential, which would further inhibit your body’s ability to regulate your blood sugar during lunch and dinner. In other words, missing one meal could hinder your performance for the day. Therefore, you need an ideal breakfast for the ideal work—” 

Without even blinking, Akutagawa suddenly walked past Kunikida in the middle of his lecture. 

“Hey, wait! Akutagawa! Ever hear about respecting your elders?!” 

The issue on Kunikida’s mind could be summarized in one sentence: The detectives at the agency lacked discipline. 

The other detectives’ free-spirited work style was always a cause of anxiety for a stickler for infallible business operations like Kunikida. 

The Tanizaki siblings, who were always touchy-feely whether they were in the middle of work or even meeting with a client… 

Oda, who was always late because some old lady in the neighborhood stopped him for a chat… 

Yosano, who always took her patients apart three or four times under the guise of treating them… 

Kenji, who would suddenly disappear after saying his cow went into labor… 

The great detective Ranpo, who doesn’t want to solve any cases that don’t interest him… 

Of course, there was good reason why everyone was allowed to be so lax—hence why the president let them and why Kunikida had no right to suggest they correct their ways. Therefore, he had no choice but to acquiesce. 

However… 

Kunikida’s favorite phrase was “Everything according to plan,” and he disliked phrases such as “Eh. It’ll work out.” He was constantly, tirelessly yearning for the ideal, and he wasn’t going to stop until he obtained perfection—which, in his mind, was something far different from the detective agency’s current status quo. 

“Akutagawa, I am appointing you as the agency’s disciplinarian!” declared Kunikida. 

There is nothing worse as an adult than being called out for lazy work by a newbie. And knowing Akutagawa’s personality, Kunikida figured the boy would be able to denounce others’ transgressions regardless of any hierarchical barriers at the workplace. He was the perfect person for the job. The OK Card was like a gift from god to Kunikida. 

And yet… 

“Listen, Akutagawa. Disciplinarians must first set an example for others. In other words, you need to stick to your work schedule and be punctual. When you arrive at the office, you must first file your paperwork from the previous day and finish all internal communications. You’ll have to regularly check if there are any new cases every day and follow your schedule on a per-minute basis. Optimally allocating your time and executing your plan is the first step to achieving your ideal—” 

“I am not interested in offices or paperwork.” 

“Excuse me? No, you—” 

“More importantly, where is the enemy? I would function better at disposing of the agency’s enemies rather than struggling with cumbersome office work. I shall tear every last one of your foes to shreds.” 

“No, listen, your work isn’t just fighting. It’s—” 

“I shall tear all the paperwork to shreds as well.” 

“Don’t!” 

And it didn’t end there. 

“Look—today you’ll be learning how to properly conduct business here. Our client has asked us to expose a child abduction ring. I’ve invited a witness—a child who was almost a victim himself—to the agency for questioning. However, the boy is only twelve years old, and the event is still fresh in his mind, so be careful with how you phrase your questions.” 

“Hey, kid. Tell me what the person who tried to kidnap you looked like. Now. And don’t tell me you don’t remember—unless you don’t mind being thrown out the fourth-floor window.” 

“Huh?! I—I—I—I—” 

“Don’t threaten him, you idiot! Akutagawa, did you even listen to what I said? Do you want the agency to get sued?!” 

“If you can’t remember, I’ll throw you out the fifth-floor window. If you still can’t remember, I’ll take you up to the sixth floor and the seventh floor after that.” 

“He’d already be dead after you threw him out the fifth-floor window!” 

“Ah. Then the third floor shall do.” 

“What kind of compromise is that?” 

“This is getting us nowhere. I’m just going to find every person who fits the suspect’s description and beat the truth out of them.” 

“It appears I’ll have to help you develop some social skills before we even start working on scheduling…” 

And it simply got worse from there. 

Akutagawa ignored all business procedures. He neglected miscellaneous routine duties. To make a long story short, destruction was his go-to answer for everything. It didn’t matter whether he was talking to a victim, a client, or a criminal. He always tried to use his skill to beat answers out of them. It appeared to be more of an innate trait of his rather than something he learned from his environment or experience. 

When Kunikida pointed out how accepting and tame Akutagawa had been while farming with Kenji, Akutagawa offered a calm response: He personally knew just how important food was due to where he’d grown up. Paperwork, however, doesn’t fill your stomach. He’d tried—many times, in fact—and it still left him hungry. 

Only a week had passed, yet Kunikida’s plan to turn Akutagawa into a model detective was on the verge of falling apart. 

“Akutagawa? Akutagawa! Where are you?!” 

Kunikida came bounding through the agency’s office. 

“Kunikida? Is everything okay?” asked Tanizaki while he was working at his desk. 

“Akutagawa is supposed to be filing paperwork right now, and he’s nowhere to be found! He must have used his skill to remove the restraints around his wrists and ankles, then ran away…” 

Kunikida’s clenched fist was trembling. 

“There’s no going back now! I’ll need to report this to the president… It’s time we assign someone to surveil Akutagawa—the disciplinarian’s disciplinary monitor!” 

“And then who monitors the monitor? That sounds endless…” Tanizaki frowned. “But if you’re looking for Akutagawa, he’s right there.” 

“What?! Where?” 

“There. Look. Right there.” 

Tanizaki pointed at the reception desk used to welcome clients when they arrived on the office floor. Nobody was there…or so Kunikida thought. 

Akutagawa was hiding underneath the desk. He was camouflaged among the shadows, still with that same piercing stare. 

“What…? What are you doing?” 

Kunikida curiously tilted his head to the side. 

“I’m hiding from Dr. Yosano,” Akutagawa replied, his expression and voice equally emotionless. 

“…Pardon?” 

“Apparently, Dr. Yosano said that Akutagawa needed to undergo her healing ability forty times if he wanted her to stamp his OK Card,” mentioned Tanizaki with a sympathetic expression. “Akutagawa readily agreed to undergo the treatment if that’s all it took…but Yosano grabbed a hatchet and an electric saw—” 

“Okay, that’s enough.” Kunikida closed his eyes and shook his head. “I have a good idea of what happened.” 

“I was able to endure it the first four times.” Akutagawa’s sharp gaze glowed within the darkness. “But after that, I… There are realms that one must never venture into. Even if one were to survive, experiencing that forty times would surely send them over the edge.” 

“Not even Akutagawa is a match for her…” Kunikida sighed. “I’d run away, too, but work is still work. Did you forget our promise? We’re going to expose that child kidnapping ring this week, and we are already way behind schedule thanks to you not taking this work seriously. We won’t meet our deadline at this rate. How do y—” 

“The kidnapping ringleaders are in the next room.” 

“What?” 

“I already captured them,” claimed Akutagawa without batting an eye. “If someone is kidnapping children for profit, then there are essentially two main ways to do so: human trafficking and ransoms. The former uses children from poor families while the latter uses children from wealthy ones. I can’t speak for the latter, but having grown up on the streets, I am painfully aware of how these criminals kidnap destitute children. Therefore, I simply followed the trail. I squeezed every scumbag I knew in the slums for information until I was able to identify the man who had recently participated in the kidnappings. I stormed the criminals’ hideout after the man told me its location, and I captured everyone present using my skill… They’ll be judged for their crimes in a court of law, so I spared their lives. I had to slice off a few toes to prevent some of them from escaping, though.” 

Kunikida immediately rushed over to the reception room next door. When he entered, he found five men gagged and hog-tied on the floor. The moment they saw Kunikida, they screamed out with tears welling in their eyes. 

“What the…?” 

The number of suspects and their physical appearances corresponded with the information the agency had obtained during their investigation over the last week. 

“Sigh… He really isn’t going to be able to set an example for the others, is he? I told him to follow the plan.” Kunikida scratched his head with a bitter smirk. “What kind of person cuts business plans short by an entire week?” 

Oda and Akutagawa were sprinting down the culverts under the city of Yokohama. 

Oda moved like the wind through the underdrain, leaping over wire mesh fences and kicking off drainpipes to jump even higher, then rolling forward upon landing to soften the impact. 

He was being chased by something fabric. A blade of cloth tore through the air, destroying the ground below Oda’s feet. He leaped out of the way right before it could hit him, then grabbed onto a drainpipe on the ceiling and swung himself quickly forward like a pendulum. The incoming streams of fabric snapped the drainpipe like a twig, but Oda had already let go by then and was landing on a different level. 

“Wait!” came a beastly roar from behind. 

“Nope,” Oda replied casually, not even out of breath. The pursuer—Akutagawa’s skill—was surging straight for him from behind with each attack aimed for his neck. At times, Oda leaned to the side, while at others, he used a bullet to deflect the fabric and dodge. None of the attacks were connecting; it was as if an invisible wall were protecting Oda. 

“What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be practicing in case the man you’re after tries to run away. Come at me with everything you’ve got,” taunted Oda while sprinting. “Your skill is powerful, but your lack of physical strength is always going to hold you back when it comes to a battle of endurance. Ranpo’s deduction, those stamps—it’s all gonna be for nothing at this rate.” 

“Ha…ha-ha…!” laughed Akutagawa while panting. “This is why you are my master! However…!” 

Oda suddenly stopped in his tracks with a look of utter astonishment. “This is…” 

Because he found himself in a stone corridor—a dead end. There was no place to run, nor was there anything to use as a barricade. 

“I know the culverts underneath Yokohama like the back of my hand. I led you straight to a dead end, for not even you would be able to escape a saturation attack here if I use my skill.” 

Oda looked around and scratched his head. “All right. You win.” He then pointed at Akutagawa’s feet and said, “By the way, look below you.” 

“What?” 

Akutagawa dubiously lifted his foot and looked down. Bullet holes were carved into the floor. There were six bullet holes right where his foot had just been that outlined the sole of his shoe. Taken aback, Akutagawa retreated a step and noticed there were bullet holes arranged in the same pattern where his other foot had been. 

“I shot at the ceiling just before you came into this room. The bullets then ricocheted and landed in the ground right where you’re looking… What do you think would’ve happened if I waited another second to shoot?” 

“The bullets would have pierced my skull from my blind spot…” Akutagawa scowled. 

“Exactly. Still, being able to dictate where your opponent runs is impressive, so let me treat you to some udon. You’ve earned it.” 

Akutagawa pondered for a few moments before asking, “Udon…? Why?” 

“I just feel like udon. That’s all,” Oda answered, his expression unchanged. 

Akutagawa’s piercing gaze narrowed even more as he said, “Stamp my card if you wish to reward me. Your stamp and Yosano’s are the only ones left I need.” 

“What do you plan on doing about Yosano’s?” 

“It won’t be a problem. I’ll…think of something tomorrow.” Akutagawa casually averted his gaze. 

“Uh-huh. Well, if you want my stamp…,” began Oda. “I just remembered I had a job I’d like you to do for me. It’s simple, really. Even a kid could do it.” 

Akutagawa nodded and urged, “Go on.” 

“I’m going out of town on business tomorrow for three days. I want you to go check up on things at the shop while I’m gone.” 

“‘The shop’?” 

“It’s a restaurant,” revealed Oda. “Me and this restaurant go way back, even before I joined the agency. Unfortunately, though, I have to leave town on business on the day I promised I’d help out, so I want you to go in my place.” 

Akutagawa appeared suspicious, so Oda added, “Don’t worry. It’s never that crowded.” He shrugged. “Just play with some kids, and it’ll be over before you know it.” 

“Damn you, Sakunosuke Oda… You tricked me.” 

Five, then six kids were taking turns jumping on Akutagawa. 

“Yay!” 

“Whee!” 

“He’s just like a slide!” 

The children squealed and shouted as they slid down Akutagawa’s back while he lay on the ground. None of the kids were any older than ten, and there were a few children around three years old who were enviously watching them from the side. 

“Sorry about all this. I really appreciate the help, though,” said the restaurant’s owner with a laugh. He was standing by the doorway and wearing a yellow apron. “I was worried the kids were gonna get lonely with Oda out of town, but seems they’ll be just fine from the looks of it. Anyway, I’ve gotta get back down and run the restaurant. I’m countin’ on ya.” 

“Wai—” 

Akutagawa tried to call for help, but the kid sitting on his head ended up silencing him with his butt. 

Akutagawa was in one of the rooms in the restaurant’s adjoining row house. He used his skill to create a tent over his body to protect himself while he pulled out his cell phone and punched in Oda’s phone number. 

“Oh. Hey, Akutagawa,” came Oda’s flat voice on the other side of the line. “What’s up?” 

“Don’t play dumb, you traitor,” Akutagawa hissed. “‘Just play with some kids, and it’ll be over before you know it’? You clearly only wanted me to take over babysitting duty for you. More importantly…how many of them are there? Are you planning on building an army or something?” 

In between his job at the detective agency, Oda would take in and foster orphans who had nowhere to go. He used to rent the second floor of the restaurant, but it was getting crowded, so he moved everyone to the tenement next door. They had become a huge family. 

“I think there are fifteen altogether, but I don’t plan on making an army.” 

“It was a figure of—Hmph. It doesn’t matter.” Akutagawa scowled. “At any rate, I find it hard to believe you can raise this many orphans on the agency’s salary… How are you earning enough to take care of them?” 

“That’s a secret.” Oda let out a faint, almost inaudible laugh. “I left a list of tasks with the owner that I’d like for you to take care of on my behalf. I’m counting on you, Akutagawa. It’s your job to look after the kids, as the oldest one there.” 

“A list? There are even more—” 

However, Akutagawa suddenly realized something midsentence. 

“Wait… ‘The oldest one there’? Are you saying I’m the same as them? Is that why you saved me at the riverside?” 

“You’ve got this, Akutagawa.” 

“Why you—!” 

But Akutagawa’s cries proved fruitless, for Oda had already hung up. 

And just like that, the three days of hell began. 

The first day. 

Akutagawa was given the task of creating playground equipment: monkey bars, zip lines, swings, slides, trampolines, and even some things he had never seen before. He transformed his overcoat into countless playthings—things the children could only dream of. Naturally, the kids were beside themselves with joy as they clung to, swung from, and jumped on Akutagawa’s overcoat-turned-playground equipment. 

“Whoaaaaaa! Awesooome!” one of the kids shouted with glee as he dangled from the ceiling with fabric tied around his waist. 

“Do it again! Do it again! Do it again!” Another child had been launched high into the air by Akutagawa’s overcoat and was now shaking him for more after landing. 

“Ha-ha-ha! I’m going so fast!” Several children shrieked with delight, latching onto the overcoat as it swiftly soared through the air and over the ground like a dragon. 

It began at nine in the morning and continued until three in the afternoon, only breaking for lunch. After that, the young children took a short nap before resuming playtime until dinner. There were over a dozen hyperactive kids and only one Akutagawa. 

Akutagawa lay on the ground like a corpse while everyone else was eating dinner. 

“Just…kill me…” 

Akutagawa’s breathing came out in short gasps like a comatose patient on the verge of death. He had become one with the floor, now powerless against the pull of gravity. 

“I really appreciate the hard work, kiddo. How ’bout some dinner?” asked the owner. 

“No.” Akutagawa looked as if his soul had left his body. “If I try to eat now…all the food will just get stuck in my throat…and I’ll choke to death…” 

Day two. 

It was Parents’ Day at one of the orphans’ schools, so Akutagawa participated on behalf of the child’s guardian. 

The old wooden floor was a caramel brown. One of the walls was plastered with hiragana calligraphy. The gym teacher’s shouts echoed from the field. The hallways were freshly painted white. 

And standing in the back of the classroom were the students’ parents and guardians, all of whom seemed restless. Half were worried about their child acting up in class. As for the other half, however… 

“Hey… Whose father is that?” 

“He’s staring daggers at the teacher, that’s for sure.” 

“Are we in danger here? Because he looks like a hitman if you ask me…” 

The rest anxiously whispered about Akutagawa as he impassively stared ahead. Nevertheless, he did not seem to care in the least. He stood stiffly at attention while simply watching the lecture with nothing specific on his mind. 

“All right. Who can read what this says?” the teacher asked the students as she pointed at what was written on the blackboard. No student raised their hand, so she cocked her head and frowned. 

“Really? No one?” 

Akutagawa glanced over at one of the girls Oda had taken in. She was fidgeting in her chair and looking around anxiously. She was hesitant to raise her hand, since she was shy about answering all by herself. Akutagawa faintly clicked his tongue, and the little girl immediately began raising her hand into the air. She looked at her hand in surprise, but it didn’t stop. A piece of gray fabric was wrapped around her wrist. 

“Oh, Sakura! Great. Want to give it a shot?” 

“U-um… Okay… It… It s-says ‘house’…” 

“That’s right! Good job.” 

The guardians all oohed and aahed in admiration. Right as the little girl answered, the cloth released her wrist before crawling on the ground and returning to Akutagawa’s overcoat. 

He appeared slightly pleased. 

The third day. 

The oldest boy asked Akutagawa to spar with him as a part of his combat training. 

“I’m gonna get superstrong just like my big bro Oda. Then I’m gonna join the detective agency just like him, too! No matter what!” 

The fourteen-year-old boy named Kousuke was orphaned during a struggle between rival criminal organizations known as the Dragon’s Head Conflict, until Oda took him in. Kousuke was now something like a big brother and leader to all the other kids. He also apparently helped out at the restaurant and saved up his earnings. 

“I even bought a gun. A real one.” 

Kousuke showed off his pistol from the other side of the service counter. It was a 9mm just like Oda’s. 

“Did you buy that with your own money?” 

“Yep.” 

There were numerous smugglers at the harbor who sold anything and everything to anyone with the coin. Plenty of criminals would sell weapons to a small child if they were desperate for cash. 

Akutagawa indifferently looked down at the gun and grunted. “Very well. I suppose I could help you train.” 

Kousuke was slammed upside down against the fence with enough force to bend it before landing on the ground and moaning in agony. 

“What’s wrong? I only tapped you.” 

“Damn it!” 

Kousuke staggered back to his feet as his knees trembled. Akutagawa’s fabric immediately shot forward, wrapped around Kousuke’s neck before he could run away, and slammed him back down on the ground. Kousuke tried to scream, but every last bit of air had been expelled from his lungs. He and Akutagawa were training in an empty lot near the restaurant. 

“You’ll only get in Oda’s way if you cannot even defeat me… Though I suppose that won’t be a problem if your goal is dying and burdening your siblings with your funeral expenses.” 

“You…!” 

Kousuke shakily got back to his feet, eyes still burning with determination. 

“Still not discouraged, I see. Very well. I shall allow you to hit me once. However, failing to defeat me is an admission that you will never survive as a detective.” 

“I’ll…show you… Haaaaaah!!” 

Kousuke charged forward. It was a suicidal attack with absolutely no means of defense…or that was at least how he wanted it to seem. Moments before colliding with Akutagawa, he suddenly changed course, rolled to Akutagawa’s side, then immediately threw a high kick with all the strength he could muster. The kick closed in on Akutagawa’s jaw, powerful enough to violently rattle his brain against his skull, yet Kousuke’s heel only grazed Akutagawa’s chin. 

“Spatial Break,” muttered Akutagawa emotionlessly. 

A giant fist-shaped piece of fabric then slammed into Kousuke’s body, launching him straight back before he bounced and rolled off the ground as if he had been hit by a car. 

“I despise the weak, for they can never follow their dreams. Their hopes are meaningless. You will never become Oda’s successor. You will accomplish nothing and die a nobody.” 

Covered in dirt and cuts while on the ground, Kousuke clenched his teeth and groaned. “No! No, no, no, you’re wrong! I’m gonna be just like him! I will…! I swear I will!” 

Akutagawa’s overcoat wiggled as it pulled out a gun. It was the 9mm pistol that Kousuke had shown off at the restaurant. Akutagawa had secretly swiped it from him when he had his guard down. 

“That’s…” Kousuke’s face turned pale, for he just realized that his gun had been stolen. 

“I despise guns as well,” said Akutagawa. “People get cocky when they wave one of these around. But this is the reality of it.” 

Akutagawa grabbed the gun, aimed the muzzle at his own temple, and fired every last bullet in its clip. 

“Wha—?!” 

Each bullet appeared to ricochet off Akutagawa’s ear, but not even one grazed his skin. They were bouncing off an invisible wall before dropping to the ground. 

“Bullets are powerless in this world,” muttered Akutagawa without batting an eye. “And yet, my friends in the slum were brutally murdered by thugs who thought they were something simply because they had guns. That’s why I despise these wretched things.” 

Right as he threw the gun, the sharp sound of a blade swiftly cutting through the air echoed with a flash of light as the weapon was sliced into countless fragments of metal. The black metal scraps tragically scattered before the young boy’s stunned gaze. 

“Kousuke, the weak have no right to decide their fate. If you ever appear before me with a gun again, I will kill you.” 

Akutagawa turned his back to the quietly trembling boy and promptly left. 

After walking until the empty lot was out of sight, he turned the corner where Oda was waiting for him. 

“I appreciate it,” he said in a soft voice. 

“This is the last time I help you,” Akutagawa replied sullenly. “From now on, if you want to crush a child’s dream, do it yourself. It should be easy for someone with your talent.” 

“Kousuke would idolize me even more if I did it.” Oda scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Sorry for asking you to be the bad guy.” 

Oda’s final request to Akutagawa had been to make Kousuke give up on his dream of fighting organized crime. 

“The boy is a very good cook,” admitted Akutagawa without making eye contact. “Being a chef suits him far more than fighting crime.” 

“You’re saying Kousuke isn’t suited for fighting?” 

“That is precisely what I’m saying. He would gladly throw his life away to protect his siblings. In our line of work, those kinds of people are the first to find their way into a coffin. Only those who can cast their anger aside and act rationally end up surviving.” 

Akutagawa then began walking away. 

“You’re absolutely right,” admitted Oda as he watched Akutagawa leave. “Emotions are at the very center of our existence, but they aren’t the center of the world. There’s nothing at the center of the world. So don’t let your emotions control you, Akutagawa. Do not pursue the beast within you. Stand on your own two feet, rely only on yourself, and be as cold and tough as you can. You won’t be able to survive in this world otherwise.” 

Akutagawa suddenly stopped in place. 

“…Wait.” He turned his head back slightly and glared at Oda. “Don’t tell me that entire charade was to get me to say, ‘Only those who can cast their anger aside and act rationally end up surviving’? For me to temper my vengeance for the man in black?” 

“Not at all. I’m not that clever.” Oda shrugged. 

Akutagawa glared at him in silence for a few more moments until he eventually uttered, “I am nothing like that child.” 

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” 

Akutagawa opened his mouth to object, but he didn’t say a word. Everything he wanted to say got lost in Oda’s apathetic gaze before vanishing into nothingness. He gave up on a response, then turned his back to Oda and began walking off once more.