The first thing Randou did after returning home that day was head straight for the study and switch on the desktop computer.
He went online and searched for information about Japan's same-sex marriage laws before looking up France's national policies.
Unfortunately, Japan was out of the question.
As for France...
Randou carefully read through the information.
"France abolished the 'crime of homosexuality' in 1981..."
He sucked in a sharp breath.
"It used to be an actual criminal offense?"
A flush slowly spread across his cheeks as he continued reading.
"In 1999, France's Socialist Party recognized the legal status of homosexual couples and cohabiting partners, promoting related legislation. That happened just last year..."
By the time he finished reading, Randou had sunk into a gloomy mood.
He had always thought of France as an open and progressive country, yet it didn't even have a same-sex marriage law in place.
Then how was he supposed to take Akiya back to France and marry him?
Distracted and absent-minded, Randou walked out of the study and happened to run into Edogawa Ranpo, who had just returned home.
With a single glance, Edogawa Ranpo saw straight through what Randou was thinking and casually said,
"Then just get married in another country."
Randou stopped in his tracks.
Edogawa Ranpo's version of mind-reading instantly went into effect.
"There's no way it'll happen in Japan. Those bureaucratic old men may fool around however they like behind closed doors, but out in public every single one of them puts on an act of being proper and respectable. There's no chance they'll approve same-sex marriage laws within the next few years!"
Randou's level of dejection continued to climb, prompting Edogawa Ranpo to hurriedly try to bring it back down.
"France still has hope!"
"It does?"
"It does! Ranpo-sama already checked. France released the Civil Solidarity Pact this January, allowing people to register family relationships under the status of 'cohabiting partners'!"
"...Mm. That actually doesn't sound bad."
"Mr. Randou, are you going to marry Akiya?"
"...No."
The moment the topic arose in front of a child, Randou immediately regained his composure. His cool gaze swept over the other boy.
"At your age, why are you paying attention to things you shouldn't be concerned with?"
Edogawa Ranpo protested indignantly.
"I was trying to help Mr. Randou come up with a solution!"
Having discarded him the instant he had outlived his usefulness, Randou replied unhurriedly,
"There's no need. I'll discuss it with Akiya myself."
This was a matter for adults.
No matter how much a child knew, it still wouldn't do!
Edogawa Ranpo, having suffered yet another round of "age discrimination," was so furious he nearly stomped his feet. Every time he thought he had grown up, his guardians would inevitably treat him like a child and shove him right back into that role.
The third person to return home that day was Asou Akiya, and he was greeted by one of Randou's unusually enthusiastic embraces.
"Hm? What's gotten into you today?"
Accepting Randou's customary kiss of greeting, Asou Akiya set down the keys in his hand and turned to look at him.
The long-haired young man, who had never been able to hide anything from him, had a faint blush coloring his face.
"I went to the Translation Department."
Asou Akiya's pupils contracted slightly before he smiled with quiet meaning.
"And did you gain anything from it?"
Randou answered,
"I learned about Akiya's past."
Removing his sheepskin gloves, Randou lifted his cool hand—its finger adorned with a ring—and gently caressed Akiya's face.
The diamond ring looked newly acquired, its silver-white band accentuating the elegant lines of his fingers.
"Akiya... do you want to marry me?"
"Marry—?!!"
Asou Akiya had never imagined he would receive such an unexpected surprise. He nearly cried out in shock.
Suppressing a trace of shyness unlike anything he had ever experienced before, Randou let his gaze fall upon Akiya's face, only to dart away a moment later. Maintaining an earnest, utterly serious expression, he said,
"Japan doesn't have same-sex marriage laws, and France doesn't permit same-sex marriage for the time being either. If we want to get married, we'll have to find a country that allows foreigners to register a same-sex marriage..."
Asou Akiya listened to him seriously from beginning to end, and the surge of joy in his heart gradually settled into something calmer.
Japan and France...
Tch.
Asou Akiya asked, "What does Randou think?"
Randou refused to answer directly and instead countered with a question.
"Akiya's opinion is the most important. What do you think?"
Asou Akiya didn't bother dancing around the issue. Smiling with easy frankness, he gave his answer.
"Personally, I'd be more than willing. But at present, only the Netherlands recognizes same-sex marriage. We have no way of immigrating there. Even if we went through all the trouble of registering a marriage, we still wouldn't receive recognition from the Dutch government."
An unguarded sound escaped Randou.
"Ah..."
He was still wavering over the matter himself, yet Akiya had already given up on it so decisively?
"It's not giving up."
Interlacing their fingers, Asou Akiya held his hand tightly. The matching rings on their fingers stood as proof of their love—a relationship that could not yet gain public recognition.
"Let's wait patiently," he said. "I believe more countries will gradually open their minds and allow people of other nationalities to register same-sex marriages."
For some reason, a pang of bitterness welled up in Randou's heart.
Unhappy, he asked, "If France agreed to it, would you go?"
Asou Akiya's smile became elusive and unreadable.
"If you wanted me to, then I'd go."
If you loved me, then even if a mountain of blades and a sea of fire lay ahead, I would still go without hesitation.
Asou Akiya led him over to the reception area instead of leaving him standing by the doorway.
Half-reclining on the long sofa, Randou hugged a cushion to his chest and stretched his legs across Asou Akiya's lap. Asou Akiya kneaded and massaged the muscles in his legs for him while Randou continued discussing the matter with his lover.
"Akiya, in your judgment, how many years do you think we'll have to wait?"
"Within five years, I think."
In his previous life, he had never been some straight man who paid no attention to such matters, so he had naturally kept track of these developments.
The Netherlands had been the first country to legalize same-sex marriage, followed by nations such as Belgium, Spain, and Canada. Ironically, France—a country widely regarded as open-minded and romantic—had not recognized same-sex marriage nearly so early. There was still hope, but not until another thirteen years had passed.
The country he felt most optimistic about was France's neighbor, Spain.
That, too, was a nation so "romantic" that it could be utterly exasperating.
There were plenty of ways to make it work. If everything was handled properly and they managed to obtain legal residency in Barcelona, there was a chance they could register their marriage in Spain as foreign nationals.
"Are you really that impatient to get married, Randou?" Asou Akiya teased.
"N—"
The denial had barely left Randou's mouth when he abruptly, and rather stiffly, corrected himself.
"If the circumstances are right, then we'll get married. It's not as though I'm committed to staying single. It's just... regrettable that neither Japan nor France agrees to it."
Asou Akiya watched his lover's wandering gaze and raised an eyebrow.
As if he wouldn't understand what Randou was thinking.
Most likely, Randou had been stimulated by something that had happened outside. He had come home carried along by a burst of novelty and excitement, only for practical concerns to begin creeping in. In a few days, he would inevitably start considering all the complications that came after marriage, worrying that it might somehow diminish the warmth of their relationship.
Still...
Japan refusing to approve it and all that...
Asou Akiya's hand gave Randou's thigh a gentle squeeze.
"If Randou loved me to the point of unwavering devotion unto death, maybe you'd even manage to move the Japanese government~."
Randou hugged the cushion and tossed it at him.
"I don't believe that. Who could I possibly move?"
Asou Akiya burst out laughing.
"Me!"
He wasn't lying.
It was Randou who underestimated himself.
If Arthur Rimbaud could love him that deeply, then perhaps the Japanese government really might agree to it in exchange for gaining a French Transcendent for free. Whether France would fly into a rage afterward, however, would be an entirely different matter.
Asou Akiya smoothed away the pout tugging at Randou's lips and said lightly,
"Don't worry so much. You'll age faster."
"The last time, you said getting angry makes people age faster. At this rate, you'll eventually start saying that breathing makes people age faster too!"
"You caught me."
"You're bullying me! You think French people age faster than Japanese people!"
"I do not— Fine, I do. That's why I've invested in men's facial masks and moisturizing creams for you. I guarantee you'll stay youthful and beautiful forever—hahaha—"
His laughter abruptly cut off.
"I can't breathe— Help!"
Asou Akiya was pushed down onto the sofa, laughing without restraint. Straddling his waist, Randou grabbed hold of his tie, determined to make him understand exactly whose strength held the upper hand at this moment.
Asou Akiya showed not the slightest fear. Smiling so broadly that his eyes curved into crescents, he gave a teasing thrust of his hips.
"Randou, the thing that nourishes you the most is love!"
Everything else was merely an added bonus that came with it.
You were already far more beautiful than the Randou of the original story. Believe me, I've been taking very good care of you every single day.
Ah—My neck is about to break.
And my waist, too.
...
At the Stewed Pigeon Publishing House.
"Cough, cough—"
Asou Akiya rubbed his neck, feeling as though the aftereffects of yesterday's breathless play had lingered into today. An enraged Randou truly wasn't someone to be trifled with; when pushed far enough, he was capable of swallowing him whole.
He had brought Ranpo's and Chuuya's exercise books with him to the publishing house and handed them over to be printed.
No matter what, they needed to be properly organized.
These were the works of the two children—keepsakes to preserve as memories for the future.
"Boss, that person you were interested in has arrived."
The president of the publishing house only knew that his company had been acquired by the Port Mafia. The young man before him was his employer, entrusted with full authority over matters both great and small.
"Which person?" Asou Akiya asked. Then realization dawned on him. "Ah, Oda Sakunosuke."
"Please take me to meet him."
His interest was piqued.
One of the rare members of the spicy-food faction in the world of Bungou Stray Dogs!
The red-haired youth sat in the reception area with his knees together and his hands resting on the table as he read through the contract. His posture was impeccably respectful and restrained.
Sensing someone approaching from outside, the red-haired boy—with his narrow shoulders and an air that had yet to mature fully—was the first to notice Asou Akiya.
Pushing open the glass door, Asou Akiya stepped into the air-conditioned room and spoke with the ease of someone entering familiar territory.
"So this is the newly signed author?"
The publishing editor recognized Asou Akiya immediately and hurried to his feet.
"Reader-sensei, this is Oda Sakunosuke. He's fourteen years old this year and has already completed three short stories one after another. The quality of his writing is solid enough, and they can be compiled into a single volume for publication."
In the past, a debut work pieced together from several short stories by a newcomer like this would never have been published so quickly.
But what could they do when the people above them were willing to support him?
Oda Sakunosuke's vacant gaze showed the faintest hint of surprise as he heard the other's identity—
Reader-sensei.
That pen name had once been synonymous with every sort of "exaggerated," "vulgar," and "harem-filled" plot imaginable. Fortunately, over the past few years, the author had "turned over a new leaf," writing quite a number of youthful pure-romance novels instead. He had shed the title of Japan's leading pioneer of crystal palace novels, and his reputation had improved—if only by a little.
Meeting Asou Akiya for the first time came as a surprise to Oda Sakunosuke.
Standing before him was a young man with short black hair, tall and slender in build. Dressed in a three-piece black suit, he carried himself with impeccable posture. He was handsome, with a warm and approachable expression that made him seem nothing like the "lecherous man who could only write this kind of trash because he couldn't find a partner" that literary critics had painted him to be.
Mm.
He probably had no trouble finding a partner at all.
A man with looks like these was extremely popular in Japan.
Then Oda Sakunosuke noticed a detail.
He paused, momentarily stunned.
Beneath the other's suit jacket was the telltale outline of a firearm.
Compared to an ordinary literary author, he looked far more like a member of the Mafia.
"Hello."
Only then did Oda Sakunosuke belatedly stand up, speaking awkwardly.
"There's no need to be nervous. I just came by to take a look."
Asou Akiya settled naturally into the editor's seat and, with effortless ease, had the editor excuse himself for a while.
"Thank you for your trouble. I'd like a cup of coffee. As for Oda-kun..." He glanced across at the younger boy. "He's still young, so please prepare a glass of milk for him."
The publishing editor bowed repeatedly, dutifully observing Japan's hierarchical etiquette.
"Of course."
Once the editor left, only the two of them remained in the reception room.
Asou Akiya regarded Oda Sakunosuke with the fascination one might reserve for a rare and endangered creature.
Oda Sakunosuke shifted uncomfortably under that gaze. It reminded him of Natsume Souseki. Back then, that gentleman had looked at him in exactly the same way.
With complete sincerity, Oda Sakunosuke asked,
"May I ask... is there something special about me?"
"There is," Asou Akiya replied. "You're very special."
Leaning back in his chair, he shed the imposing air of a senior author and spoke with an approachable ease.
"Do you still remember the message you asked Ranpo to pass on to me? To be honest, I was quite surprised. Because of how busy work keeps me, I've never had the habit of interacting with my readers. It was the first time I'd ever heard someone ask me—"
His voice rose slightly, carrying a distinctive cadence. There was a trace of huskiness to it, as though he were deliberately easing the tension in the room.
"'Can a killer find redemption in the real world?'"
Once upon a time, he had intentionally imitated the Dark Era version of Dazai.
But now, he no longer needed to imitate anyone.
He had developed a manner of speech entirely his own.
"I'll tell you the answer."
"Yes."
"They can."
"Love can protect the soul. It can shut out filth and sin. As long as the effort you expend is for the sake of the person you love, then no matter how exhausting it is, no matter how painful it becomes, no matter if the darkness surrounding you grows ten thousand times deeper—"
"I firmly believe that I carry more light within my heart than anyone else."
"And no one has the right to demand that I pay for taking lives."
Asou Akiya, whose parents had both been members of the Mafia, drew the handgun from his person and set it gently upon the table.
There was only tenderness in his expression.
"Look."
"Even after setting down the gun, I'm still myself."
He looked at Oda Sakunosuke and asked,
"Would you like to learn from me?"
"I can teach you how to step into the light."
...
At the age of fourteen, Oda Sakunosuke signed a publishing contract with the Stewed Pigeon Publishing House.
The red-haired boy stepped out of the publishing house and into the blazing winds of midsummer.
The dazzling sunlight forced him to narrow his eyes. It felt as though every pore in his body had opened to the heat as he stood there, momentarily dazed by the bustling world before him—the endless flow of cars and crowds moving through the city.
He didn't know what kind of madness had possessed him.
He had chosen to trust a member of the Mafia?
Lowering his gaze, he looked at the contract in his hands.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, that smile widened, until it erased the dull, wooden expression that had so often settled over his features.
"A rookie novelist who refuses to become an assassin... and a senior writer who belongs to the Mafia?"
The premise alone sounded as though it could become a novel in its own right.
Reality was even stranger than fiction...
What I am writing… is my own life?
Will I… be able to step into the light?