The fog had come out of nowhere—and vanished just as inexplicably.
Tsushima Gen'emon didn't want to suspect Shibusawa Tatsuhiko. However, the servants had reported that, just before the fog appeared, Shibusawa had suddenly shouted, "Draconia." That immediately made Gen'emon think of an ability.
"What was Shibusawa-kun doing?"
He questioned the servant assigned to keep an eye on him.
The servant replied, "Shibusawa-sama went out for a while. About an hour later, he returned with a cup of hot cocoa and milk, which he gave to Shuuji-bocchan."
Gen'emon frowned.
"Did he drink it?"
The servant hadn't paid attention afterward.
"I... believe he did."
Tsushima Gen'emon's mood darkened.
If Shibusawa Tatsuhiko truly harbored ill intent toward the Tsushima family, he wouldn't need to rely on the family's power at all. He could have killed Shuuji outright.
For a moment, Gen'emon regretted sheltering Shuuji so completely that the boy had grown up with no sense of caution around strangers.
But the next instant, he dismissed the thought.
If he hadn't raised him that way, how could Shuuji have willingly remained at home, "treating" the family?
He neither wanted nor was ready to hand Shuuji over to anyone.
That would mean surrendering the family's guarantee of survival.
At the very least...
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko still hadn't offered enough in exchange.
Meanwhile, in Tsushima Shuuji's room, the cup of cocoa sat on the table.
Shuuji sipped the warm drink through a straw. The rich aroma of chocolate softened his opinion of Shibusawa Tatsuhiko ever so slightly.
Part of that change, no doubt, came from the fact that Shibusawa had told him about abilities... and had reached out to touch his face.
The relationship between the two of them had become strangely ambiguous.
Neither enemies nor friends.
Absentmindedly, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko asked, "Do you want to go out and have some fun?"
His crimson eyes remained fixed on the tiny ponytail at the end of Shuuji's hair.
His blue ribbon was still tied there.
"Give me back the ribbon, and I'll take you out to play."
"No."
"Give me the ribbon."
"I refuse."
"Shuuji-kun... do you simply not want to give it back to me?"
"Mm."
Tsushima Shuuji still wore the face of a pitiful little child. His long lashes trembled like soft brushes, making it seem as though he were pleading for mercy instead of stabbing straight into someone else's heart.
A cold aura radiated from Shibusawa Tatsuhiko, yet he never lost his temper.
Tsushima Shuuji turned to look at the servants keeping watch over them.
"We're just joking around."
He flashed them a smile.
The servants were thoroughly confused. What was so important about a single ribbon? It really did seem like the two of them were just fooling around.
Tsushima Shuuji looked back at Shibusawa Tatsuhiko and said casually, "If you tell me about the 'black magic' in your novel, I'll give the ribbon back to you. How about it?"
Seeing that he'd taken the bait, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko nodded with restrained satisfaction.
"Very well." I was going to tell you eventually anyway.
He opened the Black Magic Notebook and laid it on the table.
"The origins of 'black magic' lie in the Western world," Shibusawa Tatsuhiko explained in his usual detached tone. "It flourished in Britain, France, Germany, the United States, Russia, and elsewhere. It has existed for a very long time and encompasses many different schools. According to legend, various countries have studied it to varying degrees, ultimately concluding that 'black magic' originates from the soul and the body..."
As the lecture continued, the servants listening from inside the room grew drowsy.
There was something strangely hypnotic about his voice. His tone was so flat, he could make even the most fantastical stories sound unbearably dry.
Only Tsushima Shuuji remained kneeling upright on the tatami, listening with complete concentration.
The "black magic" Shibusawa Tatsuhiko was talking about was actually abilities.
This was a secret he had never known.
He even suspected that his father knew nothing about it either. That would explain why he had used such a foolish method to trigger his ability, all in the vain hope of keeping him trapped within this estate forever.
When he had explained enough, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko held out his hand.
Tsushima Shuuji untied the ribbon from his hair and tossed it to him.
Because of the way he had worn it, several strands of brown hair had become tangled around the ribbon. Shibusawa Tatsuhiko frowned in distaste, carefully plucking them away with his fingernails before flicking them aside. He hesitated over whether to tie it back into his own hair, but ultimately decided he would wash it thoroughly that evening.
Tsushima Shuuji no longer cared what he did. Rising to his feet, he prepared to leave.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko paused.
"You don't want to hear the rest?"
In the clear, high voice of a child who had yet to reach puberty, Shuuji replied, "It's unbearably boring."
He already knew enough.
He already knew where his tragedy had begun.
What more was there to learn? As for why Shibusawa had come and why he had taken an interest in him; None of it mattered.
He no longer had the energy to care.
The world outside would not be so different from the one inside this house. Those people would covet his ability just as his father had. The moment his ability was exposed, they would exploit him, use him, and reveal the same malice, unless... he concealed himself completely.
His soul had long since been filled with exhaustion and numb resignation.
He turned and walked toward the inner rooms, as though the shadows of the Tsushima family estate were swallowing him whole.
Then he stopped. Or rather... He couldn't move.
"You have to know."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had grabbed him by the back of his collar. Taking advantage of his height—over 170 centimeters—he lifted the eleven-year-old straight off the ground.
Tsushima Shuuji's feet kicked helplessly in the air, unable to touch the floor. "..."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko said, "You're one of my own kind. I won't let you remain trapped here."
The white-haired boy spoke those words with complete conviction.
He carried himself like an innocent young nobleman untouched by the world, yet his eyes were cold—fixed on a single goal, willing to use any means necessary to reach it.
Tsushima Shuuji stared at him, his reflection mirrored in those crimson eyes. "One of your own kind...?"
Are you sure you're looking for your kind and not just being a creep???
Is this really how people outside make friends?!
That very day, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko contacted Shibusawa Eiichi, explaining that his writing assignment at the Tsushima estate had reached an impasse and that he needed to take Tsushima Shuuji out to gather inspiration.
Without hesitation, Shibusawa Eiichi ordered one of his retainers to negotiate with the head of the Tsushima family. Applying a bit of pressure behind the scenes, he swiftly secured their approval.
Determined to prove himself, the White Qilin's motivation shot through the roof.
By evening, another sunset had arrived.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko permitted several Tsushima servants to accompany them as he—dragged (crossed out)—took Shuuji outside.
Having been confined indoors for so long, Tsushima Shuuji gazed at the ever-changing world around him. Little by little, something of a genuine child's wonder returned to his dark hazel eyes.
The pond from his memories was gone.
The buildings had changed as well.
The little snack shop had disappeared, replaced by a general store, though he could still spot familiar snack wrappers from years ago.
"Why did you bring me out here?" Shuuji asked as he sucked on a piece of candy.
"Your house is unbearably boring," Shibusawa Tatsuhiko replied, using Shuuji's own words to mock the Tsushima family.
"And yours is any better?" Tsushima Shuuji asked.
"...It's all right."
He had originally intended to answer, Just as boring.
But after comparing it to the Tsushima household, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko realized that his own bleak home actually had a few redeeming qualities.
After walking for over half an hour, Shuuji grew tired.
Clad in wooden geta, his cheeks were lightly flushed, beads of sweat glistening on his face. It had been far too long since he had breathed fresh air outdoors.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko looked at him without the slightest intention of helping him—or carrying him.
Tsushima Shuuji suddenly grinned.
"Shibusawa Tatsuhiko, who are you really looking at when you look at me?"
"…!"
"Do I look that much like him? How much? Enough to make you want to pinch my cheeks... or snap my neck?"
"…You can ask him yourself."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko turned around.
At some point, the Tsushima family's servants had completely lost track of them.
Dressed in an elegant kimono, the exquisitely doll-like yet hollow-eyed Tsushima Shuuji stood out sharply from the other children in the city. Hearing Shibusawa Tatsuhiko's answer, he stiffened and looked around.
Off in a corner, Asou Akiya said nervously, "Randou... will you come with me?"
Randou shook his head. "I don't know him."
He raised his phone and switched it to camera mode.
"I'll take pictures of the two of you. I want to see his face."
A grown-up Akiya and a miniature Akiya in the same frame— There was no way he was missing that.
This wasn't a kitten!
It was a mini kimono version of Akiya!
Asou Akiya couldn't help running a hand through his hair, making sure it wasn't a mess.
This was only the second time in his life that he would meet one of the hidden protagonists from the original Bungou Stray Dogs story—the legendary Dazai Osamu.
Experienced as he was, he still couldn't suppress the anxiety of deliberately stepping into someone else's fate.
The Tsushima family could never give Tsushima Shuuji a healthy place to grow up.
They had shattered the child's fragile heart.
If Shuuji was willing... he would find a way to take him away.
Yes.
As the Port Mafia's analyst.
As Natsume Souseki's disciple.
He now had the power to do it.
Randou knew all too well that Asou Akiya had an irresistible weakness for cat-like children. He reached over and smoothed Akiya's collar.
"Akiya, don't be nervous. You're wonderful. I'm sure he'll like you just as you are."
Akiya was touched by his thoughtfulness.
"You don't mind?"
Randou smiled and gently patted his cheek.
"Get him out first. We can worry about everything else afterward. And if you don't have the time to provide psychological counseling, I think Fukuzawa-san would be much better suited for it than you."
"Uh... I guess that's true..."
Has Fukuzawa Yukichi's talent for being a caretaker really become that obvious already?
Asou Akiya was reluctant to admit it, but he didn't dare argue. His lover was kind, but that didn't mean he could keep pushing his luck.
One step at a time. Maybe Randou would end up liking little Shuuji.
After all, bringing Ranpo and Chuuya home had worked out too.
Petting cats was addictive!
Convinced he was simply here to rescue someone and with no intention of hurting Tsushima Shuuji in the slightest, Asou Akiya strode toward him without hesitation.
The distant look in Tsushima Shuuji's eyes suddenly sharpened.
A black-haired young man was walking toward him.
From so far away, he could only make out the outline. Sweat dampened his eyelashes, and the man looked like an older, mature version of himself—someone who had broken free of his shackles, whose gaze cut through the crowd and settled directly on him.
Twilight.
The hour of demons.
There was an old saying: "if someone encountered their doppelganger, they would die."
No longer the boy he had been seven years ago, Asou Akiya had grown into a man who carried the responsibility of supporting a family, with a presence entirely his own. When he wasn't in his Mafia work mode, he was unmistakably different from Dazai. His eyes were long and gentle, his lips healthy with color, and a warm smile came naturally to him—not the smile of someone deceiving others, but one born of genuine kindness.
"Young master, did you get separated again?"
At twenty-four, Asou Akiya still towered over him, just as he had seven years ago.
He bent down and reached out, gently touching the stunned Tsushima Shuuji.
How young this face still was...
What kind of heartless person could bring themselves to strike Tsushima Shuuji, leaving him crying in pain?
"Come back with me—... Agh!"
Asou Akiya cried out in pain.
Tsushima Shuuji had sunk his teeth into his hand. His sharp front teeth broke the skin without mercy. Those eyes, once as soft as peach blossoms, were now wide open, blazing with hostility as they glared at him.
—You still have the nerve to come looking for me?!
—You actually have the audacity to ask me to go with you?!
Seven years' worth of hatred that Tsushima Shuuji had buried inside himself erupted all at once.
The shackles wrapped around his heart dug into his flesh, the pain so intense that he nearly screamed louder than the man before him.
Why did I have to meet this person again?!
Your kindness brought me nothing but disaster!
...
If you're obsessed with petting cats, sooner or later you're bound to get scratched.