Chapter Text
Yokohama breathed like a beast that never slept.
The city never woke in the morning because it never really slept. The night simply changed color from inky black to gray-blue, then to pale gold and the people who had something to hide kept moving like shadows among the shadows. In this city, law was a sort of recommendation, morality a luxury, and ability… ability was a curse that some wore like a crown.
The wind from the harbor smelled of salt and rust and gunpowder.
And right where that smell was strongest, stood a boy who didn’t look like a man who should be there.
He was thin, almost frail-looking, with disheveled hair and a coat that looked as if he had been through more battles than he had. But his eyes… his eyes were still. Empty. Like glass with nothing behind it. Or too much.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said a voice behind him.
The boy didn’t turn around immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the sea, where the waves lazily crashed against the concrete pier.
“People who come here at this time…” the voice paused, “… rarely leave of their own accord.”
Now he turned.
The man behind him was dressed elegantly, almost too much for this part of town. A coat that cost more than the lives of most people here. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“And you?” the boy asked calmly. “Are you here on business or out of habit?”
The man laughed softly.
“Interesting question. Let’s say… that I’m here because of people like you.”
The boy tilted his head.
“Then you’re late.”
“Late?”
“Yes.” He took a small step forward, toward the edge of the pier. “I’m not human anymore.”
The wind picked up, ruffling his hair.
The man didn’t seem surprised.
“That’s what everyone in Yokohama says at some point.”
“No,” the boy replied quietly. “I proved it.”
And then the air changed.
It wasn’t something you could see with the naked eye. More like… a feeling. Pressure. It was as if the space itself around them shrank for a moment.
The man didn’t move.
“So the rumors are true,” he said, almost contentedly. “You’re one of those.”
The boy didn’t answer.
“An ability that can’t be controlled… or you don’t want to control it?”
Silence.
The waves crashed again.
“If you’re here to kill me,” the boy said after a moment, “do it quickly.”
The man smiled.
“If I wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t be talking.”
“Then what do you want?”
The man took a few slow steps forward.
“There are many groups in Yokohama that are interested in people with… special abilities. Some want to use them. Others want to destroy them,” he stopped a few meters from the boy, “and we… we prefer to give them a choice.”
The boy looked at him.
“A choice?”
“Yes,” the man smiled wider. “To die senselessly… or to become something more.”
The wind picked up again.
“And what is ‘something more’?” the boy asked.
“A weapon.”
The word fell heavily between them.
The boy laughed softly.
“So there is no choice.”
“On the contrary,” the man answered calmly. “There is always a choice. It’s just that some choices lead to a longer life.”
The boy looked out to sea again.
The silence stretched.
“If I refuse?” he finally asked.
The man shrugged.
“Then someone else will find you. And he won’t be so… polite.”
The boy closed his eyes for a moment.
Images flashed through his mind.
Blood on his hands.
Screams.
Broken walls.
And silence after that.
Always silence.
“And if I accept?” he asked.
The man smiled.
“Then you will understand what it means to belong to something.”
The boy opened his eyes.
“I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Everyone belongs somewhere,” the man answered. “Even those who say otherwise.”
The wind died down for a moment.
And then…
The boy took a step back. From the edge of the pier.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Okay?”
“I’ll come with you.”
The man’s smile faded to a trickle.
“A wise choice.”
“No,” the boy replied. “Just… the only one.”
The building was hidden in a part of town where even the police didn’t linger long.
From the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Rusty doors, broken windows, graffiti on the walls. But inside…
It was another world inside.
Light. Clean. Order.
And people.
Lots of people.
Some looked normal.
Others… not.
The boy watched them as he followed the man down a long hallway.
A girl passed them, a kind of light flashing around her arms. A man with scars on his face was talking to himself, but the shadows around him were moving strangely. Another stood motionless, the air around him quivering as if in heat.
“Is this the place?” the boy asked.
“This is just the beginning,” the man replied.
They stopped in front of a door.
The man opened it.
Inside was an office.
And behind the desk…
A man sat who didn’t look like someone who should be afraid of anything.
“So this is the new one?” he asked calmly.
The man nodded.
“Yes.”
The man behind the desk’s gaze turned to the boy.
Heavy.
Piercing.
“What’s your name?”
The boy fell silent.
“I don’t have a name,” he said finally.
The man smiled slightly.
“Everyone has a name.”
“Not me.”
Silence.
“Interesting,” the man said. “Then we’ll give you one.”
The boy didn’t react.
“But before that…” the man leaned forward slightly. “…I want to see what you can do.”
The air changed again.
Stronger this time.
Heavier.
“No,” the boy said quietly. “I don’t want to.”
“It’s not a matter of desire,” the man replied calmly.
And then…
Something broke.
Not in the room.
In him.
The walls shook.
The glass cracked.
The light flickered.
And for a moment…
Everything looked as if it was going to fall apart.
The man by the door didn’t move.
The man behind the desk… smiled.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “You’re definitely interesting.”
The boy stood still.
His breathing was heavy.
His eyes… were no longer empty.
They burned.
“Stop,” he whispered.
But it was too late.
The power spilled out like a storm.
And Yokohama… had another monster.
This was just the beginning.
Because in this city, where abilities determined fate and choices were just different paths to the same place…
No one remained innocent for long.
And no one escaped the consequences.
And the boy with no name?
He was yet to learn…
that the most terrifying thing was not the power you carried.
But what you're willing to do with it.
**************
The morning in Yokohama pretended to be innocent.
The sun crept between the buildings like a well-mannered thief, while the streets began to fill with ordinary people who believed they lived in an ordinary city. Buses, bicycles, hurried footsteps, the smell of coffee and bread... everything seemed almost peaceful.
Almost.
On the third floor of an old building, above a café that served overly bitter coffee and overly sweet smiles, was a place that rarely had anything to do with "peace."
The door creaked slightly as it opened.
"You're late," said a voice, without even looking up.
"I'm not," replied another, lazy and almost cheerful. "Time just rushed."
She looked up from her notebook with such precision, as if every move had been measured in advance.
"There's no room in my schedule for such philosophical excuses."
"Tragedy," Dazai sighed, throwing himself onto the couch as if it were a stage play and he was playing the lead role in his own apathy. "One day you’ll add 'spontaneous elegance' to this schedule."
"Never."
"Too bad. It would suit you."
Silence for about three seconds.
Then…
"Dazai!" a voice called from across the room.
It was Atsushi, who nearly tripped over his own feet, clutching a piece of paper that clearly didn’t carry good news.
"This… this came this morning."
Dazai took the paper without standing up, his gaze skimming over the text. And for a moment… his smile disappeared.
Not dramatic. Not theatrical. Just… quiet.
"Oh, how delightful," he murmured, though there was no joy in it.
Kunikida’s pen stopped instantly. He pushed his glasses up his nose, his voice dropping into that dangerously sharp, lecturing tone. "Delightful? Dazai, if this is another one of your suicide-related pranks, I swear I will—What are you even looking at?"
Dazai held the paper out lazily.
Kunikida snatched it, his eyes darting across the lines. The more he read, the deeper his frown carved into his face.
"An entire section of the warehouse district... warped?" Kunikida’s voice tightened, a note of pure disbelief and irritation creeping in. "Reports of spatial distortion and structural failure without a single explosive charge? This violates every standard protocol of—That’s not a regular crime, that’s a structural disaster!"
"Ah, but disasters have such a charming way of breaking the routine, don’t they?" Dazai replied, tilting his head with a faint, mocking curve of his lips.
"Witnesses describe... spatial distortions," Kunikida continued, his eyes darting frantically across the paper as if searching for a typo that would restore order. "Buildings cracking without a single external force. People feeling a sudden, crushing pressure in the air. This isn’t vandalism. This is an active threat to public safety!"
Atsushi went completely pale, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to look at the paper to know that feeling. The heavy air, the suffocating pressure... it tasted too much like a nightmare he fought every night.
"That... that sounds like an ability," Atsushi whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "An uncontrolled one."
"Obviously," Kunikida snapped, though his own jaw was tight with tension. "Which means we are dealing with a rogue anomaly right in the middle of our district."
Dazai had been silent until now. Slowly, he pushed himself off the couch, walking over to the window with his hands tucked deep into his pockets. He didn't look at the report. He looked out at the bustling streets of Yokohama, his expression unreadable.
"Not just a rogue anomaly, Kunikida," Dazai said quietly, his tone losing its usual teasing edge. "A raw one."
Atsushi blinked, looking between them. "What do you mean?"
"Most abilities are tools," Dazai murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Scalpels, guns, hammers. They have shapes, masters, and boundaries. But what we’re looking at here..." He turned his head slightly, a cold shadow touching his eyes. "...is a storm that hasn't realized it's raining yet."
The room fell dead silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
Kunikida was the first to break it, slamming his notebook shut with a sharp crack. "Then we mobilize immediately. Before it tears half the harbor down."
"We can try," Dazai smiled, though there was no humor in it. "The real question is... who else smelled the blood in the water first."
Atsushi frowned, completely lost. "Who else?"
"Think about it, Atsushi-kun," Dazai sighed, turning away from the window. "A terrifying, unclaimed power wreaking havoc near the docks? To us, it’s a disaster waiting to happen. To them... it’s an invitation."
Kunikida let out a long, exhausted breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as the realization hit him.
"The Port Mafia," he muttered, the name tasting like ash.
The name hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Atsushi swallowed.
"You think they've already found him?"
Dazai smiled again.
This time more lightly.
More dangerously.
"If they haven't... they will soon."
The office door slammed open.
"I heard 'mafia' and I thought the conversation was finally getting interesting."
He entered, chewing on a candy as if it were his most important task of the day.
"Ranpo-san!" Atsushi exclaimed.
"What do we have?" Ranpo asked, already sitting in the chair that was clearly "his" chair.
Kunikida handed him the sheet of paper.
Ranpo looked at it.
For about two seconds.
Then he put it down.
"He's found," he said.
Silence.
"What?" Atsushi asked.
"The man with the ability," Ranpo replied calmly. "It’s already been found."
"How do you know?" Kunikida asked.
Ranpo sighed.
"Because if it hadn’t been, the destruction would have continued chaotically. But it has stopped. That means someone took it away."
"And that someone..." Atsushi began.
"…isn’t us," Dazai finished.
Silence.
"So..." Atsushi hesitated. "…the mafia?"
Ranpo smiled slightly.
"Most likely."
Kunikida clutched his notebook.
"That complicates the situation."
"No," Dazai said. "That makes it clearer."
Everyone looked at him.
"If it’s in the hands of the mafia," he continued, "we have two options. Either they’ll use it… or they’ll try to control it."
"Both sound bad," Atsushi said.
"Yes," Dazai agreed. "But the second is more interesting."
"Why?" asked Kunikida.
Dazai smiled.
"Because it means even they’re not sure what they’ve found."
Ranpo laughed softly.
"That’ll be fun."
"That’s not 'fun,'" replied Kunikida sternly.
"Everything is fun," said Ranpo. "Some people just refuse to admit it."
Atsushi stood silent.
"If this guy can’t control his ability…" he said finally, "…he could hurt a lot of people."
Dazai looked at him.
For a moment, his gaze was serious.
"Yes," he said quietly. "He could."
Silence.
"That’s why we have to find him," added Atsushi.
Kunikida nodded.
"I agree."
Ranpo stretched.
"I know where he is now."
Everyone looked at him.
"—What?!"
"In an old warehouse, near the inner harbor area," Ranpo said calmly. "Hidden, but not well enough."
Kunikida had already taken out a pen.
"Okay. A plan—"
"No," Dazai interrupted.
Kunikida looked at him.
"What 'no'?"
"If we go in directly," Dazai said, "we’ll run into the mafia."
"That’s inevitable," Kunikida replied.
"Not really."
Dazai smiled slightly.
"Sometimes… the best way to get in somewhere…"
He paused.
"…is to let someone else open the door."
Ranpo smiled broadly.
"Oh, I like that already."
Atsushi looked between them.
"You have a plan, don’t you?"
Dazai tilted his head.
"Always."
Somewhere in Yokohama…
the air began to tremble again.
The game was on.
And the figures were already moving.