The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency

by Kafka Asagiri

  That was why an assassin of this level would have surely heard of a job like this. There was no way “V” would ignore such a convenient hit man who was talented but didn’t work for any specific group.

  “…I don’t want to talk about them.” The young man finally spoke up. He had a boy’s voice, but his tone sounded like a worn-out elderly man with no emotions. “Do you know what their goal is?”

  “No,” replied Fukuzawa.

  All he knew was that this criminal organization set up an entire scheme and got everyone in the theater involved just to capture one man.

  “Justice,” said the hit man. “I can understand killing for money or because you hated someone, but they’re killing for justice. I don’t want to get involved with a group like that. After they’re done killing for their justice, they’ll only continue to kill. They’ll just stop caring who they’re killing.”

  Those were heart-wrenching words to Fukuzawa, and he almost uttered a cry.

  “I’m not ordering you to fight them,” Fukuzawa said, managing to keep his voice calm. “They kidnapped my friend. Do you know of any place they could be keeping him?”

  The boy shot a piercing gaze at Fukuzawa. His eyes were open wide.

  “…I’ve got no reason to tell you.”

  “True,” agreed Fukuzawa. “But if you do tell me, I wouldn’t mind testifying that the secretary’s death this morning was the result of an accident during a struggle. You’d be released tomorrow.”

  Something like surprise faintly wavered in the boy’s gaze. “…Are you being serious?”

  Fukuzawa nodded in silence.

  “I’m shocked.” The boy shook his head. “I didn’t think you were the kind of person who would turn their back on justice for a deal.”

  Fukuzawa himself was just as taken aback. Never once had he made a deal with a criminal. However, it was surprisingly easy for him to make this decision. Maybe he would regret things by tomorrow. Maybe he would remember this decision and feel guilty one day. But now, at this moment, there was neither contradiction nor regret in Fukuzawa’s heart.

  He had to save Ranpo…because Ranpo was an idiot. He was naive and rash and still just a kid who didn’t think through things far enough. In fact, he was foolish enough to use himself as bait to lure out the real culprit.

  Fukuzawa had come to this conclusion on his way to the underground prison. Ranpo allowed himself to be kidnapped to lure out the enemy, and he intended to have Fukuzawa save him. That was probably a flawless plan to Ranpo. It was probably the only way to drag out the real culprit, who would never show their face in public otherwise.

  If that was what Ranpo was thinking, then that would make him extremely foolish.

  Fukuzawa had to find Ranpo, but if he were outnumbered and outclassed when he found the enemy’s hideout, then Ranpo would still be killed. They weren’t the kind of people who would let someone live after they knew the truth. What Ranpo thought was a bright idea was not even worth considering from Fukuzawa’s point of view. It was as foolish as swimming in a swamp in the middle of winter, and that was exactly why Fukuzawa couldn’t abandon him.

  “So? Will you take the deal?”

  The assassin stared at Fukuzawa for a few moments.

  “This facility isn’t that bad,” admitted the boy as he looked around the room. “Besides, I can escape whenever I want on my own, so your offer isn’t worth it.”

  It would take at least a fully armed platoon to escape from this facility. And yet, Fukuzawa’s gut told him that this boy wasn’t lying.

  “Then what would be worth your time?”

  The boy quietly stared at the floor for a few seconds.

  “I’ve been working alone as an assassin for as long as I can remember,” he began. “I’ve never wanted friends or a boss, but…seeing a master martial artist like you compromise your principles to save one of your men… It makes me kinda jealous. He must be the happiest guy in the world to have you as his boss.”

  Fukuzawa was about to correct him.

  Ranpo wasn’t his subordinate, and he wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s boss. If anything, he was the same as this boy. He avoided organizations and bonding with others.

  However, what came out of Fukuzawa’s mouth was:

  “You think so?”

  The words that slipped off his tongue were completely different from what he wanted to say. The boy quietly nodded.

  “I heard they use a few buildings to do business. You should probably start checking the ones closest first.”

  Fukuzawa was at a loss for words until the boy looked up at him.

  “This place gives me a bed, and it’s got air-conditioning, but the food’s awful,” said the boy. “I heard you had some influence over the higher-ups in the police force. Could you hook me up? That’s all I need.”

  Fukuzawa slightly narrowed his eyes, then asked, “Any requests?”

  The boy gave the faintest of smirks. He then replied:

  “Curry.”

  “Listen, Master Detective Ranpo. This is the best deal you are going to get. It’s either you take the deal, or they squeeze the information out of you. Which is it going to be? I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate.”

  Mitamura took a step forward. Sitting in a chair and swinging his legs about, Ranpo absentmindedly replied, “‘Negotiate’? I have no intention of negotiating, and when the conversation doesn’t interest me, it just goes in one ear and out the other. Just sounds like a cow mooing to me. Moooo.”

  Mitamura’s eyebrow suddenly twitched. Still, he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to hold back his emotions.

  “Listen, Ranpo. You’re extremely lucky that I’m the one here negotiating with you. The others probably would have sawed off your toes by now. But I saw your marvelous skill, which is why I’m being sincere when I—”

  “Oh, hey. There it is again. Moooo.”

  “…Rrgh!” Mitamura reflexively reached for the gun at his waist. His hand trembled in rage as he tried to control himself. As the tension in his muscles shook his arm, he said, “I am trying…to treat you like an adult. My job at the theater was to make sure the plan went smoothly and to deal with the aftermath. If you’re out of the picture, then nobody will ever know what really happened. And yet, here I am opening up to you, telling you the truth, and trying to negotiate with you like a grown man. I am doing all of this in good faith.”

  “That would sound a lot more convincing without the vein bulging out of your forehead. What you’re saying is I better work for you or you’ll kill me. Where’s the good faith in that? Besides, people at the top like me do what they want.” Ranpo shrugged. “In any case, we’re talking about me, a genius detective and skill user. Did you really think I’d let you take me all the way outside of town to be threatened without a plan?”

  “…!”

  Mitamura reflexively pulled his gun on Ranpo, but Ranpo simply looked down the barrel. “…You’re lying,” said Mitamura. “I searched you. You didn’t have a transmitter.”

  “That’s because I don’t need one.” Ranpo’s lips slightly curled, and the muscles around Mitamura’s jaw tensed.

  “Fine. Then let me be honest with you. It pisses me off that a brat like you ruined our plan, and your arrogance gets on my nerves. So your skill lets you see the truth? So what? A pathetic skill like that wouldn’t even be able to stop a single bullet.”

  He pulled back the hammer with his thumb. There was a click.

  “But even then, I tried to be nice to you for the sake of our supreme purpose—to rid this country of the scum that plagues it—those who bring chaos—the parasites that eat away at the framework of the nation—in other words, the skill users.”

  “I see. So ‘V’ is an organization of skill users that banded together to get rid of other skill users, huh?” Ranpo faintly smiled.

  “We use anything we can for our purpose, whether it be a skill user or a man hiding behind the witness protection program. That’s our—” />
  Mitamura’s hand holding the pistol trembled. His finger tightened around the trigger.

  “Get on with it already. If you’re gonna shoot me, then do it,” taunted Ranpo as he gazed into the barrel. “Oh, but wait another five seconds first, okay? Because if my predictions are correct, then in three…two…”

  A blinding flash of light flooded the room.

  The glass windows shattered. A black shadow then leaped into the room and landed before spinning around.

  “…?!”

  Mitamura stood paralyzed. He couldn’t even hold his gun up anymore; the silhouette that had jumped in through the window was expelling enough bloodlust to kill a lion. Immediately, Mitamura was knocked into the corner of the room.

  “Gwah…!”

  After slamming him against the wall, the shadow grabbed Mitamura’s collar and swiftly threw him before he could even fall to the ground. The speed of the throw created the afterimage of an arc in the air. This throwing technique would usually be referred to as seoi nage—a shoulder throw—in jujutsu. However, a move where the opponent was launched into the ceiling before slamming into the ground with no loss of speed was beyond the scope of a shoulder throw. It was as if Mitamura had been hit by a train before losing consciousness.

  Bathing in the town’s nighttime illumination, the silhouette’s shadow stretched as he stood in the center of the room. The silent warrior stood as his clothes gently fluttered.

  “Fukuzawa!” Ranpo shouted with glee.

  “How many are left?”

  “Five!”

  At that moment, footsteps ran down the hallway outside the room. There was only one door. The first soldier rushed inside. In the blink of an eye, Fukuzawa grabbed the man’s wrist as he lifted his gun and began flipping him vertically in the air—kote gaeshi, a throwing technique in aikido that uses the opponent’s momentum against them. As the soldier was soaring in the air, Fukuzawa further twisted his opponent’s arm and slammed him into the wall. The soldier passed out, unable to pull the trigger, never mind even seeing the man who knocked him unconscious.

  Fukuzawa then went into the hallway. Men armed with rifles stood on each side as they rushed toward him. They got into stance to fire, but Fukuzawa had already disappeared. By the time the soldiers realized their wrists had been grabbed, they were already on the floor. In the midst of the confusion, they tried to fire their rifles, but their weapons had already vanished as well.

  Two elbow strikes hit the soldiers in the throat. Fukuzawa had the upper hand when it came to raw power, and in the instant before passing out, the soldiers only felt regret for underestimating their opponent.

  It didn’t feel like fighting against a human, or even a demon or wild animal. More specifically, it was like fighting against the laws of physics itself.

  There was no way a mere gun could defeat the laws of physics. Fukuzawa silently rushed at the next armed soldier, who tried to lift up his gun in a fluster, but Fukuzawa quickly closed the few yards between them before he could. The palm strike to the soldier’s chin let out a crack. As the man flew toward the ceiling, Fukuzawa gracefully ran past. But when he turned the corner, he found himself standing before a soldier with a submachine gun. It was an ambush.

  “Die!”

  The submachine gun could spit out seven rounds a second—and yet…the soldier couldn’t even pull the trigger. He dropped the gun, clutched at his hand, and fell to his knees. A fountain pen was sticking through his palm. After throwing the pen like a projectile with godlike speed, Fukuzawa’s sleeve fluttered open before slowly returning to normal. It was an old martial arts technique that used everyday items as weapons.

  That was the fifth one.

  “Want to keep going?” Fukuzawa asked as he approached the submachine gun–toting soldier.

  The soldier held his hand and grimaced.

  “…You…freak…!”

  He backed off in fright and ran away, leaving his weapon and his comrades behind. Fukuzawa, however, quietly watched him escape without even attempting to go after him.

  He walked over the unconscious soldiers and made his way back to the first room.

  “Wow! That was awesome!” Ranpo said enthusiastically, his face split ear to ear in a joyous grin.

  “Are you okay?”

  “That was way above and beyond my expectations! That was the best thing ever! But, hey, looks like my calculations were right. I knew you’d make it in time. Anyway, thanks to you, the real culprit—”

  Fukuzawa walked right up to Ranpo and stopped before taking in a deep breath.

  “You dumbass!!”

  Ranpo was hit with a powerful slap. An ear-piercing pop echoed throughout the room, and his glasses flew off.

  “‘Calculations’?! You knew I’d ‘make it in time’?! What was that pointing in your face when I arrived just now?! A gun, that’s what!”

  Ranpo froze after the impact of the slap made him spin halfway around. A vivid red welt grew on his cheek.

  “I…”

  “There is no such thing as ‘for sure’ in this world! If it took me even a second too long to realize what had happened—if I were even a second too late getting here—you would have been killed!”

  Ranpo was stunned as he held his cheek. “B-but I knew… I knew you would come.”

  “No, you just wanted to demonstrate what you can do!”

  Ranpo bore the full brunt of Fukuzawa’s rage. The yelling was so loud that even the glass started to shake.

  “You’re free to flaunt your gift, and you can challenge your opponents with it! But you have to stop gambling with your life! You’re still—”

  Fukuzawa didn’t know why.

  Why was he yelling this much?

  Why was he this upset?

  Why—?

  “You’re still just a kid!”

  Fukuzawa’s heart ached. He grimaced at the pain that was almost physical.

  Why did he let this child go off on his own?

  Why didn’t he go with him?

  Ranpo was still so young…and so weak…

  “Mm… Guhhh…”

  Ranpo’s lips tightened as he held his swollen red cheek. His wide-open eyes wavered as they welled with tears. Fukuzawa was immediately overcome with regret.

  He had gone too far. Ranpo probably wasn’t used to be scolded like this. Surely being yelled at and even slapped would—

  “But… But…”

  He trembled with his head hung low.

  Large tears dripped to the floor. Fukuzawa exhaled as an indescribable feeling ebbed and flowed in his heart.

  Ranpo, boy genius, orphan—nobody understood him, and he was all alone in this dark, cold universe. He was thrown out into the vast world with nobody to protect him.

  Even Fukuzawa himself was hesitant. He didn’t know how he should be there for Ranpo or how he should even treat him. And because he didn’t know what to do, Fukuzawa simply gently patted Ranpo on the head twice.

  Ranpo latched on to Fukuzawa. The tears streamed down his cheeks without end, sinking into Fukuzawa’s clothing.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so…sorry!”

  Not knowing what to do with his arms, Fukuzawa’s hands hovered in the air. With a troubled expression, he gazed out the window into the boundless silence of the night. His eyes caught a glimpse of the round moon, white as a polished mirror. He gently stared into the moon, and it smiled back.

  And then…

  The case came to a close mainly thanks to Ranpo’s efforts. The newspapers the following day were only talking about Murakami’s sham, and the playwright along with the elderly man who died at the hospital after being stabbed were processed as personal crimes committed by Officer Jun Mitamura. Regardless, Officer Mitamura was found dead in police custody after being detained. It was as if he had been stabbed by some invisible force—eerily similar to how the playwright was killed. Most likely, a skill user from the enemy organization had been dispatched to make sure no information got leaked.


  Their path to the real culprit was ostensibly severed, and the case remained more or less unsolved. However, only a small number of people involved, such as Fukuzawa and Ranpo, knew the truth: Behind it all was a domestic underground syndicate known as “V,” whose goal was to rid the country of skill users.

  And the battle against them was only beginning.

  As for Ranpo, who’d been yelled at and mercilessly slapped…

  “Hey, Fukuzawa, when’s the next case? C’mon, let’s go solve some mysteries! I’ll use my skill and solve it in a snap.”

  …he had become extremely attached to Fukuzawa.

  Not that Fukuzawa understood why, though.

  “Fine. Just stop tugging on my sleeve. You’re going to stretch it.”

  Fukuzawa softly scolded Ranpo, who cheerfully answered with an “Okay!” before letting go.

  A year had gone by since the incident. Unable to get rid of Ranpo and at his wits’ end, Fukuzawa had no choice but to temporarily hire Ranpo to help with miscellaneous duties. Fukuzawa came up with a plan. In return for food and clothing, Ranpo would be taught various odd jobs, social norms, and academics as well, for knowledge was the world’s foundation. Studying was necessary to live, just as oxygen was needed to survive. That was the principle by which Fukuzawa lived.

  And that…was how Fukuzawa lost his job. His job was to guard his clients, but whenever he brought Ranpo to help with the paperwork, Ranpo would swiftly figure out who the risk factor for the client was and where they were…before Fukuzawa ever even needed to guard anyone. Fukuzawa couldn’t simply ignore what Ranpo was doing, so he removed the risk factor as he was pressed to do. Before long, there was no longer any need to guard the client. Some people even began to request that only Ranpo came. Fukuzawa was on the verge of unemployment thanks to this sudden turn.