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The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A (5)

This is the translation from page 52 to page 62 of Side A of the Dazai novel which was given out as free bonus for those who come to the cinema to watch the BEAST live action movie in Japan.

Please carefully read the notes below before progressing.

- This post contains spoilers. If you plan to read the novel later yourself and think this would ruin your expectation, please stop here.

· I tried to keep the translation as accurate as possible, but as I don’t speak English or Japanese as my native language, I may make some mistakes or use weird words etc. This translation might not be final. I may come back and fix it later if I find any mistakes.

· This is a moviegoers-only benefit, so please be extra careful when discussing it about on Twitter. Use a #spoilers tag on your tweets or your fanarts. You can share the links to this post but don’t take many screenshots.

· Don’t retranslate it. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation anywhere else out of Tumblr.

· DON’T GO TO THE AUTHORS’ OR OFFICIAL TWITTERS TO COMMENT ABOUT THE CONTENTS OF IT.

I’m sorry if that’s too much but honestly all I want is for everyone to have a good experience, for those who wants to read the novels to be able to read the novels, and for those who don’t want to be spoiled, to be safe from it as much as possible.

If you have read and are okay with all the above, please continue to move forward and enjoy the novel. Have a good day!

...

A series of pictures float in and out of my mind.

A coffee shop. A blue rain leaving water droplets on the glass of the store. A novel with only the first and the middle volume.

Regret. Blood patterns on the wall.

“There is no mercy in this world.”

That is the voice of the younger me.

That’s right. No-one can forgive themselves. I will not forgive myself either.

Last volume of the novel.

“Writing novels is writing people.”

The man with the mustache. There is a ring of truth in his voice. Or perhaps I just want to believe that.

To answer that question, I have set my foot on a long track.

One day in a room with a view of the ocean, I will walk to my desk and…

When I wake up, I can’t tell where I am right away.

There is a wall in front of me. A bare concrete wall. A dark and damp wall, with black marks of water dripping, staining the color of the material. I can see nothing else. Even if I turn my head around, all I can see is that wall. I cannot turn my body.

I am being tied to a chair.

“Before we start, let me tell you this.” There is a voice behind my back. I have heard this voice before. “I don’t like violence.”

I remember whose voice that is. That is the older cop who came to my house.

“I don’t like it when people use violence. I don’t like to use it either. So just think about this as business.”

Sound of something cutting through the wind.

An intense pain gouges into my back the very next moment. My skin tears off, my bones crack.

Something hard has struck my back. A baton, a gun grip, or probably a blackjack.

The attacker is still out of my sight. There is only pain that shoots through my nerves and pierces into my brain.

“It works, right?” the guy starts speaking. His voice is soft, as if he is lecturing a kid. “I went easy on you. I know very well how much pain one can tolerate, and at what point it will become unbearable. I have wielded this for decades.”

“There are still things you don’t know.” I say.

The man’s voice goes silent for a second, then he speaks in a hard voice. “What?”

“You don’t know how to torture.” I say. “If you are going to hurt your victim, you have to ask questions first. What’s the point of hurting them before you ask? You’re just tiring both of us out.”

I can sense a snort of laughter.

Following that is another blow, this time close to my neck. A flash bounces through my entire body. Starting from my neck, the pain feels as if every single nerve in my body is being pulled out. This one is stronger than the last.

“You are right, young man. This is not a textbook interrogation.” says the voice behind my back. “But there are times when everything should be done according to the textbook, and there are times when it should not. I know that much. This is just a preparation for you to open your mouth more smoothly later. So, rest assured.”

“Good to know.” I say, keeping my eyes on the wall. “So let’s get back to the main point… If it’s about those counterfeit notes, I know absolutely nothing.”

The notes that Dazai was carrying. The source of all this. The huge bomb that Dazai, the messenger of calamity, has brought in.

It is not a surprise that such perfect notes can get intelligent agencies of other countries involved.

However, the guy’s reaction after that betrays all of my expectations.

“… counterfeit notes?”

That voice with a question mark attached to it floats unreliably and fluffily in the air, before it unravels and disappears.

My instinct tells me that it is a voice of perplexity.

“You don’t know about the fake money?” I ask. “Isn’t that what you are after, the counterfeit money and Dazai?” “That friend of yours is called Dazai? Who is he?”

I am going to say Port Mafia, but I shallow the words back in my throat. I should not tell them about Dazai’s identity if the money is not what they are after.

“There seems to be some misunderstandings here. I should clear that up first. We are here for you.”

“What?”

“Where’s the painting?”

The guy asks in a hard, commanding tone. I quietly think about what he means, then I answer.

“What do you mean by “painting”?”

“You know what it is.”

His voice is assertive and solemn, the voice of someone pushing another off a cliff.

“You guys stole a painting from a house you visited on business a long time ago. We are looking for it.”

“I have not a single idea what you are talking about.” I say. “Are you sure you are not mistaking me for someone else?”

Before I can finish my sentence, another blow comes down. This time on my shoulder. I can feel my veins breaking. Every part of my body from my neck down to my fingertips become numb.

“I’m not. We don’t make mistakes like that.” The guy’s voice is preserving, as if he is suppressing the emotions with his will power. “You were a member of that organization. Those cold-blooded guys who take money and kill in return. I don’t know what kind of thing you did in there, but I guess you were probably just a treasurer or a liaison. Because you are only a postman with no presence now. However, that organization itself was a big shot. You can even call it a legend. Before it suddenly disbanded and vanished seven years ago, it was a synonym of “fear” in “that” side of the world. We searched for the organization and somehow ended up finding only you. The other members have completely disappeared, as if they never existed in the first place.”

“I don’t want to talk about that organization.” I say.

“You will, young man. You will soon, whether you want to or not.”

I can hear the plonk of the club behind my back as he plays with it in his hands. “That painting is worth 500 million yen. One billion if you are lucky. If you need it, we can even give you a share. You won’t be able to handle it anyway.”

“You are making a mistake.” I say quietly. “It’s true that I know about said organization. I was a member of it for a while. But I don’t know about that painting. Not a little bit.”

“If you don’t know anything about it, is it possible that other members have hidden the painting?”

“Very likely so.”

The man sighs. His voice after that sounds five years older. “It’s always like this. We walk around like hungry stray dogs, following the scent of food and sticking our noses to the ground. And when we think we have finally got there, the food has long been trucked off to another place. We again, twitch our noses and chase after the smell of the truck through the dry wilderness. Again and again.”

“I am sorry for that.” I say.

In fact, it is half true when I say that. After all, they have kidnapped Dazai, just because he happens to be with me. Dazai is not a person you should treat like an add-on for your mail-order stuff. Not in any sense. He is a Port Mafioso, and as I imagine, a very important one at that. It is too late to do anything, now that they have already kidnapped him. Even if they wash him clean, mend his clothes, and return him sparkling new respectfully with their heads low, Port Mafia will not forgive that. They will use an electric excavator to level flat the back of the heads of those who are kneeling on the ground begging for forgiveness.

Therefore, the doom for these kidnappers is already decided. The question now is whether Dazai and I will be doomed too.

I cannot talk about Port Mafia. That is no good. If they know that Dazai is a Port Mafioso, these guys will literally shrivel up. They will curse their own stupidity and try to cover it up with yet another stupidity. In other words, they will bury the two of us under deep concrete, and use the little time they have before being found out to escape to the other side of the world. There is no other way.

That is why I have to keep Dazai as my “mysterious friend”.

“Now that you have all the information you need to tell the story.” The man speaks in a chilly voice, “All you have to do is to chirp beautifully. If you need a little help there, I don’t mind giving it my best to assist.”

He sounds somewhat happy. I can hear him slamming the club into his own hand. At this rate, I will be the one who has his bones crushed. (TN: There is a play of words here. The cop is using the expression 粉骨砕身, to say that he will try his best, but the kanji translated directly to “crushed bones and smashed flesh”, so Oda is using the same wording to talk about his own situation right now.)

“What if I don’t talk?” I ask.

“You will regret it. Like a criminal who just receives a warrant, wishing that he would have sung honestly when he was asked to come voluntarily earlier.”

He is about to say something else, but his radio rings before he can.

“What’s up?” he picks up the radio. I cannot hear what they are saying, but I can sense the urgency in his tone. “Got it. I’ll be right there. Handcuff them.”

He hangs up, his footsteps getting farther away. After walking a few steps, the man says from a distance. “I will give you some time to think about it. No one is coming to help you. This is an evacuation bunker built during the old war. It’s time to make a choice. You can become rich, or become a corpse for the rats to feast on. I hope you make the right decision for everyone to be happy.”

***

Dazai returns to the cell when I have just finished checking the shape of the fingernails on my two cuffed hands for the fiftieth time.

“Hey, it’s been a while.” Dazai says with an indistinct smile that is not at the very least different from before he was kidnapped.

I look at Dazai and ask, “You were not tortured?”

“Torture? Ah! So that was torture?” Dazai says, somewhat cheerful. “I was tied up and surrounded by two guys. But they left before doing anything. They were dragged away by their friends. I just told them something useful, and they started crying and hitting each other, saying they didn’t want to die.”

“I see. What did you tell them?”

“I can tell you… But do you really want to know?” Dazai smiles like a sea monster from the underworld.

I give it a little thought and say, “I will pass.”

It is a temporary cell used to keep the prisoners in the war. Originally, it must have been a simple nap room inside the bunker to protect yourself from air strikes and such. The room is about the size of a hotel room, with only a rusty bed frame fixed to the end. The entrance door has been replaced by an iron door with fresh welding marks, and there is a thick chain used for boat anchoring and a huge lock hanging from the doorknob. A number of black power lines are wrapped around the hooks lining up on the wall, leading to the murky cage lamp at the back of the room. That is the only light source. There is no air conditioning, so the air in the room is unclean.

“What do you think they are?” I ask.

“A criminal organization.” Dazai speaks nonchalantly, jingling his own handcuffs.

“But they are different from big settings like Port Mafia. Just a small group that will vanish with just a blow. However, its origin is a little interesting. Have you ever heard about an organization called “48”?”

I shake my head after giving it some thoughts, “No.”

“This is actually my first time meeting them too. They are harder to spot than any other criminal organization. It is almost impossible. Even if a great purge is to happen and this Yokohama turns into a clean paradise, they will still survive and continue to commit crimes. It is because they are an organization made up entirely of former cops.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Officers from local stations, special forces members who were dishonorably discharged. Corrupted cops released from prison after their arrests. Police of external affairs who are on the list of distrusted agents. This is a small but robust labyrinth organization built by police personnel who, for various reasons, have fallen from the tower of public servants through utilizing the skills, connections, and knowledge from their former jobs. There are a lot of theories about the name “48” but the most popular one is that it’s because the police have to refer a case to the public prosecutor within forty eight hours of arrest.

“That means the cops who came to our house were fake, but they used to be real cops too?” I say while recalling my memory. “But how do you know?”

“You couldn’t tell? Their gestures somehow revealed their past history, and every word they say is mixed with the terms used when they were still in the police.”

I track my memory.

Now that he mentions it, the guy who tortured me said this before he left, “You will regret it. Like a criminal who just receives a warrant, wishing that he would have sung honestly when he was asked to come voluntarily earlier.” He used a police shorthand to refer to “voluntary accompaniment”, and “sing” is a term used by the police for “confess”. I guess they just use the words that they are familiar with when talking to their friends.

“What they are good at is blackmailing people using the connections from their former jobs, diverting seized goods to sell on black market, and leaking inside information about the police. They are the fallen ex-heroes. Although the scale of their activities is small, many of them have received real trainings, thus are formidable. There are many criminal organizations in Yokohama, but this “48” is hated by both the police and other organizations.”

“You sure know a lot.”

“Not really. Unfortunately, I don’t know what they are up to.” Dazai says as he leans against the wall. “They said they were looking for a painting. Do you have any idea?”

I look at Dazai, then I say. “No.”

Dazai looks at me. Those eyes are like the bottomless see at night. Dark, cruel, quiet, endlessly sucking people in and never letting go.

Those eyes are looking at every corner of my expression. I feel like my each and every single cell is being observed.

I wonder how long we stay silent like that. Suddenly, Dazai opens his mouth and speaks in a serious tone.

“You do have a hint, don’t you?”

I let my gaze wander through the air, then look at a scenery of the past that is not here. I want a cigarette so bad. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” I say, sitting down next to Dazai. “No matter what those guys say, that painting is no longer in anyone’s hand. It is in a place that it will never be moved from. That painting is not going anywhere, at least not during my lifetime.”

“Why?”

“Because I decided so.”

Dazai tries to say something, but he stops. Then he lets his gaze wander somewhere else, as if he is looking for an answer.

“Got it”, Dazai says, looking forward. “Then let’s end this conversation here and talk about what we are going to do next.”

I find it strange that Dazai retreated so meekly. If he can make me spill out the whereabout of the painting, Dazai can get out of here without a scratch. But Dazai’s eyes are quiet, inside them is a gentle indifference of someone who has already made up his mind. I cannot tell the reason though.

“So, what are we doing next?”

“Jailbreak.” I assert. “I have no reason to stay in this kind of place anymore.”

“That is a good idea.” Dazai says, holding up his two hands. “But how?”

We are both handcuffed. These handcuffs are not toys or replicas, they are the real things used by the cops. On top of it, there is a lock on the entrance too. I saw the guy who brought Dazai here just now locking the door. There is no mistaking it.

“I have something that can get us out of here.” I say. “But there is also one thing that I can’t do anything about. Reason.”

“Reason?”

”You don’t want to escape, do you?”

Dazai looks at me with a puzzled look on his face. Then he says, “Are you going to help me?”

“I thought I would, but you have no reasons to do so. No reasons to accompany me and get out of here.”

Dazai looks around. “You are right. I can still kill myself if I stay here. So never mind me. Just escape by yourse…”

“I will take you with me even if I have to put a rope on your neck.”

Dazai looks at me, surprised.

“You… Are you actually a pushy guy?”

“When it comes to things that I have decided to do.” I say, focusing my attention on the signs outside. There seems to be no one on the other side of the door.

“What makes you do this?”

“I don’t like these guys.”

I say decisively. Dazai makes a surprised face again. “48? Why? Because they used to be cops? Or because they are aiming for the painting?

“Things like that.” I answer briefly, ending the conversation. “Dazai, if I ask, will you come with me?”

“Well, I wonder. I’m not that kind of nice guy who listen to others’ requests that easily. Everyone has a hard time getting me to do anything. What can you offer?”

I have to admit, those words are out of my expectation.

“You think that I can give you what you want?”

“I don’t know.” Dazai smiles as if he has given up. “I really don’t know. I have never met anyone like you before. That’s why I’m asking you.”

I start thinking.

I have a hint of what Dazai is looking for. But I don’t have it on hand to give it to him.

However…

_The only thing I want now, is death._

_Why do we have to die?_

“Dazai”, I say. “As soon as we get out of here, let’s go to “that place”. Right away. It’s not that far away.”

Dazai’s eyes are wide open. “You say “that place”? That you-are-a-fool-if-you-don’t-go-before-you-die place?”

“Yes.”

Dazai blinks and looks at me. I look straight back into his eyes.

I am not sure why but it reminds me of something from a long time ago. From when I was a boy.

“Dazai… You are right. There is no good or bad in wanting to die. Because there seems to be many important things in this world, but in reality, there is nothing that important. Life and death don’t even matter at all. The place we are going to is probably not going to live up to your expectations. Maybe you will find only rocks, scraps of paper, and things of such value there.”

Dazai stares blankly at me, as if he cannot believe what is happening in front of his eyes.

I look at the palm of my hand. I touch it with my finger, feeling the sensation. I touch a few more places, as a mean to buy time, until I finally say the last words.

“But what if it is different?”

Silence.

I have never tried to get this close to anyone’s heart before. I don’t feel like I did it well. But strangely enough, I do not regret it that much. Even if I don’t say it here and now, I will probably say it to Dazai somewhere sometime in the future. I feel that.

Dazai does not say anything. He just sighs, and looks into a distance with his arms crossed behind his head, as if he is considering. The chain clanks. “I too, have been caught by a person who says pretty foolish things.” Then he turns to the side to hide his expression and glances at me sideways. “Secret place, right…? If you have asked that much, it’s not like I can’t go with you.”

I lift my eyebrows, “You are not being honest.”

“It’s not that! It’s not that I’m not honest or anything! It’s not like I… expect that much!”

I scratch my head. “Then let’s do it this way. If you die here, I will build a tomb for you. And your tombstone will read, “Here lies Dazai, the man who never beats Oda Sakunosuke at poker.”

Dazai looks at me dumbfounded. Then he opens his mouth wide and says. “Th.. that’s not good! Alright! It cannot be helped then. Let’s break out of this prison.”

Dazai stands up, holds up his hand and snaps his fingers.

The handcuffs, which are supposed to be tightly fastened, fall off smoothly like a magic trick.

“You took them off from the beginning, didn’t you?”

“A little bit, with the metal wire I found over there.”

“Will that work on the door lock too?”

“Of course.” Dazai says as if it is nothing. Then he suddenly realizes something and turns to me. “No way… when you said you had something that can get us out of here, you were talking about me with this?”

I shrug, “After nursing you for a few days, the chains that bound your legs to the bed was stealthily unlocked. It seems like they have been stacked up to deceive me though.”

“What? I have been found out? How boring.” Dazai pouts.

Dazai takes my handcuffs, sticks the tiny wire inside the keyhole and starts turning it. Immediately, there is a dry metallic sound as the internal mechanism disengages. The handcuffs drop to my feet.

“How long has it been, I wonder? To have somewhere I want to go.” Dazai smiles as he rubs his wrists. “I have a feeling that even if there is nothing at that place, it will be fine as it is. Come on, let’s get out of here quickly and get some good fresh air.”

….

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