★Text-only translations for this chapter can be viewed here!★
Hey, Ikkaku? I don’t think that’s how brains work :\
Also quick announcement: there will NOT be a Nanbaka upload next week on Sunday, as I will be busy with packing and moving back to the States. I’ll see if I can upload another chapter at a different time either this or next week, but for now do not expect an upload at the usual time this Sunday. Thanks for ur understanding, and stay safe out there y’all ‘v’)b
★Disclaimer★
I do translations purely as a hobby for practice and fun, so please understand if they’re imperfect or contain mistakes. Furthermore, in compliance with the author’s request I will be doing text translations ONLY, no exceptions. Asks, messages, tags or comments calling for translated comic uploads will be deleted or ignored. If you’re confused on how to use comico, check out this guide here.
There is a short manga that is published every week that’s only 2 or 3 pages for each episode! It is called SK8 Chill Out! I’m going through and translating all the ones out so far and I will update this post as the chapters are published to keep them together!
Trick 1
Trick 2
Trick 3
Trick 4
Trick 5
Trick 6
Trick 7
Trick 8
Trick 9
Trick 9.5
Trick 10
Trick 11
Trick 12
After the Series finished the author went back and is creating more detailed comics for each episode! Still joke comics though so more of the same <3
This is the translation from page 11 to page 18 of Side B 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.
I HIGHLY recommend you to read Side A first before moving on to this one, especially part 2-5 for more context, better understanding, and easier comparison between the two sides. You can find the link to the tag with all Side A translations I have done in my pinned post.
Please also 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. Don’t repost this 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!
...
The time the police appear at my house, is one of those times.
“Excuse me, we are from S River Station. Someone reported seeing a man covered in blood collapsing in this neighborhood. Can we ask you a few things?”
Through the window designed for lighting on the door, I see male figures. Two of them.
I freeze. I am in the middle of boiling water to make coffee in the kitchen at that time.
“Excuse me. This is the police. Is anyone home?”
The unreserved knocking shakes the door again and again. I glance at the young man. The young man whose name I don’t know. He is not showing any human-like reaction even to the voices outside.
What will happen if they find him? I quickly think. In all probability, this guy has been involved in some kind of criminal activities. And he is also seeing and committing crimes like breathing… Someone from the other side, the side of the night. Otherwise, there is no way someone who had been shot all over his body like that would not have gone to the hospital. In other words, the cops will see him as a treasure, instead of an injured person. So that they can improve their arrest record.
On the other hand, I haven’t committed any crime so far. I just took care of an injured person I saw. It is the duty of a citizen to report as soon as they find someone with gunshot wounds, but if I tell them, “I didn’t realize it was caused by gun”, the cops will have no choice but to back down. Like, I thought he was stabbed or something. It is not that difficult to identify a gunshot wound, but there is currently no crime defined in the criminal law for failing to do so.
In other words, even if I sell this young man to the cops, I can walk away without any claim.
I walk to the front door. To talk to the cops.
I will come up with an excuse to send them away. I think so. If I am going to sell this young man here and now, I would not have treated his wounds in the first place.
But that stupid dedication of mine can’t be achieved. Something completely out of my expectation has happened. The young man rushes to the door.
He is ridiculously fast. Like a tightly shrunken spring being released in an instant. He slams open the front door and attacks the cops.
It is an unpredictable action for everyone. It never crosses my mind that he can possess such agility. He leaps with a speed no one can expect from an injured person, and jumps onto the shoulder of the surprised cop, before sinking his fingers into the man’s face.
The cop lets out a brief scream. He goes berserk and slams the young man against the wall near the doorway. But still the youth doesn’t let him go. He clings onto the cop in a piggyback position, and shoves the fingers on both of his hands into the man’s ears. He put all the strength in as if he is trying to rip his ears apart. From the young man’s throat comes a fierce roar of a beast. He pulls his fingers out. The fingertips are soaked in blood. He thrusts them in again.
The cop uses his free arms to grab his attacker’s body and falls into the room just like that. The wooden floor makes a cracking sound as it breaks.
The slightly younger cop who isn’t attacked finally pulls out his gun as if he just remembers it now. That is a swing-out double-action revolver. He aims it at the young man.
No warning is made. I see the future where that gun is fired.
I start to move too. I approach the cop and grab his pistol. I slide my thumb between the barrel and the firing pin. This way, the firing pin won’t be able to hit the primer and the bullet will not come out.
I look at the cop. He looks back at me angrily.
There is a light sound of something dropping behind my back.
Something metallic. I want to look back but I am in a bad position. My right hand is holding the gun. The wall is on my left. I cannot turn around. This is bad.
Something white is weaving at the edge of my vision.
I didn’t see the moment that thing was thrown. But it is probably the cop who threw it. Because I don’t stock such dangerous things at home. A gas grenade.
That is a black, cylindrical personal weapon. It emits non-lethal coma gas. It lasts for twelve seconds, and can emit 2.8 kiloliters of gas. This gas was once used as a substitute for anesthesia for surgery in the Great War. Those who inhale it will find their consciousness fading away. It depends on the concentration of the gas, but generally most will faint before they can even count to ten. If inhaled in large volume, it can be fatal.
I grab my mouth and nose with my hand. Then I try to find the young man. A gas grenade is not something city police officers can carry around on patrol.
These guys are not cops.
But something is moving at the edge of my vision. The younger cop has let go of his gun and thrown himself at me.
We tangle together and fall onto the floor. He hits my chest so hard that all the air left in my lung is pushed out.
The white smoke wriggles in and fills my vision as I roll on the floor. It is as if I have fallen into the bottom of a white sea. But I can only see that white for a short moment.
I cough, breathe in the gas and lose consciousness almost instantly.
***
There is a sound.
A cold and damp sound.
It is so familiar that it does not sound like a meaningful sound at first. It is a sound that will slip past your consciousness, like the sound of dead leaves rolling, or a train passing by in a distance, that kind of noise. However, it cannot be the same as those noises.
Because it is the sound of Oda Sakunosuke being beaten.
The sound is low and muffled. It does not sound dangerous. It sounds like a sand bag falling. But it is, in fact, a dangerous sound.
Dazai knows that.
Because he has been living with it soaking up to his throat for a dauntingly long amount of time.
“Before we start, let me tell you this.” said a voice. The voice of an aged man.
“I don’t like violence.”
The man is holding a blackjack as he speaks. Dazai sees that. Dazai is looking at the man. He is looking hard at him. Through those sharp and dark eyes behind the face hidden by bandages.
“I don’t like it when people use violence. I don’t like to use it either. So just think about this as business.”
The club is swung down. On the back of the tied up Odasaku. Dazai is staring at that.
Dazai is standing in the corridor of the bunker, where it is completely dark. The distance between him and Odasaku is more than ten meters. Because of the darkness and the distance, Odasaku and the other guy cannot see Dazai. In fact, they wouldn’t even notice Dazai if he came within an arm’s reach. That is how much Dazai has melt into a dense shadow and become one with the darkness himself.
Dazai is looking. He is simply looking hard at Odasaku being beaten.
The club being swung down. Odasaku groaning.
Seeing that violence doesn’t even make his eyes move. His eyes are as still as those of a dead man, not showing the slightest flicker of emotion.
However, every time the club goes down, Dazai’s fingers twitch. His joints automatically jump and his muscles tense up. And every time, thin white streaks rise to the surface of his fingers. His fingers bend as if they are grasping something invisible. It is as if he himself is being beaten.
Dazai has become one with the darkness. That is why no one is able to find Dazai.
However, the elder torturer reacts to the killing intention he emits, which pulsates with every downswing of the club.
“Who is that?”
The man turns around toward the darkness. He can’t see anything. The darkness is deep and dense as mud.
He stops the torture and walks out, to check if anyone is there. Because he cannot help it. Because his experience is giving him a warning.
He finally reaches the place where Dazai was.
However, there is already no one there.
There is only darkness. As if no one was there from the beginning. It’s as if darkness has taken the form of Dazai, and has finally turned back to the original darkness and disappeared.
The man is confused. There is only the unchanging, endless darkness that has been there since the beginning of time.
This is the first few pages of Side B of the new 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.
I said on Twitter that I will not spoil Side B any time soon, but as I have finished the translation for the first part of Side A, I think there is already enough context to move on with this one. Actually, it's pretty interesting to read and compare between 2 sides.
For that reason, I HIGHLY recommend you to read the first 3 parts of Side A that I have translated first, before moving on to this one, for better understanding. You can find the link to the tag with all Side A translations I have done in my pinned post.
Please also carefully read the notes below before progressing.
- This post contains spoilers. It is not a summary, but a full translation of the first few pages of the novel. So 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 #spoiler 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. Don’t repost this anywhere else out of Tumblr. If you ever decide to do it without my permission, at least don't mention my name. I don't need the credits for that.
· 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 bloody corpse of a young man is lying on my front porch.
I look down at the corpse, then at the front of the house. It is a quiet morning. The apartment across the street is casting a long black shadow on the pavement in front of me. The trumpet vines planted in the hedge are rustling in the breeze, and whispering to each other in a way that human cannot decipher. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the sound of the long-distance trucks scraping against the road surface. And there is a corpse in the middle of the stairs in front of me.
In any case, to our eyes, a corpse is always a strangely exaggerated presence. But this time it is different. This corpse blends in with the landscape, becoming one with the everyday peaceful morning scenery. After a while, I realize the reason. The corpse’s chest is moving up and down faintly. It is not a corpse, it is alive.
I look at the young man. He is all black. A high-collar black cloak, a three-piece suit, a black tie. The things that are not black are his button-down shirt, and the bandages around his head. This one is a mottled color of white and red. This color pattern reminds me of some ominous Chinese prophetic characters. The place he is lying is the middle of the stairs that leads to the front porch. The blood stains continuing down the cracked concrete stairs looks like he has been crawling.
Question. What should I do with this nearly-corpse in front of my eyes?
The answer is simple. If I touch him with the tips of my toes and put some weight on him, he will just roll down to the ground below. If I do so, then he will not be on my premise anymore. He will be on a public road. The country’s territory. All those who are in trouble within the territory of the country should be saved by the mercy of the country. An ordinary postman like me should go home and have breakfast.
I am not doing that because I am a cold and heartless person. I am doing that because it is a survival necessity. The young man’s wounds are clearly from gunshots. He has been shot multiple times. There are probably more holes in his body than I can see from here.
I look at the young man, at the road, and the sky, and at him again.
And then I start to act. First, I approach the guy and lift him up by his sides. Then I drag him by his heels into the house and lay him down on the wall-mounted bed. He is much lighter than he looks. Carrying him alone is not that much of a trouble. I check his wounds. There are many deep wounds, and the bleeding is not usual, but if he receives immediate proper treatment, it is not like he will die.
I take out my medical kit box from the back of the closet, and give him some simple first aid treatments. I put a towel under his upper body, cut his clothes with a pair of scissors to expose the wounds, and check if there is any bullet left inside. In order to stop the blood flow, I apply pressure on the pressure points: below the armpits, inner elbows, ankles, backs of knees, and tie them tightly with a clean cloth. Then I put disinfected tourniquets to the wounds to stop the bleeding. Fortunately for him, I can do this kind of first aid even with my eyes closed.
After I am done with the treatment, I look down at the young man and cross my arms. His breathing has stabilized. His respiratory system and bones seem to be intact. But he does not seem to be waking up. “It’s fine already, just kick him out.”, I can hear the angel’s voice in my head. There is nothing more stupid than treating a suspicious guy like this. I guess I should listen to that voice. That is what a wise man would do.
Before following the angel’s advice, I take another look at the young man. I don’t recognize his face. Probably not someone I know. I say probably, because the bandages covering most of his face makes it impossible to make out his features.
I feel an uneasiness in my chest.
There is something strange about this young man. It is impossible to say that seeing someone covered in blood in front of your house is not strange, but I am feeling a completely different kind of discomfort than when I first saw him. I go around and look at his face. His eyes are closed. His face is pale and tired. His breathing is so faint that it is hard to tell without paying close attention. But still, I feel a strange power coming from his presence. It’s like will power, a certain sense of trust in his own body. And more specifically, right…
It is as if the whole thing about him collapsing here is all according to his plan.
The young man opens his eyes and looks at me.
I am startled and jump up. I didn’t notice when he opened his eyes at all. He moves without any sign of movement. He looks without a sign of looking. He seems to be one of “those people”, the kind of people you will never encounter if you are to lead a normal life.
Those eyes.
I’m not a person with an excellent observation skill. But even so, just by looking at those eyes, I understand a few things right away. He probably has killed before. Not one or two digits. Hundreds of people. When you have killed that many people, you will reach the other side of the mentality that ordinary humans can possess, beyond the other shore where neither light nor gravity can reach. The spirit of those who have reached that state will be seen first in their eyes, then in their mouth. Their eyeballs become black holes, and the muscles around their mouth become organs to show the depth of their sin, not their facial expressions.
And I also know one more thing instantly.
This young man knows me.
“Who are you?”
I ask without thinking.
The voice coming out of my mouth is so cracked, I cannot believe that it’s my own voice. If I didn’t hold my leg strong, it would have backed up a step on its own.
“Who are you?”
I ask again. There is no answer. I don’t even know if he is listening. Because the light in his eyes show no reactions to my question. No matter how cold-hearted a person is, if you look at him in the eyes and throw words at him, you can still see some kind of responses. But this young man does not have any of that. Just black eyes looking at where my figure is.
I cannot say anything much in details, but I associate this young man with a certain state.
There is no heart here. Just a heart-shaped emptiness.
Just as I am thinking this, the young man opens his mouth. He is trying to say something.
To make sure I do not miss anything, I stare at his lips and listen carefully.
But he doesn’t say anything. He just opens his mouth in a certain way. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show any emotions. He just changes the shape of his lips. That’s it.
“Do you know me?” I try asking. “Why did you collapse in front of my house? How did you get all those wounds?”
The young man looks at me. He opens his mouth and breathes in as if he is going to say something, but he ends up not saying anything. His mouth is quietly closed, together with a sign that it should not have been opened from the beginning.
Maybe he cannot speak? Aphasia, or probably congenital speech impediment. People can lose their voices for various reasons. Mental reasons, brain conditions. Having their throat burn in a fire, or having their pharynx removed through surgeries. However, I feel that none of those applies to this young man. There is a sign that he has been suppressing the sounds coming right up to his throat.
He can speak but he doesn’t.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. But if I leave you untreated, you will die. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He doesn’t reply. Those eyes are filled with a quiet emptiness. From that, I assume that he is listening. Because if he is deaf, there should be a reasonable amount of confusion and signs of claiming that he cannot hear.
“To treat you, or to kick you out, it is up to me to decide. As long as you don’t speak, you have no rights to decide. Is that okay? If it’s not, say something.”
The young man stares at me. A few seconds, then tens of seconds. Then he gently looks away and closes his eyes. Quietly, emotionlessly.
He can hear, he can speak. The reason he does not talk is because his door is closed. A door built of thick, huge iron that will not open now matter how hard you try.
“I see. Then I will do as I like.”
I say, my words echoing in the emptiness and dropping into the corner of the room, in the middle of nowhere.
And so begins my communal life between me and the young man.
Strictly speaking, it cannot be called a communal life. It cannot even be called nursing. It’s more like an adjustment work, a monitoring work, and a maintenance work. If I dare to put it in a terribly devious way, it is like keeping a fish. After all, the young man just lies in bed and hardly moves all day. Except for eating and going to the toilet, he is not stirring a muscle. He doesn’t react to what I say or do. It saves me some effort, but it does not feel like dealing with a human at all. I do not expect to hear words of gratitude, and it is a lot easier than dealing with rampages or complaints, but it makes me feel restless all the time. I have never experienced something like this in my life.
There is just one time, when I try to change the bandage that covers most of his face, do I get a strong resistance. That is such a quick reaction that I cannot even imagine. He quickly grabs my wrist as I try to change the bandage. His other body parts do not move at all. It is just like his hand only has turned into another creature and attacked me.
In fact, that bandage should be changed. The bandage that covers most of his face has turned gray in places, and the blood stains have darkened into a gloomy color. From a hygienic point of view, it is not in a condition for an injured person to wear. So I try to change it no matter what, but he is still resisting so stubbornly that I eventually give up. I have carefully applied disinfectant on it. He will not die.
Probably, I imagine, he is afraid that I will see his face when I change the bandage that covers it. I can see the stubbornness in the color of those hard and cold eyes. When you are resisted with such strong will, there is no choice but to back up. However, no matter how many times I try to recall after that, I cannot remember ever seeing him before. Not even in a photo. So, his worry is absolutely groundless. I think so and I actually speak it out, but there is no response from the other side.
Just do as I like.
I cook his meals, let him change his clothes, and change the bandages on his body. We do not talk. He is not speaking anyway, and I am not exactly good at conversations. So, his silence itself is a convenient thing. But somehow, I cannot get rid of the feeling that I have been put on a boat without knowing where it is going.
The time the cops appear at my house, is one of those times.
Read Previous Parts Here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
This part is a mix of translations and summaries. Direct translation will be indented and italicized. With this, I have covered the first 43 pages of Side A.
This is from 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. It is a mix of summaries and translations of one part of the novel. So 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. Don’t repost this 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!
There is a knock at Oda’s door. That is the cops from the nearby station who come to ask him a few things because someone reported seeing a bloody man collapsing around there. Dazai signals Oda to keep silent.
Oda starts thinking about what he should do.
If he opens the door and tells the cops he knows nothing, they will just leave and that’s it. But he has another worry.
If Dazai has committed a crime (which he most certainly has), I will later be charged with harboring a criminal. Depending on the outcome, I might even be tried as an accomplice. If that happens, I will enjoy the rest of my life in a state-run accommodation with three meals a day.
The second option is to tell the cops about Dazai. In that case, Dazai will definitely be arrested (because everything about him is suspicious) and Oda will also be at a risk of being suspected as an accomplice. Oda looks at Dazai, who is “smiling a smile that is fifty times darker and denser than that of a kid thinking about what pranks to play.” Seeing that face, Oda comes up with another fear that if he sells Dazai to the cops now, he will face Port Mafia’s revenge later.
Conclusion. Pretending to be out is the only way.
They hide behind the bed and wait for the cops to leave. Suddenly, Dazai taps on Oda’s shoulder, reminding him of the kettle of water he is boiling for his coffee, which is going to blow a very loud whistle once it’s done. They are about eight metres from the kitchen. If Oda just walks there, the floor will creak and the cops will know that there is someone in the room.
I look at Dazai again. After a moment of hesitation, he starts to make a series of gestures. He points at the kitchen, then at me. He holds his palm up in front of him, then stands his other hand on top of it, fingers down. He draws all the fingers on that hand back, leaving only the index and the middle finger, and slowly move the two fingers forward, one after another. Then he puts his index finger on his lip. Then he gives me a thumbs-up, and smiles, and nods.
I nod back.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
“I know right!” Dazai whispers in a soft voice. “You didn’t get it? I said to tiptoe to the kitchen and turn off the fire! I can’t walk well in this condition…”
“Let’s do it.” I nod my head. “There is not much time till the water boils. We need to hurry up.”
“Hey, are you really in a hurry?” Dazai gives me a puzzled look. “I can’t tell because your face doesn’t change at all...”
Oda starts heading towards the kitchen. He uses his ability to figure out where he should put his feet not to make a sound. But then he sees the future when the kettle is whistling and gets so nervous, he decides that he needs a new kind of power, so he starts going on all four and crawls towards the kitchen.
Behind me, Dazai bursts into a small laugh as if he cannot stand my movements anymore. Dazai is right. If someone is able to photograph what I’m doing right now and put it on the public newspaper, I would move to another city on that same day.
Oda finally finds his way to the kettle. He just needs to reach the knob on the gas stove and turn it off. He should have enough time.
However, my expectation is betrayed once again. I have forgotten about the foreign matter that exists in this house. Dazai, of course. He is more unpredictable than any human I have ever met. For example, if two people are on a three-legged race to the goal, Dazai might just turn around and start running in the opposite direction at a random moment. Or, he can desperately climb a cliff to survive, then all of a sudden, say that he wants to fall off it and die. He is a guy that has strayed too far from the reasons of this world. Our dear Trickster.
Dazai suddenly comes up with the idea that if he jumps out of the door with a gun in his hand, there are chances he can be shot dead by the cops. Oda tells him there is no gun in the house, so he decides to get a knife instead. He rushes into the kitchen, even faster than Oda. The cops outside notice the sound and ask them to open the door.
Oda knows that he has to stop Dazai, if he doesn’t want things to get worse.
I have to stop that. I so want to cry and ask someone to help, but there is no one who can do it but me now.
He jumps up and sweeps Dazai’s legs, making him roll on the floor. He grabs Dazai’s neck, turns behind and gets into a chokehold, trying to choke him unconscious. Dazai, as a result, struggles happily while kicking his legs around. He hits the kitchen cabinet once, twice until Oda hears a sound of something coming off. Oda realizes that those desperate kicks are actually on purpose, and it makes the knife Dazai was trying to grab earlier fall off right to where Oda is. Oda can’t move because he is busy holding Dazai down, so he has to use his ability to predict the track of the knife and barely dodges it. The knife stabs vertically into the floor next to him. He tries to calm Dazai down.
"Be still.” I say, “Don’t struggle. It is not scary. It doesn’t hurt.”
I don’t even know what I’m saying myself.
“You liar! Mori-san said the same thing when he gave me shots.”
Dazai says so and keeps going wild. It means there are other people besides me who are having a hard time with Dazai. Who is this Mori-san again?
Dazai keeps kicking the kitchen stand and this time, it’s the kettle above Oda’s head that’s going to fall.
It is a situation that I have never experienced before. A kettle above my head, a knife next to my face, false money somewhere in my room, cops at my door. And I’m strangling a guy I just barely met.
Oda finally manages to choke Dazai unconscious. He goes “fufu ahaha” before he faints. Oda pulls out the knife next to him and throws it toward the falling kettle, successfully catching it by its handle and having it jammed into the wooden part of the kitchen cabinet. By that time, the cops also manage to kick the door open and step into the room.
Just like me, those cops seem to have never witnessed something like that in their lives. Their eyes are wide open, but it is understandable. In the house that they just stormed in, there is a man strangling an injured person on the floor. The boy seems to have passed out in pleasure. The knife stuck on the kitchen cabinet is holding the kettle as if it was an offering.
Silence.
The cops look down at me. It seems that they don’t know what to say at all. I never expected the first arrest in my life would be under this situation. I am not sure if that is the reason, but I end up saying something really stupid.
“Please take off your shoes.”
The two cops look at each other. An older cop and a younger one. They are wearing standard uniforms, with standard hats on.
“Okay.” The older one nods vaguely. “It looks like it’s going to be a weird job today.”
“I feel you.” I say.
Well, there have been a series of incomprehensible situations today, but the last one is the best of all.
The cops take out two gas masks and put them on their faces. Then they throw a gas grenade towards Dazai and Oda. Oda realizes that they are actually not cops. He tries to avoid the gas and kick them to the floor to escape. But he sees the future where they point the guns at Dazai and shoot him if he resists. So, he has no choice but to surrender.
I think, in my fading consciousness.
After all, I really should have kicked Dazai down the stairs when I found him in front of my door that morning. But regret is a part of life. Even if I have one more regret now, it’s not that much of a blow.
Continuation from Part 2. With this part, I have finished the first big part of the novel (about 30 pages). I currently do not have a clear plan of when and what I am going to translate next, so please kindly wait for updates.
This is from 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. It is not a summary, but a full translation of one part of novel. So 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. Don’t repost this 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!
Just like that, many days have passed.
Dazai’s injuries have gone past the most difficult time and are slowly heading to the better. Even though the wounds should still be burning and painful, Dazai is strangely carefree. I don’t know why. He doesn’t seem to have any intention to riot and run away anymore, so I remove his leg restrains. I still keep the front door locked, though.
It is a pleasant autumn day. In the corner of the street, the fallen leaves whisper to each other the memories of when they were once parts of a tree. The scent of tea olive drifts in from nowhere, a scent that turns reminiscences of the past into vague and beautiful memories. I’m sitting by the window, ramblingly thinking about the past. An aimless time while waiting for coffee water to boil. What a luxurious use of time.
“What are you thinking about?”
Dazai asks from the bed.
“It is just this time when I quit my previous job. The tea olive was also blooming back then.”
“Previous job?”
I take a glance at the kettle in the kitchen. There is still some time before the water boils. For a moment, I thought it would be fine to talk until it is done. Then again, I wonder what I was thinking at that moment.
“Nothing big.” I say as I walk toward Dazai. “It was a violent job. But I quit.”
“Violent in what way?”
I do not answer.
The room sinks into silence for a little while. Somewhere I can hear the voice of the trumpet vine families calling to each other.
“Don’t wanna talk about it?” Dazai says as if he has given up, after a while. “Fine then. When the wounds are healed, I will leave. That’s all there is to our relationship anyway.”
I do not respond to those words either. In the kitchen, thin steam is rising from the kettle.
“You are right. When your wounds are healed, you will be gone. And you will end your life as you wish somewhere. Can I make a guess?”
“About what?”
“The reason you want to die.”
“Eh?”
“You want to die, because you are a fool.”
Dazai looks at me with startled eyes.
A silence falls over the room. Dazai turns around and shifts his weight, causing the old floorboard to creak slightly. Somewhere far away, a walking dog is barking at a tree on the street.
“Interesting.”
When Dazai finally says so, his eyes look different from those of any human being. And those of any living things. Those are wounds. A pair of open wounds on his face, from which darkness is peeping out.
“You’re talking big for a mere postman. However, many people have said the same thing. I can’t tell why they said that though. Because everyone is dead.”
Dazai’s face when he says that reminds me of the end of a culvert, or a black wall at the end of the road that leaves you no way to go.
“Is that so? But at least, if one dies without ever visiting that place, they can be called nothing but a fool. I can assure you of that.”
“Eh? What is that place?”
“It’s a quiet place. It’s not like it’s far away. You don’t even need any qualifications to get in. The thing is not everyone can enjoy the true value of that place.”
“It sounds like a riddle.” Dazai lets out a dry laugh. “Is that a strategy to get my attention by some kind of make-believe secret?”
“There is no point in using a strategy when the opponent is you.”
“That is true though.” Dazai says, turning his face to the other direction. “I can’t read you at all.”
Dazai looks at me with his face turned sideways. Then he looks at the front door and chuckles. It’s more like he is laughing at the current situation, rather than at me.
I feel that the gravity in the room has return to normal somehow.
“Alright. I will keep you company with a little silly talk as thanks for the treatment. You said it is foolish to die, right? So here is my question. If dying is foolish, then why do we have to die?”
Dazai is just there, as tranquil as an ancient book waiting for the answers to be unraveled.
“The fatality rate for the act of living is one-hundred percent.” he says, his voice sounding like an unworldly being who has lived for thousands of years. “But if you look at the whole living world, there are living things that do not die, and there are living things that do not have a life span. It means human’s death is nothing but a function of life. It is nothing more than a promise written in the script of life as a finale.”
I give it some thoughts. “So, you mean life is not something to regret?”
“No, it is worse than that. Even though we are all promised death, from the beginning, all human beings were born with a preset desire called “I don’t want to die”. This is also one-hundred percent true. That is why, that desire will never be fulfilled.”
There is that emptiness of reading a script that has been repeated thousands of times. The cliché that we have passed by and groaned over and over again.
“It means that the act of desire is merely a tool, a convenient hypothesis far from the truth, and we are merely followers of a hypothetical thesis that we have to live because our predecessors did. How do you argue against this dark theorem?”
I look at Dazai.
I come up with a lot of counterarguments. However, I know intuitively that Dazai has not revealed even one ten-thousandth of his true intention. Even if I try to argue with him, he has already prepared a counterargument to that counterargument. That is, again, a debate that is already discussed exhaustedly inside him. And the counterargument for that counterargument of a counterargument has already been prepared. Just like an infinite staircase descending to hell, Dazai’s dark reason has no bottom.
I take another glance at the kitchen. The water for my coffee has started steaming.
“Is that why you want to die?” I ask.
Dazai shakes his head to the side. “No. This is just a play on words. There are things that can’t be spoken by words. When it comes to things that can’t be spoken…”
“You have to be silent?” I continue what Dazai is saying. “It’s exactly like that. Only you can understand your world. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are a fool. I can assure you of that.”
Dazai goes ’kay kay as he sighs exaggeratedly and lies down on the bed. Like a teacher who has run out of patience for a child who never ceases to misbehave. “I don’t care to correct that but what is that place you talked about just now?”
“If you go, you will know.” I say and look out of the window. The street is bright and quiet.
“Why don’t you try and explain to it me right here right now?”
“I will pass. In this situation, no, in most situations, words are not to be trusted”.
“Hmph, so you do say such things. Even though you like novels?” Dazai says as he takes a look at my bookshelf.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m troubled.” I answer honestly.
Dazai looks at me for a while, and suddenly he laughs, somewhat more natural than ever before. “Interesting.” Dazai says. “You are humble. I don’t hate that.”
In the kitchen, the steam from the kettle is drawing a symbol in the air.
“I don’t hate spending time in this house either, not as much as I thought.”
At that moment, there is a knock on the front door.
That Zebra reminds me of the donkey that was painted zebra in Cairo, Egypt. That took quite a bit of redrawing. I’ll update the blog in a bit. I think Ce-la and I took exception to this chapter (we usually leave Slug with the Wan translations) because it’s really sweet, and we couldn’t leave out Mushi’s first appearance!
For anyone who’s an anime-only, Mushi is a manga-exclusive character.
★Text-only translations for this chapter can be viewed here!★
Hey, Ikkaku? I don’t think that’s how brains work :\
Also quick announcement: there will NOT be a Nanbaka upload next week on Sunday, as I will be busy with packing and moving back to the States. I’ll see if I can upload another chapter at a different time either this or next week, but for now do not expect an upload at the usual time this Sunday. Thanks for ur understanding, and stay safe out there y’all ‘v’)b
★Disclaimer★
I do translations purely as a hobby for practice and fun, so please understand if they’re imperfect or contain mistakes. Furthermore, in compliance with the author’s request I will be doing text translations ONLY, no exceptions. Asks, messages, tags or comments calling for translated comic uploads will be deleted or ignored. If you’re confused on how to use comico, check out this guide here.
disclaimer: all of our posts are only intended to share our interpretations of the work. they are incomplete and for private purposes. they are not official translations. to get the complete content in the official English volumes please purchase Yen Press’s published volumes on Amazon by Kafka Asagiri and Harukawa Sango.
The boy was in a factory.
It’s a construction factory for auto parts. High ceilings, and smells of machinery oil. The sound of welders somewhere, and the sounds of following sparks. But the facility is too large, to even determine the location of the sound.
From the conveyor belt, comes forth many weld-burnt metal parts.
Adam calls himself “this machine”. In Japanese this is used like a pronoun. But it only works because Japanese doesn’t require a main subject for every sentence- the actions/thoughts/descriptions are written just by themselves. Naturally, the pronoun for “this machine” would be “it”, but using these two nouns every time Adam does something, is just confusing and really disrupts the flow. So I used “I” as a form of practical self-identity (which Adam does have) whenever “this machine” is not explicitly used in the sentence. So when “this machine” is used, please read it is equivalent to “I”.
disclaimer: all of our posts are only intended to share our interpretations of the work. they are incomplete and for private purposes. they are not official translations. to get the complete content in the official English volumes please purchase Yen Press’s published volumes on Amazon by Kafka Asagiri and Harukawa Sango.
***
This machine is Adam Frankenstein.
I am an equipment of the EUROPOLE authorities, a calculator that can sing and dance. It’s true. There’s nothing I can’t do.
…That day had very good weather.
Daylight pierces the blue sky, and rains down onto the ground. The buildings lined out by the streetways reflect the light, shining like showcases of a jewelry store. Inorganic yet abiding by physical law, a spectre of light like a program. It felt like a beauty situated not for humans, but for calculators, like this machine.
reki and langa's favorite duet to dance in just dance is can't take my eyes off of you
oka is reki's uncle (mom's brother)
reki tries to give shadow the intimidating talk when he starts dating oka but he fails really hard and ends up laughing his ass off while shadow is just there Confused
cherry named carla after his niece who he loves a lot (i can elaborate on this further)
reki is a harry styles bisexual
reki listened to sweater weather before he knew that it was kind of a bisexual song and one day he was just listening to it with earbuds on and one of his classmates said "hey are you listening to sweater weather?" and he's like "yeah i love this song!" and they're like "oh my god same! are you also... you know?" and he's like "what" and they're like "what" and they explain to him and he's like "oh. wait-" and he just kinda reevaluates his whole life and then a week or so later he comes up to this classmate and says really proudly "i DO listen to sweater weather!" and they immediately understand and they hug bc yay two bisexuals
shadow has a really bad amount of internalized homophobia and it's a huge fucking problem and it never really leaves
reki introduces miya to his sister bc they're around the same age and they become really good friends (their main hobby is gagging at reki and langa and making fun of reki)
joe doesn't actually believe in astrology but he pretends he does just to piss off cherry, who thinks astrology is the dumbest shit ever
everyone thinks shadow's music taste is rock/metal music because of his aesthetic but one day miya used his phone for spotify and found out that he listens to a bunch of dancey songs and shit like that from the 90's (like britney spears,,, yknow)
half italian joe half italian joe hALF ITALIAN JOE GODDAMNIT
adding to ^ that, joe listens to a bunch of old italian songs and often plays them in the restaurant (HELP NO MATCHABLOSSOM BRAIN WENT "lol them slow dancing to old italian songs lol think about it")
joe unironically listens to macarena and has to do the dance every time. it's his legal obligation. he has to do it every time he hears it. no matter where he is.
cherry knows this and has carla play the macarena during one of their beefs and joe is like "FUCK YOU" but does it anyways
they both lost in the end because cherry lost his shit laughing (they both fell at the same time so it was considered a tie)
miya wouldn't stop giving them shit about it for weeks because they both literally looked like complete wrecks (cherry almost broke his leg and joe did, in fact, dislocate his elbow), like he would look at them and burst out laughing
one time miya laughed so hard at them that he fell from his chair face first and broke his nose which is the only reason he stopped laughing (it hurt to laugh, literally)
reki is so used to kissing his sisters' minor injuries when they like fall or scrape their knees that it's become a habit and while this does open up renga opportunities please let me enlighten you with the idea of Big Bro Reki treating one of miya's scrapes (either a tumble or he tripped or smth idk man bear with me) and accidentally smooching his arm or smth out of habit and miya kinda cries a little
also, this angsty shit is brought to you by my gf who likes to make me SUFFER: after reki and langa's fight, one of his younger sisters sees that reki is really upset and crying, so she goes up to him and kisses his chest to make him feel better
ITALIAN JOE TIME ok so joe's mom is italian and when she met his father she didn't really know much japanese and her pronunciation was so weird so instead of calling his father by full name she called him "joe" for short (and it was easier for her to pronounce) and when he was born it kind of became a little nickname his mom gave him
reki listens to paramore NO i am not taking criticism on this
when they were like kids cherry and joe promised to each other that at their weddings, they would be each other's best man; skip to when they got engaged, joe is like "oh no,,, oh my god we didn't think about this did we" and cherry thinks that he wants to call off the engagement and kinda panics for a few seconds but then joe said "who will be our best men??" and cherry is like "OH THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN-" and then kinda smacks him for scaring him but also is really mushy inside that joe remembered
whenever joe speaks to cherry in italian (complimenting him and being romantic and all that) cherry immediately assumes that joe is insulting him and gets mad (when really he's telling him his eyes are beautiful)
whoops accidentally made this one about the Matchablossom Agenda oh well promise there'll be more tadashi and adam content in the next one
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