Chapter 2

CHAPTER I 8th It rained this morning. A quiet shower, but frigid like the depths of winter. I yearn to live for my ideals. I strive for my ideals. I move forward without fear, without fatigue, without hesitation. Neither dreams nor honor will be pursued—for how euphoric it can be to solely devote oneself to quotidian tasks. The Armed Detective Agency’s office sits at the top of a slope near Yokohama’s port. It’s a reddish-brown brick building with years of wear and tear, and its rain gutters and lampposts are sheathed in rust from the rough sea breeze. But despite its appearance, it’s so sturdily built that even machine-gun artillery fire from the outside wouldn’t cause any damage to the interior. That may sound oddly specific, but it’s happened to us. In any event, our detective agency is situated on the fourth floor. The other floors are occupied by proper tenants. There’s a café on the first floor and a law firm on the second. The third is vacant, and the fifth is used for miscellaneous storage. The café takes good care of me right before payday comes, and I’m at the law firm asking for help every time there’s some legal trouble at work. I take the building’s elevator to the fourth floor, get off, and stand before the office. On the door is a plate with the words ARMED DETECTIVE AGENCY written in simple, fine brushstrokes. I check my watch. I still have forty seconds before work starts at eight o’clock. Looks like I got here a little early. Punctuality is my philosophy. Flipping through my notebook as I wait, I double-check today’s schedule. I already checked once during breakfast, once after leaving the dormitory, and once while waiting for the light to change, but I’ve never heard of anyone dying from excessive confirmation of their schedule. I read my notebook, ruminating on my work plans, then glance at my watch one more time as I adjust my shirt collar. …Perfect. “Good morning.” I open the door. “Oh, Kunikida! Good morning! Take a look at this! It’s incredible!” I’m suddenly greeted by a grinning Dazai on the threshold. “At last, I’ve made it! Ah, and what a sweet world it is! This is Yomotsu Hirasaka, the gateway to the afterlife! Look, it’s just as I imagined! The blue smoke covering the surface, the moonlight peeking in through the window, the pink elephant dancing in the westerly skies…!” He dances in front of the office door with wild gesticulations. What a pain in the ass. “Heh-heh-heh-heh! I just knew that Complete Suicide book would be a masterpiece! And to think, all it took to achieve such a simple yet pleasurable suicide was to ingest a mushroom growing along the mountain path! How wonderful! Ah-ha-ha!” Dazai’s eyes are slightly twitching and unfocused. “K-Kunikida, please do something!” a staff member begs, teary-eyed. I guess it’s safe to assume that Dazai’s been like this all morning. I glance at his desk and see the blasphemous book he bought the other day, The Complete Suicide, opened to a page titled “Death by Poisoning: Mushrooms.” Next to the book lies a plate with a half-eaten mushroom on it. However, upon further inspection, it appears to be a slightly different color from the one in the book. “Come, Kunikida! Join me in the underworld! See, here the alcohol flows freely, and you can help yourself to as much food as you’d like! You can sniff beautiful women until you’re blue in the face!” “Please help, Kunikida; we’ve tried everything we could…” Quite simply, the mushroom he ingested wasn’t the fatal kind but rather the hallucinogenic type. However, that doesn’t matter to me. I always do things in the same order each and every morning. If I didn’t follow my morning schedule as planned, would I still be able to finish my day’s work on time? The answer is no. I head to my desk, ignoring my crying coworker and that prancing imbecile. I set down my bag just as I always do. I boot up my computer and, as per usual, open the window. “Whoa! There’s a giant sea anemone outside the window, Kunikida! A banana… It’s eating a banana! And it’s even removing the white stringy bits!” I pour coffee into my mug just as I always do. Then I dispose of any documents from yesterday’s work that are no longer needed. “Oh, I’ve got it. I need to take off my clothes. I need to get naked to get higher ratings! It’s simple, really! Let us undress! After that, we can all put on full-body tights, go to the bank, and dance the hopak!” I check the telegraph rack just like always, then take a sip of my coffee. “I can hear voices… Ohhh…! They’re in— They’re in my head! …The tiny man is whispering to me to go to Kyoto! That’s where they have the best miso tofu—” I land a roundhouse kick to the back of Dazai’s head, knocking him against the wall and rendering him unconscious. It was only four days ago when this failure of a human being became my colleague. “A new employee?” That day, I had been filing some paperwork when the president called me into his office. He told me they had hired a new investigator, so he wanted me to look after him. It was unexpected. Admittedly, the Armed Detective Agency profits from violence and deals with life-threatening work, but I’ve never heard anything about being short on staff. I’m even able to hold a second job working as an algebra instructor at Shin-Tsuruya Institute twice a week. Granted, there has been an increase in cases that require armed personnel, such as the “Azure Banner Terrorist,” the “Serial Disappearances of Yokohama Visitors,” and our feud with the underground organization known as the Port Mafia. Honestly, we’ve been getting so many dangerous job offers of late that even our top detective, Ranpo, would have a hard time covering them all on his own. Perhaps the president hired a new employee in anticipation of that. “Let me introduce you. Come in.” The president faces the door after a few moments of contemplation and calls out to someone. “Good afternoon.” A man smiles from ear to ear as he enters the room. He’s wearing a sand-colored coat and an open-collared shirt. He’s tall and thin with disheveled black hair, and while his unkempt appearance leaves much to be desired, he has somewhat handsome features. I am slightly curious about the white bandages wrapped around his neck and wrists, though. “I’m Osamu Dazai, twenty years old. Nice to meet you.” Twenty, huh? He’s the same age as me. “I’m Kunikida. If there’s anything you don’t understand, I’m here to help.” “Oh, so you’re a detective at the legendary Armed Detective Agency! It’s an honor to meet you!” He forcefully grabs my hand and shakes it in an exaggerated manner. In that moment, I suddenly sense a cold, piercing light in his eyes, as if he were calmly evaluating his senior—no, as if he were staring into my very soul through the eyes of a heavenly, enlightened sage. However, it is only for a fleeting moment before his vacant expression returns. Was I seeing things? Could my mind have been playing tricks on me? I pull myself together. “So, Dazai, what brings you to our detective agency? This kind of place won’t take in just anyone who asks.” “Yes, about that. I was at this pub—bored, unemployed—drunkenly complaining to myself when I happened to hit it off with some old guy sitting next to me. He said he’d give me a job if I beat him in a drinking contest. And, well, I jokingly went along with it but ended up winning.” Who is this “old guy”? “It was Chief Taneda of the Special Division for Unusual Powers. He came by yesterday and gave me the news,” the president says with a straight face. I find myself speechless when I hear him mention Chief Taneda’s name so casually. Chief Taneda is the top brass in the Home Affairs Ministry’s Special Division for Unusual Powers, a secret military agency unknown to the general public. His job is to control and regulate information on skill users. I’ve even heard he provided support to our president in establishing the Armed Detective Agency. That’s why not even the president himself can refuse such a referral. “I really hope we can get along, Kunikida.” Our new hire gives me a toothy smile, perhaps oblivious of my internal apprehension. However, being personally recommended by a prominent figure doesn’t make you any less of a nuisance when you’re tripping on mushrooms this early in the morning. Today marks three days since I was paired with Dazai. I’m mentally exhausted, almost no work is getting done, and we’re receiving more complaints by the day. If I take my eyes off him for even a second, he’ll either leap into a river and claim he was trying to drown himself; get blackout drunk at a pub after what he calls a “pick-me-up”; or chat up some pretty lady, saying he had a divine revelation. He’s a twenty-year-old self-centered man-child who throws a wrench in my schedule every chance he gets. Having said that, work is work, and coworkers are coworkers. Admitting defeat after only three days would damage not only the president’s trust in me but my dignity as a detective as well.