#3 My name is Sakunosuke Oda. I’m a detective with the Armed Detective Agency. Some say the quickest way to get to know someone is to find out what they do for work. They may have a point, but that rule doesn’t apply to me. Why? Because I don’t have the mentality or the talent to be a detective. I’m just an ordinary, worn-out guy. Nothing more than a two-bit agent. No different from a cigarette butt on the ground. Two years ago, I solved the “Azure Apostle” case and joined the detective agency. I can still remember those days like it was yesterday. One moment, everything was leaning to the right, then the next, everything was leaning to the left. The case was rocky, so I grabbed onto the closest thing I could, and it took everything I had just to hold on and wait it out. It was mere coincidence that I was able to solve the case. Beginner’s luck. Nevertheless, I managed to solve it, which meant I passed the test. Ever since then, I’ve been solving whatever cases the agency throws at me to make a living. I take care of orphans, drink coffee, and on my days off, I do a little gambling before writing novels in the kitchen at night. That’s my life. It’s a humble, cozy life. Nothing to brag about, but I like it. Today’s work at the agency was a little peculiar, though. I was walking down the shopping arcade to meet someone. It was almost nightfall. Everyone was quietly coming and going like creatures of the deep sea as the orange evening sun sank into the horizon. There was a stain at the end of the pavement where someone threw up last night. A young man’s silver bicycle passed by me, its wheels lit up like some sort of spacecraft. The townscape was the color of dingy coffee jelly. I just couldn’t bring myself to hate this place. My job today had to do with the new recruit Akutagawa. He’d broken into the Port Mafia’s headquarters, an underground organization that had spread its roots deep within this city. Saying he had a few screws loose would be putting it lightly. He might as well have smashed his bones with a hammer and fed them to the wolves. That would’ve made more sense than infiltrating the Mafia’s headquarters. Incidentally, I was the one who’d invited him to join the detective agency. Once again, I’d shot myself in the foot. As always. At this point, it had become a bad habit I just couldn’t shake, so all I could do was accept it. What I needed to do now, however, was worry about the new recruit, since he was a hundred times more messed up in the head than me. The new guy—Akutagawa—was a powerful skill user who had been through hell and back many times. If anyone was capable of penetrating Port Mafia’s defenses and reuniting with their sister, it was Akutagawa. But that’s the end of the line for him. Akutagawa would never be able to get his old life back. Port Mafia was like the night breeze that blew through the darkest areas of this city. Not even a single back alley or gutter was out of their reach. Even if Akutagawa managed to get his sister back and escape their headquarters, Port Mafia would find them, hang them upside down, and parade them through the streets. They would slit the siblings’ throats, put them on hooks, and show everyone what happens to those who oppose the Mafia. That was why the president gave me orders to rescue them—to make sure Akutagawa saved his sister’s life and they returned to the agency safely. My job was to help them after they escaped. There was no way the Mafia would let either Akutagawa or his sister go. It’d make them look bad. If they let an intruder like Akutagawa go free, they’d just seem weak to anyone outside the Mafia, and if they let his sister leave, they’d appear weak to those inside the organization. Money or privileges weren’t enough to wipe the slate clean. What could we do, then? After much consideration, I came to a single conclusion: Threaten them. That was the only way. Tell the Mafia that I was going to give the government information on them that would sink them for good. Then, in return for this information, they would promise to leave Akutagawa alone. To do this, however, I needed help from someone on the inside. It couldn’t be just any collaborator, though. It had to be someone who played a pivotal role in the Mafia. Ideally, someone who worked close to the heart of their money. After all, money was like blood to the organization, and a living creature can’t survive if you pump poison into its bloodstream. I investigated and tracked criminals working underground until I found “the one”: a Mafia accountant who handled their finances. He was an old man who’d worked for years as the organization’s safe keeper by laundering their money. His hobbies included bonsai and chess. He’d asked to meet at an old bar in a back alley. It was nightfall, and the bar still wasn’t open yet, but the wooden door was ajar—maybe he’d pulled some strings for us. I walked through the doorway and began descending the staircase. The dark, dry staircase to the basement made me feel as if I were going back in time. I could faintly hear jazz music coming from the bar. The inside was as cramped as a shoebox and quiet. A counter, barstools, various brands of bottled liquor lined up against the wall—but no bartender. The man I was planning to meet was already sitting in the back. He stared despondently at his liquor-filled glass while running his finger around the rim. I blinked. “…Who are you?” It wasn’t the old man who was sitting there. The person raised his head when he heard my voice and looked up at me through his long eyelashes. His lips curled into a smile so subtle I thought I was maybe imagining things. “Hey, Odasaku. Long time no see,” said the young man wearing a black overcoat. “Still too early to have a drink?” I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. It chased me from the darkness. I desperately tried to run away. I didn’t even care if my legs snapped off or my lungs burst. I ran as fast as I could. I tried to get away, but there was no escape—because the monster was inside my head. “Do notno matter what, Atsushi.” A voice from my past echoed in my mind. Whose voice was it? It was Dazai’s. It turned into a black chain and coiled around my body. It was a cursed voice. “Do notno matter what, Atsushi.” I couldn’t escape no matter how fast I ran. I know it’ll come after me no matter where I go. I wanted to scream, but I had no throat. I wanted to cry, but I had no eyes. My entire body trembled so violently that it felt like it was going to shatter into a million pieces. I continued to run away from myself. But you can’t run away from yourself. Nobody can. Atsushi sped through the Mafia headquarters with his head bent forward, almost exactly how a beast would run. He kicked off the walls while he turned the corners and leaped up the staircase, ascending the building at any angle he could. All he could think about was catching up with Akutagawa—saving Kyouka, in other words. Everything else had vanished from his mind. He saw armed Mafia soldiers at the end of the passageway. There were around eight of them, and they were blocking Atsushi’s path. “Move.” Like a tornado or cannonball, Atsushi thrust himself through the group with a growl. The impact slammed the soldiers against the wall, knocking most of them out before they even really knew what hit them. One of the soldiers noticed Atsushi coming and reflexively raised his gun, but the moment Atsushi passed by him, his pistol had already been sliced into pieces. By the time the soldier realized this, blood had already begun spraying out of his arm and body as well. There were no conscious soldiers left after the calamity passed. Atsushi was hardly even aware of what he had just done. He simply kept moving forward to escape the fear. “Do notno matter what, Atsushi.” Akutagawa’s back finally came into view. Atsushi howled, then sped up. Akutagawa turned around at the sound of the ominous voice. He tried to spread his overcoat like a curtain to create a wall of defense, but Atsushi was quicker. He lunged at Akutagawa’s chest, knocking his overcoat out of the way before he had a chance to attack. “Do not go tono matter what, Atsushi.” Atsushi howled. “Awooooooooo!!” “What the—?!” Atsushi’s fist slammed into his stunned opponent’s face, bending Akutagawa’s neck back as far as it would go. Akutagawa was sent flying as if he had just been hit by a truck; then he lost consciousness the moment he crashed into the wall before dropping face forward toward the ground like a marionette that had its strings cut. But he never hit the ground—Atsushi rushed forward and grabbed Akutagawa’s shoulders, stopping him midair. The beast roared. He pinned Akutagawa’s shoulder against the wall and punched his torso relentlessly. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. It was like a machine gun rhythmically unloading bullet after bullet, shattering Akutagawa’s bones and forming cracks in the wall behind him. His body swung like a pendulum. Atsushi’s bare hands could slice the barrel of a gun in two. A single punch would be fatal to any ordinary person, and Akutagawa was being barraged with dozens. No matter how many times he hit him, Atsushi didn’t stop. His eyes, opened wide, were wavering with overpowering terror. His hands trembled. His teeth chattered. A cold sweat poured down his body. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. “Do not go tono matter what, Atsushi.” Atsushi didn’t stop attacking. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. He was a prisoner of fear. His body wouldn’t listen to him anymore. His fractured soul was screaming. He couldn’t stop; it continued to splinter…ever since that day one year ago. “…It out.” Atsushi’s fist stopped. Akutagawa’s lips moved to form words: “I’ve…figured…it out—What you feel…isn’t fear.” A terrifying chill ran down Atsushi’s spine, and he ceased breathing. “That emotion…is guilt.” All Atsushi could see was a white light as the unbearable emotion consumed every one of his brain cells. “Ah…” He could hear a voice. The voice of his master: “I’m giving you orders as your boss.” It was a voice of the past. A black chain that bound him. “Do not go to the orphanage no matter what, Atsushi… Got it?” ……………………………………………… I didn’t follow orders that day. The Mafia’s orders. Dazai’s orders. Orders that I had to obey at all costs. I attacked the orphanage. I was already a member of the Mafia’s commando unit one year ago. I was the leader with a few men of my own, and I had power—I had information. I could make investigations into violent incidents go away just by leaking information to a collaborator in the city police. But I only did it once…to erase my past. Inside every person’s mind is a small child. It’s you. It’s your childhood self, sobbing in the darkness—a younger version of yourself whom nobody can ever understand, whom nobody will ever extend a helping hand to. People will do anything to calm that child or to get them to stop crying…no matter how inhumane it may be. For me, that was burning the prison of my past to ashes and killing the demon within. It was ridiculously simple, to tell the truth. I sealed off the premises with my men, then began the attack. After cutting the telephone line and destroying all their parked vehicles, I turned into the tiger and rushed into the dormitory. I was afraid, but it wasn’t the fear of committing a sin. It was the fear that I might lose to the orphanage director. I was afraid that he could just look at me, and blood would burst out of my body as I dropped to the ground. I needed years to overcome that fear. I came up with plan after plan, but I would get cold feet every time. Today, however, I would overcome the fear. I would win. There were a few reasons why I was able summon the courage. One was something that would seem to be of little significance to others, but that day was my birthday. That’s why I wanted to make the day I was born, in the truest sense, the birth of something new. The orphanage, which I hadn’t seen for three years, looked so tiny and miserable. The plaster walls were cracked, the pathways were just dirt that hadn’t been paved, and the well for drinking water had dried up. It was like looking at weather-beaten bones, which had been slowly wasting away. Nevertheless, every step I took removed a scab from my memories, and I inevitably bled. The alley where I was punched until my teeth chipped and broke, the disciplinary room with fingernails still stuck in the wall where I used to scratch until they broke off, the pantry I snuck into out of hunger but was so afraid of being punished that I couldn’t leave—I had to burn it all, or the child in my memories would never stop crying. It was simple. Something anyone could understand. Today was my birthday. Today was the day I was going to reduce my prison to ashes and be born again. I ran through the orphanage, which I faithfully remembered to the finest detail, until I arrived at the demon lord’s castle—the director’s office. I kicked the door open, and immediately, my heart froze. The director was staring right at me from the back of the room with his arms crossed. “You’re late, Number Seventy-Eight,” he snapped. It was an ambush. There was neither fear nor surprise on his face. All there was, was his usual frigid gaze. They were the eyes of a man who looked down on the orphans and ruled over them. “D-don’t call me that,” I managed to stammer with as much force as I could. But he simply looked at me as if he could see right through me. “It appears you made it to your graduation just in time,” noted the director. “‘Graduation’?” The door suddenly slammed shut behind me. The sturdy iron door automatically closed, followed by the sound of it locking. I didn’t know at the time, but the director’s office could automatically close and lock. The only reason I was able to walk inside was because he had unlocked the door in advance for me. An alarm went off. It was the bell for cleanup time after lunch. My body suddenly wanted to start cleaning, and I had to make a mental effort to stop myself. “Does it bring back memories?” asked the director as he looked down at me. “It’s the sound of order. It’s the sound that let you all know what governed you.” “You’re right.” I glared at the director. “There aren’t any clocks here, so this alarm was the only way we knew when to do what. This sound held us hostage because there was only one person in the orphanage who had a clock: you.” I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was an antique amber pendulum clock. Even now, the second hand marked the passage of time like a god. “‘Owning a clock is proof of a strong, independent will,’” I recited, since I had heard him say it hundreds of times. “Therefore…” “‘Therefore, those of you who were born to be ruled and disciplined have no need for a clock.’” I finished reciting one of his favorite stock phrases. “So you made it a rule that we couldn’t have clocks. One of the older kids tried to buy one once after saving up his money, but he was kicked out of the orphanage…after he was beaten nearly to death.” “Yes. But you never did something so foolish, Number Seventy-Eight. You were obedient. Submissive,” he added before picking up a white wooden box on his desk. I’d never seen it before. It was a plain box slightly larger than the palm of his hand. “What’s in that box?” My voice was trembling. “Isn’t it obvious?” The director spoke in a flat voice. “It’s something you need to graduate from here.” An ambush. A box. I had a bad feeling in my gut that had swelled all the way up to my throat. “‘Graduate’? What are you talking about? What’s in that box?! What are you scheming?!” The director slowly approached me with the box still in hand. Cold sweat began to pour down my entire body. There was probably a weapon in the box, yet my body wouldn’t move. I repeatedly tried to convince myself to calm down. I would easily win in hand-to-hand combat. Even if there was a gun in that wooden box, a small pistol couldn’t kill me. However, the director knew I was coming, and he surely knew about the tiger within me as well. Which meant… A bomb? If there was an explosion in a sealed-off room like this, the reflection of the blast waves would increase the lethality severalfold. A high explosive would probably blow my head off before I could heal myself with the regeneration capability of the tiger. I focused my tiger’s hearing, then froze—because I could hear what was inside the wooden box. It was the passage of time. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. This isn’t good. “Do you remember what I taught you?” The director slowly approached me. “Those who fail to protect others do not deserve to live.” “Stop,” I begged, my voice trembling. “Stay back.” The director stood right in front of me and spread his arms. A colossal ruler. My feet instinctively took a step back. It was fate. I was helpless before him. No. No. No. No. Fight it. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight it, Atsushi. Or you’ll die! The tips of my fingers and toes trembled. My racing heart hammered against my chest. This was fear—the absolute ruler etched into my soul. “Today marks the last day of my teachings to you.” “Stop…!” Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. Fight it! Every cell in my body screamed. “Ahhhhhh!” I heard the sound of something moist. My arm had pierced the director’s chest, and my fingers were sticking out of his back. “…” He whispered something. I heard what he said, but I couldn’t process it. Red alarm bells rang in my mind as it continued screaming the words Fight it. “Ahhhhhhhhh!” I shoved the director and straddled his body as he lay on the ground. I punched him. Over and over again. Copious amounts of blood splattered onto the floor. Even though I could feel his skull crack and break, I didn’t stop punching. Only when there was nothing left to punch and my fist slammed into the hard floor did I stop. Just then, I caught a glimpse of the wooden box out of the corner of my eye. The lid had fallen off and what was inside had rolled out. I looked at it. It was a watch. Next to the watch was a sheet of paper with the following written on it: Happy birthday What? What is this? Why is this written here? Why is there a watch inside the box? “Owning a clock is proof of a strong, independent will.” It was a brand-new watch. It must have been hard for a run-down orphanage like this to afford such a high-end piece. “It’s something you need to graduate from here.” That was when I finally managed to process the director’s final words to me: “Yes… Just like that.” The director had held his arms out wide before me…like a father embracing his child. The truth was clear. But no matter how quickly the truth pierced my heart, my brain simply wasn’t trying to understand. The director was dead on the floor. Never would he say another word. That was the moment it suddenly hit me. No matter how much stronger I got or how much I grew, no matter how proud I was of myself, he would never be able to tell me “good job” or say “I’m impressed” ever again. There was a possibility he would’ve said that. One day. If he were alive. But he didn’t say anything. I would never be able to hear the one thing I wanted the most in this world. Because I’d killed him. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Looking back, there were a few things that didn’t add up. I had no idea I was a man-eating tiger. The orphanage director and the others kept it a secret from me. There was a fiendish white tiger who ravaged the orphanage and hurt people. And this tiger hadn’t appeared only a few times, so at the very least, my teachers at the orphanage surely knew that it was me. And yet, nobody ever told me. It wasn’t until much later that I found out why. There was a researcher who came to the orphanage to secretly investigate the tiger, but it killed him. He had long hair the color of white mist and eyes as red as apples. Had his death gone public, the military police would’ve intervened and killed the dangerous tiger—me. But the director covered up the accident. He threw the researcher’s body into a river and burned his belongings. He then got the teachers together so they could coordinate their story: “No researcher ever came here.” Then, after checking if I had any memory of what happened when I was a tiger, the director locked me in a basement cell. He continued handling the aftermath every time the tiger went berserk going forward. He locked me in the basement in seclusion so there wouldn’t be any victims—so I wouldn’t hurt anyone. That was why I always believed that the tiger was a savage beast that came from somewhere far, far away. The director knew me better than anyone else. He even understood that I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I knew that I was the tiger. And he knew that he had to continue protecting me, keeping me from going into the outside world, until I was old enough to be able to control the tiger and accept what I am. “That emotion…is guilt,” wheezed Akutagawa as his shoulder was pinned against the wall. “Ah…” Atsushi’s eyes lost their focus. “Ah… Ahhh… Ahhhhhh… Ahhhhhhhhh…!” He screamed and threw Akutagawa into the air. Akutagawa’s body bent into unnatural positions until it hit the ground; then it bounced once more before rolling by a window near the corner of the building. Atsushi landed on his body as he lay faceup. He straddled Akutagawa tightly with his legs and punched him over and over with both hands like a meteor shower. The floor under Akutagawa slowly cratered as concrete scattered in every direction. Akutagawa was no longer even attempting to use his overcoat for defense. It was absolute destruction, far more than any human could take—like a planet being engulfed by countless meteorites. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!” bawled Atsushi as he punched Akutagawa. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know…any other way…!” “A common excuse used by weaklings,” Akutagawa suddenly mumbled. There was a dull sound. Atsushi’s arm was severed at the elbow, leaving a trail of blood as it rolled across the floor. “…?” Fabric blades wriggled around Akutagawa’s body as if they had sprung back to life before immediately piercing Atsushi’s shoulders, stomach, throat, and thighs like a spear, pinning him against the wall. “Gwah…!” Akutagawa slowly stood up like a ghost. Blood was dripping down every part of his body, but he walked with purpose. “How…?” muttered Atsushi while gurgling blood. “After…all…that…” “I slit open my own skin before you punched me. I then created a tear in space itself to prevent your attacks from reaching my muscle and bone,” revealed Akutagawa while rubbing his skin. “This was my trump card. My final line of defense. I certainly wasn’t expecting to use it so soon, though.” The blades piercing Atsushi’s body began to twist and expand, causing him to scream as the fabric raked his flesh. “A skill user fueled by fear and atonement…,” began Akutagawa as he approached Atsushi. “It’s not difficult to imagine your fear. Nothing in this world is worse than regret. Living one’s life always wondering ‘If only I had done that instead’ is pure hell.” Atsushi’s face trembled with fear. Akutagawa continued approaching him with a razor-sharp glare. “However, at this moment, all you are to me is a barrier between me and my sister. I never wish to regret again. That is why I must cut you down and continue forward.” Akutagawa’s blade turned into a guillotine and rose into the air right before Atsushi’s eyes. It was the Mafia headquarters’ central control monitoring room on the thirty-fifth floor. Gin opened the door to the dimly lit space and rushed inside, trying to catch her breath. With heavy feet, she tottered over to the wall near the monitoring control board and placed her hand on it. Immediately, her knees gave out, and she feebly dropped to the floor into a sitting position. “Ryuunosuke…” She leaned her head against the wall while clutching her knees as if she was stranded all alone on a snowy mountain. The room was empty. Dim. Only the myriad monitors displaying every room in the building illuminated the space, but there was no warmth in their light. Akutagawa and Atsushi could be seen on one of the monitors. Akutagawa, who had Atsushi pinned down with his skill, was about to take his life. “Ryuunosuke… That’s enough,” she insisted, her voice hoarse. “You’ll never be able to make it out of here alive if you kill any more…” Gin was trembling but not because she was cold. She staggered to her feet and approached the control board. “I don’t care what kind of person you are.” She weakly turned the control key and pressed the numbered switch. “All I want is for you to live.” She picked up the intercom on the desk and placed it to her ear. “Ryuunosuke, stop,” Gin said into the intercom. “Go home.” “Ryuunosuke, stop.” Gin’s voice echoed throughout the hall that Akutagawa and Atsushi were in. “Go home.” “Gin.” Akutagawa looked around to see where her voice was coming from. “Gin, where are you?” “Just forget about me and go home.” Gin sounded like she was trying to hold back her emotions. “Don’t you understand? I could’ve gone to see you anytime if I wanted. I wasn’t kidnapped four years ago. I decided on my own to accept the boss’s—that lonely man’s—invitation. The reason why I never went to see you was because you’re not capable of having loved ones in your life.” “What?” Flustered, Akutagawa looked up in the direction Gin’s voice was coming from. “What is that supposed to mean?” “The way you destroy things is different from how the Mafia does it. The Mafia’s destruction has rationality and purpose, but you don’t. Even those you love get dragged into your violence as you destroy everything around you. Even yourself. Because…” Gin paused. Her voice was silent as if she were breathing in the courage she needed; then she confessed, “Because you were born to do evil.” Akutagawa’s arms dropped to his sides lifelessly. His face was like that of a lost child who got separated from his parents. “Me? Evil? Is that why you won’t come back with me?” asked Akutagawa in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense, Gin. Nothing does. What are you saying? I don’t understand.” There was no reply. “Gin, answer me! What do I lack? What can I do to get you back?” And no reply would ever come. The intercom system had already been shut off. “Gin, answer me! I beg of you! Gin…!” The wall suddenly shattered into pieces, scattering bits of concrete and dust into the air. But before Akutagawa could even look back, Rashomon’s fabric was torn off. A beast roared. It wasn’t Atsushi, though. It wasn’t even human. “What?!” Taken aback, Akutagawa’s eyes opened wide. “A white tiger?!” A beast the size of a small car charged into him until they crashed into a window together, shattering the glass and breaking right through it. All that awaited them now…was an empty sky. Akutagawa and the white tiger fell out the window of the Mafia headquarters. “Long time no see?” I repeated to the man as I approached him. “Have we met?” The young man, who was waiting for me at the bar, wore a mellow smile that seemed so natural on him. “No. This is the first time,” he replied while clinking the ice in his glass. “First time I’ve ever been to this bar, first time I ever drank here, and the first time you and I have ever met here, Odasaku.” I looked around the bar once more. The walls stained with cigarette smoke, the pillars that had turned almost completely black with age, the liquor cabinet and lights: Nothing could escape the long, long passage of time. It was a small bar. Cramped. A customer could barely walk through the place without bumping into someone else. Every piece that contributed to the bar’s ambience was quiet and intimate. It was a space created for spending time alone with someone in secret. Jazz softly played in the background. It was a song about a heartbreaking farewell. Not a bad place for a drink but not quite the sort of place you’d go if you were about to betray the Mafia. “Let me ask you a question.” Something was bothering me. “Is ‘Odasaku’ my new nickname or something?” “Yep.” The young man smiled hesitantly. “Nobody’s ever called you that before?” “No one,” I honestly replied. Most people I know call me Oda. I would’ve remembered if someone gave me such a weird nickname. The man turned away from me, lowered his gaze, and smiled. He wasn’t smiling at me. He was smiling for himself. But it seemed forced as if he had no idea what kind of expression to make. What a strange guy. “Anyway, have a seat, Odasaku.” He pointed to the counter seat next to him. “What’s your poison?” “I’ll have a gimlet. No bitters.” I sat one seat away from where he’d pointed to. Just in case. After staring at the empty spot next to him as if he was reflecting on something, he walked over to the other side of the counter and started making a drink. He then introduced himself as Dazai. After returning to his seat, Dazai raised his glass into the air as if to say “Cheers,” but I didn’t return the gesture. I didn’t even take a sip of my own drink. After all, I still needed to see if this man was worth trusting. Dazai drank alone for some time after that. Only the sound of the ice clinking in his glass—a substitute for words—filled the air. “Odasaku, I’ve got an interesting story. Want to hear it?” he suddenly asked as if he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “What is it?” “I defused a bomb the other day. Finally, right?” The young man fixed me with an earnest gaze. His eyes were strong, staring directly into mine. “My wish finally came true. I was so excited I started to dance with the unexploded bomb in my arms! I’ve been waiting so long to tell you that.” “Oh. Huh,” I replied. Even I thought it was a ridiculous reply, but I had absolutely no idea what the point of his story was or where he was trying to go by telling it to me. “One more thing: I finally perfected that hard tofu recipe I’ve been wanting you to eat. It’s three times harder and more flavorful now! I made one of my men taste a piece, and he broke his tooth on it. You’ll need to be careful when you try it for yourself!” “Is it really that hard?” I asked. “How are you supposed to eat it, then?” “I don’t even know, to tell the truth!” he said with a grin. He seemed genuinely happy. My impression of this smiley young man had completely changed from when I first met him moments ago. He may have been an adult, but his boyish voice made him sound far younger. He smiled like a lost child who had finally found his house. “Oh yeah. I almost forgot. There’s something important I wanted to ask you, Odasaku… I heard you got the Rookie of the Year award for your novel.” I was stunned. “How did you know that?” “There’s nothing I can’t find with a little digging.” His lips curled into a cryptic smirk. After scratching my head, I replied, “That’s not exactly what happened, though. This guy at some publishing agency just happened to come across one of the garbage stories I was writing for practice. He asked me if I wanted to write a novel, and I said yes. In all honesty, though, I’m not confident it’s any good.” “Why is that?” “Because there’s only one story I want to write, and it’s in here.” I tapped my temple. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the necessary tools or skills to bring this story to life. I feel like a lost mountaineer standing before the tallest, most sacred mountain in the world with just a single, tiny ice ax.” “You already have the tools,” claimed the young man with crystal clear eyes. “If you can’t write it, then nobody in this world can. I guarantee it. You’re much better than you think.” “Thanks. But it’s hard to take someone’s word for it when you’ve just only met.” I simply said the first thing that came to mind. The young man’s glass clinked, and I looked over to find him frozen with his drink still in hand. The glass, his boyish expression, even his breathing seemed to be frozen in time. I imagined something completely ridiculous for a moment: I felt as if the young man sitting before me was about to cry. But that wouldn’t make any sense. It wasn’t logical. And as I expected, his expression instantly returned to normal. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Please forget I said anything.” His cheerful, boyish expression was now gone. After pondering for a moment, I decide to bring up the main issue. “One of my men is in danger,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the gist of what’s going on, but he’s gotten himself into a little mess at the Mafia headquarters. It’d be a miracle if he made it back out in one piece. Even if he did make it out alive, the Mafia would hunt him down for the rest of his life, so I came here to make sure that wouldn’t happen. I’m hoping we can come to an agreement that’ll benefit us both.” The young man observed me in silence. It was as if he were staring at me from a thousand years in the future. He then murmured, “Akutagawa’s lucky to have come across a good friend like you.” “What?” “You don’t need to worry about Akutagawa. After today, the Mafia will never lay another finger on him. There’s no catch; he’ll be able to live the rest of his life in peace… Besides, this is what I’ve had planned since the beginning…if he makes it out of the Mafia headquarters alive, that is.” I quietly stared at the young man without moving a muscle. He said he was planning on letting Akutagawa go from the beginning, which gave rise to an idea. It was a wild idea, but everything would fall into place if I was right. I decided to ask a leading question. “Why did you lure Akutagawa into the Mafia headquarters, Dazai?” Faint cracks appeared in the young man’s expression. For a brief moment, he seemed as shocked as if he had been stabbed right in the heart. Only for a brief moment, though. His sage smile, like that of a man who had been alive for thousands of years, immediately returned. “Looks like I can’t fool you,” he quipped. “It was just a lucky guess.” I shook my head. “But my suspicions were well-grounded. First, you knew Akutagawa’s name even though I never once mentioned the deal was about him. Plus, you said your plan from the start was never to go after him or retaliate. In other words, you knew in advance that he was going to sneak into the Mafia headquarters. There’s only one person who could’ve predicted that: the man who sent the letter and photo to the detective agency—the Mafia’s boss.” I set my glass on the counter, then took something out of my pocket and placed it by my glass. Dazai’s eyes were naturally drawn to it. “…What’s that?” he asked. It was a gun aimed right for Dazai. “A sign that this negotiation is over,” I explained flatly. “While I don’t feel completely safe even with a gun to your head, I unfortunately don’t have anything else on me today.” It was an old, well-cared-for pistol. We’d gone through so much together over the years that I basically considered it my partner. I could hit a target with this gun even with my eyes closed. Dazai didn’t seem too appreciative of my gesture, though. He looked at the gun as if he was trying to restrain himself. “Put that gun away.” “I can’t,” I told him while lightly placing my finger on the trigger. “Not when I’m up against the Port Mafia’s boss—especially if this meeting itself is one of the Mafia’s traps.” “I didn’t become the boss because I wanted to.” His piercing gaze bored a hole right through me. “That’s the truth.” His eyes were so genuine that I almost started to believe him, but this was the Port Mafia’s legendary boss. Lying to a two-bit detective like me was probably easier than breathing for him. I tightened my grip around my gun. “Looks like I need to come up with a new plan to save Akutagawa,” I noted. “If I make it out of this bar alive, that is.” “This isn’t a trap. I would never even dream of doing something like that to you,” Dazai insisted. He still sounded like he was telling the truth. Damn it. I couldn’t even trust my own eyes anymore. I’d probably do better at negotiating and getting out of here alive if I gouged them out. “Odasaku, you asked me why I lured Akutagawa to the Mafia headquarters,” he began. “I did it to protect this world.” “‘This world’?” “This is but one of countless worlds,” he replied while shooting me a pleading look. “And in another—in the original world, you and I were friends. We drank at this bar and spent time together talking about the most ridiculous things.” I gave thought to the possibility. “Even if that were true…,” I said, “…that doesn’t change what you did to Akutagawa.” The young man tried to say something, but he seemed unable to find the right words. He spoke in a halting tone. “Odasaku, listen. I—” “Don’t call me that.” Even I was surprised with how sharp my tone was. “My enemies have no business calling me that.” He suddenly looked like he was struggling to breathe. His face twisted, and his eyes wandered about meaninglessly. He opened his mouth, then closed it. It was as if he was fighting something that couldn’t be seen.
Chapter 82
34 min read