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hikikomori
A girl with nothing special who believes that
everything will be alright if we can learn to
accept it as it is ^.^ Also an Internet addict,
manga lover and ultimate music listener XDXD
I love music, I listen to anything I find
interesting XD You will find most of old blog
posts are about Piko, my favourite utaite
turned pro singer from Japan. Since he is
currently not as active anymore, I am now
posting spoilers and ranting about Vanitas no
Carte and Bungou Stray Dogs and other
mangas I'm following. I do translations but not
on requests. If you don't like to be spoiled
please feel free to unfollow or block me. I'm
very sorry to see you go and I'm sorry for the
uneasiness I have caused T_T

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A

(1)
Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Final

I translated the first few pages 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.

Please 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 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.

· 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 tip 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. And to top it all off, he is holding a bunch of new
notes in his left hand.

What can this mean? Nothing. It means nothing,

except that his existence is a huge trouble, and that
nothing good will come out of getting involved with
him. In other words, he is clearly not someone that an
average citizen should get involved with. A normal
person in his right mind should have fled to the next
city at the sight of him. Just like Jonah in the Bible
would do the second time he runs into a giant fish in a
stormy sea.

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 treatments, 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 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 half of his face makes it almost
impossible to make out his features. But he is much
younger than what I first thought. He is probably young
enough to pass as a “boy”.

Then I remember the wad of cash he was holding. He

is still holding them. If it is actually as much as it looks,
it must be a fortune for someone with a miserably
cheap wage like me. In this situation, it should be okay
to have some of them gently transferred to my pocket
as a thank for saving his life, right? Thinking so, I pick
up the wad of notes. And now I finally realize that I am
the biggest idiot in this town.

I feel a bitter taste spreading inside my mouth.

That is an unused bundle of notes. There is some

blood on them, but the paper strap, the proof that they
are new, is there. There is no bank’s name printed on
the strap. There is no printing of any kind. And the
notes are neatly lined up by serial numbers in
ascending order.

I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach.

There are two possibilities that I can think of. First, this
bundle of notes has been taken out of the Reserve
Bank of Japan Mint, before it hits the market. That
would mean this man is a plague. There is no chance
that an ordinary person could get his hands on such a
thing. The notes printed at Japan Mint are first sent to
the Ministry of Finance, where their serial numbers are
scanned to become usable notes. Then they will be
sent in cash transport vehicles to branches of the
Reserve Bank. From there, they continue to be
subdivided and distributed to city banks. At that point,
the straps will be switched with those of the city banks.

However, there is no printing on his trap at all. The only

way to be able to carry out a wad of notes in that state
is to steal it from the Reserve Bank. The most likely
way is to attack a cash transport car. Could it be that
he just returned from a raid like that?

But if so, I will just stroke my chest in relief, and go

back to making coffee in my kitchen. The cash car
robbers are violent guys, but only violent. Violence
alone cannot make a storm.

There is another possibility.

These are counterfeit notes. I take out a magnifying

glass from the back of the room, and carefully examine
the wad of notes in my hand. I become completely
chilled that my fingers are tingling. I try comparing
them with the notes in my own wallet. I can’t tell the
difference at all.

A supernote.

I feel dizzy.

If that is the case, the thing in my hand right now has

become as dangerous as a small nuclear warhead.
Counterfeit currency is a tool of warfare that has been
used way before bows and arrows. If one can bring an
amount of well-made false currency into an enemy
country, the value of that currency will drop due to the
increase amount of money in circulation, leading to
inflation. A country is, in a sense, its own currency. By
skillfully fueling distrust in a country’s currency, it is
possible to destroy the economy and bring down a
whole nation. For that reason, the National Security
Agency is always on the lookout for counterfeit notes.
If this level of a note is to be brought into the market, it
would not be the city police’s business. It is much
higher. The National Security Agency, or the Military.

I put the wad of notes on my desk as if I am throwing

them away. I don’t want to leave my fingerprints on
them anymore. I head to the phone. If I report the
incident right away, I might be able to argue for some
extenuating circumstances with the authorities. There
is no time to waste.

When I pick up the receiver, I hear a faint voice. It isn’t

coming from the phone.

“Put the phone down.”

I turn to the direction where the voice came from.

Before I knew it, the young man has opened his eyes
and is looking at me with those eyes. I look at the
receiver and the youth in turn. Then I say, “What if I
don’t?”

“I kill you.”

Those words are as mediocre as the unsold leftover

packs lining up in a deli, at least to this young man. I
can tell from looking at his eyes. When he utters the
word “kill”, it is nothing more than an ordinary,
everyday word for him. Just like cutting your nails, or
going out to buy more cigarettes, those kinds of
words.

“How?” I put down the receiver, but I have not

returned it to the base station. Then I say, “You’ve got
holes all over your body. You can’t move anything.
You’re dying everywhere. You don’t even have a gun.
To kill me in that condition, it would take two hundred
of you.”

“I don’t need that much.” He says with a chilled voice.

“I’m Port Mafia.”

Those words only are enough.

“Port Mafia”, I carefully choose my words before

saying “Then I have no choice but to obey.” Then I take
my time and quietly put the receiver down.

“That’s good,” he chuckles.

If he really is from Port Mafia, I would have to be

careful even about lifting or lowering a spoon in front of
him. When the opponent is the Port Mafia, the
synonym of darkness and violence, even if I report this
and manage to escape today, there is no telling what
will come later. A human being has a total of about two
hundred bones. But it would not be strange if I will be
shredded into just as many pieces of flesh.

I stare at him for about three seconds. Then I go to the

kitchen. I keep the door open so that I can watch him
from there. I start making coffee in the kitchen. I put
the kettle on the fire and wet the rod with some water. I
add the coffee powder, and pour boiling water in.

“If I’m not allowed to call the police, what about the
doctors?” I say, keeping my eyes on the water.

“What I’ve done is just emergency first aids at best. If

you don’t get checked by a proper doctor, you will die
soon.”

“No need to worry.” The young man speaks with a

slightly stretched out voice. “This much is no big deal.
I’m used to injuries.”

“Is that so? Then I will obey.” I stir the coffee and set a
timer. “In any case, there is no way a normal postman
like me can go against the Port Mafia demons.”

“Being obedient is good. So next…”

Suddenly, the young man starts coughing and vomiting

blood. I quickly run up to him and turn his head to the
side so that he will not choke on his own blood. I
check inside his mouth. I can’t tell where the bleeding
is from in this situation. It could be just a cut inside his
mouth, or it could be an internal injury. I don’t know.

“Go to the hospital. Get treatments. You are really

going to die.” I state.

“It’s perfect then.” he speaks like whispering. “Just let

me die like this.”

I feel a chilled wind passing through me.

I look at the young man. He is just staring at the

ceiling. No emotions, no intents. Just a flat expression,
like one who is just telling his age. I cannot believe my
own eyes. I don’t even feel like there is a human there.
If it was late night instead of a refreshing early morning,
I would think that he was a ghost or a hallucination.

Crazy things keep happening today. My life is about to

get screwed up it seems.

“Fine then.” I say. “If you want to die, just die. It’s your
own life. I won’t stop you. But I will be in trouble if you
die here. If you die here, no one will be able to testify
that I am not the one who caused your injuries. I might
be arrested.”

“To be arrested, or to be killed by Port Mafia later,

which one is better?’

I stare at him while saying, “That’s a hard question.”

I go back to the kitchen, wait for the timer and turn off

the fire. I then take out the cream can and ask, “You
want some coffee?”

No answer.

“How did you collapse in front of my house?”

Still no answer.

“What the heck are those notes in your hand?”

No answer for this one of course.

I feel as if I’m talking to a wind fairy. A character from a

picture book who suddenly came to my house on a
peaceful morning. Just that he is covered in blood, and
he wants to die.

I pour coffee into two cups and add in the cream. I

watch the steam, wait for some time and start stirring.
Then I notice that I can’t feel the sign of anyone in the
next room anymore. I can’t even hear him breathing.
No hint of death drifting either.

I poke my head out of the door, the cups still in my

hand. The young man is crawling towards the front
door. If he could move his legs, he would just walk out.
But it looks like he hasn’t got that much strength back,
so he just has his arms hooked on the floor and slowly
creeping forward. Just like a prisoner escaping from
cell in those old war movies.

He notices my gaze, and then as if he has given up, a

mocking smile appears on his face.

“You don’t want me to die in this house, do you? Then

if I leave, you’ll have nothing to do with it. No need to
help me. No need to ponder anything. Just stay there
and watch.”

I ask him, still holding the coffee, “Do you want to die
that much?”

“Of course I do. I joined the Port Mafia, but there was
still nothing.” replies the young man in a voice that
sounds like a soul-deprived gasp. “The only thing I
want now, is death.”

Then he starts crawling again.

I take a sip of my coffee while watching that. His

progress is pathetically slow. I take another sip. He
keeps moving without a rest. He has no intent to look
back at me anymore.

There is only one thing to do.

“It’s no use to stop me.” The young man seems to

notice my movement. He says with his eyes looking
forward, “No one can go against the Port Mafia. And
no one in the Port Mafia can go against me. In other
words, no one can whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!??”

He is pulled backward.

I wrap him with a bed sheet and lift him up. I then twist
the two ends to close it. Like a candy wrapping paper.
Then I turn him upside down and carry him back.

“It hurts it hurts it hurts! My wounds are opening! What

the hell are you doing, you blockhead. You want to be
killed?”

“I don’t want to be killed. But I don’t want to let you die

either. If you go out in this state, you will definitely die.
Just make up a death story without me in it when you
get better.”

As it looks like he is going to let out more complaint, I

shake the lump of cloth.

“Ouch ouch! Stop it! I hate pains!!”

“Then will you give up?”

“No!”

I try to come up with a way to deal with it and I get

one. Let’s tie him to the bed.

I put him down on the bed and open the pack. I bring
in a big towel and wrap it around his arms, which are
crossed in front of his chest, altogether with his torso. I
take the decorative cord from the door way to bind his
legs together and tie the ends to the metal fittings of
the bed. I raise the pillows, change the blanket into a
new one, and open the window to let the fresh air in.

“For the time being, until your wounds have healed, I

will have you stay like that.” I look down to the young
man and say “Is there anything you want?”

“My nose is itching.” He looks at me resentfully while

wriggling his two arms that are no longer free.

“Poor you.” I go back to the coffee in the kitchen.

The young man’s insults are echoing behind my back.

But this neighborhood is sparsely populated, so there
is no need to worry about disturbing the neighbors. I
enjoy my morning coffee.

And so begins the strange and short communal life of

me and Dazai together.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #spoiler #spoilers #bsd spoilers

#side A spoilers #dazai osamu #oda sakunosuke
2,770 notes Jan 9th, 2022 

SEE MORE POSTS LIKE THIS ON TUMBLR

#dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs

#spoiler #spoilers #bsd spoilers

#side A spoilers #oda sakunosuke

MORE YOU MIGHT LIKE

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A

(2)
Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Final

Continuation from Part 1.

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
#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.

· 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!

Keep reading

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #spoilers #bsd spoilers

#side A spoilers #the day I picked up Dazai #my translation

1,407 notes 

BSD Chapter 84
Chapter name: HERO vs. CRIMINAL

Finally a long chapter after a while!!! If I’m going to go

into details like the other chapter I will end up translating
every single frame so this is a small page edit and some
of the main idea after the cut :3

PS: After I typed it out, turns out it’s not “some of the

main ideas” anymore lol. I’m sorry for the lengthy post
every time but I hope you enjoy it as I did :3

SPOILERS AHEAD

Keep reading

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #spoilers #bsd spoilers

#dazai osamu #akutagawa ryunosuke #nakajima atsushi
#fukuchi ouchi #chapter 84 #summary

652 notes 

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