“They’re not for sale! Why are you even bothering me anyway?! I’m busy, you know! And you smell like rotten tsukudani!”
“C’mon, what’s a little rotten simmered fish between us? Besides, it goes great with sake.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“No, they don’t! How can you lie about that so brazenly?!”
“B-but…it really does…taste good, y’know?”
“I didn’t mean you should be more timid about it!”
“I could really go for a drink now.”
“Good thinking! Let’s go to the usual place. We can even take this apprentice accountant with us while we’re at it. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
“I said I’m busy, so—”
“Odasaku, there’s only one way to save this man from his busyness. All we have to do is hug him tight from each side, covering him with mud, oil, and our putrid smell. That way, he physically won’t be able to work anymore today!”
“Good point.”
“Wh-what?! Are you threatening me?!”
“New guy, the Mafia doesn’t threaten. We murder. Oh, Odasaku, take the right side, will ya?”
“Sure thing.”
“W-wait! These are my best clothes! S-stop! You’re going to make me angr— Aaah!”
…………
We all gathered at the bar after that and got to know one another. There were no bosses or subordinates present; the three of us basically acted as equals. We drank, and we talked. That’s it. We talked about the city, about liquor, about the people we’ve met. It wasn’t as if we were passionately discussing some special topic we wanted to share, but even then, we didn’t run out of things to chat about. We were like soldiers who had by chance run into one another on the desert battlefield, crowded around a campfire together, quietly exchanging something or other and drinking, just sharing a moment of one another’s time.
In the world we live in, finding these types of relationships are rare, like coming upon a golden palace in the middle of a dense forest. If this relationship were to ever be broken, there would be no second chance to build something like this with anyone else ever again.
But then…
The old-fashioned pistol. The code to the safe.
Our relationship was beginning to visibly crumble at an alarming rate.
Dazai walked down a set of stairs leading to a dim basement. A white mist silently seeped in through the cracks in the stone wall, making the chamber hazy as if it were underwater. The walls were moist and black, dimly glittering after absorbing countless screams and despair.
This was the Mafia’s underground prison. Many entered alive, but very few left that way. Scores of people were taken down here for various reasons, among them the large number of instruments of torture available, the extreme difficulty involved in rescuing prisoners, and the simple fact that it was just a bit easier to clean up any mess and blood in the basement.
Dazai walked through the prison in silence as he headed toward the special prisoners’ cell. It was nothing more than a single room of around thirty-six square yards. The only entrance and exit was a short iron door; there wasn’t even a window to let the light in. Shackles and chains like those of a medieval jail hung from the wall.
There were three dead bodies in the middle of the cell—all relatively fresh. Their blood slowly spread across the floor, as if fruitlessly struggling to escape from the gloomy chamber. The ones who died here were Mimic soldiers. They had lost consciousness after breathing in knockout gas at the casino, and the Mafia had taken them here to be tortured.
“Tell me what happened,” Dazai said.
Four Mafia members were also in the cell, three of whom were Dazai’s subordinates who had helped fight against the sniper in the back alley. The fourth was a short, lean boy robed in a black overcoat.
“We used sleeping gas to knock out the Mimic’s vanguard when they attacked our casino, and then we brought them here,” one suited subordinate replied, pushing up his sunglasses. “We planned on torturing them for info on their allegiances, and we even removed the poison tucked away in their molars so they couldn’t kill themselves.”
“Yes, I’ve got that much. This was my plan, after all. What I want to know is what happened next.”
“One of the soldiers woke up quicker than we expected…” The one in sunglasses started stumbling over his words. “Before we could shackle him…he grabbed one of our guns and killed his men…just to make sure they wouldn’t talk. Then he attacked us, and—”
“I executed him.” The young boy in the black overcoat finished the mafioso’s sentence. Dazai looked at the boy, whose wide eyes glared back. “Is there a problem?”
“I see… No, there’s no problem.” Staring right into the boy’s eyes, Dazai continued, “You defeated an unyielding, formidable enemy and protected your allies, Akutagawa. Good work.”
Dazai began walking toward the boy in the black overcoat, the one he’d called Akutagawa. “Only your skill can defeat such a powerful enemy in one hit. Impressive. I wouldn’t expect any less from a subordinate of mine. Thanks to you, all three of the enemies we captured are dead—enemies I set a trap for and worked really hard to capture alive. Now we’re back to square one without a clue. If at least one of them were still living, we could’ve gotten some valuable information: where their base is, what they want, what’s their next target, who their leader is, where this leader came from, what this leader’s skill is… You really did us a favor.”
“Information? I’ll just slice every one of them into pieces until—”
Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud.
“Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles.
“Urgh…”
Akutagawa moaned. He’d hit his head so hard that he couldn’t even stagger to his feet.
“Give me your gun,” Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magazine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, and then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground.
“I have this friend who’s supporting several orphans all on his own, you see,” he continued, his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. “Akutagawa, I’m sure Odasaku would’ve been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who’d found you on the brink of starvation in the slums. That would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. But ‘righteousness’ doesn’t take very kindly to me. And there’s only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates.”
Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.
Three gunshots. Three flashes of light. Three empty shells tinkled across the floor.
“……”
Sweat dripped down Akutagawa’s forehead.
“See? You really can do it if you put your mind to it.”
The bullets were floating motionlessly right in front of Akutagawa. He had used his skill to stop them. Yet, despite that, his expression indicated he was struggling.
“I’ve told you this over and over again,” Dazai said, amused. “Your skill isn’t just for slicing up poor prisoners. You can use it to defend yourself, too.”
Akutagawa’s skill, Rashomon, allowed him to control his black overcoat like another life-form, transforming it into fangs or blades to cut through his opponents. Dazai had also theorized that his skill could even rupture space itself, thus blocking incoming bullets.
“Until now…I’ve never successfully used it to block.”
Akutagawa’s voice was lifeless, hoarse. He’d used most of his mental strength to create an interruption in space.
“But look at you now. You did it. I’m so happy for you.”
>
Akutagawa scowled. A look of severe tension shot across his face, almost exploding with emotion.
“Next time you mess up, I’m punching you twice and shooting five times. Got it?”
Dazai’s voice was colder than ice. Akutagawa tried to say something back, but Dazai’s stern gaze pressured him into silence.
“Now that I’m done educating my incompetent underling, it’s time to get to work. Let’s check the bodies. We might be able to find something.”
After giving orders to the three subordinates at his side, one timidly spoke up.
“So…what exactly do you want us to check?”
“Everything! Isn’t it obvious?” Dazai cried in exasperation. “We need to find something that might lead us to their hideout. Anything could be a clue: the soles of their shoes, the trash in their pocket, food crumbs from whatever they ate, adhesives stuck to their clothes—everything. Tsk… My lackeys seem to think beating the enemy to death is all the Mafia does. Odasaku’s gonna solve everything all by himself at this rate.”
“Sakunosuke Oda… I know that guy,” the subordinate with sunglasses added hesitantly. “Dazai, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but…I saw him sweeping behind the office the other day. A man of his status isn’t qualified to be your friend, let alone contend with an enemy like this.”
Dazai stared, flabbergasted, at his underling.
“Are you joking? Odasaku’s not qualified?” Dazai asked, thoroughly surprised.
“Yes…”
The other men nodded as well.
“You fools!”
Dazai’s lips curled into a sneer in genuine disgust. “Listen, I’m telling you guys this for your own good. Do not make Odasaku angry—no matter what you do. If you were to anger him—truly, deeply upset him—then all five people in this room would be dead before anyone could even draw their guns.”
The subordinates were at a loss for words. Even Akutagawa stared at Dazai with a tense expression on his face.
“When he’s serious, Odasaku’s scarier than anyone in the entire Mafia. Akutagawa, you could train for a hundred years, and you still wouldn’t be able to beat him.”
“…That is absurd…,” Akutagawa muttered, his voice stifled. “…That’s impossible. Are you saying that I—?”
But Dazai just ignored him.
“Now, let’s get to work! Our enemy might be a pain, but if we don’t sort this out soon, the Special Division for Unusual Powers is gonna show up to put the fire out, and we don’t want that.”
His hands still on the stone floor, Akutagawa merely glared at Dazai.
“…”
His spiteful gaze was aimed at not only Dazai, but even Akutagawa himself.
I left the accounting firm thinking about Ango, the man slowly slipping into evil somewhere in town. Or perhaps we, the Mafia, were the bad guys while Ango and Mimic were on the side of justice trying to bring us down. I started to believe that this hypothesis actually made even more sense than the others. Dazai, the boss, me, everyone in the Mafia—maybe we all deserved to die burdened with sin, solitude, and remorse. For all I knew, that could’ve been proof of the righteousness of this world. Those thoughts plagued my mind from the moment I departed the firm until I got a call from Dazai not long after.
“Hey, Odasaku. I know this is sudden, but we got a clue. I need you to go somewhere for me right now.”
According to him, the Mimic soldiers’ shoes had multiple dead leaves stuck on them from a certain perennial broadleaf that didn’t lose its leaves during that period. The entire plant would have to be withering for the leaves to fall, but perennials would not die so easily. Therefore, one conceivable possibility was that an herbicide was used to kill it.
From there, Dazai’s men searched for specialists who had used herbicides to get rid of trees those past few months. As a result, they found one shop around Yokohama that did in fact remove the same kind of broadleaves. Workers had cleared a bunch of them from the side of the road for a land readjustment project, part of which included expanding a traffic tunnel.
The area was in the mountains and void of any real landmarks. The only facility nearby was a weather observation station that had been abandoned over a decade ago. Nobody dared go near. It slowly fell apart, fading with time. The building was large, isolated, and capable of storing goods and resources. It was the perfect hideout for a group like Mimic, all alone in a foreign country with no one to turn to.
Night was not far off. I drove down the highway toward my destination as violet and cerise quarreled in the sky over the horizon. Somewhere off in the distance, I heard the sound of seabirds squawking.
I stopped my car along a dirt trail that cut into the mountains and got out. From there, I trotted through the thick weedy path until I eventually saw a reinforced concrete building in the darkness, bathing in the crimson glow of twilight.
It was a three-story abandoned building. Ivy crawled up what were once white walls, which had been battered with rain, the sea breeze, and the passage of time. Most of the paint was now gone. In the center of the building was an observation tower for monitoring the sky, topped with a spherical observation room that seemed to have been added more for aesthetics than for anything else.
Since the dirt and trees absorbed most sounds, the area was completely silent as if it were floating in outer space. I didn’t get the feeling there were many people hiding inside. After a moment’s thought, I decided to investigate the run-down building myself before Dazai’s men would arrive. I had a hunch, and if this hunch was correct, then I should’ve been able to find information on Ango there, and that information was probably something I shouldn’t show anyone else in the Mafia.
Pushing through the weeds, I entered the building. There was nothing on the first floor…if you ignored the loose floor tiles, rusted chairs, and dead beetles scattered about. The evening sun peeked in through the cracks of the boarded windows, illuminating the dust particles in the air. I discovered a few footprints in the dust and gravel-littered floor—military boots. It appeared a number of people had been coming to this spot as of late.
I had placed a foot on the staircase to the second floor, which looked as if it could come crumbling down at any moment, when I heard a sound coming from somewhere in the building. It was very faint, only about as loud as a kitten rolling on its back. I strode up the staircase, but I didn’t see a soul on the second floor. No signs of anyone on the third floor, either. It was just as I thought. I rushed upstairs, climbing the observation tower that connected to the observation room.
As I entered a small room at the top of the stairs, I found someone tied to a chair and unable to move. That person yelled at me the moment they noticed I was there.
“Odasaku! Stay back!”
I ignored his command and ran over. That man—Ango—struggled to free his hands, which had been tightly tied behind his back, but the rope didn’t even budge. I slipped behind him and began trying to untie his bonds.
“Why did you come?! The enemies are using this facility as their base!”
“I just got the feeling that you wanted help.”
I started to dismantle the knots—no easy feat.
“I don’t need any help!”
“Really?”
I slipped a finger into one of the rope’s knots, then tugged at it with a viselike grip. It loosened slightly.
“Let me guess one of the reasons you’re in trouble. Mimic found out you were a spy. Am I wrong?”
“…! That’s…”
Ango fell silent.
“Everyone in the Mafia thinks you’re a Mimic spy who infiltrated the Mafia. But it’s actually the opposite; Ango Sakaguchi is a Mafia spy who infiltrated Mimic.”
Ango instinctively opened his eyes wide and looked at me.
“Mimic was watching your room through a sniper rifle scope to make sure the old pistol inside wouldn’t get stolen. But why didn’t they just snipe the Mafia’s boss and get it over with? The reason is simple: You lied
and said you didn’t know where the boss was. But why did you do that? Because the boss decides everything you say and don’t say about the Mafia.”
Ango squeezed his eyes shut. Clenching his teeth, he seemed to be struggled to keep down the emotions bubbling up from within. Before long, he opened his eyes again and said, “Odasaku, please, you have to get out of here. I failed.” Ango signaled to the floor above with his chin. “There’s a time bomb upstairs. Now that they know I betrayed them, they plan on leaving no trace of me.”
“See? I knew you needed my help.” I gave up on trying to untie the knot and pulled out my gun. “Lean as far away from the chair as you can.”
I carefully aimed at the rope’s knot and fired two shots. The entire chair shook as the rope flew off.
“Let’s get out of here. How much time do we have before the bomb goes off?”
“The whole building is coming down any second now!”
Lending Ango my shoulder, we rushed down the staircase. It appeared Ango was slightly roughed up before being bound; he staggered while holding his side. But even then, we sprinted down the stairs so fast that we almost fell. The bomb went off right as we were about to run out the door. The shock wave came first, followed by blasts of hot air swooping down over us.
We leaped out the door headfirst. To be more technical about it, the blast blew us outside headfirst, and we were thrown into the thickets. All the air was squeezed out of my lungs.
Finally, rubble and debris from the building started raining down from the sky. I tried to move out of the way, but the blast from the bomb had rendered my body useless. Fortunately, no heavy chunks of concrete flew our way, and the light boards of the walls were sent flying far into the distance. Still, our backs were uncomfortably pelted with countless bits of gravel both large and small.
It took almost an entire minute before we could start breathing normally again. I coughed as I brushed the rubble off my head. My vision went back and forth from red to white.
“Ango… Are you okay?”
Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era Page 8