#twitter is good for one (1) thing and that’s screenshotting tumblr posts to repost <3

[residentevilheritageposts]

found a screenshot on twt of the yaoi break post if you'd like to post it since they killed the original post 💔

Resident Evil heritage post

[sunalearnschinese]

Part 3 Reading erha 二哈和他的白猫师尊 + Learning Chinese

🎵🍇Good morning!🍇🎶

I would like to thank everyone who liked my previous post and who gave tips on how to improve! It's really motivating =w=

Also thanks to my friend who taught me how to use Tumblr, it's my first time here lol

For anyone new, or those who are unfamiliar with the book I am going through, I have to warn you some scenes are very dark and have NSFW themes. I didn't just choose a bit of angst or a bit of kissing, no this book goes straight to 100 and beyond 🚀 if you don't like that please keep scrolling. The MC is a tyrannical ass wipe who has 311 chapters of redemption ok. This was one of the few books to make me cry where the story and characters are so beautifully written that I am happy to translate everything. We must get through the tough times to enjoy the real romance 🥰

(art 大米小粥炒白菜 @porridge2_ on Twitter)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The following sentences don't have anything graphic but do include a few innuendos, so watch out!

TAGS: Xianxia, Rebirth, Action, Conspiracy, Angst, 1?v1 HE, NSFW 

WARNINGS: Dubcon, Underage Sex

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

(part 1) 当然，总也有过一些与狗相关的形容，不算太差。比如他那些露水情缘，总是带着几分佯怒，(part 2) 嗔他在榻上腰力如公狗，嘴上甜言勾了人的魂魄，身下凶器夺了卿卿性命，(part 3) 但转眼又去与旁人炫耀，搞得瓦肆间人人皆知他墨微雨人俊器猛，试过的饕足意满，没试过的心弛神摇。

…that the strength of his back was like that of a male dog; honey dripped from his lips luring away the soul, but the weapon down below was robbing the sweetness of her life.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

VOCABULARY + grammar:

1. 嗔 - to be/get angry - chēn 

It sounds similar to the English word "churn". 嗔 is commonly used to express mild or moderate anger. It's not an extremely strong or aggressive term for anger. You might use it in casual conversations to express frustration or annoyance.

2. 榻 - a place where someone rests or sleeps (bed/couch)- tà 

3. 腰 - waist - yāo 

It refers to the lower part of the back and the area around the waist.

4. 力 - strength/power - lì

Often used in compound words related to strength, power or ability.

5. 如 - like/ as - rú 

如 is commonly used to create similes or comparisons. It helps draw parallels between two things or concepts.

如 + 同/像 tóng/xiàng + Subject of Comparison + (Adjective/Verb/Description)

e.g. 如同 + 清晨的鸟鸣… "Like the morning birdsong…"

Note that 如 can also be used without 同/像 to indicate a comparison, but including them helps make the comparison more explicit. 

比如 - for example - bǐ rú (same as 例如 lìrú)

如同 - as - rú tóng

6. 公 - public/ common/ male animal (this case) - gōng

7. 嘴 - mouth (opening) - zuǐ

Why use 嘴 instead of 口?

嘴 emphasise + focus on mouth as a physical feature, more specific shape, movement e.g. 嘴唇 (zuǐ chún): Lips, 嘴角 (zuǐ jiǎo): Corners of the mouth

嘴 commonly used when discussing emotions, expressions e.g. 嘴上甜言 (sweet words spoken by mouth), 嘴硬 (stubborn in speech)

口 is more general, commonly used for speaking, eating, drinking, or breathing + used when counting people (e.g., 三口人, "three people").

8. 甜 - sweet (flavour/ emotions) - tián

9. 言 - words/speech - yán

10. 勾 - hook/ captivate - gōu

11. 魂魄 - soul + spirit - hún pò

灵魂 (líng hún): This is a more commonly used term for "soul" in everyday language.

12. 凶 - fierce/ cruel - xiōng

13 器 - tool/ weapon - qì 🌭

14. 夺 - to snatch/ to seize - duó

15.卿卿 - poetic way to address - qīng qīng

Used to refer to a beloved or a person of affection. It's a way of expressing deep emotional attachment and love. 

16. 性命 - life/ existence - xìng mìng

Used in more serious or dramatic contexts where the concept of life and its fundamental nature is being emphasized. In this sentence, the life is the center of attention.

OVERALL NOTES:

I was told it would be good to invest in a special book with squares so I can write my characters more correctly, so I will try to get that soon (delivery might take a while though so you will have to bear with me for now).

I got so happy because yesterday I was scrolling through Instagram and someone reposted some screenshots of Heaven's Official Blessing manhua and I understood some new words from just reading 2 sentences from this book!? exciting stuff :D

[truncatedgrip]

I posted 24,800 times in 2022

31 posts created (0%)

24,769 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stelte23

@tfcoorock

@thetwinarmageddons

@oakskull

@i-dont-know-how-to-exist

I tagged 2,116 of my posts in 2022

#mcyt - 159 posts

#hermitcraft - 76 posts

#this is my son he has every disease - 72 posts

#pokemon - 62 posts

#submas - 62 posts

#inscryption spoilers - 57 posts

#fave - 56 posts

#eyestrain - 51 posts

#emmet - 47 posts

#byrd squawks - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#summaried that end like “will the character find a way out or will blablabla” annoy me but if the premise is good enough ill still give it a

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ik ben hiermee geobsedeerd god help me

166 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#4

im normal i swear

216 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

#3

PSA for new tumblr users!

there's plenty of posts like this going around, but one more can't hurt lmao

Tumblr is NOT like Instagram or Twitter or TikTok! Likes don't do SHIT here. There is no algorithm, no fyp.

If you enjoy a post, REBLOG!!!

Reblogging a post helps it gain traction, plus you can leave private comments in the tags that only op and the person you reblogged from will see.

This is ESPECIALLY important for art and fic!!! Reblogging supports the artist/writer, and i can guarantee you that any little comment you put in tags will make their day.

Also, unlike a lot of other social media, tumblr posts have no "expiration date". It's common for old posts to randomly resurface and be mass-reblogged by people. It's also fairly common to go through someone's blog and spam-reblog (some people don't like this, and will say so in their bio or pinned post. usually tho, you can assume spam-reblogging will only bring a smile to someone's face). It's also common to reblog a post multiple times in a row!

Also, reblogging =/= reposting! Reblogging still gives op the traction and notes, unlike (as i've heard anyway, i don't use twt) quote-retweets. When an artist says "don't repost", they mean don't save the image and share it in an entirely new post of your own.

Next topic! Tags. Tags in a post itself won't do anything. Use the tumblr tags for it! Tumblr tags also let you make comments in a sort of "whisper voice", and sometimes someone will see your tags and find them funny enough to screenshot and put in a reblog. This is colloquially known as being peer reviewed, and is both a blessing and a curse. People can also see who you reblogged from, and sometimes will reblog from that person instead if there's "unnecessary comments" in a reblog, such as an @ or an in-joke with a mutual.

If you don't reblog anything, people will tend to assume you're a bot and block you on sight. This site has a history of pornbots who will like a post on someone's blog and thus create a connection for google searches. Most people don't want that connection, and thus block empty blogs. Having a profile picture and a blog title/bio will help prevent this, but even with your likes public an empty blog will often get blocked on sight.

Speaking of public likes! They're useless. Mostly, likes are used to save posts for later, such as a recipe you want to look back on, or a video you couldn't watch while in public, or something you couldn't reblog because you hit your post limit. Tumblr's post limit is iirc about 200 posts a day (incl reblogs), so go ham! If your post limit has been hit, you can always queue things up for later. In your blog settings you can find your queue, and adjust how often and when it'll post. You can have up to 1000 posts queued, so when i say go ham i MEAN go ham.

TL;DR always REBLOG rather than LIKE, and use TAGS to comment!

240 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#2

non-comprehensive vibe chart of some streamers i enjoy

368 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

posting my tumblr banner for nickapocalypse day

402 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[x3rrorx]

You don’t have to share this, I’m sending you this because I’ve been following this entire drama since day 1 since the noahrare blog and the 2 copycats:

1) Carolina doxxed herself from the beginning, the stupid picture of the mirror was posted in the noahrare blog right after someone mentioned that Noah had a girlfriend (it was folio’s and someone made up an entire rumor) and a few days later she magically found said blog and sent a story about Noah and how she wanted to move on. I’m not saying it’s true but there’s something that tells me that the noahrare blog was Carolina herself, the blog talked about a groupchat with fans and if the person behind that blog didn’t care about repercussions they would have posted screenshots (that they apparently had) about said groupchat after so many people asked them to do so (this was before Carolina found the blog) and then the blog magically disappeared after saying ‘how bad they felt’ for putting such a personal picture out there (very convenient after getting the picture everywhere)

2) it’s not the first time she has threatened/doxxed someone and herself here on tumblr, she threatened 2 different bad omens accounts that were only answering shit people asked them and until the end they never EVER shared any of her socials they kept calling her MG until the threats started. Someone asked Carolina in her tumblr account how did she found so many things and she said that “rage made you do crazy things” (talking about Noah’s ‘stalker’) that she also doxxed cause she blasted her name out there she also posted her Twitter handle after someone asked her about her socials and said that she wouldn’t give away her Instagram username so yeah she fucking exposed herself not anyone else. Oh yeah after the noahrare2 blog appeared if looked it up on Twitter exactly like that the first thing that popped up was Carolina’s profile doxxing someone else once again. She did it herself not you not anyone else.

3)No one exposed her nudes I totally believe you on this one, you can literally google any other onlyfans model’s name and their pics and videos will come up (sadly for them) but no one publicly shared nothing (really sucks for her I’ve been in her position and it’s not cool) no one exposed her Instagram either and I have a pretty good guess on how they found it, she reposted some pics she took while working in a concert and her full name it’s in it a quick instagram search and guess what? Multiple fans follow her, the same fans that chased bad omens through the country (not only Juli) but she’s the most notorious.

4) She could get in serious trouble for posting pictures without Noah’s consent and basically exposing him to the public and since shes so smart she should know how each country has different laws and if I’m not mistaken sharing pictures without consent here can be considered serious? Unless I’m wrong on this one idk

5) Juli could have gotten Noah in trouble while in the cruise and no one seems to acknowledge this and it really concerns me, she was 17 and there’s a tweet of her saying that whenever she turned around Noah was right behind her (as in following her) and and this is such a fucking delicate matter because if she lied about so many things back then and it’s lying about so much shit now you really think she’s not gonna lie about something even bigger? Bigger than a fucking parking permit? She’s dangerous and I’m talking about evil kind of dangerous, yes I do believe she’s trying to get Noah’s attention and the cruise was the perfect opportunity for her, she was a minor do you have any idea what could’ve happened to him? And she doesn’t give a single shit about this either.

6)The vip situation, yes they cancel because he can’t get sick and that’s totally fine HOWEVER Juli wasn’t the only one with vip tickets for like more than half of the tour and the fact someone said ‘my groupie tour it’s over’ it’s fucking weird idc how hard you work for your money following them through so many vip events it’s absolutely insane, they are all aware of the situation and they are friends with other people that shit spreads around, they know their faces, they know it’s not the first time they do this and they can definitely tell they are not there for the music. So yes I do believe they removed the vip partially because of the drama.

Listen It really fucking sucks what you’re going through and I’m really sorry you didn’t deserve any of that and I’m really sorry about your mom I hope both of you are okay, I know how much it sucks to feel like no one believes you I BELIEVE YOU okay? There’s plenty of people who have seen through these girls colors and probably even the guys are fucking weirded out by all of this, it’s just a matter of time before they actually call them out and embarrass them or they embarrass themselves, again you don’t have to post any of this I’m not here for clout of to be seen as a knight in shining armor, I’m here because these girls are causing damage to an entire fandom and a band and they don’t realize this, Juli’s comment about punching someone from sumerian CAN get the boys in trouble and they CAN take legal action against her, Carolina it’s not from this country and could get in trouble for threatening citizens of this country THEY COULD BAN FROM ENTERING THE COUNTRY, i fucking love bad omens, not Noah or any of the guys individually but Bad Omens as a band and seeing these people actually ruining something they worked hard for actually pisses me off. Also we don’t know if Sabina it’s also taking part in any of this since she’s as crazy as them.

A few people came to me and said they believe she was Noahrare. Obviously have no proof of that but a lot of people believe that theory as well.

I’ve also got a message someone who talked with MG’s other band member ex as well as other fans she’s harassed. I didn’t have any proof of what that person was saying to me was true as they didn’t wanna tell me who the people were and the people themselves didn’t come forward. Hopefully that will come to light.

I honestly don’t think Sabina is taking any part in this. I am happy that so many people are aware of her because she is definitely a danger.

[popopretty]

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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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.

...

[foundthe8wing]

Okay, doing this over here because my main tumblr is usually a place for me to vibe and I don’t want all the bullshit tied to that account, but basically: I’m really angry and disappointed with the dndads cast for how they’ve put a lot of the minors in their fanbase in danger. Everything below is a repost from twitter (with permission from the OP, crypticjoy), and I’ll link the thread in a reblog. 

Under a cut because it’s long and potentially triggering (content warnings for grooming, sexualizing minors, and sexual assault)

[OP tagged the relevant cast accounts; I added slashes here bc I’m not sure if those same urls exist on tumblr and I don’t want to be randomly tagging people over here]

5:49 PM Sep 5, 2020

“I don’t usually do this, but: the way that the cast of @/dungeonsanddads engages with their audience is actively dangerous to minors, and they need to get it together. (cw for discussion of grooming, sexualizing minors, sexual assault)

First off, there are some iffy jokes and situations in the podcast itself. I’m not going to get into all of it right here, but have a google doc: [doc will also be linked in reblog]

Yes, the kids in #dndads are fictional, but that doesn’t mean this stuff doesn’t affect real kids listening. a. it normalizes talking/joking about kids in that way and b. There’s a lot of inconsistancy and confusion on the lines they draw--

Paeden saying “baby” is weird but Ron sitting in Terry Jr’s lap isn’t? I’m confused. You know who the fuck relies on that type of confusion and unclarity? Fucking predators

And I’m not saying every in-character decision has to be perfectly moral or acceptable, but the way the cast, out of character, discuss what’s weird and what’s not sends a lot of mixed messages. And that’s legitimately dangerous.

So then you take all of this, and you add a patron discord server that lets nsfw discussions run virtually unchecked--you create a fandom space that allows adults to discuss kinks, and porn searches, and just, all this other stuff, with teenagers...

... and it becomes a breeding ground for grooming and abuse.

The creators aren’t responsible for babysitting their fanbase or for how people engage with their content outside of their spaces (though, again, I’d urge them to be very careful about what kind of messages they’re sending)

But  they ARE responsible for taking basic steps to keep the spaces that THEY create and engage with safe.

“But the rules for the server say 18+!” The rules say you have to be 18 *or have parental permission.* They also say to keep things PG-13. That’s vastly different than establishing something as an adult-only/nsfw space.

“Minors shouldn’t be joining/listening anyway!” The cast can’t control who listens and neither can I, but there’s a difference between knowing teens are listening to you discuss sex with your adult friends vs facilitating conversations between teens and adults on those topics.

“If people are uncomfortable they can just leave.” First off, this situation isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s unSAFE. Second: fuck that. It’s not on minors to set and maintain boundaries about this stuff; a lot of them literally do not know how

Not because they’re stupid, but because they’re young and inexperienced. It’s the responsibility of adults to set and enforce healthy boundaries around sexual discussions, and this particular group of adults has done a fucking terrible job

(Maybe don’t encourage listeners to DM you about kinks! Maybe especially don’t do that when you’ve communicated, intentionally or not, that making and escalating sexual jokes is a really good way to get a reaction from you guys)

I get that they didn’t expect to have so many young listeners, but to be aware of that fact and make no adjustments whatsoever is irresponsible and it WILL lead to someone getting hurt. Does their “young, thirsty, female” audience only exist to them when they can laugh about it?

And let’s be absolutely 1000% clear: this isn’t an issue they’re unaware of. The stuff I’m talking about is an ongoing problem with how their server is run, but it came to a head with one specific situation very recently:

They released a bonus, patron-exclusive episode about the dads taking the bdsm test. Given the general state of the server, I was worried about where those discussions might lead, so before it dropped, I reached out to @/anthony_burch to express my concern

He told me he raised the issue with @/fwong and Ashley, meaning at least three members of the dndads team were aware of the situation, and decided it didn’t warrant any type of preemptive action on their part

(alternatively, it means Anthony lied, which would be a whole separate issue)

[Image ID: a discord DM conversation from Sep 1, 2020, between a crossed out username and reverendanthony. It reads: 

OP: heyyyyy have you guys considered that releasing an episode focused on the bdsm test is almost inevitably going to lead to a bunch of 15 year olds sharing their results in your server because you might want to get ahead of that before someone gets hurt

reverendanthony: oh holy shit, really good idea

OP: thanks, I know it's easy to veer into that territory just because of the nature of your show but I wanted to bring it to your attention because I figured you don't want to create a situation that's like, actively dangerous (and for the record I'm willing to discuss what I think would make it safer but I'm also not going to assume you want/need my input, obviously you can handle it however you see fit)

reverendanthony: No, thank you for bring it up, I really appreciate it -- I just raised the issue with Freddie and Ashley

OP: Good to know, thank you /End ID]

I’m not overreacting. I have seen this shit happen, to my friends and to myself, and watching the dndads cast take absolutely no meaningful action to prevent situations like that from occurring directly under their noses makes me fucking livid

I can guarantee that the #dungeonsanddaddies fanbase includes both predators and survivors of abuse, grooming, etc (including those currently living through it), and I need them to think very, very hard about which group they’re prioritizing.

And I need that choice to be evident through more than just their words, because it doesn’t fucking matter how much you “really appreciate” that I brought up my concerns if you do fuck-all to address them.

It doesn’t matter how many times you say the word “consent” if apparently everyone was okay that “Darryl gets sexually assaulted” was almost a plot point played for laughs.

(His dare from Scam  would have been rape, straight up. Just because no one said the word doesn’t mean it wasn’t coercive and gross).

I’d like to think the @/dungeonsanddads cast isn’t intentionally encouraging abuse, but they’re sure as hell enabling it, and they needed to get their shit together ages ago, because they’re not the ones their negligence hurts.”

Quote retweet by OP 6:51 PM Sep 7, 2020

“So, they updated the rules for the patron server, but I want to be really clear that from my perspective, it’s way too little, way too late. 

The new rules don’t adequately address the core issues and they certainly don’t absolve the cast of the harm they’ve already caused. 

[Tweet includes 2 screenshots: one of a bot asking people to click thumbs up to confirm they’re 18+ (or have a parent’s permission) and agree to the rules, and one that includes two of the rules. It reads: 

“This is an 18+ space. Them’s the rules: per Patreon’s policy, you must be 18+ or have parental permission.

Use language as if you’re at your parents dinner table. Don’t get people in trouble because of your SPICY POSTS. Keep conversation polite. NSFW content is not allowed!”]

(and before anyone says I should bring up my concerns privately, a quick refresher on how well that went last time I did it:) 

[links back to the “(alternatively, it means Anthony lied . . .)” tweet from the original thread]

So hey, @/fwong, some thoughts:

1.The rules are vague and unclear: what /exactly/ do you mean when you say “NSFW content is not allowed!” when the content of your show itself is so often nsfw? And how are you planning to enforce this?

Does it mean you’ll shut down the MBIC conversation that is literally just kink discussion? I need you to be clear on where the line is, because, again, predators rely on that confusion. Don’t give them a gray area to play in. 

For an example of a more clear policy, it’s pretty easy to say, “yep, ‘Henry gets pegged’ sure is a sentence we said on our show and you don’t have to pretend it’s not, but if you’d like to discuss it in any more detail at all, you need to move”

2. Remember how I said I needed to be clear on whether you’re prioritizing survivors or predators? While I doubt it was intentional, the language you’re using here is prioritizing predators.

It’s not “don’t get people in trouble,” it’s “don’t make people uncomfortable.” It’s “we all have a responsibility to make sure this space is safe for everyone, especially the younger members of the community.”

You’re setting people up to be afraid of expressing concerns for fear of “getting people in trouble” or “inciting unnecessary drama.” Even if it’s not what YOU meant, it’s very easy for those words to be manipulated, so +

You absolutely have to be explicitly clear that if someone expresses their discomfort, you’ve got their back. Being safe is more important than being polite. 

3. I need every cast member to take responsibility for their own actions. I’ve gotten no indication from any of you that you understand the ways in which the in-show things I brought up were harmful.

Acknowledging that harm is important not just because of the immediate effects of that content, but also because it implicitly sets an example for how similar complaints should be dealt with going forward.

When someone says “hey, I was uncomfortable that you seem fine with the Glennary ship, because she reads as very young to me,” I don’t need a dissertation on how the perception of characters can evolve due to your improvisational nature

I need to hear “oh, I interpreted her differently, but you’re right, we should have been more clear, and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Because your responses to your own mistakes set the tone for any other situations like that going forward.

How comfortable is someone going to be with coming to you, or Ash, or any of the mods about someone making them uncomfortable if they’ve seen that when people call YOU out, they’re argued with and shut down?

Don’t tell people you’ve “made it clear that you won’t go there” when they tell you that you ARE there. Listen to them and do better. 

Set the expectation that people will be respected when they raise their concerns. “If you want to come at me you have to bring the heat” is not an appropriate response on a subject that made people genuinely uncomfortable. 

In essence: set people up to be supported and protected, not dismissed. 

[It’s like a matriosche of tweets over here. This one links to another thread, also by crypticjoy. That thread reads:

A non-comprehensive guide to keeping discord servers safe for minors:

1. Make designated channels for nsfw/18+ discussion. Generally speaking, this is a lot more effective than banning those discussions altogether, because it’s a lot easier to say “hey, can you move this conversation?” than “hey, I need you to stop”

In fandom spaces, it’s usually a good idea to have separate channels for talking about nsfw fiction vs discussing your personal sex lives.

2. Give everyone minor/adult roles; make sure your 18+ channels are locked to people who don’t have an adult role. It’s important that there’s more of a barrier there than just checking a box.

3. NSFW channels shouldn’t necessarily be a free-for-all; be aware of people’s boundaries and respect them (for example, r*pe jokes aren’t funny or okay, even if you’re not making them around kids)

4. Explicitly state in your rules that people should feel free to come to mods if anyone is making them uncomfortable. Actually listen to people and resolve the situation if they do approach you.

5. Make it clear that creepy behavior via DMs or other means is also not tolerated--you can’t control what people do outside your server, but you can make the choice to not allow people like that in your space

6. Make sure mods are on top of things BEFORE people have to say anything; sometimes being a mod means being willing to be the “asshole” who shuts things down before they get out of hand, even if they’re not asked.

Be generally aware of signals that people are uncomfortable or that things are escalating too far, and address those situations sooner rather than later.

*It should be noted that safety involves a lot of components beyond just containing nsfw discussions; this thread just happens to be focused on that one specific element.

oh also! It's a good idea to provide resources on grooming so people know what to look out for [links to some resources; again, this’ll be in the reblog]]

So, @/dungeonsanddads, if you’re interested in anything beyond just having a flimsy excuse you can point to to cover your own ass, I’m gonna need you to try again.

Sorry I can’t be nicer about it, but I’ve given so many benefits of the doubt I could be running a successful charity, and this isn’t an issue I’m willing to drop. 

10:02 PM

Thought I was done but actually I've got a few more questions: to what extent were @/HeyBethMay, @/WillBCampos, and @/mattLarnold included in conversations about this issue/the new rules? Is this something your whole team is involved in?

Have you discussed what you're doing on a team and individual basis to keep your fan interactions safe, and are you on the same page about how much it matters? Are you holding each other accountable? Is everyone okay with where this ended up?”

[1eos]

omg omg apparently the person who stole your posts is a taiwanese girl and she committed suicide by overdosing pills this morning.. her twitter account is now privated so i can’t see anything now and the last tweet i saw before it went private is that her best friend is managing her account to retweet kpop stuff and that people should stop bothering her (as in her bff) SAD serves this bitch right she deserves to die

so........there’s a lot to go over with this one. first nd foremost suicide tw obvs

1. if this indeed happened (nd i will get to why i think it didnt) anon you’re a piece of shit reveling in someone’s s**cide attempt nd thinking i would too just bc they reposted some words onto a different platform. tumblr nd twitter will Never be that serious. esp not to me. nd i would NEVER be the callous person you think i am to laugh at someone's mental decline like you are fucking evil nd i would beat the shit outta you if i could

2. i know this is dynamiteinluv/mnoonyngi or one of your friends trying to throw us off your tail nd make us feel bad (over some dumbass posts) for some insane reason. i know this is you for two reasons:

2.1. no one else cares. that initial ask happened at like 2am the other night nd btwn then i haven't mentioned it nd have talked abt at least 5 different things since then. but ofc this isnt hard evidence. 

2.2. how do i  REALLY know this is you? well for one your story don’t add up. you sent this ask 8 hrs ago screenshot here: 

at 3am 11/8/20 when ari @comintoyoulive posted a screenshot of them privating YESTERDAY 11/7/20 around 10 am her time

so........you say you can’t see the tweets bc u’re not following her but ari found out they privated nd changed their acct name 15 hrs before u???????? if u were all up in this person’s tweets why did it take u 15 whole hrs to send this ask to me if this is such an urgent matter? 

2.3. i have a hunch u are dynamiteinluv bc you’re STILL following me bro nd stealing posts that don’t belong to you. not to mention stealing posts abt being called a NEGRO when according to this ask you’re taiwanese............................not a good look

SO YOU TAIWANESE GETTING CALLED A NEGRO IN CANADA? THAT'S WHAT THIS IS?

3. :) nd u wanna know something anon? i sent a follow request to the twitter user formerly known as dynamiteinluv now mnoonygi nd there’s not a single tweet related to a s**cide attempt NOR is there any mention of a best friend taking over (which is a suspicious concept in itself.......why would a person’s main concern after nearly taking their life be RETWEETING ON A KPOP TW? do u think im dumb?) 

hi here’s proof that im following them 💖

nd obvs i can’t go thru nd screenshot everything they posted to prove my point but i went thru all the stuff btwn right now nd november 5th nd there’s not a single mention abt this acct changing hands or anything. most of the tweets taken from me nd my moots (from the other day at least) are gone but JUST two hours ago they were posting normally 

but im supposed to believe that this is the best friend? or are they back from the hospital already healed? really?

4. with all of this laid out i just wanna know what the fuck u want. like what are u getting out of this? i havent talked abt this person in damn near 24 hrs so why are u spreading LIES? nd if u are dynamiteinluv  why are so pressed heaux? bitch u are digging yourself into the most random hole. u couldve just privated nd moved on literally NO ONE is thinking abt u but now you’re trying to get pity nd getting exposed as a dumbass nd a liar. i have no idea who u are but bitch PLS get a hobby. get a hobby do your homework 😭😭😭😭😭

[mgkconfessions]

Your honest opinion what do you think about this relationship? Tbh I think it’s just very superficial in my eyes and I’m very shocked to see Colson change all of sudden and have his business all out there on social media, its almost as if he wants to show off and be like other celebrities who seek attention 🤔 idk what it is but they won’t last long.

We are definitely on the same page here. I don’t know how to start and end because I have so much to say about this like a whole analysis in my head of everything, but I try to keep it as short and informative as possible. So sorry in advance ^^

First of all social media doesn’t reflect the reality at all. Especially not when it comes to relationships. She can call him baby and comment heart emojis as much as she wants, but I will never believe that their relationship is anywhere close to a deep and strong bond how she (or they) want(s) to portray it. Here are my 3 main reasons why I don’t buy it:

(Disclaimer: Just my opinion, I don’t know them)

1. This relationship involves everything that he hates: Capitalization on a relationship and calling the paparazzi.

Only last year he said in an interview that he never publicized any of his relationships and then went on with “maybe I just should have, because I see everyone publicize relationships and just go [points fingers up like skyrocketing] but it just seems so weird to me... so I don’t know”. Then he reveals he dated this one singer and they were papped at super random unknown places, so he felt like asking if she’s one of those people who call the paparazzi on themselves. He just seemed very irritated and annoyed by it. Again this was only last year! This year he released Hotel Diablo and says on Death in My Pocket “I lose a piece of my soul when the camera flashes”. It’s in his interviews, it’s in his music, heck it’s probably in his DNA, he doesn’t like to publicize his relationships, because he thinks it’s weird to use it as an advantage for your career and I respect him so much for that!

And now to him and Schantelle (Sorry, I don’t want her to find this post when she searches her name on Tumblr). He has never been papped more often in such a short time before in his entire career than with her at the MOST RANDOM PLACES like picking up clothes from a store (never saw him papped in that situation before) and walking towards his car. Paparazzi know which places are popular among celebrities, but you can also call them to “catch” you somewhere. There’s specifically one paparazzo who seems to get all these Insta famous people that no one outside of Instagram cares about, which you can tell by comments under other websites asking who that is and why they are relevant. Schantelle is of course one of them. I obviously don’t know it for sure, but I can imagine her calling the paparazzi and honestly in those pictures she seems a lot happier and relaxed than Kells, who absolutely hates it. Even Slim commented under a picture that the reason why Kells looked so annoyed was allegedly the paparazzi. The problem is that she needs media attention and people talking about her to stay relevant, because let’s be honest, her music alone is not popular and good enough to do it on its own. It’s very generic and I don’t want to go into too much detail because of length, but she has a history of staying relevant by attaching herself on famous men and getting papped. She social climbs like no other ^^!

Also notice how at the moment she isn’t papped by that one paparazzo at all, whilst Kells is on Tour? Maybe it isn’t worth it then, I don’t know, or maybe she knows how to get the attention otherwise, which brings me to my next reason.

2. IDGAF I’d date myself: Trouble in paradise?

There was an incident where he posted on Insta, that he’d date himself and a picture with “take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night” showing a middle finger. Schantelle posted around the same time a screenshot indicating that she cried. Kells doesn’t strike me as a person who likes to subtweet, so I assume they did have at least one argument so far. Looking at her Twitter history, it doesn’t seem that rosy either all the time.

I don’t know if you noticed, but this is kinda their dynamic on social media platforms and I’m aware of how silly the following sounds, but you can watch every dating advice video and everyone will tell you the same. He likes and comments a lot more on her page than she ever did on his, which makes him always look like he’s so much more into her than she’s into him and maybe that’s also why he keeps coming back to her (at least online), because she gives him attention only enough to keep him wanting for more, but not too much, so he won’t get bored of her because she’s always available.

Might explain why the moment he publicly ignores her, because he likes an independent woman who doesn’t always need him and he’s kinda busy dealing with his own stuff, she posts sad tweets/ likes sad tweets/ films her feet/ posts “sexy” pics, Kells comes running back with tongue emoji and likes until he doesn’t publicly pay her attention again and the cycle continues. At this point it’s predictable and this back and forth is getting boring, because it’s the same thing again and again and again. Before anyone wants to attack me that none of her posts have to do anything with Kells, sure they don’t have to, but she’s been long enough in this game that she knows that this is exactly how you send subliminal messages and be shady so that other people will notice it and show interest.

Thank God social media doesn’t reflect the truth tho. Therefore she can call him “king” and post “i love you bb” and comment heart emojis as much as she wants, but this isn’t his thing and I highly doubt he likes it, because...

3. ily bb, my baby machinegunkelly: The failed publication of their relationship

When I look at how he used social media when he was dating someone in the past he always kept it very low-key. Sure he liked photos and might upload a picture too, but it was never a huge love declaration, if it even focused on the girl at all. And now comes Schantelle.

She tried to publicize their relationship first by using a PAPARAZZI picture of them in his car with him showing his middle fingers and smiling. He didn’t react at first, she looked stupid, then he reposted it only to delete it immediately, what made her look even more stupid and then finally decided to repost it for good without adding anything HOURS later. No comment, no emoji, no nothing. Seems like he was very unsure how to react and if he really wanted to post it. I don’t know about you, but if I were famous and in a relationship, I would have a conversation at some point if and how we would make our relationship official to the public. I don’t think they had that one, looks more like she just made that decision for him by posting the picture, because why would he have deleted it if their love was already so strong and real and they BOTH wanted to publicize it anyway? Hate and unhappy fans were to be expected, therefore I don’t think that was a reason. If you want to see his middle fingers as a “fuck you all, we’re dating” then it makes even less sense to delete it because of mean comments.

So why is he so open about her?

I just think it’s hard for him to be different (I don’t care how often he claims to not give a fuck, we all do at some point and he’s a sensitive person) and to stick to his different morals, when everyone around him, sometimes even younger ones in the same business, have no problem to normalize the capitalization on relationships and skyrocket their careers whilst not facing any major consequences for it on the surface. I think because Kells isn’t in a great mental state, he says so himself and his career progresses rather slowly and he doesn’t get the recognition he deserves, which can be frustrating at some point, he was like fuck it and maybe wanted to see how it is when you’re more open about it. Like dipping his toes into the water and she’s the perfect girl for that. I mean she literally got famous because she was seen with Justin Bieber, which is a whole other topic on itself.

In conclusion, I think that their relationship is superficial too, regardless of how many heart emojis she posts and pictures he likes. I agree with you that he changed in this regard and seems like he wants to show this relationship off. However I don’t think he’s standing 100% behind it being so public, because of the picture he reposted, deleted and reposted and he never seemed to publicize relationships (see his behaviour when he dated Josie) in the past before. This change doesn’t mean at all “she’s the one”. I believe it has more to do with him and his general situation, his career and mental health than any temporarily presented woman in his life. And of course they won’t last. I don’t know how long and at some point I won’t care anymore, but celebrity couples rarely stay together. Why would they be any different?

[millimim]

Hello! As most of you know, recently there have been posts regarding a translator profiting off eastern artists’ works through patreon and ko-fi. Although she was never attacked, harassed, or explicitly mentioned by the original post, user @seairu-kun (tumblr) / @seairu_ (twitter) spoke up and admitted that it was her doing. Her most recent posts showed that instead of a proper apology to the artists, she responded with a post that named several translators who were completely unrelated to the incident, for actions she believes justify her own but are not the same.

This is a direct response to @seairu-kun for her allegations against the named individuals translating Katsudeku fanart from eastern artists and to explain why her methods are harmful towards these artists. 

Before I respond to Seairu’s post, people will say “you should’ve messaged her personally” and I did (screenshots of this convo below).

the original ask message to Seairu: "Posting your translations privately is a good way to respect the artists' work, but posting them so only that people who pay you can read it is the opposite of respecting it... please create a private blog or something instead of using kofi and patreon to release privately, the artists get no revenue from what you're doing and exposure isn't a payment. having a kofi for tips or donations is perfectly fine, but translating a work doesn't make it yours, this money shouldn't be going to you."

1) “I didn’t realize providing my translations in private was a bad thing”

It isn’t, if it was a 1 unique translation to 1 unique commissioner for personal uses type of situation. She has been repeatedly charging people $3 on ko-fi for the same translated page. This means that she’s profited off the same translated page multiple times, which is different than charging 1 unique commissioner for 1 unique translation. In addition, Seairu asks for “donations” through ko-fi, but they are only donations in name. By withholding a product before a sum of money is given and charging “donors” (clients) for a “donation” (purchase), it becomes a TRANSACTION.

Translators such as shousanki, whom Seairu pointed out, minimize the damage done to artists by charging a unique commissioner once to cover the hours spent translating one unique doujinshi/comic and can scarcely be classified as a profit. This is more ethical than what Seairu has been doing, which is profiting off the same artist over the same artwork multiple times.

2) “...maybe have a talk with the other popular bakudeku translators in this fandom who post doujinshi on public sites like myreadingmanga while promoting their kofi links and zines?”

Shiku/shousanki (tumblr): “I don't know how Patreon works exactly, nor can I speak for other translators who use it, so I will only be clarifying how my own process goes. Generally when I take commissions it's for full-length doujinshi and inclusive of typesetting, cleaning, and editing services. Additionally, a large number of my commissions are private in that one client pays money for the completed product, along with exclusive rights to it, which means I won't redistribute it to anyone else. More commissions tend to be for original manga rather than doujinshi as well. In the case of public doujinshi translation, again, only one client-to-translator transaction occurs. I'd consider donations and commissions to be in entirely different leagues, too. Even if nobody donates money to my ko-fi, or nobody donates requesting a particular translation, whatever translations I have planned to post for free ends up posted eventually.”

Kat and Vivie/Revenge of the Dicku (MRM): “Hello, we’re very confused as to why we were brought up in the first place. We’ve never really interacted with seairu before; we’re not sure why she specifically named us when her argument seems to be pointing at any and all translators and we’re pretty new in the field. Not to mention, our situation is clearly very different because we give out all translations for free and never profit off of the original artist. As for our ko-fi, like most translators, we put up our link at the end of each doujin as a suggestion; it is meant to be on a purely donation-basis, aka we will NEVER withhold translations until someone gives us money. We produce translations, and if people wanna donate, it’s their choice. Moreover, these donations have and will be solely channelled to the production costs of the zine that we’re helming, so we essentially take no money out of this at all. Also, we’re not sure why our zine (AKOGARE) is implicated in this at all either. Either way, we do this so we can share with our friends so if people do not like what we do, then we will simply take everything down, it’s no loss for us. Thanks for listening.”

3) “I don’t understand how the fandom normalizes this and goes on reading scanlations of the BNHA manga every week, but turns around acting holier-than-thou while trying to ruin someone’s life in the process”

Scanlators (namely Fallen Angels and Mangastream) for BNHA offer their translations for free (you can choose to donate if you want), and do not charge readers $3 per translated page. The issue isn’t about reading things for free - the issue is about making (a lot of) money off somebody else’s hard work.

Asking for donations is completely fine as long as it’s optional. It is not okay to demand that people pay you for something that doesn’t belong to you. Yes, translation work is hard, and it is a service (many translators agree), but in the end, it is not the translator’s content. The hours they spend translating someone else’s words into another language are dwarfed in comparison to the hours of work the artist spends coming up with a plot, composing dialogue, lining, drawing and shading for a doujin; therefore, translators do not have the right to demand money from others for something that is not theirs. Translators may be approached for a commission and offered a one-time payment to compensate them for their time, but this situation is different since Seairu has been reselling the same set of translations to make a lot of money.

Below are pictures of Seairu’s ko-fi, Patreon, and posts about how she is offering to translate doujins and comics only if people become her patron or donate a ko-fi .

Note that it says “donate to [Seairu’s] patreon” but again, it CANNOT be called a donation because the doujins and comics are behind a paywall and money is demanded first. Most doujin artists charge 400-1200 YEN ($4-12) per doujin to primarily cover production costs IN ADDITION TO little comics they post for FREE on twitter and pixiv. Seairu has been charging people much more than the ORIGINAL CONTENT CREATORS and profiting off of that.

(In case people are unaware, Patreon works like a subscription sort of platform - you pledge a certain amount of money that corresponds to a tier, and you get content according to the tier you paid for. Effectively, you get multiple people paying for the same translation done by Seairu.)

4) “... but I’ve already taken down everything I could at the moment, and I sincerely apologize for my ignorance”

Ignorance seems unlikely since people have reached out to Seairu regarding this problem. They reached out to her in DMs to ask her politely to take them down, and she refused to acknowledge her wrongdoings, instead choosing to point fingers at other unrelated translators.

If this still doesn’t seem like a problem, below are screenshots of artists that Seairu’s profited off saying they’re not okay with their works being used for profit:

Hibarihiro: Original and Translated Conversation

Evidence of Seairu reselling the same translation multiple times through her ko-fi account.

Seairu has since deleted her translation posts for these artists’ works, but -

Shibaya:

Silverstar and Yutah:

Unfortunately, there hasn’t been a response from silverstar, but their bio says no reposts are allowed, and it’s even in English.

Yutah believed that people were just giving gifticons to Seairu as thanks for her translations; Yutah did not know that Seairu actually opened a Patreon to profit off of her works.

5) “... to support my translation work since [it’s] a hard job that takes up many hours of my day…”

Yes, translation does take a long time, so it really doesn’t make sense to implicate other translators who are doing this for fun or to get by. As stated in Seairu’s patreon, she hoped to make this a “full time job,” profiting off of the works of artists who are unhappy with her doing so.

Many of these artists are against reposting at all, and some allow it with permission but ONLY IF the reposters do not profit from them. Artists who don’t want people to repost their art, much less demand money for it, WILL NOT HESITATE to lock or delete their accounts, their art, and start mass blocking English speaking fans. It’s happened before. Some artists have already done this and will continue to do so. They will NOT hesitate to stop sharing their beautiful art and ideas with us because some people just can’t respect their wishes. There’s a reason why the western fandom has such a bad reputation amongst eastern artists and what Seairu is doing is just aggravating the situation. Not only that, but upon being faced with upset artists and facts, she decided to point fingers at unrelated translators, people who do such for a one time commission and later make it available for free, as well as translators who do it for free and have ko-fis as SUGGESTIONS only. Her “donations” are TRANSACTIONS for something that is not hers, and this is illegal.

Below is a link that talks deeper about translated commissions versus a paywall: http://dmmegsie.tumblr.com/post/171857295019/clarifying-commissionspaywalls-versus-donations

Overall commissioned translation for one person privately is fine. But when you create a paywall for multiple people to pay that's when damage is being done.

If possible, Seairu should refund the money or share profits with the artists. She has responded to messages on tumblr saying that she has apologized to the artists in question and it would be well received for her to post screenshots of these conversations.

None of the original posters used Seairu’s name, but many knew of these illegal actions. This is not a “witch hunt”, but note that no other translators were mentioned until Seairu herself brought them up with her own post (which is titled as an apology, but does not feel like one since she doesn’t post her apology to the artists). She continued to reblog posts mentioning the other translators while none of them have reblogged the post that contains Seairu’s name.

Please do not support these kinds of actions, whether that be illegally mass profiting off of other’s work or attempting to shift the blame onto others.

[notveryproductive]

Rules of Engagement: News Consumption, Discussion, and Sharing on Social Media

1. Read beyond the headline.

If a link is provided, click the link. If it’s just a screenshot of a headline and/or a section of the article out of context, Google the headline and find the source. Don’t be lazy.

You can usually get a decent “smell test” on an article by reading at least the first couple of paragraphs. I know not everyone has time to read every news story they scroll past on social media all the way through, but you can make the time for that much, I promise.

If something doesn’t seem right, Google the story and see if anyone else is reporting on it. If the article in question is the only one- or one of two or three sites- talking about the supposed event, chances are it’s fake. (Maybe not- maybe it’s a local story that hasn’t been picked up anywhere else! If it’s a local source, just make sure it passes your smell test and accept it cautiously if it seems legit.)

2. Evaluate the source.

Is it a publication that you know has an agenda one way or the other? (The National Review and Fox have conservative viewpoints, while the Huffington Post and MSNBC are more liberal, just as examples.) Even if they have a bias you happen to agree with, it’s important to be aware of that bias and take it into account while reading their content.

Is it a reputable source, one known for good journalism? The most prominent examples in my mind would be the Washington Post or Vox. You might have other sources you know and trust. Examples of.... less rigorous journalism would come from Buzzfeed (tends to be clickbaity, although they’ve gotten a little better in the last year or so) or Breitbart (slants the news to their agenda, up to and including making things up and running with internet conspiracy theories).

Is it a local source relevant to the event being reported on? Those tend to have a better handle on what’s going on than sources outside the area, which aren’t as directly affected and will tend to take their own spin on it rather than reporting objectively. That won’t always be true, but I think it’s a useful generalization. (As an aside- if you can, support your local newspaper! Small papers haven’t been doing well lately financially speaking, and a community without reputable journalism is a community in danger of being manipulated!)

Is it satire? The most well-known satirical sites are The Onion and Clickhole, which make no secret of not being real news, but there are others that may appear to be legitimate or at least earnest publications at first glance but are actually satire. If the article seems ridiculous, that’s an indicator that it was probably intended to be.

Not sure? Google it. If the site is big enough, Wikipedia will probably have an article about them, and you can usually find out within a paragraph or two whether they’re satire, politically slanted, or otherwise untrustworthy.

3. Consume comments with caution.

If someone is spreading misinformation or taking a slant that you now know isn’t supported by the content of the article, correct them using the evidence you have now collected. Keep it brief if you don’t have time to go in-depth with them, but the important thing is to correct them kindly. They may not even realize they’re doing anything wrong, and you won’t get anywhere if you take a smug attitude. lead by example.

If you notice a pattern from someone you follow of taking a particular slant on stories, try to take that into account when engaging with their content. If they’re spreading genuine misinformation, you might need to unfollow them to ensure you don’t promote their content. And if you notice anyone else consuming their posts uncritically, inform them of the problem.

Adhere to Rules 1 and 2, and don’t fall into the trap of reading the comments in lieu of the actual article. I’m guilty of this, too- it’s just easier oftentimes to look at Reddit or Tumblr commentary than to actually read the article. While comments can be an interesting supplement to the story, sometimes providing additional context, it’s usually just speculation and/or promoting agendas based on.... well, just the headline. Random anonymous users on the internet are no substitute for real journalism.

4. Share important and interesting stories.

Share from good, reliable sources that you trust. It’s okay if they have a political slant, as long as they’re still writing real news.

Provide the headline, at least the first one to three paragraphs, and a link to the article. Give your followers enough information to understand the story adequately if they don’t have time to click, but leave enough behind the link that they might want to click and maybe give the source some ad revenue or even subscribe to their site if that’s the model they’re using. If it’s good news, then it’s worth giving them actual exposure. Same principle as art- if you wouldn’t repost someone’s art without credit, then don’t post screenshots of headlines without the link. Journalists have to eat, too.

Less crucial, but for some stories it can be good to provide links to other sources in addition to the specific article you chose to promote. This shows your followers that you did your homework, and it gives them the opportunity to read up on the issue from multiple angles. It also demonstrates that it’s an important story worth paying attention to. This is mostly a rhetorical trick, but it does provide information to people, so it can’t hurt.

In summary: Stay curious. I know current events have been genuinely weird in the past year or so, but that doesn’t mean every weird thing you read is real. Exercise common sense. There are many fake and/or slanted news organizations vying for your attention- be vigilant and don’t let any one website or circle of websites dominate your media consumption. Social media should not be your only source of news. Sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr are tailored to your biases, and link aggregate sites like Reddit are prone to manipulation by determined groups. Personally I like to check Google News, although that can run into the same problem (after all, Google knows what I like to look at). The safest option is probably to go right to the sources- find a few publications you trust and bookmark their websites, make a habit of checking them every morning. Don’t get too reliant on them either, but a healthy media breakfast will help reduce the risks of social media junkfood.

Be vigilant, and always be inquisitive. Resist manipulation.

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A (5)

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

This is the translation from page 52 to page 62 of 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. 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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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 series of pictures float in and out of my mind.

A coffee shop. A blue rain leaving water droplets on the glass of the store. A novel with only the first and the middle volume.

Regret. Blood patterns on the wall.

“There is no mercy in this world.”

That is the voice of the younger me.

That’s right. No-one can forgive themselves. I will not forgive myself either.

Last volume of the novel.

“Writing novels is writing people.”

The man with the mustache. There is a ring of truth in his voice. Or perhaps I just want to believe that.

To answer that question, I have set my foot on a long track.

One day in a room with a view of the ocean, I will walk to my desk and…

When I wake up, I can’t tell where I am right away.

There is a wall in front of me. A bare concrete wall. A dark and damp wall, with black marks of water dripping, staining the color of the material. I can see nothing else. Even if I turn my head around, all I can see is that wall. I cannot turn my body.

I am being tied to a chair.

“Before we start, let me tell you this.” There is a voice behind my back. I have heard this voice before. “I don’t like violence.”

I remember whose voice that is. That is the older cop who came to my house.

“I don’t like it when people use violence. I don’t like to use it either. So just think about this as business.”

Sound of something cutting through the wind.

An intense pain gouges into my back the very next moment. My skin tears off, my bones crack.

Something hard has struck my back. A baton, a gun grip, or probably a blackjack.

The attacker is still out of my sight. There is only pain that shoots through my nerves and pierces into my brain.

“It works, right?” the guy starts speaking. His voice is soft, as if he is lecturing a kid. “I went easy on you. I know very well how much pain one can tolerate, and at what point it will become unbearable. I have wielded this for decades.”

“There are still things you don’t know.” I say.

The man’s voice goes silent for a second, then he speaks in a hard voice. “What?”

“You don’t know how to torture.” I say. “If you are going to hurt your victim, you have to ask questions first. What’s the point of hurting them before you ask? You’re just tiring both of us out.”

I can sense a snort of laughter.

Following that is another blow, this time close to my neck. A flash bounces through my entire body. Starting from my neck, the pain feels as if every single nerve in my body is being pulled out. This one is stronger than the last.

“You are right, young man. This is not a textbook interrogation.” says the voice behind my back. “But there are times when everything should be done according to the textbook, and there are times when it should not. I know that much. This is just a preparation for you to open your mouth more smoothly later. So, rest assured.”

“Good to know.” I say, keeping my eyes on the wall. “So let’s get back to the main point… If it’s about those counterfeit notes, I know absolutely nothing.”

The notes that Dazai was carrying. The source of all this. The huge bomb that Dazai, the messenger of calamity, has brought in.

It is not a surprise that such perfect notes can get intelligent agencies of other countries involved.

However, the guy’s reaction after that betrays all of my expectations.

“… counterfeit notes?”

That voice with a question mark attached to it floats unreliably and fluffily in the air, before it unravels and disappears.

My instinct tells me that it is a voice of perplexity.

“You don’t know about the fake money?” I ask. “Isn’t that what you are after, the counterfeit money and Dazai?” “That friend of yours is called Dazai? Who is he?”

I am going to say Port Mafia, but I shallow the words back in my throat. I should not tell them about Dazai’s identity if the money is not what they are after.

“There seems to be some misunderstandings here. I should clear that up first. We are here for you.”

“What?”

“Where’s the painting?”

The guy asks in a hard, commanding tone. I quietly think about what he means, then I answer.

“What do you mean by “painting”?”

“You know what it is.”

His voice is assertive and solemn, the voice of someone pushing another off a cliff.

“You guys stole a painting from a house you visited on business a long time ago. We are looking for it.”

“I have not a single idea what you are talking about.” I say. “Are you sure you are not mistaking me for someone else?”

Before I can finish my sentence, another blow comes down. This time on my shoulder. I can feel my veins breaking. Every part of my body from my neck down to my fingertips become numb.

“I’m not. We don’t make mistakes like that.” The guy’s voice is preserving, as if he is suppressing the emotions with his will power. “You were a member of that organization. Those cold-blooded guys who take money and kill in return. I don’t know what kind of thing you did in there, but I guess you were probably just a treasurer or a liaison. Because you are only a postman with no presence now. However, that organization itself was a big shot. You can even call it a legend. Before it suddenly disbanded and vanished seven years ago, it was a synonym of “fear” in “that” side of the world. We searched for the organization and somehow ended up finding only you. The other members have completely disappeared, as if they never existed in the first place.”

“I don’t want to talk about that organization.” I say.

“You will, young man. You will soon, whether you want to or not.”

I can hear the plonk of the club behind my back as he plays with it in his hands. “That painting is worth 500 million yen. One billion if you are lucky. If you need it, we can even give you a share. You won’t be able to handle it anyway.”

“You are making a mistake.” I say quietly. “It’s true that I know about said organization. I was a member of it for a while. But I don’t know about that painting. Not a little bit.”

“If you don’t know anything about it, is it possible that other members have hidden the painting?”

“Very likely so.”

The man sighs. His voice after that sounds five years older. “It’s always like this. We walk around like hungry stray dogs, following the scent of food and sticking our noses to the ground. And when we think we have finally got there, the food has long been trucked off to another place. We again, twitch our noses and chase after the smell of the truck through the dry wilderness. Again and again.”

“I am sorry for that.” I say.

In fact, it is half true when I say that. After all, they have kidnapped Dazai, just because he happens to be with me. Dazai is not a person you should treat like an add-on for your mail-order stuff. Not in any sense. He is a Port Mafioso, and as I imagine, a very important one at that. It is too late to do anything, now that they have already kidnapped him. Even if they wash him clean, mend his clothes, and return him sparkling new respectfully with their heads low, Port Mafia will not forgive that. They will use an electric excavator to level flat the back of the heads of those who are kneeling on the ground begging for forgiveness.

Therefore, the doom for these kidnappers is already decided. The question now is whether Dazai and I will be doomed too.

I cannot talk about Port Mafia. That is no good. If they know that Dazai is a Port Mafioso, these guys will literally shrivel up. They will curse their own stupidity and try to cover it up with yet another stupidity. In other words, they will bury the two of us under deep concrete, and use the little time they have before being found out to escape to the other side of the world. There is no other way.

That is why I have to keep Dazai as my “mysterious friend”.

“Now that you have all the information you need to tell the story.” The man speaks in a chilly voice, “All you have to do is to chirp beautifully. If you need a little help there, I don’t mind giving it my best to assist.”

He sounds somewhat happy. I can hear him slamming the club into his own hand. At this rate, I will be the one who has his bones crushed. (TN: There is a play of words here. The cop is using the expression 粉骨砕身, to say that he will try his best, but the kanji translated directly to “crushed bones and smashed flesh”, so Oda is using the same wording to talk about his own situation right now.)

“What if I don’t talk?” I ask.

“You will regret it. Like a criminal who just receives a warrant, wishing that he would have sung honestly when he was asked to come voluntarily earlier.”

He is about to say something else, but his radio rings before he can.

“What’s up?” he picks up the radio. I cannot hear what they are saying, but I can sense the urgency in his tone. “Got it. I’ll be right there. Handcuff them.”

He hangs up, his footsteps getting farther away. After walking a few steps, the man says from a distance. “I will give you some time to think about it. No one is coming to help you. This is an evacuation bunker built during the old war. It’s time to make a choice. You can become rich, or become a corpse for the rats to feast on. I hope you make the right decision for everyone to be happy.”

***

Dazai returns to the cell when I have just finished checking the shape of the fingernails on my two cuffed hands for the fiftieth time.

“Hey, it’s been a while.” Dazai says with an indistinct smile that is not at the very least different from before he was kidnapped.

I look at Dazai and ask, “You were not tortured?”

“Torture? Ah! So that was torture?” Dazai says, somewhat cheerful. “I was tied up and surrounded by two guys. But they left before doing anything. They were dragged away by their friends. I just told them something useful, and they started crying and hitting each other, saying they didn’t want to die.”

“I see. What did you tell them?”

“I can tell you… But do you really want to know?” Dazai smiles like a sea monster from the underworld.

I give it a little thought and say, “I will pass.”

It is a temporary cell used to keep the prisoners in the war. Originally, it must have been a simple nap room inside the bunker to protect yourself from air strikes and such. The room is about the size of a hotel room, with only a rusty bed frame fixed to the end. The entrance door has been replaced by an iron door with fresh welding marks, and there is a thick chain used for boat anchoring and a huge lock hanging from the doorknob. A number of black power lines are wrapped around the hooks lining up on the wall, leading to the murky cage lamp at the back of the room. That is the only light source. There is no air conditioning, so the air in the room is unclean.

“What do you think they are?” I ask.

“A criminal organization.” Dazai speaks nonchalantly, jingling his own handcuffs.

“But they are different from big settings like Port Mafia. Just a small group that will vanish with just a blow. However, its origin is a little interesting. Have you ever heard about an organization called “48”?”

I shake my head after giving it some thoughts, “No.”

“This is actually my first time meeting them too. They are harder to spot than any other criminal organization. It is almost impossible. Even if a great purge is to happen and this Yokohama turns into a clean paradise, they will still survive and continue to commit crimes. It is because they are an organization made up entirely of former cops.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Officers from local stations, special forces members who were dishonorably discharged. Corrupted cops released from prison after their arrests. Police of external affairs who are on the list of distrusted agents. This is a small but robust labyrinth organization built by police personnel who, for various reasons, have fallen from the tower of public servants through utilizing the skills, connections, and knowledge from their former jobs. There are a lot of theories about the name “48” but the most popular one is that it’s because the police have to refer a case to the public prosecutor within forty eight hours of arrest.

“That means the cops who came to our house were fake, but they used to be real cops too?” I say while recalling my memory. “But how do you know?”

“You couldn’t tell? Their gestures somehow revealed their past history, and every word they say is mixed with the terms used when they were still in the police.”

I track my memory.

Now that he mentions it, the guy who tortured me said this before he left, “You will regret it. Like a criminal who just receives a warrant, wishing that he would have sung honestly when he was asked to come voluntarily earlier.” He used a police shorthand to refer to “voluntary accompaniment”, and “sing” is a term used by the police for “confess”. I guess they just use the words that they are familiar with when talking to their friends.

“What they are good at is blackmailing people using the connections from their former jobs, diverting seized goods to sell on black market, and leaking inside information about the police. They are the fallen ex-heroes. Although the scale of their activities is small, many of them have received real trainings, thus are formidable. There are many criminal organizations in Yokohama, but this “48” is hated by both the police and other organizations.”

“You sure know a lot.”

“Not really. Unfortunately, I don’t know what they are up to.” Dazai says as he leans against the wall. “They said they were looking for a painting. Do you have any idea?”

I look at Dazai, then I say. “No.”

Dazai looks at me. Those eyes are like the bottomless see at night. Dark, cruel, quiet, endlessly sucking people in and never letting go.

Those eyes are looking at every corner of my expression. I feel like my each and every single cell is being observed.

I wonder how long we stay silent like that. Suddenly, Dazai opens his mouth and speaks in a serious tone.

“You do have a hint, don’t you?”

I let my gaze wander through the air, then look at a scenery of the past that is not here. I want a cigarette so bad. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” I say, sitting down next to Dazai. “No matter what those guys say, that painting is no longer in anyone’s hand. It is in a place that it will never be moved from. That painting is not going anywhere, at least not during my lifetime.”

“Why?”

“Because I decided so.”

Dazai tries to say something, but he stops. Then he lets his gaze wander somewhere else, as if he is looking for an answer.

“Got it”, Dazai says, looking forward. “Then let’s end this conversation here and talk about what we are going to do next.”

I find it strange that Dazai retreated so meekly. If he can make me spill out the whereabout of the painting, Dazai can get out of here without a scratch. But Dazai’s eyes are quiet, inside them is a gentle indifference of someone who has already made up his mind. I cannot tell the reason though.

“So, what are we doing next?”

“Jailbreak.” I assert. “I have no reason to stay in this kind of place anymore.”

“That is a good idea.” Dazai says, holding up his two hands. “But how?”

We are both handcuffed. These handcuffs are not toys or replicas, they are the real things used by the cops. On top of it, there is a lock on the entrance too. I saw the guy who brought Dazai here just now locking the door. There is no mistaking it.

“I have something that can get us out of here.” I say. “But there is also one thing that I can’t do anything about. Reason.”

“Reason?”

”You don’t want to escape, do you?”

Dazai looks at me with a puzzled look on his face. Then he says, “Are you going to help me?”

“I thought I would, but you have no reasons to do so. No reasons to accompany me and get out of here.”

Dazai looks around. “You are right. I can still kill myself if I stay here. So never mind me. Just escape by yourse…”

“I will take you with me even if I have to put a rope on your neck.”

Dazai looks at me, surprised.

“You… Are you actually a pushy guy?”

“When it comes to things that I have decided to do.” I say, focusing my attention on the signs outside. There seems to be no one on the other side of the door.

“What makes you do this?”

“I don’t like these guys.”

I say decisively. Dazai makes a surprised face again. “48? Why? Because they used to be cops? Or because they are aiming for the painting?

“Things like that.” I answer briefly, ending the conversation. “Dazai, if I ask, will you come with me?”

“Well, I wonder. I’m not that kind of nice guy who listen to others’ requests that easily. Everyone has a hard time getting me to do anything. What can you offer?”

I have to admit, those words are out of my expectation.

“You think that I can give you what you want?”

“I don’t know.” Dazai smiles as if he has given up. “I really don’t know. I have never met anyone like you before. That’s why I’m asking you.”

I start thinking.

I have a hint of what Dazai is looking for. But I don’t have it on hand to give it to him.

However…

_The only thing I want now, is death._

_Why do we have to die?_

“Dazai”, I say. “As soon as we get out of here, let’s go to “that place”. Right away. It’s not that far away.”

Dazai’s eyes are wide open. “You say “that place”? That you-are-a-fool-if-you-don’t-go-before-you-die place?”

“Yes.”

Dazai blinks and looks at me. I look straight back into his eyes.

I am not sure why but it reminds me of something from a long time ago. From when I was a boy.

“Dazai… You are right. There is no good or bad in wanting to die. Because there seems to be many important things in this world, but in reality, there is nothing that important. Life and death don’t even matter at all. The place we are going to is probably not going to live up to your expectations. Maybe you will find only rocks, scraps of paper, and things of such value there.”

Dazai stares blankly at me, as if he cannot believe what is happening in front of his eyes.

I look at the palm of my hand. I touch it with my finger, feeling the sensation. I touch a few more places, as a mean to buy time, until I finally say the last words.

“But what if it is different?”

Silence.

I have never tried to get this close to anyone’s heart before. I don’t feel like I did it well. But strangely enough, I do not regret it that much. Even if I don’t say it here and now, I will probably say it to Dazai somewhere sometime in the future. I feel that.

Dazai does not say anything. He just sighs, and looks into a distance with his arms crossed behind his head, as if he is considering. The chain clanks. “I too, have been caught by a person who says pretty foolish things.” Then he turns to the side to hide his expression and glances at me sideways. “Secret place, right…? If you have asked that much, it’s not like I can’t go with you.”

I lift my eyebrows, “You are not being honest.”

“It’s not that! It’s not that I’m not honest or anything! It’s not like I… expect that much!”

I scratch my head. “Then let’s do it this way. If you die here, I will build a tomb for you. And your tombstone will read, “Here lies Dazai, the man who never beats Oda Sakunosuke at poker.”

Dazai looks at me dumbfounded. Then he opens his mouth wide and says. “Th.. that’s not good! Alright! It cannot be helped then. Let’s break out of this prison.”

Dazai stands up, holds up his hand and snaps his fingers.

The handcuffs, which are supposed to be tightly fastened, fall off smoothly like a magic trick.

“You took them off from the beginning, didn’t you?”

“A little bit, with the metal wire I found over there.”

“Will that work on the door lock too?”

“Of course.” Dazai says as if it is nothing. Then he suddenly realizes something and turns to me. “No way… when you said you had something that can get us out of here, you were talking about me with this?”

I shrug, “After nursing you for a few days, the chains that bound your legs to the bed was stealthily unlocked. It seems like they have been stacked up to deceive me though.”

“What? I have been found out? How boring.” Dazai pouts.

Dazai takes my handcuffs, sticks the tiny wire inside the keyhole and starts turning it. Immediately, there is a dry metallic sound as the internal mechanism disengages. The handcuffs drop to my feet.

“How long has it been, I wonder? To have somewhere I want to go.” Dazai smiles as he rubs his wrists. “I have a feeling that even if there is nothing at that place, it will be fine as it is. Come on, let’s get out of here quickly and get some good fresh air.”

….

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side B (Final)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

This is the translation of the last part (from page 48 to 63) 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 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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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!

...

I killed that wealthy man, simply because it was a mission. I didn’t know why I was killing him, nor what kind of person he was. I just aimed for his head and pulled the trigger. That was it.

It seemed that the client who ordered the assassination was targeting that painting. I did not find out about it until much later. My job was only to kill the man. Carrying the painting out and cleaning up the aftermath was another professional’s job. They did their job. I did my job. And on my way back after the mission, I casually had my eye on a novel on the desk, so I took it and left the house.

It always starts with the little things.

That novel triggered a lot of things, and I eventually stopped killing. I have not killed a single person since then.

One day about two years after that day, I suddenly came up with an idea that I should go back and return that novel. There was no big reason for it. It was not out of sense of morality or guilt. It was simply because I thought if I did that, I would be able to face that novel directly. I already had another copy of the book that I bought by myself.

In the mansion that was once owed by the wealthy man lived a son of his. He was seventeen years old. I later heard that he was not his real son, but a boy who had lost his parents in an underworld conflict, that the man took in. An orphan.

I must have been out of my mind at that time. To think I would go and meet that son of his. I could have just sneaked into the house, put the book there and left, and it would have been as easy as bending a finger for me. But anyway, I ended up standing in front of the son and introducing myself. As “the person who killed your father.”

There was no word that could describe how angry the son was. He had all the rights to be angry. His family was killed by the underworld, twice. He was hitting me, throwing stuff at me, and attacking me with all sorts of insults. I could easily dodge all of his attacks, but there was no way to avoid the insults.

When he became exhausted from all the rampage and finally sat down, I explained to him about the killing. After that, he demanded a compensation. For his father’s life, and for the rental fee of that book I took without permission.

Bring that painting back, he said.

There was no reason for me to accept that request. First, I didn’t know where the painting was then. It must have been bought by yet another wealthy person far across the sea. I could find some clues if I looked, but that would mean a long, tedious and unprofitable job on top of that.

If it had not been for the book, I would not have accepted it.

As it turned out, my guess was correct. It was a long, tedious and unprofitable job. To add to that, it was a dangerous job. I had to get into a private military company (PMC) of nearly one hundred and fifty armed soldiers and carry the painting out under a rain of bullets, without killing anyone. If I were asked to do it again, I would absolutely refuse. Most of the troubles in my life were brought upon me by myself.

Standing in front of the painting that I brought back, the son of the wealthy man just looked at it in silence. After about thirty minutes, he started talking, little by little. About the reason he wanted the painting back. And how that painting was the object of a bet.

His father wanted his son to become a businessman that would surpass himself. So, he made a promise that if the son could make ten million yen by the time he turned eighteen, he would give him that painting.

“Stupid parents”, he said. In the first place, it was a dirty painting that had been obtained through illegal means. Did he really think that the son would try that hard to get his hand on such a thing?

But the son did try very hard. He managed to earn almost 80% of that ten million by himself. He did not try that hard because he wanted the painting, he said.

There was one year left till the promised eighteen.

That young man asked me to keep that painting for him until then.

The painting had a setup. It had been written on, by a special type of paint that would become visible when exposed to ultraviolet rays. The text covered an aera of about a quarter of the painting. And it said,

“You are my pride.”

If all the art lovers over the world saw that, they would just faint in anger. This kind of graffiti just blew away the whole five million yen worth of the painting. The man caused troubles even after his death. But perhaps, that wealthy man did it exactly because it was trouble.

He probably wanted to say that he wouldn’t care even if the painting’s value was to be reduced to zero, because his son was worth all that much. Or maybe that was why he went through the trouble of buying that painting illegally. Of course, the truth stayed unknown until now.

Because I killed the father.

I kept the painting as requested. I put it in a storage box and stored it in a dark, cool and windy place.

It is under the floor of my house, near the foot of my bed.

It is a painting that no longer has any artistic value. There is no point in preserving it with care.However, it has value to that young man. The son whose father was killed. That painting is the memento of his father, the will of his father, and in a sense, his father himself.

I am still protecting it now.

It is not to atone for my sin. I am not that kind of an admirable person. It is just because a lot of things piled up, that I decided to do so.

“And once I have made up my mind, I am not going to change it, no matter who asks me to.” I say as I walk toward the cop. “Got it? Bandaged man?”

“What?”

Before the cop can react, I quickly snatch the gun from his hand. The cop, whose arms have been injured and cannot even stand up, do not have the strength to steal it back. I bring the gun close to my face and say.

“This is not a gun.” I say. “This is a listening device. You are listening to us over there, right? You have anticipated this and created a situation for me to tell where the painting is, and tried to eavesdrop through this gun.”

“This gun … listening device?” The cop was stunned. So he did not know either.

“I found it odd from the beginning. That this was an automatic gun.” I say as I observe the gun. “When they stormed into my house, they were carrying the revolvers used by the city police. This is a different kind. Perhaps, this automatic pistol was the one you used when you threatened this guy? One more thing, if you want to threaten me, basically, you will have to come to me directly. But all I can see here are injured people. So, this is what I came up with: you, in order to find out where the painting is without showing up here, have created a situation for this cop to threaten me. If that is the case, then there must be a listening device somewhere.”

Of course, the gun does not answer me. It is just there, cold, heavy and quiet. But just by being there, that gun is radiating its unique presence to the surroundings. I continue to talk to the gun.

“This is loaded. But I guess it is just a blank, right?” I point the gun at the ceiling and fire a single shot. It makes an explosive sound and a flash of light cut through the darkness. But that is it. There is no bullet hole on the ceiling.

“That was quite a performance. Did you calculate everything up to this point, and collapse in front of my house on purpose? If so, that was impressive. Now, I have told you everything about the painting. Break the siege as you promised. Or you can let everyone in here and we can have a fun killing party. I am fine either way.”

As I am speaking, I check the gun more closely. Originally, it is my tool of trade. I know the balance of the weight like I know my fingers. The grip is a little heavy. I press the button to release the magazine, it drops into my hand. In the area near the grip screw, the polymer plastic material on the side of the magazine has been removed and a black rectangle part was embedded in it. That is the listening device.

I hold up the magazine like a microphone, and talk into the device. “Within ten seconds, you will make three blasts. After that, you will disappear immediately. If you don’t, I will consider that our negotiation has failed and I will come get you from here.”

I throw away the device and count to ten inside my head. Between eight and nine, a series of shocks shake up the underground basement. Exactly three times. The blasts sound like thunders from afar, and then the sound suddenly stops as if it has been chopped off. All that is left is silence. A silence that makes my ears ache.

“It is over.” I take a breath and walk away. “I will call the cops once I get out. The real ones, you know. All of you will be arrested, but at least you will be treated a little better. Compared to the Mafia.”

“Wa… wait a minute.” The cop says with a hard voice. “You…. Why? You said yourself that you alone could get away with this. You even knew that the gun I pointed at you couldn’t be used? Could it be that… you… you saved me? For what?”

The answer to that question is simple. But I don’t want to answer him. What is the point of answering anyway? I feel empty. I am tired, wounded, betrayed by people, and betraying people.”

“I am thirsty.” I say to myself. “I’m going home.”

The guy says something but I don’t hear it. I keep walking out of that place.

***

The light from the gas lamp illuminates the profiles of people walking through the ticket gate.

The blue stars of the city, of which there are only a few, are scattered in the night sky like a film.

The station is surrounded by the night sky, the night scenery, and a group of people walking home in silence. There is no explosion, no gun shot, no bargaining for your life here. It is the plain scene of the closing of a day like every day, which starts mechanically and ends mechanically.

Dazai Osamu and Oda Sakunosuke are there at that same station. In different places.

Oda is exhausted. Covering his aching back, he walks among the crowd rushing out of that station.

Dazai stands in the darkness, away from the street lights of the station front, watching Oda as he becomes one with the night.

Oda walks along the station platform, out of the ticket gate, and stesp into the night of the city. After getting out of the underground bunker, he crossed the mountain and walked over to a nearby village. He negotiated with the farmers there for them to give him a ride. He then got on buses and trains one after another, back to the nearest station to his home. When he arrives, it has become completely dark.

Oda rubs his own shoulders, and walks home with an exhausted face as he cracks his neck. His clothes are wrinkled and covered in mud. Sometimes, people passing by Oda look at him as if they are looking at a strange, foreign creature. But no one calls out to him. People in the city just don’t do that.

Oda gets through the ticket gate and walks under the street lights, as he takes out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth. Then he starts searching for something in his jacket. He is looking for a fire.

“Here you go.”

Suddenly, a voice comes from behind him. Oda turns around. In front of his eyes, there is a light from a match. And a hand holding it.

Oda is caught by surprise for a second, but he immediately places the cigarette in his mouth on that. He closes his eyes, breathes in the smoke, and breathes it out into the dark night. Then he looks at the person.

“Hi. What a look you’ve got there. Are you okay?”

That is Dazai.

Dazai, who has half melted into the dark, is standing there silently, smiling a smile that does not look like one.

“Nothing.” Oda says so as he looks at the other person through the smoke. “I just tripped.”

“This matchbox is yours, isn’t? I saw you drop it at the ticket gate.”

Oda looks at the matchbox Dazai is holding. It is black on the sides, white on top, and has a logo of a bar in front. It is clearly the one that Oda always carry with him.

“Yes.” Oda says, looking at the matchbox.

Then he observes the man. He stays silent for a few seconds before asking with a blank expression.

“Have I met you anywhere?”

Dazai smiles a smile of no personality. “No. This is the first time we met.”

The bandages that have covered most of Dazai’s face the whole time are no longer there. He is wearing a flat cap to cover his eyes, and a black inverness coat to hide his shape and his wounds. As for the voice, Oda has not heard Dazai speak even once.

“Is that so?” Oda says as he takes the matchbox from Dazai and turns his back on him. “Thanks for the match. Good night then.”

Oda is just taking a few steps when Dazai calls out to him from behind.

“Looks like you got into quite a bit of trouble.”

Oda stops and slowly turns around. “What?”

“Just… You seem so worn out. Your face looks so bad… Also, that thing on your hand and clothes, I can’t see very well in the dark, but it’s not just dirt. There is blood too, right?”

Oda looks at his own hands. It is true that there is still some blood from when he tried to help the injured cop on his wrists.

“Well, there was a bit of a situation.” Oda says, checking the smell on his hands. “It is not my blood. But it’s true that I got into some trouble. I got something important taken from me. Something I have always protected.”

“If it has been taken”, Dazai smiles helplessly, “then at least you don’t have to worry about it being taken anymore.”

Oda looks at the other for a while. As if he is trying to look for an answer there.

“Probably.” Oda says. “I can’t forgive the guy who took it, though.”

Dazai slowly nods. Trying to hide his expression.

Oda watches his expression for a moment but he finally turns away. “Thanks for the match. That was a big help. Bye then.”

Dazai looks at the back walking away from him and speaks quickly. “If you ever get into trouble in the future…”

Oda turns around, “Huh?”

“You can turn to The Armed Detective Agency in Yokohama for help. They will take on even the troublesome stuff. And they will get the job done without fail. I was helped by them in the past, too.”

“I see.” Oda says after he gives it a moment of thought. “I’ll do so then. That is very kind of you. You are a good guy.”

Dazai’s expression becomes distorted.

He opens his mouth, and closes it again, as if he can no longer breathe.

If he tells him everything now, maybe things will go back to how they were. The two of them will go to the bar together and have a toast. Just like that night.

“Odasa…”

Just as Dazai is about to say that name, a train passes by. The express train passing through that station cuts through the silence of the night, right next to where Dazai and Oda is.

The darkness and the light alternatively hit the road, and the roar of the steel blows away the silence of the whole surrounding. Oda narrows his eyes.

The train is long, and the sound it makes sounds like an extended sorrow. Dazai looks down so that no one can see him, his face twisted in grief. It is as if that long roar is promising him six long years of heartlessness to come.

The train finally passes through.

Oda looks around, trying to get what the other was saying again.

There is nobody there anymore.

Oda blinks his eyes, feeling confused. He looks around. Then he shakes his head as if to shake off all the thoughts, and walks away with a resigned expression.

Only the cold and quiet night breeze is left blowing through the space where no one remains, trying to fill up the emptiness.

Nobody says a word. The painting is kept by the Port Mafia for a year, before it is returned to its owner, the son of the wealthy man.

The son keeps it for a few years, and later donates it to a museum anonymously.

That way, Dazai has achieved his goal. Getting Oda to tell him where the painting is without facing him, nor having his face remembered. And by doing that, Oda will never be targeted by a criminal organization again. That is Dazai’s goal.

He has another goal.

To make Oda despise the Port Mafia. So that he will not join the Port Mafia, thus avoiding his coming death.

That goal is accomplished. Oda becomes involved with not the Port Mafia but the Armed Detective Agency, and joins the Agency two years later.

And then two years after that, Oda meets Dazai again one more time.

At the bar counter, in the sad melody of a parting song.

That is where Oda points his gun at Dazai, and Dazai says the last goodbye.

The last goodbye of his life.

The Day I Picked Up Dazai – Side Beast <The END>

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side B (1)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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.

...

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A (4)

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

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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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.

I pass out.

...

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side B (3)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

This is the translation from page 19 to page 35 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 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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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!

...

That young former cop has no idea what has happened to him.

He was abducted while he was patrolling the underground bunker, but he only realized that he has been abducted much later, when he found himself in the dark, unable to move a muscle.

He is sitting. On a piece of concrete at the foot of a pile of debris, like a prisoner. He just woke up and cannot understand what condition he is in. However, even before his brain wakes up, he is clearly aware of one thing. Pain.

His body is in pain. A heavy, sharp pain is rushing through his whole body like an unpleasant signal, making his skin tingle. But he can’t tell where the pain is from. More than half of his brain is still buried in a muddy coma.

This is an abandoned section in the depth of the underground bunker.

About ten years ago, there was an explosion of an oxygen cylinder used for emergency rescue here, and it has been in half-collapsed state ever since.

There are gaps crawling like living creatures on the wall and the ceiling, and countless debris piling up. The debris comes in different sizes, from the size of a fist to the size of a car. And the steel wires used as foundation material are poking out from the gaps like wild plants.

He is sitting at the end of a dimly lit tunnel, in a narrow passage blocked by debris. On top of the debris that is just the height of a chair. Or rather, he has been sat there.

He cannot move on his own.

Because his hands and feet have been fixed. His two hands are sandwiched between large pieces of debris. From the elbows up, they are tightly pinned by the debris that looks like a mouth closing. The debris is not heavy enough to crush his arms right now, but it is not light enough for him pull his arms out by himself.

“This… is…”

His voice is cracking in despair.

Because he saw his feet.

Two big stakes are piercing through the insteps of his feet, into the floor.

They are old construction wooden stakes. They have the thickness of a thumb, old and rusty. They are piercing through his leather shoes, his skin, his flesh, his soles and finally into the floor. Fresh blood is still there, spreading in circle on the ground.

Someone has stitched his feet to the floor with those stakes. For what?

“You are feeling the pain.”

A cracked voice comes from the darkness.

The young cop turns to the voice with a frightened face.

“Pain is good. Pain is proof that you are alive. There are even better things. As the pain gets stronger, it can control us, change the way we think, and sometimes even blow away our personality. Do you know why that is a good thing, Toda Akihiko-kun?”

The voice is intimidating, assertive, and filled with raw danger like a bleeding wound. It is high-pitched as that of a young boy, but it lacks the human-like characteristics a young boy should have.

The man in the shadow. That is Dazai.

“It is because it continues to show us that our personality, our soul, is nothing but a convenient and unstable hypothesis based on primitive instincts such as pain and fear.”

Dazai smiles thinly. Most of his face is covered in bandages, so that smile can only be seen through his slightly narrowed eyes and his mouth, which is distorted and white like the shape of a shamshir.

“You are… the injured person… at the house…” The cop named Toda speaks in a wheezing tone, as a person with a faint consciousness would do. “How do you… know my name?”

“I know almost everything.” Dazai says in a gentle, soothing voice as he approaches Toda. “You are a member of the criminal organization “48”. You used to be a local police officer, but you joined the organization after being invited by a former senior at work. You live near the lower reaches of the Tsurumi river, under the overhead lines. Your parents and sister run a brewery in Shinshu. You do not put the money you earn here into a bank account, but hide it inside a safe at a dumping site. That is wise.”

“Wha..”

Dazai speaks with cold eyes, looking down at the pale cop.

“No need to worry. I am not interested in hurting you. Now tell me what you know about the “painting”, everything.”

“What… painting? Who the hell are you? How do you know my nam…”

“Wrong answer.”

Dazai interrupts the guy and kicks him the leg, as if he does not give a damn. That is a light movement, like rolling a pebble with your toes, but it makes the cop throw his head backward and scream.

“Gyaaaaaahhhh!”

The stakes piercing through his foot shake his bones and nerves when he is kicked, and send the pain throughout his whole body.

“Honestly speaking, I don’t really want to talk to you either. So, I have to ask you to refrain from unnecessary talk. Just talk about the “painting”. How do you know that Odasaku has it? How do you even know that the painting is valuable in the first place?”

“I…” the cop’s face becomes distorted. That is the face of someone whose pain is accumulating and running all over his body.

“I don’t … know.”

“Oh?” Dazai lifts his eyebrows. However, other than that, his expression is completely flat and calm.

“That’s the truth! I just joined so I know almost nothing! I only know that the guy named Oda is hiding a painting that’s worth hundred millions of yens!”

“Toda-kun.” Dazai walks up to the cop then places his hand on a piece of debris. “This is the hideout of your organization. It means that there are many of your “replacements” here. If you think that you can save yourself by convincing me that you know nothing, you have made a mistake. I won’t feel, nor care at all if the like of you dies.”

The cop can feel cold sweat squirting from his whole body. This young man is not lying. It shows in his eyes. That this young man is only seeing him as a fly in his kitchen.

“I saw you guys’ torture earlier. I am a little relieved.” Dazai’s smile is as thin as a piece of paper. “Cops might be experts in investigation, but not experts in torture. You can’t even make anyone tell you the time the clock on the wall says with that child’s fight-like torture. How about I tell you the right way to do it?”

Dazai says so as he picks up a piece of debris under his feet. It weights a few kilograms. One can pick it up without much trouble if they use both hands.

“What do you think I’m going to do with this?”

Dazai raises the debris. The cop stiffens. If that thing is swung down on his head, his skull will break. He wants to run away, but he can’t because both his arms and legs are locked.

Dazai stares coldly at his opponent for a moment, before his mouth finally twists into a sneer.

“Not this.” Dazai shakes his head.

“I am not going to hit you with this. I’m tired and my hands hurt. Pros do not use unnecessary force. The correct answer is this.”

Dazai puts the debris down. On top of the huge and flat piece on the cop’s arms. The cop frowns from the impact of the large mass.

“And that’s it. How is it? Are you disappointed? Torturing always starts with the softer stuff, you know. That way, it will give you more time to imagine. Because the greatest fear of a human being is the fear toward their own imagination.”

With that said, Dazai picks up another piece of debris and put it on the same plate.

“It is not a big deal with just one or two, right? But what if there are ten? What if there are twenty? Your arms are locked, while the weight is gradually added to the top. You are only feeling some pressure and pain now, but there will be a limit. Give it some time, and slowly, your bones will break, your hands will be crushed. I will just add it up little by little, so that you have a lot of time to imagine it.”

The blood slowly drains from the cop’s face. Complex thoughts are gone from his eyes. What’s left is only the most primitive and simple feelings.

“That!” Dazai pokes the guy’s forehead, entertained. “That is fear. The fear towards one’s own imagination. No-one can rob anyone of their imagination. Now, let us continue.”

One more piece is picked up and placed on top. The pressure starts from his elbows to the tips. Cold sweats slip down from the cop’s cheek.

It is clear to him what is about to happen. His arms will break. The bones bearing the weight of all the debris are mainly the forearm’s radius and ulna, the lunate, scaphoid and triquetral bones at the base of the hand. And the finger joints. You put a weight on these bones and they will start breaking in order, from the point where the force is most concentrated.

It is said that compared to the pain of a flesh wound, the pain from a broken bone is way more intense, unpleasant and unbearable to anybody.

Moreover, in a normal fracture, the bone will only break at one most pressured point. In this torture, however, once a bone has broken, the force will concentrate on a new point and have it broken anew. The fracture points will link to one another and ultimately, the bones will be shattered like they have been put through a wood crusher, and his arms will end up becoming a flat mattress mixed of flesh and blood.

And it will take a long, long time till he gets there.

“I beg you. Please stop it!”

The cop screams out, trying to escape. But it is hardly a meaningful movement. He barely lifts his hips. His hands are pinned down, his legs are locked by stakes. He can’t even change his position, let alone escape.

“Answer my question then.”

Dazai leans against the flat debris board, adding weight to it.

“Gyahhhh!!”

The cop’s arms start to crack under the newly added pressure from Dazai’s lounging.

“Tell me about the painting. I came here for that. It is so easy to destroy your organization. But I have to take care of that painting first. That is Phase one of the plan.”

“Phase one?”

The cop asks with a puzzled voice. He has no idea what his torturer is saying.

There is no-one who can understand it in this world yet.

“I know everything. About you, about your organization, about what happens next.” Dazai’s voice cracks as if he is subduing something inside. “I just want to know about the painting. Because Odasaku will die at this rate. I have to know the painting’s whereabout to change the future.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what you are talking about. I am just an underling here. I really don’t know anything.”

“Is that so?”

Another piece is loaded. The cop groans. Then, he gathers all the strength he has to pull his arms out. That’s the only way to survive.

His two arms tense up, his joints become pale and see-through. The cop holds his breath and exerts an unusual strength one normally can’t have. He manages to move his arm slightly outward.

But that is all he can do.

“It’s useless.” Dazai says with a voice that even exudes tenderness. “If you try with all you’ve got, you might be able to pull your arms out now. But you won’t. The concrete’s surface is rough. If you try too hard, your skin will come off somewhere. Plus, the further you pull, the smaller the contact surface will become and the more weight will be put on your skin. In other words, you will have to pull your arms all the way out, while feeing your skin being torn off and your exposed flesh being cut by the concrete. I wonder if you can continue the act of grinding your own body till the end?

Fear runs through the cop’s face. His arms loosen. With a ragged breath, he curves his body.

“See?” Dazai smiles. “Your will, your soul is screaming at you to pull your arms out. But your imagination gives birth to your fear, and that fear is stopping you from pulling them out. That’s why I told you. Our personality, our soul, is nothing but a convenient and unstable hypothesis based on primitive instincts such as pain and fear. Today, in this moment, your pain is your master and your king. So, you will speak. You will definitely speak.”

The cop’s body trembles in fear. This is the fear of pain, the fear of his imagination. But the most frightening of all is the young man in front of him, the king of the Pain land, the one who creates pains and controls pains.”

“You… who the hell are you? How can you do this?”

“I’m a pain expert.” Dazai puts his face closer to the cop’s as he says that, as if he is revealing a secret.

“That’s right. You want an excuse for yourself. Let me give you one then. I’m a Port Mafia’s executive.”

Upon hearing that, the cop bounces as if he is having a seizure. The color of regret surfaces to his eyes. The muscles from all over his body stiffen up. For a moment, he forgets everything about the debris on his arms, and the stakes on his feet.

“I get it. I will tell you. I will tell you everything. I didn’t know. I didn’t know that this is the kind of job that will piss off the Port Mafia!” The guy shakes his hair and screams. “I will pay whatever you want. I will sell out as many of my men as you want. So please help me. I beg you. Please save me!”

The cop has fallen, as easily as that. Dazai smiles thinly.

“How did you know about the painting?” Dazai asks.

“We heard from an art dealer.” The blood runs in the cop’s eyes, as he is trying his best to trace his memories. He finally realizes that every single word he says will decide his life and his dignity.

“That guy runs a small gallery on the Harbor Street, but he is also involved in forgery trades behind the scenes. People call him the Grey Merchant. That guy was arrested last month because he messed up. He sold a painting to a customer knowing it was a fake.”

“It looks like your throat has become a little smoother.” Dazai smiles, sitting down on a nearby piece of debris. “So?”

“Then the city police started looking through his other charges. They didn’t find any major crimes, but they suspected him of a pretty big incident. Fencing.

“Oh?” Dazai tilts his head. “Keep going.”

The cop speaks in a broken voice to endure the pain.

It was that dealer’s biggest job ever. He was secretly selling stolen goods from Europe. It was a big painting that has to be carried by two people, showing a farmer couple working diligently in a Medieval European landscape. It was painted by a member of a noble family in Europe in the 14th century, and was called the best work of its time.

That painting was stolen from an international art museum in France, by a group of skilled thieves. The culprits fled to Japan, where they contacted the art dealer to convert that painting into cash. The dealing of stolen goods – fencing - was familiar to that art dealer. However, the scale of the job that time was too large. It was a painting with a historical value. News of the theft had, of course, spread around the world, making it harder to find a buyer.

However, the dealer finally got that job done. The ultimate person who bought the painting was an extremely wealthy Japanese man. A man who made a fortune out of an aircraft importing business, a man who had a love for expensive arts. Or rather, he was in love with himself who owns expensive arts. That wealthy man hung the painting in the basement of his house. He had no intention of showing it to anyone. He was content with just showing it to himself.

That is why after he was arrested, the first thing the dealer thought about was the painting that he sold. The whereabout of that painting has become an international concern. If they found just a hint of it, the Europol would show up. If that happened, the severity of the investigation as well as the charges would be far greater than when the Yokohama City Police was in charge.

Therefore, the dealer came to criminal organization “48” to ask them to erase the evidences of the deal. That was one of the things “48” was good at. Through the help of their collaborators inside the police, they can steal evidences from the evidence storage room, or rewrite them with criminal records. The price varies depending on the severity of the crime to be erased, but “48”’s thorough understanding of the investigation process makes them very popular when it comes to this stuff, and they never run out of requests.

“48”’s movement was fast. They erased the travel records of the thieves and replaced the surveillance videos of the area near the warehouse used for fencing transactions. They had the knowledge they had gained through their career, and a thorough persistence on top of that. Even when they had switched from day to night, from law keepers to outlaws, no one could take that persistence away from them.

However, that was as far as they got. There were two problems.

The wealthy man who bought the painting had been killed.

And the painting had disappeared.

The man was killed in his own house. Together with his family. There was no lead to the killer. In fact, it was unknown how the killer broke in, how he killed him and by what kind of weapon.

The only thing known is that he was instantly killed by a shot in the head at close range. The rifling marks on the bullet didn’t match any records in file.

That was clearly done by a professional hitman.

And the painting was missing. So, there is only one possibility.

The killer knew the value of the painting and stole it.

“Impossible.” Dazai is stunned. “Are you saying that the hitman was Odasaku, and that he stole the painting?”

“How else could it be?” The cops says as he tries to suppress the pain. “The records show that when the murder scene was inspected, the painting had already been gone. Of course, he might have let go of it himself, right before he was killed, but if he wanted to transfer such a hard-to-sell painting like that, he would have used the same dealer for sure!”

Dazai stays completely still, his eyes looking at the middle of nowhere.

He rests himself on the debris without saying a word. Simply thinking in silence. His eyes are open without looking at anything, as if he has even forgot to breath.

“Got it.”

When Dazai finally opens his mouth after a long pause, that voice completely lacks emotions. No mockery, no cruelty, not even a carnivorous smile, nothing. A complete hollow.

Then he pulls out a gun.

He points the muzzle at the cop’s head.

“Wa.. wait! Why? I told you everything! I betrayed my organization and told you everything. There is nothing else, I swear!”

“You really don’t listen to others.” There is nothing left in Dazai’s voice, not even the ruthlessness. There is nothing in there. Not even a sign of someone holding a gun, nor talking to a human being.

“I told you. I won’t feel, nor care at all if the like of you dies. And there is one more thing I have not told you yet.”

Dazai bends his finger.

“I hate your organization.”

Gunshot.

…

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side B (2)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

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. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation 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.

...