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Chapter 1 - Dreams and Nightmares
“Odasaku!!!”
The blood on his hands was thick and warm…
A whispered piece of advice, a dying wish…
He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He was in disbelief, staring at the dying man in his arms.
Then the floor beneath him began to sway. His vision blurred and everything faded to black…
***
Dazai Osamu bolted upright, a cold sweat clinging to his temples.
For a moment, he could only stare into the darkness. He clutched his heart as it hammered against his ribs.
Then he shoved back the blankets and tugged at the sleeves of his pajamas, exposing bare skin. He took his phone and shone the light on his wrists.
No bandages there...
He turned his arms over, inspecting them under the dim light of his phone, the latest and most expensive model.
Nothing.
Why did he have bandages in that dream?
His fingers immediately went to his neck. He traced the length of it, searching for fabric, scars, anything. There was nothing there either.
Acting on instinct more than reason, he fumbled with the buttons of his pajama top and pulled it open.
He shone the light over his chest and stomach.
There were no gunshot wounds, nor knife marks. No long, vicious mark carved across his chest by a scythe either.
He pressed a hand against his sternum anyway, as though expecting to feel the old injuries beneath the skin.
The relief should have been immediate, but it left him feeling strangely hollow.
The pain, the scars, the bandages — none of them had ever existed. They belonged to someone else. Perhaps it was a version of himself that only lived inside his nightmares.
Then how come the memory of them felt so vivid that he could almost swear his body still remembered the wounds?
He kept touching his wrists until he felt satisfied. His skin was flawless. Of course, that wasn’t surprising considering his elite upbringing.
As one of the youngest sons of a political family also known as “the other royal family” because of their influence in different branches of the government, of course he’d have the kind of smooth, supple skin that was common to nobility and people who had never known a day of hard labor in their lives.
But the bandages weren’t the strangest part of Dazai’s dream. It was the fact that he had some sort of power. And in that world, most of his friends and colleagues had different superpowers too.
Weird…
If there were humans who had superpowers in Japan, he’d have known about it. Thankfully, no such thing existed. He shuddered, imagining wars being fought with god-like beings. Bombs and guns were bad enough.
He checked his bedside alarm clock — 3 a.m.
He had to be in the publishing office in a few hours. He popped a sleeping pill before plopping back down on the bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
***
“There he is — my current favorite author!”
Dazai was barely through the door of the Armed Detective Publishing House located in Yokohama, but his editor, Kunikida Doppo, was already patting his back and congratulating him.
The company, managed by former scholar and linguist Fukuzawa Yukichi, was one of the best in the country. They managed to produce bestseller after bestseller.
“Kunikida-kun, if you keep patting my back like that, I’m going to have back pains!”
The stern and ever-serious editor suddenly squealed and apologized for his crude behavior. It was quite rare for Kunikida to show his affection as well but Dazai’s latest book, No Longer Human, spent another week at the top of the national bestseller’s list.
Someone nearby heard the commotion and approached them. It was none other than Edogawa Ranpo, the publishing house’s first signed author, known for his mystery novels.
“Are you gushing over Dazai ‘cause he topped my sales last month?”
Kunikida bowed to Ranpo, who was well respected by everyone in the publishing house. Rumor has it that President Fukuzawa established the company for the sole purpose of honing Ranpo’s talent.
Behind Ranpo was one of their secretaries called Haruno Kirako. And beside her was their new intern, Izumi Kyouka, carrying umbrellas. It appeared as though they were on their way out. The girl bowed and did their usual greetings, which Dazai and Kunikida returned.
“You’re on your way to another book signing?” Dazai asked the mystery writer.
“Obviously,” Ranpo replied, smiling. “Well, we’re off!”
Before the older writer and his assistants left, he turned to Dazai one last time.
“I’ll only say this once, but job well done on your latest novel… That book No Longer Human is something…” Ranpo turned on his heels again and turned the doorknob. “But of course, it still has a lot of catching up to do with my collection of mysteries, Ultra Deduction!”
“Of course, Ranpo! I’m just a novice writer, after all. I’m originally a translator too. I have a lot to learn,” Dazai said, bowing to his older colleague as the group exited the office.
Kunikida bowed once again. “And we’ll be in your care,” the editor added.
The editor then led Dazai to one of their conference rooms and this was when Kunikida noticed something different about Dazai’s attire.
“That’s a different style from what you usually wear,” he noted. “What’s up with the bolo tie?”
The writer scratched his chin as he looked up. “Not sure… I feel like I saw this look in a magazine somewhere.”
He was lying, of course. About a week ago, he saw himself wearing it in a dream and the next day, he found the exact bolo tie and overcoat in an antique and used items store. They were part of a collection that seemed to have belonged to someone who recently passed away. Dazai usually wouldn’t go to such shops, but that day, he was doing research for another book he was thinking of writing.
When they entered the conference room, Nakajima Atsushi, was setting down tea beside pens and notepads.
“Tsushi — ah, Dazai-san! You’re here a bit early!”
Atsushi was someone Dazai knew from the time he was using the name Tsushima Shuji, his real name. The boy met Dazai as he was volunteering in an orphanage that his family donated money to.
The writer only started using Dazai Osamu when he started working in the publishing house. It was his way to hide his family name too, since they weren’t so keen on him working there in the first place. His family name was a brand he couldn’t use just anywhere. Everyone in the office knew this story and according to standard practice, all of his colleagues were to call him by Dazai, which he didn’t mind at all. He felt like it suited him better.
Dazai and Kunikida sat across each other and the writer took a sip of the tea.
“Aaaah! That hits the spot!” He stretched his arms towards the ceiling. “And to answer your question, Atsushi-kun, I’m a bit early because unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Do you want Yosano-sensei to prescribe you some pills?” Kunikida asked. “She’s dropping by later today, so we could discuss her latest medical book.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine! Relax, Kunikida-kun!”
The editor frowned and pushed his glasses back. “Dazai, I know you follow all deadlines, but I can’t have you getting sick over nothing! It’s part of my job as your editor to look after your health. Did you know how many writers and mangakas get hospitalized for — ”
“I know, I know!” Dazai sighed before taking another sip of tea. “You’ve told me loads of times!”
Before Kunikida could nag him once again, the door to the conference room opened.
A bright and cheery boy entered. He held a crate full of letters and gifts, which seemed to be scented. Flowery and sweet smells filled the room.
“Dazai-san! Here’s your weekly batch of fan mail!”
It was Miyazawa Kenji, one of the company interns. Originally from the countryside, he was spending his summer in Yokohama with friends of his family.
“Strong as ever, Kenji-kun! Hey, should we really be making our summer interns do manual labor?” Dazai shot a judgmental look at Kunikida.
Kenji set the crate down on the table with a large thud, blocking Kunikida’s view of Dazai’s mocking stare.
The intern raised an arm and patted his muscles. “It’s okay, Dazai-san! I’m used to carrying heavy loads like sacks of rice! It’s making me miss the work on the farm but I’m here all summer so this is the least I could do!”
Dazai smiled and thanked their younger colleague, who bowed out of the room.
Kunikida moved the crate aside so he could see Dazai clearly again.
“Don’t worry, we checked for bombs and weird stuff this time,” Kunikida said, shivering.
“Kunikida-san found used underwear this time,” Atsushi explained. The boy looked equally spooked as if remembering that specific memory.
The editor’s face flushed crimson at the mention of it.
Dazai did his best to hold back his laughter as he imagined Kunikida screaming and panicking upon discovering women’s underwear among his fan mail.
“We’ll put another announcement on our website and social media about the guidelines on sending over fan mail,” Kunikida said, adjusting his glasses. “Make sure to take note of that, Atsushi-kun. We’ll have Tanizaki-kun update all our channels.”
Atsushi nodded and began scribbling furiously in his notebook. When he was done, he looked up at Dazai, who reached into the crate.
The writer fished out one of the scented letters, written by a young woman. He smiled as he read words of praise and admiration.
“Most of the feedback was really good, Dazai-san,” Atsushi said. “As expected, No Longer Human appealed to a wide audience and most of them even said it helped them deal with their own emotional issues.”
“The press is eating it up too. You have another invite to a talk show for next month,” Kunikida said.
Dazai kept smiling as he opened another letter. “Whoa! Another talk show, huh? Are we now running a celebrity agency or what!”
“Well, it’s more like an agency of sorts, isn’t it?” Atsushi faked a laugh. “Ranpo is also being consulted by the police to help them solve real crimes.”
“That helps with the publicity of his books, so I understand why we have to do this extra work,” Dazai said, nodding.
Kunikida adjusted his glasses again. “Speaking of work, we’re here to discuss your next book.”
The writer groaned, avoiding Kunikida’s eyes. “I’m honestly still so blocked. Can’t I go back to translating French novels?”
Kunikida grimaced but he wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Before Dazai’s hit novel, he had been a translator for the publishing house. He had a French degree from the prestigious Tokyo Imperial University, after all. He had also traveled extensively across Europe and had a good eye for foreign books that the Japanese population loved.
This was Dazai’s job before he finally submitted his own manuscript.
Though Dazai had a talent for translating, Kunikida wanted to push his writer to hone his craft. It would be a waste if Dazai went back to translating other writers’ works when he could be working on his own.
“How about a follow-up to No Longer Human?” Kunikida suggested. “You said something about that character Yozo being in a rehabilitation center. Flowers of something… You had a title for it.”
“Flowers of Buffonery,” Atsushi offered from across the table as his fingers flicked through his notes. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Dazai picked up a pen from the table and balanced it in his upper lip. “Ah, that… Yeah… I do have a draft, but I don’t think it’s ready yet. I really am blocked and my sleep is poor…”
“The bags under your eyes are not a good sign,” Kunikida said with a concerned tone.
The pen fell to the table. The sound irritated Dazai, but it could just be the lack of sleep amping his agitation.
“I just need a break…”
Kunikida nodded. “Do you want to cancel some of the book signings and interviews?”
Dazai shook his head and picked up another fan mail. “No… We can’t let the fans down… But if there’s a way to stop weird nightmares about having superpowers and being part of a criminal gang, then I would take that medicine, please!”
Atsushi looked startled. Kunikida stood up. “I’ll call Yosano-sensei after all,” he said before leaving the room.
When Kunikida left, Atsushi leaned forward and said in a lower voice, “Dazai-san, did you say dreams about supernatural powers?”
“Oh yeah, I haven’t told you yet. I’ve always had these weird dreams since I was a kid. It’s just getting more frequent lately. It’s almost like living a double life, but it’s only in dreams… Or nightmares…”
“W-what sort of powers?”
“I dunno. In some of the dreams, you guys were in there too, but it’s never the same. Almost like different versions of me in different universes, but some things are the same like my powers or some of the people I meet but I don’t really remember specifics of it. There are scenes that keep replaying, though — ”
“I… I think I have them sometimes too…”
Dazai’s eyes widened. Glancing over at Atsushi, he could tell the boy was bothered. He was slightly trembling and he had to hold his hands together to stop them from shaking. He felt guilty for making Atsushi feel this way.
“I’m sorry for telling you about — ”
“In some of them, I turn into a tiger,” Atsushi cut him off. “And I get chopped up and stuff…”
A chill ran through Dazai’s body. There was something very familiar with what Atsushi was describing.
“Oh! I’m sorry! It’s only happened once or twice but I guess everyone has that sort of dream!” Atsushi waved his arms around as if to dispel his own point. “I think this means we have to watch less fantasy anime before we go to bed!”
Before Dazai could offer a reply or a follow-up question, Kunikida burst into the room, happily saying Yosano was on her way to the office. Whatever Kunikida said, the doctor was convinced enough to give Dazai a prescription to refill his sleeping pills.
The three of them talked more about Dazai’s next novel and the talk show appearance before they were interrupted by another student intern called Naomi, who informed them that Yosano Akiko has arrived.
***
Dazai never really understood why the publishing house had a full clinic with an operation room. It also served as the office of Yosano, one of their writers of medical textbooks, who was also consulted by entertainment agencies whenever they produced medical dramas.
Yosano was also someone Ranpo consulted regarding human biology — an important aspect of his murder stories.
After a quick checkup, Yosano wrote a prescription for sleeping pills. He handed the note to Dazai who thanked her.
“This will only help you sleep but it won’t guarantee a dreamless sleep. If you have other issues, you need another type of doctor,” she said with the same tone of concern Kunikida exhibited.
Dazai pocketed the prescription. “Kunikida-kun told you, huh?”
“He didn’t tell me.” She crouched down and fished something out of her bag — the pink and black cover was unmistakable. “All I had to do was read your book.”
“Oh…”
“So, how much of this is true?”
“It’s all fiction, aside from the experiences of growing up in a big family and all the privilege and all that. Obviously, I’m not married yet and I’ve finished my degree too.”
She flipped through it and Dazai could see passages that were highlighted and corners that were earmarked. “I know that and your personality is different as well. You’ve always been so well-mannered and well-behaved but… It’s all so… raw… and real…”
Dazai leveled a finger-gun at the doctor and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “That’s what makes me a good writer, don’t you think?”
Yosano narrowed her eyes at her younger colleague as she put the book down on the table. “I guess so…”
The younger writer smiled. “Think about it. Ranpo writes all those murder mysteries but he hasn’t actually murdered anyone, right? I suppose he’s been around real detectives because of his parents and his current work with the police, but his stories are still a product of his imagination! And as far as I know, he has never committed a crime… But his American friend Poe, well now that one… I’m not too sure!”
Yosano had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“He looks like the type who’d have a body beneath his floorboards, right?” Dazai joked.
The doctor finally laughed and Dazai smiled.
“I suppose I’m just saying this because when the company consults me for the medical aspects of the stories or when I’m writing the medical textbooks, it is based on real experiences. Sorry for even asking.”
Dazai shook his head. “Oh no, not at all! It’s all part of the perks of working at the Armed Detective Agency, huh? Getting to meet the famous authors and interviewing them for free!”
Yosano’s demeanor suddenly changed. It was as if she was struck with a dark thought. “Did you say ‘agency’ instead of publishing house? The Armed Detective Agency?”
There was another strange familiarity to the phrase, Dazai had to admit to himself. And Yosano’s reaction reminded him of Atsushi’s earlier. Was it just a coincidence? Or…
Dazai dismissed the strange thoughts. It was normal to have dreams about people you knew in real life. Scientifically, it was the brain’s way of processing information it was getting throughout the day.
“I was joking a while ago to Kunikida-kun that Ranpo and I were being invited to talk shows and consultations that we might as well be a talent agency,” Dazai explained.
“Armed Detective Agency,” Yosano repeated. “It’s quite catchy. Has a ring to it… I might tell the President about the name in case he wants to expand the business.”
Dazai stood up, still smirking, and put his beige overcoat back on. “Well, I have to get to another meeting now, so I’m afraid if you want more info on the book, you have to watch my TV interview!”
***
Dazai could feel the cold wind on his face. He was on top of a very tall building.
He was mumbling something…
He couldn’t even see who he was talking to… But there were people up there on the roof with him…
Something about a book and the universe…
The next thing Dazai felt was the wind behind him and the quick pull of gravity on his back.
He was falling…
Did he just jump off the roof?
He was falling fast…
He could see himself on the reflective side of the building where he jumped off. A bandage around his left eye. An all-black suit. A heavy coat. A crimson scarf around his neck, pulling him downwards, downwards…
Dazai knew he should be scared and that he should be panicking, screaming, bracing for the impact that would end his life. But he had never felt so light and peaceful in his life…
He woke up just before he hit the ground.
***
It was one of those talk shows that aired live and late at night, attracting mostly an older demographic. However, that night, the studio was expecting to double their ratings as they tried to appeal to a younger audience with the new guest.
Before airing, a young, eager reporter introduced herself to Dazai. She mentioned that before hosting the talk show, she was a reporter covering local crimes and that she had the pleasure of interviewing Ranpo.
“He’s in the same publishing house as you, right?”
“Was it really a pleasure interviewing him?” Dazai teased.
She merely smiled and thankfully, the director told them to stand by as they would start filming very shortly. Both the reporter and Dazai sat on a plush, crimson sofa. The studio set was made to look like someone’s living room.
The interview began like most of his other interviews did — an introduction about Dazai and his family. It was no secret that Dazai was his pen name and that he actually hailed from two very powerful families — the Tsushimas and the Matsukis. The Tsushimas were an influential political clan, while the Matsukis owned a big trading corporation based in Yokohama.
The show flashed photos of the facade of the Tsushima estate in Aomori, as well as the tall buildings in Yokohama owned by the Matsuskis.
“So both sides of your family must be proud of your achievements,” the reporter said, her intonation implying it was a fact and not a question he should answer.
His answer should have been yes. He should have moved on to another topic. But he had been having the dreams again and perhaps this affected his state of mind and emotions.
“Well, to be honest, they weren’t too happy when I took up French at Tokyo Imperial University. I suppose the Matsuki side was hoping I take up something business-related because I’m grandpa’s favorite and there were even talks of me running that side of the business. I even did an internship there at one point,” he started. “As for the Tsushimas, I managed to convince them that having a foreign language major is a good pathway to being a diplomat, so it came as a shock for them when I expressed my interest in working for a humble publishing house!”
“Oh… That’s… Yes, it might have been quite a shock,” the reporter said, also surprised that Dazai went off the script.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Kunikida standing beside the director, behind the caera crew. Even from where Dazai sat, he could see that his editor’s jaw was positively on the floor.
“They were shocked, but they’re very proud now,” Dazai replied, going back to the script.
The young reporter nodded and smiled. She had a notepad with her and she turned to the next page.
“Well, another point we want to clarify is how close your experiences are to the protagonist of your new bestseller, No Longer Human. Obviously, you’re well and healthy and alive. And perhaps some of the readers feel betrayed that you’re not the messed-up character in the novel since a lot of these people could sympathize with him.”
Dazai gave a thoughtful nod to show he understood this sentiment.
“Perhaps the exact details are not the same, but the thoughts and feelings conveyed there come from the heart. It’s all still me,” he said, which was another rehearsed answer, approved by both the publishing house and his families.
It was a safe enough answer that wouldn’t alienate his readers but also give enough cover about the details of his personal life.
“I may come from a privileged background but feelings of loneliness and anxiety are common human experiences, right?” He touched his chest to show his sincerity.
“Well, speaking about the heart, one of the themes of the novel is love and all the ladies who got involved with the protagonist.” The reporter giggled, covering her mouth with the notepad. “So, Dazai-san, in that aspect, are all those experiences based on your own relationships too?”
Dazai scratched the back of his head. “You caught me there. I’ve been in turbulent relationships before. But I’m sure we’ve all gone through those passionate relationships, especially when we were younger.”
One of the producers signaled something to the reporter, who nodded back. “We actually have an interview clip from someone who claims to have known you in middle school and high school. He wishes to remain anonymous. Let’s take a look.”
On cue, a white screen lowered from the ceiling, located just behind Dazai and the reporter.
A video started playing onscreen. It was the silhouette of a man whose voice was also altered. For some reason, the man was wearing a hat.
“Oh yeah, I’ve known that writer! He’s been arrogant since forever, I’m tellin’ ya! And sure I read his book and that main character Bozo or whatever ain’t even a fraction of a womanizer that person is! Ask him if he’s still stealin’ women from his friends and makin’ them cry too!”
The video cut there and the scene faded to black.
“So, that’s a testimony from a Mr. C,” the reporter checked her cue card. “What’s your response to that, Dazai-san?”
Dazai grimaced, trying his hardest to control his temper. “I think I know who it is. You found the one person who has a grudge against me. An ex-friend who — ”
Kunikida made big gestures from behind the camera that were impossible to ignore. He crossed his arms, which seemed to signify that Dazai should deny the accusations or change the topic entirely.
“Well, he’s just a former classmate who was probably jealous that one of the girls who liked me then was someone he also liked. It’s a normal occurrence among teenagers, isn’t it?” He smiled to lighten the situation.
“So is it true that you stole — ”
“Maybe if that classmate drank more milk and complained less about his height, girls would have paid attention to him too.”
The reporter looked baffled at the additional comment but smiled back at Dazai.
“Well, let’s move on to other messages,” the reporter said. “And they’re more pleasant this time, I promise.”
A face appeared onscreen. It was someone that Dazai recognized — a former schoolmate who kept following him around. This time, the man was dressed in black, semi-formal clothes.
“I am Akutagawa Ryunosuke and I am a big fan of Dazai-san. He is the best. He had always been talented and I bought all copies of his work in all the different languages.”
The camera zoomed out to Akutagawa’s room, which contained a bookshelf filled with various copies of No Longer Human.
“You see, I too, want to follow in Dazai-san’s footsteps. I will become a writer like him and I tried applying at the same publishing house but an incompetent employee called Nakajima Atsushi did the first round of screening for my interview and failed me without basis, saying —”
The reporter coughed and the video paused.
“I think that part was supposed to be edited out. Sorry, folks! This is just what happens when you do live TV!”
The video then faded to black, thanks to the quick thinking of the operator working behind the scenes.
“I’m not sure if there was a question there,” Dazai looked around, also confused.
“Do accept our apologies for the mention of your company, Dazai-san.”
“Oh, it’s okay. We do have a strict application process,” Dazai noted. “There’s a sort of entrance exam that not everyone can pass. Even our part-timers and student interns have to take it.”
Dazai made a zipping gesture on his mouth. “And I’m afraid that’s all I can say about it.”
“This exam is making me so curious, but we do have a few more messages to go through! Here’s the next message.”
Another video was projected onscreen. This time, the background looked like an office inside a hospital.
“My name is Rintarou and I used to work with Dazai-kun,” he started. “I was also a physician for the Matsuskis, including Dazai’s grandfather, but now I run the medical side of the business for the family.”
He raised a copy of the novel. “I’ve known Dazai-kun since he was fourteen and I’m really proud that he’s grown up to be an exceptional man! Before, he just used to do errands for me but he’s become so capable. I am delighted that he wrote this and that it became a global phenomenon. To be frank, I’ve always thought of Dazai-kun as my own kid and he reminds me a bit of myself, when I was younger. Well, if he wants to work for the M Corporation again, he just needs to say so!”
The screen faded to black once again and the reporter turned to Dazai. “So, that’s your former boss?”
“Yes,” was all that Dazai could say. He never really understood why Mori irked him.
Perhaps he always thought that he was trying to get into his grandfather’s ear.
“And what kind of work did you do for M Corporation back then? Just to remind our viewers, this is the company owned by the Matsukis, Dazai’s paternal side of the family. His father Gen’emon took the Tsushima name because he wanted to get into politics, but we all know that story!”
Dazai smiled and nodded at this trivia about his family. He had to look like he hadn’t heard it for the hundredth time that month.
“It was a student internship role,” Dazai explained. “I would help out here and there after school. It was okay for a while, but I realized it was not what I wanted to do in life. Oh, and that annoying person at the beginning was a part-timer there too.”
Of course, Dazai was simplifying this. He was more than just a student intern. When he was in middle school, he ran away from the Tsushima household. He couldn’t even remember why. It was right after some event he attended with the family at the palace.
Dazai ran away to Yokohama to be with the Matsuki side of the family. He had always been close to his grandfather, who managed the business. However, at that time, the company was experiencing financial losses. The boy who knew nothing about trading and finances studied as best he could so he could offer advice to his grandfather. Some of his ideas were also laced with things he learned from the Tsushima household. After all, he was being trained to be another politician the family could use.
Somehow, Dazai’s suggestions had worked and he was instrumental in reviving the M Corporation.
“Thanks for the kind message, Mori-san,” Dazai remarked. “But I’m quite happy at the publishing house right now. Do send my regards to grandpa and I hope you show him a copy of this video!”
He waved to the camera. “Hi grandpa! I hope you’re seeing this! But if you’re watching this live, why are you still up? Please go to bed!”
The reporter giggled at the affectionate show of familial love, then she said that they would be hearing more messages, this time from female fans.
The other messages were questions by readers, mostly women who were curious about him as a person and not the book.
The very last question was a young woman asking if he was single.
“I guess I should be thankful that you filtered out all the questions asking me if I want to do a you-know-what with them,” Dazai joked. He was warned that he couldn’t say ‘double suicide’ in live television.
It was true that Dazai received offers of doing double suicide from women all around the globe. This was one of the things Kunikida has to filter out every time Dazai would receive fan mails.
“So, what is it? Single? Dating? Engaged? You’re very private about your personal life, Dazai-san,” the reporter remarked.
“Well, as you mentioned, my family needs a say on who I date. While I did fool around when I was younger, I’m getting older now and I also desire something more serious,” he said.
“And we’ll end our show with that! Thank you once again for joining us, Dazai Osamu-san! And if you haven’t yet, don’t forget to buy a copy of the book that’s taking the world by storm, No Longer Human! Good night, folks!”
In the car after the interview, Kunikida was on the phone with the show’s producer. He was reprimanding the producer about the unedited video messages and the focus on Dazai’s personal life.
“I thought we agreed that we should focus on the book, not the writer! It’s even okay to talk about mental health, because it’s for a good cause,” Kunikida argued.
The producer wasn’t on speaker, but the volume of the call was too loud that Dazai and Tanizaki Junichiro, a part-timer who offered to drive them, could hear the conversation.
“But Dazai-san is so handsome and a big reason why the book is selling well is because of him!”
Junichiro worked on the digital side of the business. He updates the websites, social media pages, as well as dealing with digital fan mails. Sometimes, he also dealt with hackers and it was a field he wanted to get better at.
Kunikida exchanged a few more words with the producer before hanging up. Then the editor sighed and slumped into his seat.
“Thanks for offering to drive, Tanizaki,” Kunikida said.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to watch a live broadcast! Well, I was only allowed in the control room and not the set, but I think that went well, actually,” Tanizaki said. “I was looking at the stats of our pages during the broadcast and our followers and mentions increased again — for search terms about No Longer Human, about Dazai-san, and the company!”
Dazai elbowed Kunikida, sitting beside him. “All’s well that ends well, right, Kunikida-kun?”
“You went off script for a while there and I’m going to get an earful from your older brother for sure!”
Kunikida meant Bunji, Dazai’s oldest brother who was also a Diet member, one of the youngest in Japan.
“And the show went overtime too, so we have to file that as overtime for Tanizaki as well,” Kunikida said. “It’s way beyond a part-timer’s scope of hours!
“No worries at all!” Tanizaki said. “I’m okay! Tomorrow’s the weekend too!”
“Let’s get back to the office before — ”
Dazai grinned at his editor and pressed his hands together in prayer. “Actually, Kunikida-kun, can you drop me off somewhere else?”
***
After repeated pleas and justification on why he should be left alone for the rest of the night, Kunikida gave up and allowed Dazai a night by himself in public.
Though Kunikida had been paranoid since an obsessed fan sent them a fake bomb, Dazai reasoned that the bar he had in mind was hidden and not too popular. The chances were slim that some of his fans were hanging out there. The clientele was also mostly older men.
It was located in a side street and the red and white sign paved his way. After that, he descended a familiar set of wooden stairs that creaked under his weight.
A table by the foot of the stairs was occupied by a group of old men in all-black suits. In the bar, there was a lone man. He was dressed in such an unremarkable suit that Dazai immediately deduced that he was a government employee. The round spectacles felt very familiar, though.
Surprisingly, he stared at Dazai just the same as if trying to place where they met before.
As Dazai sat one stool away from the man, he acknowledged the man’s attention to ease the tension. “I just have one of those common faces,” he said.
He wasn’t in the mood to brag about his string of recent TV appearances. It was most likely that the man had seen him there anyway.
The man bowed and went back to his glass of whiskey.
“Is it your first time here?” Dazai asked the man before giving his order to the bartender.
The man stared at him again and contemplated if he should answer the question. Dazai’s arrived faster than the man’s answer.
“Yes,” the bespectacled man finally said. “A friend of mine used to go here quite often a few years ago… It’s only now that I’ve had a chance to visit.”
Dazai took a sip of his whiskey. “Busy with your work as a government employee?”
The man’s eyes widened. “How did you know? Are you a detective?”
Dazai laughed and dismissed the guess with a wave. “No, I’m the farthest thing to law enforcement! You just give off a vibe, that’s all.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
“Think of it as a testament to how hard you work.”
“I don’t really see that shows on me, but — ”
Dazai shrugged. A part of him wanted to show off and point out details in Ango’s outfit that led to his deduction — his watch, his briefcase, his shoes. He met too many government officials when he was younger to be able to distinguish them.
But that night, Dazai just wanted to drink and forget. “It’s just a vibe, that’s all,” Dazai repeated.
“So, do you go here often?” Dazai asked, changing the subject.
“It’s actually my first time here. I’m glad I finally came,” the man said. “It’s my friend’s death anniversary, you see. It’s been four years. This was his favorite bar.”
Something about this poked at Dazai’s heart. Hearing about this man’s friend somehow broke his heart. It was a strange reaction, but he immediately thought about the man who kept appearing in his dreams. Perhaps that man was one of his friends in that dream universe…
“You probably regret not coming here and drinking with him, huh?” Dazai asked.
The man could only sigh and down the rest of his drink.
“How about you?” The man asked. “Have you been coming here a lot?”
“Just recently,” Dazai said before taking another sip. “I saw this place in a dream, believe it or not.”
The man nodded and ordered another drink. “I’ve had strange dreams too.”
Dazai sighed. “Probably not as strange as mine.. Lately, I’ve been dreaming a lot about these really tragic scenes and in one of them, a friend dies. Sorry, I was just reminded of it since you mentioned your friend too. But the thing is, I don’t even recognize this man in my dream. Isn’t that strange?”
The mysterious government employee finally received his new drink and swirled its contents around in his hand. “Not stranger than fulfilling a promise only four years later to a friend who’s no longer around.”
Even from one seat away, Dazai could see the pained expression on this man’s face. It was the look of a thousand unexpressed emotions and broken promises.
The writer stood up from his stool and sat beside the man. He put an arm around him and somehow, it felt right.
The man looked shocked but he didn’t protest about Dazai’s arm around him. Anyone seeing them could easily mistake them as close friends.
Dazai smirked as he pulled the man closer. “Tell you what — we’ll drink to this friend of yours.”
With his other hand, Dazai summoned the bartender for another round of their drinks, including an extra one, reserved for the government employee’s friend.
When it arrived, Dazai asked the man, “Well, stranger, who shall we toast to?”
The man picked up his drink. “My name is Sakaguchi Ango and my friend’s name is Oda. Oda Sakunosuke… But we used to call him Odasaku.”
NEXT CHAPTER: FRIENDS, LOVERS, ENEMIES