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

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.

...

I love yaoshi sm

HELLO??

Here is a visual guide to get 3 hearts + a gift for nightbringer (diavolo, barbatos, solomon, simeon and luke under the cut) 

in the first game giving them a gift as the first move acted the same as a high five this is not true anymore 

giving them a gift as the first move the next two moves are the same as a “normal” non-high five round (I think)

I am unsure if these combos work with the guest on your home page

Here’s the one for the first game 

Keep reading

One of my favorite things about the game's writing of Alhaitham and Kaveh:

The basic game text goes out of its way to convince us that the house is Alhaitham's--it is literally called "Alhaitham's Home" even during Kaveh's hangout.

But in-universe, we never see Alhaitham in his house unless Kaveh is there.

Throughout Sumeru's archon quests, we run into Alhaitham practically everywhere: in Port Ormos, in Aaru Village, in the Akademiya, at the Grand Bazaar. But never, despite the fact that the story wants to sell him as a homebody, in his own home. In fact, the only references we have to Alhaitham's house at all throughout the entire lead up of the archon quests are mentions of Kaveh.

Alhaitham doesn't suggest going there, doesn't ever go home himself (at least that we're explicitly told about) until the end of the archon quests, and has no cutscenes in his own house until Kaveh returns from the desert.

Then, all the sudden, Alhaitham literally can't wait to go home and walks off in the middle of a conversation.

From that point on, every time we're permitted to enter Alhaitham's house, in story quests, the hangout, and the event, it's either when he and Kaveh are together or with Kaveh alone.

Even during Alhaitham's birthday skit of all things, they went out of their way to tell us that Alhaitham's home, so of course Kaveh is there:

The map tag tells us the building is Alhaitham's Home, but the story reinforces a different idea:

It's Alhaitham's home when Kaveh is in it.

AAA TYSM!! I FREAKIN LOVE CHIGIRI <33

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @masuminx

Your match is...

— Chigiri Hyoma

✦ "I'm a really insecure person about practically anything about me besides my hair."

✦ From that moment on, there was no one else in my mind but Chigiri.

✦ In fact, I think you two would get along really well for several reasons.

✦ On one hand, Chigiri has this very calm and observant nature that I see a bit in you, but he is also confident, determined, and very stubborn once he gets going. I think he would be very good at boosting your confidence in the areas where you struggle.

✦ Haircare routine together!!!

✦ I imagine you two meeting at school; you were probably in the same school. Even though you put in the effort for your grades, some scientific and mathematical subjects were challenging for you. Sports weren't easy either, and Chigiri would definitely have noticed that you had potential but lacked the right approach to fully utilize your skills on the field. For both theoretical and physical subjects, I see him being an excellent tutor who coaches you, gives advice, and knows how to spot flaws to help you improve.

✦ Eventually, he makes you want to play soccer with him.

✦ But he is so fast...

✦ A true red panther.

✦ Outside of sports, I imagine him enjoying reading, watching series, learning, and shopping for interesting clothes. He prefers to buy less but of good quality. I think he always has a wandering eye on shop windows in case something might interest you.

✦ The type to do small, discreet, but meaningful gestures.

✦ Like bringing you a drink when you're tired after sports or making sure you get your favorite snack after an intense hour of work.

✦ He would love to discover what you write. Maybe it would become his favorite reading, who knows...

✦ I find that Chigiri is someone who doesn't want to disappoint and has a hard time accepting his own shortcomings, especially his knee. I think with your observant nature, you would always keep an eye on his condition and would know how to soothe Chigiri when he starts overdoing it to the detriment of his leg. He needs someone who can step in and reassure him about his quality as a footballer.

✦ Chigiri is rather introverted too, so you two are in for cozy nights under the blanket watching comedy movies! I don't see him particularly liking horror movies, so you can both happily skip those.

✦ He knows very well that your sometimes fiery and arrogant words hide someone who lacks self-confidence, and that's why your outbursts never make him back down. On the contrary, it's in those precise moments that he knows he needs to be there for you.

✦ Little outings in the city to try the new café that opened: of course, he picks the trending cheesecake and shares it with you. He makes sure you get the bigger piece, watching you eat with a smile. He loves seeing you enjoy your food.

✦ Shared scarf during the cold season!

✦ The mention of "cat" immediately made me think of this drawing.

✦ You two are so the duo that feeds all the neighborhood cats; he must stop you from wanting to adopt them all...

✦ ...while secretly dreaming of it just as much.

✦ But having a red panther at home is already like having a big cat to take care of...

A word about your match: Could have been Aryu too (for the haircare routine lol) but I think Chigiri is much better at taking care of his significant other.

© JAE-PUDDING 2024 | FROM THE JULY '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

ENSTARS ROAD TO SHOW + SUBS [DOWNLOAD]

Link below the cut + read the rules, please!

Without further ado, I present you the Enstars Road to Show Movie , subbed by yours truly!

Reminders!

You are allowed to share, as long as you credit me (link my profile, please!)

Do not own it as your work! I've spent countless of days working on the raw, fixing the video file and formatting the translation!

If you encounter any error in the translations, I apologize. Japanese is not my native language and I only have bit of Japanese worked on.

You can download VLC to watch on it!

With all that being said, have fun!

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